The Court Jester

News traveled very slowly in the fifteenth century, and it was not until they had reached Amboise that the mystery which had so puzzled Marguerite and her friends was explained.

The little Lady Marguerite was received in great state at the palace of Amboise by Anne of Beaujeu, Duchess of Bourbon. This princess was a tall, handsome, and resolute woman. Louis the Eleventh said of her when he named her Regent of France, "She is the least foolish of women," for, being crabbed and disagreeable, he thought all women more or less foolish, but that this stately daughter was the most sensible of her sex.

The clandestine journey of the little princess and her woman was not alluded to by the Duchess of Bourbon, and one would have thought that the escapade of a princess disguised as a peasant was an event of common occurrence.

"And now, Madame," said Marguerite, "perhaps you can tell me why the city of Amboise is draped in cloth of gorgeous colors, and why everywhere is the air of a festival which I can not think is caused by my return."

"Madame," replied Anne of Beaujeu in even tones, "a matter has been kept from you for some days, for to me was assigned the duty of acquainting you with a certain piece of news. It has been deemed best that the marriages between the houses of Austria and France and Austria and Brittany should be broken off, although both France and Brittany have appreciated the honor of the alliance. Therefore, a marriage has taken place between the King of France and the Duchess of Brittany."

"The King of France and the Duchess of Brittany!" exclaimed Marguerite, with flashing eyes. "The King of France was solemnly betrothed to me! Has the treaty of Arras been forgotten? And the King of the Romans, my father, too, has been insulted! Oh, I hate France, I hate every inch of it! And the Lady Anne! Why, she told me that she was to marry my father, that she had accepted safe conduct to Austria! And her eyes were so truthful when she said it. Why should she have deceived me when I trusted her, when I – I – loved her so!"

The wound to her heart was greater than that to her pride, and, covering her face with her hands, the little princess wept.

"The Duchess of Brittany expected to be married to Maximilian of Austria when she talked of the matter to you," said Anne of Beaujeu. "It was but a few days before the marriage that she agreed to accept the King of France, an alliance which she was convinced was for the best interests of her people."

"And what is to become of me?" asked Marguerite.

"You shall be sent in the state suited to your rank back to Austria. I beg your Highness to take the matter more philosophically. I greatly deplore the fact that you should have been thus wounded, but in the great affairs of nations personal concerns must take a second place."

The little princess continued to sob, and all withdrew save the jester, who, kneeling at her feet, said gently, "Little Cousin, when the daughter of Austria is ready to wed, the prince of a greater nation than France may be found for her." Then, assuming a lighter tone, he went on, "And a handsomer husband can be easily found than this stunted king. And think of it, little lady, you will shortly see your father!"

"Ah!" cried Marguerite, dashing away her tears and springing to her feet, while a smile dimpled the corners of her mouth, "I had not thought of that! At last I shall see my father! Happy as a peasant child I shall live under his roof! After all, the good God has been gracious to me and has granted my wish."

"And Antoine and I will go with you, leaving the Lady Clotilde carefully behind," cried Le Glorieux. "The Lady Anne has give me to you, and you see I am still, in another way, the Lady Anne's present!"

CHAPTER V

THE WONDERFUL WISDOM OF PITTACUS

To go away at that moment, to leave the hated soil of France forevermore, was now the ardent desire of the little princess, but even royal ladies can not always do as they would like, and she was made to realize that some days must elapse before it would be possible for her to set out for her own country, where her father and her brother would be waiting for her.

The chief delight of the princess at this time was in listening to the songs of Burgundy as sung by the tuneful voice of Antoine. Anne of Beaujeu entered her apartments one morning when the boy was singing his Burgundian chansons. That cold and dignified lady was quite favorably impressed by the singer's talent, and requested him to sing a well-known French song.

"Madame," said the princess, "I shall be pleased to have my page sing for you anything that you may fancy, but you will pardon me if I leave the room while he sings of the glories of France!" And she walked out with her head held high in the air.

Cunegunda was now utterly happy. Her migraine had been cured, thanks to Saint Roch or to the change of air and scene necessitated by the journey to his shrine, and she was going to return to her beloved country.

"Ah, there is a land governed by a majestic ruler, a man who looks like a sovereign," said she proudly. "But the kings of France, pouf! The old king, who was alive when we came, looked like an old peasant, with his claw-like hands and his awkward legs, and the present one, who in the very bloom of his youth should be ruddy and handsome, has a large head and is undersized and is not at all kingly in appearance."

"But let us think only of the real man shut inside of that unprepossessing shell," said Le Glorieux, adding, "There is that clever sentence again; I was afraid I had forgotten it."

"I do not see anything so very clever about it," retorted Dame Cunegunda; "anybody could have thought it out."

"Anybody might think out things, my good Frau," he replied, "but it is the knowing just when to say them that counts. But I have very bad news for you, and instead of discussing my wonderful gift of always being able to say the right thing at the right time, I really should be bathed in tears."

"Has something dreadful happened to my father? Has news come from Austria?" asked Marguerite, in alarm.

"By no means. Calm yourself, my little princess. The King of the Romans may be at this moment climbing the cliffs to surprise the wary chamois, or he may be defying some unlucky knight to mortal combat in the tournament."

