 CHAPTER XIV of Anne of Geyerstein, Volume II by Sir Walter Scott, this LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dion Giants, Celtic City, Utah. For I have given here my full consent to undec the pompous body of a king, make glory base and sovereignty a slave, proud majesty a subject state a peasant. Richard II. The next day opened a grave scene. King Rene had not forgotten to arrange the pleasures of the day when, to his horror and discomforture, Margaret demanded an interview upon serious business. If there was a proposition in the world which Rene from his soul detested, it was any that related to the very name of business. What was it that his child wanted, he said, was it money? He would give her whatever ready sums he had, though he owned, his exchequer was somewhat bare. Yet he had received his income for the season. It was ten thousand crowns. How much should he desire to be paid to her? The half, three parts, or the whole, all was at her command. Alas, my dear father, said Margaret, it is not my affairs but your own, on which I desire to speak with you. If the affairs are mine, said Rene, I am surely master to put them off to another day, to some rainy, dull day, fit for no better purpose. See, my love, the hawking party are all on their steeds and ready. The horses are naying and pying, the gallants and maidens mounted, and ready with hawk on fist, the spaniels struggling in the leash, it were a sin with wind and weather to friend to lose so lovely a morning. Let them ride their way, said Queen Margaret, and find their sport, for the matter I have to speak concerning involves honor and rank, life and means of living. Nay, but I have to hear and judge between Callazon and John of Aqua Mortis, the two most celebrated troubadours. Postponed their cause till tomorrow, said Margaret, and dedicate an hour or two to more important affairs. If you are peremptory, replied King Rene, you are aware, my child, I cannot say you nay. And with reluctance he gave orders for the hawkers to go on and follow their sport, as he could not attend them that day. The old king then suffered himself, like an unwilling greyhound, withheld from the chase to be led into a separate apartment, to ensure privacy, Margaret stationed her secretary, Mordant, with Arthur, in an antechamber, giving them orders to prevent all intrusion. Nay, for myself, Margaret, said the good-natured old man, since it must be, I consent to be put a secret. But why keep old Mordant from taking a walk in this beautiful morning, and why prevent young Arthur from going forth with the rest? I promise you, though they term him a philosopher, yet he showed as light a pair of heels last night, with the young Countess de Boisselin, as any gallant in province. They are come from a country, said Margaret, in which men are trained from infancy to prefer their duty to their pleasure. The poor king, led into the council closet, saw with internal shuttering the fatal cabinet of Ebony, bound with silver, which had never been opened, but to overwhelm him with weariness, and dolefully calculated how many yawns he must strangle ere he sustained the consideration of its contents. They proved, however, when laid before him, of a kind that excited even his interest, though painfully. His daughter presented him with a short and clear view of the debts which were secured on his dominions, and for which they were mortgaged in various pieces and parcels. She then showed him, by another schedule, the large claims of which payment was instantly demanded, to discharge which no funds could be found or assigned. The king defended himself like others in his forlorn situation. To every claim of six, seven, or eight thousand dukots, he replied by the assertion that he had ten thousand crowns in his chancery, and showed some reluctance to be convinced, till repeatedly urged upon him that the same sum could not be adequate to the discharge of thirty times the amount. Then, said the king, somewhat impatiently, why not pay off those who are most pressing, and let the others wait till receipts come round? It is a practice which has been too often resorted to, replied the queen, and it is but a part of honesty to pay creditors who have advanced their all in your grace's service. But are we not, said Rene, king of both the Sicilies, Naples, Aragon, and Jerusalem? And why is the monarch of such fair kingdoms to be pushed to the wall, like a bankrupt yeoman, for a few bags of paltry crowns? You are indeed monarch of these kingdoms, said Margaret, but is it necessary to remind your majesty that it is, but as I am queen of England, in which I have not an acre of land, and cannot command a penny of revenue. You have no dominions which are a source of revenue, save those which you see in this scroll, with an exact list of income they afford. It is totally inadequate, you see, to maintain your state, and to pay the large engagements incurred to former creditors. It is cruel to press me to the wall, thus, said the poor king. What can I do? If I am poor, I cannot help it. I am sure I would pay the debts you talk of if I knew the way. Royal Father, I will show it you. Resign your useless and unavailing dignity, which, with the pretensions attending it, serves but to make your miseries ridiculous. Resign your rights as a sovereign, and the income which cannot be stretched out to the empty excesses of a beggarly court will enable you to enjoy in ease and opulence all the pleasures you most delight in as a private baron. Margaret, you speak folly, answered Rene, somewhat sternly. A king and his people are bound by ties which neither can sever without guilt. My subjects are my flock. I am their shepherd. They are assigned to my governance by heaven, and I dare not renounce the charge of protecting them. Were you in condition to do so, answered the queen, Margaret would bid you fight to the death. But don your harness long disused, mount your war-steed, cry Rene for province, and see if a hundred men will gather round your standard. Your fortresses are in the hands of strangers. Army, you have none. Your vassals may have good will, but they lack all military skill and soldier-like discipline. You stand but the mere skeleton of monarchy, which France or Burgundy may prostrate on the earth, whichever first puts forth his arm to throw it down. The tears trickled fast down the old king's cheeks when this unflattering prospect was set before him, and he could not forbear owning his total want of power to defend himself and his dominions, and admitting that he had often thought of the necessity of compounding for his resignation with one of his powerful neighbors. It was thy interest, Margaret, harsh and severe as you are, which prevented my entering before now into measures most painful to my feelings, but perhaps best calculated for my advantage. But I had hoped it would hold on for my day, and thou, my child, with the talents heaven has given thee, wouldst I thought have found remedy for distresses which I cannot escape, otherwise than by shunning the thoughts of them. If it is in earnest you speak of my interest, said Margaret, know that your resigning province will satisfy the nearest and almost the only wish that my bosom can form. But so judge me, heaven, as it is on your account, gracious sire, as well as mine, that I advise your compliance. Say no more on it, child, give me the parchment of