them. Perhaps the muscles of the king's guest had been
weakened by the excesses of Francis' court, yet was he still a mighty
tower of strength, and, mad with rage, by a last supreme effort he
finally managed to tear himself loose, hurling the fool violently from
him into the arms of the jailer, who, attracted by the sound of the
struggle, at that moment rushed into the cell. This keeper, himself a
burly, herculean soldier, promptly closed with the prisoner.

Breathless, exhausted, the free baron marked the conflict now
transferred to the turnkey and the jester. The former held the fool at
a decided disadvantage, as he had sprung upon the back of the jester
and was also unweakened by previous efforts. But still the fool
contended fiercely, striving to turn so as to grapple with his
assailant, and wonderingly the free baron for a moment watched that
exhibition of virility and endurance. During the wrestling the
jester's doublet had been torn open and suddenly the gaze of the king's
guest fell, as if fascinated, upon an object which hung from his neck.

Bending forward, he scrutinized more closely that which had attracted
his attention and then started back. Harshly he laughed, as though a
new train of thought had suddenly assailed him, and looked earnestly
into the now pale face of the nearly helpless fool.

"Why," he cried, "here's a different complication!"

And stooping suddenly, he grasped the stool from the floor and brought
it down with crushing force upon the _plaisant's_ head. A cowardly,
brutal blow; and at once the prisoner's grasp relaxed, and he lay
motionless in the arms of the warder, who placed him on the straw.

"I think the knave's dead, my Lord," remarked the man, panting from his
exertion.

"That makes the comedy only the stronger," replied the free baron
curtly, as he knelt by the side of the prostrate figure and thrust his
hand under the torn doublet. Having procured possession of the object
which chance had revealed to him, he arose and, without further word,
left the cell.

CHAPTER XVI

TIDINGS FROM THE COURT

When Brusquet, the jester, fled from the camp at Avignon, where he had
presumed to practise medicine, to the detriment of the army, some one
said: "Fools and cats have nine lives," and the revised proverb had
been accepted at court. It was this saying the turnkey muttered when
he bent over the prostrate figure of the duke's _plaisant_ after the
free baron had departe