Part 12

"Why, this is better than best," she murmured, and with something almost too eager in her action she caught at the golden wreath and placed it on her head, while the whole arena now rang with applause at the chivalrous act of the victor. The moment the duchess had taken the wreath, Argathona turned her horse's head in the direction of her pavilion. Duke Baldwin rose in a towering fury from his throne. "This comes of the reading of books," he muttered to himself, and, quitting the gallery, he entered the lists to make inquiry as to the condition of his fallen son.

Argathona, slowly riding down the field on her white horse, was yet some distance from her pavilion, when a page, running breathlessly to her side, informed her that the lord-marshal desired speech with her. Immediately reining her horse, Argathona turned round and advanced to meet Count Ernault, who told her that the Duchess Esclaramonde earnestly entreated the favor of some speech with the victor who had crowned her queen of beauty.

XVIII

AN APPLE OF GOLD

Following the lord-marshal, Argathona came to the silken tent which sheltered the Lady Esclaramonde. At a sign from Count Ernault the pages in attendance drew back the curtains, and Argathona entering found herself in the presence of the Duchess of Thebes. The Lady Esclaramonde was reclining upon a pile of many-colored cushions, playing with a mirror and talking to her women. She propped herself on one elbow and smiled first at Sir Ernault and then at the fair face of the victor.

"I thank you," she said, and there was that in the tone of her voice, and that in the look of her eyes, and that in the deep of his own memory which made it plain to him that the duchess desired to be left alone with the young knight.

Gravity reigning in his face, irony rising in his mind, Count Ernault bowed and left the presence. At a sign from Esclaramonde the duchess's women withdrew into a further apartment of the pavilion, curtained off from the place where Esclaramonde now lay, who looked up alluringly into the impassive face of the youth. For to her, as to the others, with the glamour of the woodland will upon her, Argathona seemed no more than a handsome lad.

"You joust well, youth," she said. "Who is your true-love?"

"I played for a lady's sake," Argathona answered, "whom I maintain very fair."

Esclaramonde leaned forward a little on her silken couch, resting herself on both hands, like some beautiful wild beast about to spring.

"Who is this lady?" she asked, steel in her voice and steel in her eyes, for she could not bear to think that any man could find any woman fair while she was by.

A smile rippled over the dryad's face.

"I dare not say her name," she said, "yet, if you choose, you may see her."

Esclaramonde's dark brows met in a frown.

"Is she one of my women?" she asked, suddenly, and the sound of her voice boded ill for that one of her women whom the champion might name.

Argathona shook her head.

"Indeed no. She is not an inch below you in rank nor an inch above you in stature. Her eyes shine with no less than your brightness; her lips smile with your lively red. Here, if you please, is her image."

Stooping a little, Argathona caught up the mirror with which the duchess had been playing and held it deftly in front of the beautiful, cruel face. The red blood raced into Esclaramonde's cheeks and ebbed again, leaving her strangely pale.

"Am I your lady-love?" she cried, with that joy in her voice which conquest always brought her.

"You are she I rode to see," Argathona answered, enigmatically.

Esclaramonde gave a little sigh of dissatisfaction.

"Your heel needed a sharper spur; you are a day too late. I am to be married this evening."

Argathona laughed.

"Love you, lady! I am a fellow of adventure, and would never make a hearth-haunting husband. I am here to-day and gone to-morrow. My love is the child of a night."

Esclaramonde's eyes widened and dwindled like a cat's. She was thinking of many times and many nights and many comely men, and she was loath to admit that this stripling should slip through the net of her desires.

"Why, we may find a time by-and-by," she sighed, all enticement.

Argathona shook her head.

"I ride from Athens to-morrow," she began, slowly; then swiftly, with the imperiousness of victory, she ended, "Give me to-night."

The duchess laughed, but the duchess was pleased at the vehemence.

"You are a mad rascal. Am I not to be married this evening?"

Argathona answered her, in a lowered voice:

"There is an old tale of the Theban country, how a beautiful, open-hearted lady would send her lord to sleep in the sipping of a spiced wine, and then talk in the starlight with some lighter, brighter body."

As Argathona spoke a frown grew and deepened on the face of Esclaramonde.

"What are you saying?" she whispered.

"An old tale of Thebes," the dryad replied. "You know not such notions. Yet 'tis a pity. Here is your lord, the unhorsed knight, will be your fellow forever and a day, while I, who overtumbled him, must willy-nilly be gone to-morrow. If he were to sleep to-night how should it harm him? He would not hear us speak in the starlight."

The duchess waved her hand impatiently as if in dismissal.

"You are a mad lad; ride where you will."

"As you please," Argathona replied, "yet I have a toy here I would give to any fair who was gentle with me."

