THE WOOING OF BORIS AND JORIAN
"Jorian," said Boris, adjusting his soft underjerkin before putting on
his body armour, "thou art the greatest fool in the world!"
"Hold hard, Boris," answered Jorian. "Honour to whom honour--thou art
greater by at least a foot than I!"
"Well," said the long man, "let us not quarrel about the breadth of a
finger-nail. At any rate, we two are the greatest fools in the world."
"There are others," said Jorian, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in
the direction of the women's apartments.
"None so rounded and tun-bellied with folly!" cried Boris, with
decision. "No two donkeys so thistle-fed as we--to have the command of
five hundred good horsemen, and the chances of as warm a fight as ever
closed----"
"That is just it," cried Jorian; "our Hugo had no business to forbid us
to engage in the open before he should come."
"'Hold the city.' quoth he, shaking that great head of his. 'I know not
the sort of general this priest-knight may be, and till I know I will
not have my Palace Guard flung like a can of dirty water in the face of
the Muscovites. Therefore counsel the Prince to stand on the defensive
till I come.'"
"And rightly spoke the son of the Red Axe," assented Boris; "only our
good Hugo should have sent other men than you and me to command in such
a campaign. We never could let well alone all the days of us."
"Save in the matter of marriage or no marriage!" smiled Boris grimly.
"A plague on all women!" growled the little fat man, his rubicund and
shining face lined with unaccustomed discontent. "A plague on all women,
I say! What can this Theresa von Lynar want in the Muscovite camp, that
we must promise to convey her safe through the fortifications, and then
put her into Prince Wasp's hands?"
"Think you that for some hatred of our Joan--you remember that night at
Isle Rugen--or some purpose of her own (she loves not the Princess
Margaret either), this Theresa would betray the city to the enemy?"
"Tush!" Jorian had lost his temper and answered crossly. "In that case,
would she have called us in? It were easy enough to find some traitor
among these Courtlanders, who, to obtain the favour of Prince Louis,
would help to bring the Muscovite in. But what, if she were thrice a
traitress, would cause her to fix on the two men who of all others would
never turn knave and spoil-sport--no, not for a hundred vats of Rhenish
bottled by Noah the year after the Flood!"
"Well," sighed his companion, "'tis well enough said, my excellent
Jorian, but all this does not advance us an inch. We have promised, and
at eleven o' the clock we must go. What hinders, though, that we have a
bottle of Rhenish now, even though the vintage be younger than you say?
Perhaps, however, the patron was more respectable!"
* * * * *
Thus in the hall of the men-at-arms in the Castle of Courtland spoke the
two captains of Plassenburg. All this time they were busy with their
attiring, Boris in especial making great play with a tortoiseshell comb
among his tangled locks. Somewhat more spruce was the arraying of our
twin comrades-in-arms than we have seen it. Perhaps it was the thought
of the dangerous escort duty upon which they had promised to venture
forth that night; perhaps----
"May we come in?" cried an arch voice from the doorway. "Ah, we have
caught you! There--we knew it! So said I to my sister not an hour agone.
Women may be vain as peacocks, but for prinking, dandifying vanity,
commend me to a pair of foreign war-captains. My lords, have you blacked
your eyelashes yet, touched up your eyebrows, scented and waxed those
_beautiful_ moustaches? Sister, can you look and live?"
And to the two soldiers, standing stiff as at attention, with their
combs in their hands, enter the sisters Anna and Martha Pappenheim, more
full of mischief than ever, and entirely unsubdued by the presence of
the invader at their gates.
"Russ or Turk, Courtlander or Franconian, Jew, proselyte, or dweller in
Mesopotamia, all is one to us. So be they are men, we will engage to tie
them about our little fingers!"
"Why," cried Martha, "whence this grand toilet? We knew not that you had
friends in the city. And yet they tell me you have been in Courtland
before, Sir Boris?"
"Marthe," cried Anna Pappenheim, with vast pretence of indignation,
"what has gotten into you, girl? Can you have forgotten that martial
carriage, those limbs incomparably knit, that readiness of retort and
delicate sparkle of Wendish wit, which set all the table in a roar, and
yet never once brought the blush to maiden's cheek? For shame, Marthe!"
"Ha! ha!" laughed Jorian suddenly, short and sharp, as if a string had
been pulled somewhere.
"Ho! ho!" thus more sonorously Boris.
Anna Pappenheim caught her skirts in her hand and spun round on her heel
on pretence of looking behind her.
"Sister, what was that?" she cried, spying beneath the settles and up
the wide throat of the chimney. "Methought a dog barked."
"Or a grey goose cackled!"
"Or a donkey sang!"
"Ladies," said Jorian, who, being vastly discomposed, must perforce try
to speak with an affectation of being at his ease, "you are pleased to
be witty."
"Heaven mend our wit or your judgment!"
"And we are right glad to be your butts. Yet have we been accounted
fellows of some humour in our own country and among men----"
"Why, then, did you not stay there?" inquired Martha pointedly.
"It was not Boris and I who could not stay without," retorted Jorian,
somewhat nettled, nodding towards the door of the guard-room.
"Well said!" cried frank Anna. "He had you there, Marthe. Pricked in the
white! Faith, Sir Jorian pinked us both, for indeed it was we who
intruded into these gentlemen's dressing-room. Our excuse is that we are
tirewomen, and would fain practise our office when and where we can. Our
Princess hath been wedded and needs us but once a week. Noble Wendish
gentlemen, will not you engage us?"
She clasped her hands, going a step or two nearer Boris as if in appeal.
