Yolanda: Maid of Burgundy Read online

  CHAPTER II

  KNIGHTS-ERRANT

  The good mother had made a bundle for her son that would have brought asmile to my lips had it not brought tears to my eyes. There were herhomely balsams to cure Max's ailments; true, he had never been ill, buthe might be. There was a pillow of down for his head, and a lawnkerchief to keep the wind from his delicate throat. Last, but by nomeans least, was the dear old mother's greatest treasure, a tooth of St.Martin, which she firmly believed would keep her son's heart pure andfree from sin. Of that amulet Max did not stand in need.

  We followed the Save for many leagues, and left its beautiful banks onlyto journey toward Vienna. At that city I drew my slender stock of goldfrom the merchant that had been keeping it for me, and bought abeautiful chain coat for Max. He already had a good, though plain, suitof steel plate which his father had given him when he received theaccolade. I owned a good plate armor and the most perfect chain coat Ihave ever seen. I took it from a Saracen lord one day in battle, andgave him his own life in payment. Max and I each bore a long sword, ashort sword, and a mace. We carried no lance. That weapon is burdensome,and we could get one at any place along our journey.

  I was proud of Max the morning we rode out of Vienna, trueknights-errant, with the greatest princess in Europe as our objectiveprize. Truly, we were in no wise modest; but the God of heaven, the godof Luck, and the god of Love all favor the man that is bold enough toattempt the impossible.

  My stock of gold might, with frugality, last us three months, but afterthat we should surely have to make our own way or starve. We hoped thatMax would be successful in filling our purses with prize money andransoms, should we fall in with a tournament now and then; but, lackingthat good fortune, we expected to engage ourselves as escorts tomerchant caravans. By this kind of employment we hoped to be housed andfed upon our travels and to receive at each journey's end a good roundsum of gold for our services. But we might find neither tournament normerchant caravan. Then there would be trouble and hardship for us, andperhaps, at times, an aching void under our belts. I had oftensuffered the like.

  Ours, you see, was not to be a flower-strewn journey of tinselled princeto embowered princess. Before our return to Styria, Max would probablyreceive what he needed to make a man of him--hard knocks and roughblows in the real battle of life. Above all, he would learn to know thepeople of whom this great world is composed, and would return toHapsburg Castle full of all sorts of noxious heresies, to theeverlasting horror of the duke and the duchess. They probably wouldnever forgive me for making a real live man of their son, but I shouldhave my reward in Max.

  To Max, of course, the future was rosy-hued. Caravans were waiting forour protection, and princes were preparing tournaments for our specialbehoof. _We_ want for food to eat or place to lay our heads? Absurd! Ourpurses would soon be so heavy they would burden us; we should soon needsquires to carry them. If it were not for our desire to remainincognito, we might presently collect a retinue and travel with heraldand banner. But at the end of all was sweet Mary of Burgundy waiting tobe carried off by Maximilian, Count of Hapsburg.

  Just what the boy expected to do in Burgundy, I did not know. For thelady's wealth I believe he did not care a straw--he wanted herself. Hehoped that Charles, for his own peace, would not be too uncivil andwould not force a desperate person to take extreme measures; but shouldthis rash duke be blind to his own interests--well, let him beware! Someone _might_ carry off his daughter right from under the ducal nose. Thenlet the Burgundian follow at his peril. Castle Hapsburg would open hiseyes. He would learn what an impregnable castle really is. If DukeCharles thought he could bring his soft-footed Walloons, used only tothe mud roads of Burgundy, up the stony path to the hawk's crag, why,let him try! Harmless boasting is a boy's vent. Max did not really meanto boast, he was only wishing; and to a flushed, enthusiastic soul, thewish of to-day is apt to look like the fact of to-morrow.

  We hoped to find a caravan ready to leave Linz, but we weredisappointed, so we journeyed by the Danube to the mouth of the Inn, upwhich we went to Muhldorf. There we found a small caravan bound forMunich on the Iser. From Munich we travelled with a caravan to Augsburg,and thence to Ulm, where we were overjoyed to meet once more our oldfriend, the Danube. Max snatched up a handful of water, kissed it, andtossed it back to the river, saying:--"Sweet water, carry my kiss to theriver Save; there give it to a nymph that you will find waiting, andtell her to take it to my dear old mother in far-off Styria."