If the duchess was greedy of love, she was greedy also of lovely things.

"What toy?" she cried, eagerly.

Argathona put her hand to her girdle and held out on extended palm a small, perfectly fashioned apple of pure gold.

"This golden apple. See, it is pure gold, and see, writ on it in the Greekish script, 'To the most fair.' This was the globe Paris gave to Venus and set Troy burning. She who has it will ever be deemed the loveliest in the eyes of men. I will give this to you to-night if we talk together in the starlight."

The duchess propped her chin on her palm and meditated. There came before her mind a diverting picture of her late lord, the ancient Duke of Thebes, dozing hoggishly in his corner while she talked with another in the starlight. The young knight of Athens was fair, but very surely this young knight of Eleusis was fairer, and, after all, if he rode away to-morrow there would be an age-long time to pass in the company of Duke Baldwin's son. She decided quickly.

"Well, have your will if I win the golden apple. Come to the west postern of the palace to-night. I will see to it that the door is ajar. Mount the stair when I show a light from the window. Be very sure you bring the apple with you. Farewell."

She extended her hand, which Argathona took and feigned to salute. Then, swiftly, the wood-nymph turned and passed from the silken tent into the meadow. As the dryad came into the liberal air she breathed a great breath. It seemed to the daughter of the forest as if she had escaped from some strange place where subtle poison guising like sweet odor saturated the atmosphere and murdered all wholesome thoughts. She stretched her arms joyously, as one released from cramping labor, and, smiling to think that so far the woodland guile had triumphed, she moved towards her own pavilion. Instantly she was aware that the field which she had expected to find deserted still presented a scene of animation. Duke Baldwin with a little cloud of knights and courtiers about him was slowly tramping towards his palace with an angry gloom upon his countenance, which was reflected in varying shades of obsequious sympathy upon the faces of those who followed him. A little removed from these a gigantic soldier moved slowly across the field, his vacant, honest face overcast with melancholy. Still farther off she could see Simon standing in front of her pavilion, carefully counting gold pieces from one hand into the other and whistling blithely to himself. By the time she had reached her squire Duke Baldwin and his courtiers had disappeared from the field, the gigantic soldier had vanished, and the lists were vacant save for herself and Simon.

XIX

SIMON THE STALWART

When Duke Baldwin, leaving the gallery in no good-humor with the world to ask after his vanquished son, entered the field, he found that his son had arisen and gone to his tent. Rainouart left with Count Ernault the assurance that he was unhurt, that he had been fairly overthrown by the best-planted blow he had ever received, and that his fall was due to no fatigue on his part, but solely to the greater skill of his antagonist. As Duke Baldwin listened frowningly to the phrases of the lord-marshal, he caught sight of a brawny fellow who was lounging in the lists at a little distance from the duke and the courtiers who accompanied him. This was Simon of Rouen, who, seeing that Argathona had been summoned to the pavilion of the Duchess of Thebes, thought he might as well while away the time by stretching his legs over the trampled turf. Even in a bad temper Duke Baldwin had an appreciation of a fine figure in a man, and the sight of Simon's proportions brought a sudden gleam of interest into his angry eyes. He cherished a taste for collecting giants, and he surveyed Simon with the eager appreciation of a possible purchaser. It never occurred to Duke Baldwin to doubt that any man-at-arms could be other than rejoiced to enter his service, just as it never occurred to him to doubt that any lady would be other than pleased to accept his homage.

"Yonder stands a tall fellow," the duke grunted into Count Ernault's ear; "stands he taller and broader than the pick of my body-guard?"

Count Ernault was not enjoying himself. The duke was in a beastly mood and hard to manage, and Count Ernault's elastic urbanity was strained to extreme tension. Desirous to gratify his master, he answered suavely that the fellow bulked big enough, but that he doubted if he surpassed, from toe to top, or from shoulder to shoulder, the mightiest of Duke Baldwin's giants. Duke Baldwin growled uncourteous disbelief in Count Ernault's skill in gauging height and width, not because he really disagreed with him, but because he was in the mood to contradict anything said by anybody, even a compliment to himself. He made his way to Simon and stared critically at him, and Simon supported his gaze composedly, looking into the duke's fierce eyes and longing to try a fall with him, for the duke was a mighty fellow.

"How tall are you, man?" the duke asked, and Simon answered:

"Six feet four, your grace."

"Are you as strong as you look?" was the duke's next question, and Simon smiled as he answered, somewhat ambiguously:

"I don't know how strong I look in your eyes, but whenever I look in a mirror I never take the plain face I see there for the face of a weakling."

