CHAPTER XV
A NEW DISCOVERY
The dim rays of a candle glimmered within a cubical space, whereof thesides consisted of four stone walls, and a ceiling and floor of thesame substantial material. For furnishings were provided athree-legged stool, a bundle of straw and--the tallow dip. One of thewalls was pierced by a window, placed almost beyond the range ofvision; the outlook limited by day to a bit of blue sky or a patch ofverdant field, with the depressing suggestion of a barrier to thisouter world, three feet in thickness, massively built of stone andmortar, hardened through the centuries. At night these pictures fadedand the Egyptian darkness within became partly dispelled through thebrave efforts of the small wick; or when this half-light failed, a farstar without, struggling in the depths of the palpable obscure,appeared the sole relief.
But now the few inches of candle had only begun to eke out its briefperiod of transition and the solitary occupant of the cell could forsome time find such poor solace as lay in the companionship of the tinyyellow flame. With his arms behind him, the duke's fool moved as besthe might to and fro within the narrow confines of his jail; the eventswhich had led to his incarceration were so recent he had hardly yetbrought himself to realize their full significance. Neither Francis'anger nor the free baron's covert satisfaction during the scenefollowing their abrupt appearance in the bower of roses had greatlyweighed upon him; but not so the attitude of the princess.
How vividly all the details stood out in his brain! The suddentransitions of her manner; her seeming interest in his passionatewords; her eyes, friendly, tender, as he had once known them; thenportentous silence, frozen disdain. What latent energy in the freebaron's look had invested her words with his spirit? Had the adductionof his mind compelled hers to his bidding, or had she but spoken fromherself? Into the marble-like pallor of her face a faint flush hadseemed to insinuate itself, but the words had dropped easily from herlips: "Are all the fools of your country so presumptuous, my Lord?"
Above the other distinctive features of that tragic night, to the_plaisant_ this question had reiterated itself persistently in thesolitude of his cell. True, he had forgotten he was only a jester; buthad it not been the memory of her soft glances that had hurried him onto the avowal? She had no fault to be condoned; the fool was the soleculprit. From her height, could she not have spared him the scorn andcontempt of her question? Over and over, through the long hours he hadasked himself that, and, as he brooded, the idealization with which hehad adorned her fell like an enshrouding drapery to the dust; of thevestment of fancy nothing but tatters remained.
A voice without, harsh, abrupt, broke in upon the jester's thoughts.The prisoner started, listened intently, a gleam of fierce satisfactionmomentarily creeping into his eyes. If love was dead, a less exaltedfeeling still remained.
"How does the fool take his imprisonment?" asked the arrogant voice.
"Quietly, my Lord," was the jailer's reply.
"He is inclined to talk over much?"
"Not at all," answered the man.
A brief command followed; a key was inserted in the lock, and, with acreaking of bolts and groaning of hinges, the warder swung back theiron barrier. Upon the threshold stood the commanding figure of thefree baron. A moment he remained thus, and then, with an authoritativegesture to the man, stepped inside. The turnkey withdrew to a discreetdistance, where he remained within call, yet beyond the range ofordinary conversation. Immovably the king's guest gazed upon thejester, who, unabashed, calmly endured the scrutiny.
"Well, fool," began the free baron, bluntly, "how like you yourquarters? You fought me well; in truth very well. But you laboredunder a disadvantage, for one thing is certain: a jester in love isdoubly--a fool."
"Is that what you have come to say?" asked the plaisant, his brightglance fastened on the other's confident face.
"I came--to return the visit you once made me," easily retorted themaster of Hochfels. "By this time you have probably learned I am anopponent to be feared."
"As one fears the assassin's knife, or a treacherous onslaught," saidthe fool.
"Did I not say, when you left that night, the truce was over?" returnedthe king's guest, frowning.
"True," was the ironical answer. "Forewarned; forearmed. And thatsort of warfare was to be expected from the bastard of Pfalz-Urfeld."
