Count Frederick of Leiningen immediately rose from his seat, gazing
forward, as the figure we have described advanced up the nave of the
chapel; and, at the same time, a number of voices exclaimed, "The
Emperor! the Emperor!" Though several steps before any of his
attendants, however, the Emperor was not alone. The clanging step of
armed men was heard behind him; knights, officers, and soldiers were
seen pouring in at the doors of the chapel; a great part of the lower
end of the nave, and both the aisles behind the columns were crowded
with forms, faintly seen in the dim glare of the two torches; and
nought was left vacant but a space of about twenty feet in front of
the spot where the judges sat. The face of the Count of Ehrenstein
turned deadly pale; and his look was certainly not one of satisfaction
at the speedy opportunity afforded of trying the appeal he had just
made. A smile of joy beamed upon the lip of Ferdinand of Altenburg, as
he drew back with those who had accompanied him, to allow the monarch
to pass; but old Karl von Mosbach, though every one else rose, still
kept his seat, with his teeth chattering in his head, as he gazed
round, and saw all means of escape cut off by the armed men who
crowded the chapel.
With a firm, proud step, and eyes bent sternly forward, his bonnet and
plume upon his head, and his mantle thrown back from his shoulders,
the Emperor advanced up the aisle, having his sheathed sword unbuckled
in his left hand.
"Well met, knights and nobles," he said, coming near the table; "what
cause judge you here, with our Imperial Court so near as Spires?"
"We knew not, my lord, when this meeting was appointed, that you were
so soon expected," said Count Frederick of Leiningen, "or we might
have referred the trial of the case to you; but this young gentleman
voluntarily submitted himself to the judgment of those here assembled;
and it was agreed, on both parts, that there should be no
appeal--though this good Lord of Ehrenstein has thought fit to make
one."
"There must ever be an appeal to the Imperial Court," said the
monarch, moving round to take the seat which Count Frederick had
placed for him, in the centre of the table. "No agreement can
frustrate the laws of this empire. Therefore the Count's appeal is
good; and we will hear it this night, having already some cognizance
of the questions in debate."
Thus saying, he seated himself, laying his sheathed sword upon the
table, and waving his hand to some gentlemen who had followed him more
closely than the rest of his train. Six of these immediately advanced,
and arranged themselves round the table, as if about to form a new
court. The knights and gentlemen who had accompanied Count Frederick
of Leiningen and the Count of Ehrenstein, looked at each other and
their lords with a glance of hesitation, not knowing whether to
withdraw or not; and while Count Frederick turned his eyes to the
Emperor, the Count of Ehrenstein bent his upon the ground, by no means
well satisfied, notwithstanding the favour the Emperor had shown his
appeal, that his cause should be tried by a tribunal completely
independent of his influence.
After a moment's wavering doubt, one or two of those who had
previously occupied seats round the table, took a step back, as if to
withdraw, and give up their places to the Imperial Councillors; but
the Emperor stopped them, saying, "Stay, gentlemen, stay; we will have
your assistance likewise, as you have already heard this cause in
part; and we will abridge some forms, to come at the truth. Who is
this young gentleman that stands before us, with two of the officers
of our own court, and some other knights, whom we do not know?"
Before any one could answer in a more formal manner, the Count of
Ehrenstein exclaimed, vehemently, "This, my lord the Emperor, is the
bastard son of Charles, Count of Altenburg, brought up by cunning
Brother George, the monk, and tutored by him to steal away my
daughter, and to put in a false claim to my inheritance."
"How is this, young man?" said the Emperor, looking gravely at
Ferdinand of Altenburg; "is this charge true? I pray you, remember
that this shall be sifted to the very bottom, and the severest
punishment of the law shall fall upon him who speaks falsely. Answer
me,--is this true?"
"It is false, my lord," replied Ferdinand, in a calm, firm tone; "I
claim here, before your court, to be received and acknowledged as
Count of Ehrenstein, and to receive the lands and lordships thereof,
doing homage, and rendering service for them as fiefs of the empire;
and I am ready, even now, to prove my title; so that there shall be no
doubt left."
"Ah! you are well-tutored, I can believe," exclaimed the Count; but
Ferdinand went on, not heeding his interruption, saying, "I have
already tendered proofs from the Imperial Chancery, of the marriage of
my late father, the Count of Ehrenstein, and also of my own birth."
"Of the birth of a son," exclaimed the Count of Ehrenstein; "a son,
who perished afterwards, as well as his mother."
