"Will you be seated, mein Herr," said his host; and Roland,

THE

SWORD MAKER

BY

ROBERT BARR

AUTHOR OF

"TEKLA" "CARDILLAC" "THE VICTORS"

"IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS"

ETC.

NEW YORK

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY

PUBLISHERS

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY

June, 1910

TABLE OF CONTENTS

I. AN OFFER TO OPEN THE RIVER

II. THE BARGAIN IS STRUCK

III. DISSENSION IN THE IRONWORKERS' GUILD

IV. THE DISTURBING JOURNEY OF FATHER AMBROSE

V. THE COUNTESS VON SAYN AND THE ARCHBISHOP OF COLOGNE

VI. TO BE KEPT SECRET FROM THE COUNTESS

VII. MUTINY IN THE WILDERNESS

VIII. THE MISSING LEADER AND THE MISSING GOLD

IX. A SOLEMN PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE

X. A CALAMITOUS CONFERENCE

XI. GOLD GALORE THAT TAKES TO ITSELF WINGS

XII. THE LAUGHING RED MARGRAVE OF FURSTENBERG

XIII. "A SENTENCE; COME, PREPARE!"

XIV. THE PRISONER OF EHRENFELS

XV. JOURNEYS END IN LOVERS' MEETING

XVI. MY LADY SCATTERS THE FREEBOOTERS AND CAPTURES THEIR CHIEF

XVII. "FOR THE EMPRESS, AND NOT FOR THE EMPIRE"

XVIII. THE SWORD MAKER AT BAY

XIX. THE BETROTHAL IN THE GARDEN

XX. THE MYSTERY OF THE FOREST

XXI. A SECRET MARRIAGE

XXII. LONG LIVE THEIR MAJESTIES

THE SWORD MAKER

I

AN OFFER TO OPEN THE RIVER

Considering the state of the imperial city of Frankfort, one would not

expect to find such a gathering as was assembled in the Kaiser cellar of

the Rheingold drinking tavern. Outside in the streets all was turbulence

and disorder; a frenzy on the part of the populace taxing to the utmost

the efforts of the city authorities to keep it within bounds, and

prevent the development of a riot that might result in the partial

destruction at least of this once prosperous city. And indeed, the

inhabitants of Frankfort could plead some excuse for their

boisterousness. Temporarily, at any rate, all business was at a

standstill. The skillful mechanics of the town had long been out of

work, and now to the ranks of the unemployed were added, from time to

time, clerks and such-like clerical people, expert accountants,

persuasive salesmen, and small shopkeepers, for no one now possessed the

money to buy more than the bare necessities of life. Yet the warehouses

of Frankfort were full to overflowing, with every kind of store that

might have supplied the needs of the people, and to the unlearned man it

seemed unjust that he and his family should starve while granaries were

packed with the agricultural produce of the South, and huge warehouses

were glutted with enough cloth from Frankfort and the surrounding

districts to clothe ten times the number of tatterdemalions who clamored

through the streets.

The wrath of the people was concentrated against one man, and he the

highest in the land; to blame, of course, in a secondary degree, but not

the one primarily at fault for this deplorable state of things. The

Emperor, always indolent from the time he came to the throne, had grown

old and crabbed and fat, caring for nothing but his flagon of wine that

stood continually at his elbow. Laxity of rule in the beginning allowed

his nobles to get the upper hand, and now it would require a civil war

to bring them into subjection again. They, sitting snug in their

strongholds, with plenty of wine in their cellars and corn in their

bins, cared nothing for the troubles of the city. Indeed, those who

inhabited either bank of the Rhine, watching from their elevated castles

the main avenue of traffic between Frankfort and Cologne, her chief

market, had throughout that long reign severely taxed the merchants

conveying goods downstream. During the last five years, their exactions

became so piratical that finally they killed the goose that laid the

golden eggs, so now the Rhine was without a boat, and Frankfort without

a buyer.

For too long Frankfort had looked to the Emperor, whose business it was

to keep order in his domain, and when at last the merchants, combining

to help themselves, made an effort towards freedom, it was too late. The

result of their combination was a flotilla of nearly a hundred boats,

which, gathering at Frankfort and Mayence, proceeded together down the

river, convoyed by a fleet containing armed men, and thus they thought

to win through to Cologne, and so dispose of their goods. But the robber

Barons combined also, hung chains across the river at the Lorely rocks,

its narrowest part, and realizing that this fleet could defeat any

single one of them, they for once acted in concert, falling upon the

boats when their running against the chains threw them into confusion.

The nobles and their brigands were seasoned fighters all, while the

armed men secured by the merchants were mere hirelings, who fled in

panic; and those not cut to pieces by their savage adversaries became

themselves marauders on a small scale, scattered throughout the land,

for there was little use of tramping back to the capital, where already

a large portion of the population suffered the direst straits.

Not a single bale of goods reached Cologne, for the robbers divided

everything amongst themselves, with some pretty quarrels, and then they

sank the boats in the deepest part of the river as a warning, lest the

merchants of Frankfort and Mayence should imagine the Rhine belonged to

them. Meantime, all petitions to the Emperor being in vain, the

merchants gave up the fight. They were a commercial, not a warlike

people. They discharged their servants and underlings, and starvation

slowly settled down upon the distressed city.

