The White Plumes of Navarre: A Romance of the Wars of Religion Read online

  CHAPTER XV.

  MISTRESS CATHERINE

  Upon the return of the Professor and Claire from the river-side to thelittle walled garden and white house of Dame Granier, they found AnthonyArpajon waiting for them. With him was a lady--no, a girl of thirty; theexpression is right. For through the girlish brightness of hercomplexion, and in spite of the quick smile that went and came upon herlips, there pierced the sure determination and settled convictions ofthe adult of a strong race.

  "I am Catherine d'Albret and a cousin of your friend," said the girl; "Ihave a number of followers--brave gentlemen all of them, who have riddenwith me from the south. They are lodging with our friend Anthony here.But I am come to abide with you--if I may. We shall share the same roomand, if you like me, we shall talk the moon across the sky!"

  She held out both her hands, but Claire's shy Scottish blood still heldoff. The Professor came to their assistance.

  "As my lady is a D'Albret," he said, "she must be a cousin-germain toour good Abbe John!"

  The girl smiled, and gave her head a little uplift, half of amusement,half of contempt.

  "Ay, truly," she said, "but we are of different religions. I love notto see a man waste his life on the benches of the Sorbonne; and all forwhat--only to wear a red hat when all is done, like my Uncle ofBourbon!"

  The Professor sighed, and thoughtfully rubbed his brow. Then he smiled,as he answered the girl.

  "Ah," he said, "it is always so with you young people. Here am I whohave spent the best part of my life on these very Sorbonne benches,teaching Eloquence to a party of young jackanapes who had far betterhold their tongues till they have something to say. And for me, nocardinal's hat at the end of all!"

  He sighed a second time, as he added, "Indeed, I know not very wellwhat, after all, is at the end--certainly not their monkish dreams ofhell, purgatory, paradise!"

  The newcomer stepped eagerly forward and laid her hand on his lips."Hush," she said, "you have lost your way. You have wandered in your ownmazes of subtlety, and arrived nowhere. Now we of the Faith will leadyou in the green pastures, beside still but living waters, which yoursoul shall love!"

  The Professor watched the maiden before him a little sadly. Her face wasall aglow with enthusiasm. There was a brilliant light in her eyes.

  "Yes, I shall teach you--I, Catherine of Navarre----"

  There was a noise outside on the quay.

  She turned towards the window to look out. At the first step, a littlehalt in her gait betrayed her. The Professor of Eloquence sank on oneknee.

  "You are Jeanne d'Albret's own daughter," he said, "her very self, as Isaw her a month before the Bartholomew. Even so she spoke--even so shewalked. The Bearnais hath no philosophy other than his sword and theready quip on his tongue. He cares no more for one religion or the otherthan the white plume he carries in the front of battle. But not so you."

  "Henry of Bourbon-Vendome is my brother," said Catherine, "all king, allbrave man. His faults are not mine--nor mine his. I am, as I said, amanifest D'Albret. But Henry holds of Bourbon!"

  The two young maids mounted to their chamber. Madame Granier was alreadythere, ordering the bed-linen for the new guest. The girls stood lookinga long while into each other's faces.

  "You are prettier than I," said Mistress Catherine; "but they tell methat, for all that (and it is saying much), your father made you a gooddaughter of the Religion!"

  "He was indeed all of good and brave and in instruction wise--I fear meI have profited but little!"

  "Ah," said the Princess, "that is as I would expect your father'sdaughter to speak. For the present, I cannot offer you much. I have agreat and serious work to do. But one day you shall be mymaid-of-honour!"

  It is the way of princesses, even of the wisest. But the daughter ofFrancis the Scot was free-born. She only smiled a little, and answered,with her father's quiet dignity of manner, "Then or now, I will doanything for the daughter of Queen Jeanne!"

  "By-and-by, perhaps, you will be willing to do a little for myself,"said the Princess gently, putting out her arms and taking Claire's headupon her shoulder. "We shall love one another well, little one."

  The "little one" was at least four inches taller than the speaker, butsomething must be forgiven to a princess.