resignation, and I will sign it. I see thou hast it ready drawn. Let us sign it, and then we will overtake the hawkers. We must suffer woe, but there is little need to sit down and weep for it. Do you not ask, said Margaret, surprised at his apathy to whom you cede your dominions? What boots it? answered the king, since they must be no more my own. It must be either to Charles of Burgundy or my nephew Louis, both powerful and politic princes. God send my poor people may have no cause to wish their old man back again, whose only pleasure was to see them happy and mirthful. It is to Burgundy you resign province, said Margaret. I would have preferred him, answered Rene. He is fierce, but not malignant. One word more. Are my subjects privileges and immunities fully secured? Amply replied the queen, and your own wants of all kinds honorably provided for. I would not leave the stipulations in your favor in blank, though I might perhaps have trusted Charles of Burgundy, where money alone is concerned. I ask not for myself, with my vile and my pencil, Rene the troubadour, will be as happy as ever was Rene the king. So saying, with practical philosophy, he whistled the burden of his last composed ariette, and signed away the rest of his royal possessions without pulling off his glove, or even reading the instrument. What is this, he said, looking at another and separate parchment of much briefer contents. Must my kinsmen Charles have both the Sicilies, Catalonia, Naples, and Jerusalem, as well as the poor remainder of province? Me thinks in decency some greater extent of parchment should have been allowed to so ample a session. That deed, said Margaret, only disowns and relinquishes all countenance of Ferrand de Vautamont's rash attempt on Lorraine, and renounces all quarrel on that account against Charles of Burgundy. For once Margaret miscalculated the tractability of her father's temper. Rene positively started, colored, and stammered with passion as he interrupted her. Only disown, only relinquish, only renounce the cause of my grandchild, the son of my dear Yolanda, his rightful claims on his mother's inheritance. Margaret, I am ashamed for thee. Thy pride is an excuse for thy evil temper. But what is pride worth which can stoop to commit an act of dishonorable meanness to desert? Nay, disown my own flesh and blood, because the youth is a bold knight under shield, and disposed to battle for his right. I were worthy that harp and horn wrung out shame on me, should I listen to thee. Margaret was overcome in some measure by the old man's unexpected opposition. She endeavored, however, to show that there was no occasion in point of honor why Rene should engage in the cause of a wild adventurer whose right, be it good, be it bad, was only upheld by some petty and underhand supplies of money from France, and the countenance of a few of the restless bandities who inhabit the borders of all nations. But ere Rene could answer, voices raised to an unusual pitch were heard in the antechamber, the door of which was flung open by an armed knight, covered with dust, who exhibited all the marks of a long journey. Here I am, he said, father of my mother, behold your grandson, Ferrand de Varmont, the son of your lost Yolanda, kneels at your feet, and implores a blessing on him and his enterprise. Thou hast it, replied Rene, and may it prosper with thee, gallant youth, image of thy sainted mother, my blessings, my prayers, my hopes, go with you. And you, fair aunt of England, said the young knight, addressing Margaret, you who are yourself dispossessed by traitors, will you not own the cause of a kinsman who is struggling for his inheritance? I wish all good to your person, fair nephew, answered the Queen of England, although your features are strange to me, but to advise this old man to adopt your cause when it is desperate in the eyes of all wise men were impious madness. Is my cause then so desperate? said Ferrand, forgive me if I was not aware of it, and does my aunt Margaret say this, whose strength of mind supported Lancaster so long after the spirits of her warriors had been quelled by defeat? What, forgive me, for my cause must be pleaded? What would you have said, had my mother Yolanda been capable to advise her father to disown your own Edward, had God permitted him to reach province in safety? Edward, said Margaret, weeping as she spoke, was incapable of desiring his friends to espouse a quarrel that was irremediable. His too was a cause for which mighty princes and peers laid lance in rest. Yet heaven blessed it not, said Vodemont. Thine continued Margaret is but embraced by the robber nobles of Germany, the upstart burgers of the Rhine cities, the paltry and clownish confederates of the Kentons. But heaven has blessed it, replied Vodemont. No proud woman that I come to interrupt your treacherous intrigues, no petty adventurer subsisting and maintaining warfare by slight rather than force, but a conqueror from a bloody field of battle in which heaven has tamed the pride of the tyrant of Burgundy. It is false, said the Queen, starting, I believe it not. It is true, said Vodemont, as true as heaven is above us. It is four days since I left the field of Granson, heaped with Burgundy's mercenaries, his wealth, his jewels, his plate, his magnificent decorations, the prize of the poor Swiss whose scares can tell their value. I know you this, Queen Margaret, continued the young soldier, showing the well-known jewel which decorated the duke's order of the Golden Fleece. Think you not, the lion was closely hunted when he left such trophies as these behind him. Margaret looked with dazzled eyes and bewildered thoughts upon a token which confirmed the duke's defeat and the extinction of her last hopes. Her father, on the contrary, was struck with the heroism of the young warrior, a quality which, except as it existed in his daughter Margaret, had he feared taken leave of his family. Admiring in his heart the youth who exposed himself to danger for the mead of praise, almost as much as he did the poets by whom the warrior's fame is rendered immortal, he hugged his grandson to his bosom, bidding him, gird on his sword in strength, and assuring him if money could advance his affairs, he, King Rene, could command ten thousand crowns any part or the whole of which was at Faran's command, thus giving proof of what had been said of him that his head was incapable of containing two ideas at the same time. He returned to Arthur, who, with the Queen of England's secretary, Mordant, had been not a little surprised by the entrance of the Count de Vautamont, calling himself Duke of Lorraine into the anti-room, in which they kept a kind of guard, followed by a tall, strong swiss with a huge hullbird over his shoulder. The prince naming himself Arthur did not think it becoming to oppose his entrance to the presence of his grandfather and aunt, especially as it was obvious that his opposition must have created an affray in the huge, staring hullbirdeer who had sense enough to remain in the anti-room. Arthur was not a little surprised to recognize Sigismund Biedermann, who, after staring wildly at him for a moment, like a dog which suddenly recognizes a favorite, rushed up to the young Englishman with a wild cry of gladness and in hurried accents told him how happy he was to meet with him and that he had matters of importance to tell him. It was at no time