Duke Baldwin was hugely strong, and he would have liked nothing better than to make a personal trial of Simon's vigor, if Simon had only been of gentle birth, or if, indeed, the two had been alone. It would not do, however, for Duke Baldwin to indulge in physical competition with a mere man-at-arms in the presence of the nobles, his courtiers, and guests. For an instant the idea came into Baldwin's mind to confer knighthood and title upon the unknown soldier for the sake of indulging his whim, but a moment's reflection warned him, unwilling, that this course would probably be found too eccentric in the eyes of his illustrious companions.

"Bid them send for Harald Haraldson," he said to Count Ernault, and while Count Ernault gave the order to a page, who sped like a greyhound to execute it, Duke Baldwin went on questioning Simon.

"Tell me, friend," he said, "have you seen the pygmies who serve in my body-guard?" Simon grinned.

"I have seen some of the laddies," he answered; "they may grow tall if they live long enough."

"There be some there that are taller than you," the duke answered; "do you think you are strong enough to overcome the smallest and the slightest of them?" Simon shrugged his shoulders.

"I should not like to hurt your gracious play-things," he answered, amiably, "but if you have, as you say, one among them that is taller than I, and broader of breadth, I will be heartily pleased to try a fall with him for the honor of Rouen."

"You have a good conceit of yourself," said the duke, grimly. "My giants are the pick of Europe, but if you will stand by your vaunt, here is your chance," and he pointed to where the little page came skipping back, followed slowly by a man who seemed, indeed, a monster in size and strength. The new-comer, with the fair hair and blue eyes of a Norseman, was, indeed, some four inches taller than Simon, and seemed broader across the shoulders. Simon eyed him approvingly as he came slowly to where the duke stood. The duke spoke with the Norseman.

"Harald Haraldson," he said, "here is a strange soldier who thinks he may prove as strong as you."

A suggestion of a smile for a moment disturbed the bland calm of the northern giant's face, as he answered in execrable French to the effect that the stranger must be a madman. Simon said nothing, and the duke, looking at the pair, felt his confidence in his own soldier swell within him and trumpet triumph.

"Will you try a fall with my partisan?" Duke Baldwin asked, clapping the northern giant confidentially on the shoulder and eying Simon sardonically.

"With all the pleasure in life," Simon answered, briskly.

"I take you at your word," said Duke Baldwin--"at this place, on this instant."

The lists were almost empty, the crowd outside had for the most part dispersed. Captain Fox and Captain Gander, Captain Bat and Captain Chanticleer, Captain Rat and Captain Badger, prowling at the heels of the departing multitude to pick up any little trifles that negligence might let fall, were among the few who noted signs of renewed animation in the enclosed space, and, noting, came again to the barriers and leaned upon them to see what might be towards. Their curiosity found its reward. Duke Baldwin had explained to Harald Haraldson that the French adventurer was willing to try a fall with him, and the Norse giant had looked pityingly upon the French adventurer, who, for his part, was brisk in getting him ready for the coming scuffle.

On the spot the Norseman stripped off his body armor, and in a few seconds the two men stood in their jerkins opposite to each other, while Duke Baldwin and the nobles with him watched hard by in a little group that gradually swelled its numbers as knight after knight emerged unarmored from his tent and joined it. All who were with Duke Baldwin were trained students of men, and to all it appeared patent that the French adventurer was over-matched, not merely in patent height but in no less patent breadth. Duke Baldwin, seeing the two men quiet and silent, waiting to begin, felt some uneasiness of mind. He knew, of course, that his man must win, and he would not have had it otherwise for much, and yet he was sorry to think that a countryman should be bested by the northerner. He again asked Simon if he persisted in his wild challenge, and, on Simon reiterating that he did, the duke, with a scowl of pity for his foolhardiness, gave the signal and the struggle began.

The two men linked their arms each round the other's body, and stood so for some seconds motionless, wedded pillars of mighty flesh. As they waited thus there came into Simon's mind the thought of the last time he had so clasped an adversary, and of his brief contact with the soft flesh of the wood-maiden, and of his unparalleled overthrow. Then the Norseman, obviously surprised by the strength of Simon's clasp, made a strenuous effort to lift Simon from his feet, and found that he might as well have attempted to lift a pillar of the Parthenon. Frank astonishment reigned in the faces of all the spectators, who had been confident that, though the Frenchman showed a sturdy fellow enough, he would be little less than a plaything in the hands of the northern Goliath. But their astonishment deepened into marvel when Simon, striving in turn with no palpable exertion of force, plucked his gigantic adversary from the ground, and, wrenching himself free from his clasp, flung Harald Haraldson heavily to the earth. The Norseman was up in an instant and ready to renew the tussle, but the duke, in a very ill humor, forbade it. This was his second discomfiture that day, and he chafed at it.

"No more," he said; "go your ways, Harald," and as the defeated northerner withdrew, the duke turned again to Simon and offered to take him into his service. Simon shook his head.

