CHAPTER IV
DOWN THE RHINE TO BURGUNDY
Notwithstanding the idle, happy life we were leading, I was anxious tobegin our journey to Burgundy. Just what would--or could--happen when weshould reach that land of promise--perhaps I should say of no promise--Idid not know. I hoped that by some happy turn of fortune--perhapsthrough Twonette's help--Max might be brought to meet Mary of Burgundy.I had all faith in his ability to please her, or any woman, but whatadvantage he could gain by winning her regard I could not guess. Thelady's personal preference would cut no figure in the choosing of ahusband. Her father would do that for her, and she would be powerlessagainst the will of a man whose chief impulses were those of a mad bull.This arrogant duke, without so much as a formal withdrawal, had ignoredDuke Frederick's acceptance and had contracted his daughter's hand tothe Dauphin of France, who was a puny, weak-minded boy of fourteen.
Should Max and I go to Burgundy and say to Charles, "This is Maximilianof Styria, to whom you offered your daughter in marriage," his answermight be a sword thrust. Should the duke learn of our unbidden presencein his domain, his love for making enemies would probably bring us intotrouble. Therefore, though I ardently wished to begin the journey, I hadno real cause to hope for good results, though there were many reasonsto fear the outcome of our adventures.
One may well ask why I continued in a course so dangerous. My answer is:A man travels the road of his destiny. The Fates sometimes hunt out aman for their purposes and snatch him from his hiding-place in theby-ways, but they usually choose from the scenes of great events theirvictims or their favorites. The man who fears to be their victim isseldom chosen for their favorite. I should rather be their victim thanbe overlooked; and what I should have chosen for myself I desired forMax. I had no future save in him; I had been overlooked in the by-ways.
At the time of our journeying all Europe turned on a Burgundian pivot,and the Fates were busy in that land. It was the stage of the world, onwhich the strong, the great, and the enterprising of mankind wereplaying; and I hoped that Max, who was strong and enterprising, wouldfind his part in this Burgundian drama. I was willing to risksacrificing him, though he was dearer to me than the blood of my heart,if I might stand even a small chance to make him great.
At strange variance with my philosophy, I had faith in Max's luck. Itwas more than faith; it was a fixed, intuitive conviction that he wouldwin. For these reasons, all growing out of what I felt rather than whatI reasoned, we continued our dangerous and apparently useless journey.When a man feels himself led by an unseen hand, he should gladly follow.There is an intuition that is better than reason.
* * * * *
One bright morning in May we began our journey down the Rhine. My fearshad no place in Max's heart, and his self-confidence was to me aharbinger of good fortune. A man may do anything that he knows he cando; failure never disappoints him who expects it.
We left Basel by the west gate and took the road for Strasburg, leadingdown the west bank of the Rhine. That was not the most direct route toPeronne, but it was the safest because of the numerous river townswherein we might lie safely by night. The robber barons whom we had tofear along the river were at least not pilfering vagabonds, such as weshould meet across country. Against the open attack of a brave foe wefelt that we could make a good defence. Our fighting force consisted ofMax, myself, and two lusty squires. We had also a half-score of men wholed the sumpter mules.
Castleman had purchased two beautiful chargers in Basel, pretending thathe wished to take them to Peronne for sale. He asked Max to ride one andoffered the other for my use. I was sure that his only reason for buyingthe horses was his desire to present them to us, which he afterward did.Max named his charger "Night," because of its spotless coat of black.Yolanda rode a beautiful white mare which we re-christened "Day."Castleman bestrode an ambling Flemish bay, almost as fat as its masterand quite as good-natured, which, because of its slowness, Yolandadubbed "Last Week."
We travelled slowly down the Rhine, enjoying the scenery and filling ourhearts with the sunshine of the soft spring days. Our cautious merchantso arranged our lodging-places that we were never on the road afterdark. His system caused much delay, as we often rested a half-day in atown that we might be able to lodge there over night. In this deliberatemanner of proceeding, life was a sweet, lazy holiday, and our journeywas like a May outing. We were all very happy--almost ominously so.