easy for Sigismund to arrange his ideas, and now they were altogether confused by the triumphant joy which he expressed for the recent victory of his countrymen over the Duke of Burgundy, and it was with wonder that Arthur heard his confused and rude but faithful tale. Look you, King Arthur! The Duke had come up with his huge army as far as Granson, which is near the outlet of the Great Lake of Neufchâtel. There were five or six hundred Confederates in the place, and they held it till provisions failed, and then, you know, they were forced to give it over. But though hunger is hard to bear, they had better have borne it a day or two longer, for the Butcher Charles hung them all up by the neck, upon trees round the place, and there was no swallowing for them, you know, after such usage as that. Meanwhile, Al was busy on our hills, and every man that had a sword or lance accoutered himself with it. We met at Neufchâtel, and some Germans joined us with the noble Duke of Lorraine. Ah, King Arthur, there is a leader! We all think him second but to Rudolph of Donnerhugel. You saw him even now. It was he that went into that room, and you saw him before. It is he that was the Blue Knight of Bale. But we called him Lawrence then, for Rudolph said his presence among us must not be known to our father, and I did not know myself at the time who he really was. Well, when we came to Neufchâtel, we were a goodly company. We were fifteen thousand stout confederates, and of others, Germans and Lorraine men, I will warrant you five thousand more. We heard that the Burgundian was sixty thousand in the field, but we heard at the same time that Charles had hung up our brethren like dogs, and the man was not among us, among the confederates. I mean, who would stay to count heads when the question was to avenge them? I would, you could have heard the roar of fifteen thousand Swiss demanding to be led against the butcher of their brethren. My father himself, who you know is usually so eager for peace, now gave the first voice for battle. So in the gray of the morning, we descended the lake towards Granson with tears in our eyes and weapons in our hands, determined to have death or vengeance. We came to a sort of straight between Vox Morot and the lake. There were horse on the level ground between the mountain and the lake, and a large body of infantry on the side of the hill. The Duke of Lorraine and his followers engaged the horse while we climbed the hill to dispossess the infantry. It was with us the affair of a moment. Every man of us was at home among the crags, and Charles's men were stuck among them as thou were't, Arthur, when thou didst first come to Geyerstein. But there were no kind maidens to lend them their hands to help them down. No, no, there were pikes, clubs and halberds, many a one, to dash and thrust them from places where they could hardly keep their feet had there been no one to disturb them. So the horsemen, pushed by the Lorrainers and seeing us upon their flanks, fled as fast as their horses could carry them. Then we drew together again on a fair field, which is Buon Campania, as the Italian says, where the hills retire from the lake. But lo, you, we had scarce arrayed our ranks when we heard such a din and clash of instruments, such a trample of their great horses, such a shouting and crying of men, as if all the soldiers and all the minstrels in France and Germany were striving which should make the loudest noise. Then there was a huge cloud of dust approaching us, and we began to see, we must do or die, for this was Charles and his whole army come to support his vanguard. A blast from the mountain dispersed the dust, for they had halted to prepare for battle. Oh, good Arthur, you would have given ten years of life but to have seen the sight. There were thousands of horse, all in complete array, glancing against the sun, and hundreds of knights with crowns of gold and silver on their helmets, and thick masses of spears on foot and cannon as they call them. I did not know what things they were, which they drew on heavily with bullocks and placed before their army, but I knew more of them before the morning was over. Well, we were ordered to draw up in a hollow square as we are taught at exercise, and before we pushed forwards we were commanded, as is the godly rule and guise of our warfare, to kneel down and pray to God, our Lady and the Blessed Saints. And we afterwards learned that Charles, in his arrogance, thought we asked for mercy, ha, ha, ha, a proper jest, if my father once knelt to him. It was for the sake of Christian blood and godly peace, but on the field of battle Arnold Biedermann would not have knelt to him and his whole chivalry, though he had stood alone with his sons on that field. Well, but Charles, supposing we asked Grace, was determined to show us that we had asked it at a graceless face, for he cried, Fire my cannon on the coward slaves, it is all the mercy they have to expect from me. Bang, bang, bang, off went the things I told you of, like thunder and lightning, and some mischief they did, but the less that we were kneeling, and the Saints doubtless gave the huge balls a hoist over the heads of those who were asking Grace from them, but from no mortal creatures. So we had the signal to rise and rush on, and I promise you there were no sluggards. Every man felt ten men's strength. My helbert is no child's toy, if you have forgotten it, there it is, and yet it trembled in my grasp, as if it had been a willow wand to drive cows with. On we went, when suddenly the cannon was silent, and the earth shook with another, and continued growl and battering, like thunder underground. It was the men at arms rushing to charge us, but our leaders knew their trade, and had seen such a sight before. It was halt, halt, kneel down in the front, stoop in the second rank, close shoulder to shoulder like brethren, lean all spears forward, and receive them like an iron wall. On they rushed, and there was a rending of lances that would have served the underwater old women with splinters of firewood for a twelve month. Down went armed horse, down went a cootered knight, down went banner and bannerman, down went peaked boot and crowned helmet, and of those who fell, not a man escaped with life. So they drew off in confusion, and were getting in order to charge again, when the noble Duke Ferrand and his horsemen dashed at them in their own way, and we moved onward to support him. Thus on we pressed, and the foot hardly waited for us, seeing their cavalry so handled. Then if you had seen the dust, and heard the blows, the noise of a hundred thousand threshers, the flight of the chaff which they drive about, would be but a type of it. On my word I almost thought it shame to dash about my halberd. The route was so helplessly piteous, hundreds were slain unresisting, and the whole army was in complete flight. My father, my father exclaimed Arthur, in such a route what can have become of him? He escaped safely, said the Swiss, fled with Charles. It must have been a bloody field ere he fled, replied the Englishman. Nay, answered Sigismund, he took no part in the fight, but merely remained by Charles, and prisoners said it was well for us, for that he is a man of great counsel and action in the wars. And as to flying, a man in such a matter must go back if he cannot press forward, and there is no shame in it, especially