THE HOUSE UNDER THE WALL
To leave Max and myself in our underground dungeon, imprisoned for an unknown, uncommitted crime, while I narrate occurrences outside our prison walls looks like a romancer's trick, but how else I am to go about telling this history I do not know. Yolanda is quite as important a personage in this narrative as Max and myself, and I must tell of her troubles as I learned of them long afterwards.
Castleman reached home ten days or a fortnight after our arrest, bringing with him his precious silks, velvets, and laces to the last ell. As he had predicted, they were quadrupled in value, and their increase made the good burgher a very rich man.
Soon after Castleman reached the House under the Wall, Yolanda came dancing into the room where he was sitting with good Frau Katherine, drinking a bottle of rich Burgundy wine well mixed with pepper and honey.
"Ah, uncle," she cried joyously, "at last you are at home, and I have a fine kiss for you."
"Thank you, my dear," said Castleman, "you have spoiled my wine. The honey will now taste vinegarish."
"You are a flatterer, uncle--isn't he, tante?" laughed Yolanda, turning to Aunt Castleman.
"I am afraid he is," said the good frau, in mock distress. "Every one tries to spoil him."
"You more than any one, tante," cried Yolanda.
"Tut, tut, child," cried Frau Katherine, "I abate his vanity with frowns."
Yolanda laughed, and the burgher, pinching his wife's red cheek, protested:--
"You frown? You couldn't frown if you tried. A clear sky may rain as easily. Get the peering glass, Yolanda, and find, if you can, a wrinkle on her face."
Yolanda, who was always laughing, threw herself upon the frau's lap and pretended to hunt for wrinkles. Soon she reported:--
"No wrinkles, uncle--there, you dear old tante, I'll kiss you to keep you from growing jealous of uncle on my account."
"If any one about this house has been spoiled, it's you, Yolanda," said Frau Kate, affectionately.
"When you speak after that fashion, tante, you almost make me weep," said Yolanda. "Surely you and uncle and Twonette are the only friends I have, and give me all the joy I know. But, uncle, now that you are at home, I want you to drink your wine quickly and give me a great deal of joy--oh, a great deal."
"Indeed I will, my dear. Tell me where to begin," answered Castleman, draining his goblet.
Yolanda flushed rosily and hesitated. At that moment Twonette, who had already greeted her father, entered the room.
"Twonette will tell you," said Yolanda, laughing nervously.
"What shall I tell him?" asked Twonette.
"You will tell him what I want him to do quickly, at once, immediately," pleaded Yolanda. "You know what I have waited for this long, weary time."
"Tell him yourself what you want quickly, at once, immediately," answered Twonette. "I, too, have wants."
"What do you want, daughter?" asked Castleman, beaming upon Twonette.
"I want thirty ells of blue velvet for a gown, and I want you to ask permission of the duke for me to wear it."
"Many noble ladies would not dare to ask so much of the duke," suggested Castleman.
"It is true, George," said Frau Kate, "that only noble ladies of high degree are permitted to wear velvet of blue; but it is also true that only your stubbornness has deprived our daughter of that privilege. She might now be noble had you not been stubborn."
"I also want--" began Twonette.
"You shall wear the duke's own color, purple, if you will hold your tongue about worthless matters and tell your father what I want," cried Yolanda, impetuously thrusting Twonette toward Castleman.
"You tell him your own wants," answered Twonette, pouting. "Then perhaps his own daughter may have his ear for a moment or two."
Yolanda laughed at Twonette's display of ill-temper.
"Well, uncle, since I must tell my own tale, I will begin," said Yolanda, blushing. "I want you to go to The Mitre and ask a friend--two friends--of yours here to supper this evening. I have waited a weary time for you to give this invitation, and I will not wait another hour, nay, not another minute. We have a fat peacock that longs to be killed; it is so fat that it is tired of life. We have three pheasants that will die of grief if they are not baked at once. I myself have been feeding them this fortnight past in anticipation of this feast. We have a dozen wrens for a live pie, so tame they will light on our heads when you cut the crust. We shall have a famous feast, uncle. There will be present only tante, you, Twonette, our two guests, and myself. Now, uncle, the wine is consumed. Hurry to the inn."
"My dear child," said Castleman, seriously, "you know that I am almost powerless to refuse any request you make, but in this case I must do so."
