neglected to add, however, a final sentence, and rather than make it
public forfeited her rightful claim to great possessions. Of the
Archbishop's communications to her there remains in our archives a copy
of this last epistle written in his own hand. I cannot imagine why he
added the final clauses to what was in essence an important business
communication. The premonition he admits may have set his thoughts upon
things not of this world, but undoubtedly he believed that he would live
long enough to conquer the rebels of Linz, and restore to the Countess
her property. This is what he wrote, and she refused to publish:
"'Matilda, I feel that my days are numbered, and that their number is
scant. To all the world my life seems to have been successful beyond the
wishes of mortal man, but to me it is a dismal failure, in that I die
bachelor Archbishop of Cologne, and you are the spinster Countess von
Sayn.'"
VI
TO BE KEPT SECRET FROM THE COUNTESS
There are few favored spots occupied by blue water and greensward over
which a greater splendor is cast by the rising sun on a midsummer
morning than that portion of the Rhine near Coblentz, and as our little
procession emerged from the valley of the Saynbach every member of it
was struck with the beauty of the flat country across the Rhine,
ripening toward a yellow harvest, flooded by the golden glory of the
rising sun.
Their route led to the left by the foot of the eastern hills, and not
yet along the margin of the great river. Gradually, however, as they
journeyed in a southerly direction, the highlands deflected them
westward until at last there was but scant room for the road between
rock and water. Always they were in the shade, a comforting feature of a
midsummer journey, an advantage, however, soon to be lost when they
crossed the Rhine by the ferry to Coblentz. The distance from Sayn
Castle to Schloss Stolzenfels was a little less than four leagues, so
their early start permitted a leisurely journey.
The Archbishop and the Countess rode side by side. Following them at
some distance came Father Ambrose, deep in his meditations, and paying
little attention to the horse he rode, which indeed, faithful animal,
knew more about the way than did his rider. Still farther to the rear
rode half a dozen mounted lancemen, two and two, the scant escort of one
who commanded many thousands of armed men.
"How lovely and how peaceful is the scene," said the Countess. "How
beautiful are the fields of waving grain; their color of dawn softened
by the deep green of interspersed vineyards, and the water without a
ripple, like a slumbering lake rather than a strong river. It seems as
though anger, contention, and struggle could not exist in a realm so
heavenly."
"'Seems' is the word to use," commented the Archbishop gravely, "but the
unbroken placidity of the river you so much admire is a peace of defeat.
I had much rather see its flood disturbed by moving barges and the
turmoil of commerce. It is a peace that means starvation and death to
our capital city, and, indeed, in a lesser degree, to my own town of
Cologne, and to Coblentz, whose gates we are approaching."
"But surely," persisted the girl, "the outlook is improving, when you
and I travel unmolested with a mere handful of men to guard us. Time was
when a great and wealthy Archbishop might not stir abroad with less than
a thousand men in his train."
The Archbishop smiled.
"I suppose matters mend," he said, "as we progress in civilized usage.
The number of my escort, however, is not limited by my own modesty, but
stipulated by the Court of Archbishops. Mayence travels down the Rhine
and Treves down the Moselle, each with a similar following at his
heels."
"You are pessimistic this lovely morning, my Lord, and will not even
admit that the world is beautiful."
"It all depends on the point of view, Hildegunde. I regard it from a
position toward the end of life, and you from the charming station of
youth: the far-apart outlook of an old man and a young girl."
"Nonsense, Guardian, you are anything but old. Nevertheless I am much
disappointed with your attitude this morning. I fully expected to be
complimented by you."
"Doesn't my whole attitude breathe of compliment?"
"Ah, but I expected a particular compliment to-day!"
"What have I overlooked?"
"You overlooked the fact that yesterday you aroused my most intense
curiosity regarding the journey we are now taking together, and the
conference which is to follow. Despite deep anxiety to learn what is
before me I have not asked you a single question, nor even hinted at the
subject until this moment. Now, I think I should be rewarded for my
reticence."
"Ah, Countess, you are an exception among women, and I merely withheld
the well-earned praise until such time as I could broach the subject
occupying my mind ever since we left the Castle. With the awkwardness of
a man I did not know how to begin until you so kindly indicated the
way."
