Under the Rose Part 14

"The same, my friend of the motley," continued the other, not without complacency, observing the effect of his announcement on the jester.

"He who calls himself the free baron of Hochfels?" observed the fool, setting down the gla.s.s from which he had moderately partaken.

"Aye; a man of royal and peasant blood," harshly answered the free-booter. "Ambition, arrogance, are the kingly inheritance; strength, a const.i.tution of iron, the low-born legacy. What think you of such an endowment?"

"You are far from your castle, my Lord of Hochfels," commented the jester, absently, unmindful of a question he felt not called upon to answer.

"And yet as safe as in my own mountain nest," retorted the free baron, or free-booter, indifferently. "Who would betray me? There is not a trooper of mine but would die for his master. You would not denounce me, because--but why enumerate the reasons? I hold you in the palm of my hand, and, when I close my fingers, there's the end of you."

"But where--allow me; the wine has a rare flavor," and he reached for the flask.

"Drink freely," returned the pretender; "it is the king's own, and you are my guest. You were about to ask--"

"Whence came the idea for this mad adventure?" said the jester, his eyes seemingly bent in admiration on the goblet he held; a half globe of crystal sustained by a golden Bacchus.

"Idea!" repeated the self-called baron, with a gesture of satisfaction.

"It was more than an idea. It was an inspiration, born of that chance which points the way to greatness. The feat accomplished, all Europe will wonder at the wanton exploit. At first Francis will rage; then seeing me impregnably intrenched, will make the best of the marriage, especially as the groom is of royal blood. Next, an alliance with the French king against the emperor. Why not; was not Francis once ready to treat even with Solyman to defeat Charles, an overture which shocked Christendom? And while Charles' energies are bent to the task of protecting his country from the Turks, a new leader appears; a devil-may-care fellow--and then--and then--"

He broke off abruptly; stared before him, as though the fumes of wine were at last beginning to rise to his head; toyed with his gla.s.s and drank it quickly at a draft. "What an alluring will-o'-the-wisp is--to-morrow!" he muttered.

"An illusive hope that reconciles us with to-day," answered the _plaisant_.

"Illusive!" cried the other. "Only for poets, dreamers, fools!"

"And you, Sir Baron, are neither one nor the other," remarked the jester. "No philosopher, but a plain soldier, who chops heads--not logic. But the inspiration that caused you to embark upon this hot-brained, pretty enterprise?"

"Upon a spur of rock that overlooks the road through the mountain is set the Vulture's Nest, Sir Fool," began the adventurer in a voice at once confident and arrogant. "At least, so the time-honored fortress of Hochfels is disparagingly designated by the people. As the road is the only pa.s.s through the mountains, naturally we come more or less in contact with the people who go by our doors. Being thus forced, through the situation of our fortress, into the proximity of the traveling public, we have, from time to time, made such sorties as are practised by a beleaguered garrison, and have, in consequence, taken prisoners many traffickers and traders, whose goods and chattels were worthy of our attention as spoils of war. Generally, we have confined our operations to migratory merchants, who carry more of value and cause less trouble than the emperor's soldiers or the king's troopers, but occasionally we brush against one of the latter bands so that we may keep in practice in laying our blades to the grindstone, and also to show we are soldiers, not robbers."

"Which remains to be proved," murmured the attentive jester. "Your pardon, n.o.ble Lord"--as the other half-started from his chair--"let me fill your gla.s.s. 'Tis a pity to neglect such royal wine. Proceed with your story. Come we presently to the inspiration?"

"At once," answered the apparently appeased master of the fortress, wiping his lips. "One day our western outpost brought in a messenger, and, when we had stripped the knave, upon him we found a miniature and a letter from the princess to the duke. The latter was prettily writ, with here and there a rhyme, and moved me mightily. The eagle hath its mate, I thought, but the vulture of Hochfels is single, and this reflection, with the sight of the picture and that right, fair script, saddened me.

"And then, on a sudden, came the inspiration. Why not play a hand in this international marriage Charles and Francis were bringing about? I commanded the only road across the mountain; therefore, did command the situation. The emperor and the king should be but the wooden figures, and I would pull the strings to make them dance. The duke, your master, why should he be more than a name? The princess' letter told me she had never seen her betrothed. What easier than to redouble the sentries in the valley, make prisoners of the messengers, clap them in the fortress dungeons, read the missives, and then despatch them to their respective destinations by men of my own?"

"Then that was the reason why on my way through the mountains your knaves attacked me?" said the listener quickly.

"Exactly; to search you. How you slipped through their hands I know not." And he glanced at the other curiously.

"They were but poor rogues," answered the jester quickly.