if you be not engaged in your own person. As he spoke thus their conversation was interrupted by Mordant, with hush, hush, the king and queen come forth. What am I to do, said Sigismund, in some alarm? I care not for the Duke of Lorraine, but what am I to do when kings and queens enter? Do nothing but rise, unbonnet yourself, and be silent, Sigismund did as he was directed. King Rene came forth, arm in arm, with his grandson, and Margaret followed, with deep disappointment and vexation, on her brow. She signed to Arthur as she passed, and said to him, Make thyself master of the truth of this most unexpected news, and bring the particulars to me, Mordant will introduce thee. She then cast a look on the young Swiss, and replied courteously to his awkward salutation. The royal party then left the room. Rene bent on carrying his grandson to the sporting party, which had been interrupted, and Margaret to seek the solitude of her private apartment, and await the confirmation of what she regarded as evil tidings. They were no sooner passed than Sigismund observed, and so that is a king and queen. Past, the king looked somewhat like old Jacomo, the violer that used to scrape on the fiddle to us when he came to Geyerstein in his rounds. But the queen is a stately creature. The chief cow of the herd, who carries the bouquets and garlands, and leads the rest to the chalet, has not a statelyer pace, and how deftly you approached her and spoke to her. I could not have done it with so much grace, but it is like you have served apprentice to the court trade. Leave that for the present good Sigismund, answered Arthur, and tell me more of this battle. By St. Mary, but I must have some visuals and drink first, said Sigismund, if your credit in this fine place reaches so far. Doubt it not, Sigismund, said Arthur, and by the intervention of Mordant he easily procured, in a more retired apartment, a collation and wine, to which the young Biedermann did great honor. Smacking his lips with much gusto, after the delicious wines, to which, in spite of his father's aesthetic precepts, his palate was beginning to be considerably formed and habituated. When he found himself alone, with a flask of cote roti, and a biscuit, and his friend Arthur, he was easily led to continue his tale of conquest. Well, where was I? Oh, where we broke their infantry. Well, they never rallied and fell into greater confusion at every step, and we might have slaughtered one half of them had we not stopped to examine Charles' camp. Mercy on us, Arthur, what a sight was there. Every pavilion was full of rich clothes, splendid armor, and great dishes and fluggans, which some men said were of silver. But I knew there was not so much silver in the world, and was sure they must be of pewter, rarely burnished. Here there were hosts of laced lackeys and grooms and pages, and as many attendants as there were soldiers in the army, and thousands, for what I knew, of pretty maidens. By the same token, both menials and maidens placed themselves at the disposal of the victors. But I promise you that my father was right severe on anyone who would abuse the rights of war. But some of our young men did not mind him till he taught them obedience with the staff of his halberd. Well, Arthur, there was fine plundering for the Germans and French that were with us, rifled everything, and some of our men followed the example. It is very catching. So I got into Charles's own pavilion, where Rudolph and some of his people were trying to keep out everyone, that he might have the spoiling of it himself, I think. But neither he nor any Bernese of them all dared lay truncheon over my fate. So I entered, and saw them putting piles of pewter trenchers so clean as to look like silver into chests and trunks. I pressed through them into the inner place, and there was Charles's pallet bed. I will do him justice. It was the only hard one in his camp. And there were fine sparkling stones and pebbles lying about among gauntlets, boots, vambresses, and such like gear. So I thought of your father and you, and looked for something, when what should I see but my old friend hear? Here he drew Queen Margaret's necklace from his bosom, which I knew because you remember I recovered it from the sharp gritter at Brissac. A ho, you pretty sparklers, said I, you shall be Burgundian no longer, but go back to my honest English friends, and therefore it is of immense value, said Arthur, and belongs not to my father or to me, but to the queen you saw but now. And she will become it, rarely answered, Sigismund, were she but a score or a score and a half year younger. She were a gallant wife for a Swiss landholder. I would warrant her to keep his household in high order. She will reward thee liberally for recovering her property, said Arthur, scare suppressing a smile at the idea of the proud Margaret becoming the housewife of a Swiss shepherd. How reward, said the Swiss, bethink thee I am Sigismund Biedermann, the son of the landman of Unterwalden. I am not a base, landsnecked, to be paid for courtesy with piaustras. Let her grant me a kind word of thanks, or the matter of a kiss, and I am well contented. A kiss of her hand, perhaps, said Arthur, again smiling at his friend's simplicity. Umpf, the hand, well it may do for a queen of some fifty years and odd, but would be a poor homage to a queen of May. Arthur here brought back the youth to the subject of his battle and learned that the slaughter of the Duke's forces in the flight had been in no degree equal to the importance of the action. Many wrote off on horseback, said Sigismund, and our German riders flew on the spoil when they should have followed the chase, and besides to speak truth, Charles's camp delayed our very selves in the pursuit. But had we gone half a mile farther and seen our friends hanging on trees, not a confederate would have stopped from the chase while he had limbs to carry him in pursuit. And what has become of the Duke? Charles has retreated into Burgundy like a boar who has felt the touch of the spear and is more enraged than hurt, but is, they say, sad and sulky. Others report that he has collected all his scattered army and immense forces besides and has screwed his subjects to give him money so that we may expect another brush. But all Switzerland will join us after such a victory. And my father is with him, said Arthur. Truly he is, and has in a right godly manner tried to set afoot a treaty of peace with my own father, but it will scare succeed. Charles is as mad as ever, and our people are right proud of our victory, and so they well may. Nevertheless my father forever preaches that such victories and such heaps of wealth will change our ancient manners and that the plowman may leave his labor to turn soldier. He says much about it, but why money, choice, meat and wine and fine clothing should do so much harm I cannot bring my poor brains to see. And many better heads than mine are as much puzzled. Here's to you, friend Arthur. This is choice, liquor. And what brings you and your general Prince Ferrand post to Nancy, said the young Englishman. Faith, you are yourself the cause of our journey. I, the cause, said Arthur. Why, how could that be? Why it is said you and Queen Margaret are urging this old fiddling King Renee to yield up his territories to Charles and to disown Ferrand in his claim upon Lorraine. And the Duke of Lorraine