"Perhaps, after all, I make a false claim, because I have guessed your
secret, and therefore my deep solicitude is assumed."
"Guessed it?" queried the Archbishop, a shade of anxiety crossing his
face.
"Yes. Your story of the former Archbishop and the Countess Matilda gave
me a clue. You have discovered a document proving my right to the town
of Linz on the Rhine."
The Archbishop bowed his head, but said nothing.
"Your sense of justice urges you to make amends, but such a long time
has elapsed that my claim is doubtless outlawed, and you do not quite
know how restoration may be effected. You have, I take it, consulted
with one or other of your colleagues, Mayence or Treves, or perhaps with
both. They have made objection to your proposed generosity, and put
forward the argument that you are but temporary trustee of the Cologne
Archbishopric; that you must guard the rights of your successor; and
this truism could not help but appeal to that quality of equity which
distinguishes you, so a conference of the prelates has been called, and
a majority of that Court will decide whether or not the town of Linz
shall be tendered to me. Perhaps a suggestion will be made that I allow
things to remain as they are, in which case I shall at once refuse to
accept the town of Linz. Now, Guardian, how near have I come to solving
the mystery?"
They rode along in silence together, the Archbishop pondering on the
problem of her further enlightenment. At last he said:
"Cologne is ruled by its Archbishop, wisely or the reverse as the case
may be. The Archbishop, much as he reveres the opinion of his
distinguished colleagues, would never put them to the inconvenience of
giving a decision on any matter not concerning them. Linz's fate was
settled when the handwriting of my predecessor, prelate of 1250 A.D.,
convinced me that this Rhine town belonged to the House of Sayn.
Restitution has already been accomplished in due legal form, and when
next the Countess Hildegunde rides through Linz, she rides through her
own town."
"I shall never, never accept it, Guardian."
"It is yours now, Countess. If you do not wish to hold the town, use it
as a gift to the fortunate man you marry. And now, Hildegunde, this
long-postponed advice I wish to press upon your attention, must be
given, for we are nearing the ferry to Coblentz, and between that town
and Stolzenfels we may have company. Of the three Archbishops you will
meet to-day, there is only one of whom you need take account."
"Oh, I know that," cried the girl, "his Lordship of Cologne!"
The Archbishop smiled, but went on seriously:
"Where two or three men are gathered together, one is sure to be leader.
In our case the chief of the trio supposed to be equal is his Highness
of Mayence. Treves and I pretend not to be under his thumb, but we are:
that is to say, Treves holds I am under his thumb, and I hold Treves is
under his thumb, and so when one or the other of us join the Archbishop
of Mayence, there is a majority of the Court, and the third member is
helpless."
"But why don't you and Treves join together?"
"Because each thinks the other a coward, and doubtless both are right.
The point of the matter is that Mayence is the iron man of the
combination; therefore I beg you beware of him, and I also entreat you
to agree with the proposal he will make. It will be of tremendous
advantage to you."
"In that case, my Lord, how could I refuse?"
"I hope, my child, you will not, but if you should make objection, do so
with all the tact at your disposal. In fact, refrain wholly from
objection if you can, and plead for time to consider, so that you and I
may consult together, thus affording me opportunity of bringing
arguments to bear that may influence your decision."
"My dear Guardian, you alarm me by the awesome way in which you speak.
What fateful choice hangs over my head?"
"I have no wish to frighten you, my daughter, and, indeed, I anticipate
little chance of disagreement at the conference. I merely desire that
you shall understand something of Mayence. He is a man whom opposition
may drive to extremity, and being accustomed to crush those who disagree
with him, rather than conquer by more diplomatic methods, I am anxious
you should not be led into any semblance of dissent from his wishes. By
agreement between Mayence, Treves, and myself, I am not allowed to
enlighten you regarding the question at issue. I perhaps strain that
agreement a little when I endeavor to put you on your guard. If, at any
point in the discussion, you wish a few moments to reflect, glance
across the table at me, and I shall immediately intervene with some
interruption which must be debated by the three members of the Court. Of
course, I shall do everything in my power to protect you should our grim
friend Mayence lose his temper, as may happen if you thwart him."
"Why am I likely to thwart him?"
"Why indeed? I see no reason. I am merely an old person perhaps
over-cautious. Hence this warding off of a crisis which I hope will
never arise."
