Now, as I was saying, Greusel, if anything happens to me, you carry on
the enterprise along the lines I have laid down. The first thing, of
course, is to reach Assmannshausen."
"Nothing can happen to you before we arrive there," hazarded Greusel.
"I'm not so sure. The sun is very powerful to-day, and should it beat me
down, let me lie where I fall, and allow nothing to interrupt the march.
Once at Assmannshausen, you two must keep a sharp lookout up the river.
When you see the barge, gather your men and lead them up to it. It is to
await us about half a league above Assmannshausen."
The three conversed until the hour was consumed, then Roland, throwing
his cloak over his arm, rose, and said to his lieutenant:
"Just rouse the men, if you please; and you, Ebearhard, tell the
landlord to give each a flagon of wine. We take the road to Wiesbaden. I
shall walk slowly on ahead, so that you and the company may overtake
me."
With this the young leader sauntered indifferently away, leaving to his
subordinates the ungracious task of setting tired men to their work
again. Greusel looked glum, but Ebearhard laughed.
Some distance to the east of Wiesbaden the leader deflected his company
from the road, and thus they passed Wiesbaden to the left, arriving at
the village of Sonnenberg. The straggling company made a halt for a
short time, while provisions were purchased, every man carrying his own
share, which was scantly sufficient for supper and breakfast, and a
quantity of wine was acquired to gratify each throat with about a liter
and a half; plenty for a reasonable thirst, but not enough for a
carouse.
The company grumbled at being compelled to quit Sonnenberg. They had
hoped to spend the night at Wiesbaden, and vociferously proclaimed
themselves satisfied with the amount of country already traversed. Their
leader said nothing, but left Greusel and Ebearhard to deal with them.
He paid for the provisions and the wine, and then, with his cloak
loosely over his arm, struck out for the west, as if the declining sun
were his goal. The rest followed him slowly, in deep depression of
spirits. They were in a wild country, unknown to any of them. The hills
had become higher and steeper, and there was not even a beaten path to
follow; but Roland, who apparently knew his way, trudged steadily on in
advance even of his lieutenants. A bank of dark clouds had risen in the
east, the heat of the day being followed by a thunderstorm that growled
menacingly above the Taunus mountains, evidently accompanying a torrent
of rain, although none fell in the line of march.
The sun had set when the leader brought his company down into the valley
of the Walluf, about two and a half leagues from Sonnenberg. Here the
men found themselves in a wilderness through which ran a brawling
stream. Roland announced to them that this would be their camping place
for the night. At once there was an uproar of dissent. How were they to
camp out without tents? A heavy rain was impending. Listen to the
thunder, and taking warning from the swollen torrent.
"Wrap your cloaks around you," said Roland, "and sleep under the trees.
I have often done it myself, and will repeat the experience to-night. If
you are not yet tired enough to ensure sound slumber, I shall be
delighted to lead you on for another few leagues."
The men held a low-voiced, sullen consultation, gathered in a circle.
They speedily decided upon returning to Sonnenberg, which it was the
unanimous opinion of the company they should never have left. Townsmen
all, who had not in their lives spent a night without a roof over their
heads, such accommodation as their leader proposed they should endure
seemed like being cast away on a desert island. The mystery of the
forest affrighted them. For all they could tell the woods were full of
wild animals, and they knew that somewhere near lurked outlaws no less
savage. The eighteen, ignoring Greusel and Ebearhard, who stood on one
side, watching their deliberations with anxious faces, moved in a body
upon their leader, who sat on the bank of the torrent, his feet dangling
down towards the foaming water.
"We have resolved to return to Sonnenberg," said the leader of the
conclave.
"An excellent resolution," agreed Roland cheerfully. "It is a pleasant
village, and I have passed through it several times. By the way,
Wiesbaden, which is much larger, possesses the advantage to tired men of
being half a league nearer."
The spokesman seemed taken aback by Roland's nonchalant attitude.
"We do not know the road to Wiesbaden, and, indeed, are in some doubt
whether or no we can find our way to Sonnenberg with darkness coming
on."
"Then if I were you, I shouldn't attempt it. Why not eat your supper,
and drink your wine in this sheltering grove?"
"By that time it will be as dark as Erebus," protested the spokesman.
"Then remain here, as I suggested, for the night."
"No; we are determined to reach Sonnenberg. A storm impends."
"In that case, gentlemen, don't let me detain you. The gloom thickens as
you spend your time in talk."
"Oh, that's all very well, but when we reach Sonnenberg we shall need
money."
"So you will."
"And we intend to secure it."
"Quite right."
"We demand from you three thalers for each man."
"Oh, you want the money from me?"
"Yes, we do."
"That would absorb all the funds I possess."
"No matter. We mean to have it."
"You propose to take it from me by force?"
"Yes."
"Ah, well, such being the case, perhaps it would be better for me to
yield willingly?"
"I think so."
"I quite agree with you. There are eighteen of you, all armed with
swords, while I control but one blade."