"Well, then," cried the Emperor, turning to him quickly, "you admit
the marriage of your brother, and the birth of a son issuing from that
marriage?"
The Count of Ehrenstein was silent, gnawing his under lip, and fixing
his eyes upon the table; but Count Frederick of Leiningen replied to
the Emperor's question, "He cannot deny it, mighty lord; proofs that
admit of no doubt are now in hands of these two noble knights;
officers, as I understand, of your Imperial Court."
"This simplifies the question greatly," said the Emperor; "let me look
at the papers."
The officers who had before produced them immediately presented them
to their Imperial Lord, who examined them closely, looked at the seals
and the numerous signatures of authentication, and then returned them,
saying, "They are in due form, and perfect in every respect. There can
be no doubt. This part of the case is proved; it remains for you,
young gentleman, to establish on unquestionable evidence that you are
the son thus born, otherwise these facts go for nothing."
"It shall be done, my lord, clearly and step by step; but I would fain
know whether your Majesty judges best, that I should commence from the
period of this son's birth, and trace his life downward, till you find
him here before you, or to go back from the present with my past
history, till it connects itself with that of the son of whose birth
you have proof."
"The latter were the better course," said the Emperor; "for, as things
that have lately happened are more likely to be within mean's memories
than things remote, we shall more speedily and easily arrive at a
flaw, if there be one."
"The last twelve years of my life, my lord," replied Ferdinand, "are
known to many here present. During that period, or nearly that period,
I have dwelt in the castle of Ehrenstein, first as a page, then as a
squire to my uncle, calling himself Count of Ehrenstein--is this
admitted, or does it require proof?"
"Pshaw!" exclaimed the Count of Ehrenstein; "we all know the kindness
that for twelve years you have received at my hands, and how you have
repaid it. It is admitted, ay, and proved, that for that time you have
been a retainer in the castle of Ehrenstein; but who placed you
there?"
"Father George of Altenburg," replied the young gentleman, "by whom,
during the two years preceding, I was educated at the abbey of--"
"To be sure," exclaimed the Count again, "who should educate his
brother's bastard but the monk?"
"To refute this," replied Ferdinand of Altenburg, "I will call the
monk himself, who can prove from whose hands he received me."
"Let the monk be called," exclaimed the Emperor; "summon Father George
of Altenburg by the sound of the trumpet. We must have his evidence,
or adjourn our sitting."
These words gave a fresh hope to the Count of Ehrenstein; for to have
delayed the investigation, even for a short time, would have delivered
him from the immediate presence of the Imperial guards, whose
proximity did not at all please him, and would have enabled him to
employ any of those many means of resisting right, which were often
resorted to successfully in those days. But the instant after, a
trumpet sounded at the door of the chapel, and the name of Father
George was pronounced. After a moment's pause, the crowd that filled
the lower part of the building, began to move and fall back on either
hand, and the tall form and fine countenance of the monk was seen
advancing up the aisle.
"This is all concerted," muttered the Count of Ehrenstein to himself;
"the cause is judged before it is heard."
The Emperor, however, without noticing his half audible words, raised
his voice and addressed Father George of Altenburg, even before he had
reached the table, saying, "Father, we have ever heard that you are a
good and holy man, and we now call upon you to speak truth, and to
tell us who is that young man now standing before us, as you will
answer to God."
"This," said Father George, laying his left hand upon Ferdinand's
shoulder, "is Ferdinand of Ehrenstein, the son of my beloved friend,
the late Count."
"Can you prove this fact?" inquired the monarch; "for this is a matter
of serious import, and we must not decide hastily, even upon the
showing of a holy man like you. From whom did you receive this boy,
that you so well know he is Ferdinand of Ehrenstein?"
"From his own mother, my lord the Emperor," replied Father George;
"that is to say, not from her own hands; for unhappily I was not
present when she was seized with the fever at Nuremburg; but at the
point of death, when she had received extreme unction, and had taken
leave of all worldly things, she sent him to me by one who had been
faithful and true to her, and who brought him safely to the abbey, and
delivered him into my hands, in the time of Abbot Waldimer."
"But what proof had you that this was the son of the Countess of
Ehrenstein; how did you know that it was not the son of some one
else?"