After the explanation between Max and Yolanda on the hill at Basel shemade no effort to avoid him, and he certainly did not avoid her. Theyboth evidently rested on his remark that he would never again speakupon a certain subject. They fully understood each other's position.
Max knew that between him and the burgher maiden there could be nothought of marriage. She, it seemed, was equally aware of that fact. Allthat he had been taught to value in life--father, mother, family andposition, his father's subjects, who would one day be his, his father'sthrone, on which he would one day sit--stood between him and Yolanda.They stood between him and the achievement of any desire purely personalto himself and not conducive to the welfare of his state. He felt thathe did not belong to himself; that his own happiness was never to beconsidered. He belonged to his house, his people, and his ancestors.
Max had not only been brought up with that idea as the chief element inhis education, but he had also inherited it from two score generationsof men and women that had learned, believed, and taught the same lesson.We may by effort efface the marks of our environment, but those weinherit are bred in the bone. Yolanda was not for Max. He could notcontrol his heart; it took its inheritance of unbidden passion from athousand scores of generations which had lived and died and learnedtheir lesson centuries before the House of Hapsburg began; but he couldcontrol his lips and his acts.
With Max's growing love for Yolanda came a knightly reverence which wasthe very breath of the chivalry that he had sworn to uphold. This spiritof reverence the girl was quick to observe, and he lost nothing by it inher esteem. At times I could see that this reverential attitude of Maxalmost sobered her spirits; to do so completely would have been asimpossible as to dam the current of a mountain stream.
On the evening of our first day out of Basel we were merrily eating oursuppers in a village where we had halted for the night, when I remarkedthat I had met a man, while strolling near the river, who had said thatwar was imminent between Burgundy and Switzerland. My remark immediatelycaught Yolanda's sharp attention.
"Yes," said I, "we left Switzerland none too soon. This man tells me, onwhat authority I know not, that a herald will soon be sent by DukeCharles carrying defiance to the Swiss. What of value the duke expectsto obtain from barren Switzerland outside of Basel, I do not know.Fighting for fighting's sake is poor sport."
"Forbear your wise saws, Sir Karl, and tell me what the man said,"demanded Yolanda.
"He told me," I replied, "that he had heard the news at Metz, and thatit was supposed Duke Rene would muster his forces in Lorraine and turnthem against Burgundy in case of war with Switzerland."
"I predicted evil when Burgundy took Nancy from Lorraine," criedYolanda, excitedly. "The hollow conventions made with Lorraine after thecapture of that city were but the promises of a man under duress. Theonly ties that will bind a narrow man are those of immediateself-interest. There can be no lasting treaty between France andBurgundy so long as King Louis covets Flanders and is able to bribe ourneighbors. These conventions between Burgundy, Lorraine, Bourbon, andSt. Pol will hold only so long as Burgundy does not need them."
"That is surely true, Fraeulein," I said.
"Yes," she continued, "and should Burgundy suffer any great misfortuneor be crippled for an hour, those small states would be upon his backlike a pack of wolves, and he would be ruined. Lorraine, Bourbon, andSt. Pol do not see that Burgundy alone stands between them and thegreedy maw of France. Should King Louis survive my--my Lord of Burgundyfive years, these dukes and counts will lose their feudal rights an
dbecome servile vassals of France, not in name, as now they are, but insorry fact."
I was so astonished at this tempestuous outburst from an unexpectedquarter, and was so surprised at discovering an intimate knowledge ofgreat affairs in a simple burgher maid, that I dropped the piece of meatI held in my fingers and stared in wonder across the table at Yolanda. Ihad known from the first hour of meeting her that the girl's mind wasmarvellously keen; but that a maid of seventeen or eighteen, in herposition, should have so firm a grasp of international affairs andshould possess so clear a conception of the troublous situation inwestern Europe, astounded me.
