The Court Jester Part 12

Then her mistress said, turning to the girl, "If you are innocent, if your conscience does not trouble you, why were you weeping this morning?"

Cimburga made no reply, but putting her ap.r.o.n to her face, began to sob.

"Come, answer me," said the countess gently.

"My dear and gracious mistress, do not ask me why I was weeping, for I can not tell you," sobbed the girl.

"You might as well tell us," said the Lady Clotilde, "for we are bound to know it sooner or later."

"I will never tell, I will go to my death first," said the girl desperately.

"You deserve to go to your death, since you are so stubborn," said the Lady Clotilde vindictively. "But give me back my jewel, and you shall be troubled no more so far as I am concerned."

"I can not give you what I have not got. I call upon all the saints to witness that I know nothing of the object which you have lost."

"She does but blaspheme," said the Lady Clotilde coldly. "Let her be handed over to the law."

The punishment for all kinds of crime was most severe at this time, and it is no wonder that Cimburga sobbed convulsively as she was taken from the room.

This unfortunate incident cast a gloom over the company. It was easy to see that the countess was unhappy about the accusation that had been made against the young girl who was under her own protection. The Lady Clotilde was sulky and restless, while the others seemed to be puzzled by what had happened. When the gentlemen, who had been hunting, returned to the castle, they were told of the occurrence of the morning, and most of those who gave an opinion were inclined to agree with the owner of the jewel that Cimburga was guilty, even the count expressing grave doubts as to her innocence. Cimburga was nothing but a servant, therefore was more than likely to be the thief.

"I wish," said Le Glorieux to Philibert, "that we had left Clotilde in France. I have been acquainted with her for a number of years, and I have never known a time when there was not some kind of agitation on her account. She is always just coming, or just going, or is looking for something that she can not find, or is doing something or other to make everybody around her restless. She is like a whirlwind that picks up leaves and sticks and slams them about. I know that she is your relative, but that is not your fault, my lad, and I respect you none the less for it. We should be judged by our friends and not by our relatives, for we select our own friends. It is a great pity that we are not allowed to select our own relatives too, since we are obliged to see so much of them. I know plenty of people who would have an entire new set of relatives if the thing could be managed."

"Le Glorieux," said Philibert, "I do not believe that the maid stole the moonstone any more than that I took it myself."

"I am not so sure that she is innocent," said Antoine. "Why should she have been weeping at such a rate?"

"Why should anybody weep?" asked Philibert. "For a hundred things. It is no sign because people have been crying that they have also been stealing."

"Let us ask Saint Monica if Cimburga is guilty," suggested the countess the following day. "Our Saint Monica is wonderful," continued she, turning to her guests. "She was placed in her present position by one of the Countesses Von Hohenberg, whose prayers for the reformation of an undutiful son were answered, for you know Saint Monica herself knows what it is to weep for a dissipated son, being the mother of the blessed Saint Augustine, who was very wild until miraculously changed to a saint. They say that when persons accused of a crime are made to pa.s.s before her their innocence or guilt may be proven at once, for if innocent the saint will make a sign, but if guilty she will remain immovable."

"Has she ever been seen to move when put to the test?" asked the Lady Clotilde.

"Never in our time," said the count, replying to the question. "In my grandfather's time it is said that a youth, accused of stealing a gold image from the chapel, pa.s.sed before the saint and asked if he was innocent, and she raised her hand and bowed her head. Many others have tried it since, but they were all guilty, for the saint made no sign."

"We will put Cimburga to the test to-night," said the countess. "The moon will be bright by ten o'clock, and at that time we shall not have so many spectators as we should have during the day."

[Ill.u.s.tration: They started out to see this wonderful saint]

Le Glorieux and the two boys started out to see this wonderful saint.

She stood in the forest within a five minutes' walk from the castle, in front of a great oak. She was a painted wooden figure about five feet in height, and she had been scorched by the summer sun and pelted by rainstorms until her garments were all a dull gray, her face, partly concealed by her nun's coif, wearing a self-satisfied simper not at all consistent with her garb.

"The good saint is not a tall woman," said Philibert, eying her critically. He walked all around the figure, mounted a stone behind it, and examined it closely. "Some day she will move when they least expect it," he said, "for she is not secure on her pedestal, and a storm will blow her over."

In spite of the fact that a late hour had been set for the visit to the saint, and the matter was supposed to be a secret carefully kept from the servants, when the time came to start a curious crowd gathered and followed the supposed culprit, her master and mistress and their guests, to the statue of Saint Monica.

By Cimburga's side walked a tall young man who was said to be the miller's son, and whose presence beside the accused was viewed with considerable astonishment by those who knew him, for his father was well-to-do, and his station was above that of Cimburga. The face of the girl was radiant with happiness, and those who observed her tranquil countenance wondered why she exhibited so little agitation at a time when she might be supposed to be in a state of despair.

It was a very solemn procession that walked out on that moonlight night.

At present there exist comparatively few people who would expect a wooden saint to move, even from a motive so n.o.ble as to prove the innocence of an accused person; but, as has already been said, many strange things were believed in the fifteenth century.

Even all whispering ceased as they approached the saint. The princess, warmly wrapped in fur, was riding a little mule, and as Le Glorieux walked beside her she slipped a cold hand into his with a s.h.i.+ver of fear, and all stepped softly over the frosty ground as if fearful of something, they knew not what. The wind swept through the trees, rustling the dry leaves. Was the saint already moving? No, it was only the shadow of a limb, which, stirred by the wind, swayed above her head.