"I had often seen the boy before;" replied Father George: "from his
infancy up to that hour, I had never been two months without holding
him on my knee. He changed, it is true, from the soft infant in the
nurse's arms, to the light, wild, vigorous boy; but in that slow and
gradual change something still remained which showed the same being
was there before my eyes: one day bore over to the next the lineaments
of my dead friend's child; and though in each two months I could see a
difference in the boy, yet there were the same eyes looked upon me,
the same lips smiled when I spoke to him. It was like a sapling that I
watched and nourished, increasing in height, putting forth leaves and
flowers, but still the same, whether as the tall tree or the young
shoot."
"You say a faithful servant brought him to you," said the Emperor,
after pausing a moment, when Father George had done speaking; "is that
person still living?"
"He is, my lord, and is here," answered the monk.
"Call him," rejoined the Emperor; and Father George raising his voice,
pronounced the name of Franz Creussen, when immediately from one of
the side aisles, pushed forward between the columns the gigantic form
of the blacksmith: no longer, indeed, in the garb of his trade, but
armed from the neck to the heel in black armour. His head alone was
bare, with the short, curly hair sweeping round his bold face.
"Ah! our good friend the blacksmith, who shod my horse the other day
in the woods," exclaimed the Emperor; "but how is it, friend? You seem
to have changed your trade."
"But taken up my old one, Kaiser," answered the deep thundering voice
of Franz Creussen. "I was bred to arms, and hammered on enemies' heads
before I touched an anvil."
"Then how came you to change one profession for the other?" asked the
Emperor.
"Oh, every man has many reasons for one thing," said Franz Creussen;
"mine were partly a fondness for iron, partly to gain my bread at a
time when no wars were going on, partly to watch and protect this boy,
my dead lord's child."
"Then you, too, know him to be the son of the late Count of
Ehrenstein?" said the Emperor.
"He was the late Count's lady's son," answered Franz Creussen,
bluffly; "and the Count never doubted he was his own."
"And did you bring him to Father George," inquired the Emperor, "at
his mother's death?"
"The case is this, my lord," replied the blacksmith: "I never quitted
the dear good lady for any length of time, from the hour when we set
out from Venice, till the hour when she told me to carry the lad to
Father George of Altenburg, and made me swear that I would watch and
guard him at the peril of my life. I was not always with her, I was
not always in the house; for when we arrived at Augsburg, we had
notice that yon lord, the Count's brother, had seized upon the lands,
had strangled poor Rudolph of Oggersheim, who bore him the tidings of
his brother's fate, and had set men to waylay us and destroy us, so
that he might enjoy the inheritance in peace. It was needful,
therefore, to keep quiet, and to watch shrewdly, too; and I, with the
rest of the men, kept guard about the place, riding here, and riding
there, for news, till we were all obliged to fly together, having
tidings from Father George here, that the Baron of Eppenfeld had set
out with all his band, to carry off the lady and her child, and drown
them in the Danube, by orders of yon lord."
"It is false!" cried the Count of Ehrenstein; "it is a bitter
falsehood!"
"False!" thundered Franz Creussen; "if I had you on this side of the
table, I would cleave you to the jaws;" and he ran his hand angrily
over his heated brow; but, the next minute he added with a laugh: "I
will do better, I will convict you. I have a witness here you wot not
of.--Ho! my men, bring in the prisoner, bring in the Baron of
Eppenfeld.--The truth shall appear at length, Count William. Ha! you
tremble and turn pale, to find that he whom you let out of Ehrenstein
has fallen into the hands of Franz Creussen."
The Count of Ehrenstein remained silent; and well he might, for there,
in the presence of the Emperor, guarded by two stout soldiers, stood
the Baron of Eppenfeld, with the same look of careless, almost gay,
indifference which we have seen him bear on so many and so varied
occasions, without a touch of fear, of embarrassment or remorse.
"Ah! plunderer and knave, have you been caught at length?" exclaimed
the Emperor, with his eyes flashing, as he gazed upon the Baron. "By
the Lord that lives! I will put down such as you within this empire,
so that the memory of your cruel deeds and of your terrible punishment
shall become a tale to frighten children with."
"Faith! my good Lord," replied the Baron; "if you do that, you will
have to sweep your house clean; for I am not one whit worse than at
least a half of your good nobles, only I have done what I thought fit
to do somewhat more openly. To take men's purses sword in hand, to my
mind, is not half so bad as to rot their reputation with a smooth
tongue; to make men's merchandise pay toll on the highways of the
world is a better deed than to ruin them by false accusations; to
fight against strong men with harness on their backs, better than to
skin poor boors alive who have no means of defending themselves."
