Quentin Durward
Sir Walter Scott
CHAPTER XXXII: THE INVESTIGATION Page 2
"I did not so entertain them, fair cousin," answered the King. "Out of compassion, indeed, I received them in privacy, but took an early opportunity of placing them under the protection of the late excellent Bishop, your own ally, and who was (may God assoil him!) a better judge than I, or any secular prince, how to reconcile the protection due to fugitives with the duty which a king owes to his ally, from whose dominions they have fled. I boldly ask this young lady whether my reception of them was cordial, or whether it was not, on the contrary, such as made them express regret that they had made my Court their place of refuge?"
"So much was it otherwise than cordial," answered the Countess, "that it induced me, at least, to doubt how far it was possible your Majesty should have actually given the invitation of which we had been assured, by those called themselves your agents, since, supposing them to have proceeded only as they were duly authorized, it would have been hard to reconcile your Majesty's conduct with that to be expected from a king, a knight, and a gentleman."
The Countess turned her eyes to the King as she spoke, with a look which was probably intended as a reproach, but the breast of Louis was armed against all such artillery. On the contrary, waving slowly his expanded hands, and looking around the circle, he seemed to make a triumphant appeal to all present, upon the testimony borne to his innocence in the Countess's reply.
Burgundy, meanwhile, cast on him a look which seemed to say, that if in some degree silenced, he was as far as ever from being satisfied, and then said abruptly to the Countess, "Methinks, fair mistress, in this account of your wanderings, you have forgot all mention of certain love passages. -- So, ho, blushing already? -- Certain knights of the forest, by whom your quiet was for a time interrupted. Well -- that incident hath come to our ear, and something we may presently form out of it. -- Tell me, King Louis, were it not well, before this vagrant Helen of Troy (the wife of Menelaus. She was carried to Troy by Paris, and thus was the cause of the Trojan War), or of Croye, set more Kings by the ears, were it not well to carve out a fitting match for her?"
King Louis, though conscious what ungrateful proposal was likely to be made next, gave a calm and silent assent to what Charles said; but the Countess herself was restored to courage by the very extremity of her situation. She quitted the arm of the Countess of Crevecoeur, on which she had hitherto leaned, came forward timidly, yet with an air of dignity, and kneeling before the Duke's throne, thus addressed him "Noble Duke of Burgundy, and my liege lord, I acknowledge my fault in having withdrawn myself from your dominions without your gracious permission, and will most humbly acquiesce in any penalty you are pleased to impose. I place my lands and castles at your rightful disposal, and pray you only of your own bounty, and for the sake of my memory, to allow the last of the line of Croye, out of her large estate, such a moderate maintenance as may find her admission into a convent for the remainder of her life."
"What think you, Sire, of the young person's petition to us," said the Duke, addressing Louis.
"As of a holy and humble motion," said the King, "which doubtless comes from that grace which ought not to be resisted or withstood."
"The humble and lowly shall be exalted," said Charles. "Arise, Countess Isabelle -- we mean better for you than you have devised for yourself. We mean neither to sequestrate your estates, nor to abase your honours, but, on the contrary, will add largely to both."
"Alas! my lord," said the Countess, continuing on her knees, "it is even that well meant goodness which I fear still more than your Grace's displeasure, since it compels me --"
"Saint George of Burgundy!" said Duke Charles, "is our will to be thwarted, and our commands disputed, 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.
"And wherefore that alteration?" said the Duke.
"Because I began to suspect the fidelity of my guide," answered Quentin.
"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."
"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 whetI 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!"