"Well," unreservedly replied the free baron, who for reasons of his ownchose not to challenge the affront, "in those two instances you werenot worsted. And as for the trooper who attacked you--I know notwhether your lance or the doctor's lancet is responsible for his takingoff. But you met him with true attaint. You would have made a goodsoldier. It is to be regretted you did not place your fortune withmine--but it is too late now."
"Yes," answered the _plaisant_, "it is too late."
Louis of Hochfels gave him a sharp look. "You cling yet to someforlorn hope?"
To the fool came the vision of a brother jester speeding southward,ever southward. The free baron smiled.
"Caillette, perhaps?" he suggested. For a moment he enjoyed histriumph, watching the expression of the fool's countenance, whereon hefancied he read dismay and astonishment.
"You know then?" said the _plaisant_ finally.
"That you sent him to the emperor? Yes."
In the fool's countenance, or his manner, the king's guest soughtconfirmation of the dying trooper's words. Also, was he fencing forsuch additional information as he might glean, and for this purpose hadhe come. Had the emperor really gone to Spain? The soldier'sassurance had been so faint, sometimes the free baron wondered if hehad heard aright, or if he had correctly interpreted the meager message.
"And you--of course--detained Caillette?" remarked the prisoner, withan effort at indifference, his heart beating violently the while.
"No," slowly returned the other. "He got away."
Into his eyes the fool gazed closely, as if to read and test thisunexpected statement.
"Got away!" he repeated. "How, since you knew?"
"Because I learned too late," quietly replied the free baron. "He wasfour-and-twenty hours gone when I found out. Too great a start to beovercome."
"Why should you tell me this--unless it is a lie?" coolly asked thejester.
"A lie!" exclaimed the visitor, frowning.
"Yes, like your very presence in Francis' court," added the fool,fearlessly.
In the silence ensuing the passion slowly faded from the countenance ofthe king's guest. He remembered he had not yet ascertained what hewished to know.
"Such recriminations from you remind me of a bird beating its wingsagainst the bars of its cage," at length came the unruffled response."Why should I lie? There is no need for it. You sent Caillette; he ison his way now, for all of me. For"--leading to the thread of what hesought--"why should I have stopped him? He embarked on a hopelesschase. How can he reach Austria and the emperor in time to prevent themarriage?"
The jester's swift questioning glance was not lost upon the speaker,who, after a pause, continued. "Had I known, I am not sure I wouldhave prevented his departure. What better way to dispose of him thanto let him go on a mad-cap journey? Besides, you must have forgottenabout the passes. How could you expect him to get by my sentinels? Itwill attract less attention to have him stopped there than here."
All this, spoken brusquely, was accompanied by frank, insolent lookswhich beneath their seeming openness concealed an intentness of purposeand a shrewd penetration. Only the first abrupt change in the fool'slook, a slight one though it was, betrayed the jester to his caller.In that swiftly passing gleam, as the free baron spoke of Austria, andnot of Spain, the other read full confirmation of what he desired toknow.
"He will do his best," commented the jester, carelessly.
"And man can do no more," retorted the king's guest. "Many a battlehas been thus bravely lost."
He had hoped to provoke from the _plaisant_ some further expression ofself-content in his plans for th
e future, but the other had becomeguarded.
What if he offered the fool clemency? asked the princess' betrothed ofhimself. If the jester had confidence in the future he would naturallyrather remain in the narrow confines of his dark chamber than considerproposals from one whom he believed he would yet overcome. The freebaron began to enjoy this strategic duplicity of language; theenvironing dangers lent zest to equivocation; the seduction of findinghimself more potent than forces antagonistic became intoxicating to hisegotism.
"Why," he said, patronizingly, surveying the slender figure of thefool, "a good man should die by the sword rather than go to thescaffold. What if I were to overlook Caillette and the rest? He isharmless,"--more shrewdly; "let him go. As for the princess--well,you're young; in the heyday for such nonsense. I have never yetquarreled seriously with man for woman's sake. There are many gravercauses for contention--a purse, or a few acres of land; right royalwarfare. If I get the king to forgive you, and the princess tooverlook your offense, will you well and truthfully serve me?"
"Never!" answered the fool, promptly.