"There is some truth in what you say," replied the Emperor; "yet you
shall find that other men's crimes shall not excuse your own. Now,
what know you of this Lord of Ehrenstein, here?"
"Oh, I know a good deal," answered the Baron, with a careless laugh;
"but look you, Lord Emperor, you have used sharp words to my ear, and
if I take your meaning rightly, you intend to use a sharp axe on my
neck. Now, I say, out upon those fools who babble when they die! The
wolf, the wolf is the brave beast who will not give one howl when the
dogs worry him. If there be any profit in speaking, I will speak; but
if I am to go on the long march, I will troop off in silence. If there
be any choice which is to go, the Lord of Ehrenstein or I, why, I
would decline the honour, and beg him to lead the way; but if I am to
go at all events, I do not need his company. I can travel alone quite
well to the low bed in the dark house."
"Your very words are a confession, robber," replied the Emperor; "and
you shall die whether you speak or not. I will not barter justice due
on one man's head, even for evidence against another, perhaps not less
guilty."
"I can supply the testimony he refuses to give, mighty lord," said
Count Frederick of Leiningen, in a grave tone. "It is with deep regret
that I place in your Majesty's hands these papers, taken by me when we
stormed the castle of Eppenfeld. I have looked over them, and have
held them until now, in the hope that one who was a companion of my
boyhood would show some signs of repentance for deeds so black as
those disclosed this night; but now I am bound to give them up, that
justice may be done. You will there see the price given, or offered,
for the death of Ferdinand of Ehrenstein and his mother, and will find
full proof of the truth of all that good Franz Creussen has advanced."
The Count of Ehrenstein folded his arms upon his chest, and raised his
head haughtily. "All are against me here," he said, in a stern and
bitter tone. "My lord the Emperor, I did not come here prepared for
these charges. False and groundless I pronounce them to be; and false
and groundless I will prove them; but I still require time to call my
own evidence, and to send for some who are now at a distance, but who
can show that this accusation has been devised to ruin me; that those
papers are fabricated; and that this Baron of Eppenfeld has long
threatened me with disclosing the pretended treachery on my part
against my brother's widow, sometimes affirming, sometimes
denying--ay, even in writing--that his charge was true. Here is one
present,--this very reverend priest, the chaplain of Count
Ferdinand,--who has seen his denial of all these charges; nay, more,
who even saw him sign it, and read it over to him."
"Ha! ha! ha! my friend, the knave!" cried the Baron of Eppenfeld. "Say
you so?--say you so? What, these are all lies of my invention, are
they? 'Tis good--'tis mighty good. But now, remember, I spare you no
more. I was quite ready to do you a good turn, and die--if needs must
be--without speaking; but now you turn so ungratefully upon me, all
the truth shall out."
"You see, my mighty lord," said the Count, turning to the Emperor,
"that he is moved by every breath of passion, and not by the simple
voice of truth. Let the priest speak. Did he, or did he not, my
reverend friend, sign a paper, denying all these charges to be true,
after having heard every word written therein read clearly over to
him?"
"Even so," answered the priest, in a deliberate tone; "he heard the
paper read, and made some marks meant for his name, though the
orthography was aught but good; and at the same time he told me, by
way of protest, that he signed to save his life, which you had
threatened to take, by secret means, in prison to gain a chance of
liberty, which you had promised, and to obtain a certain sum of money,
which was to be added, to send him on his way."
There was a deep silence for a minute, while all eyes were fixed upon
the Count of Ehrenstein, whose eyes seemed to grow dim and glassy, and
whose cheek was deadly pale. It was he himself who spoke first,
however, saying, in a faltering tone, "I claim time, my lord; I claim
time to meet an accusation long prepared and carefully devised, and to
bring forward proofs that this youth is not what he pretends to be."
"Time you shall have, Sir," replied the Emperor, sternly, "to meet the
dark charges brought against you. It is but right you should; and we
will see justice done you on that score; though, if it be proved that
this young gentleman is Count of Ehrenstein, to his court, as your
sovereign lord, for all lands you hold, are you amenable for all
crimes done against him. You shall have time, as I have said; but it
shall be in sure custody. Ho! Count Rudolph, advance, and receive the
body of William, calling himself Count of Ehrenstein, to produce
before our Imperial Court, at Spires, when need shall be, on peril of
all that you can forfeit to the empire."
