Quentin Durward by Walter Scott (romantic love story reading TXT) 📕

at every turn? Up, I say, minion, and withdraw for the present—when we have time to think of thee, we will so order matters that, Teste Saint Gris! you shall either obey us, or do worse.”

Notwithstanding this stern answer, the Countess Isabelle remained at his feet, and would probably, by her pertinacity, have driven him to say upon the spot something yet more severe, had not the Countess of Crevecoeur, who better knew that Prince's humour, interfered to raise her young friend, and to conduct her from the hall.

Quentin Durward was now summoned to appear, and presented himself before the King and Duke with that freedom, distant alike from bashful reserve and intrusive boldness, which becomes a youth at once well born and well nurtured, who gives honour where it is due but without permitting himself to be dazzled or confused by the presence of those to whom it is to be rendered. His uncle had furnished him with the means of again equipping himself in the arms and dress of an Archer of the Scottish Guard, and his complexion, mien, and air suited in an uncommon degree his splendid appearance. His extreme youth, too, prepossessed the councillors in his favour, the rather that no one could easily believe that the sagacious Louis would have chosen so very young a person to become the confidant of political intrigues; and thus the King enjoyed, in this, as in other cases, considerable advantage from his singular choice of agents, both as to age and rank, where such election seemed least likely to be made. At the command of the Duke, sanctioned by that of Louis, Quentin commenced an account of his journey with the Ladies of Croye to the neighbourhood of Liege, premising a statement of King Louis's instructions, which were that he should escort them safely to the castle of the Bishop.

“And you obeyed my orders accordingly,” said the King.

“I did, Sire,” replied the Scot.

“You omit a circumstance,” said the Duke. “You were set upon in the forest by two wandering knights.”

“It does not become me to remember or to proclaim such an incident,” said the youth, blushing ingenuously.

“But it doth not become me to forget it,” said the Duke of Orleans. “This youth discharged his commission manfully, and maintained his trust in a manner that I shall long remember.—Come to my apartment, Archer, when this matter is over, and thou shalt find I have not forgot thy brave bearing, while I am glad to see it is equalled by thy modesty.”

“And come to mine,” said Dunois. “I have a helmet for thee, since I think I owe thee one.”

Quentin bowed low to both, and the examination was resumed. At the command of Duke Charles he produced the written instructions which he had received for the direction of his journey.

“Did you follow these instructions literally, soldier?” said the Duke.

“No; if it please your Grace,” replied Quentin. “They directed me, as you may be pleased to observe, to cross the Maes near Namur; whereas I kept the left bank, as being both the nigher and the safer road to Liege.”

“And wherefore that alteration?” said the Duke.

“Because I began to suspect the fidelity of my guide,” answered Quentin.

“Now mark the questions I have next to ask thee,” said the Duke. “Reply truly to them, and fear nothing from the resentment of any one. But if you palter or double in your answers I will have thee hung alive in an iron chain from the steeple of the market house, where thou shalt wish for death for many an hour ere he come to relieve you!”

There was a deep silence ensued. At length, having given the youth time, as he thought, to consider the circumstances in which he was placed, the Duke demanded to know of Durward who his guide was, by whom supplied, and wherefore he had been led to entertain suspicion of him. To the first of these questions Quentin Durward answered by naming Hayraddin Maugrabin, the Bohemian; to the second, that the guide had been recommended by Tristan l'Hermite; and in reply to the third point he mentioned what had happened in the Franciscan convent near Namur, how the Bohemian had been expelled from the holy house, and how, jealous of his behaviour, he had dogged him to a rendezvous with one of William de la Marck's lanzknechts, where he overheard them arrange a plan for surprising the ladies who were under his protection.

“Now, hark,” said the Duke, “and once more remember thy life depends on thy veracity, did these villains mention their having this King's—I mean this very King Louis of France's authority for their scheme of surprising the escort and carrying away the ladies?”

“If such infamous fellows had said,” replied Quentin, “I know not how I should have believed them, having the word of the King himself to place in opposition to theirs.”

Louis, who had listened hitherto with most earnest attention, could not help drawing his breath deeply when he heard Durward's answer, in the manner of one from whose bosom a heavy weight has been at once removed. The Duke again looked disconcerted and moody, and, returning to the charge, questioned Quentin still more closely, whether he did not understand, from these men's private conversation, that the plots which they meditated had King Louis's sanction?

“I repeat that I heard nothing which could authorize me to say so,” answered the young man, who, though internally convinced of the King's accession to the treachery of Hayraddin, yet held it contrary to his allegiance to bring forward his own suspicions on the subject; “and if I had heard such men make such an assertion, I again say that I would not have given their testimony weight against the instructions of the King himself.”

“Thou art a faithful messenger,” said the Duke, with a sneer, “and I venture to say that, in obeying the King's instructions, thou hast disappointed his expectations in a manner that thou mightst have smarted for, but that subsequent events have made thy bull headed fidelity seem like good service.”

“I understand you not, my lord,” said Quentin Durward, “all I know is that my master King Louis sent me to protect these ladies, and that I did so accordingly, to the extent of my ability, both in the journey to Schonwaldt, and through the subsequent scenes which took place. I understood the instructions of the King to be honourable, and I executed them honourably; had they been of a different tenor, they would not have suited one of my name or nation.”

“Fier comme an Ecossois,” said Charles, who, however disappointed at the tenor of Durward's reply, was not unjust enough to blame him for his boldness. “But hark thee, Archer, what instructions were those which made thee, as some sad fugitives from Schonwaldt have informed us, parade the streets of Liege, at the head of those mutineers, who afterwards cruelly murdered their temporal Prince and spiritual Father? And what harangue was it which thou didst make after that murder was committed, in which you took upon you, as agent for Louis, to assume authority among the villains who had just perpetrated so great a crime?”

“My lord,” said Quentin, “there are many who could testify that I assumed not the character of an envoy of France in the town of Liege, but had it fixed upon me by the obstinate clamours of the people themselves, who refused to give credit to any disclamation which I could make. This I told to those in the service of the Bishop when I had made my escape from the city, and recommended their attention to the security of the Castle, which might have prevented the calamity and horror of the succeeding night. It is, no doubt, true that I did, in the extremity of danger, avail myself of the influence which my imputed character gave me, to save the Countess Isabelle, to protect my own life, and, so far as I could, to rein in the humour for slaughter, which had already broke out in so dreadful an instance. I repeat, and will maintain it with my body, that I had no commission of any kind from the King of France respecting the people of Liege, far less instructions to instigate them to mutiny; and that, finally, when I did avail myself of that imputed character, it was as if I had snatched up a shield to protect myself in a moment of emergency, and used it, as I should surely have done, for the defence of myself and others, without inquiring whether I had a right to the heraldic emblazonments which it displayed.”

“And therein my young companion and prisoner,” said Crevecoeur, unable any longer to remain silent, “acted with equal spirit and good sense; and his doing so cannot justly be imputed as blame to King Louis.”

There was a murmur of assent among the surrounding nobility, which sounded joyfully in the ears of King Louis, whilst it gave no little offence to Charles. He rolled his eyes angrily around; and the sentiments so generally expressed by so many of his highest vassals and wisest councillors, would not perhaps have prevented his giving way to his violent and despotic temper, had not De Comines, who foresaw the danger, prevented it, by suddenly announcing a herald from the city of Liege.

“A herald from weavers and nailers!” exclaimed the Duke. “But admit him instantly. By Our Lady, I will learn from this same herald something farther of his employers' hopes and projects than this young French Scottish man at arms seems desirous to tell me!”