In eastern Europe, where we were not blinded by neighborly hatred andlocal jealousies, the truth of Yolanda's statement had long beenapparent. We carried our prophecy further and predicted that theheadlong passions of Charles the Rash would soon result in his death oroverthrow.
My point in dragging in this heavy load of political lore is this: Incase of the death of Charles of Burgundy, the future of western Europewould depend on the brains and the bravery of the man who should marrythe Princess Mary. I felt that Max was chosen of God for that destiny.Should he succeed in defending Burgundy against France, he would becomethe most powerful man in Europe. No event save death could keep him fromachieving the imperial crown.
If the existing treaty of marriage between Mary and the Dauphin ofFrance were carried out, and if the Dauphin as king should possessone-half the wisdom of his father, Louis, all western Europe would soonbe France. If this treaty were to fail and the Princess Mary espouse aman capable of defending her territory, Burgundy would still remain awall of protection to the smaller states of the Rhine.
A long silence followed Yolanda's outburst, but her words had soastonished me that my supper for the evening was finished. Castlemanplied his knife industriously; Yolanda nibbled at a piece of meatbetween her dainty fingers, and Twonette gazed serenely out of theopen window.
Yolanda's words and Castleman's constraint filled me with wonder. Therewas to me a mystery about this little beauty that had not been touchedon by my friend from Peronne. I hoped to gain information on the pointby inducing Yolanda to talk. She was willing enough.
"Fraeulein," I said, "I quite agree with you. It is a matter of surpriseto me that these noblemen you mention do not see the truth as youstate it."
"They are fools, Sir Karl, sodden fools," exclaimed Yolanda. "You couldbuy their souls for a sou. King Louis buys them with an empty promiseof one."
"Why does not Duke Charles buy them?" I asked. "'Tis said he hasenormous quantities of ready gold in Luxembourg Castle."
"Because, Sir Karl," she responded almost savagely, "bribery is theweapon of a coward. The Duke of Burgundy uses his money to paysoldiers."
"But, Fraeulein," I answered, "the duke has for years--ever since beforehis father's death--been wasting his money, sacrificing his soldiers,and despoiling his land by wars, prosecuted to no good end. He hasconquered large territory, but he has paid for it with the blood of hispeople. Neither they nor he are the better because of those accessions,and the duke has made enemies who will one day surely wrest them fromhim. A brave prince should not fear to be called a coward because of anact that will bring peace and happiness to his subjects and save theirlives, their liberties, and their estates. That great end will ennobleany means. The subjects of Burgundy are frugal and peace-loving. Theyshould be protected from the cruel cost of useless war. I would notcriticise Duke Charles, whose bravery is beyond compare, but for thesake of his people I could wish that his boldness were tempered withcaution. Policy, not blows, appears to me the only way out of hispresent and imminent danger."
"Perhaps you are right, Sir Karl," answered Yolanda, "but I advise youto keep your views to yourself when you reach Burgundy. Should they cometo the duke's ears, you might lose yours."
"Indeed, Fraeulein, your warning is unnecessary," I responded laughingly."I already know the disposition of the duke toward those who disagreewith him. His ungovernable passions will surely lead him to a terribleend. Bravery, if wise, is one of the noblest attributes of men. Thelack of wisdom makes it the most dangerous. Duke Charles ought to temperhis courage with love for his people. He should fight, when he must,with wise bravery. If he should die, God pity the poor people ofBurgundy unless their princess choose a husband both wise and brave."
"But she will not be allowed to choose," cried Yolanda, passionately."Her freedom is less than that of any serf. She is bound hand and footby the chains of her birth. She is more to be pitied than the poorestmaiden in Burgundy. The saddest of all captives is she who is chained toa throne."
"That surely is the bitterest draught fate offers to mortal man," sighedMax.
"Yes," whispered Yolanda, huskily. "One cannot rebel; one may not evenkill one's self when one is condemned to live. One can do nothing butendure and wait in haunting fear and, in rare moments, hope against amillion chances."