Count Rudolph of Schönborn, came forward with two men-at-arms, and
laid his hand upon the Count of Ehrenstein's shoulder, saying, "Your
sword, my good lord."
The Count gave it up, without vain resistance; and the Emperor
leaned his head upon his hand, with his eyes fixed upon the papers,
as if lost in thought of their contents. At length, after a silent
pause of more than a minute, Ferdinand--whom we have called of
Altenburg--advanced a step, and said, in a low and deferential voice,
"I pray you, mighty Sir, to judge at once the cause between me and my
uncle here present, concerning the lands of Ehrenstein. He came
hither, pledging himself to abide, in all things betwixt him and me,
by the decision of the noble gentlemen whom you found here assembled.
Upon an after-thought, he appealed to your Imperial Majesty; and
though he was barred by previous renunciation, I am as ready to submit
to your high judgment as he can be; but I would fain have it speedy,
as my men even now hold the castle of Ehrenstein, which he left nearly
ungarrisoned, in order to seize me here, if the cause should go
against him. Now I am not disposed to hold, even for an hour, that
which is not mine; and if my claim be not made good this night, I am
ready to withdraw my people from his house."
"You speak well, young gentleman," said the Emperor; "and it is but
fit that, ere the deep and terrible accusation which has been urged
before us be tried upon its merits, we should know whether you be his
vassal or he yours. As far as we have hitherto gone, the weight of
proof seems in your favour; and, casting aside all consideration of
the crimes with which he is charged, we will freely examine your title
as you can further prove it. Remove that Baron of Eppenfeld, till we
can deal with him further."
"Stay, stay," cried the Baron, shaking off the hands of two stout
soldiers, who were about to take him somewhat unceremoniously from the
Emperor's presence; "I can tell you something that will soon settle
all your doubts, if you will promise me good meat and drink.--I mean
warm wine of Ingelheim, or better still, of Eberbach, till I die."
"That you shall have," said the Emperor, with a smile crossing his
face against his will, "if you do clear up all doubts. What is it you
have to say?"
"This," replied the Baron: "When I was setting out for Augsburg, to do
the bidding of my noble friend the Count here, he informed me, in
order to make right sure that I fell into no mistake regarding his
nephew, that the poor man he put to death had told him there was a
cross marked in deep blue upon the boy's left side, above the
heart--stamped there by magic, for aught I know, but so that no water
would bring it out--in memory of his father's journey to the Holy
Land. They are the Count's own words. I am not sure that you may not
find them there in the letter; for I read little, and write less; so
that--as time flies, and memories fly with it--I know not whether the
hint was written or spoken; but be you sure that if the mark be on his
breast, he is the heir. If not, he may be any man else's son, but not
the late good Count of Ehrenstein's--a worthy man he was as ever drew
a sword."
"Ha!" said the Emperor, fixing his eyes upon him; "I thought he had
been your enemy, and curbed, with a strong hand, your lawless doings."
"Ay, my lord Emperor," answered the Baron; "but yet, though the lion
rends us and we fly him, we love him better than the wolf, and own him
for a gallant beast. The last Count was fierce enough with us who live
after the old fashion. He slew William of Feldhofen, and burnt the
castle of John of Bernau; but yet he did it all manly, with notice
given and banner on the wind; man to man, and lance to lance. He was a
true friend or a true enemy, and not like that man, who will use and
betray. But look to the boy's breast. I will swear that the words were
spoken--"
"They are written here," rejoined the Emperor; "but he calls the child
in this letter his brother's bastard, and speaks of the mother as a
concubine."
"That is disproved by these papers, and two competent witnesses,
mighty lord," said the knight who had taken so active a part in
examining the Count's charges against Ferdinand: "the only question
remaining for decision is, whether this youth, who was placed by the
good monk Father George under the care of that noble lord, is the boy
who came with the Countess of Ehrenstein from Venice."
"The monk declares it, and this good man, Franz Creussen, also,"
answered the Emperor; "but the latter is not of noble blood."
Franz Creussen laughed aloud. "Ah, ha!" he said, "as if an honest man
were not an honest man, because he does not wear beasts and birds
embroidered on his shirt. You have there a proof how a proud noble can
lie and cheat;" and he pointed to the Count of Ehrenstein, adding,
"but look at the boy's breast. His uncle writes to have the boy who
was brought to Augsburg killed, and says he is marked with a cross. We
say this is the boy; and if the cross be there, 'tis proof, taken with
our oaths. Then you have the testimony of two knights, and sundry
papers, that the boy so brought was born in lawful wedlock. What want
you more? But if you want it, you shall have it."
