The Mercenary Part 13

"He is not so old as you think, your Highness, neither is his vigour of mind and body much abated, but it is not becoming of me to discourse of these things to your Highness. The Elector Maximilian desires to wed again, and to one of the Emperor's daughters...."

"And you wish me, the Archd.u.c.h.ess Stephanie of Austria, to listen to a proposal of marriage with Maximilian of Bavaria, whose grandson were a more fitting match. Understand! I cannot and I will not. The Emperor may a.s.sert his will, if he has any, apart from your order. But as for me I will go into a nunnery, or marry a private gentleman, or turn Protestant."

"As to the first," said the priest, "you would thereby run the risk of losing your soul instead of saving it, for you would be doing it out of frowardness. As for the second, your pride would never brook the extinction that would follow it. _As for the third, your Highness, it is mooted that you have already strange leanings towards heretics if not heresy._"

The Archd.u.c.h.ess flushed angrily. Her eyes flashed. Her whole face and form, as she rose to her feet, took on an aspect of terrible majesty.

"Enough, Father Lamormain! You trespa.s.s beyond your proper functions!"

"No!" said the priest humbly enough. "Your soul is dearer to me than my own. I can only pray that you do not jeopardise it."

As if unconsciously his eyes fell from her own, which he had met with calm benignity, to the papers on the table, and then he suddenly lifted them and met her glance again. Again came the rush of crimson to her cheeks, then pallor.

She turned, and, sweeping aside the leathern curtain, pa.s.sed out of the chamber.

CHAPTER XI.

THE LOST DESPATCHES FOUND.

It was evening when Nigel at length pa.s.sed with his escort through the gates of Vienna, and on arriving at the palace was received with abundance of courtesies by some officer of the household, who ushered him to a suite of apartments in the wing allotted to the gentlemen in attendance on his Imperial Majesty. The Emperor was at dinner, and would expect him at his audience at an early hour on the morrow. A sumptuous supper was set before him, and he was a.s.siduously waited on by two pages. Dinner ended, the same officer appeared again, and asked if he desired to deliver his despatches to the Emperor's secretaries, who would wait upon him, but Nigel made excuse that his commission was to deliver them to the Emperor. This answer the gentleman received civilly enough, and saying he would send some officers to bear him company, wished him a good night's rest after his journey.

Presently three gentlemen came in and joined him at the table, where, the remains of supper being cleared away and fresh wine set down, they sat and played Skat, a game of cards which was then in great vogue among all the people of the eastern part of Germany, and had wiled away the tedium of many a long evening in camp for Nigel. With this and talk of Magdeburg a couple of hours pa.s.sed pleasantly, and then the party broke up. Nigel was not sorry to be free to go to bed.

It was a room of comfortable aspect. The walls were hung with embossed leather in the Flemish manner; the bed was a wide and high four-poster, and the other furniture consisted of a great chest, a chair or two and some other necessaries. It looked out upon the courtyard of the palace, a large open s.p.a.ce surrounded on four sides by piles of building. Nigel could dimly see so much. The rest he left till morning.

Having performed his devotions he stretched himself out upon the bed, drew up the heavy quilted counterpane and prepared to sleep.

But sleep was not to be wooed easily; for what was to happen on the morrow he could not foresee. The profound humiliation of having to confess in open audience to the Emperor the loss of his despatches was perhaps the most poignant of his antic.i.p.ations. And this he had pa.s.sed through so often in his mind already that he could not imagine that any worse pang than he had already experienced could arise out of the reality. From this his mind roved to the punishment that might be inflicted. He expected that some military penalty would be his lot, confinement perhaps for a time, the loss of his rank as captain. The worst would be dismissal from the Emperor's service; for like a true Scot he had learned to love his profession, and the service he had chosen had become that which commanded all his loyalty. As a soldier of fortune, who had fought with Wallenstein, he could make his way in any of the armies of Europe, but he was not by nature a mercenary. Dismissal would be the heaviest punishment of all. And then his thoughts, tired of dwelling on these painful themes, flew away to Erfurt and to Ottilie von Thuringen, that mysterious high-born lady whose history was entwined with his own and Wallenstein's.

He had laughed scornfully as he rode to Vienna, thinking of the poor figure Pietro Bramante had cut on the roadside among his pots and phials, wondered how Wallenstein could ever have paid the attention to his hocus-pocus that he had. He had blamed himself for his credulity when the sunlight and the matter-of-fact incidents of his journey had made the doings at Eger seem unreal.