Saying this he unfastened his cloak, which he had put on in the
gathering chill of the evening, and untying from his belt a well-filled
wallet, held it up to their gaze.
"As this bag undisputedly belongs to me, I have a right to dispose of it
as I choose. I therefore give it to the brook, whose outcry is as
insistent as yours, and much more musical."
"Stop, Roland, stop!" shouted Ebearhard, but the warning came too late.
The young man flung the bag into the torrent, where it disappeared in a
smother of foam. He rose to his feet and drew his sword.
"If you wish a fight now, it will be for the love of it, no filthy lucre
being at stake."
"By Plutus, you are an accursed fool!" cried the spokesman, making no
further show of aggression now that nothing but steel was to be gained
by a contest.
"A fool; yes!" said Roland. "And therefore the better qualified to lead
all such. Now go to Sonnenberg, or go to Hades!"
The men did neither. They sat down under the trees, ate their supper,
and drank their wine.
"Will you dine with me?" said Roland, approaching his two gloomy
lieutenants, who stood silent at some distance from the circle formed by
the others.
"Yes," said Greusel sullenly, "but I would have dined with greater
pleasure had you not proven the spokesman's words true."
"You mean about my being a fool? Oh, you yourself practically called me
that this morning. Come, let us sit down farther along the stream, where
they cannot overhear what we say."
This being done, Roland continued cheerfully:
"I may explain to you that a week ago I had only a wallet of my own, but
before leaving on this journey I called upon my mother, and she
presented me with another bag. I foresaw during _mittagessen_ that a
demand would be made upon us for money, therefore I borrowed all that
you two possessed. Walking on ahead, I prepared for what I knew must
come, filling the empty wallet with very small stones picked up along
the road. That wallet went into the stream. It is surprising how prone
human nature is to jump at conclusions. Why should any of you think that
I am simpleton enough to throw away good money? Dear, dear, what a world
this is, to be sure!"
Half an hour later all were lying down enveloped in their cloaks,
sleeping soundly because of their fatigue, despite being out of doors.
Next morning there was consternation in the camp, real or pretended.
Roland was nowhere to be found, nor did further search reveal his
whereabouts.
VIII
THE MISSING LEADER AND THE MISSING GOLD
Probably because of the new responsibility resting upon him, Joseph
Greusel was the first to awaken next morning. He let his long cloak fall
from his shoulders as he sat up, and gazed about him with astonishment.
It seemed as if some powerful wizard of the hills had spirited him away
during the night. He had gone to sleep in a place of terror. The thunder
rolled threateningly among the peaks of Taunus, and the reflection of
the lightning flash, almost incessant in its recurrence, had lit up the
grove with an unholy yellow glare. The never-ceasing roar of the foaming
torrent, which in the darkness gleamed with ghostly pallor, had somehow
got on his nerves. Under the momentary illumination of the lightning,
the waves appeared to leap up at him like a pack of hungry wolves,
flecked with froth, and the noise strove to emulate the distant thunder.
The grove itself was ominous in its gloom, and sinister shapes seemed to
be moving about among the trees.
How different was the aspect now! The sun was still beneath the eastern
horizon. The cloudless sky gave promise of another warm day, and the
air, of crystalline clearness, was inspiring to breathe. To Greusel's
mind, tinged with religious feeling, the situation in which he found
himself seemed like a section of the Garden of Eden. The stream, which
the night before had been to his superstitious mind a thing of terror,
was this morning a placid, smiling, rippling brook that a man might
without effort leap across.
He rubbed his eyes in amazement, thinking the mists of sleep must be
responsible for this magic transformation, until he remembered the
distant thunderstorm of the night before among the eastern mountains,
and surmised that a heavy rainfall had deluged these speedily drained
peaks and valleys.
"What a blessed thing," he said to himself fervently, "is the
ever-recurring morning. How it clears away the errors and the passions
of darkness! It is as if God desired to give man repeated opportunities
of reform, and of encouragement. How sane everything seems now, as
compared with the turbulence of the sulphurous night."
As he rose he became aware of an unaccustomed weight by his side, and
putting down his hand was astonished to encounter a bag evidently filled
with coin. It had been tied by its deerskin thong to his belt, just as
was his own empty wallet. He sat down again, drew it round to the front
of him, and unfastened it. Pouring out the gold, he found that the
wallet contained a hundred and fifteen thalers, mostly in gold, with the
addition of a few silver coins. At once it occurred to him that these
were Roland's sixty thalers, his own thirty, and Ebearhard's
twenty-five. For some reason, probably fearing the men would suspect the
ruse practiced on them the night before, Roland had made him treasurer
of the company. But why should he have done it surreptitiously?
Readjusting the leathern sack, he again rose to his feet, but now cast
his cloak about him, thus concealing the purse. Ebearhard lay sound
asleep near him. Farther away the eighteen remaining members of the
company were huddled closely together, as if they had gone to rest in a
room too small for them, although the whole country was theirs from
which to choose sleeping quarters.
