Duke René was pacing restlessly to and fro in the guest room of the inn of The Bears at Basle. “Nancy will surely hold out,” he murmured half aloud; “it must. The burghers know I am coming to their relief as soon as possible. In truth it has been no easy matter to induce the Swiss to repay the assistance I have lent them; but at last all is ready, and I must find some way of warning my good subjects of Nancy that relief is at hand. But neither Siffrein nor yet the youth from Basle shall risk his life in such an attempt.”
At that moment the door opened and Siffrein de Baschi, the Duke’s faithful steward, entered. He was dressed as for a journey, and his dark eyes gleamed triumphantly as he said to his master: “How does my new travelling costume please Your Highness? Truly, ’tis somewhat soiled; but a minstrel must not be too fine, and tarnished finery will attract the less suspicion.”
René gazed in astonishment at the transformation. Had not every feature of the handsome face with its winning smile been so familiar to him he would never have recognized the knight.
“In travelling dress! What means this, Siffrein? Surely you will not persist in your mad resolve to go to Nancy? Abandon it, I charge you. Think of the grief it would cause me were any harm to befall you!”
“Nay, gracious lord,” entreated Siffrein, “grant me leave to go. Even should they capture me I shall not lose my head upon the spot, and they will do well if they catch me, I promise you. Young Irmy waits without. Will you not hear his plan at least?”
Without waiting for an answer he flung open the door and beckoned to Walter to enter. The Duke’s eyes rested approvingly on the youth’s stalwart figure and honest German face. Extending his hand to him, he said kindly: “Methinks, sir, we are already acquainted. I saw you fight beside Heinrich Vögeli at Murten.”
“As I, too, saw Your Highness,” replied Walter; “and there is not a Switzer but would gladly serve you.”
“For those fair words I give you thanks,” said the Duke, “but this service you now would render me I cannot accept; ’tis a foolish and a useless risk.”
“Craving Your Highness’s pardon, I do not think it so,” answered the youth. “Old Gerard has agreed to get us safely into Nancy, and he may be depended on to keep his word. He is a smuggler by trade and has often fetched merchandise for my father through the enemy’s camp. The Burgundian mercenaries know him well, and he is quite safe among them.”
“If there is the slightest risk of danger I cannot consent to your going,” declared the Duke, “for it is not needful.”