  Meantime, Madame Granier had arranged all Mistress Catherine's simplelinen and travelling necessities--the linen strong, white, andcountry-spun, smelling of far-off Navarre, bleached on the meadows bythe brooks that prattle down from the snows. The brushes and combs wereof plain material--no gold or silver about them anywhere. Only in alittle shagreen case rested a silver spoon, a knife, and a two-prongedfork, with a gilt crown upon each. Otherwise the camp-equipment of asimple soldier of the Bearnais could not have been commoner.

  When the hostess had betaken her downstairs, Mistress Catherine drew hernew friend down on a low settle, and holding her hand, began to open outher heart gladly, as if she had long wished for a confidante.

  "I have come to seek my brother," she said; "I expected him here in thishouse. There is a plot to take his life. Guise and D'Epernon both hatehim. And, indeed, both have cause. He is too brave for one--too subtlefor the other. You heard how, at the beginning of this war, he sentmessengers to the Duke of Guise saying, 'I am first prince of theblood--you also claim the throne. Now, to prevent the spilling of muchbrave blood, let us two fight it out to the death!' But Guise merelyanswered that he had no quarrel with his cousin of Navarre, having onlytaken up arms to defend from heresy the Catholic faith--what a coward!"

  "It seems to me," said Claire, "that no man can be a coward who ventureshimself with an angry treacherous king as freely as in his own house."

  "Ah"--the Princess smiled scornfully--"our cousin Guise does not lackcourage of the insolent sort. Witness how on the day of the Barricadeshe extended his kind protection to King Henry III. of Valois in his owncity of Paris, where he had dwelt fourteen years. Nay, he even rode infrom Soissons that he might do it!"

  "You do not love my Lord of Guise?" said Claire. "Yet my father used tocall him the best Huguenot in France, and swear that neither Rosny, norD'Aubigne, nor yet he himself did one half so much service to theBearnais as the Duke of Guise!"

  The King's sister pondered a while upon this.

  "That is perhaps true," she said at last; "Guise is vain, andventuresome because he is vain. He cannot do without shouting crowds,and hands held out to him by every scavenger and pewterer'sapprentice--'Guise--the good Guise!' Pah! The man is no better than aposturer before a booth at a fair!"

  "I have heard almost as much from my father," Claire answered; "he usedto say that Mayenne led the armies, the priests collected the pennies,and as for Guise, he was only the big man who beat the Leaguers' drum!"

  "Your father is dead, they say," murmured the Princess softly; "but inhis time he must have been a man of wit."

  "He taught me all I know," Claire assented, "and he died in the serviceof the Faith and of the King of Navarre."

  "It is strange that I should never have met him," said Catherine. "Ihave heard say he was on mission to my brother."

  "On secret mission," said Claire; "we came often to the camp by night,and were gone in the morning."

  The Princess looked at her junior in great astonishment.

  "Then you have seen camps, and men, and cities?" she asked eagerly.

  "And you, courts!" answered Claire, on her part not a little wistfully.

  A shudder traversed the slender body of the Princess. Her lip curledwith disgust.

  "You speak like a child," she answered hotly. "Why, I tell you, on thehead of my mother, you are safer and better in a camp of German_reiters_ than in any court in Europe. But I forgot--you, at least, canpick and choose. You were not born to be only a pawn in the chess-play.If you do not wish to marry a man, you have only to say him nay. You arenot a princess. I would to God I were not!"

  "What is the plot against your brother?" said Claire, willing to turnher companion from black ideas; "
perhaps I can help. At least, I havewith me one who, though they name him 'fool,' is yet wiser than all themen I have met, excepting only my father."

  "And they name this marvel--what?" demanded the Princess.

  "Jean-aux-Choux--the Fool of the Three Henries."

  Mistress Catherine clapped her hands almost girlishly, forgetting heraccustomed dignity.

  "I have seen him," she cried; "once he came to Nerac, where he pleasedthe Reine Margot greatly. She is a judge of fools!"

