The Court Jester
CHAPTER II
A FESTIVAL AT THE INN
The following morning bright and early the procession rode briskly outof the castle courtyard. The Lady Clotilde traveled in her litter andwas attended by her maids and her men-servants and her guards on mules,the guards being necessary, for it was dangerous for those possessingmoney and jewels to travel unless they were protected from the outlawswho infested mountain and forest.
At the rear of the company rode Le Glorieux on a steed he alwayspreferred when riding abroad. This was a donkey which the fool had namedPittacus after one of the seven wise men of Greece, for he declared thelittle animal was very wise, though no one as yet had discovered thefact. On the jester's wrist was perched Pandora, his hawk, for he vowedthat no man with a proper degree of self-respect would be seen in publicwithout his hawk, which was true, the fashion of the time having sodecreed. Pandora wore a cunning little red leather hood with some bellsattached to it, and, to keep her from escaping from him, a cord attachedto her leg was fastened to the jester's arm.
Antoine, whose lute was slung to his shoulder by a blue ribband, wasmounted upon a small gray mule and rode beside his comrade, the twowhistling and singing and making so merry together that more than oncethe Lady Clotilde put her head out between the curtains of her litterand, with a very severe face and a harsh voice, bade them be quiet.
History tells us that Edward the Second of England had a jester whoamused his royal master simply by riding before him and frequentlyfalling off his horse, so it is no wonder that a boy of the age ofAntoine should have been kept in a continuous state of merriment causedby the antics of his friend. You doubtless have been to the circus, andyou know what a very funny fellow a clown can be, and how the boys andgirls in the audience are inclined to laugh every time he opens hismouth, and how even the grown people are not ashamed to smile at hisdrolleries. Then imagine the bliss experienced by Antoine in riding witha real clown who performed, not because he was expected to do so and waspaid for it, but because he was anxious to have a good time.
Sometimes the jester rode with his face toward the donkey's tail, atothers he lay flat on the animal's back, to the intense indignation ofPittacus and Pandora, neither of whom could appreciate that sort ofthing. Then sometimes the boy and the fool broke into song together, andif the birds were not exactly "ashamed of themselves," as Le Glorieuxhad predicted they would be, they must have been very much astonished,to say the least.
This mode of travel was not so swift as one may find in France to-day,but it had its advantages, for the scenery could be more thoroughlyenjoyed when every bird and every flower could be leisurely surveyedinstead of passing the car window like a flash, leaving upon the mind noimpression whatever.
They stopped at an old inn]
After a journey of some days they entered Brittany, and stopped atnightfall at an old inn situated on a cliff above the Loire, whichsmoothly ripples its way to the Bay of Biscay.
The arrival of the Lady Clotilde and her party created a certain degreeof agitation throughout the inn, for an empress could not have been moreexacting in her demands than this lady, who always seemed to think thatshe was created first and the rest of the world added as anafterthought.
Soon afterward there came a middle-aged woman and a little girlapparently of about twelve years of age, who caused no commotionwhatever, for they were unattended and plainly clad. The Lady Clotilde,looking out of her window, pronounced the woman to be an ordinaryperson, and, supposing the little girl to be the woman's child, did notwaste even a glance upon her, but began to give quick, sharp commandsregarding her own supper, which was brought to her hot and fragrant withappetizing odors, and with which, strange to say, she found no fault.
But in the great kitchen of the inn that night there was a joyfulcelebration. The innkeeper's baby daughter had been christened that dayand this was the feast which followed it. Mine host had invited LeGlorieux and Antoine to join him and his friends in the celebration ofthe occasion, and, after the guests of the house had been served, a longtable, uncovered and made of rough unplaned wood, was spread with allthe good things the hostelry afforded. There was roast pig stuffed withchopped meat and aromatic herbs, and there were meat pasties andragouts, to say nothing of sugared cakes and various other dainties.There was no coffee, for that was about a hundred and fifty years beforethat now popular beverage was used in Europe, but there was the wine ofthe country, which, being pure and honestly made, was less dangerousthan the wine of to-day. Another feature was lacking which now is sofamiliar; the air at the close of the meal was not contaminated with theodor of pipes and cigars, for Sir Walter Raleigh, who brought tobaccofrom savagery to civilization, was not even born, and the mainland ofthe New World was still waiting for Columbus.