After the maritime disaster on the Rhine, some of the merchants made a

futile attempt to amend matters, for which their leaders paid dearly.

They appealed to the seven Electors, finding their petitions to the

Emperor were in vain, asking these seven noblemen, including the three

warlike Archbishops of Cologne, Treves, and Mayence, to depose the

Emperor, which they had power to do, and elect his son in his stead. But

they overlooked the fact that a majority of the Electors themselves, and

probably the Archbishops also, benefited directly or indirectly by the

piracies on the Rhine. The answer to this request was the prompt hanging

of three leading merchants, the imprisonment of a score of others, and a

warning to the rest that the shoemaker should stick to his last, leaving

high politics to those born to rule. This misguided effort caused the

three Archbishops to arrest Prince Roland, the Emperor's only son, and

incarcerate him in Ehrenfels, a strong castle on the Rhine belonging to

the Archbishop of Mayence, who was thus made custodian of the young man,

and responsible to his brother prelates of Cologne and Treves for the

safe-keeping of the Prince. The Archbishops, as has been said, were too

well satisfied with the weak administration then established at

Frankfort to wish a change, so the lad was removed from the capital,

that the citizens of Frankfort might be under no temptation to place him

at their head, and endeavor to overturn the existing order of things.

This being the state of affairs in Frankfort, with every one gloomy, and

a majority starving, it was little wonder that the main cellar of the

Rheingold tavern should be empty, although when times were good it was

difficult to find a seat there after the sun went down. But in the

smaller Kaiser cellar, along each side of the single long table, sat

young men numbering a score, who ate black bread and drank Rhine wine,

to the roaring of song and the telling of story. They formed a close

coterie, admitting no stranger to their circle if one dissenting voice

was raised against his acceptance, yet in spite of this exclusiveness

there was not a drop of noble blood in the company. They belonged,

however, to the aristocracy of craftsmen; metal-workers for the most

part, ingenious artificers in iron, beaters of copper, fashioners of

gold and silver. Glorious blacksmiths, they called themselves; but now,

like every one else, with nothing to do. In spite of their city

up-bringing all were stalwart, well-set-up young men; and, indeed, the

swinging of hammers is good exercise for the muscles of the arm, and in

those turbulent days a youth who could not take care of himself with his

stick or his fists was like to fare ill if he ventured forth after

nightfall.

This, indeed, had been the chief reason for the forming of their guild,

and if one of their number was set upon, the secret call of the

organization shouted aloud brought instant help were any of the members

within hearing. Belonging neither to the military nor the aristocracy,

they were not allowed to wear swords, and to obtain this privilege was

one of the objects of their organization. Indeed, each member of the

guild secretly possessed a weapon of the best, although he risked his

neck if ever he carried it abroad with him. Among their number were

three of the most expert sword makers in all Germany.

These three sword makers had been instrumental in introducing to their

order the man who was now its leader. This youth came to one of them

with ideas concerning the proper construction of a sword, and the

balancing of it, so that it hung easily in the hand as though part of

the fore-arm. Usually, the expert has small patience with the theories

of an amateur; but this young fellow, whose ambition it was to invent a

sword, possessed such intimate knowledge of the weapon as it was used,

not only in Germany, but also in France and Italy, that the sword maker

introduced him to fellow-craftsmen at other shops, and they taught him

how to construct a sword. These instructors, learning that although, as

Roland laughingly said, he was not allowed to wear a sword, he could

wield it with a precision little short of marvelous, the guild gave

permission for this stranger to be a guest at one of their weekly

meetings at the Kaiser cellar, where he exhibited his wonderful skill.

Not one of them, nor, indeed, all of them together, stood any chance

when confronting him. They clamored to be taught, offering good money

for the lessons, believing that if they acquired but a tithe of his

excellence with the blade they might venture to wear it at night, and

let their skill save them from capture. But the young fellow refused

their money, and somewhat haughtily declined the rôle of fencing-master,

whereupon they unanimously elected him a member of the coterie, waiving

for this one occasion the rule which forbade the choice of any but a

metal-worker. When the stranger accepted the election, he was informed

that it was the duty of each member to come to the aid of his brethren

when required, and they therefore requested him to teach them

swordsmanship. Roland, laughing, seeing how he had been trapped, as it

were, with his own consent, acceded to the universal wish, and before a

year had passed his twenty comrades were probably the leading swordsmen

in the city of Frankfort.

Shortly after the disaster to the merchants' fleet at the Lorely, Roland

disappeared without a word of farewell to those who had come to think so

much of him. He had been extremely reticent regarding his profession, if

he had one, and no one knew where he lodged. It was feared that the

authorities had arrested him with the sword in his possession, for he

grew more reckless than any of the others in carrying the weapon. One

night, however, he reappeared, and took his seat at the head of the

table as if nothing had happened. Evidently he had traveled far and on

foot, for his clothes were dusty and the worse for wear. He refused to

give any account of himself, but admitted that he was hungry, thirsty,

and in need of money.

