“Out with them, man, if they were tidings from Antichrist!” said the Duke; “but I can guess them—the Liegeois are again in mutiny.”
“They are, my lord,” said Crevecoeur very gravely.
“Look there,” said the Duke, “I have hit at once on what you had been so much afraid to mention to me: the hare brained burghers are again in arms. It could not be in better time, for we may at present have the advice of our own Suzerain,” bowing to King Louis, with eyes which spoke the most bitter though suppressed resentment, “to teach us how such mutineers should be dealt with.—Hast thou more news in thy packet? Out with them, and then answer for yourself why you went not forward to assist the Bishop.”
“My lord, the farther tidings are heavy for me to tell, and will be afflicting to you to hear.—No aid of mine, or of living chivalry, could have availed the excellent Prelate. William de la Marck, united with the insurgent Liegeois, has taken his Castle of Schonwaldt, and murdered him in his own hall.”
“Murdered him!” repeated the Duke in a deep and low tone, which nevertheless was heard from the one end of the hall in which they were assembled to the other, “thou hast been imposed upon, Crevecoeur, by some wild report—it is impossible!”
“Alas! my lord!” said the Count, “I have it from an eyewitness, an archer of the King of France's Scottish Guard, who was in the hall when the murder was committed by William de la Marck's order.”
“And who was doubtless aiding and abetting in the horrible sacrilege,” said the Duke, starting up and stamping with his foot with such fury that he dashed in pieces the footstool which was placed before him. “Bar the doors of this hall, gentlemen—secure the windows—let no stranger stir from his seat, upon pain of instant death!—Gentlemen of my chamber, draw your swords.”
And turning upon Louis, he advanced his own hand slowly and deliberately to the hilt of his weapon, while the King, without either showing fear or assuming a defensive posture, only said—“These news, fair cousin, have staggered your reason.”
“No!” replied the Duke, in a terrible tone, “but they have awakened a just resentment, which I have too long suffered to be stifled by trivial considerations of circumstance and place. Murderer of thy brother!—rebel against thy parent—tyrant over thy subjects!—treacherous ally!—perjured King!—dishonoured gentleman!—thou art in my power, and I thank God for it.”
“Rather thank my folly,” said the King; “for when we met on equal terms at Montl'hery, methinks you wished yourself farther from me than we are now.”