University of Virginia Library

A MEDIÆVAL ROMANCE.

1. CHAPTER I.
THE SECRET REVEALED.

IT was night. Stillness reigned in
the grand old feudal castle of Klugenstein.
The year 1222 was drawing
to a close. Far away up in the
tallest of the castle's towers a single
light glimmered. A secret council was
being held there. The stern old lord
of Klugenstein sat in a chair of state
meditating. Presently he said, with a
tender accent—“My daughter!”

A young man of noble presence, clad from head to heel in knightly mail,
answered—“Speak, father!”

“My daughter, the time is come for the revealing of the mystery that hath
puzzled all your young life. Know, then, that it had its birth in the matters which
I shall now unfold. My brother Ulrich is the great Duke of Brandenburgh. Our
father, on his deathbed, decreed that if no son were born to Ulrich the succession
should pass to my house, provided a son were born to me. And further, in case no
son were born to either, but only daughters, then the succession should pass to
Ulrich's daughter if she proved stainless; if she did not, my daughter should
succeed if she retained a blameless name. And so I and my old wife here prayed
fervently for the good boon of a son, but the prayer was vain. You were born to
us. I was in despair. I saw the mighty prize slipping from my grasp—the splendid
dream vanishing away! And I had been so hopeful! Five years had Ulrich lived
in wedlock, and yet his wife had borne no heir of either sex.

“`But hold,' I said, `all is not lost.' A saving scheme had shot athwart my
brain. You were born at midnight. Only the leech, the nurse, and six waiting-women
knew your sex. I hanged them every one before an hour sped. Next
morning all the barony went mad with rejoicing over the proclamation that a son
was born to Klugenstein—an heir to mighty Brandenburgh! And well the secret
has been kept. Your mother's own sister nursed your infancy, and from that time
forward we feared nothing.

“When you were ten years old a daughter was born to Ulrich. We grieved, but
hoped for good results from measles, or physicians, or other natural enemies of
infancy, but were always disappointed. She lived, she throve—Heaven's malison
upon her! But it is nothing. We are safe. For, ha! ha! have we not a son?
And is not our son the future Duke? Our well-beloved Conrad, is it not so?—for
woman of eight-and-twenty years as you are, my child, none other name than that
hath ever fallen to you!

“Now it hath come to pass that age hath laid its hand upon my brother, and he
waxes feeble. The cares of state do tax him sore, therefore he wills that you shall
come to him and be already Duke in act, though not yet in name. Your servitors
are ready—you journey forth to-night.

“Now listen well. Remember every word I say. There is a law as old as Germany,
that if any woman sit for a single instant in the great ducal chair before she

hath been absolutely crowned in presence of the people—SHE SHALL DIE! So heed
my words. Pretend humility. Pronounce your judgments from the Premier's
chair, which stands at the foot of the throne. Do this until you are crowned and
safe. It is not likely that your sex will ever be discovered, but still it is the part
of wisdom to make all things as safe as may be in this treacherous earthly life.”

“O my father! is it for this my life hath been a lie? Was it that I might cheat
my unoffending cousin of her rights? Spare me, father, spare your child!”

“What, hussy! Is this my reward for the august fortune my brain has wrought
for thee? By the bones of my father, this puling sentiment of thine but ill accords
with my humor. Betake thee to the Duke instantly, and beware how thou meddlest
with my purpose!”

Let this suffice of the conversation. It is enough for us to know that the prayers,
the entreaties, and the tears of the gentle-natured girl availed nothing. Neither
they nor anything could move the stout old lord of Klugenstein. And so, at last,
with a heavy heart, the daughter saw the castle gates close behind her, and found
herself riding away in the darkness surrounded by a knightly array of armed vassals
and a brave following of servants.

The old baron sat silent for many minutes after his daughter's departure, and
then he turned to his sad wife, and said—

“Dame, our matters seem speeding fairly. It is full three months since I sent
the shrewd and handsome Count Detzin on his devilish mission to my brother's
daughter Constance. If he fail we are not wholly safe, but if he do succeed no
power can bar our girl from being Duchess, e'en though ill fortune should decree
she never should be Duke!”

“My heart is full of bodings; yet all may still be well.”

“Tush, woman! Leave the owls to croak. To bed with ye, and dream of
Brandenburgh and grandeur!”