His hunger and thirst were speedily satisfied, but the money scarcity

was not so easily remedied. All the score were out of employment, with

the exception of the three sword makers, whose trade the uncertainty of

the times augmented rather than diminished. To cheer up Roland, who was

a young fellow of unquenchable geniality, they elected him to the empty

honor of being their leader, Kurzbold's term of office having ended.

The guild met every night now, instead of once a week, and it may be

shrewdly suspected that the collation of black bread and sausage formed

the sole meal of the day for many of them. Nevertheless, their hilarity

was undiminished, and the rafters rang with song and laugh, and echoed

also maledictions upon a supine Government, and on the rapacious Rhine

lords. But the bestowal of even black bread and the least expensive of

wine could not continue indefinitely. They owed a bill to the landlord

upon which that worthy, patient as he had proved himself, always hoping

for better times, wished for at least something on account. All his

other customers had deserted him, and if they drank at all, chose some

place where the wine was thin and cheap. The landlord held out bravely

for three months after Roland was elected president, then, bemoaning his

fate, informed the guild that he would be compelled to close the

Rheingold tavern.

"Give me a week!" cried Roland, rising in his place at the head of the

table, "and I will make an effort to get enough gold to settle the bill

at least, with perhaps something over for each of our pockets."

This promise brought forth applause and a rattle of flagons on the

table, so palpably empty that the ever-hopeful landlord proceeded

forthwith to fill them.

"There is one proviso," said Roland, as they drank his health in the

wine his offer produced. "To get this money I must do something in

return. I have a plan in mind which it would be premature to disclose.

If it succeeds, none of us will ever need to bend back over a workman's

bench again, or hammer metal except for our own pleasure. But acting

alone I am powerless, so I must receive your promise that you will stand

by any pledge I make on your behalf, and follow me into whatever danger

I choose to lead you."

There was a great uproar at this, and a boisterous consent.

"This day week, then," said Roland, as he strapped sword to side, threw

cloak over shoulders, so that it completely concealed the forbidden

weapon, waved a hand to his cheering comrades, and went out into the

night.

Once ascended the cellar steps, the young man stood in the narrow street

as though hesitating what to do. Faintly there came to him the sound of

singing from the cellar he had quitted, and he smiled slightly as he

listened to the rousing chorus he knew so well. From the direction of

the Palace a more sinister echo floated on the night air; the

unmistakable howl of anger, pain, and terror; the noise that a pursued

and stricken mob makes when driven by soldiers. The populace had

evidently been engaged in its futile and dangerous task of

demonstrating, and proclaiming its hunger, and the authorities were

scattering it; keeping it ever on the move.

It was still early; not yet ten o'clock, and a full moon shone over the

city, unlighted otherwise. Drawing his cloak closer about him, Roland

walked rapidly in an opposite direction to that from which the tumult of

the rabble came, until he arrived at the wide Fahrgasse, a street

running north and south, its southern end terminating at the old bridge.

Along this thoroughfare lived the wealthiest merchants of Frankfort.

Roland turned, and proceeded slowly towards the river, critically

examining the tall, picturesque buildings on either hand, cogitating the

question which of them would best answer his purpose. They all seemed

uninviting enough, for their windows were dark, most of them tightly

shuttered; and, indeed, the thoroughfare looked like a street of the

dead, the deserted appearance enhanced, rather than relieved, by the

white moonlight lying on its cobble-stones.

Nearing the bridge, he discovered one stout door ajar, and behind it

shone the yellow glow of a lamp. He paused, and examined critically the

façade of the house, which, with its quiet, dignified architectural

beauty, seemed the abode of wealth. Although the shutters were closed,

his intent inspection showed him thin shafts of light from the chinks,

and he surmised that an assemblage of some sort was in progress,

probably a secret convention, the members of which entered unannounced,

and left the door ajar ready for the next comer.

For a moment he thought of venturing in, but remembering his mission

required the convincing of one man rather than the persuasion of a

group, he forbore, but noted in his mind the position and designation of

the house, resolving to select this building as the theater of his first

effort, and return to it next morning. It would serve his purpose as

well as another.

Roland's attention was then suddenly directed to his own position,

standing in the bright moonlight, for there swung round from the river

road, into the Fahrgasse, a small and silent company, who marched as one

man. The moon was shining almost directly up the street, but the houses

to the west stood in its radiance, while those in the east were still in

shadow. Roland pressed himself back against the darkened wall to his

left, near the partially opened door; between it and the river. The

silent procession advanced to the door ajar, and there paused, forming

their ranks into two lines, thus making a passage for a tall,

fine-looking, bearded man, who walked to the threshold, then turned and

raised his bonnet in salute.

"My friends," he said, "this is kind of you, and although I have been

silent, I ask you to believe that deeply I appreciate your welcome

escort. And now, enter with me, and we will drink a stoup of wine

together, to the somber toast, 'God save our stricken city!'"

"No, no, Herr Goebel. To-night is sacred. We have seen you safely to

your waiting family, and at that reunion there should be no intruders.

But to-morrow night, if you will have us, we will drink to the city, and

to your own good health, Herr Goebel."

This sentiment was applauded by all, and the merchant, seeing that they

would not accept his present invitation, bowed in acquiescence, and bade

them good-by. When the door closed the delegation separated into units,

and each went his own way. Roland, stepping out of the shadow, accosted

the rearmost man.

