t extravagances of fashion. His hat, lying
carelessly on the table at his elbow, was devoid of aigrette, jewels or
plume; a head-covering for the campaign rather than the court. Within
reach of his hand stood a heavy golden goblet of massive German
workmanship, the solid character of which contrasted with the drinking
vessels after Cellini's patterns affected by Francis. This he raised
to his lips, drank deeply, replaced the goblet on the table, and said
as much to himself as to those around him:

"A fair land, this of our brother! Small wonder he likes to play the
host, even to his enemies. We may conquer him on the ensanguined
field, but he conquers us--or Henry of England!--on a field of cloth of
gold!"

"But for your Majesty to put yourself in the king's power?" ventured a
courtier, who wore a begemmed torsade and a cloak of Genoa velvet.

The monarch leaned back in his great chair and his face grew harsh. As
he sat there musing, his virility and iron figure gave him rather the
appearance of the soldier than the emperor. This impression his
surroundings further emphasized, for the walls of the tent were
covered, not with the gorgeous-colored Gobelins of the pleasure-loving
French, but with severe and stately tapestries from his native
Flanders, depicting in somber shades various scenes of martial triumph.
When he raised his head he cast a look of ominous displeasure upon the
last speaker.

"Had he not once the English king beneath his roof?" answered the
monarch. "At Amboise, where we visited Francis some years ago, was
there any restraint put upon us?"

A grim smile crossed his features at the recollection of the gorgeous
_fetes_ in his honor on that other occasion. Perhaps, too, he thought
of the excitements held out by those servitors of the king, the frail
and fair ladies of the court, for he added:

"_Saints et saintes_! 'twas a palace of pleasure, not a dungeon, he
prepared for us. But enough of this! It is time we rode on. Let the
cavalcade, with the tents, follow behind."

"Think you, your Majesty, if the princess be not yet married to the
bastard, she is like to espouse the true duke?" asked the courtier, as
a soldier left the tent to carry out the orders of the emperor.

Charles arose abruptly. "Of a surety! He must have loved her greatly,
else--"

The clattering of hoofs, drawing nearer, interrupted the emperor's
ruminations, and, wheeling sharply, he gazed without. A band of
ho