"Ah, uncle, please tell me why," coaxed Yolanda, with trouble in her eyes and grief at the corners of her mouth.
"Because you must see no more of this very pleasing young man," answered Castleman. "I yielded to your wishes at Basel and brought him with us; I was compelled to send him with you from Metz; but now that our journey is over, I shall thank him and pay him an additional sum, since my goods are safe home, and say farewell to him. I believe he is a worthy and honorable young man, but we do not know who he is, and if we did--"
"Ah, but I know who he is," interrupted Yolanda, tossing her head. "We may not know, but I know, and that is sufficient."
"Do you know?" asked Castleman. "Pray tell me of him. The information was refused me; at least, it was not given. He is probably of noble birth, but we have nobles here in Peronne whom we would not ask to our house. We know nothing of this wandering young Max, save that he is honest and brave and good to look upon."
"In God's name, uncle, what more would you ask in a man?" cried Yolanda, stamping her foot. "'Noble, honest, brave, and good to look upon!' Will not those qualities fit a man for any one's regard and delight any woman's heart? I tell you I will have my way in this. I tell you I know his degree. I know who he is and what he is and all about him, though I don't intend to tell you anything, and would inform you now that it's no business of yours."
"Did you coax all this information out of him, you little witch?" asked Castleman, smiling against his will.
"I did not," retorted Yolanda, leaning forward and lifting her chin defiantly. "I learned it soon after we reached Basel. I discovered it by--by magic--by sorcery. He will tell you as much."
"By the magic of your eyes and smiles. That's the way you wheedled it out of him, and that's the way you coax every one to your will," said Castleman, laughing while Yolanda pouted.
"I never saw a girl make such eyes at a man as you made at this Sir Max," said Twonette, who was waiting for her blue velvet gown.
"Twonette, you are prettier with your mouth shut. Silence becomes you," retorted Yolanda, favoring Twonette with a view of her back. "Now, uncle," continued Yolanda, "all is ready: peacock, pheasants, wrens; and I command you to procure the guests."
Castleman laughed at her imperious ways and said:--
"I will obey your commands in all else, Yolanda, but not in this."
The girl, who was more excited than she appeared to be, stood for a moment by her uncle's side, and, drawing her kerchief from its pouch, placed it to her eyes.
"Every one tries to make me unhappy," she sobbed. "There is no one to whom I may turn for kindness. If you will not do this for me, uncle, if you will not bring him--them--to me, I give you my sacred word I will go to them at the inn. If you force me to do an act so unmaidenly, I'll leave you and will not return to your house. I shall know that you do not love me!"
Castleman was not ready to yield, though he was sure that in the end he would do so. He also knew that her threat to go to the inn was by no means an idle word.
Yolanda was not given to tears, but she used them when she found she could accomplish her ends by no other means. A long pause ensued, broken by Yolanda's sobs.
"Good-by, uncle. Good-by, tante. Good-by, Twonette. I mean what I say, uncle. I am going, and I shall not come back if you will not do this thing for me. I am going to the inn."
She kissed them all and started toward the door. The loving old tante could not hold out. She, too, was weeping, and she added her supplications to Yolanda's.
"Do what she asks, father--only this once," said Frau Kate.
"Only this once," pleaded Yolanda, turning her tear-moistened eyes upon the helpless burgher.
"I suppose I must surrender," exclaimed Castleman, rising from his chair. "I have been surrendering to you, your aunt, and Twonette all my life. First Kate, then Twonette, and of late years they have been reënforced by you, Yolanda, and my day is lost. I do a little useless fighting when I know I am in the right, but it is always followed by a cowardly surrender."
"But think of your victories in surrender, uncle. Think of your rewards," cried Yolanda, running to his side and kissing him. "Many a man would fight a score of dragons for that kiss."
"Dragons!" cried Castleman, protestingly. "I would rather fight a hundred dragons than do this thing for you, Yolanda. I know little concerning the ways of a girl's heart, but, ignorant as I am, I could see--Mother, I never saw a girl so infatuated with a man as our Yolanda is with this Sir Max--this stranger."