"Pardon me, mein Herr," he said, "but may I ask what ceremony is this in

which you have been taking part?"

The person accosted looked with some alarm at his questioner, but the

moonlight revealed a face singularly gentle and winning; a face that in

spite of its youth inspired instinctive confidence. The tone, too, was

very persuasive, and seemed devoid even of the offense of curiosity.

"'Tis no ceremony," said the delegate, "but merely the return home of

our friend, Herr Goebel."

"Has he, then, been on a journey?"

"Sir, you are very young, and probably unacquainted with Frankfort."

"I have lived here all my life," said Roland. "I am a native of

Frankfort."

"In that case," replied the other, "you show yourself amazingly ignorant

of its concerns; otherwise you would know that Herr Goebel is one of the

leading merchants of the city, a man honorable, enlightened, and

energetic--an example to us all, and one esteemed alike by noble or

peasant. We honor ourselves in honoring him."

"Herr Goebel should be proud of such commendation, mein Herr, coming I

judge, from one to whom the words you use might also be applied."

The merchant bowed gravely at this compliment, but made no remark upon

it.

"Pardon my further curiosity," continued the young man, "but from whence

does Herr Goebel return?"

"He comes from prison," said the other. "He made the mistake of thinking

that our young Prince would prove a better ruler than his father, our

Emperor, and but that the Archbishops feared a riot if they went to

extremes, Herr Goebel ran great danger of losing his life rather than

his liberty."

"What you say, mein Herr, interests me very much, and I thank you for

your courtesy. My excuse for questioning you is this. I am moved by a

desire to enter the employ of such a man as Herr Goebel, and I purpose

calling upon him to-morrow, if you think he would be good enough to

receive me."

"He will doubtless receive you," replied the other, "but I am quite

certain your mission will fail. At the present moment none of us are

engaging clerks, however competent. Ignorant though you are of civic

affairs, you must be aware that all business is at a standstill in

Frankfort. Although Herr Goebel has said nothing about it, I learn from

an unquestionable source that he himself is keeping from starvation all

his former employees, so I am sure he would not take on, for a stranger,

any further obligation."

"Sir, I am well acquainted with the position of affairs, and it is to

suggest a remedy that I desire speech with Herr Goebel. I do not possess

the privilege of acquaintance with any merchant in this city, so one

object of my accosting you was to learn, if possible, how I might secure

some note of introduction to the merchant that would ensure his

receiving me, and obtain for me a hearing when once I had been admitted

to his house."

If Roland expected the stranger to volunteer such a note, he quite

underestimated the caution of a Frankfort merchant.

"As I said before, you will meet with no difficulty so far as entrance

to the house is concerned. May I take it that you yourself understand

the art of writing?"

"Oh yes," replied Roland.

"Then indite your own letter of introduction. Say that you have evolved

a plan for the redemption of Frankfort, and Herr Goebel will receive you

without demur. He will listen patiently, and give a definite decision

regarding the feasibility of your project. And now, good sir, my way

lies to the left. I wish you success, and bid you good-night."

The stranger left Roland standing at the intersection of two streets,

one of which led to the Saalhof. They had been approaching the

Romerberg, or market-place, the center of Frankfort, when the merchant

so suddenly ended the conversation and turned aside. Roland remembered

that no Jew was allowed to set foot in the Romerberg, and now surmised

the nationality of his late companion. The youth proceeded alone through

the Romerberg, and down directly to the river, reaching the spot where

the huge Saalhof faced its flood. Roland saw that triple guards

surrounded the Emperor's Palace. The mob had been cleared away, but no

one was allowed to linger in its precincts, and the youth was gruffly

ordered to take himself elsewhere, which he promptly did, walking up the

Saalgasse, and past the Cathedral, until he came once more into the

Fahrgasse, down which he proceeded, pausing for another glance at

Goebel's house, until he came to the bridge, where he stood with arms

resting on the parapet, thoughtfully shaping in his mind what he would

say to Herr Goebel in the morning.

Along the opposite side of the river lay a compact mass of barges; ugly,

somber, black in the moonlight, silent witnesses to the ruin of

Frankfort. The young man gazed at this melancholy accumulation of

useless floating stock, and breathed the deeper when he reflected that

whoever could set these boats in motion again would prove himself,

temporarily at least, the savior of the city.

When the bells began to toll eleven, Roland roused himself, walked

across the bridge to Sachsenhausen, and so to his squalid lodging,

consoling himself with the remembrance that the great King Charlemagne

had made this his own place of residence. Here, before retiring to bed,

he wrote the letter which he was to send in next day to Herr Goebel,

composing it with some care, so that it aroused curiosity without

satisfying it.

It was half-past ten next morning when Roland presented himself at the

door of the leading merchant in the Fahrgasse, and sent in to that

worthy his judiciously worded epistle. He was kept waiting in the hall

longer than he expected, but at last the venerable porter appeared, and

said Herr Goebel would be pleased to receive him. He was conducted up

the stair to the first floor, and into a front room which seemed to be

partly library and partly business office. Here seated at a stout table,

he recognized the grave burgher whose home-coming he had witnessed the

night before.