"Guardian, I have one question to ask, and that will settle the matter
here on the border of the Rhine, before we reach Stolzenfels. Do you
thoroughly approve, with your heart, mind, and conscience, of the
proposition to be made to me?"
"I do," replied the Archbishop, in a tone of conviction that none could
gainsay. "Heart and soul, agree."
"Then, Guardian, your crisis that never came vanishes. I shall tell his
Lordship of Mayence, in my sweetest voice and most ingratiating manner,
that I will do whatever he requests."
Here the conversation ceased, for the solitude now gave way to a scene
of activity, as they came to the landing alongside which lay the
floating bridge, a huge barge, capable of carrying their whole company
at one voyage. Several hundred persons, on horseback or on foot,
gathered along the river-bank, raised a cheer as the Archbishop
appeared. The Countess thought they waited to greet him, but they were
merely travelers or market people who found their journey interrupted at
this point. An emissary of the Archbishop had commanded the ferry-boat
to remain at its eastern landing until his Lordship came aboard. When
the distinguished party embarked, the crew instantly cast off their
moorings, and the tethered barge, impelled by the swift current, gently
swung across to the opposite shore.
A great concourse of people greeted their arrival at Coblentz, and if
vociferous shouts and hurrahs are signs of popularity, the Archbishop
had reason to congratulate himself upon his reception. The prelate bowed
and smiled, but did not pause at Coblentz, and, to the evident
disappointment of the multitude, continued his way up the Rhine. When
the little cavalcade drew away from the mob, the Countess spoke:
"I had no thought," she said, "that Coblentz contained so many
inhabitants."
"Neither does it," replied the Archbishop.
"Then is this simply an influx of people from the country, and is the
conclave of the Archbishops of such importance that it draws so many
sightseers?"
"The Court held by the Archbishops on this occasion is very important. I
suspect, however, that those are no sightseers, for the general public
is quite unaware that we meet to-day. They who cheered so lustily just
now are, I think, men of Treves."
"Do you mean soldiers?"
"Aye. Soldiers in the dress of ordinary townsmen, but I dare say they
all know where to find their weapons should a war-cry arise."
"Do you imply that the Archbishop of Treves has broken his compact? I
understood that your escort was limited to the few men following you."
His Lordship laughed.
"The Archbishop of Treves," he said, "is not a great strategist, yet I
surmise he is ready in case of trouble to seize the city of Coblentz."
"What trouble could arise?"
"The present moment is somewhat critical, for the Emperor lies dying in
Frankfort. We three Electors hope to avoid all commotion by having our
plans prepared and acting upon them promptly. But the hours between the
death of an Emperor and the appointment of his successor are fateful
with uncertainty. I suppose the good Sisters at Nonnenwerth taught you
about the Election of an Emperor?"
"Indeed, Guardian, I am sorry to confess that if they did I have
forgotten all about it."
"There are seven Electors; four high nobles of the Empire and three
Archbishops, Lords Temporal and Lords Spiritual. The present Count
Palatine of the Rhine is, like my friend Treves, completely under the
dominion of the Archbishop of Mayence, so the three Lords Spiritual,
with the aid of the Count Palatine, form a majority of the Electoral
Court."
"I understand. And now I surmise that you assemble at Stolzenfels to
choose our future Emperor."
"No; he has already been chosen, but his name will not be announced to
any person save one before the Emperor dies."
"Doubtless that one is the Count Palatine."
"No, Countess, he remains ignorant; and I give you warning, Madam, I am
not to be cross-questioned by indirection. You should be merciful: I am
but clay in your hands, yet there is certain information I am forbidden
to impart, so I will merely say that if the Archbishop happens to be in
good-humor this afternoon, he is very likely to tell you who will be the
future Emperor."
The girl gave an exclamation of surprise.
"To tell me? Why should he do so?"
"I said I was not to be cross-examined any further. I tremble now with
apprehension lest I have let slip something I should not, therefore we
will change the subject to one of paramount importance; namely, our
midday meal. I intended to stop at Coblentz for that repast, but the
Archbishop of Treves, whose guests we are, was good enough to accept a
menu I suggested, therefore we will sit at table with him."
