The dryad a novel
no more; he was just for that moment a good knight on a good horse,
with a good lance in hand ready to do battle with all the world for
the sake of a woman. Scarcely did he recall the familiar features of
Esclaramonde; in his mind, as in his challenge, he was fighting for the
rose of the world, but the rose was the rose of the lovely legend, the
unfound flower.
Now knight after knight came forth from his pavilion and mounted his
horse to do battle, and knight after knight went down before the
conquering lance of young Athens. Guy de Hainault, Jaufre de Brabant,
Ambrose of Blois, Gaston of Nîmes, Raymond of Provence, Demetrius
of Epirus, and Andronicus Palæologus, each had his own fair lady,
star of his life or star of the hour, to tilt for, and each in turn
sustained defeat, and Rainouart remained invincible. The populace
huzzaed, courtiers applauded demonstratively, Duke Baldwin grinned
like a pleased hyena, the ladies of the discomfited tried to smile
through tears, and the face of Esclaramonde shone with pride, for she
had snared a rare mate. As for Rainouart, he thought not of her; his
thoughts were only of the joy of strife and the delight of victory. He
was fighting for an ideal; he could not give it name, but it seemed to
fill the air with the scent and the color of roses.
Brimmed with the wine of exultation, he waited at his end of the lists
after the overthrow of Andronicus Palæologus to see if any other
champion would stand against his challenge. There was only one knight
left of all the chivalry then in Athens who could hope to contend
against him. That knight was Fernand Ximenes, and Rainouart hoped to
see him advance. But Fernand Ximenes kept his tent, for he had his
own thoughts and purposes concerning the Duchess of Thebes, and he
wished to whisper later in her ear that he could not for the life of
him challenge her supremacy. So Rainouart waited for a little in his
place, a splendid image of steel upon a splendid horse, unquestioned
master of the lists. All the spectators, gentle and simple, believed
that the day was over, the field fought and won. Rainouart, thinking
as they thought, was about to ride forward to receive the wreath of
golden violets from the hand of Duke Baldwin when a great shout from
the crowd without the barriers, and a murmur that ran along the
galleries, stayed his purpose. Then he, with all the rest, became aware
of the presence of a new challenger in the lists. A knight in gilded
armor, with an acorn for his device, had emerged from a pavilion at the
farthest end of the field, and after mounting a white horse which was
held in waiting by a burly squire, had ridden slowly to the challenging
station. The new-comer's visor was raised, and the spectators beheld
a little of a young and beautiful face, very noble in an unfamiliar
fairness of feature, of a pale favor delicately colored. But what most
won all were the stranger's eyes of lively blue, which made many a
woman wish to see her own countenance mirrored in them.
Duke Baldwin leaned forward on his throne in some surprise at the
sudden presence; his rugged, bull face flushed with wonder. Count
Ernault, after reading the new-comer's shield, whispered to a herald,
and the herald proclaimed that the Prince of Eleusis desired to break
a lance with the Prince of Athens on the question of his challenge. At
this unexpected announcement Esclaramonde, who had bent forward to look
at the new-comer and noted how slight he seemed, and youthful, leaned
back again with a disdainful smile, though her ready senses quickened
at the sight of the youth's beauty. Sympathetic smiles rippled all
along the galleries, and many in the crowd beyond laughed derisively,
though none that could see the stranger's face denied its marvellous
grace. Duke Baldwin called to Count Ernault, who approached his throne.
"Who is this strange knight?" he said. "I have not heard of any Prince
of Eleusis."
"Sire," the lord-marshal answered, "this is a young stripling of Greece
who claims descent from an ancient Grecian line. For my own part, I
know little or nothing of the race which it pleases your grace to rule,
yet because he seemed of gentle blood and carried himself so fairly, I
saw no reason to deny him a presence in the lists. Your grace, however,
who, knowing all things, doubtless knows intimately the genealogy of
every Greek his vassal, will be able to set me right if I have erred in
this instance, but for myself I thought it better to stretch a point
rather than perchance in denying to attain undoubted gentility."