  Do not think that we met with no hard fortune in our journeying. My goldwas exhausted before we reached Muhldorf, and we often travelled hungry,meeting with many lowly adventures. Max at first resented thefamiliarity of strangers, but hunger is one of the factors inman-building, and the scales soon began to fall from his eyes. Dignityis a good thing to stand on, but a poor thing to travel with, and Maxsoon found it the most cumbersome piece of luggage a knight-errantcould carry.

  Among our misfortunes was the loss of the bundle prepared by theduchess, and with it, alas! St. Martin's tooth. Max was so deeplytroubled by the loss of the tooth that I could not help laughing.

  "Karl, I am surprised that you laugh at the loss of my mother's sacredrelic," said Max, sorrowfully.

  I continued to laugh, and said: "We may get another tooth from the firstbarber we meet. It will answer all the purposes of the one youhave lost."

  "Truly, Karl?"

  "Truly," I answered. "The tooth was a humbug."

  "I have long thought as much," said Max, "but I valued it because mymother loved it."

  "A good reason, Max," I replied, and the tooth was never afterwardmentioned.

  From Ulm we guarded a caravan to Cannstadt. From that city we hoped togo to Strasburg, and thence through Lorraine to Burgundy, but we foundno caravan bound in that direction. Our sojourn at Cannstadt exhaustedthe money we got for our journeys from Augsburg and Ulm, and we werecompelled, much against our will, to accept an offer of service with oneMaster Franz, a silk merchant of Basel, who was about to journeyhomeward. His caravan would pass through the Black Forest; perhaps themost dangerous country in Europe for travellers.

  Knowing the perils ahead of us, I engaged two stout men-at-arms, andlate in February we started for Basel as bodyguard to good Master Franz.Think of the heir of Hapsburg marching in the train of a Swiss merchant!Max dared not think of it; he was utterly humiliated!

  Our first good fortune at Muhldorf he looked on as the deepestdegradation a man might endure, but he could not starve, and he wouldnot beg. Not once did he even think of returning to Styria, and, intruth, he could not have done so had he wished; our bridges were burnedbehind us; our money was spent.

  By the time we had finished half our journey to Basel, Max liked thelife we were leading, and learned to love personal liberty, of which hehad known so little. Now he could actually do what he wished. He couldeven slap a man on the back and call him "comrade." Of course, if theprocess were reversed,--if any one slapped Max on the back,--well,dignity is tender and not to be slapped. On several occasions Max gothimself into trouble by resenting familiarities, and his difficulties attimes were ludicrous. Once a fist fight occurred. The heir of Hapsburgwas actually compelled to fight with his fists. He thrashed the poorfellow most terribly, and I believe would have killed him had not Istayed his hand. Another time a pretty girl at Augsburg became familiarwith him, and Max checked her peremptorily. When he grew angry, shelaughed, and saucily held up her lips for a kiss. Max looked at me inhalf-amused wonder.

  "Take it, Max; there is no harm in it," I suggested.

  Max found it so, and immediately wanted more, but the girl said too manywould not be good for him. She promised others later on, if he werevery, very good. Thus Max was conquered by a kiss at the wayside.

  The girl was very pretty, Max was very good, and she helped mewonderfully in reducing his superfluous dignity. Her name was Gertrude,and we spoke of her afterward as "Gertrude the Conqueror." She was amost enticing little individual, and Max learned that perso
ns of lowdegree really may be interesting. That was his first great lesson. I hadsome trouble after leaving Augsburg to keep him from taking too manylessons of the same sort.

  Our contract with Franz provided that we should receive no compensationuntil after his merchandise had safely reached Basel, but then ourremuneration was to be large. Max had no doubt as to the safe arrival ofthe caravan at Basel, and he rejoiced at the prospect. I tried to reducethe rosy hue of his dreams, but failed. I suggested that we might havefighting ahead of us harder than any we had known, though we had givenand taken some rough knocks on two of our expeditions. Max laughed andlonged for the fray; he was beginning to live. The fray came quicklyenough after we reached the Black Forest, and the fight was sufficientlywarm to suit even enthusiastic Max. He and I were wounded; one of ourmen-at-arms was killed, and Franz's life was saved only by an heroicfeat of arms on Max's part. The robbers were driven off; we spent afortnight in a near-by monastery, that our wounds might heal, and againstarted for Basel.