"I cannot serve two masters," he said, "and I will not leave the master I serve now."

"Whom do you serve?" the duke asked, and Simon answered:

"I serve the Prince of Eleusis."

For the second time that day the name of the Prince of Eleusis had been associated with the defeat of Duke Baldwin's wish, and it was very plain that his rage longed to interpret itself in furious speech. But the Prince of Eleusis was the conqueror of Rainouart, and under the conditions not to be spoken ill of by Rainouart's father, so swallowing his rage as well as he was able, Duke Baldwin thrust a number of gold pieces into Simon's ready fingers and stamped sulkily away in the direction of his palace, followed in discreet silence by his courtiers and his knights.

XX

THE PROMISE OF RAINOUART

When Simon of Rouen saw Argathona speeding towards him across the meadow, he stopped counting his gold pieces and turned to counting his heart-beats. With every new occasion now of seeing the girl, were it but a few minutes since a parting, his heart must needs drum the same foolish music, to his vexation, yet to his greater vexation he knew that he would not have it otherwise. He had forgotten her mad fancy of immortality; he could never forget her glorious beauty and her glorious strength, and at times the slow thought was forged in the patient stithy of his wits that if in his youth he had met such a mate, Simon of Rouen might now have shown another man than Simon the soldier of fortune with his body soiled with the world's mire and his lips stained with the world's wine. But he kept such thoughts to himself, partly because he would have found it hard to throw them into words, but chiefly because he dreaded that they might peril a friendship which he cherished as his breath. Now as the girl neared him he rose to greet her in a rapture, shovelling Duke Baldwin's gold pieces into his pouch that he might have both hands free to applaud her.

"You have done well, lad," he cried, as she came a-nigh, then hurriedly would have mended the matter, adding, "I should say, you have done well, lass."

Argathona set a finger to her lips and smiled protest.

"You must think of me as a boy, friend," she entreated; "the girl of the greenwood has forgotten her girlhood while she wears this golden gear."

Simon looked contrition for his slip.

"How in Heaven's name did you do it?" he questioned. "You are amazing strong for so slim a strip, but it takes more skill than strength to over-tumble a practised cavalier that had just upset no fewer than seven gallant gentlemen."

"I have little joy in my victory," Argathona answered, sadly, "but the thing had to be, for my lover is bewitched, and it will be hard to win him to his wits again, for as I think none can unspell him save she that has cast the spell."

"That seems a grim task," said Simon, "but in the mean time you have won his horse and armor."

"I build some hopes on that," the girl answered; "help me to disarm," and she passed into the tent, followed by Simon. Scarcely had she begun, however, to peel off her steel when a voice was heard without calling for the Prince of Eleusis. Straightway Simon went into the open, where he found the page of Rainouart at the tent's door, and the heir of Athens standing a little way apart in the meadow. The page bade Simon tell his master that Sir Rainouart, Prince of Athens, was without and desired speech with him. Simon returned to the tent and delivered Rainouart's message, whereupon Argathona bade admit him, and Simon brought Rainouart to her and left her with the young man. Rainouart's eyes were downcast, and it was plain that, strive as he might, he was dejected at his most strange, most unexpected defeat. He broached his business immediately.

"Knight of Eleusis," he began, "you have won the toss, and by the rules of the tourney you have the conqueror's right to my horse and armor. As for the armor it shall be carried to your tent, but for the steed, it was a gift to me from one whose gifts are dear to me"--he sighed a little as he spoke, and Argathona was angry with him and pitied him. "If you will let me ransom it at your hands, I think there is nothing you can ask that the treasury of the Duke of Athens cannot amply answer."

The little red flame of rage that threatened for a moment to sear the heart of Argathona was instantly drowned in a great wave of sorrow for the gallant lad so tragically beguiled. All her womanhood longed to clasp him in her arms and kiss him tenderly, and tell him the truth and her name and renew their loves. But she knew that she would speak in vain. Her clear spirit saw that his eyes were purblind, that his soul was swaddled with sorceries, and that only she who had set the spell upon him could unspell his senses. Sad and frank she addressed him:

"Fair lord, I do not think I could ever have overthrown you if you carried a true heart in your body. Somewhere, I think, some maiden calls you false."

Rainouart's brows clouded.

"It is enough to have overthrown me without finding such shameful reason for my fate. You are my conqueror, with whom it were dishonor to quarrel while my defeat is unredeemed. But when I am quit with you and a new sun reigns in heaven, I shall be very glad to give you the lie. So if you will take ransom for my charger, I pray you to name your price, and I will pay it were it all my estate and all my credit."

Argathona answered the loyal disloyal with an anguish in her voice which he did not understand, being too busy with his own humiliation.