The Court Jester Part 27

"Cunegunda is once more suffering from migraine, and thinks that nothing will cure her but another pilgrimage to the shrine of Saint Roch. She thinks that when she was there before she did not give enough time to her prayer, being in too great haste to leave; otherwise she would have been cured permanently. I am often depressed and weary, and I think the journey will benefit me. So I shall go with such of my household as I shall need."

"It is a long journey to make for Cunegunda's sake," observed the jester.

"Cunegunda has been one of my best friends throughout my life," replied the princess, "so why should I not strive to please her? But as I said before, it is not altogether upon her account that I want to go. I wish to be taken out of myself. The world is not so happy a place as it used to be."

"Little Cousin, I do not often ask a favor of you, do I?" asked the fool.

"No, Le Glorieux, a fact which would make me the more inclined to grant you one now."

"I want you to let me have a man and a horse," he replied.

"For what purpose?"

"I wish to send a message to the young Duke of Savoy. He lost a valuable jewel when he was with us, and I want to tell him where he can find it."

"Perhaps it is between the leaves of his prayer-book," said the princess, smiling. "But if you have an idea where this wonderful jewel is, why can you not find it and send it to him?"

"There are certain reasons why such an act on my part would be out of the question," returned the jester. "But if you do not want to let me have the man and the horse, we will say nothing more about it."

"I do not object in the least, Le Glorieux. Send as many messengers as you like to Savoy."

They set out from the historic city of Aix-la-Chapelle, where the court was staying at the time, and even at the end of the first day's travel the princess expressed herself as being wonderfully benefited with the journey.

[Ill.u.s.tration: They approached a hostelry]

Late on the following afternoon as they approached a hostelry where they expected to stay the night, they noticed a queer-looking animal painted on the sign-board and before they were sufficiently near to read the name beneath it, they began to speculate as to what it could be.

"I should say it was a horse," said the princess.

"And I," said the jester, who rode at her side, "should call it a calf in convulsions."

Coming nearer they read the sign, which was "The Flying Fawn." So many things had happened since she had heard the name that the princess had forgotten it, but as they drew up and the pretty landlady came to the door, Le Glorieux exclaimed, "Cimburga!"

Yes, it was Frau Obermeister, as Cimburga was now called, and she was followed by her tall husband, both almost doubting the evidence of their senses when they beheld the princess. Even before the latter alighted from her mule Cimburga ran out and was about to press the hem of Marguerite's robe to her lips when the princess reached out her hand, which the landlady kissed, saying, "Oh, gracious lady, I never have forgotten your face, which is now more beautiful than ever. And never have I ceased to offer the prayer I told you of, and my little daughter, although she can scarcely lisp the words, offers pet.i.tions to the Blessed Virgin for your health and happiness, for she has learned that it is to your goodness that we owe all that we now have."

"Happiness is a strange thing," remarked Le Glorieux afterward to Cimburga. "You and Karl living in this snug inn, with your two chubby children, have plenty of it, while the Lady Marguerite, even when she wedded the Prince of the Asturias, had not found it."

"It will yet come to her; she is still very young, and my prayers will be answered," replied Cimburga simply.

Castle Hohenberg was a good many miles north of The Flying Fawn, but Cimburga had heard one piece of news from that hospitable household which, when she told it to him, surprised the fool greatly. The seneschal had married the housekeeper shortly after the visit of the emperor.

"I can not believe it!" cried Le Glorieux. "Why, those two were always quarreling!"

"And so they were," she agreed, "but now, I am told, they never speak an unpleasant word to each other."

Speaking of this marriage to his mistress, when they had resumed their journey, the jester said, "For a couple who were ready to scratch each other's eyes out before marriage, to be perfectly angelic afterward, is nothing less than a miracle."

She replied, "Hohenberg is the place for miracles. Think of Saint Monica."

"Which was not a miracle, after all," replied the fool; and then he told her the truth regarding that night's strange occurrence, as it had been related to him by Philibert, adding, "He did it because you had prayed for her, little Cousin."

It was, as the jester had said, a long journey, but at length they reached the end of it, and Cunegunda made frequent visits to the shrine of Saint Roch, declaring even after the first one that the pain was much less severe than it had been.