Le Glorieux in his fantastic costume of striped yellow and green, andhis queer cap with its points sticking out on either side and adornedwith bells, was an object of much interest, for it was the first timethese people had ever seen such a costume. To-day the portraits of thecelebrated people of the world are familiar to all who have pennies toinvest in newspapers, and had there been at that time the samefacilities for spreading the news that there are to-day, Le Glorieux,with his sayings and doings, particularly in the campaign with his latemaster, would have been written up again and again, and the public, youmay be sure, would have known his face as well as those of its ownfather and mother.
The innkeeper, his family, and friends all wore what to us would seemlike comic opera costumes: mine host, fat and rosy, wore his holidaysuit of a gorgeous color, and all the men were similarly attired, whilethe women wore pink, or blue, or green bodices with short skirts of adifferent color. On their heads they wore flat white linen caps fittingclose, and with tails to them like mantles floating down their backs,the costume being completed by a high collar flaring out from theshoulders.
The fairest of the women was the pale, pretty young mother, who castmany proud glances at the rude wooden cradle in the corner where lay thereal heroine of the occasion, and, to her, the most important person inthe company.
Considered the most distinguished of the guests, Le Glorieux was given aseat at the head of the table, where he immediately began to makehimself at home, not only with the viands, but with the company, keepingup a continuous chatter and convulsing his audience with his merryjokes.
"I should like to know the name of the woman who came shortly after ourarrival," he said after a while, turning to his host, who replied, "I donot know her name; her garb is plain, yet she seems to be one who isaccustomed to the best of everything, for she insisted upon having twoof my largest rooms for herself and the child, showing that she had themeans to pay for them. She is on her way to the shrine of Saint Roch inthe forest beyond, to be relieved of a migraine that torments hermorning, noon, and night."
"And the blessed Saint Roch will cure her," said the innkeeper's motherconfidently; "no one goes in pain from his shrine."
Le Glorieux had noticed the shrine as they came along. The good saint,who is supposed to lend a kindly hearing to those who are suffering fromphysical ailments, was carved in rock above a clear spring. He wasrepresented as a young man with his robe lifted to show a plague spot onhis leg, and by his side was the dog which brought bread to him when hewas starving. When the readers of this story travel abroad they will seepictures of Saint Roch painted by Rubens, Guido, Tintoretto, and othergreat masters.
"I have heard my mother say that when the plague was in many parts ofEurope it never came near Brittany because of Saint Roch," remarked ayoung woman.
"I should think not," observed Le Glorieux; "curing the plague is whathe prides himself upon, and it is not reasonable to suppose that hewould allow it to rage under his very nose."
"From the tinkle of your bells," said a foppish young man at thejester's left, a youth who had grown a little envious of the attentionpaid to Le Glorieux, "I should say that you are a fool."
"And from the tinkle of your tongue, I have been suspecting the
samething of you," retorted the other quickly.
"No man may say that of me!" said the foppish youth, springing to hisfeet and drawing his dagger from its sheath, while the jester drew hissword.
"Shame upon you, Nicole, to begin a brawl upon such an occasion," saidthe innkeeper, rising and putting his hand upon his friend's arm, whilesome of the women gave little shrieks of fear, though at this period theclash of swords and daggers was not an unusual sound, and such a scenewas liable to happen in almost any company.
"Our host is right," said Le Glorieux, replacing his sword in its sheathwith a decided clank. "Such a fray is not only disrespectful to theladies, but it will give an opportunity for that lovely pig to get coldbefore we have a chance to finish it. I will just say, however, that ifthis young man is anxious to fight me I am ready to meet him in somequiet spot at any moment that may be convenient to him." And the jesterresumed his seat at the table.
"The woman who came to-day is not the mother of that child," remarkedthe innkeeper, anxious to change the subject.
"Did she tell you so?" asked his mother.
"No, but I have eyes. The woman is of the ordinary walks of life, aGerman, I should say, while the little girl is an aristocrat, and if Iam not very much mistaken she is French."
"But she is clothed no better than the woman," argued his mother. "Anaristocrat would not travel without attendants and dress in such poorstyle, and----"
An exclamation from some one on the opposite side of the table arrestedher words, for standing in the doorway was the child of whom they werespeaking. She was a pretty little maiden with large blue eyes, whoselong lashes made them appear black, and her hair, which hung in halfcurling masses below her waist, was of a reddish gold. She was dressedin a dark blue gown of coarse woolen material, with a close-fitting capof the same. She seemed not at all abashed at thus entering where shehad not been invited, saying in a clear sweet voice, "May I stay herefor a while? Cunegunda put me to bed and then retired herself, for sheis so tormented by migraine that she did not sit by me for a time, asshe usually does. I could not sleep on account of all this racket, so Idressed myself and came down and would like to remain for a littlewhile, if I may."