Evidently she meant us to know that she sorrowed for Max's martyrdom,though how she had learned of his true station in life I couldnot guess.
"It is strange," said I to Castleman, when Yolanda and Twonette had leftus, "that Fraeulein Yolanda, who seems to be all laughter andthoughtlessness, should be so well informed upon the affairs of princesand princesses, and should take this public matter so much to heart."
"Yes, she is a strange, unfortunate girl," answered Castleman, "andtruly loves her native land. She would, I believe, be another Joan ofArc, had she the opportunity. She and her father do not at all agree. Hewholly fails to comprehend her."
"Is her father your brother?" I asked. I felt a sense of impertinence inputting the question, but my curiosity was irresistible.
"Yes," answered Castleman, hesitatingly; then, as if hurrying from thesubject, he continued, "Her mother is dead, and the girl lives chieflyunder my roof."
I wanted to ask other questions concerning Yolanda, but I kept silent. Ihad begun to suspect that she was not what she passed for--a burghergirl; but Castleman was a straightforward, truthful man, and his wordssatisfied me. I had, at any rate, to be content with them, sinceYolanda's affairs were none of mine. Had I not been sure that Max'straining and inheritance gave him a shield against her darts, she andher affairs would have given me deep concern. At that time I had all thematch-making impulses of an old woman, and was determined that no womanshould step between Max and the far-off, almost impossible Princessof Burgundy.
When we resumed our journey the next morning Yolanda was demure, grave,and serious; but the bright sun soon had its way with her, and within ahalf-hour after leaving the village she was riding beside Max, laughing,singing, and flashing her eyes upon him with a lustre that dimmed thesun--at least, so Max thought, and probably he was right. That eveningMax told me much of Yolanda's conversation.
The road we were travelling clung to the Rhine for several leagues. Inmany places it was cut from the bank at the water's edge. At others itran along the brink of beetling precipices. At one of these Max guidedhis horse close to the brink, and, leaning over in his saddle, lookeddown the dizzy heights to the river below.
"Please do not ride so near the brink, Sir Max," pleaded Yolanda. "Itfrightens me."
Max had little of the braggadocio spirit about him, but no rightlyconstituted young man is entirely devoid of the desire to "show off" inthe presence of timid and interesting ladies. Without that spirit of"show-off," what would induce our knights to meet in glorioustournaments? Without it, what would our chivalry amount to? Without it,why should a peacock spread its tail? I do not belittle it, since fromthis spirit of "show-off" arises one great good--respect for the opinionof our fellow-man. So Max, with a dash of "show-off" in his disposition,laughed at Yolanda's fears and answered that he was in no danger.
"It is very brave in you, Sir Max, to go so near the brink," saidYolanda, ironically, "but do you remember what Sir Karl said concerning'wise bravery'? There can be no need for your bravery, and therefore nowisdom in it. Were there good reason why you should go near the brink
, Ishould despise you if you refused; but there is no reason and, since itfrightens me, I wish you would remain in the road."
"Gladly I will," answered Max, reining his horse beside her.
"Do you know," said Yolanda, with as much seriousness as she couldeasily command, "that your friend, Sir Karl, is a philosopher? Hisphrase, 'wise bravery,' clings to me. I certainly wish the Duke ofBurgundy would learn it and take it to heart."
"I have heard many conflicting stories concerning this Duke Charles,"said Max. "Some persons say he is all that is brave and noble; othersdeclare that he is fierce, passionate, and bad. I wonder which I shallfind him to be?"
"Do you expect to take service with him?" asked Yolanda, half sadly. Atthe mention of the duke's name all smiles and dimples fledincontinently.
"No," answered Max, "I think I shall not take service with the duke. Intruth, I don't know what I shall do. For what purpose I am going toBurgundy I am sure I cannot say."
A short silence ensued, which was broken by Yolanda, speaking archly:--
"Perhaps you are going to Burgundy or to France to win the lady who gaveyou the ring?" Max was surprised, and flushed as he answered:--
"That would be an impossible thought, Fraeulein. If you but knew who thelady is, you would understand that such a hope on my part were aphantasy. But I have no such hope or wish. I do not now want to win thelady of the ring."