  During the last week in March we approached Basel. Max had saved themerchant's life; we had protected the caravan from robbery; and goodFranz was grateful. Notwithstanding our sure reward, Max was gloomy. Thefuture had lost its rosiness; his wound did not readily heal; Basel washalf a hundred leagues off our road to Burgundy. Why did we ever come toSwitzerland? Everything was wrong. But no man knows what good fortunemay lurk in an evil chance.

  At the close of a stormy day we sighted Basel from the top of a hill,and soon the lights, one by one, began to twinkle cosily through thegloaming. All day long drizzling rain and spitting snow had blown in ourfaces like lance points, driven down the wind straight from the icyAlps. We were chilled to the bone; in all my life I have never beheld asight so comforting as the home lights of the quaint old Swiss city.

  Franz soon found a wherry and, after crossing the Rhine, we marchedslowly down the river street, ducking our heads to the blast. Withinhalf an hour we passed under a stone archway and found ourselves snug inthe haven of our merchant's courtyard. Even the sumpter mules rejoiced,and gave forth a chorus of brays that did one's heart good. Every toneof their voices spoke of the warm stalls, the double feed of oats, andthe great manger of sweet hay that awaited them. Before going into thehouse Max gave to each mule a stroke of his hand in token of affection.Surely this proud automaton of Hapsburg was growing lowly in his tastes.In other words, nature had captured his heart and was driving out theinherited conventions of twenty generations. Five months of contact withthe world had wrought a greater cure than I had hoped five years wouldwork. I was making a man out of the flesh and blood of a Hapsburg. Godonly knows when the like had happened before.

  Max and I were conducted by a demure little Swiss maid to a large roomon the third floor of the house, overlooking the Rhine. There was noluxury, but there was every comfort. There were two beds, each with asoft feather mattress, pillows of down, and warm, stuffed coverlets ofsilk. These were not known even in the duke's apartments at HapsburgCastle. There we had tarnished gold cloth and ancient tapestries inabundance, but we lacked the little comforts that make life worthliving. Here Max learned another lesson concerning the people of thisworld. The lowly Swiss merchant's unknown guest slept more comfortablythan did the Duke of Styria.

  When we went down to supper, I could see the effort it cost Max to sitat table with these good people. But the struggle was not very great;five months before it would have been impossible. At Hapsburg he sat attable with his father and mother only; even I had never sat with him inthe castle. At Basel he was sitting with a burgher and a burgher's frau.In Styria he ate boar's meat from battered silver plate and drank sourwine from superannuated golden goblets; in Switzerland he ate tender,juicy meats and toothsome pastries from stone dishes and drank richCannstadt beer from leathern mugs. His palate and his stomach jointlyattacked his brain, and the horrors of life in Hapsburg appeared intheir true colors.

  On the morning of our second day at Basel, Franz invited us to be hisguests during our sojourn in the city. His house was large, having beenbuilt to entertain customers who came from great distances to buyhis silks.

  Max and I had expected to leave Basel when our wounds were entirelyhealed, but we changed our minds after I had talked with Franz. Theconversation that brought about this change occurred one morning whilethe merchant and I were sitting in his shop. He handed me a purse filledwith gold, saying:--

  "Here is twice the sum I agreed to pay. I beg that you accept it since Ishall still be in your debt."

  I knew by the weight of the gold that it was a larger sum than I hadever before possessed. I did not like to accept it, but I could notbring myself to refuse a thing so important to Max.

  "We should not accept this from you, good Franz, but--but--"

  "The boy saved my life and my fortune," he interrupted, "and I am reallyashamed to offer you so small a sum. You should have half of allmy goods."

  I protested and thanked him heartily, not only for his gift, but alsofor his manner of giving. Then I told him of our intended journey toBurgundy--of course not mentioning the princess--and asked if he knew ofany merchant who would soon be travelling that way.