"I am sorry we disturbed your rest, my little lady," replied theinnkeeper respectfully. "I will change your room, if you wish."
"No," said the little girl, "I do not want you to do that. I am going tostay up as long as you do if you will let me. I want to see what thiskind of an entertainment is like."
"Then I will make a place at the table," returned he.
"Thank you, no," she returned, with dignity. "I have had all that Irequire. I will just sit here by the window and look on."
"That you may and welcome," said the innkeeper heartily, "and in orderthat you may do so to the greatest advantage, I am going to place youhere," and lifting her lightly he placed her on the deep window seat,which was some distance from the floor. "And now you may not only lookat us, but at this pretty bird as well."
The casement of the window, which swung like a door, was opened on theinside, and perched on top of it where her master had placed her,sulkily ruffling her feathers as though strongly disapproving of hersurroundings, was Pandora.
"You have never been so close to a fine hooded bird before, I warrant,"said the innkeeper.
"I have birds of my own, and they are all hooded," replied the childindifferently.
The people seated at the table glanced significantly at each other as ifto ask, "Is she bragging, or is she of a higher rank than she pretendsto be?" for middle-class folk did not possess hooded birds.
"To whom does this one belong?" asked the child.
"To that gentleman seated at the head of the table," was the reply.
She looked at him thoughtfully and then at the bird. "I wonder how ahawk likes belonging to a fool," she said.
Everybody laughed, Le Glorieux loudest of all. "No matter how wise afool may appear, his cap and bells will always betray him," he said."Yes, my friends, as you no doubt have suspected, I am a court jester. Ibelonged to Duke Charles the Bold of Burgundy, and now I am being sentas a present to her Grace, the young Duchess of Brittany."
"I have suspected your identity all along," said a fat friar seated atthe other end of the table. "I was at Beauvais during the siege and Iheard of you there. You are Le Glorieux."
The jester rose and made an extravagant bow. "At your service," said he."Yes," he continued, taking his place again, "I was at the siege ofBeauvais. I saw the young maid Jeanne Fourquet, in imitation of the Maidof Orleans, fight like a witch with her little ax, for which she wasnamed Jeanne Hachette, and when a tall Burgundian was scaling the wallsand was planting his banner, she pushed him over into the ditch andwaving her flag shouted, 'Victory!' I am not boring anybody by talkingabout the past, am I?" asked the fool suddenly.
"On the contrary," said the host, "it is more interesting than a tale ofgnomes and pixies."
"You see," explained Le Glorieux, "I have lived so long at court, wherethe past is raked out and talked over and over, that I am afraid torelate anything that happened longer ago than the day before yesterday."
"If it please you, continue," said one of the company. "We are humblefolk living in a quiet village, and we know but little of what happensin the great world outside."
So Le Glorieux continued, keeping the company chilled with awe orshaking with laughter, according to the nature of the incident hehappened to be relating. It may be that some of the incidents he relatednever occurred outside of his own brain, but one at least of hisanecdotes may be found in history.
"It was after the siege of Beauvais," said he, "that Cousin Charles camenearer to giving me a cuff on the jaw than ever happened before orafterward. He was quite boastful, was Charles, and with considerablepomp he was conducting some ambassadors through the arsenal. He stoppedshort in one of the rooms and swelling himself up said, 'This roomcontains the keys of all the cities of France.' Then I began to fumblein my pockets and to search all over the room. 'Now, donkey, for whatare you looking so anxiously?' asked he. I replied, 'I am looking forthe key of Beauvais,' and that made him turn as red as your doublet,mine host, for we had not been victorious at Beauvais."
"But you were very brave there, although a mere youth," remarked thefriar, "and I should advise our young friend here to think twice beforehe meets you out, as you have invited him to do."
"Oh, we will let that pass, if he is willing," said Le Glorieuxgood-naturedly, an arrangement with which the young man, who was notespecially brave, was very glad to agree.
"And now," said the jester, "I am reminded that there is one thing thatI have forgotten, and that is to ask the name that you have given tothat blessed baby."
"That you will be glad to hear," said the host, rubbing his handsdelightedly. "The good wife too is a Burgundian, and nothing would dobut that we should name the little one for the Duchess Mary. Heaven resther soul!" he continued reverently.