The keen eyes of the merchant seemed to penetrate to his inmost thought,

and it struck Roland that there came into them an expression of

disappointment, for he probably did not expect so youthful a visitor.

"Will you be seated, mein Herr," said his host; and Roland, with an

inclination of the head, accepted the invitation. "My time is very

completely occupied to-day," continued the elder man, "for although

there is little business afoot in Frankfort, my own affairs have been

rather neglected of late, and I am endeavoring to overtake the arrears."

"I know that," said Roland. "I stood by your doorcheek last night when

you returned home."

"Did you so? May I ask why?"

"There was no particular reason. It happened that I walked down the

Fahrgasse, endeavoring to make up my mind upon whom I should call

to-day."

"And why have I received the preference?"

"Perhaps, sir, it would be more accurate to say your house received the

preference, if it is such. I was struck by its appearance of solidity

and wealth, and, differing from all others in the door being ajar, I

lingered before it last night with some inclination to enter. Then the

procession which accompanied you came along. I heard your address to

your friends, and wondered what the formality was about. After the door

was closed I accosted one of those who escorted you, and learned your

name, business, and reputation."

"You must be a stranger in Frankfort when you needed to make such

inquiry."

"Those are almost the same words that my acquaintance of last night

used, and he seemed astonished when I replied that I was born in

Frankfort, and had lived here all my life."

"Ah, I suppose no man is so well known as he thinks he is, but I venture

to assert that you are not engaged in business here."

"Sir, you are in the right. I fear I have hitherto led a somewhat

useless existence."

"On money earned by some one else, perhaps."

"Again you hit the nail on the head, Herr Goebel. I lodge on the other

side of the river, and coming to and fro each day, the sight of all

those useless barges depresses me, and I have formulated a plan for

putting them in motion again."

"I fear, sir, that wiser heads than yours have been meditating upon that

project without avail."

"I should have been more gratified, Herr Goebel, if you had said 'older

heads.'"

The suspicion of a smile hovered for a brief instant round the shrewd,

firm lips of the merchant.

"Young sir, your gentle reproof is deserved. I know nothing of your

wisdom, and so should have referred to the age, and not to the equipment

of your head. It occurs to me, as I study you more closely, that I have

met you before. Your face seems familiar."

"'Tis but a chance resemblance, I suspect. Until very recently I have

been absorbed in my studies, and rarely left my father's house."

"I am doubtless mistaken. But to return to our theme. As you are

ignorant of my name and standing in this city, you are probably unaware

of the efforts already made to remove the deadlock on the Rhine."

"In that, Herr Goebel, you are at fault. I know an expedition of folly

was promoted at enormous expense, and that the empty barges, numbering

something like fivescore, now rest in the deepest part of the Rhine."

"Why do you call it an expedition of folly?"

"Surely the result shows it to be such."

"A plan may meet with disaster, even where every precaution has been

taken. We did the best we could, and if the men we had paid for the

protection of the flotilla had not, with base cowardice, deserted their

posts, these barges would have reached Cologne."

"Never! The defenders you chose were riff-raff, picked up in the gutters

of Frankfort, and you actually supposed such cattle, undisciplined and

untrained, would stand up against the fearless fighters of the Barons,

swashbucklers, hardened to the use of sword and pike. What else was to

be expected? The goods were not theirs, but yours. They had received

their pay, and so speedily took themselves out of danger."

"You forget, sir, or you do not know, that several hundred of them were

cut to pieces."

"I know that, also, but the knowledge does not in the least nullify my

contention. I am merely endeavoring to show you that the heads you spoke

of a moment ago were only older, but not necessarily wiser than mine. It

would be impossible for me to devise an expedition so preposterous."

"What should we have done?"

"For one thing, you should have gone yourselves, and defended your own

bales."

The merchant showed visible signs of a slowly rising anger, and had the

young man's head contained the wisdom he appeared to claim for it, he

would have known that his remarks were entirely lacking in tact, and

that he was making no progress, but rather the reverse. "You speak like

a heedless, untutored youth. How could we defend our bales, when no

merchant is allowed to wear a sword?"

Roland rose and put his hands to the throat of his cloak.

"I am not allowed to wear a sword;" and saying this, he dramatically

flung wide his cloak, displaying the prohibited weapon hanging from his

belt. The merchant sat back in his chair, visibly impressed.

"You seem to repose great confidence in me," he said. "What if I were to

inform the authorities?"

The youth smiled.

"You forget, Herr Goebel, that I learned much about you from your friend

last night. I feel quite safe in your house."

He flung his cloak once more over the weapon, and sat down again.

"What is your occupation, sir?" asked the merchant.

"I am a teacher of swordsmanship. I practice the art of a

fencing-master."

"Your clients are aristocrats, then?"

"Not so. The class with which I am now engaged contains twenty skilled

artisans of about my own age."

"If they do not belong to the aristocracy, your instruction must be

surreptitious, because it is against the law."

"It is both surreptitious and against the law, but in spite of these

disadvantages, my twenty pupils are the best swordsmen in Frankfort, and

I would willingly pit them against any twenty nobles with whom I am

acquainted."