"He is sure the message will reach Charles in Spain," mentallyconcluded the king's guest. "Yet," he continued aloud in a tone ofmockery, "you did not hesitate to betray your master yourself. Why,then, will you not betray him to me?"
"To him I will answer, not to you," returned the jester, calmly.
A contemptuous smile crossed the free baron's face.
"And tell him how you dared look up to his mistress? That you soughtto save her from another, while you yourself poured your own burningtale into her ear? Two things I most admire in nature," went on thefree baron, with emphasis. "A dare-devil who stops not for man orSatan, and--an honest man. You take but a compromising middle course;and will hang, a hybrid, from some convenient limb."
"But not without first knowing that you, too, in all likelihood, willadorn an equally suitable branch, my Lord of the thieves' rookery,"said the jester, smiling.
Louis of Hochfels responded with an ugly look. His bloodshot eyes tookfire beneath the provocation.
"Fool, you expect your duke will intervene!" he exclaimed. "Not whenhe has been told all by the king, or the princess," he sneered. "Doyou think she cares? You, a motley fool; a theme for jest between us."
"But when she learns about you?" retorted the plaisant, significantly.
"She will e'en be mistress of my castle."
"Castle?" laughed the Jester. "A robber's aery! a footpad's retreat!A rifler of the roads become a great lord? You of royal blood! Thenwas your father a king of thieves!"
The free baron's face worked fearfully; the kingly part of him had beena matter of fanatical pride; through it did he believe he was destinedto power and honors. But before the cutting irony of the _plaisant_,that which is heaven-born--self-control--dropped from him; the mad,brutal rage of the peasant surged in his veins.
Infuriate his hand sought his sword, but before he could draw it thefool, anticipating his purpose, had rushed upon him with suchimpetuosity and suddenness that the king's guest, in spite of his bulkand strength, was thrust against the wall. Like a grip of iron, thejester's fingers were buried in his opponent's throat. For one soyouthful and slender in build, his power was remarkable, and, strive ashe might, the princess' betrothed could not shake him off. Althoughhis arms pressed with crushing force about the figure of the fool, thehand at his throat never relaxed. He endeavored to thrust the_plaisant_ from him, but, like a tiger, the jester clung; to and frothey swayed; to the free baron, suffocated by that gauntlet of steel,the room was already going around; black spots danced before his eyes.He strove to reach for the dagger that hung from his girdle, but it washeld between them. Perhaps the muscles of the king's guest had beenweakened by the excesses of Francis' court, yet was he still a mightytower of strength, and, mad with rage, by a last supreme effort hefinally managed to tear himself loose, hurling the fool violently fromhim into the arms of the jailer, who, attracted by the sound of thestruggle, at that moment rushed into the cell. This keeper, himself aburly, herculean soldier, promptly closed with the prisoner.
Breathless, exhausted, the free baron marked the conflict nowtransferred to the turnkey and the jester. The former held the fool ata decided disadvantage, as he had sprung upon the back of the jesterand was also unweakened by previous efforts. But still the foolcontended fiercely, striving to turn so as to grapple with hisassailant, and wonderingly the free baron for a moment watched thatexhibition of virility and endurance. During the wrestling thejester's doublet had been torn open and suddenly the gaze of the king'sguest fell, as if fascinated, upon an object which hung from his neck.
Bending forward, he scrutinized more closely that which had attractedhis attention and then started back. Harshly he laughed, as though anew train of thought had suddenly assailed him, and looked earnestlyinto the now pale face of the nearly helpless fool.
"Why," he cried, "here's a different complication!"
And stooping suddenly, he grasped the stool from the floor and broughtit down with crushing force upon the _plaisant's_ head. A cowardly,brutal blow; and at once the prisoner's grasp relaxed, and he laymotionless in the arms of the warder, who placed him on the straw.
"I think the knave's dead, my Lord," remarked the man, panting from hisexertion.
"That makes the comedy only the stronger," replied the free baroncurtly, as he knelt by the side of the prostrate figure and thrust hishand under the torn doublet. Having procured possession of the objectwhich chance had revealed to him, he arose and, without further word,left the cell.