sent a man that you know well, that is, you do not know him, but you know some of his family, and he knows more of you than you want to put a spoke in your wheel and prevent your getting for Charles, the county of Provence, or preventing Ferrand being troubled or traversed in his natural rights over Lorraine. On my word, Sigismund, I cannot comprehend you, said Arthur. Well, replied the Swiss, my lot is a hard one. All our house say that I can comprehend nothing, and I shall be next told that nobody can comprehend me. Well, in plain language, I mean my uncle, Count Albert, as he calls himself, of Geierstein, my father's brother. Anne of Geierstein's father, echoed Arthur. I, truly, I thought we should find some mark to make you know him by. But I never saw him. I, but you have, though an able man he is, and knows more of every man's business than the man does himself. Oh, it was not for nothing that he married the daughter of a salamander. Shaw, Sigismund, how can you believe that nonsense, answered Arthur. Rudolph told me you were as much bewildered as I was that night at Graf's Lust, answered the Swiss. If I were so, I was the greater ass for my pains, answered Arthur. Well, but this uncle of mine has got some of the old conjuring books from the library at Arnhem, and they say he can pass from place to place with more than mortal speed, and that he is helped in his designs by mightier counselors than mere men. Always, however, though so able and highly endowed, his gifts, whether coming from a lawful or unlawful quarter, bring him no abiding advantage. He is eternally plunged into strife and danger. I know few particulars of his life, said Arthur, disguising as much as he could his anxiety to hear more of him. But I have heard that he left Switzerland to join the emperor. True, answered the young Swiss, and married the young Baroness of Arnhem. But afterwards he incurred my namesake's imperial displeasure, and not less that of the Duke of Austria. They say you cannot live in Rome and strive with the Pope. So my uncle thought it best to cross the Rhine, and be take himself to Charles's court, who willingly received noblemen from all countries, so that they had good sounding names, with the title of Count, Marquis, Baron, or such like, to march in front of them. So my uncle was most kindly received. But within this year or two, all this friendship has been broken up. Uncle Albert obtained a great lead in some mysterious societies of which Charles disapproved, and set so hard at my poor uncle that he was feigned to take orders and shave his hair, rather than lose his head. But though he cut off his hair, his brain remains as busy as ever. And although the Duke suffered him to be at large, yet he found him so often in his way that all men believed he waited but an excuse for seizing upon him and putting him to death. But my uncle persisted that he fears not Charles, and that Duke as he is, Charles has more occasion to be afraid of him. And so you saw how boldly he played his part at La Fourette. By St. George of Windsor exclaimed Arthur, the black priest of St. Paul's. Oh ho, you understand me now. Well, he took it upon him that Charles would not dare to punish him for his share in de Hagenbach's death. And no more did he, although Uncle Albert sat and voted in the estates of Burgundy and stirred them up all he could to refuse giving Charles the money he asked of them. But when the Swiss war broke out, Uncle Albert became assured his being a clergyman would be no longer his protection, and that the Duke intended to have him accused of corresponding with his brother and countrymen. And so he appeared suddenly in Farron's camp at Neufchâtel and sent a message to Charles that he renounced his allegiance and bid him defiance. A singular story of an active and versatile man, said the young Englishman. Oh, you may seek the world for a man like Uncle Albert. Then he knows everything. And he told Duke Farron what you were about here and offered to go and bring more certain information. I, though he left the Swiss camp but five or six days before the battle, and the distance between Arles and Neufchâtel be four hundred miles complete, yet he met him on his return when Duke Farron, with me to show him the way, was hastening Hitherward having set off from the very field of battle. Met him, said Arthur. Met whom? Met the black priest of St. Paul's. I, I mean so, replied Sigismund, but he was habited as a Carmelite monk. A Carmelite, said Arthur, a sudden light flashing on him, and I was so blind as to recommend his services to the Queen. I remember well that he kept his face much concealed in his cowl, and I, foolish beast, to fall so grossly into the snare. And yet perhaps it is as well the transaction was interrupted, since I fear, if carried successfully through, all must have been disconcerted by this astounding defeat. Their conversation had thus far proceeded when Mordant, appearing, summoned Arthur to his royal mistress's apartment. In that gay palace, a gloomy room, whose windows looked upon some part of the ruins of the Roman edifice, but excluded every other object, save broken walls, and tottering columns, was the retreat which Margaret had chosen for her own. She received Albert with a kindness, more touching, that it was the inmate of so proud and fiery a disposition, of a heart as sailed with many woes and feeling them severely. Alas, poor Arthur, she said, thy life begins where thy father's threatens to end in useless labor to save as sinking vessel. The rushing leak pours in its waters faster than human force can lighten or discharge. All, all goes wrong when our unhappy cause becomes connected with it. Strength becomes weakness. Wisdom folly and valor cowardice. The Duke of Burgundy, hitherto victorious in all his bold undertakings, has but to entertain the momentary thought of yielding sucker to Lancaster. And behold, his sword is broken by a peasant's flail, and his disciplined army, held to be the finest in the world, flies like chaff before the wind, while their spoils are divided by renegade German hirelings and barbarous alpine shepherds. What more hast thou learned of this strange tale? Little, madam, but what you have heard, the worst additions are that the battle was shamefully cowardlike and completely lost with every advantage to have won it, the best that the Burgundian army has been rather dispersed than destroyed and that the Duke himself has escaped and is rallying his forces in upper Burgundy. To sustain a new defeat, or engage in a protracted and doubtful contest, fatal to his reputation as defeat itself, where is thy father? With the Duke, madam, as I have been informed, replied Arthur, high to him, and say I charge him to look after his own safety and care no further for my interests. This last blow has sunk me. I am without an ally, without a friend, without treasure. So, madam, replied Arthur, one piece of good fortune has brought back to your grace this inestimable relic of your fortunes, and producing the precious necklace he gave the history of its recovery. I rejoice at the chance which has restored these diamonds, said the Queen, that in point of gratitude at least I may not be utterly bankrupt. Carry them to your father. Tell him my schemes are over, and my heart, which so long clung to hope, is broken at last. Tell him the trinkets are his own, and to his own use let him apply them. They