  "There are many going down the river from Basel to Strasburg," heanswered, "and you may easily fall in with one any day. But there willsoon be an opportunity for you to travel all the way to Burgundy. Iknow the very man for your purpose. He is Master George Castleman ofPeronne. He comes every spring, if there is peace along the road, to buysilks. We now have peace, though I fear it will be of short duration,and I am expecting Castleman early this season. He will probably be herebefore the first of May. He is a rich merchant, and was one of thecouncillors of Duke Philip the Good, father to the present Duke ofBurgundy. Years ago Duke Philip built a house for him abutting the wallsof Peronne Castle. It is called 'The House under the Wall,' andCastleman still lives in it. He refused a title of nobility offered himby Duke Philip. He is not out of favor with the present duke, but heloves peace too dearly to be of use to the hot-headed, tempestuousCharles. Duke Charles, as you know, is really King of Burgundy--therichest land on earth. His domain is the envy of every king, but he willbring all his grandeur tumbling about his head if he perseveres in hispresent course of violence and greed."

  At that moment Max joined us.

  "I hear this Duke Charles has no son to inherit his rich domain?" Iobserved interrogatively.

  "No," answered Franz. "He has a daughter, the Princess Mary, who willinherit Burgundy. She is said to be as gentle as her father is violent.Castleman tells me that she is gracious and kind to those beneath her,and, in my opinion, that is the true stamp of greatness."

  Those were healthful words for Max.

  "The really great and good have no need to assert their qualities," Ianswered.

  "Castleman often speaks of the princess," said Franz. "He tells me thathis daughter Antoinette and the Princess Mary have been friends sincechildhood--that is, of course, so far as persons so widely separated bybirth and station can be friends."

  I briefly told Max what Franz had said concerning Castleman, and theyoung fellow was delighted at the prospect of an early startfor Peronne.

  In Max's awakening, the radiance of his ideal may have been dimmed, butif so, the words of Franz restored its lustre. If the boy's fancy hadwandered, it quickly returned to the lady of Burgundy.

  I asked Franz if Duke Charles lived at Peronne.

  "No, he lives at Ghent," he answered; "but on rare occasions he visitsPeronne, which is on the French border. Duke Philip once lived there,but Charles keeps Peronne only as his watch-tower to overlook his oldenemy, France. The enmity, I hope, will cease, now that the PrincessMary is to marry the Dauphin."

  This confirmation of a rumor which I had already heard was anything butwelcome. However, it sensitized the feeling Max entertained for hisunknown lady-love, and strengthened his resolution to pursue hisjourney to Burgundy at whatever cost.

  I led Franz to speak of Burgundian affairs and he continued:--


  "The princess and her stepmother, the Duchess Margaret, live at Peronne.They doubtless found life at Ghent with the duke too violent. It is saidthat the duchess is unhappily wedded to the fierce duke, and that theunfortunate princess finds little favor in her father's eyes because hecannot forgive her the grievous fault of being a girl."

  While Franz was talking I was dreaming. A kind providence had led us ahalf-hundred leagues out of our road, through wounds and hardships, toBasel; but that quiet city might after all prove to be the open doorwayto Max's fortune. My air-castle was of this architecture: Max would winold Castleman's favor--an easy task. We would journey to Peronne, seekCastleman's house, pay court to Antoinette--I prayed she might not betoo pretty--and--you can easily find your way over the rest ofmy castle.

  Within a fortnight Max and I had recovered entirely from our wounds, andwere abroad each day in the growing warmth of the sunshine. We did notoften speak of Castleman, but we waited, each day wishing for hisspeedy advent.

  At last, one beautiful evening early in May, he arrived. Max and I weresitting at our window watching the river, when the little company rodeup to the door of the merchant's shop. With Castleman were two youngwomen hardly more than girls. One of them was a pink and white youngbeauty, rather tall and somewhat stout. Her face, complexion, and hairwere exquisite, but there was little animation in her expression. Theother girl had features less regular, perhaps, but she was infinitelymore attractive. She was small, but beautiful in form; and she sprangfrom her horse with the grace of a kitten. Her face was not so white asher companion's, but its color was entrancing. Her expression wasanimated, and her great brown eyes danced like twinkling stars on aclear, moonless night.

  The young women entered the house, and we saw nothing more of them forseveral days.