"Then it must have been decided that we are to remain in France," cried Cunegunda. "Oh, unlucky was the day that we ever set foot in this unholy land! I might have known that there was no such good luck for me as to leave it!"

"Now you are preparing to cry," said the jester reproachfully, "and if there is anything in this world I dislike to see it is a woman with her face all wrinkled up ready for a boohoo. Your face is round and rosy, and looks well enough when you let it alone, but ever since I have become acquainted with you, you have been ready to weep at a moment's warning; you have shed at least a barrel of tears, and what good has it done you? Learn a lesson of me and smile at things instead of crying about them."

"I never should want to smile had I so wide a mouth as yours," retorted Cunegunda, forgetting in her indignation that she had not yet learned the news that Le Glorieux had come to tell.

"My mouth is the right width for a man of my height," returned he, "and could not be improved upon. But to return to the matter in hand, I will say right here and now that we are going to sail away as soon as the good ships can be made ready for us."

"Then, what is your news? be not so long about telling it," said Marguerite, knitting her straight brows into a frown.

"It is, alas, alas, that Clotilde is going with us to the domains of your royal grandfather!"

"This is news, indeed. Why must she go?"

"It appears that the new Queen of France, who so cleverly slipped into your place, my little princess, and caught the crown as it was about to settle itself upon your golden head – let me see, where was I?"

"What of the Queen of France?" asked Marguerite.

"Oh, yes; Anne wants a lady of her own kin to accompany you to your native country, to escort you, to watch over you; and Clotilde, you know, is a relative of Anne's, though they are about as much alike as Pandora, my hawk, is like a meek little dove. Nature makes a mistake sometimes and links the wrong people together by the ties of blood; I do not know why, but so it is. I had hoped that the shores of France and the sour face of Clotilde would disappear together from my view, but perfect happiness is possible for no one, and moreover, I never was very lucky."

"If the Lady Clotilde is a relative of the young Queen of France, how does it happen that she has lived so long in Burgundy?" asked Cunegunda.

"My good friend," replied the jester, "you may have forgotten that sometimes even the sourest of women have an opportunity to marry. They manage it, I think, by the aid of witchcraft, and in her youth the sharp black eyes of Clotilde captivated a Burgundian noble who afterward was killed in the wars, and probably was glad of it, considering the life she must have led him."

A number of proverbs have been suggested by the fact that people often appear upon the scene while they are being talked about, and just as he finished his sentence the Lady Clotilde parted the curtains that hung at the doorway. She looked as pleased as her usually stern countenance would permit, and she was accompanied by a boy about fourteen years of age. This boy, afterward Duke of Savoy, and called Philibert the Handsome, was so beautiful that it was a joy to look upon him. The contour of his head, his straight nose, and his well-cut lips were as perfect as if they had been carved from marble by the skillful, loving hand of a sculptor, while his brilliant coloring, his dark and shining eyes, were made still more attractive by the expression of his countenance, which was frank and pleasing. For those days, when men and women vied with each other in the selection of gaudy colors, he was quite plainly clad, wearing a suit of dark velvet with no ornaments whatever.

"I wish to present to your Highness a young relative of mine," announced the Lady Clotilde. "He is Philibert, son of the Count de Bresse of Savoy."

The boy kissed the hand Marguerite extended to him, and the Lady Clotilde continued, "His father is an ally, as your Highness probably knows, of the King of France."

"To gain my favor it is not necessary to be an ally of France," said Marguerite shortly.

"And you are right, Madame," replied the boy quickly. "Were I in my father's place never again would I draw my sword for France, for nations as well as gentlemen should keep their promises."

This reply pleased the princess so much that her heart was won at once, and she smiled brightly upon the boy as Le Glorieux said, "And now tell me, Cousin Clotilde, how this young gentleman happens to be of your kin. He does not resemble you in the least."

"I am not so sure about that," said the lady. "On the contrary, I think that he looks quite as I did at his age, and even now I can trace a great resemblance between his countenance and my own."

"Your eyes are very sharp, my lady, and you possess the gift of seeing things that are visible to no one else," replied the jester.

"So I have been told," she responded, taking the remark as a compliment. "Philibert's mother was a relative of my own, and this is the first time I have seen the lad, who, young as he is, his father takes with him to the wars."

"I wish," said Marguerite shyly, "that your father would ally himself with Austria, since you no longer feel friendly toward France."

Philibert colored with pleasure as he replied, "Indeed, your Highness, I should like it of all things, but my father must do as he thinks best."

"Would you like to go to Austria for a time, Philibert?" asked the Lady Clotilde, who seemed to be in an unusually obliging mood. Then she added, "A visit to a foreign court is of great advantage to a youth of rank, and I will see what I can do to induce your father to allow you to make the journey in my company."

There was no need for the boy to make a reply to this question, his beaming face and sparkling eyes being sufficient to convince any who cared to know that the very thought of such a trip made him happy, and the Lady Clotilde left the room with the words of Le Glorieux ringing in her ears, "She will succeed in her attempt, for those who do not obey our Cousin Clotilde from love do so from fear," a doubtful compliment to which she paid no attention. She was quite pleased with the thought of procuring the companionship of this handsome and gracious boy, who, she felt confident, would reflect great credit upon herself.