CHAPTER XIV.

IN THE CIRCLE OF THE EMPEROR.

That evening Nigel was not left to eat his meal in the little _salle à manger_ adjoining his bedchamber, but was invited by the officers of the guard to join them, a compliment that was worth the paying, seeing that the officers of the guard were drawn from the oldest families in Austria and Hungary, and that a mere sub-lieutenant in the guard ranked as a regimental captain in the army, and a captain was equal to a colonel, if not higher, in the point of distinction.

Notwithstanding that he was a regimental officer bearing the rank of captain, and an outlander, a fact which emphasised another fact, that he was a soldier of fortune, or, if we prefer it, a soldier without a fortune, whereas his hosts were men of high family and fortunes who happened to be soldiers, they received him with that perfection of politeness which already characterised the Austrian nobility in so far as it came into daily contact with the court. Something there was of the ceremony and grandiosity of Spain, which the intermarriages of princes and princesses had brought about, mingled with the brightness and gaiety that sprung of a northern race and northern air, and of a greater activity of body and alertness of mind.

They regarded the sack of Magdeburg as a mere incident, but sufficiently interesting to men who professed the art of war to make them put to their guest a perfect array of questions as to the tactics employed, the relative value of the weapons, and Tilly's projected movements. He had to tell at full length his adventure at Plauen, and they contrived to let him know that he was more fortunate than they in having enjoyed such experiences.

When the supper had proceeded to a pleasant length, if it were not quite so prolonged as that famous meal which Mr Howell, who was secretary to an embassy to Denmark, has related in his letters, consisting as it did of forty courses and thirty-five toasts, the Captain-General of the guard, a venerable officer, who wore the orders of half the kingdoms of Europe, suspended by gold chains and gold brooches, giving almost the similitude of a cuirass, rose, and in the name of the Emperor complimented their guest on the services he had rendered and the signal bravery he had shown at the siege and the storm of Magdeburg. He ended by presenting him with a Colonel's commission under the Emperor's own hand and seal, and drank his health in the most handsome fashion--an example which the whole corps of officers followed with much zest and the draining of many flagons of Tokay.

Nigel was taken indeed by surprise. His blushes testified at once to his habitual modesty, and to his youth. But for the honour of his race and country he regained his self-command in a short space, and made a speech of thanks which, for fluency in the German tongue and the spirit of loyalty to his chosen standard which infused it, gained him an even greater credit in the minds of his hearers. Scotland was to most of them a far-off country, and being far was esteemed uncivilised, and they marvelled that a Scottish gentleman could without effort assume the ease of manner and the air of compliment in the banqueting-hall of Vienna as well as lead an attacking party, which any officer of proper valour and skill should be able to do.

Just as the supper had concluded and the tables had been cleared for wine and the dice-box, or whatever other pastime was forward, a page arrived to tell him that the Emperor commanded his attendance at his card-party in half an hour. Nigel would perhaps have more willingly sat over his wine with these jovial gallants of the guard. But there was no choice. So that he took leave of the Captain-General and of his other hosts, some of whom had their military rounds to make, and hastened to refresh himself, and make what change in his dress he could for the ordeal of the court reception.

On reaching his bedchamber he was amazed to find it lit up with many candles, and a court suit lying upon his bed, new and of rich stuffs. Everything he needed was there, and a barber was in attendance together with a valet to assist him to make his outward appearance worthy of the occasion.

Nigel had heard of the lavish generosity of Italian princes towards their friends. He knew of favourites both in Spain and in Britain who had been plentifully rewarded by the bestowal of public office or of pension. In France the King's cash-box, which was also the State's, was frequently opened to reward the deserving and undeserving. But it had never before happened to him that he was invited to be of the company of a prince and provided with a new court suit in the bargain. Monarchs were often unmindful of these petty but costly trivialities. But since in his own case the Emperor Ferdinand had expended so much thoughtfulness and a goodly purse of crowns on his wedding garment, Nigel was not disposed to blame him for departing from the usual rule. It was difficult besides not to feel uncommonly elated when Fortune persisted in making him so avowedly her favourite. And if, while he was being dealt with by the barber, he did wonder how that slightly dry, tired-eyed Emperor had contrived to think two consecutive thoughts about his, Nigel's, wearing apparel, and fell back upon the Archduchess Stephanie as the possible donor, he dismissed the latter suggestion because he was not sufficiently full of conceit to credit it, and accepted the first as a very natural explanation, because his opinion of his own services unconsciously coincided with the sense of them he imputed to the Emperor. It must not be forgotten that Tokay in unstinted measure has a tendency to make a man reflect in the first instance what a really fine fellow he is. It is doubtless one of the first qualities of good wine to enhance in the man who drinks it the estimation of his own vintage. Had the page, who as a fact knew nothing, or the barber, or the valet, breathed the name of Father Lamormain, of a surety Nigel would have regarded the idea as humorous, and even at that rather wanting in point. If he had been solemnly assured that Father Lamormain, that very benign Jesuit he had met for the first and only time in his life in the palace garden, was the donor of the suit, he would probably have worn it, but, as the gentleman in one of Shakespeare's plays wore his rue, with a difference.