  When we met Castleman, he gladly engaged our services to Peronne, havingheard from Franz of our adventures in the Black Forest. We left theterms to him, and he suggested a compensation far greater than we shouldhave asked. The sum we received from Franz, together with that which weshould get from Castleman, would place us beyond want for a year tocome. Surely luck was with us.

  After Castleman's arrival our meals were served in our room, and we sawlittle of him or of Franz for a week or more. Twice I saw Castleman rideout with the young women, and after that I haunted the front door ofthe house. One bright afternoon I met them as they were about todismount. Castleman was an old man and quite stout, so I helped him fromhis horse. He then turned to the fair girl of pink and white, saying:--

  "Antoinette, daughter, this is Sir Karl de Pitti, who will accompany usto Peronne."

  I made my bow and assisted Fraeulein Antoinette to the ground. The otheryoung lady sprang nimbly from her saddle without assistance and waited,as I thought, to be presented. Castleman did not offer to present her,and she ran to the house, followed by serene Antoinette. I concludedthat the smaller girl was Fraeulein Castleman's maid. I knew that greatfamiliarity between mistress and servant was usual among theburgher class.

  The smaller girl was certainly attractive, but I did not care for heracquaintance. Antoinette was the one in whose eyes I hoped to findfavor, first for myself and then for Max. By her help I hoped Max mightbe brought to meet the Princess of Burgundy when we should reachPeronne. I had little doubt of Max's success in pleasing Antoinette; Iwas not at all anxious that he should please the smaller maid. There wasa saucy glance in her dark eyes, and a tremulous little smile constantlyplaying about her red, bedimpled mouth, that boded trouble to asusceptible masculine heart. Max, with all his simplicity, though notsusceptible, had about him an impetuosity when his interest was arousedof which I had learned to stand in wholesome dread. I was jealous of anywoman who might disturb his dreams of Mary of Burgundy, and this littlemaid was surely attractive enough to turn any man's head her way if sheso desired.

  Later in the afternoon I saw Fraeulein Antoinette in the shop looking atsilks and laces. Hoping to improve the opportunity, I approached her,and was received with a serene and gracious smile. Near Antoinette werethe saucy brown eyes and the bedimpled mouth. Truly they wereexquisitely beautiful in combination, and, old as I was, I could notkeep my eyes from them. The eyes and dimples came quickly to Antoinette,who presented me to her "Cousin Fraeulein Yolanda Castleman." FraeuleinYolanda bowed with a grace one would not expect to find in a burghergirl, and said with the condescension of a princess:--

  "Sir Karl, you pleasure me."

  I was not prepared for her manner. She probably was _not_ Antoinette'smaid. A pause followed my presentation which might have been meant bythe brown-eyed maid as permission to withdraw. But I was for havingfurther words with Antoinette. She, however, stepped back from hercousin, and, if I was to remain, I must speak to my lady FraeuleinYolanda Castleman or remain silent, so I asked,--

  "Do you reside in Basel, Fraeulein?"

  "No, no," she replied, with no touch of bourgeois confusion, "I am aBurgundian. Uncle Castleman, after promising Twonette" (I spell the nameas she pronounced it) "and me for years, has brought us on this longjourney into the world. I am enjoying it more than any one can know, butpoor uncle lives in dread of the journey home. He upbraids himself forhaving brought us and declares that if he but had us home again, nothingcould induce him to start out with such a cargo of merchandise."

  "Well he may be fearful," I answered. "Where one's greatest treasure is,there is his greatest fear, but peace reigns on the road to Burgundy,and I hope your good uncle's fears are without ground save in his love."

  "I hear you are to accompany us, and of course we shall be safe," shesaid, the shadow of a smile playing suspiciously about her mouth anddancing in her eyes.

  "Yes, I am to have that great _honor_," I replied, bowing very low. I,too, could be sarcastic.

  "Does the--will the--the gentleman who is with you accompany us?" askedFraeulein Yolanda. So! These maidens of Burgundy had already seen myhandsome Max! This one would surely be tempting him with her eyes andher irresistible little smile.

  "Yolanda!" exclaimed serene Twonette. Yolanda gave no heed.

  "Yes, Fraeulein," I responded. "He goes with us. Do you live in Peronne?"

