“May she keep it?” Quentin asked gently. “There is need for haste, and I have not time to make another figure.”
Joan swallowed hard. Marguerite had heard many secrets that no one else knew. “Aye,” she said, “I will let her go.”
Then each little figure in turn received its secret to keep, and Joan, Lady Philippa, and the other maids sewed furiously for a day and a half. Each Princess was gowned in robes woven with the arms of her kingdom. The other figures were suitably dressed. The weights which made the jester turn a somersault were gold inside a lead casing—Giovanni might need that. There were jewels hidden safely in his dagger-hilt and Cimarron’s, but to all appearance they were two common chapmen. They were gone for a long time, but Marguerite— the only poppet to return—came back safely, and inside her discreet bosom were letters for the King. Cimarron brought her to the door of Gilles the hurer, and told Joan that Giovanni, after selling the puppet-show, had stayed in Alexandria to fight for Milan.
ARMORER’S SONG
By the armorer’s tower the fire burned bright
In the long black shadows of coming night.
Quoth Franklin to Tomkyn, “Twenty to one
We shall both be gone ere to-morrow’s sun—
Shoot a round for the love o’ the game!”
By Ascalon towers the sun blazed red
Where one stood living and twenty were dead,—
Quoth Roger to Raimond, “We be but few,
Yet keener the triumph when steel rings true—
Break a lance for the Faith and the Name!”
By London Tower the watch-fires glowed
On the troops that marched by the Roman Road.
Quoth Drake to Howard, “Armadas be tall,
Yet the proudest oak in a gale may fall,—
Take a chance for Belphoebe’s fame!
“They live in Valhalla who fought for their land
With dauntless heart and ungrudging hand,
They went to the task with a laugh and a jest,—
Peace to their souls, wherever they rest!
And we of their blood, wherever we go,
By the Carib Seas or the Greenland floe,
With heart unwearied and hand unstayed,
Must win or lose by the law they made,—
Strike hard—for the love o’ the game!”