The Essential James Branch Cabell Collection. James Branch Cabell

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The Essential James Branch Cabell Collection - James Branch Cabell

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King Edward of happy memory, when he educated you and had you acknowledged heir to the crown, but his love was so strong for his son the Prince of Wales that nothing could alter his purpose. And indeed if you had followed even the example of the Black Prince you might still have been our King; but you have always acted so contrarily to his admirable precedents as to occasion the rumor to be generally believed throughout England that you were not, after all, his son--"

      Richard had turned impatiently. "For the love of Heaven, truncate your abominable periods. Be off with you. Yonder across that river is the throne of England, which you appear, through some lunacy, to consider a desirable possession. Take it, then; for, praise God! the sword has found its sheath."

      The King answered: "I do not ask you to reconsider your dismissal, assuredly--Richard," he cried, a little shaken, "I perceive that until your death you will win contempt and love from every person."

      "Yes, yes, for many years I have been the playmate of the world," said Richard; "but to-day I wash my hands, and set about another and more laudable business. I had dreamed certain dreams, indeed--but what had I to do with all this strife between the devil and the tiger? No, Glyndwyr will set up Mortimer against you now, and you two must fight it out. I am no more his tool, and no more your enemy, my cousin--Henry," he said with quickening voice, "there was a time when we were boys and played together, and there was no hatred between us, and I regret that time!"

      "As God lives, I too regret that time!" the bluff, squinting King replied. He stared at Richard for a while wherein each understood. "Dear fool," Sire Henry said, "there is no man in all the world but hates me saving only you." Then the proud King clapped spurs to his proud horse and rode away.

      More lately Richard dismissed his wondering marauders. Now he and Branwen were alone and a little troubled, since each was afraid of that oncoming moment when their eyes must meet.

      So Richard laughed. "Praise God!" he wildly cried, "I am the greatest fool unhanged!"

      She answered: "I am the happier for your folly. I am the happiest of God's creatures."

      And Richard meditated. "Faith of a gentleman!" he declared; "but you are nothing of the sort, and of this fact I happen to be quite certain." Their lips met then and afterward their eyes; and each of these ragged peasants was too glad for laughter.

      THE END OF THE EIGHTH NOVEL

      IX

      THE STORY OF THE NAVARRESE

      "J'ay en mon cueur joyeusement Escript, afin que ne l'oublie, Ce refrain qu'ayme chierement, C'estes vous de qui suis amye."

      THE NINTH NOVEL.--JEHANE OF NAVARRE, AFTER A WITHSTANDING OF ALL OTHER ASSAULTS, IS IN A LONG DUEL, WHEREIN TIME AND COMMON-SENSE ARE FLOUTED, AND KINGDOMS ARE SHAKEN, DETHRONED AND RECOMPENSED BY AN ENDURING LUNACY.

      _The Story of the Navarrese_

      In the year of grace 1386, upon the feast of Saint Bartholomew (thus Nicolas begins), came to the Spanish coast Messire Peyre de Lesnerac, in a war-ship sumptuously furnished and manned by many persons of dignity and wealth, in order suitably to escort the Princess Jehane into Brittany, where she was to marry the Duke of that province. There were now rejoicings throughout Navarre, in which the Princess took but a nominal part and young Antoine Riczi none at all.

      This Antoine Riczi came to Jehane that August twilight in the hedged garden. "King's daughter!" he sadly greeted her. "Duchess of Brittany! Countess of Rougemont! Lady of Nantes and of Guerrand! of Rais and of Toufon and Guerche!"

      She answered, "No, my dearest,--I am that Jehane, whose only title is the Constant Lover." And in the green twilight, lit as yet by one low-hanging star alone, their lips and desperate young bodies clung, now, it might be, for the last time.

      Presently the girl spoke. Her soft mouth was lax and tremulous, and her gray eyes were more brilliant than the star yonder. The boy's arms were about her, so that neither could be quite unhappy, yet.

      "Friend," said Jehane, "I have no choice. I must wed with this de Montfort. I think I shall die presently. I have prayed God that I may die before they bring me to the dotard's bed."

      Young Riczi held her now in an embrace more brutal. "Mine! mine!" he snarled toward the obscuring heavens.

      "Yet it may be I must live. Friend, the man is very old. Is it wicked to think of that? For I cannot but think of his great age."

      Then Riczi answered: "My desires--may God forgive me!--have clutched like starving persons at that sorry sustenance. Friend! ah, fair, sweet friend! the man is human and must die, but love, we read, is immortal. I am wishful to kill myself, Jehane. But, oh, Jehane! dare you to bid me live?"

      "Friend, as you love me, I entreat you to live. Friend, I crave of the Eternal Father that if I falter in my love for you I may be denied even the one bleak night of ease which Judas knows." The girl did not weep; dry-eyed she winged a perfectly sincere prayer toward incorruptible saints. Riczi was to remember the fact, and through long years of severance.

      For even now, as Riczi went away from Jehane, a shrill singing-girl was rehearsing, yonder behind the yew-hedge, the song which she was to sing at Jehane's bridal feast.

      Sang this joculatrix:

      "When the Morning broke before us Came the wayward Three astraying, Chattering in babbling chorus, (Obloquies of Aether saying),-- Hoidens that, at pegtop playing, Flung their Top where yet it whirls Through the coil of clouds unstaying, For the Fates are captious girls!"

      And upon the next day de Lesnerac bore young Jehane from Pampeluna and presently to Saill, where old Jehan the Brave took her to wife. She lived as a queen, but she was a woman of infrequent laughter.

      She had Duke Jehan's adoration, and his barons' obeisancy, and his villagers applauded her passage with stentorian shouts. She passed interminable days amid bright curious arrasses and trod listlessly over pavements strewn with flowers. She had fiery-hearted jewels, and shimmering purple cloths, and much furniture adroitly carven, and many tapestries of Samarcand and Baldach upon which were embroidered, by brown fingers that time had turned long ago to Asian dust, innumerable asps and deer and phoenixes and dragons and all the motley inhabitants of air and of the thicket; but her memories, too, she had, and for a dreary while she got no comfort because of them. Then ambition quickened.

      Young Antoine Riczi likewise nursed his wound as best he might; but at the end of the second year after Jehane's wedding his uncle, the Vicomte de Montbrison--a gaunt man, with preoccupied and troubled eyes--had summoned Antoine into Lyonnois and, after appropriate salutation, had informed the lad that, as the Vicomte's heir, he was to marry the Demoiselle Gerberge de Nrac upon the ensuing Michaelmas.

      "That I may not do," said Riczi; and since a chronicler that would tempt fortune should never stretch the fabric of his wares too thin (unlike Sir Hengist), I merely tell you these two dwelt together at Montbrison for a decade: and the Vicomte swore at his nephew and predicted this or that disastrous destination as often as Antoine declined to marry the latest of his uncle's candidates,--in whom the Vicomte was of an astonishing fertility.

      In

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