  "Our Jean is no fool, really," said Claire, "but born of my nation, anda learned man, very zealous for the Faith."

  "I know--I know," said the Princess; "I have heard D'Aubigne say of him,that folly made the best cloak for unsafe wisdom. As to the designagainst the King, it is this. Before the Duke of Guise comes to theParliament, the Valois will first invite my brother to a conference--nothere in Blois, but nearer his own lines--at Poitiers, perhaps, or atLoches. The Queen-Mother, the Medici woman, though sick and old, hasgathered many of her maids-of-honour. She will strive to work upon myeasy brother with fair words and fair faces, in the hope that, likeJudas, he will betray his Master with a kiss!"

  "I had not thought there could be in all the world such--women!" saidClaire. "After all, our Scottish way is fairer--and that is foot to footand blade to blade!"

  "Even the Valois dagger in the back is better," said the Princess; "butthis Italian woman is cunning, like all her fox-brood of Florentinemoney-lenders! How shall we foil her? It is useless speaking to mybrother. He would only laugh, and bid me get to my sampler till he hadfound a goodman of my own for me to knit hose for!"

  "Let me ask counsel of the Doctor of the Sorbonne who is with me,"Claire urged; "he is very wise, and----"

  "A Doctor of the Sorbonne!" cried Mistress Catherine--"impossible! Why,have they not cursed my brother, excommunicated him? They have eventurned against their own King!"

  "Ay, but," said Claire, now eager to do her friend justice, "_my_ Doctorthey have excommunicated also, because he withstood them in fullSenatus. If he went back to Paris just now, they would hang him in hisgown from the windows of his own class-room!"

  So in this way Doctor Anatole of the Sorbonne entered into the hereticcouncils of the Bearnais. Indeed, his was the idea which came like alightning-flash of illumination upon the councils of Claire and thePrincess Catherine.

  "What of La Reine Margot?" murmured the Professor, as if he had beenspeaking to himself; "is she of her husband's enemies?"

  "Nay--but," began the Princess, "that would be pouring oil upon fire!"

  "Where one fire has burned, there is little fuel for a second,"suggested the Professor sententiously.

  "It is not the highest wisdom," said the careful Princess, "I fear itwould not bring a blessing."

  "It is wisdom--if not the highest, my Lady Catherine," said the learnedDoctor, "and if the matter succeeds--that, for your Cause, will beblessing enough!"

  "Then our Cause is not yours?" Catherine demanded sharply of him. TheProfessor smiled.

  "I am old, or you children think so. I have at least seen the vanity ofpersecuting any man for the thought that is in his heart. I was bred aCatholic, yet have been persecuted by my brethren for differing fromthem. But I agree that most honest folk of the realm are of yourbrother's party--the brave, the wise, the single of eye and heart. Therenever will be a king in France till the Bearnais reigns."

  The Professor spoke with a certain antique freedom, and the Princess,moved with a sudden impulse, laid her hand on his arm.

  "You are with us, then, if not of us?" she said.

  "I am of this young lady's party," smiled the Professor, turning toClaire, who had been listening quietly. There was a look of great lovein his eyes.

  "Then I must needs make sure of her!" said the princess, putting her armabout Claire's waist. "Mistress Claire, vow that you will recruit forour army!"

  "Long ago one made me vow that vow!" said Claire. "I am not likely tobetray the Cause for which my father died!"

  The face of the Princess Catherine grew grave. She was thinking of herown father. Anthony of Bourbon had not made so good an end.

  "I vowed my vow night and morning at my mother's knee," she said. "Thusit was she bade me promise, in these very words--'As I hope for Christ'sdear mercy, I will live and I will die in the Faith given to thefishermen of Galilee. I will cleave to it, despising all other. Everybeliever, rich or poor, shall be my brother or my sister--they allprinces and princesses in Jesus Christ, I only a poor sinner hoping inHis mercy!'"

  The Professor bowed his head, crossed himself instinctively, and said,"Amen to so good a prayer! At the end, it is ever our mother's religionwhich is ours!"