will but poorly repay the noble earldom of Oxford lost in the cause of her who sends them. Royal, madam, said the youth, be assured my father would sooner live by service as a Schwartz writer than become a burden on your misfortunes. He never yet disobeyed command of mine, said Margaret, and this is the last I will lay upon him. If he is too rich or too proud to benefit by his Queen's behest, he will find enough of poor Lancastrians who have fewer means or fewer scruples. There is yet a circumstance I have to communicate, said Arthur, and recounted the history of Albert of Geierstein and the disguise of a Carmelite monk. Are you such a fool, answered the Queen, as to suppose this man has any supernatural powers to aid him in his ambitious projects and his hasty journeys? No, madam, but it is whispered that the Count Albert of Geierstein, or this black priest of St. Paul's, is a chief amongst the secret societies of Germany, which even princes dread whilst they hate them. For the man that can command a hundred daggers must be feared even by those who rule thousands of swords. Can this person, said the Queen, being now a churchman, retain authority amongst those who deal in life and death? It is contrary to the cannons. It would seem so, royal madam, but everything in these dark institutions differs from what is practiced in the light of day. Prelates are often heads of a vemic bench, and the Archbishop of Cologne exercises the dreadful office of their chief as Duke of Westphalia, the principal region in which these societies flourish. Such privileges attach to the secret influence of the chiefs of this dark association, as may well seem supernatural to those who are unapprised of circumstances of which men shun to speak in plain terms. Let him be wizard or assassin, said the Queen, I thank him for having contributed to interrupt my plan of the Old Man's Session of Provence, which, as events stand, would have stripped Rene of his dominions without furthering our plan of invading England. Once more, be stirring with the dawn, and bend thy way back to thy father, and charge him to care for himself, and think no more of me. Britain, where the air of Lancaster resides, will be the safest place of refuge for its bravest followers. Along the Rhine, the invisible tribunal, it would seem haunts both shores, and to be innocent of ill is no security. Even here the proposed treaty with Burgundy may take error, and the Provence Coe carry daggers as well as crooks and pipes, but I hear the horses fast returning from the Hawking Party, and the silly Old Man forgetting all the eventful proceedings of the day, whistling as he ascends the steps. Well, we will soon part, and my removal will be, I think, a relief to him. Prepare for banquet and ball, for noise and nonsense, above all, to bid adieu to eggs with mourning dawn. Thus dismissed from the Queen's presence, Arthur's first care was to summon Tybalt to have all things in readiness for his departure, his next to prepare himself for the pleasures of the evening, not perhaps so heavily affected by the failure of his negotiation as to be incapable of consolation in such a scene. For the truth was that his mind secretly revolted at the thoughts of the simple Old King being despoiled of his dominions to further an invasion of England, in which whatever interest he might have in his daughter's rights, there was little chance of success. If such feelings were censurable, they had their punishment, although few knew how completely the arrival of the Duke of Lorraine and the intelligence he brought with him had disconcerted the plans of Queen Margaret. It was well known that there had been little love betwixt the Queen and his mother Yolanda, and the young Prince found himself at the head of a numerous party in the court of his grandfather, who disliked his aunt's haughty manners, and were worried by the unceasing melancholy of her looks and conversation, and her undisguised contempt of the frivolities which passed around her. For on besides Ouang, handsome, a victor just arrived from a field of battle, fought gloriously, and gained against all chances to the contrary, that he was a general favorite and excluded Arthur Phillipson as an adherent of the unpopular queen from the notas her influence had on a former evening procured him was only a natural consequence of their relative condition. But what somewhat hurt Arthur's feelings was to see his friend Sigismund the simple, as his brethren called him, shining with the reflected glory of the Duke Ferrand of Lorraine, who introduced to all the ladies present the gallant young Swiss as Count Sigismund of Geyerstein. His care had procured for his follower a dress rather more suitable for such a scene than the country attire of the Count, otherwise Sigismund Biedermann. For a certain time, whatever of novelty is introduced into society is pleasing, though it has nothing else to recommend it. The Swiss were little known personally out of their own country, but they were much talked of. It was a recommendation to be of that country. Sigismund's manners were blunt, a mixture of awkwardness and rudeness, which was termed frankness during the moment of his favor. He spoke bad French and worse Italian. It gave naivety to all he said. His limbs were too bulky to be elegant. His dancing for Count Sigismund failed not to dance was the bounding and gambling of a young elephant. Yet they were preferred to the handsome proportions and courtly movements of the youthful Englishman, even by the black eyed Countess in whose good graces Arthur had made some progress on the preceding evening. Arthur, thus thrown into the shade, felt as Mr. Peppas afterwards did when he tore his camelot cloak. The damage was not great, but it troubled him. Nevertheless, the passing evening brought him some revenge. There are some works of art, the defects of which are not seen, till they are injudiciously placed in too strong a light, and such was the case with Sigismund the simple. The quick-witted, though fantastic, proven caw, soon found out the heaviness of his intellect and the extent of his good nature and amused themselves at his expense by ironical compliments and well-veiled railery. It is probable they would have been less delicate on the subject had not the Swiss brought into the dancing room along with him, his eternal halberd, the size and weight and thickness of which boated little good to anyone whom the owner might detect in the act of making merry at his expense. But Sigismund did no further mischief that night, except that in achieving a superb entourage, he alighted with his whole weight on the miniature foot of his pretty partner, which he well nigh crushed to pieces. Arthur had hitherto avoided looking towards Queen Margaret during the course of the evening, lest he should disturb her thoughts from the channel in which they were rolling by seeming to lay a claim on her protection. But there was something so whimsical in the awkward physiognomy of the maladroit Swiss that he could not help glancing an eye to the alcove where the Queen's chair of state was placed to see if she observed him. The very first view was such as to rivet his attention. Margaret's head was reclined on the chair, her eyes scarcely open, her features drawn up and pinched, her hands closed with effort. The English lady of honor who stood behind her, old, deaf and dim-sighted, had not discovered anything in her mistress's position more than the abstracted and indifferent attitude with which the Queen was want to be present in body and absent in mind during the festivities of the Provencal Court. But when Arthur, greatly alarmed, came behind the seat to press her attention to her mistress, she exclaimed after a minute's investigation, mother of heaven, the Queen is dead. And it was so. It seemed that the last fiber of life in that fiery and ambitious mind had, as she herself prophesied, given way at the same time with the last thread of political hope. End of Chapter 14 Said. Chapter 15 of Anne of Geyerstein, Volume 2 by Sir Walter Scott. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Dion Giants, Salt Lake City, Utah. Toll, toll the bell, greatness is o'er, the heart has broke, to ache no more, an unsubstantial pageant all drop o'er the scene the funeral-paul, old poem. The commotion and shrieks of fear and amazement, which were excited among the ladies of the court by an event so singular and shocking, had begun to abate. And the size more serious, though less intrusive, of the few English attendants of the deceased Queen, began to be heard, together with the groans of old King Renée, whose emotions were as acute as they were short-lived. The leeches had held a busy but unavailing consultation, and the body that was once a Queen's was delivered to the priest of Saint Sauvère, that beautiful church in which the spoils of pagan temples have contributed to fill up the magnificence of the Christian edifice. The stately pile was duly lighted up, and the funeral provided with such splendor as eggs could supply. The Queen's papers being examined, it was found that Margaret, by disposing of jewels and living at small expense, had realized the means of making a decent provision for life for her very few English attendants. Her diamond necklace, described in her last will as in the hands of an English merchant, named John Philipson, or his son, or the price thereof, if by them sold or pledged, she left to the said John Philipson and his son Arthur Philipson with a view to the prosecution of the design which they had been destined to advance. Or if that should prove impossible to their own use and profit, the charge of her funeral rites was wholly entrusted to Arthur, called Philipson, with a request that they should be conducted entirely after the forms observed in England. This trust was expressed in an addition to her will, signed the very day on which she died. Arthur lost no time in dispatching Tybalt expressed to his father with a letter explaining, in such terms as he knew would be understood, the tenor of all that had happened since he came to eggs, and above all, the death of Queen Margaret. Finally he requested directions for his motions since the necessary delay occupied by the obsequies of a person of such eminent rank must detain him at eggs till he should receive them. The Old King sustained the shock of his daughter's death so easily that on the second day after the event he was engaged in arranging a pompous procession for the funeral and composing an elegy to be sung to a tune also of his own composing, in honor of the deceased Queen who was likened to the goddesses of heathen mythology, and to Judith, Deborah, and all the other holy women, not to mention the saints of the Christian dispensation. It cannot be concealed that when the first burst of grief was over, King Rene could not help feeling that Margaret's death cut a political knot which he might have otherwise found it difficult to untie, and permitted him to take open part with his grandson so far indeed as to afford him a considerable share of the contents of the Provencal Treasury which amounted to no larger sum than ten thousand crowns. Ferrand, having received the blessing of his grandfather in a form which his affairs rendered most important to him, returned to the Resolutes whom he commanded, and with him, after a most loving farewell to Arthur, went the stout but simple-minded young Swiss Sigismund Biedermann. The little court of Acts were left to their mourning. King Rene, for whom ceremonial and show, whether of a joyful or melancholy character, was always matter of importance, would willingly have bestowed on solemnizing the obsequies of his daughter Margaret, what remained of his revenue, but was prevented from doing so partly by remonstrances from his ministers, partly by the obstacles opposed by the young Englishman who, acting upon the presumed will of the dead, interfered to prevent any such fantastic exhibitions being produced at the obsequies of the queen as had disgusted her during her life. The funeral, therefore, after many days had been spent in public prayers and acts of devotion, was solemnized with the mournful magnificence due to the birth of the deceased, and with which the Church of Rome so well knows how to affect at once the eye, ear, and feelings. Amid the various nobles who assisted on the solemn occasion, there was one who arrived just as the tolling of the great bells of Saint Savire had announced that the procession was already on its way to the cathedral. The stranger hastily exchanged his traveling dress for a suit of deep mourning, which was made after the fashion proper to England, so attired he repaired to the cathedral where the noble Meehan of the Cavalier imposed such respect on the attendants that he was permitted to approach close to the side of the beer, and it was across the coffin of the queen for whom he had acted and suffered so much that the gallant earl of Oxford exchanged a melancholy glance with his son. The assistance, especially the English servants of Margaret, gazed on them both with respect and wonder, and the elder Cavalier in particular seemed to them no unappered representative of the faithful subjects of England, paying their last duty at the tomb of her who had so long swayed the scepter, if not faultlessly, yet always with a bold and resolved hand. The last sound of the solemn dirge had died away, and almost all the funeral attendants had retired when the father and son still lingered in mournful silence beside the remains of their sovereign. The clergy at length approached, and intimated they were about to conclude the last duties by removing the body which had been lately occupied and animated by so haughty and restless a spirit to the dust, darkness, and silence of the vault where the long descended counts of province awaited dissolution. Six priests raised the beer on their shoulders, others bore huge wax and torches before and behind the body as they carried it down a private staircase which yawned in the floor to admit their dissent. The last notes of their requiem in which the churchmen joined had died away along the high and fretted arches of the cathedral. The last flash of light which arose from the mouth of the vault had glimmered and disappeared when the Earl of Oxford, taking his son by the arm, led him in silence forth into a small cloistered court behind the building where they found themselves alone. They were silent for a few minutes for both, and particularly the father were deeply affected. At length the Earl spoke, and this then is her end, said he. Here, royal lady, all that we have planned and pledged life upon falls to pieces with thy dissolution. The heart of resolution, the head of policy is gone, and what avails it that the limbs of