"You suggested a menu?"
"Yes; I hope you will approve of it. There is some excellent Rhine
salmon, with a sauce most popular in Treves, a sauce that has been
celebrated for centuries. Next some tender venison from the forest
behind Stolzenfels, which is noted for its deer. There are, beside,
cakes and various breads, also vegetables, and all are to be washed down
by delicate Oberweseler wine. How does my speis-card please you,
Countess?"
"I am committing it to memory, Guardian, so that I shall know what to
prepare for you when next you visit my Castle of Sayn."
"Oh, this repast is not in my honor, but in yours. I feared you might
object to the simplicity of it. It is upon record that this meal was
much enjoyed by a young lady some centuries ago, at this very Castle of
Stolzenfels, shortly after it was completed. Indeed, I think it likely
she was the noble castle's first guest. Stolzenfels was built by Arnold
von Isenberg, the greatest Archbishop that ever ruled over Treves, if I
may except Archbishop Baldwin, the fighter. Isenberg determined to have
a stronghold on the Rhine midway between Mayence and Cologne, and he
made it a palace as well as a fortress, taking his time about it--in all
seventeen years. He began its erection in 1242, and so was building at
the time your ancestress Matilda ceded Linz to the Archbishop of
Cologne, therefore I imagine Cologne probably wished to have a
stronghold within striking distance of Treves' new castle.
"One of the first to visit Stolzenfels was a charming young English girl
named Isabella, who was no other than the youngest daughter of John,
King of England. Doubtless she came here with an imposing suite of
attendants, and I surmise that the great prelate's castle saw impressive
pageants and festivities, for the chronicler, after setting down the
menu whose excellence I hope to test to-day, adds:
"'They ate well, and drank better, and the Royal maiden danced a great
deal.'
"Her brother then occupied the English throne. He was Henry III., and of
course much attention was paid over here to his dancing sister."
"Why, Guardian, what you say gives a new interest to old Stolzenfels. I
have never been within the Castle, but now I shall view it with delight,
wondering through which of the rooms the English Princess danced. Why
did Isabella come from England all the way to the Rhine?"
"She came to meet the three Archbishops."
"Really? For what purpose?"
"That they might in ecclesiastical form, and upon the highest
ecclesiastical authority, announce her betrothal."
"Announce in Stolzenfels the betrothal of an English Princess, the
daughter of one king and sister of another! Did she, then, marry a
German?"
"Yes; she married the Emperor, Frederick II.; Frederick of
Hohenstaufen."
Slowly the girl turned her head, and looked steadfastly at the
Archbishop, who was gazing earnestly up the road as if to catch a
glimpse of the Castle which had been the scene of the events he related.
Her face became pale, and a questioning wonder rose in her eyes. What
did the Archbishop really mean by this latest historical recital? True,
he was a man who had given much study to ancient lore; rather fond of
exhibiting his proficiency therein when he secured patient listeners.
Could there be any secret meaning in his story of the English Princess
who danced? Was there any hidden analogy between the journey of the
English Isabella, and the short trip taken that day by Hildegunde of
Sayn? She was about to speak when the Archbishop made a slight signal
with his right hand, and a horseman who had followed them all the way
from Coblentz now spurred up alongside of his Lordship, who said sharply
to the newcomer:
"How many of Treves' men are in Coblentz?"
"Eight hundred and fifty, my Lord."
"Enough to capture the town?"
"Coblentz is already in their possession, my Lord."
"They seem to be unarmed."
"Their weapons are stored under guard in the Church of St. Castor, and
can be in the hands of the soldiers within a few minutes after a signal
is rung by the St. Castor's bells."
"Are there any troops in Coblentz from Mayence?"
"No, my Lord."
"How many of my men have been placed behind the Castle of Stolzenfels?"
"Three thousand are concealed in the forest near the hilltop."
"How many men has my Lord of Mayence within call?"
"Apparently only the scant half-dozen that reached Stolzenfels with him
yesterday."
"Are you sure of that?"
"Scouts have been sent all through the forest to the south, and have
brought us no word of an advancing company. Other scouts have gone up
the river as far as Bingen, but everything is quiet, and it would have
been impossible for his Lordship to march a considerable number of men
from any quarter towards Stolzenfels without one or other of our hundred
spies learning of the movement."