  "Y-e-s," she replied hesitatingly. "Where is your home and yourfriend's?"

  "Yolanda!" again came in tones of mild remonstrance from FraeuleinAntoinette. The dimples again ignored the warning and waited formy answer.

  "We have no home at present save the broad earth, Fraeulein," Iresponded.

  "You cannot occupy it all," she retorted, looking roguishly up to me.

  "No," I responded, "we are occupying this part of the earth at present,but we hope soon to occupy Burgundy."

  "Please leave a small patch of that fair land for Twonette and me," sheanswered, in mock entreaty. After a short pause she continued:--

  "It seems easier for you to ask questions than to answer them."

  "Fraeulein," I responded, "your question is not easily answered. I wasborn in Italy. I lived for many years in the East, and--"

  "I did not ask for your biography," she said, interrupting me. I did notnotice the interruption, but continued:--

  "I spent six years in your fair land of Burgundy. My mother was aWalloon. I dearly love her people, and hope that my home may soon beamong them."

  The girl's face had been slightly clouded, but when I spoke lovingly ofthe Walloons, the dimples again played around her mouth and a smilebrightened her eyes.

  "I also am a Walloon," she answered; "and your friend? He surely is notItalian: he is too fair."

  "The Lombards are fair," I answered, "and the Guelphs, you know, are ofLombardy. You may have heard of the Houses of Guelph and of Pitti."

  "I have often heard of them," she answered; then, after a shortsilence,--"I fear I have asked too many questions." A gentle, apologeticsmile lighted her face and won me instantly. I liked her as much as Iadmired her. I knew that she wanted me to speak of Max, so to please herI continued, even against my inclination:--

  "My young friend, S
ir Maximilian du Guelph, wanted to see the world. Weare very poor, Fraeulein, and if we would travel, we must make our way aswe go. We have just come from Ulm and Cannstadt, passing through theBlack Forest. Sir Max saved the life of our host, and in so doing wasgrievously wounded. Good Master Franz rewarded us far beyond ourdeserts, and for the time being we think we are rich."

  "The name Maximilian is not Italian," observed Yolanda. "It has anAustrian sound."

  "That is true," I responded. "My name, Karl, is German. Few namesnowadays keep to their own country. Your name, Yolanda, for example,is Italian."

  "Is that true?" she answered inquiringly, taking up a piece of lace. Isaw that the interview was closing. After a moment's hesitation Yolandaturned quickly to me and said:--

  "You and your friend may sup with us this evening in the dining room ofour hostess. We take supper at five."

  The invitation was given with all the condescension of a noble lady.Twonette ventured:--

  "What will father say, Yolanda?"

  "I can guess what uncle will say, but we will give him his say and takeour own way. Nonsense, Twonette, if we are to journey to Peronne withthese gentlemen, our acquaintance with them cannot begin too soon. Come,Sir Karl, and--and bring your young friend, Sir Maximilian."

  It was clear to my mind that, without my young friend, Sir Maximilian, Ishould not have had the invitation. Yolanda then turned to Franz and hissilks, and I, who had always thought myself of some importance, wasdismissed by a burgher girl. I soothed my vanity with the thought thatbeauty has its own prerogatives.

  Without being little, Yolanda was small; without nobility, she had the_haute_ mien. But over and above all she had a sweet charm of manner, asaucy gentleness, and a kindly grace that made her irresistible. Whenshe smiled, one felt like thanking God for the benediction.

  That evening at five o'clock Max and I supped with Frau Franz. The goodfrau and her husband sat at either end of the table, Castleman, hisdaughter, and Yolanda occupied one side, while I sat by Max oppositethem. If Castleman had offered objection to the arrangement, he hadbeen silenced.

  I was especially anxious that Max should devote himself to Twonette,but, as I had expected, Yolanda's attractions were far too great to beresisted. There was a slight Walloon accent in her French and German (weall spoke both languages) that gave to her voice an exquisite cadence. Ispoke to her in Walloonish, and she was so pleased that she seemed tonestle toward me. In the midst of an animated conversation she suddenlybecame silent, and I saw her watching Max's hand. I thought she waslooking at his ring. It was the one that Mary of Burgundy had given him.