the enterprise still have motion and life? Alas, Margaret of Anjou, may heaven reward thy virtues and absolve thee from the consequence of thine errors, both belonged to thy station, and if thou didst hoist too high a sail in prosperity, never lived their princes, who defied more proudly the storms of adversity, or bore up against them with such dauntless nobility of determination. With this event the drama has closed, and our parts my son are ended. We bear arms then against the infidels, my lord, said Arthur, with a sigh that was, however, hardly audible. Not answered the Earl until I learn that Henry of Richmond, the undoubted heir of the House of Lancaster, has no occasion for my services. In these jewels of which you wrote me, so strangely lost and recovered, I may be able to supply him with resources more needful than either your services or mine. But I return no more to the camp of the Duke of Burgundy, for in him there is no help. Can it be possible that the power of so great a sovereign has been overthrown in one fatal battle? said Arthur. By no means, replied his father, the loss at Granson was very great, but to the strength of Burgundy it is but a scratch on the shoulders of a giant. It is the spirit of Charles himself, his wisdom at least, and his foresight, which have given way under the mortification of a defeat by such as he accounted inconsiderable enemies and expected to have trampled down with a few squadrons of his men at arms, then his temper is become froward, peevish, and arbitrary, devoted to those who flatter, and, as there is too much reason to believe, betray him, and suspicious of those counsellors who give him wholesome advice. Even I have had my share of distrust. Thou knowest I refused to bear arms against our late host, the Swiss, and he saw in that no reason for rejecting my attendance on his march. But since the defeat of Granson I have observed a strong and sudden change, owing perhaps in some degree to the insinuations of Campo Basso, and not a little to the injured pride of the Duke, who was unwilling that an indifferent person in my situation and thinking as I do should witness the disgrace of his arms. He spoke in my hearing of lukewarm friends, cold-blooded neutrals, of those who, not being with him, must be against him. I tell thee, Arthur Devere, the Duke has said that which touched my honour so nearly that nothing but the commands of Queen Margaret and the interests of the House of Lancaster could have made me remain in his camp. That is over. My royal mistress has no more occasion for my poor services. The Duke can spare no aid to our cause, and, if he could, we can no longer dispose of the only bribe which might have induced him to afford us suckers. The power of seconding his views on province is buried with Margaret of Anjou. What, then, is your purpose, demanded his son? I propose, said Oxford, to wait at the court of King Renee, until I can hear from the Earl of Richmond as we must still call him. I am aware that banished men are rarely welcome at the court of a foreign prince, but I have been the faithful follower of his daughter Margaret. I only propose to reside in disguise and desire neither notice nor maintenance. So, me thinks King Renee will not refuse to permit me to breathe the air of his dominions until I learn in what direction fortune or duty shall call me. Be assured, he will not, answered Arthur. Renee is incapable of a base or ignoble thought, and if he could despise trifles, as he detests dishonor, he might be ranked high in the list of monarchs. This resolution being adopted, the son presented his father at King Renee's court, whom he privately made acquainted that he was a man of quality and a distinguished Lancastrian. The good king would in his heart have preferred a guest of lighter accomplishments and gayer temper to Oxford, a statesman and a soldier of melancholy and grave habits. The Earl was conscious of this, and seldom troubled his benevolent and light-hearted host with his presence. He had, however, an opportunity of rendering the old king a favour of peculiar value. This was in conducting an important treaty betwixt Renee and Louis XI of France, his nephew. Upon that crafty monarch, Renee finally settled his principality, for the necessity of extricating his affairs by such a measure was now apparent even to himself. Every thought of favouring Charles of Burgundy in the arrangement having died with Queen Margaret, the policy and wisdom of the English Earl, who was entrusted with almost the sole charge of this secret and delicate measure, were of the utmost advantage to good King Renee, who was freed from personal and pecuniary vexations and enabled to go piping and tabbering to his grave. Louis did not fail to propitiate the plenipotentiary by throwing out distant hopes of aid to the efforts of the Lancastrian party in England. A faint and insecure negotiation was entered into upon the subject, and these affairs which rendered two journeys to Paris necessary on the part of Oxford and his son in the spring and summer of the year 1476 occupied them until that year was half spent. In the meanwhile, the wars of the Duke of Burgundy with the Swiss cantons and Count Ferrand of Lorraine continued to rage. Before mid-summer 1476, Charles had assembled a new army of at least 60,000 men supported by 150 pieces of cannon for the purpose of invading Switzerland, where the warlike Mountaineers easily levied a host of 30,000 Swissers, now accounted almost invincible, and called upon their Confederates, the free cities on the Rhine, to support them with a powerful body of cavalry. The first efforts of Charles were successful. He overran the pays de Vaud and recovered most of the places which he had lost after the defeat at Granson, but instead of attempting to secure a well defended frontier or what would have been still more politic to achieve a peace upon equitable terms with his redoubtable neighbors. This most obstinate of princes resumed the purpose of penetrating into the recesses of the Alpine mountains and chastising the Mountaineers even within their own strongholds, though experience might have taught him the danger, nay desperation of the attempt. Thus the news received by Oxford and his son when they returned to X in mid-summer was that Duke Charles had advanced to Morat or Merton situated upon a lake of the same name at the very entrance of Switzerland. Here, reports said that Adrian de Bubenberg, a veteran knight of Bern, commanded and maintained the most obstinate defense in expectation of the relief which his countrymen were hastily assembling. Alas, my old brother in arms said the earl to his son on hearing these tidings, this town besieged, these assaults repelled, this vicinity of an enemy's country, this profound lake, these inaccessible cliffs threaten as second part of the tragedy of Granson, more calamitous perhaps than even the former. On the last week of June the capital of province was agitated by one of those unauthorized yet generally received rumors which transmit great events with incredible swiftness as an apple flung from hand to hand by a number of people will pass a given space infinitely faster than if born by the most rapid series of expresses. The report announced a second defeat of the Burgundians in terms so exaggerated as induced the earl of Oxford to consider the greater part, if not the whole, as a fabrication.