Luxembourg and of Gueldres; Earl of Flanders and of Artois; Count Palatine of Hainault, of Holland, Zealand, Namur, and Zutphen; Marquis of the Holy Empire; Lord of Friezeland, Salines, and Malines, do give you, Louis, King of France, openly to know, that you having refused to remedy the various griefs, wrongs, and offences, done and wrought by you, or by and through your aid, suggestion, and instigation, against the said Duke and his loving subjects, he, by my mouth, renounces all allegiance and fealty towards your crown and dignity – pronounces you false and faithless; and defies you as a Prince, and as a man. There lies my gage, in evidence of what I have said.'
So saying, he plucked the gauntlet off his right hand, and flung it down on the floor of the hall.
Until this last climax of audacity, there had been a deep silence in the royal apartment during the extraordinary scene; but no sooner had the clash of the gauntlet, when cast down, been echoed by the deep voice of Toison d'Or, the Burgundian herald, with the ejaculation, 'Vive Bourgogne!' than there was a general tumult. While Dunois, Orleans, old Lord Crawford, and one or two others, whose rank authorized their interference, contended which should lift up the gauntlet, the others in the hall exclaimed, 'Strike him down! Cut him to pieces! Comes he here to insult the King of France in his own palace!'
But the King appeased the tumult by exclaiming, in a voice like thunder, which overawed and silenced every other sound, 'Silence, my lieges! lay not a hand on the man, not a finger on the gage! – And you, Sir Count, of what is your life composed, or how is it warranted, that you thus place it on the cast of a die so perilous? Or is your Duke made of a different metal from other princes, since he thus asserts his pretended quarrel in a manner so unusual?'
'He is indeed framed of a different and more noble metal than the other princes of Europe,' said the undaunted Count of Crevecoeur; 'for, when not one of them dared to give shelter to you – to you, I say, King Louis – when you were yet only Dauphin, an exile from France, and pursued by the whole bitterness of your father's revenge, and all the power of his kingdom, you were received and protected like a brother by my noble master, whose generosity of disposition you have so grossly misused. Farewell, Sire, my mission is discharged.'
So saying, the Count de Crevecoeur left the apartment abruptly, and without farther leave-taking.
'After him – after him – take up the gauntlet and after him!' said the King. – 'I mean not you, Dunois, nor you, my Lord of Crawford, who, methinks, may be too old for such hot frays; nor you, Cousin of Orleans, who are too young for them. – My Lord Cardinal – my Lord Bishop of Auxerre – it is your holy office to make peace among princes; – do you lift the gauntlet, and remonstrate with Count Crevecoeur on the sin he has committed, in thus insulting a great Monarch in his own Court, and forcing us to bring the miseries of war upon his kingdom and that of his neighbour.'
Upon this direct personal appeal, the Cardinal Balue proceeded to lift the gauntlet, with such precaution as one would touch an adder, – so great was apparently his aversion to this symbol of war, – and presently left the royal apartment to hasten after the challenger.
Louis paused and looked round the circle of his courtiers, most of whom, except such as we have already distinguished, being men of low birth, and raised to their rank in the King's household for other gifts than courage or feats of arms, looked pale on each other, and had obviously received an unpleasant impression from the scene which had been just acted. Louis gazed on them with contempt, and then said aloud, 'Although the Count of Crevecoeur be presumptuous and overweening, it must be confessed that in him the Duke of Burgundy hath as bold a servant as ever bore message for a prince. I would I knew where to find as faithful an Envoy to carry back my answer.'
'You do your French nobles injustice, Sire,' said Dunois; 'not one of them but would carry a defiance to Burgundy on the point of his sword.'
'And, Sire,' said old Crawford, 'you wrong also the Scottish gentlemen who serve you. I, or any of my followers, being of meet rank, would not hesitate a moment to call yonder proud Count to a reckoning; my own arm is yet strong enough for the purpose, if I have but your Majesty's permission.'
'But your Majesty,' continued Dunois, 'will employ us in no service through which we may win honour to ourselves, to your Majesty, or to France.'
'Say, rather,' said the King, 'that I will not give way, Dunois, to the headlong impetuosity, which, on some punctilio of chivalry, would wreck yourselves, the throne, France, and all. There is not one of you who knows not how precious every hour of peace is at this moment, when so necessary to heal the wounds of a distracted country; yet there is not one of you who would not rush into war on account of the tale of a wandering gipsy, or of some errant demosel, whose reputation, perhaps, is scarce higher. – Here comes the Cardinal, and we trust with more pacific tidings. – How now, my Lord – have you brought the Count to reason and to temper?'
'Sire,' said Balue, 'my task hath been difficult. I put it to yonder proud Count, how he dared to use towards your Majesty, the presumptuous reproach with which his audience had broken up, and which must be understood as proceeding, not from his master, but from his own isolence, and as placing him therefore in your Majesty's discretion, for what penalty you might think proper.'
'You said right,' replied the King; 'and what was his answer?'
'The Count,' continued the Cardinal, 'had at that moment his foot in the stirrup, ready to mount; and, on hearing my expostulation, he turned his head without altering his position. 'Had I,' said he, 'been fifty leagues distant, and had heard by report that a question vituperative of my Prince had been asked by the King of France, I had, even at that distance, instantly mounted, and returned to disburden my mind of the answer which I gave him but now.''
'I said, sirs,' said the King, turning around, without any show of angry emotion, 'that in the Count Philip of Crevecoeur, our cousin the Duke possesses as worthy a servant as ever rode at a prince's right hand. – But you prevailed with him to stay?'
'To stay for twenty-four hours; and in the meanwhile to receive again his gage of defiance,' said the Cardinal: 'he has dismounted at the Fleur-de-Lys.'
'See that he be nobly attended and cared for, at our charges,' said the King; 'such a servant is a jewel in a prince's crown. – Twenty-four hours?' he added, muttering to himself, and looking as if he were stretching his eyes to see into futurity; 'twenty-four hours? – 'tis of the shortest. Yet twenty-four hours, ably and skilfully employed, may be worth a year in the hand of indolent or incapable agents. – Well. – To the forest – to the forest, my gallant lords! – Orleans, my fair kinsman, lay aside that modesty, though it becomes you; mind not my Joan's coyness. The Loire may as soon avoid mingling with the Cher, as she from favouring your suit, or you from preferring it,' he added, as the unhappy prince moved slowly on after his betrothed bride. 'And now for your boar-spears, gentlemen; for Allegre, my pricker, hath harboured one that will try both dog and man. – Dunois, lend me your spear, – take mine, it is too weighty for me; but when did you complain of such a fault in your lance? – To horse – to horse, gentlemen.'
And all the chase rode on.
CHAPTER IX. THE BOAR-HUNT.
I will converse with unrespective boys
And iron-witted fools. None are for me
That look into me with suspicious eyes.
All the experience which the Cardinal had been able to collect of his master's disposition, did not, upon the present occasion, prevent his falling into a great error of policy. His vanity induced him to think that he had been more successful in prevailing upon the Count of Crevecoeur to remain at Tours, than any other moderator whom the King might have employed, would, in all probability, have been. And as he was well aware of the importance which Louis attached to the postponement of a war with the Duke of Burgundy, he could not help showing that he conceived himself to have rendered the King great and acceptable service. He pressed nearer to the King's person than he was wont to do, and endeavoured to engage him in conversation on the events of the morning.
This was injudicious in more respects than one; for princes love not to see their subjects approach them
