Quentin Durward by Walter Scott (popular ebook readers .txt) 📗

Charles of Burgundy and Earl of Flanders, to know, in my master's name, that under favour of a dispensation of our Holy Father of Rome, presently expected, and appointing a fitting substitute ad sacra [to the sacred office], he proposes to exercise at once the office of Prince Bishop, and maintain the rights of Count of Croye.”

The Duke of Burgundy, at this and other pauses in the herald's speech, only ejaculated, “Ha!” or some similar interjection, without making any answer; and the tone of exclamation was that of one who, though surprised and moved, is willing to hear all that is to be said ere he commits himself by making an answer. To the further astonishment of all who were present, he forbore from his usual abrupt and violent gesticulations, remaining with the nail of his thumb pressed against his teeth, which was his favourite attitude when giving attention, and keeping his eyes bent on the ground, as if unwilling to betray the passion which might gleam in them.

The envoy, therefore, proceeded boldly and unabashed in the delivery of his message. “In the name, therefore, of the Prince Bishop of Liege, and Count of Croye, I am to require of you, Duke Charles, to desist from those pretensions and encroachments which you have made on the free and imperial city of Liege, by connivance with the late Louis of Bourbon, unworthy Bishop thereof.”

“Ha,” again exclaimed the Duke.

“Also to restore the banners of the community, which you took violently from the town, to the number of six and thirty—to rebuild the breaches in their walls, and restore the fortifications which you tyrannically dismantled—and to acknowledge my master, William de la Marck, as Prince Bishop, lawfully elected in a free Chapter of Canons, of which behold the proces verbal.”

“Have you finished?” said the Duke.

“Not yet,” replied the envoy. “I am farther to require your Grace, on the part of the said right noble and venerable Prince, Bishop, and Count, that you do presently withdraw the garrison from the Castle of Bracquemont, and other places of strength, belonging to the Earldom of Croye, which have been placed there, whether in your own most gracious name, or in that of Isabelle, calling herself Countess of Croye, or any other, until it shall be decided by the Imperial Diet whether the fiefs in question shall not pertain to the sister of the late Count, my most gracious Lady Hameline, rather than to his daughter, in respect of the jus emphyteusis [a permanent tenure of land upon condition of cultivating it properly, and paying a stipulated rent; a sort of fee farm or copyhold].”

“Your master is most learned,” replied the Duke.

“Yet,” continued the herald, “the noble and venerable Prince and Count will be disposed, all other disputes betwixt Burgundy and Liege being settled, to fix upon the Lady Isabelle such an appanage as may become her quality.”

“He is generous and considerate,” said the Duke, in the same tone.

“Now, by a poor fool's conscience,” said Le Glorieux apart to the Count of Crevecoeur, “I would rather be in the worst cow's hide that ever died of the murrain than in that fellow's painted coat! The poor man goes on like drunkards, who only look to the ether pot, and not to the score which mine host chalks up behind the lattice.”

“Have you yet done?” said the Duke to the herald.

“One word more,” answered Rouge Sanglier, “from my noble and venerable lord aforesaid, respecting his worthy and trusty ally, the most Christian King.”

“Ha!” exclaimed the Duke, starting, and in a fiercer tone than he had yet used; but checking himself, he instantly composed himself again to attention.

“Which most Christian King's royal person it is rumoured that you, Charles of Burgundy, have placed under restraint contrary to your duty as a vassal of the Crown of France, and to the faith observed among Christian Sovereigns. For which reason, my said noble and venerable master, by my mouth, charges you to put his royal and most Christian ally forthwith at freedom, or to receive the defiance which I am authorized to pronounce to you.”

“Have you yet done?” said the Duke.

“I have,” answered the herald, “and await your Grace's answer, trusting it may be such as will save the effusion of Christian blood.”

“Now, by Saint George of Burgundy!” said the Duke, but ere he could proceed farther, Louis arose, and struck in with a tone of so much dignity and authority that Charles could not interrupt him.

“Under your favour, fair cousin of Burgundy,” said the King, “we ourselves crave priority of voice in replying to this insolent fellow.—Sirrah herald, or whatever thou art, carry back notice to the perjured outlaw and murderer, William de la Marck, that the King of France will be presently before Liege, for the purpose of punishing the sacrilegious murderer of his late beloved kinsman, Louis of Bourbon; and that he proposes to gibbet De la Marck alive, for the insolence of terming himself his ally, and putting his royal name into the mouth of one of his own base messengers.”

“Add whatever else on my part,” said Charles, “which it may not misbecome a prince to send to a common thief and murderer.—And begone!—Yet stay.—Never herald went from the Court of Burgundy without having cause to cry, Largesse!—Let him be scourged till the bones are laid bare.”

“Nay, but if it please your Grace,” said Crevecoeur and D'Hymbercourt together, “he is a herald, and so far privileged.”

“It is you, Messires,” replied the Duke, “who are such owls as to think that the tabard makes the herald. I see by that fellow's blazoning he is a mere impostor. Let Toison d'Or step forward, and question him in your presence.”

In spite of his natural effrontery, the envoy of the Wild Boar of Ardennes now became pale; and that notwithstanding some touches of paint with which he had adorned his countenance. Toison d'Or, the chief herald, as we have elsewhere said, of the Duke, and King at arms within his dominions, stepped forward with the solemnity of one who knew what was due to his office, and asked his supposed brother in what college he had studied the science which he professed.