It happened that this was the one theme that could render Le Glorieuxsad. He had worshiped the young Duchess Mary, who had ruled the provinceafter the death of her father, Charles the Bold--worshiped her as afaithful dog loves his kind mistress. He had seen her betrothed atGhent to the Archduke Maximilian of Austria, also styled King of theRomans, and when a few years later news had come of her death, caused bya fall from her horse, the jester had known the first real grief of hislife.
"Yes," said the mother of the baby. "Her name is Mary, and may she be asgood and beautiful as the poor young duchess, cut off in the bloom ofher life."
The jester rose, and going to the cradle took in his own the little babyhand curled like a crumpled rose-leaf. "Mary, namesake of an angel, Isalute you," said he, pressing the tiny fingers to his lips.
"No matter how well the children of the poor young duchess are caredfor, they will miss the love of their mother, for there is nothing likeit," said the innkeeper's wife. "One of them, the Lady Marguerite ofHapsburg, is to be Queen of France," she added proudly.
"I was so fortunate as to witness that betrothal," said the friar,helping himself to another piece of the pasty.
"You did!" cried Le Glorieux. "I would give a year of my life to seeMary's little child. Tell us about it, good friar."
The child in the window, who had at first sat carelessly swinging herlittle feet, had now drawn them up to the sill, and turning sidewise andwith her hands clasped about her knees, was listening intently.
"It was eight years ago that the betrothal took place, if you willremember," began the friar in the satisfied tone of one who feels thatwhat he is about to tell will be vastly interesting to his audience. "Iwas riding my mule to the city of Amboise on business for my order.
"At Herdin, which is near that city, I saw a great concourse of people,and being under a vow of silence for that day, I could ask no questions,but drew up with the crowd to see what was going on. The air was wildwith the acclamations of the people, and _gens d'armes_ were stalkingabout to make the crowd stand back so that the road might be leftunobstructed.
"Then from the city came a glittering procession of ladies and gentlemenand archers. At the head of it rode a boy, whom from his dress and thedeference paid him, I immediately recognized as the Dauphin of France,so soon to be king. He was about twelve at the time, but he lookedyounger, being undersized. He wore a robe of crimson satin lined withblack velvet, and his black horse was richly caparisoned. Crossing thebridge the boy paused, for, slowly advancing from the oppositedirection, was another procession equally imposing, headed by a litter,silk-curtained and surmounted by a crown. And then I knew that I was towitness an event which was to go down in history, for I knew this wasthe expected ceremonial of the betrothal of the little Lady Margueriteof Hapsburg, daughter of the Archduke of Austria, to the Dauphin ofFrance.
"The young dauphin saluted the ladies and changed his robe for one ofcloth of gold. Then from the litter was lifted a tiny girl between threeand four years of age, the little archduchess, whose hair glistened likegold in the sunlight. A tall and elegantly-dressed lady accompanied herto the boy's side, and the prothonotary asked in a loud voice if Charlesof France would take Marguerite of Austria for his bride. The boyanswered 'Yes' in a loud, clear voice, and a similar question was put tothe little archduchess, who, after a whispered word from the lady at herside, uttered a faint 'Yes.'
"And when I rode on to Amboise I found the city gay with festoons ofbrilliantly-colored cloth, and in the market place there was a fountainwhich gave forth both white and red wine."
"The dear little princess!" said the innkeeper's wife. "Though she is tobe Queen of France, I pity her, thus to be betrothed without a word ofchoice in the matter."
"The good God has not divided happiness so unevenly as some mightsuppose," observed the friar, "for in some things the peasant womanenjoys more liberty than the queen."
"The dear little Lady Marguerite was taken from her own country and allher kin that she might grow up in a foreign court and be a true Frenchwoman," said one of the women. "And she was beautiful, did you say,Brother Sebastian?"
"I did not have a good view of her face, but I should say that she wasvery fair to look upon," he replied.
"Pretty she had a right to be," said Le Glorieux. "Her mother was asbeautiful as the morning, and her father, when I saw him, looked like aglorious knight descended from the clouds. He was mounted on a chestnuthorse; he was clad in silver armor and his head was bound by a circletof precious stones. His smile was so kind and his face so handsome thathe won all hearts."
"Look! That child is about to fall out of the window!" cried the friar,for the little one was gazing at the speaker with her soul in her eyes,and the better to see him, was sitting on the very edge of thewindow-sill in a way that indeed suggested a possible fall. Seeing alleyes turned upon her she drew herself back and clasped her hands abouther knees as before.