"Do, kind sirs," she said, "have pity on two poor girls who have no work
to do. Think--we are orphans and far from home!"
The smiles on the faces of the war-captains broadened. "Ho! ho! Good!"
burst out Boris.
"Ha! ha! Excellent!" assented Jorian, nodding, with his eyes on Martha.
Anna Pappenheim ran quickly on tip-toe round to Boris's back and peered
between his shoulders. Then she ran her eyes down to his heels.
"Sister," she cried, "_they_ do it. That dreadful noise comes from
somewhere about them. I distinctly saw their jaws waggle. They must of a
surety be wound up like an arbalist. Yet I cannot find the string and
trigger! Do come and help me, good Marthe! If you find it, I will dance
at your wedding in my stocking-feet!"
And the gay Franconian reached up and pulled a stray tag of Boris's
jerkin, which hung down his back. The knot slipped, and a circlet of red
and gold, ragged at the lower edges, came off in her hand, revealing the
fact that Boris's noble _soubreveste_ was no more than a fringe of
broidered collar.
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Jorian irrepressibly. For Boris looked mightily
crestfallen to have his magnificence so rudely dealt with.
Anna von Pappenheim clapped her hands.
"I have found it," she cried. "It goes like this. You touch off the
trigger of one, and the other explodes!"
Boris wheeled about with fell intent on his face. He would have caught
the teasing minx in his arms, but Anna skipped round behind a chair and
threatened him with her finger.
"Not till you engage us," she cried. "Hands off, there! We are to array
you--not you to disarray us!"
Whereat the two gamesome Southlanders stood together in ludicrous
imitation of Boris and Jorian's military stiffness, folding their hands
meekly and casting their eyes downward like a pair of most ingenuous
novices listening to the monitions of their Lady Superior. Then Anna's
voice was heard speaking with almost incredible humility.
"Will my lord with the hook nose so great and noble deign to express a
preference which of us shall be his handmaid?"
But they had ventured an inch too far. The string was effectually pulled
now.
"I will have this one--she is so merry!" cried solemn Boris, seizing
Anna Pappenheim about the waist.
"And I this! She pretendeth melancholy, yet has tricks like a monkey!"
said Jorian, quickly following his example. The girls fended them
gallantly, yet, as mayhap they desired, their case was hopeless.
"Hands off! I will not be called 'this one,'" cried Anna, though she did
not struggle too vehemently.
"Nor I a monkey! Let me go, great Wend!" chimed Martha, resigning
herself as soon as she had said it.
In this prosperous estate was the courtship of Franconia and
Plassenburg, when some instinct drew the eyes of Jorian to the door of
the officers' guard-room, which Anna had carefully left open at her
entrance, in order to secure their retreat.
The Duchess Joan stood there silent and regardant.
"Boris!" cried Jorian warningly. Boris lifted his eyes from the smiling
challenge upon Anna's upturned lips, which, after the manner of your
war-captains, he was stooping to kiss.
Unwillingly Boris lifted his eyes. The next moment both the late envoys
of Plassenburg were saluting as stiffly as if they had still been
men-at-arms, while Anna and Martha, blushing divinely, were busy with
their needlework in the corner, as demure as cats caught sipping cream.
Joan looked at the four for a while without speaking.
"Captains Boris and Jorian," she said sternly, "a messenger has come
from Prince Conrad to say that the Muscovites press him hard. He asks
for instant reinforcements. There is not a man fit for duty within the
city saving your command. Will you take them to the Prince's assistance
immediately? Werner von Orseln fights by his side. Maurice and my
Kernsbergers are already on their way."
The countenances of the two Plassenburg captains fell as the leathern
screen drops across a cathedral door through which the evening sunshine
has been streaming.
"My lady, it is heartbreaking, but we cannot," said Boris dolefully.
"Our Lord Prince Hugo bade us keep the city till he should arrive!"
"But I am Governor. I will keep the city," cried Joan; "the women will
mount halberd and carry pike. Go to the Prince! Were Hugo of Plassenburg
here he would be the first to march! Go, I order you! Go, I beseech
you!"
She said the last words in so changed a tone that Boris looked at her in
surprise.
But still he shook his head.
"It is certain that if Prince Hugo were here he would be the first to
ride to the rescue. But Prince Hugo is not here, and my comrade and I
are soldiers under orders!"
"Cowards!" flashed Joan, "I will go myself. The cripples, the halt, and
the blind shall follow me. Thora of Bornheim and these maidens there,
they shall follow me to the rescue of their Prince. Do you, brave men of
Plassenburg, cower behind the walls while the Muscovite overwhelms all
and the true Prince is slain!"
And at this her voice broke and she sobbed out, "Cowards! cowards!
cowards! God preserve me from cowardly men!"
For at such times and in such a cause no woman is just. For which high
Heaven be thanked!
Boris looked at Jorian. Jorian looked at Boris.
"No, madam," said Boris gravely; "your servants are no cowards. It is
true that we were commanded by our master to keep his Palace Guard
within the city walls, and these must stay. But we two are in some sense
still Envoys Extraordinary, and not strictly of the Prince's Palace
Guard. As Envoys, therefore, charged with a free commission in the
interests of peace, we can without wrongdoing accompany you whither you
will. Eh, Jorian?"
"Aye," quoth Jorian; "we are at her Highness's service till ten o' the
clock."
"And why till ten?" asked Joan, turning to go out.
"Oh," returned Jorian, "there is guard-changing and other matters to see
to. But there is time for a wealth of fighting before ten. Lead on,
madam. We follow your Highness!"