It befell, after we had dwelt three years in Paris, and my Duchess was just turned of fifteen, that there was tumult at the court. King Charles the Well-beloved, whose fits of madness caused so much havoc (owing to the mischief wrought by his uncles when he was too ill of mind and body to rule himself) was again out of his mind.
The Seigneur de la Rivière, whom my Duchess had ever loved since he had arranged her marriage and fetched her to Paris to my Lord the Duc de Berry, was, by the order of the Duc de Burgundy, seized and held to die. His friends, lest they too should suffer for’t, feared to help him. The King, as hath been said, was ill; the Queen cared not what happened so long as she was not irked. But my Duchess clenched her little hand and saith,—
“He shall not die!”
Just how to serve him she knew not; so she cometh to her Lord, the Duc de Berry, and cast herself on her knees before him.
“Oh, dear my lord,” cried she, sobbing, “this man who hath done no wrong, and whom we know and love, must die, since none but I durst speak for him.”
The Duc, who loved her well, raised her and saith,—
“Take comfort, dear one.”
“But, my Lord, what comfort is there for me, when one who gave me happiness and thee, is in danger of his life, and for no wrongdoing, neither?”
“Dear heart,” answered my Lord the Due, “I too love him, since he brought thee to me, and what man can do, that will I for thy sake and his.”
“If he be not saved, then will I sorrow always,” wept my Duchess.
My Lord Duc went forth, and though the King was only at times come to his wits again, my Lord got from him a command that the Seigneur de la Rivière should be sent overseas, and not slain.
This did but half content my mistress. When the King grew well again, my Duchess plead with him so prettily, that as he loved right well to pleasure her, he allowed the Seigneur de la Rivière to come home, and to him restored all his castles and his wealth. Greatly my mistress rejoiceth, and giveth thanks to both her Lord and the King.
Now the Seigneur, when once more in honour and in wealth he came to his home, in token for his thanks for all she had wrought in his behalf, brought to my mistress a coffer filled with rich gifts. The coffer was in itself a marvel, since it was painted all over with little flying boys, who bore in their hands flowers and wreaths. All the rest of it was like unto gold, and it stood upon four feet cut in the shape of great paws.
When the coffer was opened, there seemeth no end to the splendid things my mistress brought forth,—tissues glistening like moonbeans, wrought stuffs of many colours, and chains and jewels. Chiefest amongst the rich treasures was a length of velvet from the great city called Genoa, the mate to which was not in all the court. It was blue in colour, the which my mistress ever loveth,—just the shade of the sky of a sunny day at noon. Wrought all over it in threads of purest silver were flying doves. My faith, it seemeth as if their long wings fairly moved!
“Oh,” cried my Duchess Eleonore, “never was such a lovely robe seen before, and it cometh just in time, too, since the ball that Queen Blanche giveth to the Queen’s maid on her marriage will be shortly.”
My Duchess had the velvet fashioned into a robe so splendid that all marvelled. It fell from her shoulders and flowed three metres’ length upon the floor, and the doves of silver fluttered and shone with every step she taketh. Above her brow rose the tall hennin that Queen Isabeau so loved to wear and to have the ladies of her court wear also, and from this fell a veil of silver like unto the doves.
The night of the ball was at hand, and none looking on my stately Duchess would deem that she had but fifteen years. So heavy was the robe, and of such length, that as I walked behind I bore it for her.
The palace shone bravely with torches and flambeaux set in the wall, and borne in the hands of many lackeys all about the rooms. Our King, the Well-beloved, no longer ill, was full of pleasure at the masques which had been planned for this ball. He was scarce older than was I, since he was but nineteen years, and when he was not ill, ever loved to mingle in all the sports going forward.
“NONE LOOKING ON MY STATELY DUCHESS WOULD DEEM THAT SHE HAD BUT FIFTEEN YEARS.”
The dancing had come to an end. Quickly a space was cleared, and as I stood behind my Lady, a loud voice crieth out,—
“The wild men, the wild men! Give the wild men room!”
Of a truth they were frightful to see,—five chained together, led by a sixth who leaped along in front shouting, all of them being covered with long shaggy hair after the manner of some strange beasts.
As the mummers passed, for they were but dressed to look like wild men, I tweaked betwixt finger and thumb a bit of the fur, and lo, it was but ravelled tow. Now I knew right well why the word had been passed that none with lights should move about the room. With what wild shouts did the mummers leap here and there amongst the guests! Some were affrighted and ran screaming away. The leader of them all runneth up to my mistress.
“Dost thou know me?” cried he.
Right firmly she held him by the hand.
“Not yet,” saith she, “but shall ere I let thee go.”
Then my blood froze with the horror of a scream I heard, then another and another. In an instant mummers, guests, room, and all were in a blaze. One of the company, to see the mummers better, had seized a torch and held it near them. The tow sprang into flame, and the five men who were tied together were instantly on fire and shrieking out. One only loosed himself and ran and plunged into a tank for washing of the silver, and which happened to be full of water.
All through the tumult and cries there stood my Duchess mid the flying brands, which I fought as best I might with cap and hands.
“Come away,” I cried, “oh, mistress, come.”
“Nay, help me to save him, Jehan,” was what she whispered back.
Her fair veil shrivelled with the heat, the flying slivers blistered her arms and neck. Cries of “The King, the King, save the King,” grew loud and louder. Queen Isabeau fainted, yet my brave Duchess stood there till every flying spark had been stamped out, holding gathered about her the heavy velvet robe. When at last the fire was all subdued, she threw aside the blue robe that had been so fair, and there under its scorched folds, in his monstrous suit of tow, knelt the King, safe and unharmed.
“Hasten, Sire,” cried she, “the Queen waiteth you. Throw over you Jehan’s cloak lest some wanton spark fly near you.”
The King hurried away, and then think not but that I hastened to get my mistress home. And oh, my Lord’s pride in my Lady!
And oh, the King’s words when he came next morn to thank her, kneeling on one knee to kiss her hand!
The sky-blue robe, say you? What became of that?
My mistress packed it away in the coffer that had brought it from Genoa, with her own hands, and from that time my Lord taketh for his pennon one of sky-blue ground with a silver dove set in its midst.