"What he says is true," replied the monarch; "the mark here described,
if found upon him, will be strong corroborative evidence."
"It is here, my lord," said Ferdinand, opening the bosom of his
doublet; "I have borne it from a child;" and there, upon his left
breast, appeared in faint blue lines, but perfectly distinct, the
figure of a cross.
"Lucky you bathed not in the good Count's presence," said a voice
behind Count Frederick of Leiningen; "or he would have had out the
heart that pants beneath the cross."
"Well, noble lords," exclaimed the Emperor, not noticing this
interruption, "you have heard the evidence in this strange case; and
to you I will leave the judgment, reserving to myself to see it
carried out, with all regard to speedy justice."
There was a short pause, and then the knight, who was fond of all the
niceties of feudal law, observed, "This good man, Franz Creussen, has
said there can be more evidence brought. It were well that we heard
all that can be testified, so that no doubt may remain on the mind of
any one."
"Stay," said the Emperor: "ere you go farther, in order to give this
lord the chance of atoning for the wrong he has done, and meriting
grace from him whom he has wronged, let him be asked the question,
Does he yield to testimony which to us seems most conclusive?--does he
acknowledge that this is his brother's lawful son? Will he at once
give up lands and lordships he unjustly holds, or will he resist, and
have the whole knavery unravelled to the last thread?"
Few there present had looked at the face of the Count of Ehrenstein
for some minutes, as he stood somewhat behind, with Count Rudolph's
men-at-arms on either side; but had they turned their eyes that way
they would have beheld the working of strong passions on a countenance
long trained to withstand emotions, and still resisting in a degree
their influence.
At first, and especially when the evidence of the Baron of Eppenfeld
was given regarding the cross, he had more than once seemed about to
interrupt the proceedings with some vehement burst of passion; but
gradually his countenance fell, his firmness seemed to forsake him.
His cheek, indeed, could not well grow paler than it had been for some
time; but his lip quivered, his eye sought the ground, his hands
grasping his sword-belt moved convulsively, and even his cheeks looked
wan and hollow. The last words of the Emperor he seemed hardly to
hear; but when Count Rudolph repeated them to him, he started and
replied, after a gasp for breath, "I appeal to a freer court--to a
court--"
"A freer court!" exclaimed the Emperor in an angry tone, while Count
Frederick of Leiningen whispered something to him; but ere the
sentence was finished a loud voice seemed to the Count of Ehrenstein
to cry, "A freer court you shall have. I summon you to the court of
the dead! William of Ehrenstein, appear before the seat of your true
judge!"
At the same moment it appeared to the eyes of the culprit, that the
light of the two torches suddenly went out; the chapel was left almost
in darkness, illuminated only by the small lamp that stood upon the
table. The Emperor and all the knights rose and drew back, as if in
fear; and by the faint rays that streamed down the aisle he beheld a
change on the figures that crowded round. Armed men and officers, and
forms robed in silks and furs disappeared; and sweeping up in a
shadowy circle, there came a line of tall dark figures, each covered
with a long grey garment not unlike a shroud. Each held in the
gauntleted hand, not by the hilt, but by the cold blade, a naked
sword; and behind the semicircle, which stretched from one side of the
chapel to the other, rose a number of old dusty banners and pennons,
tattered and soiled, and stained apparently with blood. A chair--moved
forward by hands that were not seen--was placed in the midst, and one
of the tall grey figures, with the hood of his robe falling far over
the face, and the folds enveloping the chin and mouth, seated itself
therein, and waved the hand as if for silence. Instantly a trumpet was
heard echoing round and round the old walls, and a solemn voice
proclaimed, "William of Ehrenstein, appear before your liege lord and
brother, dead in the year of grace 14--, and answer to the charge of
treason and felony, for that you did incite his vassals to do him to
death; for that you did slay in prison his faithful henchman, Rudolph
of Oggersheim; for that you did attempt to murder his widow and his
son, your lord. Stand forth, and answer to these charges, as God shall
give you courage!" and again came a loud blast of the trumpet.
The Count of Ehrenstein felt himself free, for those who had stood
beside him had drawn back. He gazed wildly round him--took a step
forward--stretched forth his hands as if struck with sudden blindness,
and then fell prone to the ground without sense or motion.