Part 41 (1/2)
”And why?” he asked in a tone full of contempt. ”Why cannot the Princess Margaret be married?”
”Because,” said the woman in the long cloak, fingering a string at her neck, ”she is married already. _I am her husband!_”
The long blue cloak fell to the ground, and the Sparhawk, clad in close-fitting squire's dress, stood before their astonished eyes.
A long low murmur, gathering and sinking, surged about the square.
Prince Louis gasped. Margaret clung to her lover's arm, and for the s.p.a.ce of a score of seconds the whole world stopped breathing.
Prince Ivan twisted his moustache as if he would pull it out by the roots.
”So,” he said, ”the Princess is married, is she? And you are her husband? 'Whom G.o.d hath joined'--and the rest of it. Well, we shall see, we shall see!”
He spoke gently, meditatively, almost caressingly.
”Yes,” cried the Sparhawk defiantly, ”we were married yesterday by Father Clement, the Prince's chaplain, in the presence of the most n.o.ble Leopold von Dessauer, High Councillor of Pla.s.senburg!”
”And my wife--the Princess Joan, where is she?” gasped Prince Louis, so greatly bewildered that he had not yet begun to be angry.
Ivan of Muscovy put out his hand.
”Gently, friend,” he said; ”I will unmask this play-acting springald.
This is not your wife, not the woman you wedded and fought for, not the Lady Joan of Hohenstein, but some baseborn brother, who, having her face, hath played her part, in order to mock and cheat and deceive us both!”
He turned again to Maurice von Lynar.
”I think we have met before, Sir Masquer,” he said with his usual suave courtesy; ”I have, therefore, a double debt to pay. Hither!” He beckoned to the guards who lined the approaches. ”I presume, sir, so true a courtier will not brawl before ladies. You recognise that you are in our power. Your sword, sir!”
The Sparhawk looked all about the crowded square. Then he snapped his sword over his knee and threw the pieces down on the stone steps.
”You are right; I will not fight vainly here,” he said. ”I know well it is useless. But”--he raised his voice--”be it known to all men that my name is Maurice, Count von Loen, and that the Princess Margaret is my lawfully wedded wife. She cannot then marry Ivan of Muscovy!”
The Prince laughed easily and spread his hand with gentle deprecation, as the guards seized the Sparhawk and forced him a little s.p.a.ce away from the clinging hands of the Princess.
”I am an easy man,” he said gently, as he clicked his dagger to and fro in its sheath. ”When I like a woman, I would as lief marry her widow as maid!”
CHAPTER x.x.xVIII
THE RETURN OF THE BRIDE
”Prince Louis,” continued Ivan, turning to the Prince, ”we are keeping these holy men needlessly, as well as disappointing the good folk of Courtland of their spectacle. There is no need that we should stand here any longer. We have matters to discuss with this gentleman and--his wife. Have I your leave to bring them together in the Palace? We may have something to say to them more at leisure.”
But the Prince of Courtland made no answer. His late fears of the Black Death, the astonis.h.i.+ng turn affairs had taken, the discovery that his wife was not his wife, the slowly percolating thought that his invasion of Kernsberg, his victories there, and his triumphal re-entry into his capital, had all been in vain, united with his absorbing fear of ridicule to deprive him of speech. He moved his hand angrily and began to descend the stairs towards the waiting horses.
Prince Ivan turned towards Maurice von Lynar.
”You will come with me to the Palace under escort of these gentlemen of my staff,” he said, with smiling equality of courtesy; ”there is no need to discuss intimate family affairs before half the rabble of Courtland.”
He bowed to Maurice as if he had been inviting him to a feast. Maurice looked about the crowded square, and over the pennons of the Cossacks.
He knew there was no hope either in flight or in resistance. All the approaches to the square had been filled up with armed men.