"So!" cried the merchant. "You are acquainted with twenty nobles, are

you?"

"Well, you see," explained the young man, flushing slightly, "these

metal-workers whom I drill, being out of employment, cannot afford to

pay for their lessons, and naturally, as you indicated, a fencing-master

must look to the nobles for his bread. I used the word acquaintance

hastily. I am acquainted with the nobles in the same way that a clerk in

the woolen trade might say he was acquainted with a score of merchants,

to none of whom he had ever spoken."

"I see. Am I to take it that your project for opening the Rhine depends

for its success on those twenty metal-workers, who quite lawlessly know

how to handle their swords?"

"Yes."

"Tell me what your plan is."

"I do not care to disclose my plan, even to you."

"I thought you came here hoping I should further your project, and

perhaps finance it. Am I wrong in such a surmise?"

"Sir, you are not. The very first proviso is that you pay to me across

this table a thousand thalers in gold."

The smile came again to the lips of the merchant.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"Yes. You will select one of your largest barges, and fill it with

whatever class of goods you deal in."

"Don't you know what class of goods I deal in?"

"No! I do not."

Goebel's smile broadened. That a youth so ignorant of everything

pertaining to the commerce of Frankfort, should come in thus boldly and

demand a thousand thalers in gold from a man whose occupation he did not

know, seemed to the merchant one of the greatest pieces of impudence he

had encountered in his long experience of men.

"After all, my merchandise," he said, "matters little one way or another

when I am engaged with such a customer as you. What next?"

"You will next place a price upon the shipload; a price such as you

would accept if the boat reached Cologne intact. I agree to pay you that

money, together with the thousand thalers, when I return to Frankfort."

"And when will that be, young sir?"

"You are better able to estimate the length of time than I. I do not

know, for instance, how long it takes a barge to voyage from Frankfort

to Cologne."

"Given fair weather, which we may expect in July, and premising that

there are no interruptions, let us say a week."

"Would a man journeying on horseback from Cologne to Frankfort reach

here sooner than the boat?"

"The barge having to make headway against a strong current, I should say

the horseman would accomplish the trip in a third of the time."

"Very well. To allow for all contingencies, I promise to pay the money

one month from the day we leave the wharf at Frankfort."

"That would be eminently satisfactory."

"I forgot to mention that I expect you, knowing more about navigation

than I, to supply a trustworthy captain and an efficient crew for the

manning of the barge. I should like men who understand the currents of

the river, and who, if questioned by the Barons, would not be likely to

tell more than they were asked."

"I can easily provide such a set of sailors."

"Very well, Herr Goebel. Those are my requirements. Will you agree to

supply them?"

"With great pleasure, my young and enthusiastic friend, provided that

you comply with one of the most common of our commercial rules."

"And what is that, mein Herr?"

"Before you depart you will leave with me ample security that if I never

see you again, the value of the goods, plus the thousand thalers, will

be repaid to me when the month is past."

"Ah," said the young man, "you impose an impossible condition."

"Give me a bond, then, signed by three responsible merchants."

"Sir, as I am acquainted with no merchant in this city except yourself,

how could I hope to obtain the signature of even one responsible man?"

"How, then, do you expect to obtain my consent to a project which I know

cannot succeed, while I bear all the risk?"

"Pardon me, Herr Goebel. I and my comrades risk our lives. You risk

merely your money and your goods."

"You intend, then, to fight your way down the Rhine?"

"Surely. How else?"

"Supported by only twenty followers?"

"Yes."

"And you hope to succeed where a thousand of our men failed?"

"Yes; they were hirelings, as I told you. With my twenty I could put

them all to flight. Aside from this, I should like to point out to you

that the merchants of Frankfort formed their combination at public

meetings, called together by the burgomaster. There was no secrecy about

their deliberations. Every robber Baron along the Rhine knew what you

were going to attempt, and was prepared for your coming. I intend that

your barge shall leave Frankfort at midnight. My company will proceed

across country, and join her at some agreed spot, probably below

Bingen."

"I see. Well, my young friend, you have placed before me a very

interesting proposal, but I am a business man, and not an adventurer.

Unless you can furnish me with security, I decline to advance a single

thaler, not to mention a thousand."

The young man rose to his feet, and the merchant, with a sigh, seemed

glad that the conference was ended.

"Herr Goebel, you deeply disappoint me."

"I am sorry for that, and regret the forfeiting of your good opinion,

but despite that disadvantage I must persist in my obstinacy."

"I do not wonder that this fair city lies desolate if her prosperity

depends upon her merchants, and if you are chief among them; yet I

cannot forget that you risked life and liberty on my behalf, though now

you will not venture a miserable thousand thalers on my word of honor."

"On _your_ behalf? What do you mean?"

"I mean, Herr Goebel, that I am Prince Roland, only son of the Emperor,

and that you placed your neck in jeopardy to elevate me to the throne."

II

THE BARGAIN IS STRUCK

Every epoch seems to have possessed a two-word phrase that contained, as

it were, the condensed wisdom of the age, and was universally believed

by the people. For instance, the aphorism "Know thyself" rose to

popularity when cultured minds turned towards science. In the period to

which this recital belongs the adage "Blood tells" enjoyed universal

acceptance. It was, in fact, that erroneous statement "The King can do

no wrong" done up into tabloid form. From it, too, sprang that

double-worded maxim of the days of chivalry, "_Noblesse oblige_."