"There, tante," cried Yolanda, turning triumphantly to Frau Kate, "you hear what uncle says. Now you see the great reason for having him here--this Sir Max and his friend. But, uncle, if you think I mean to make a fool of myself about this man, put the notion out of your head. I know only too well the barrier between us, but, uncle mine," she continued pleadingly, all her wonted joyousness driven from her face, "I am so wretched, so unhappy. If I may have a moment of joy now, for the love of the Blessed Virgin don't deny me. I sometimes think you love me chiefly because I so truly deserve your pity. As for this young man, he is gentle, strong, and good, and, as you say, he certainly is good to look upon. Twonette knows that, don't you, Twonette? He is wise, too, and brave, even against the impulse of his own great heart. He thinks only of my good and his own duties. I am in no danger from him, uncle. He can do me only good. I shall be happier and better all my life long for having known him. Now, uncle?"
"I will fetch him," exclaimed Castleman, seeking his hat. "You may be right or you may be wrong, but for persuasiveness I never saw your like. I declare, Yolanda, you have almost made me feel like a villain for refusing you."
"I wish the world were filled with such villains, uncle. Don't you, tante?" said Yolanda, beaming upon the burgher.
"No," answered the frau, "I should want them all for my husbands."
"God forbid!" cried Yolanda, lifting her hands as she turned toward the door, laughing once more. "Tell them to be here by six o'clock, uncle. No! we will say five. Tell them to come on the stroke of five. No! four o'clock is better; then we will sup at six, and have an hour or two before we eat. That's it, uncle; have them here by four. Tell them to fail not by so much as a minute, upon their allegiance. Tell them to be here promptly on the stroke of four."
She ran from the room singing, and Castleman started toward the front door.
"The girl makes a fool of me whenever she wishes," he observed, pausing and turning toward his wife. "She coaxed me to take her to Basel, and life was a burden till I got her home again. Now she winds me around her finger and says, 'Uncle Castleman, obey me,' and I obey. Truly, there never was in all the world such another coaxing, persuasive little witch as our Yolanda."
"Poor child," said Frau Kate, as her husband passed out of the door.
Castleman reached The Mitre near the hour of one, and of course did not find us. At half-past four, Yolanda entered the great oak room where Twonette and Frau Kate were stitching tapestry.
"Where suppose you Sir Max is--and Sir Karl?" asked Yolanda, with a touch of anger in her voice. "Why has he not come? I have been watching but have not seen him--them. He places little value on our invitation to slight it by half an hour. I am of half a mind not to see him when he comes."
"Your uncle is downstairs under the arbor, Yolanda," said Frau Castleman, gently. "He will tell you, sweet one, why Sir Max is not here."
Frau Katherine and Twonette put aside their tapestry, and went with Yolanda to question Castleman in the arbor.
"Well, uncle, where are our guests?" asked Yolanda.
"They are not at the inn, and have not been there since nearly a fortnight ago," answered Castleman.
"Gone!" cried Yolanda, aflame with sudden anger. "He gave me his word he would not go. I'm glad he's gone, and I hope I may never see his face again. I deemed his word inviolate, and now he has broken it."
"Do not judge Sir Max too harshly," said Castleman; "you may wrong him. I do not at all understand the absence of our friends. Grote tells me they went to the river one night to bathe and did not return. Their horses and arms are at the inn. Their squires, who had left them two hours before, have not been seen since. Grote has heard nothing of our friends that will throw light on their whereabouts. Fearing to get himself into trouble, he has stupidly held his tongue. He was not inclined to speak plainly even to me."
"Blessed Mother, forgive me!" cried Yolanda, sinking back upon a settle. After a long silence she continued: "Two weeks ago! That was a few days after the trouble at the bridge."
"What trouble?" asked Castleman.
"I'll tell you, uncle, and you, tante. Twonette already knows of it," answered Yolanda. "Less than three weeks ago I was with Sir Max near the moat bridge. It was dark--after night--"
"Yolanda!" exclaimed Castleman, reproachfully.
"Yes, uncle, I know I ought not to have been there, but I was," said Yolanda.
"Alone with Sir Max after dark?" asked the astonished burgher.
"Yes, alone with him, after it was very dark," answered Yolanda. "I had met him several times before."
Castleman tried to speak, but Yolanda interrupted him:--
"Uncle, I know and admit the truth of all you would say, so don't say it. While I was standing very near to Sir Max, uncle, very near, Count Calli came upon us and offered me gross insult. Sir Max, being unarmed, knocked the fellow down, and in the struggle that ensued Count Calli's arm was broken. I heard the bone snap, then Calli, swearing vengeance, left us. Why Sir Max went out unarmed that night I do not know. Had he been armed he might have killed Calli; that would have prevented this trouble."