"Certainly are you not one!" exclaimed the free baron, with a glance of approval at the slender figure of his antagonist. "Two of them paid for their carelessness. The others were so shamed, they told me some great knight had attacked them. A fool in motley!" he laughed. "No wonder the rogues hung their heads! But in deceiving me," he added thoughtfully, "they permitted their master to run into an unknown peril--his ignorance that a fool of the duke, or a fool wearing the emblem of the emperor, had gone to Francis' court."

"You were saying, Sir Free Baron, you intended to read the messages between the princess and the duke, and afterward to despatch them by messengers of your own?" interrupted the _plaisant_.

"Such were my plans. Moreover, I possessed a clerk--a knave who had killed an abbot and fled from the monastery--a man of poetry, wit and sentiment. Whenever the letters lacked for ardor, and the lovers had grown too timid, him I set to forge a postscript, or indite new missives, which the rogue did most prettily, having studied love-making under the monks. And thus, Sir Fool, I courted and won the princess--by proxy!"

"Of a certainty, your wooing was at least novel, Sir Knight of the Vulture's Nest," dryly observed the jester. "Although, had my master known the deception, you would, perhaps, have paid dearly for it."

"Your master, forsooth!" laughed the outlaw lord. "A puny scion of a worn-out ancestry! Such a woman as the princess wants a man of brawn and muscle; no weakling of the nursery."

"Well," said the fool, slowly, "you became intermediary between the princess and the duke, and the king and the emperor. But to come into the heart of France; to the king's very palace--did you not fear detection?"

"How?" retorted the other, raising his head and resting his eyes, bloodshot and heavy, on the fool's impa.s.sive features. "The road between the two monarchs is mine; no message can now pa.s.s. The emperor and the duke may wonder, but the way here is long, and"--with a smile--"I have ample time for the enterprise ere the alarm can be given."

"And you paved the way for your coming by altering the letters of the duke, or forging new ones?" suggested the listener.

"How else? A word added here and there; a post-script, or even a page!

As for their highnesses' seals, any fool can break and mend a seal. In a week the duke will wonder at the princess' silence; in a fortnight he will become uneasy; in a month he will learn the cage has been left open and the bird hath flown. Then, too, shall the gates of the dungeon be set ajar, and the true, but tardy, messengers permitted to go their respective ways. Is it not a nice adventure? Am I not a fitter leader than your duke?"

"Undoubtedly," returned the jester. "He sits at home, while you are here in his stead. But what will the princess say when she learns?"

"Nothing. She loves me already."

The fool turned pale; the hand that held his gla.s.s, however, was firm, and he set the goblet down without a tremor.

"She may weep a little, but it will pa.s.s like a summer shower. Women are weak; women are yielding. Have I not reason to know?" he burst out. "I, a--"

Brusquely he arose from his chair, leaving the sentence uncompleted.

Sternly he surveyed the jester.

"Why not take service with me?" he continued, abruptly. "Austria is ripe to revolt against the tyranny of the emperor. With the discontent in the Netherlands, the dissensions in Spain, Europe is like a field, cut up, awaiting new-comers."

He paused to allow the force of his words to appeal to the other's imagination. "What say you?" he continued. "Will you serve me?"

"The matter's worth thinking over," answered the fool, evasively.

"Well, take your time," said the king's guest, regarding him more sharply. "And now, as the candles are low and the flask is empty, you had better take your leave."

At this intimation that the other considered the interview ended, the fool started to his feet and deliberately made his way to the door opening into the corridor.

"Good-night!" he said, and was about to depart when the free baron held him with a word.

"Hold! Why have you not attempted to unmask me--before?"

Steadily the two looked at each other; the eyes of the elder man, cruel, deep, all-observing; those of the younger, steady, fearless, undismayed. Few of his troopers could withstand the sinister penetration of Louis of Hochfels' gaze, but on the jester it seemed to have no more effect than the casual glance of one of Francis' courtiers.

"You knew--and yet you made no sign?" continued the master of the fortress.

"Because I like a strong play and did not wish to spoil it--too soon!"

The questioner's brow fell; the lids half-veiled the dark, savage eyes, but the mouth relaxed. "Ah, you always have your answer," he returned with apparent cordiality. "Good-night--and, by the by, our truce is at an end."

"The truce--and the wine," said the jester, as with a ceremonious bow, he vanished amid the shadows in the hall.

Slowly the free baron closed the door and locked it; looked at the cross and at the bed, but made no motion toward either.

"He has already rejected my proposal," thought the self-styled duke.

"Does he seek for higher rewards by betraying me? Or is it, then, Triboulet told the truth? Is he an aspiring lover of the princess? Or is he only faithful to his master? Why have I failed to read him? As though a film lay across his eyes, that index to a man's soul!"