Part 42 (1/2)
But in the Prince's palace other things were going forward. Hitherto we have had to do with the Summer Palace by the river, a building of no strength, and built more as a pleasure house for the princely family than as a place of permanent habitation. But the Castle of Courtland was a structure of another sort.
Set on a low rock in the centre of the town, its walls rose continuous with its foundations, equally ma.s.sive and impregnable, to the height of over seventy feet. For the first twenty-five neither window nor grating broke the grim uniformity of those mighty walls of mortared rock. Above that line only a few small openings half-closed with iron bars evidenced the fact that a great prince had his dwelling within. The main entrance to the Castle was through a gateway closed by a grim iron-toothed portcullis. Then a short tunnel led to another and yet stronger defence--a deep natural fosse which surrounded the rock on all sides, and over which a drawbridge conducted into the courtyard of the fortress.
The Sparhawk knew very well that he was going to his death as he rode through the streets of the city of Courtland, but none would have discovered from his bearing that there was aught upon his mind of graver concern than the fit of a doublet or, perhaps, the favour of a pretty maid-of-honour. But with the Princess Margaret it was different. In these last crowded hours she had quite lost her old gay defiance. Her whole heart was fixed on Maurice, and the tears would not be bitten back when she thought of the fate to which he was going with so manly a courage and so fine an air.
They dismounted in the gloomy courtyard, and Maurice, slipping quickly from his saddle, caught Margaret in his arms before the Muscovite could interfere. She clung to him closely, knowing that it might be for the last time.
”Maurice, Maurice,” she murmured, ”can you forgive me? I have brought you to this!”
”Hush, sweetheart,” he answered in her ear; ”be my own dear princess. Do not let them see. Be my brave girl. They cannot divide our love!”
”Come, I beg of you,” came the dulcet voice of Prince Ivan behind them; ”I would not for all Courtland break in upon the billing and cooing of such turtle-doves, were it not that their affection blinds them to the fact that the men-at-arms and scullions are witnesses to these pretty demonstrations. Tarry a little, sweet valentines--time and place wait for all things.”
The Princess commanded herself quickly. In another moment she was once more Margaret of Courtland.
”Even the Prince of Muscovy might spare a lady his insults at such a time!” she said.
The Prince bared his head and bowed low.
”Nay,” he said very courteously; ”you mistake, Princess Margaret. I insult you not. I may regret your taste--but that is a different matter.
Yet even that may in time amend. My quarrel is with this gentleman, and it is one of some standing, I believe.”
”My sword is at your service, sir!” said Maurice von Lynar firmly.
”Again you mistake,” returned the Prince more suavely than ever; ”you have no sword. A prisoner, and (if I may say so without offence) a spy taken red-hand, cannot fight duels. The Prince of Courtland must settle this matter. When his Justiciar is satisfied, I shall most willingly take up my quarrel with--whatever is left of the most n.o.ble Count Maurice von Lynar.”
To this Maurice did not reply, but with Margaret still beside him he followed Prince Louis up the narrow ancient stairway called from its shape the couch, into the gloomy audience chamber of the Castle of Courtland.
They reached the hall, and then at last, as though restored to power by his surroundings, Prince Louis found his tongue.
”A guard!” he cried; ”hither Berghoff, Kampenfeldt! Conduct the Princess to her privy chamber and do not permit her to leave it without my permission. I would speak with this fellow alone.”
Ivan hastily crossed over to Prince Louis and whispered in his ear.
In the meantime, ere the soldiers of the guard could approach, Margaret cried out in a loud clear voice, ”I take you all to witness that I, Margaret of Courtland, am the wife of this man, Maurice von Lynar, Count von Loen. He is my wedded husband, and I love him with all my heart!
According to G.o.d's holy ordinance he is mine!”
”You have forgotten the rest, fair Princess,” suggested Prince Ivan subtly--”_till death you do part!_”
CHAPTER x.x.xIX
PRINCE WASP STINGS
Margaret did not answer her tormentor's taunt. Her arms went about Maurice's neck, and her lips, salt with the overflowing of tears, sought his in a last kiss. The officer of the Prince's guard touched her on the shoulder. She shook him haughtily off, and then, having completed her farewells, she loosened her hands and went slowly backward towards the further end of the hall with her eyes still upon the man she loved.
”Stay, Berghoff,” said Prince Louis suddenly; ”let the Princess remain where she is. Cross your swords in front of her. I desire that she shall hear what I have to say to this young gentleman.”
”And also,” added Prince Ivan, ”I desire the n.o.ble Princess to remember that this has been granted by the Prince upon my intercession. In the future, it may gain me more of her favour than I have had the good fortune to enjoy in the past!”