"I, too, wonder that Sir Max went out unarmed," said Castleman musingly. "Why do you suppose he was so incautious?"
"Perhaps that is the custom in Styria. There may be less danger, less treachery, there than in Burgundy," suggested Yolanda.
"In Styria!" exclaimed Castleman. "Sir Karl said that he was from Italy. He did not tell me of Sir Max's home, but I supposed he also was from Italy, or perhaps from Würtemberg--there are many Guelphs in that country."
"Yes, I will tell you of that later, uncle," said Yolanda. "When Calli left us, Sir Max returned safely to the inn, having promised me not to leave Peronne within a month. This trouble has come from Calli and Campo-Basso."
"But you say this young man is from Styria?" asked Castleman, anxiously.
"Yes," replied Yolanda, drooping her head, "he is Maximilian, Count of Hapsburg."
"Great God!" exclaimed Castleman, starting to his feet excitedly. "If I have brought these men here to be murdered, I shall die of grief; all Europe will turn upon Burgundy."
Yolanda buried her face in Mother Kate's breast; Castleman walked to and fro, and sympathetic Twonette wept gently. It was not in Twonette's nature to do anything violently. Yolanda, on the contrary, was intense in all her joys and griefs.
"Did Sir Max tell you who he is?" asked Castleman, stopping in front of Yolanda.
"No," she replied, "I will tell you some day how I guessed it. He does not know that I know, and I would not have you tell him."
"Tell me, Yolanda," demanded Castleman, "what has passed between you and this Sir Max?"
"Nothing, uncle, save that I know--ah, uncle, there is nothing. God pity me, there can be nothing. Whatever his great, true heart feels may be known to me as surely as if he had spoken a thousand vows, but he would not of his own accord so much as touch my hand or speak his love. He knows that one in his station may not mate with a burgher girl. He treats me as a true knight should treat a woman, and if he feels pain because of the gulf between us, he would not bring a like pain to me. He is a strong, noble man, Uncle Castleman, and we must save him."
"If I knew where to begin, I would try at once," said Castleman, "but I do not know, and I cannot think of--"
"I have a plan," interrupted Yolanda, "that will set the matter going. Consult my Lord d'Hymbercourt; he is a friend of Sir Karl's; he may help us. Tell him of the trouble at the bridge, but say that Twonette, not I, was there. If Lord d'Hymbercourt cannot help us, I'll try another way if I die for it."
Castleman found Hymbercourt and told him the whole story, substituting Twonette for Yolanda.
"It is the work of that accursed Basso," said Hymbercourt, stroking his beard. "No villany is too black for him and his minions to do."
"But what have they done?" asked Castleman. "They surely would not murder these men because of the quarrel at the bridge."
"They would do murder for half that cause," replied Hymbercourt. "A brave man hates an assassin, and I am always wondering why the duke, who is so bold and courageous, keeps this band of Italian cut-throats at his court."
"What can we do to rescue our friends if they still live, or to avenge them if dead?" asked Castleman.
"I do not know," answered Hymbercourt. "Let me think it all over, and I will see you at your house to-night. Of this I am certain: you must not move in the matter. If you are known to be interested, certain facts may leak out that would ruin you and perhaps bring trouble to one who already bears a burden too heavy for young shoulders. We know but one useful fact: Calli and Campo-Basso are at the bottom of this evil. The duke suspects that the states adjacent to Switzerland, including Styria, will give aid to the Swiss in this war with Burgundy, and it may be that Duke Charles has reasons for the arrest of our friends. He may have learned that Sir Max is the Count of Hapsburg. I hope his finger is not in the affair. I will learn what I can, and will see you to-night. Till then, adieu."
True to his promise, Hymbercourt went to Castleman's that evening, but he had learned nothing and had thought out no plan of action. Two days passed and there was another consultation. Still the mystery was as far from solution as on the day of its birth. Yolanda was in tribulation, and declared that she would take the matter into her own hands. Her uncle dissuaded her, however, and she reluctantly agreed to remain silent for a day or two longer, but she vowed that she would give tongue to her thoughts and arouse all Burgundy in behalf of Max and myself if we were not soon discovered.