But Ottilie was real. Ottilie had left an abiding impression. For Ottilie Nigel felt he could abandon even the service of the Emperor.

Could he but gain one look of rapt intentness, such as the vision of her had cast upon Wallenstein, then all the world might go. The surprising softness of her cheek, the great dark liquid eyes laden with mist or charged with lightning, the rich tones of her proud voice,--he recalled them and dwelt upon them one by one, and his whole being was full of the delight of his contemplation. And then, bathed in a warm glow, he fell asleep.

In the morning he was awakened by Sergeant Blick bringing him his holiday suit, or court suit, if it could be called so, for one who had never been at court before, with its freshly laundered lace collar and cuffs, its handsome doublet and breeches of dark-blue and silver, its fine Spanish leathern boots with tiny gold spurs, its plumed hat to carry out the vain conceit of one having come off a journey. Beneath the collar he wore a silver gorget and his sword, with its silver-tipped sheath burnished to the utmost, hung at his side.

Sergeant Blick was determined that, as far as in him lay, his own captain of musketeers should make a comely gallant show before the Emperor. He stayed till the last strap was secure and in its place.

"Now, captain, you look brave enough as far as outward fripperies go.

But the devil s.n.a.t.c.h me, captain, bear yourself less like a man that is going to be hung. A little smack of the Italian would not be amiss. It must not be said that Tilly's men cannot prank it with these Austrian rascals."

Then he stood back to see the effect, and even Nigel, whose antic.i.p.ations of evil had again possessed him but a whit less than they had the night before, was forced to laugh.

"You're like an old hen with one chicken, Blick. Call for a pint of Tokay and you shall see how I will outdo Captain Bobadillo!"

A brace of pages and a servant appeared at the same time.

The servant led away Sergeant Blick, not unwilling, to the b.u.t.tery.

The pages conducted Nigel to his _salle a manger_, and furnished not only the needful flagon of Tokay, but a substantial breakfast of smoked ham and sausages, a cold capon and dried fish. By the time he had finished he would have faced the Emperor and the whole Reichstag to boot.

Then the pages brought him scented water and soft linen to remove the traces of breakfast, and asked if he were ready.

They led him down the stairs, across the courtyard, in which the guard of the palace were exercising, and Nigel's eyes roved over their headpieces and corslets and muskets with the approval an officer must always bestow on a well-accoutred and disciplined troop. The pages crossed the courtyard and entered another door, again leading to some stairs, and pus.h.i.+ng open two high doors, they led him into another long gallery, the walls of which were hung with many portraits of bygone Habsburgs and of many grand dukes and princes with whom they had contracted alliances.

He cast a glance here and there, asking the pages questions as he went.

They told him that the hall of audience was at the other end, and that he would be summoned presently. There being no need of haste, he sauntered, giving more heed and indeed coming to a stand before a newly painted canvas of a princess.

"The Archd.u.c.h.ess Stephanie!" exclaimed both pages.

Nigel stood gazing at it.

"By Signor Pourbus, a Spaniard, who has but just painted the Emperor!"

they went on.

"Wondrous like!" was Nigel's exclamation.

"Very like!" said the pages. "Here comes Her Highness. She walks here a little while most mornings."

And out of a chamber at the side the Archd.u.c.h.ess Stephanie came, and Nigel and the pages awaited her approach. She came with no hurried pace, and as she came Nigel grew pale and red by turns, for here, if any one, was Ottilie von Thuringen, gloriously apparelled, her hair framing her face in a mult.i.tude of curling locks of raven hues, rows of pearls about her neck, suspending against the whiteness of her throat a jewelled dragon.

The Archd.u.c.h.ess stayed in her walk, and having cast a look at Nigel, said gently to one of the pages--

"Hermann! Who is this gentleman who waits for audience?"

"If it please your Highness," said the page, "it is Captain Nigel Charteris, bearer of despatches from Magdeburg!"

"Ah! I had forgotten." Then she turned to Nigel, who dropped upon his knees, extending him her hand to kiss, and he accomplished the obeisance with good grace, notwithstanding his lively emotion.

"You are welcome to Vienna, sir!"

Nigel was now uncertain. The tones of her voice seemed familiar, but not convincing.

"You have doubtless had a troublous journey?"

"In some measure, your Highness!" He had gained courage to look straight into her eyes, but there was no look or sign of recognition.

She made a little gesture to the page, who withdrew to wait at the end of the gallery.

"Tell me, sir, did you pa.s.s through Eger on your way?"

"Yes, your Highness!"

"Count Albrecht von Waldstein, is he not there?"