"No, no, Sir Max," said Yolanda, protestingly, "you must not baselydesert this lady-love whom you have never seen. If trouble should cometo her, whoever she is, you must hasten to her rescue and carry heraway. The best opportunity to rob, you know, comes in the midst of amelee. Take her, Sir Max. I wish you success."
"Do you really wish me success, Fraeulein?" asked Max, looking straightahead. He was not at all flattered by her good wishes concerning thelady of the ring.
"Indeed I do," responded the girl, joyously; "I will pray to the Virginand ask her to help you to win this fair lady who gave you the ring."
"I thank you for your good wishes," returned Max, "though I could easilybe satisfied with less enthusiasm on the subject."
"Indeed? Why, may I ask?"
"Because, Fraeulein--because I had hoped--" Max ceased speaking, and,leaning forward, smoothed his horse's mane.
Yolanda waited for a moment and then, turning her face toward Max,asked:--
"You had hoped for what, Sir Max?"
"I had hoped for nothing, Fraeulein," he answered. "I am satisfied asmatters now stand between us. Your words at supper last evening rang inmy ears all night, 'Chained to a throne; chained to a throne.' I knewyou referred to my unhappy lot when you spoke, though how you guessedthe truth concerning my station I do not know."
A surprised little smile spread over her face, but he did not see it. Hewas still smoothing his horse's mane.
"You cannot know the terrible truth of your words," continued Max. "Iwill tell you a part of my secret, Fraeulein. All my life I have been cutoff--chained to a throne--from the fellowship of men and the love offriends. Karl is the only friend I have ever known save my mother untilI met you and your good people. Only the good God can know how I havelonged and hungered since childhood for friendship; even forcompanionship. I did not know what I yearned for until since my arrivalat Basel. Truly it is not good for man to be alone, even though he beupon a throne. I am not upon a throne, Fraeulein, but I am near one--asmall, barren throne, whose greatest attribute is its ancestry. My homeis a sad, lonely place--how lonely even you, who have guessed soshrewdly and who speak so eloquently, cannot know. You should thank Godfor your lowly birth and your lowly friends."
"I do," the girl answered, with a queer, half-sad, half-amusedexpression upon her face which Max could not interpret.
"But we cannot break the chains that have been welded a thousandyears--that have grown stronger and tighter with each generation," saidMax. "You truthfully said, 'One may only endure.'"
"I also said that at rare moments one may hope," she answered, withdrooping head.
"Not I, Fraeulein. I may not even hope. I am doomed," answered Max.
"No, no, Sir Max," responded the drooping head.
After a prolonged silence Max said, "I am sure the secret of my stationis safe with you."
"You need not doubt, Sir Max," she responded. "You cannot know how safeit is." She turned brightly upon him and continued, "Let me invoke myspirits, Sir Max." She raised her eyes, saint-fashion, toward heaven,and spoke under her breath: "I hear the word 'hope,' Sir Max, 'hope.' Itis very faint, but better faint than not at all."
"I tell you there is no hope for me, Fraeulein," responded Max,desperately. "It is cruel in you to say there is. It is doubly cruel tospeak jestingly."
"I speak earnestly," said Yolanda. "There is hope. If you win the ladywho gave you the ring, you will be happy. I do not jest."
"You do. You mock me," cried Max. "I tell you, Yolanda, there is in allthe world no woman for me save--save one upon whom I may not think."Yolanda's face grew radiant, though tears moistened her eyes. "Eventhough it were possible for me to defy my parents, to turn my faceagainst my country, my people, and the sacred traditions of my house, byasking her to share my life, there could be only wretchedness ahead forher, and therefore unhappiness for me. The dove and the eagle may notmate. Consider the fate of sweet Agnes Bernauer, who married Duke Albertand perished in the Danube. I tell you, Fraeulein, I am hopeless. When Ireturn to my people, I shall do so knowing that life thereafter will besomething to endure, not a blessing to thank God for."