In our own time, the two-worded phrase is "Money talks," and if diligent

inquirers probe deeply into the matter, they will find that the

aspirations of the people always correspond with reasonable accuracy to

the meaning of the phrase then in use. Nothing could be more excellent,

for instance, than the proverb "Money talks" as representing two

commercial countries like America and England. In that short sentence is

packed the essence of many other wise and drastic sayings, as, for

instance, "The devil take the hindmost;" for, of course, if money talks,

then the man without it must remain silent, and his place is at the tail

of the procession, where the devil prowls about like a Cossack at the

rear of Napoleon's army.

Confronting each other in that ancient house on the Fahrgasse, we

witness, then, the personification of the two phrases, ancient and

modern: blood represented by the standing lad, and money by the seated

merchant.

"I am Prince Roland, only son of the Emperor," the young man had said,

and he saw at once by the expression on the face of his host that, could

he be convinced of the truth of the assertion, the thousand thalers that

the Prince had demanded would be his on the instant.

For a full minute Roland thought he had succeeded, but as the surprise

died out of the merchant's countenance, there replaced it that mask of

caution which had had so much to do with the building of his fortune.

During their conference Herr Goebel cudgeled his brain, trying to

remember where he had seen this young man before, but memory had roamed

among clerks, salesmen, and industrious people of that sort where,

somehow, this young fellow did not fit in. When Roland suddenly sprung

on him the incredible statement that he was a member of the Imperial

family, the merchant's recollection then turned towards pageants he had

seen, in one of which this young stranger might very well have borne a

part. Blood was beginning to tell.

But now experience came to the merchant's aid. Only in romances did

princes of the blood royal wander about like troubadours. Even a member

of the lesser nobility did not call unheralded at the house of a

merchant. The aristocracy always wanted money, it is true, "but what

they thought they might require, they went and took," as witness the

piratical Barons of the Rhine, whose exactions brought misery on the

great city of Frankfort.

Then all at once came the clinching remembrance that when the Electors

were appealed to on behalf of the young Prince, the three Archbishops

had promptly seized his Royal Highness, and, in spite of the pleadings

of the Empress (the Emperor was drunk and indifferent) placed him in the

custody of the Archbishop nearest to Frankfort, the warrior prelate of

Mayence, who imprisoned him in the strong fortress of Ehrenfels, from

which, well guarded and isolated as it was upon a crag over-hanging the

Rhine, no man could escape.

"Will you kindly be seated again, sir," requested the merchant, and if

he had spoken a short time before, he would have put the phrase "your

Royal Highness" in the place of the word "sir."

Roland, after a moment's hesitation, sat down. He saw that his coup had

failed, because he was unable to back it up by proofs. His dramatic

action had been like a brilliant cavalry charge, for a moment

successful, but coming to naught because there was no solid infantry to

turn the temporary confusion of the enemy into complete rout. Realizing

that the battle must be fought over again, the Prince sat back with a

sigh of disappointment, a shade of discontent on his handsome face.

"I find myself in rather a quandary," proceeded the merchant. "If indeed

you are the Emperor's son, it is not for such as I to cross-examine

you."

"Ask me any questions you like, sir. I shall answer them promptly

enough."

"If I beg you to supply proof of the statement you make, you would be

likely to reply that as you dared not enter your father's Palace, you

are unable to furnish me with corroboration."

"Sir, you put the case in better language than I could employ. In more

halting terms that is what I should have said."

"When were you last in the Palace?"

"About the same time, sir, that you took up your residence in prison."

"Ah, yes; that naturally would be your answer. Now, my young friend, you

have shown me that you know nothing of mercantile practice; therefore it

may perhaps interest you if I explain some of our methods."

"Herr Goebel, you may save your breath. Such a recital must not only

fail to interest me, but will bore me extremely. I care nothing for your

mercantile procedure, and, to be quite plain with you, I despise your

trade, and find some difficulty in repressing my contempt for those who

practice it."

"If an emissary of mine," returned Goebel, unperturbed, "approached a

client or customer for the purpose of obtaining a favor, and used as

little tact as you do, I should dismiss him."

"I'm not asking any favors from you."

"You wish me to hand over to you a thousand thalers, otherwise why came

you here?"

"I desire to bestow upon you the greatest of boons, namely to open up

the Rhine, and bring back prosperity to Frankfort, which you brainless,

cowardly merchants have allowed to slip through your fingers, blaming

now the Barons, now the Emperor, now the Electors; censuring everybody,

in fact, except the real culprits ... yourselves. You speak of the money

as a favor, but it is merely an advance for a few weeks, and will be

returned to you; yet because I desire to confer this inestimable gift

upon you and your city, you expect me to cringe to you, and flatter you,

as if I were a member of your own sycophantic league. I refuse to do

anything of the kind, and yet, by God, I'll have the money!"