"And now," said the innkeeper, "I notice that a young gentleman of thecompany has a lute, and I am sure we should all enjoy a song." He lookedat Antoine, who, though silent, had been very much engaged with the goodthings set before him.
"You are right, mine host," said Le Glorieux. "My comrade sings in sucha way that I am sure the nightingales outside will cease to trill frompure envy."
Musicians, and indeed all people who are capable of entertaining others,have fits of diffidence at the most unexpected moments, and although hewas in the habit of singing for the ladies of the Burgundian court, whoknew far more about music than these people could possibly understand,it seemed to Antoine that if he could unseen escape by the door, and runaway into the woods, or sink through the floor, it would be the greatestboon that could happen to him. Not being able to efface himself in anyway, he resorted to a fib, and said that he would be most happy tooblige them, but that a string of his lute was broken, and that he hadno other with which to replace it.
Le Glorieux strode to the corner of the room and took up the lute wherethe boy had placed it before supper. It was an instrument resembling amodern mandolin with a crooked neck, as if it had once been strangled,and becoming convulsed in the effort to breathe, had remained petrifiedin that position.
The jester held the instrument out at arm's length, saying, "It isstrange, but even a lute can not remain disabled in the neighborhood ofthe good Saint Roch. Here are all the strings in a perfectly soundcondition, and fairly quivering with anxiety to be played on."
A fib, like a murder, will "out" sooner or later, and realizing thisfact, Antoine said nothing more, but striking a few chords began tosing, though in a quavering voice.
"See here, Antoine," said his friend, stopping him, "I have praised yourvoice and I am not going to have you sing like a frog that is choking todeath in a pond. Open your mouth and let your words out instead ofkeeping them prisoners behind your teeth."
The boy was very angry at being thus derided, and his voice rang loudand flute-like in an old chanson of Burgundy, to which his audiencelistened with great pleasure, the innkeeper's wife remarking at itsclose that it was one she often had sung in her childhood.
"Let him sing some more songs of Burgundy," said the child in thewindow, speaking for the first time since she had made the remark aboutthe hawk.
Antoine complied, and in the middle of the second song the company wassurprised by the entrance of a large woman clad in a loose robe and anightcap, who, without a word of apology, crossed the room to the windowand waving her arms with their wide, flowing sleeves, which in thisposition gave her the appearance of a large bird that is about to fly,poured out a torrent of words in a strange language, then, swooping uponthe little girl, swept her from the window and held her imprisoned inher wing-like arms.
She laid it on baby Mary's breast]
The child replied in the same language and in a voice of indignation,but the woman was about to carry her from the room, when the little onestruggled to the floor, and taking a piece of money from a small purseat her girdle, she crossed the floor and laid it on baby Mary's breast.Then turning with a brief "Good night" to the others, she followed hergrotesque attendant from the room.
"Now I wonder," said Le Glorieux, "if that woman is kidnapping thechild?"
"I think not," said the innkeeper. "That was the woman who came with herto the inn, though she did not look like herself in that garb."
"To come before a large company in her nightcap like that wasdisgraceful," said one of the women.
"She was too agitated to think of her appearance," said the friar. "Ithink she was very much annoyed at the little one for coming down herealone."
"As if we were ogres to swallow her!" cried the innkeeper's motherindignantly.
"She has given our little one a fine present," said the baby's mother,examining the coin by the rush light. "Husband, it is gold!"
"That child is not an ordinary person; I have said so all along," saidthe host, with conviction.
Then a lively discussion followed, some of the women, and indeed some ofthe men also, declaring that the authoritie
s should be notified and thematter investigated in order to find if the child were being carried offand away from her home in an unlawful manner.
"My friends," said Le Glorieux, "perhaps the advice of a fool is worthnothing, but such as it is you are welcome to it. I always have foundthat when in doubt as to what course to pursue, you will be convincedthat the best plan is to go ahead and attend strictly to your ownaffairs. That beautiful child knows just why she is here, and it is notagainst her will, for she had ample time to tell us her troubles and toask our aid if she cared to do so before that old bird of prey swoopeddown upon her. So let us go to bed and to sleep, for some of us, atleast this boy and myself, must be up bright and early and away beforethe dew is off the grass."
And so the guests departed to their several homes or to their rooms inthe inn, while the host blew out the lights, closed the lattice, andsecured the door. And the nightingales sang on undisturbed.