Not that Nigel Charteris in his braveries was one whit more a braggart or a fop or one iota less a Scottish gentleman than when, stained with blood and smoke, begrimed and weary, he had taken shelter at the hands of Elspeth Reinheit in the old house at Magdeburg. But that evening he did feel that the world was at his feet, and he did make a gallant figure as the doors flew open and the pages, announcing the "high-born and noble Colonel Nigel von Charteris," admitted him to the presence of his Emperor and the brilliant circle of the court.

The Emperor and his consort alone were seated. The guests were not yet all assembled, and stood about in groups within reach of the royal voices. There were perhaps eight or ten ladies, amongst whom, when his eyes had grown used to the numerous candles and the glitter of jewels, reflected and multiplied by the mirrors of Venetian glass that hung upon the walls, Nigel recognised the Archduchess Stephanie and a younger sister who more resembled the Emperor.

The Archduchess shot him a swift glance of recognition, and the smile, which rather accompanied than followed it, bestowed not upon him but upon some chance-favoured auditor with whom she talked, seemed to imply approval of his choice of a court dress. That swift glance of hers was enough to tell him that their rencontre of the morning was, if it could not be swept from remembrance, at least to be treated as if it had not been.

It was Father Lamormain who, gliding to his side, assumed the gracious part of cicerone.

"And are you still pleased with your good news, colonel?" he asked with his benevolent smile of universal fatherhood.

"More and more, Father! This morning there was the promise. This evening it is in flower!"

"The blossom," said the priest, looking at the court suit, "becomes the tree if the tree yield good fruit." A saying which left Nigel puzzled, intimating as it did that his reward was not so much for service done as for services to do. He had no time to ponder it, for Father Lamormain had led him to the Archduchess Stephanie and was presenting him.

"Your Highness! may I present to you the youngest Colonel of Musketeers in the Imperial armies, Mr Nigel Charteris, who has had the honour and the peril of bearing Count Tilly's despatches from Magdeburg!"

"I am pleased to greet you!" said the Archduchess, giving him her hand to kiss. "I trust your journey was as pleasant as the issue was successful."

As Nigel had bent to kiss the long slender fingers that were so like the Emperor's, he seemed to see again those of Ottilie von Thüringen binding up the wound of Elspeth Reinheit. He answered her--

"The journey was not so perilous, your Highness, as the reward is great in your Highness's gracious welcome!" And greatly daring he gazed for a moment with unfeigned admiration at the eyes of the Archduchess.

"Count Tilly's captains are swift to learn, Father?" she said, smiling.

"They are more teachable than princesses!" said Father Lamormain, with such banter in his tone as the privileged spiritual director of the family might employ. "And princesses," he added, "are swift to teach."

A saying which the Archduchess and Nigel alike felt might be innocent or barbed with irony.

Father Lamormain did not leave him till he had made the round of the guests. Nigel's brain was becoming clearer as he became used to the scene, and the effects of the excellent Tokay were wellnigh spent. He learned by observation in what very real respect the whole court held the Jesuit father. This polished and witty priest had something in the way of compliment for all the ladies, something flattering for the great lords and lordlings. But for the Father there was no covert sneer, or half attention, or sign of fear. There was real respect, and something that resembled the perfect confidence of friendship.

Last of all, the Elector Maximilian, with his eternal half-smile, left the Emperor's immediate group and accosted Nigel.

"So Father Lamormain has taken you in hand, Colonel! They say that this is a greater mark of honour than even the Emperor can bestow. Beware, however, of any love secrets. He will worm them out of you!"

"He does not wear them upon his sleeve, your Highness!" said the priest, with a glance over in the direction of the Archduchess Stephanie, which was not understood by Nigel.

"And in what plight are my Bavarians?" the Elector went on.

Father Lamormain beat a retreat. They would find much to talk about, and if the fathoming of Nigel's leanings were necessary Maximilian was as astute as himself. Luckily Nigel held a high opinion of Pappenheim, whom many regarded as the foremost general in Germany, even before Wallenstein, but who was a soldier and nothing more, no politician or ambitious seeker after power.

"You were with Tilly before?"

"No, sire! With Wallenstein from the campaign against Mansfeld to the end of his command!"

To the "Ah" with which this was received Nigel attached the significance it bore.

"Have you seen him since his ... resignation?"

"Yes, sire; at Eger on my journey here."

"And how does he bear his retirement?"

