Fortune

When at last this gallant function had come to an end, and madam’s servants and retainers had been duly sworn and dismissed with goodwill, and even enthusiasm, upon their side, and a deal of majesty upon hers, she and her three chief officers—although for one of them, by name Don Miguel Jesus Maria de Sarda y Boegas, neither emolument nor employ had been found up to this present—repaired from the heat of the sun to the coolness of a chamber within the castle to partake of wine and other refreshment.

“An it please you, madam, it might not come amiss,” said the Count of Nullepart, “if in my capacity of master of the treasury I ventured to propose that his lordship’s grace and his trusty fat man be disinterred from their present situation, which, saving the presence of your ladyship, may not be without its ignominy.”

“That is well spoken, friend,” said the Countess Sylvia. “Page. Where is this page of ours? What, have we no page? Come hither, page! Page, go you to the master armourer, and bid him, as he esteems his place, to send his smiths immediately to unseal the door of his lordship’s grace.”

“And of his trusty fat man,” said the Count of Nullepart.

“And of his trusty fat man,” said our mistress; “although that fat man is so foolish as a dish of butter.”

“Touching my emoluments,” said Sir Richard Pendragon, eating his meat almost as grossly as he did in the inn; “touching my emoluments, countess, madam, and ladyship, it has entered my mind that it would accord with my merit if in addition to my other honours I received the more signal one of mastership of your ladyship’s treasury.”

“Peace, Sirrah Red Dragon,” said his mistress sternly; “and do you endeavour to eat your roast pig like a Christian gentleman. Endeavour, sirrah, to imitate the courteous delicacy in his feeding of the worshipful Count of Nullepart. But peace, I say, for I would engage the officers of my household upon a great affair. This castle is in peril. I do fear that the rude Castilian and all his men will soon be knocking on the gate. Would you have me dig pits and lay snares, Sirrah Red Dragon, for you are our man of war? We have but three hundred men-at-arms, and our villainous cousin will reckon his host by the thousand.”

“By my hand,” said the Englishman, “this is a kettle of fish.”

He fell again into the habit of stroking his chin, and it was remarkable to notice how a certain licence that was formerly to be seen in his demeanour was suddenly found in it no more. “I am fain to observe, madam,” said he with his new gravity, that seemed to have worked a miracle within him, “that here is a pretty work to be done.”

“Done it shall be, Sirrah Red Dragon,” said the Countess Sylvia. “If we spend every drop of our blood and that of every liege that is pledged to our service, the Castilian shall not enter here; do you mark me, sirrah!”

“We must address ourselves,” said the Englishman, “to providing this garrison with arms and ordnance, sack and sugar, for I am sore to believe we shall have to stand a siege. Madam, we must look to our provision without delay, if we are to throw the gauntlet down.”

“It shall be done, sirrah; this Castilian shall have a welcome. How long, bethink you, sirrah, can we hold this place with our three hundred men-at-arms?”

“Two years, madam, with sufficient munitions of war. But these are to obtain.”

“To-morrow,” said the Countess Sylvia, who, considering that she knew no more of the world than her convent had taught her, showed a great talent for affairs, “the hinds shall drive in the cattle from our outlying farms; and arms and every sort of munition shall be purchased so long as our treasury can provide them.”

“This castle has the appearance of a natural stronghold,” said the Count of Nullepart, “although it is little I know of war.”

“Three hundred men should give a proud battle,” said I, “if they have but one half the resolution of their mistress.”

“This is sooth,” said the Englishman; “I think we shall be able to hold the gate against the king.”

“For mine own part,” said the Count of Nullepart in his winning voice, “I would suggest that in the beginning we wear a silk gown over our armour. We have nought to obtain by trying a fall with such an adversary. Ought we not, bethink you, madam, to see what first can be done by the gentleness of our address?”

“That is well said, Sir Count,” said she. “He shall have gentle words in his ears. But remark me, if ever the occasion waits upon us he shall also learn that we keep a sword.”

“Valiancy in action, subtlety in discourse,” said the Count of Nullepart. “No kingdom could ask a choicer wisdom, madam. I drink to you as a proud but as a just and a good princess.”

The sweetness of the Count of Nullepart’s manner made it difficult to tell whether he toasted the lady in her beauty or the queen in her statecraft. Before Sir Richard Pendragon and myself, who viewed his action with no favourable eye, could decide whether such a behaviour was justified at a moment so grave, for madam in spite of her dignity had not thought fit to reprove him for it, there came a grievous interruption to our counsels and the harmony of our board.