2. CHAPTER II.
FESTIVITY AND TEARS.

Six days after the occurrences related in the above chapter, the brilliant capital
of the Duchy of Brandenburgh was resplendent with military pageantry, and noisy

with the rejoicings of loyal multitudes, for Conrad, the young heir to the crown,
was come. The old Duke's heart was full of happiness, for Conrad's handsome
person and graceful bearing had won his love at once. The great halls of the
palace were thronged with nobles, who welcomed Conrad bravely; and so bright
and happy did all things seem, that he felt his fears and sorrows passing away, and
giving place to a comforting contentment.

But in a remote apartment of the palace a scene of a different nature was transpiring.
By a window stood the Duke's only child, the Lady Constance. Her eyes
were red and swollen, and full of tears. She was alone. Presently she fell to
weeping anew, and said aloud—

“The villain Detzin is gone—has fled the dukedom! I could not believe it at
first, but, alas! it is too true. And I loved him so. I dared to love him though I
knew the Duke my father would never let me wed him. I loved him—but now I
hate him! With all my soul I hate him! Oh, what is to become of me? I am
lost, lost, lost! I shall go mad!”

3. CHAPTER III.
THE PLOT THICKENS.

A few months drifted by. All men published the praises of the young Conrad's
government, and extolled the wisdom of his judgments, the mercifulness of his
sentences, and the modesty with which he bore himself in his great office. The
old Duke soon gave everything into his hands, and sat apart and listened with
proud satisfaction while his heir delivered the decrees of the crown from the seat
of the Premier. It seemed plain that one so loved and praised and honored of all
men as Conrad was could not be otherwise than happy. But, strangely enough, he
was not. For he saw with dismay that the Princess Constance had begun to love
him! The love of the rest of the world was happy fortune for him, but this was
freighted with danger! And he saw, moreover, that the delighted Duke had discovered
his daughter's passion likewise, and was already dreaming of a marriage.
Every day somewhat of the deep sadness that had been in the princess's face faded
away; every day hope and animation beamed brighter from her eye; and by and
by even vagrant smiles visited the face that had been so troubled.

Conrad was appalled. He bitterly cursed himself for having yielded to the
instinct that had made him seek the companionship of one of his own sex when he
was new and a stranger in the palace—when he was sorrowful and yearned for a
sympathy such as only women can give or feel. He now began to avoid his cousin.
But this only made matters worse, for naturally enough, the more he avoided her
the more she cast herself in his way. He marvelled at this at first, and next it
startled him. The girl haunted him; she hunted him; she happened upon him at
all times and in all places, in the night as well as in the day. She seemed singularly
anxious. There was surely a mystery somewhere.

This could not go on for ever. All the world was talking about it. The Duke
was beginning to look perplexed. Poor Conrad was becoming a very ghost through
dread and dire distress. One day as he was emerging from a private ante-room
attached to the picture gallery Constance confronted him, and seizing both his
hands in hers, exclaimed—

“Oh, why do you avoid me? What have I done—what have I said, to lose
your kind opinion of me—for surely I had it once? Conrad, do not despise me,
but pity a tortured heart? I cannot, cannot hold the words unspoken longer, lest
they kill me—I love you, Conrad! There, despise me if you must, but they
would be uttered!”

Conrad was speechless. Constance hesitated a moment, and then, misinterpreting
his silence, a wild gladness flamed in her eyes, and she flung her arms about
his neck and said—

“You relent! you relent! You can love me—you will love me! Oh, say you
will, my own, my worshipped Conrad!”

Conrad groaned aloud. A sickly pallor overspread his countenance, and he
trembled like an aspen. Presently, in desperation, he thrust the poor girl from
him, and cried—

“You know not what you ask! It is for ever and ever impossible!” And then
he fled like a criminal, and left the princess stupefied with amazement. A minute
afterward she was crying and sobbing there, and Conrad was crying and sobbing
in his chamber. Both were in despair. Both saw ruin staring them in the face.

By and by Constance rose slowly to her feet and moved away, saying—

“To think that he was despising my love at the very moment that I thought it
was melting his cruel heart! I hate him! He spurned me—did this man—he
spurned me from his like a dog!”

4. CHAPTER IV.
THE AWFUL REVELATION.

Time passed on. A settled sadness rested once more upon the countenance of
the good Duke's daughter. She and Conrad were seen together no more now.
The Duke grieved at this. But as the weeks wore away Conrad's color came back
to his cheeks, and his old-time vivacity to his eye, and he administered the governmment
with a clear and steadily ripening wisdom.