"In truth I know almost nothing, sire. When I was under him I rarely saw him, and was not of his familiar circle, if indeed he had such. I do not know. He asked for my company at Eger to divide a bottle of wine with him. He seems to occupy himself with astronomy and the mathematics."

"I have heard," rejoined Maximilian, "that he had great acquaintance and much controversy with a learned doctor, one Paracelsus, but these matters are beyond my ken. Men and women are more to me than the stars."

Several gentlemen of the court had gathered round the Elector, and it was the hearing of the name of Wallenstein that drew them, for it was well known that the Elector and he were on terms of discord. In the days of the Winter King it had been Maximilian and his armies who had been in fact the Emperor's legions, then as a counterpoise the Emperor had raised up Wallenstein. When Wallenstein had made Maximilian the pale shadow of an armed power, Maximilian had plotted till Wallenstein was deposed and his army scattered to the ten thousand hamlets of Germany.

"A veritable Cincinnatus!" said an elderly gentleman.

"He raised cabbages for sauerkraut, did he not?" a younger man asked.

"Your Cincinnatus," said the Elector, "raiseth weeds of a poisonous and rebellious nature."

"Such as, sire?" a staid and solemn-faced minister of state inquired.

"Ambition, my Lord! It brought Cæsar to the ground, and Cæsar was a greater man. When Wallenstein, then a rich Bohemian landlord, discovered that he had the genius of organising an army, he began to think he had discovered in himself another Cæsar. He thought that to command a great army, to find its food and pay, was absolute power. He forgot that that consent of the Emperor, which alone had made it possible, was the real source of power, and that the consent might be withdrawn. You all know what happened in fact. He has no patriotism. His country, his Emperor, his creed, is Wallenstein; and he would as soon serve Gustavus, if Gustavus would promise him a kingdom, as serve the Emperor."

The Elector Maximilian had raised his voice a little as he spoke his last sentences. The Emperor, turning in his chair from his cards not far away, said--

"Your favourite topic, cousin! He did us good service in our need."

"In truth, sire!" said the Archduchess Stephanie, also addressing Maximilian. "Age should be more lenient to age and honourable service."

Nigel wondered why the Elector showed so much the symptoms of a frown when his mouth, so much of it as was visible, essayed a smile as he turned towards the Archduchess.

The Emperor and Father Lamormain, who was of his party at cards, exchanged a guarded glance.

"You remind me of that, Stephanie, which in your presence I had forgotten."

With which saying he strode to her side with an air of gallantry, which had sat well upon a younger man, and engaged her in a conversation out of earshot, as he meant, of the rest of the company.

At this point a page came to the Emperor and gave him a message in a low tone. The page went out, and in a moment the doors opened.

"His Grace the Duke of Friedland" was announced; and instantly the company sat or stood as if petrified.

Albrecht von Walstein entered, attired not plainly, but as became a magnifico of the Empire. There was violet velvet slashed with green silk and sewn with pearls, and all point devise. He made three obeisances as he approached the Emperor, and kissed his hand, then that of his consort. The Emperor bade him be seated.

"You have been long coming to Vienna, Duke, but seeing that you are here you are well-come. You have news?"

"Sire! I was but a few days since at Eger, where I have a poor dwelling-place, when I heard that the King of Sweden has left Frankfort, has marched to Werben, where the river Havel pours into the Elbe, and has there entrenched his army in a fortified camp. Brandenburg has given up Spandau and Custrin. We are shut off from the North."

The Emperor's face became a thought graver than usual. So did those of Father Lamormain and of Maximilian, who, leaving the Archduchess, drew near at a sign from the Emperor.

"How many men hath he?"

"My report says forty thousand, all veteran troops. Saxony and Brandenburg can raise another forty thousand between them."

"With a few reinforcements, Tilly and Pappenheim should be able to stay his march," said Maximilian.

To which Wallenstein said nothing. His _rôle_ was the disinterested friend, the wealthy noble to whom war was of no moment.

For a moment there was a curious silence.

Wallenstein would not ask for a command. To offer him a subordinate one was to invite a cold refusal. Father Lamormain and Maximilian were resolutely opposed to any offer being made, and the Emperor knew it. Yet he felt by no means sure that Tilly and Pappenheim could stem the Swedish tide, and he was the head and front and citadel of the Empire, fully aware of his responsibilities towards the state and towards the church, especially the latter.

At Maximilian's words the Archduchess Stephanie made an involuntary movement forward, but checked herself and stood where she was. Nigel, from the place where he stood amid a knot of courtiers, could see her face.

It bore that strange rapt expression of the eyes that he had seen in the vision of Bramante's conjuring, and the eyes were fixed on Wallenstein. Indeed, Wallenstein looked up for an instant and saw them. Nigel could have sworn that a flush swept below the swarthy and much-lined skin of the great commander; but the face with its high cheek-bones and small bright eyes had recovered its bronze composure in the instant.