His lordship’s grace, with his trusty fat man at his heels, bore down upon us.

“Ods myself,” he whined, shaking his fist, “if I do not put her in a dungeon for this I am unfit to wear hose. Soh! there we have you, little snake, surrounded by your conspirators. Luiz—Luiz; where are you, Luiz? Go, fetch the guard. These three rogues shall be broke on the wheel, and then they shall hang on the gate; and madam herself shall dwell in a dungeon for an hundred days.”

“My lord,” said his daughter calmly, “do not interfere with the business of the state.”

“Business of the state!” cried the duke. “I would have you to know, madam, that I am the business of the state. Ods myself! if I had my sword here I would spill some blood.”

In the violence of his anger the duke became so weak and incoherent that at last he fell to weeping like a child. And as he was thus engaged, and wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his rich silk doublet, Don Luiz had the misfortune to appear with twelve soldiers of the guard.

“Sirrah Red Dragon,” said the Countess Sylvia, turning to the English giant with a most masterful insolence, “as you value the command of my good lieges, I would have you see to it that they take that fat fellow, who is so beastly in his appearance that I hardly dare to give him a name, and do you have him placed in a strait jerkin. And do you see to it that he hath neither sack nor sugar, neither grease nor butter, nor pig, nor flesh of any kind, nor German forcemeat, nor any article of victual whatsoever that is likely in any degree to inflame his bulk.”

“I obey your command, madam and ladyship. I kneel at your feet,” said the English giant, making a mighty flourish. The next moment the unfortunate Don Luiz was marched forth, protesting violently, while the old duke, at the sight of this grievous affront to his gentleman-usher, fell to gnashing his teeth one moment and shedding tears the next.

“Where is my authority?” he cried out. “Am I without authority behind mine own door? Oh, this is grievous, this is grievous! I have a she-wolf for a daughter and she hath filled my old years with sorrow. Is there no manhood in Spain! Will none protect a parent from the machinations of a she-wolf? Do my goodly life and my clement nature go for nought? Is there no consideration for the aged, who are blind of eye, who are halt of their gait, who are smitten with ague and loss of their appetites? Is there no virtue in the whole of this wicked and ungracious world? Oh me, misery! I could weep till my poor soul was drowned in a flood of tears.”

“If your lordship’s grace will not bawl like an old bull under the moon,” said the little countess ruthlessly, “I will give you the leg of an ortolan. These are great matters we are pledged to consider, and if your lordship’s grace, which mops and mows like an old grey bear that hath no teeth to tear its dinner, intrudes upon our deliberations so unseasonably, we should do better to play at mumchance or to bite our thumbs. Go into a corner and eat a fowl, and leave this assembly to thwart the machinations of the rude Castilian.”

“Ay di me!” said the duke, “give me a wing then! This is a nice old age to be so maltreated. Is there no virtue in the whole of the world! Ay di me! I am the most misused parent in Spain. Give me a wing then, proud hulks, give me a wing; and ods my good heart, I will never be a parent again.”

His lordship’s grace being presently comforted with the carcass of an ortolan, sat himself down on a stool in a corner of the apartment and began to devour it fiercely. But hardly had the council resumed its deliberations, when Sir Richard Pendragon returned wearing a mien of high authority, and informed his mistress that a messenger was at the gate bearing a cartel from the Castilian.

“Do you admit him, Sirrah Red Dragon,” said she. “Let him be brought to our presence. We will hold speech with him.”

As the English giant went on this errand, the Count of Nullepart bent across the council board, and whispered in the ear of the Countess Sylvia, “Courteously, courteously, an it like your ladyship. Will madam deign to remember that many a deep wound hath been abated by a fair expression?”

“Peace, friend,” said the Countess Sylvia with a queenly look. “My words are as I want them. I speak this Castilian in what sort I choose; and I would have him to know that if I speak him soft he shall yet feel my dagger. I have three hundred men of valiance, and I care not if the rude Castilian were the King of the Russ.”

Surely a glance so flashing and a bearing of such high disdain never shone about a mortal creature as those that enhanced this noble thing, as she sat as staunch as an arrow before the council board, awaiting the delivery of the cartel from the most powerful prince in Spain.