The merchant, for the first time during their conference, laughed

heartily. The young man's face was aflame with anger, yet the truculent

words he used did more to convince Herr Goebel that he belonged to the

aristocracy than if he had spoken with the most exemplary humility.

Goebel felt convinced he was not the Prince, but some young noble, who,

intimate with the Royal Family, and knowing the Emperor's son to be out

of the way, thought it safe to assume his name, the better to carry

forward his purpose, whatever that purpose might actually be. That it

was to open the Rhine he did not for a moment credit, and that he would

ever see his cash again, if once he parted with it, he could not

believe.

"At the risk of tiring you, I shall nevertheless proceed with what I was

about to say. We merchants, for our own protection, contribute to a fund

which might be entitled one for secret service. This fund enables us to

procure private information that may be of value in our business. Among

other things we need to know are accurate details pertaining to the

intentions and doings of our rulers, for whatever our own short-comings

may be, the actions of those above us affect business one way or the

other. May I read you a short report that came in while I was serving my

term of imprisonment?"

"Oh, read what you like," said Roland indifferently, throwing back his

head, and partially closing his eyes, with an air of _ennui_.

The merchant drew towards him a file of papers, and going through them

carefully, selected a document, and drew it forth, then, clearing his

throat, he read aloud--

"'At an hour after midnight, on St. Stanislas' Day, three nobles, one

representing the Archbishop of Mayence, the second the Archbishop of

Treves, and the third the Archbishop of Cologne, armed with authority

from these three Electors and Princes of the Church, entered the Saalhof

from the side facing the river, and arrested in his bed the young Prince

Roland. They assured the Empress, who protested, that the Prince would

be well cared for, and that, as an insurrection was feared in Frankfort,

it was considered safer that the person whom they intended to elevate to

the throne on the event of the Emperor's death, should be out of harm's

way, being placed under the direct care of the Archbishop of Mayence.

They informed the Empress that the Archbishops would not remove the

Prince from the Palace in opposition to the wishes of either the Emperor

or herself, but if this permission was not given, a meeting of the

Electors would at once be called, and some one else selected to succeed

the present ruler.

"'This consideration exerted a great influence upon the Empress, who

counseled her son to acquiesce. The young man was led to a boat then in

waiting by the river steps of the Palace, and so conveyed down the Main

to the Rhine, which was reached just after daybreak. Without landing,

and keeping as much as possible to the middle of the river, the party

proceeded down the Rhine, past Bingen, to the foot of the crag on which

stands the castle of Ehrenfels. The Prince was taken up to the Castle,

where he now remains.

"'The Archbishops from their revenues allot to him seven hundred thalers

a month, in addition to his maintenance. It is impossible for him to

escape from this stronghold unaided, and as the Emperor takes no

interest in the matter, and the Empress has given her consent, he is

like to be an inmate of Ehrenfels during the pleasure of the

Archbishops, who doubtless will not elect him to the throne in

succession unless he proves compliant to their wishes. The Prince being

a young man of no particular force of character'" (the merchant paused

in his reading, and looked across at his _vis-à-vis_ with a smile, but

the latter appeared to be asleep), "'he will probably succumb to the

Archbishops, therefore merchants are advised to base no hopes upon an

improvement in affairs, even though the son should succeed the father.

Despite the precautions taken, the arrest and imprisonment of the

Prince, and even the place of his detention, became rather generally

known in Frankfort, but the news is in the form of rumor only, and

excites little interest throughout the city.'

"There, Sir Roland, what do you say to that?"

"Oh, nothing much," replied Roland. "The account might have stated that

in the boat were five rowers, who worked lustily until we reached the

Rhine, when, the wind being favorable, a sail was hoisted, and with the

current assisting the wind, we made excellent time to Ehrenfels. I

observe, further, that your secret service keeps you very well informed,

and therefore withdraw a tithe of the harsh things I said regarding the

stupidity of the merchants."

"Many thanks for the concession," said Goebel, replacing the document

with its fellows. "Now, as a plain and practical man, what strikes me is

this: you need only return to Ehrenfels for two months, and as there is

little use for money in that fortress, your maintenance being

guaranteed, and seven hundred thalers allowed, you can come away with

four hundred thalers more than the sum you demand from me, and thus put

your project into force without being under obligations to any despised

merchant."

"True, Herr Goebel, but can you predict what will happen in Frankfort

before two months are past? You learn from that document that the shrewd

Archbishops anticipate an insurrection, and doubtless they command the

force at hand ready to crush it, but during this conflict, which you

seem to regard so lightly, does it ever occur to you that the merchants'

palaces along the Fahrgasse may be sacked and burnt?"

"That, of course, is possible," commented the merchant.

"Nay, it is absolutely certain. Civil war means ruin, to innocent and

guilty alike."

"You are in the right. Now, will you tell me how you escaped from

Ehrenfels?"

"Yes; if you agree to my terms without further haggling."

"I shall agree to your terms if I believe your story."

"It seems impossible, sir, to pin you down to any definite bargain. Is

this the way you conduct your business?"

"Yes; unless I am well assured of the good faith of my customer. I

offered you ordinary business terms when I asked for security, or for

the signature of three responsible merchants to your bond. It is because

I am a merchant, and not a speculator, that I haggle, as you term it."