“I was bred a pursuivant at the Heraldic College of Ratisbon,” answered Rouge Sanglier, “and received the diploma of Ehrenhold [a herald] from that same learned fraternity.”

“You could not derive it from a source more worthy,” answered Toison d'Or, bowing still lower than he had done before; “and if I presume to confer with you on the mysteries of our sublime science, in obedience to the orders of the most gracious Duke, it is not in hopes of giving, but of receiving knowledge.”

“Go to,” said the Duke impatiently. “Leave off ceremony, and ask him some question that may try his skill.”

“It were injustice to ask a disciple of the worthy College of Arms at Ratisbon if he comprehendeth the common terms of blazonry,” said Toison d'Or, “but I may, without offence, crave of Rouge Sanglier to say if he is instructed in the more mysterious and secret terms of the science, by which the more learned do emblematically, and as it were parabolically, express to each other what is conveyed to others in the ordinary language, taught in the very accidence as it were of Heraldry.”

“I understand one sort of blazonry as well as another,” answered Rouge Sanglier boldly, “but it may be we have not the same terms in Germany which you have here in Flanders.”

“Alas, that you will say so!” replied Toison d'Or. “our noble science, which is indeed the very banner of nobleness and glory of generosity, being the same in all Christian countries, nay, known and acknowledged even by the Saracens and Moors. I would, therefore, pray of you to describe what coat you will after the celestial fashion, that is, by the planets.”

“Blazon it yourself as you will,” said Rouge Sanglier; “I will do no such apish tricks upon commandment, as an ape is made to come aloft.”

“Show him a coat and let him blazon it his own way,” said the Duke; “and if he fails, I promise him that his back shall be gules, azure, and sable.”

“Here,” said the herald of Burgundy, taking from his pouch a piece of parchment, “is a scroll in which certain considerations led me to prick down, after my own poor fashion, an ancient coat. I will pray my brother, if indeed he belong to the honourable College of Arms at Ratisbon, to decipher it in fitting language.”

Le Glorieux, who seemed to take great pleasure in this discussion, had by this time bustled himself close up to the two heralds. “I will help thee, good fellow,” said he to Rouge Sanglier, as he looked hopelessly upon the scroll. “This, my lords and masters, represents the cat looking out at the dairy window.”

This sally occasioned a laugh, which was something to the advantage of Rouge Sanglier, as it led Toison d'Or, indignant at the misconstruction of his drawing, to explain it as the coat of arms assumed by Childebert, King of France, after he had taken prisoner Gandemar, King of Burgundy; representing an ounce, or tiger cat, the emblem of the captive prince, behind a grating, or, as Toison d'Or technically defined it, “Sable, a musion [a tiger cat; a term of heraldry] passant Or, oppressed with a trellis gules, cloue of the second.”

“By my bauble,” said Le Glorieux, “if the cat resemble Burgundy, she has the right side of the grating nowadays.”

“True, good fellow,” said Louis, laughing, while the rest of the presence, and even Charles himself, seemed disconcerted at so broad a jest.

“I owe thee a piece of gold for turning some thing that looked like sad earnest into the merry game, which I trust it will end in.”

“Silence, Le Glorieux,” said the Duke; “and you, Toison d'Or, who are too learned to be intelligible, stand back—and bring that rascal forward, some of you.—Hark ye, villain,” he said in his harshest tone, “do you know the difference between argent and or, except in the shape of coined money?”

“For pity's sake, your Grace, be good unto me!—Noble King Louis, speak for me!”

“Speak for thyself,” said the Duke. “In a word, art thou herald or not?”

“Only for this occasion!” acknowledged the detected official.

“Now, by Saint George!” said the Duke, eyeing Louis askance, “we know no king—no gentleman—save one, who would have so prostituted the noble science on which royalty and gentry rest, save that King who sent to Edward of England a serving man disguised as a herald.”

[The heralds of the middle ages were regarded almost as sacred characters. It was treasonable to strike a herald, or to counterfeit the character of one. Yet Louis “did not hesitate to practise such an imposition when he wished to enter into communication with Edward IV of England.... He selected, as an agentfit for his purpose, a simple valet. This man... he disguised as a herald, with all the insignia of his office, and sent him in that capacity to open a communication with the English army. The stratagem, though of so fraudulent a nature, does not seem to have been necessarily called for, since all that King Louis could gain by it would be that he did not commit himself by sending a more responsible messenger. ... Ferne... imputes this intrusion on their rights in some degree to necessity. 'I have heard some,' he says, '... allow of the action of Louis XI who had so unknightly a regard both of his own honour, and also of armes, that he seldom had about his court any officer at armes. And therefore, at such time as Edward IV, King of England,... lay before the town of Saint Quentin, the same French King, for want of a herald to carry his mind to the English King, was constrained to suborn a vadelict, or common serving man, with a trumpet banner, having a hole made through the middest for this preposterous herauld to put his head through, and to cast it over his shoulders instead of a better coat armour of France. And thus came this hastily arrayed courier as a counterfeit officer at armes, with instructions from his sovereign's mouth to offer peace to our King.' Ferne's Blazen of Gentry, 1586, p. 161.—S.]

“Such a stratagem,” said Louis, laughing, or affecting to laugh, “could only be justified at a Court where no herald were at the time, and when the emergency was urgent. But, though it might have passed on the blunt and thick witted islander, no one with brains a whit better than those of a wild boar would have thought of passing such a trick upon the accomplished Court of Burgundy.”

“Send him