"Hist!" said the castle chaplain, though there was no need to call for silence, as none at that moment felt in the least like talking. Then, in a solemn voice, the priest invoked the saint to deign to decide the fate of the accused maiden then standing before her. Was she innocent of the sin of theft?

He paused, there was a breathless moment of expectancy, then _Saint Monica really did move_. There was no doubt about it. She bowed her head and raised her right hand! All saw her do it, as they would tell their children, and their children's children, for years to come. The priest murmured some words in Latin, then all returned immediately to the castle, for none seemed inclined to remain in the neighborhood of the saint who so kindly had set their minds at rest. All gathered in the chapel, where a Te Deum was sung, as it had been sung for the first time when the son of Saint Monica was converted.

As soon as the exercises in the chapel were concluded the little princess retired to her own apartments, whispering to Le Glorieux as she pa.s.sed him, "Bring Cimburga and the miller's son to me, and let no one else accompany you."

Marveling at this summons, and wondering what the daughter of their future emperor could have to say to them, now that Saint Monica had decided in the girl's favor, settling the question of her innocence, the young couple followed the jester. The Lady Marguerite had dismissed even Cunegunda, and was all alone when they entered the room. She sat in a large chair, and in a rather unprincess-like fas.h.i.+on, for she had been chilled in the cold chapel, and she had drawn her feet up under the folds of her velvet gown. After the young couple had knelt at her feet, and had saluted her according to the custom of the time, she bade them stand before her, and Le Glorieux said with great frankness, "I will leave the room if you say so, little Princess; but to be strictly honest about it, I should like mightily to stay and hear what you have to say to these young folk, and you may be sure that I shall not mention it to a soul."

"It is not a secret," replied the princess; "I was only afraid that they might be embarra.s.sed by an audience."

"They will not be embarra.s.sed by my presence," said he quickly, "for a fool in a room is of no more importance than a cat."

"You make yourself of small account when it is to gain your own ends, but stay, if you like," she returned, laughing.

"And as I do like, I will stay," he returned, sitting down on the floor beside her chair.

The young couple, standing, blus.h.i.+ng and abashed before her, gazed with awe at the little maiden, who seemed almost lost in the embrace of the huge chair in which she sat. But when they saw that her eyes were soft and s.h.i.+ning, that her lips were curved into a friendly smile, they forgot for the moment that she was of royal blood, and would, doubtless, one day wear the crown of a mighty kingdom. A silver griffin of a sconce near by held a light in its claws, which fell full upon Cimburga and the miller's son. The latter was tall and straight, with an honest, n.o.ble countenance, and certainly there were many ladies who were not half so pretty as Cimburga. The little princess wondered why these humble people should be so handsome, and concluded that the good G.o.d had given them personal comeliness to make up for lack of worldly goods, for certainly the athletic figure of the youth could have been no handsomer clad in velvet and satin than in the plain garments he now wore, and the flash of jewels could have made the eyes of Cimburga no brighter than they were at this moment.

"Your name is Cimburga?" said Marguerite, addressing the girl; "that is a Polish name."

"Yes, your Highness, it is the name of my grandmother, who was born in Poland, and who was given the name of the mother of his Imperial Majesty, the grandfather of your gracious Highness."

"That is a mixture of relatives that makes my head ache," observed Le Glorieux.

"Then it may be wise for you to leave the room," replied the princess slyly.

"If I did anything wise I would not be a fool," he returned; "therefore I stay."

"It is true," said Marguerite, "that my great grandmother was Cimburga of Poland, and it is from her, they say, that the archduke, my father, inherited his great physical strength. And now, Cimburga, I want you to answer my questions and do not be afraid, for no harm shall come to you from anything you may say to me. That you did not commit the crime of which you are accused we all know now, and I felt from the first, but why had you been crying even before you were accused?"

The girl dropped her eyes and a very pretty color dyed her cheeks.

"Your Highness," she faltered, playing restlessly with the cord that laced her bodice, "it was because I was afraid that Karl and I could never wed. His father, your Highness, is a miller and a man of means, and he wishes his son to marry the weaver's daughter, who can bring him a dowry, while I have nothing. And I had reason to believe that he was ready to obey his father; but when this great trouble was sent upon me he came to say that he cared only for me, that he believed in my innocence, and that he would stand by my side let happen what would. And after that, your Highness, I was not afraid of anything that might come."

"Karl is a worthy youth," said the princess. "I have heard my good confessor say that there is nothing more beautiful in this world than the love that brings our friends to our side when fortune frowns, and that good friends are the stars that s.h.i.+ne all the brighter when night is darkest. But it is not right to disobey one's parents, and you would not wed without your father's consent?"

Karl was about to reply, when Cimburga said quickly, "No, your Highness, but even if his father should never be willing for us to wed, it is a joy to know that he cares for me, and that when all others were against me he still had faith in me."

The little princess now realized that it is sometimes a great pleasure to be a person whose authority can be felt. She at once made up her mind that the mercenary miller should give his consent to the match, and that willingly, even gladly.

"What is the size of the dowry that this fortunate weaver's daughter will be able to bring to you?" she asked, turning to the young man.

"It is quite a large one, your Highness," he returned, with a sigh, as though he wished from the bottom of his heart that the thrifty weaver had been a gay spendthrift instead of having been a provident money-saver. And he mentioned a sum at which the Lady Marguerite smiled behind her hand, it seemed so small to her.

"Le Glorieux," said she, "go into my bedchamber and ask one of my women to give you the bra.s.s-bound box which will be found in the top of the chest."