"No, no, Sir Max," murmured the girl, "you do not know."
Max turned upon her almost angrily:--
"A man knows when he lives; a man knows when he is dying, and a man, ifhe be worthy of the name, knows when he loves a woman. I am not surethat the sun shines, Fraeulein, than I am that I shall not forget thiswoman nor cease to sorrow for her all the days of my life."
"You must not speak such words to me, Sir Max," said Yolanda,reprovingly. "I, too, must live and be happy if--if I can."
She turned her face away from Max and, touching her horse with her whip,passed a few feet ahead of him. If there were tears in her eyes, she didnot wish Max to see them. After several minutes of silence he spurredhis horse to her side.
"I did not intend to speak, Fraeulein. I once said I would never speakagain. I should not have spoken now, though I have told you only whatyou already know. I ask no favor in return, not even a touch fromyour hand."
"You shall have that at least, Sir Max," she answered, impulsivelyreining her horse close to Max and placing her hand in his.
"Still, you wish me to win the lady who sent me the ring?" asked Max.
"Yes," returned Yolanda, softly. "It will mean your happiness andmine--" Suddenly checking herself, she explained: "I shall be happy ifyou are. A man cannot know how happy a woman may be for another's sake."
I felt no desire to reprove Max when he told me of his day's adventurewith Yolanda, since I could in no way remedy the evil. In fact, Max wasgrowing out of my jurisdiction. He had listened to my lectures andadvice since childhood and had taken them kindly, because my authoritygrew out of my love for him and his love for me. He was a boy when weleft Styria, but he was a man when we were journeying down the Rhine.Though the confidential relations between us had grown closer, my advicewas gradually taking the form of consultation. I did not seek hisconfidences, and he gave them more freely, if that were possible, thanever before. I did not offer my advice so readily, but he sought it morefrequently. Max told me the sorrowful little story of the day, and I didnot comment on it. I simply led him in another direction.
"Fraeulein Yolanda's words have given me food for thought," I said. "Solong as Duke Charles lives, there can be no union between Burgundy andHapsburg; but at the pace he is travelling he will surely receive his_coup de grace_ before long, and I hope you will meet and know theprincess before the tragedy occurs. Then declare yourself and back yourclaim with the duke's proposal, which has never been withdrawn. Tha
t thepeople of Burgundy hate France and this French marriage there can be nodoubt. They are fools for so doing, but we may easily profit by theirlack of wisdom. In the event of the duke's death the inclinations of theprincess will be half the battle. So long as he lives they are no partof it. If, by the help of Twonette, you should be so fortunate as tomeet the princess, our dream may be realized, and our house may becomethe greatest in Europe."
"I suppose you are right, Karl," answered Max. "You are always right;but I have no heart in this matter, and I hope nothing will come of it.I have never known you to be so cold-blooded as in this affair."
"If you are to be hot-blooded, or even warm-blooded, you must turn yourback on your house and cast from you the duties and privileges of yourbirth," I observed.
"You are right," he answered irritably. "But it will be difficult for meto please one woman while thinking of another. Ah, Karl, I am growingtired of this Burgundian dream. Dream? It is almost a nightmare."
Max's words did not alarm me; he was "chained to a throne." He would notfail me if the hour of good fortune should come.
"Your thoughts of another woman will not stand in your way," I said."Experience is more necessary in dealing with women than in any other oflife's affairs, and this episode with Yolanda is what you need toprepare you for--for what I pray you may have to do."
"Karl, please do not talk of this--this--my feeling for Yolanda as anepisode," he said, speaking almost angrily. "It is a part of my life,and will be my sorrow as long as I live."
The boy's anger warned me that if I would lead him, I must do it gently.
"I believe, Max, you speak truly," I said; "but it will not be anunmixed evil. Good will come of it, since the image of a pure womaninjures no man's heart. It keeps him in the narrow way and guides hishand for righteousness."