Duke Baldwin frowned. His son was thus far the victor; the Lady
Esclaramonde thus far proclaimed peerless. One never could tell what
might come of an unexpected challenge. Yet Duke Baldwin, who, in spite
of the omniscience attributed to him by his flattering marshal, was
well aware in his heart that he knew nothing whatever about the people
whom he held subject by an iron hand, was very unwilling to infringe
courteous chivalry in the case of one who might be a gentleman of old
descent. So with the ferocious distortion of countenance which was Duke
Baldwin's conception of a smile, he approved the lord-marshal's action.
"It were shame," he declared, "if ever noble gentleman were denied to
ride in lists opened by me. But here I think decision must rest with
our son. If he elect to meet this stranger knight, your Prince of
Eleusis has our willing leave to joust in this tourney. But tell our
son that as he has fought to-day only with knights of known lineage
and bearings, he is free if it please him to deny this Grecian, and to
remain the unquestioned victor of the day."
The lord-marshal hastened to where Rainouart waited, and made him aware
of the conditions under which a new player had come into the game, and
of Duke Baldwin's decision in the matter. Rainouart answered instantly
that he was in no way breathed or weakened by what had gone, that it
would be strange, indeed, for him to deny any challenger, and that he
would take the stranger's word for his gentility. Straightway Count
Ernault sped to where Argathona waited, mounted on her white horse,
and, after acquainting her with the cause of the delay, made her free
of the duke's permission to tilt.
Nobody in all that vast concourse had watched these parleyings with
more interest than the Duchess Esclaramonde of Thebes. Her heart had
been dancing all manner of joyous measures at the success of her
betrothed. As knight after knight went down before Rainouart, her eyes
brightened and her spirits sang, for all was in her honor, and she
knew, rejoicing in her knowledge, that every woman present envied her.
The sudden apparition of an unexpected challenger could not affect her
triumph. The cavalier who had so triumphantly overcome seven of the
gallantest knights in Duke Baldwin's gallant court was scarcely like
to have his supremacy menaced by a stripling of Greece. Yet in spite
of herself, this apparition of this unexpected challenger, unknown to
her, unknown to Athens, unknown to Athens's duke, seemed mysteriously
to threaten her confidence, and her cheek burned with anger against the
fair-faced stranger as she watched the preliminaries of the combat.
The trumpets sounded, and instantly the opposing knights rushed one
against the other, swift as warring winds. In full centre of the
tilt-yard the white horse and the black horse came wellnigh head to
head. Rainouart's spear was aimed a thought too high as it seemed,
and slid over the shoulder of his opponent while the lance of Eleusis
struck fair and square at the breast-plate of the Athenian prince, and
the next moment the black horse was sweeping riderless down the lists,
and Duke Baldwin's son was lying on the grass. While a great groan came
from all beholders at this fall, the Knight of Eleusis, galloping to
the end of the lists, turned at the barrier and rode back again to draw
rein with visor exalted in front of the royal pavilion.
When Duke Baldwin saw his son fall, he gripped his sceptre in both
hands so fiercely that it bent in his fingers as if it had been a waxen
candle, and his whole soul groaned in travail because he could think
of no oath horrible enough with which to express his mortification.
Esclaramonde for her part hid her burning face behind her fan and
dreamed incredible tortures for the victor. However, there was nothing
for it but acceptance of the result of the combat, and, while assiduous
squires helped the fallen prince to his feet, Duke Baldwin took from
the cushion held by a page at his side the golden wreath, and extended
it to the Knight of Eleusis, who received it on the point of the lance.
Hardly articulate, Duke Baldwin gasped out that the wreath was the
victor's, and that his was the privilege to crown whom so he pleased in
that presence queen of the day. Immediately the stranger, shifting a
little in the saddle, extended the lance dexterously poised so that the
golden wreath swung just in front of the face of Esclaramonde. A little
sob of joy came from the duchess's lips.
"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.