Presently a strange whisper began to be heard about the palace. It grew louder;
it spread farther. The gossips of the city got hold of it. It swept the dukedom.
And this is what the whisper said—

“The Lady Constance hath given birth to a child!”

When the lord of Klugenstein heard it he swung his plumed helmet thrice around
his head and shouted—

“Long live Duke Conrad!—for lo, his crown is sure from this day forward!
Detzin has done his errand well, and the good scoundrel shall be rewarded!”

And he spread the tidings far and wide, and for eight-and-forty hours no soul in
all the barony but did dance and sing, carouse and illuminate, to celebrate the
great event, and all at proud and happy old Klugenstein's expense.

5. CHAPTER V.
THE FRIGHTFUL CATASTROPHE.

The trial was at hand. All the great lords and barons of Brandenburgh were
assembled in the Hall of Justice in the ducal palace. No space was left unoccupied
where there was room for a spectator to stand or sit. Conrad, clad in purple and
ermine, sat in the Premier's chair, and on either side sat the great judges of the
realm. The old Duke had sternly commanded that the trial of his daughter should
proceed without favor, and then had taken to his bed broken-hearted. His days

were numbered. Poor Conrad had begged, as for his very life, that he might be
spared the misery of sitting in judgment upon his cousin's crime, but it did not
avail.

The saddest heart in all that great assemblage was in Conrad's breast.

The gladdest was in his father's, for, unknown to his daughter “Conrad,” the old
Baron Klugenstein was come, and was among the crowd of nobles triumphant in
the swelling fortunes of his house.

After the heralds had made due proclamation and the other preliminaries had
followed, the venerable Lord Chief-Justice said—“Prisoner, stand forth!”

The unhappy princess rose, and stood unveiled before the vast multitude. The
Lord Chief-Justice continued—

“Most noble lady, before the great judges of this realm it hath been charged
and proven that out of holy wedlock your Grace hath given birth unto a child, and
by our ancient law the penalty is death excepting in one sole contingency, whereof
his Grace the acting Duke, our good Lord Conrad, will advertise you in his solemn
sentence now; wherefore give heed.”

Conrad stretched forth his reluctant sceptre, and in the self-same moment the
womanly heart beneath his robe yearned pityingly toward the doomed prisoner,
and the tears came into his eyes. He opened his lips to speak, but the Lord Chief-Justice
said quickly—

“Not there, your Grace, not there! It is not lawful to pronounce judgment upon
any of the ducal line SAVE FROM THE DUCAL THRONE!”

A shudder went to the heart of poor Conrad, and a tremor shook the iron frame
of his old father likewise. Conrad had not been crowned—dared he profane
the throne? He hesitated and turned pale with fear. But it must be done.
Wondering eyes were already upon him. They would be suspicious eyes if he
hesitated longer. He ascended the throne. Presently he stretched forth the
sceptre again, and said—

“Prisoner, in the name of our sovereign Lord Ulrich, Duke of Brandenburgh, I
proceed to the solemn duty that hath devolved upon me. Give heed to my words.
By the ancient law of the land, except you produce the partner of your guilt and
deliver him up to the executioner you must surely die. Embrace this opportunity
—save yourself while yet you may. Name the father of your child!”

A solemn hush fell upon the great court—a silence so profound that men could
hear their own hearts beat. Then the princess slowly turned, with eyes gleaming
with hate, and pointing her finger straight at Conrad, said—

“Thou art the man!”

An appalling conviction of his helpless, hopeless peril struck a chill to Conrad's
heart like the chill of death itself. What power on earth could save him! To
disprove the charge he must reveal that he was a woman, and for an uncrowned
woman to sit in the ducal chair was death! At one and the same moment he and
his grim old father swooned and fell to the ground.

The remainder of this thrilling and eventful story will NOT be found in this or
any other publication, either now or at any future time.

The truth is, I have got my hero (or heroine) into such a particularly close place
that I do not see how I am ever going to get him (or her) out of it again, and
therefore I will wash my hands of the whole business, and leave that person to get
out the best way that offers—or else stay there. I thought it was going to be easy
enough to straighten out that little difficulty, but it looks different now.