"Then doubtless Mayence depends on his henchman Treves."
"It would seem so, my Lord."
"Thank you; that will do."
The rider saluted, turned his horse towards the north, and galloped
away, and a few moments later the little procession came within sight of
Stolzenfels, standing grandly on its conical hill beside the Rhine,
against a background of green formed by the mountainous forests to the
rear.
This conversation, which she could not help but hear, had driven
entirely from the mind of Hildegunde the pretty story of the English
Princess.
"Why, Guardian!" she said, "we seem to be in the midst of impending
civil war."
The Archbishop smiled.
"We are in the midst of an assured peace," he replied.
"What! with Coblentz practically seized, and three thousand of your men
lurking in the woods above us?"
"Yes. I told you that Treves was no strategist. I suppose he and Mayence
imagine that by seizing the town of Coblentz they cut off my retreat to
Cologne. They know it would be useless in a crisis for me to journey up
the river, as I should then be getting farther and farther from my base
of supplies both in men and provisions, therefore the Archbishop of
Mayence has neglected to garrison that quarter."
"But, Guardian, you are surely entrapped, with Coblentz thus held?"
"Not so, my child, while I command three thousand men to their eight
hundred."
"But that means a battle!"
"A battle that will never take place, Hildegunde, because I shall seize
something much more valuable than any town, namely, the persons of the
two Archbishops. With their Lordships of Treves and Mayence in my
custody, cut off from communication with their own troops, I have slight
fear of a leaderless army. The very magnitude of the force at my command
is an assurance of peace."
They now arrived at the branching hill-road leading up to the gates of
Stolzenfels just above them, and conversation ceased, but the Countess
was fated to remember before the afternoon grew old the final words
Cologne spoke so confidently.
VII
MUTINY IN THE WILDERNESS
It was a lovely morning in July when Prince Roland walked into the
shadow of the handsome tower which to-day is all that survives of the
Elector's palace at Hochst, on the river Main. He found Greusel there
awaiting him, but none of the others. When the two had greeted one
another, the Prince said:
"Joseph, I determined several days ago to appoint you my lieutenant on
this expedition."
"If you take my advice, Roland, you will do nothing of the kind."
"Why?"
"Because it may be looked upon as favoritism, and so promote jealously
in the ranks, which is a thing to avoid."
"Whom would you suggest for the place?"
"Conrad Kurzbold."
"What! and run the risk of divided authority? I am determined to be
commander, you know."
"Kurzbold, even if made lieutenant, would be as much under your orders
as the rest of us. He is an energetic man, and you may thus direct his
energy along the right path. From being a critic, he will become one of
the criticised, giving him something to think about. Then your
appointment of him would show that you bear no ill-feeling for what he
said last night."
"You appear to think, Greusel, that it is the duty of a commander to
curry favor with his following."
"No; but I regard tact as a useful quality. You see, you are not in the
position of a general with an army. The members of the guild can depose
you whenever they like and elect a successor, or they may desert you in
a body, and you have no redress. Your methods should not be drastic, but
rather those of a man who seeks election to some high office."
"I fear I am not constituted for such a rôle, Greusel."
"If you are to succeed in the task you have undertaken, Roland, you must
adapt yourself to your situation as it actually is, and not as you would
wish to have it. I stood by you yesterday evening, and succeeded in
influencing the others to do the same, yet there is no denying that you
spoke to those men in a most overbearing manner. Why, you could not have
been more downright had you been an officer of the Emperor himself. What
passed through my mind as I listened was, 'Where did this youth get his
swagger?' You ordered Kurzbold out of the ranks, you know."
"Then why favor my action?"
"Because I was reluctant to see a promising marauding adventure wrecked
at the very outset for lack of a few soothing words."
Roland laughed heartily. The morning was inspiring, and he was in good
fettle.
"Your words to Kurzbold were anything but soothing."
"Oh, I was compelled to crush him. He was the cause of the disturbance,
and therefore I had no mercy so far as the affair impinged upon him. But
the others, with the exception of Gensbein perhaps, are good, honest,
sweet-tempered fellows, whom I did not wish to see misled. I think you
must put out of your mind all thought of punishment, no matter what the
offense against your authority may be."