AN APPLE OF GOLD
Project Gutenberg EPUB3 edition
McCarthy, Justin H. (Justin Huntly)
Following the lord-marshal, Argathona came to the silken tent which sheltered the Lady Esclaramonde. At a sign from Count Ernault the pages in attendance drew back the curtains, and Argathona entering found herself in the presence of the Duchess of Thebes. The Lady Esclaramonde was reclining upon a pile of many-colored cushions, playing with a mirror and talking to her women. She propped herself on one elbow and smiled first at Sir Ernault and then at the fair face of the victor.
"I thank you," she said, and there was that in the tone of her voice, and that in the look of her eyes, and that in the deep of his own memory which made it plain to him that the duchess desired to be left alone with the young knight.
Gravity reigning in his face, irony rising in his mind, Count Ernault bowed and left the presence. At a sign from Esclaramonde the duchess's women withdrew into a further apartment of the pavilion, curtained off from the place where Esclaramonde now lay, who looked up alluringly into the impassive face of the youth. For to her, as to the others, with the glamour of the woodland will upon her, Argathona seemed no more than a handsome lad.
"You joust well, youth," she said. "Who is your true-love?"
"I played for a lady's sake," Argathona answered, "whom I maintain very fair."
Esclaramonde leaned forward a little on her silken couch, resting herself on both hands, like some beautiful wild beast about to spring.
"Who is this lady?" she asked, steel in her voice and steel in her eyes, for she could not bear to think that any man could find any woman fair while she was by.
A smile rippled over the dryad's face.
"I dare not say her name," she said, "yet, if you choose, you may see her."
Esclaramonde's dark brows met in a frown.
"Is she one of my women?" she asked, suddenly, and the sound of her voice boded ill for that one of her women whom the champion might name.
Argathona shook her head.
"Indeed no. She is not an inch below you in rank nor an inch above you in stature. Her eyes shine with no less than your brightness; her lips smile with your lively red. Here, if you please, is her image."
Stooping a little, Argathona caught up the mirror with which the duchess had been playing and held it deftly in front of the beautiful, cruel face. The red blood raced into Esclaramonde's cheeks and ebbed again, leaving her strangely pale.
"Am I your lady-love?" she cried, with that joy in her voice which conquest always brought her.
"You are she I rode to see," Argathona answered, enigmatically.
Esclaramonde gave a little sigh of dissatisfaction.
"Your heel needed a sharper spur; you are a day too late. I am to be married this evening."
Argathona laughed.
"Love you, lady! I am a fellow of adventure, and would never make a hearth-haunting husband. I am here to-day and gone to-morrow. My love is the child of a night."
Esclaramonde's eyes widened and dwindled like a cat's. She was thinking of many times and many nights and many comely men, and she was loath to admit that this stripling should slip through the net of her desires.
"Why, we may find a time by-and-by," she sighed, all enticement.
Argathona shook her head.
"I ride from Athens to-morrow," she began, slowly; then swiftly, with the imperiousness of victory, she ended, "Give me to-night."
The duchess laughed, but the duchess was pleased at the vehemence.
"You are a mad rascal. Am I not to be married this evening?"
Argathona answered her, in a lowered voice:
"There is an old tale of the Theban country, how a beautiful, open-hearted lady would send her lord to sleep in the sipping of a spiced wine, and then talk in the starlight with some lighter, brighter body."
As Argathona spoke a frown grew and deepened on the face of Esclaramonde.
"What are you saying?" she whispered.
"An old tale of Thebes," the dryad replied. "You know not such notions. Yet 'tis a pity. Here is your lord, the unhorsed knight, will be your fellow forever and a day, while I, who overtumbled him, must willy-nilly be gone to-morrow. If he were to sleep to-night how should it harm him? He would not hear us speak in the starlight."
The duchess waved her hand impatiently as if in dismissal.
"You are a mad lad; ride where you will."
"As you please," Argathona replied, "yet I have a toy here I would give to any fair who was gentle with me."
If the duchess was greedy of love, she was greedy also of lovely things.
"What toy?" she cried, eagerly.
Argathona put her hand to her girdle and held out on extended palm a small, perfectly fashioned apple of pure gold.
"This golden apple. See, it is pure gold, and see, writ on it in the Greekish script, 'To the most fair.' This was the globe Paris gave to Venus and set Troy burning. She who has it will ever be deemed the loveliest in the eyes of men. I will give this to you to-night if we talk together in the starlight."
The duchess propped her chin on her palm and meditated. There came before her mind a diverting picture of her late lord, the ancient Duke of Thebes, dozing hoggishly in his corner while she talked with another in the starlight. The young knight of Athens was fair, but very surely this young knight of Eleusis was fairer, and, after all, if he rode away to-morrow there would be an age-long time to pass in the company of Duke Baldwin's son. She decided quickly.
"Well, have your will if I win the golden apple. Come to the west postern of the palace to-night. I will see to it that the door is ajar. Mount the stair when I show a light from the window. Be very sure you bring the apple with you. Farewell."