Marjorie Bowen

“ Dirk gave a wan smile. "I can blast you as I blasted Melchoir of Brabant, Ysabeau, and do you think I have any fear of what you can say? But"—he leaned towards her—"suppose I go with what I know to Balthasar?"
The name humbled the Empress like a whip held over her.
"So, I am helpless," she muttered, loathing him.
"The pardon," insisted Dirk; "sound the bell and write me a pardon." Still she hesitated; it was a hard thing to lose her vengeance against a dangerous enemy.
"Choose another reward," she pleaded. "Of what value can this man's life be to you?" ”

“ At that she must think her secret dead with you, yet she gave no sign of joy nor relief, nor any hint of what her business was."
"She is never betrayed by her puppet's face—an iron-hearted fiend, the Empress."
"They say, though, that she is a fool for Balthasar, a dog at his heels."
"Until she change."
"Belike you will be her next fancy," said Nathalie; "the crystals always foretell a throne for you."
Dirk laughed.
"I do not mean to share my honours with any—woman," he answered; "pile up the fire, Nathalie, certes, it is cold." ”

“ He drank eagerly of the wine put before him, and began to eat.
"Ye have heard," asked Nathalie, "that Balthasar of Courtrai has been elected Emperor?"
"Yea," smiled Dirk, "and is to marry Ysabeau within the year; we knew it, did we not?"
"Next spring they go to Rome to receive the Imperial crown."
"I shall be with them," said Dirk. "Well, it is good to rest. What a thick fool Balthasar is!" He smiled, and his eyes sparkled.
"The Empress is a clever woman," answered the witch, "she came here once to know whither you had gone. I told her, for the jest, that you were dead. ”

“ Dirk urged the steed till he rocked in the saddle; curtains were pulled aside and doors opened to see who rode by so furiously; the streets were empty—but there would be people enough in the marketplace. He passed the high walls of the college, galloped over the bridge that crossed the sullen waters of the Main, swept by the open doors of St. Wolfram, then had to draw rein, for the narrow Street began to be choked with people. He pulled his hat over his eyes and flung his cloak across the lower half of his face; with one hand he dragged on the bridle, with the other waved the parchment. ”