Everything about the old inn was much as it had been at their first visit, though the little Mary had become a great chatterbox, and this time was able to thank the princess for the present of a gold piece.

Anne, the queen-d.u.c.h.ess, was staying for a time in one of her castles in the province of Brittany, it being her custom to visit her domain as often as she could make it convenient to do so. Hearing of the presence at the inn of the Princess of the Asturias, she sent to her an invitation, offering the hospitality of her roof for the Easter season.

Although the King of France and the Emperor of Austria had been enemies, the princess and the queen had not shared the ill feeling, and history, which as a rule makes out people to have been worse than they really were, admits that the two ladies ever were friendly to each other and that they sometimes exchanged presents.

The King of France was away with his soldiers, and as the royal little ones had remained in the palace of Amboise, it was not difficult to imagine that time had remained stationary and that the fair chatelaine of the castle was still simply the Lady Anne, d.u.c.h.ess of Brittany.

Fetes and entertainments were arranged in honor of the guest, and happy were the hours that Anne and Marguerite spent together.

On Easter Monday the people for miles around met in the valley to engage in the customary games of the season. The married men entertained themselves with archery, the prize for the best shot being considered worth winning. The archers shot at a cask of wine, and he who was so fortunate as to pierce the wood was permitted to put his lips to the aperture thus made, and to drink of the amber liquid until he was satisfied, the others taking their turn when he had finished. But the young people craved something more exciting than the mere drinking of wine, and their gay laughter rang out joyously and vigorously as they went through their native dances.

The princess from her place beside her royal hostess enjoyed the scene thoroughly. Finally began the most exciting dance of the day. A hundred eggs were scattered over the ground and two youths chose their partners and began the figure. Although on the surface a trivial matter and one to provoke laughter, this dance was a very serious affair to those who engaged in it; for the couple who could skip over the eggs, glide between them, twirl about them in the many turns required by the dance, without breaking or cracking an egg, might marry each other in spite of the opposition of parents or guardians. Each couple was allowed three trials, and the dance being successfully concluded, none had a right to say "Nay" to the union.

While the merrymaking was at its height the sound of a hunter's horn was heard ringing through the forest, and soon there appeared a company of men on horseback and in brilliant uniforms. At their head rode a beautiful youth attired in the rich costume affected by the n.o.bles of the time, who, leaping from his horse, bent a graceful knee to the queen, requesting her hospitality. It was granted at once, for this was Philibert the Handsome, Duke of Savoy!

He bowed low before the princess and gave a friendly greeting to the others, but to Le Glorieux he murmured, "The jewel about which you wrote me I have come to claim."

The dance, which had ceased when the hunters appeared upon the scene, was now resumed with greater merriment than before, and after watching them intently for a while Marguerite said wistfully, "Would that I might try that dance."

Then Philibert once more inclined his graceful figure and said, "Madame, will you permit me to be your partner?"

This was equivalent to an offer of marriage, and his followers and her own became wildly enthusiastic. Cries were heard of "Austria and Savoy!"

and it seemed to Le Glorieux that in his joy his own cry must have rung to the very skies, while cheer upon cheer rent the air.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Princess placed her hand in his]

The princess placed her hand in his and the comely pair took their places. There was a serious task before them. They must dance around and over and between those eggs without breaking any, and that, too, with many eyes intently watching them. The members of n.o.ble families were accustomed to dance; the little feet of the lady could poise as lightly as thistle-down, while the knight was graceful in every step. When the dance was ended not a single egg had been touched!

Exercise in the open air had deepened the tint on the cheek of the princess. Philibert bent his head and whispered something in her ear.

"Yes," said she, smiling brightly, "let us follow the custom of the country."

"Philibert has found his jewel," said Le Glorieux, "and I have helped him to get it."

"What jewel do you mean?" asked the princess.

"What should I mean, but yourself, fair lady? You are the jewel he always has admired. I am nothing but a fool, but I am not blind."

One year from that day the two were married. To their guests they gave as souvenirs gold and silver eggs filled with spices, which they called Easter eggs, and which the natives of Savoy claim was the origin of the pleasant custom of giving eggs at that season.

And Philibert and Marguerite never had occasion to regret that happy day in the forest, when, forgetting everything save that their hearts were beating with the joy of youth, they together tripped the measures of the egg-dance.

THE END