Remembering how the brook had decreased in size, and was now running
clear and pellucid, he feared that the bag of stones Roland had so
dramatically flung into it might be plainly visible. He determined to
rouse his commander, and seek the bag for some distance downstream; for
he knew that when the men awakened, all night-fear would have departed
from them, and seeing the shrinkage of the brook they might themselves
institute a search.
On looking round for Roland he saw no sign of him, but this caused
little disquietude, for he supposed that the leader had risen still
earlier than himself, wishing to stroll through the forest, or up and
down the rivulet.
Greusel, with the purpose of finding the bag, and in the hope, also, of
encountering his chief, walked down the valley by the margin of the
waterway. Peering constantly into the limpid waters, he discovered no
trace of what he sought. Down and down the valley, which was wooded all
the way, he walked, and sometimes he was compelled to forsake his liquid
guide, and clamber through thickets to reach its border again.
At last he arrived at a little waterfall, and here occurred a break in
the woods, causing him to stand entranced by the view which presented
itself. Down the declivity the forest lasted for some distance, then it
gave place to ever-descending vineyards, with here and there a house
showing among the vines. At the foot of this hill ran a broad blue
ribbon, which he knew to be the Rhine, although he had never seen it
before. Over it floated a silvery gauze of rapidly disappearing mist.
The western shore appeared to be flat, and farther along the horizon was
formed by hills, not so lofty as that on which he stood, but beautiful
against the blue sky, made to seem nearer than they were by the first
rays of the rising sun, which tipped the summits with crimson.
Greusel drew a long breath of deep satisfaction. He had never before
realized that the world was so enchanting and so peaceful. It seemed
impossible that men privileged to live in such a land could find no
better occupation than cutting one another's throats.
The gentle plash of the waterfall at his right hand accentuated the
stillness. From his height he glanced down into the broad, pellucid
pool, into whose depths the water fell, and there, perfectly visible,
lay the bag of bogus treasure. Cautiously he worked his way down to the
gravelly border of the little lake, flung off his clothes, and plunged
head-first into this Diana's pool. It was a delicious experience, and he
swam round and round the circular basin, clambered up on the gravel and
allowed the stream to fall over his glistening shoulders, reveling in
Nature's shower-bath. Satisfied at length, he indulged in another
rainbow plunge, grasped the bag, and rose again to the surface. Coming
ashore, he unloosened the swollen thongs, poured out the stones along
the strand, then, after a moment's thought, he wrung the water out of
the bag itself, and tied it to his belt, for there was no predicting
where the men would wander when once they awoke, and if he threw it away
among the bushes, it might be found, breeding first wonder how it came
there, and then suspicion of the trick.
Greusel walked back to camp by the other bank of the stream. Although
the early rays of the sun percolated through the upper branches of the
trees above them, the eighteen prone men slept as if they were but
seven. He sprang over the brook, touched the recumbent Ebearhard with
his foot, and so awoke him. This excellent man yawned, and stretched out
his arms above his head.
"You're an early bird, Greusel," he said. "Have you got the worm?"
"Yes, I have," replied the latter. "I found it in the basin of a
waterfall nearly a league from here," and with that he drew aside his
cloak, showing the still wet but empty bag.
For a few moments Ebearhard did not understand. He rose and shook
himself, glancing about him.
"Great Jove!" he cried, "this surely isn't the stream by which we lay
down last night? Do you mean to tell me that thread of water struck
terror into my heart only a few hours ago? I never slept out of doors
before in all my life, and could not have imagined it would produce such
an effect. I see what you mean now. You have found the bag which Roland
threw into the foaming torrent."
"Yes; I was as much astonished at the transformation as you when I
awoke, and then it occurred to me that when our friends saw the
reduction of the rivulet, they would forthwith begin a treasure-hunt, so
I determined to obliterate the evidence."
"Was the bag really full of stones?"
"Oh, yes."
"Well, that is a lesson to me. I believe after all that Roland is
helplessly truthful, but last night I thought he befooled us. I was
certain it was the bag of coin he had thrown away, and becoming ashamed
of himself, had lied to us."
"How could you imagine that? He showed us both the bag of money."
"He produced a bag full of something, but I, being the doubting Thomas
of the group, was not convinced it contained money."
"Ah, that reminds me, Ebearhard; here is the bag we saw last night. I
discovered it attached to my belt this morning."
"He attached it to the wrong belt, then, for you believed him. He should
have tied it to mine. What reason does he give for presenting it to
you?"
"Ah, now you touch a point of anxiety in my own mind. I have seen
nothing of Roland this morning. I surmised that he had arisen before me,
and expected to meet him somewhere down the stream, but have not done
so."
"He may have gone farther afield. As you found the bag, he of course,
missed it, and probably continued his search."
"I doubt that, because I came upon a point of view reaching to the Rhine
and the hills beyond. I could trace the stream for a considerable
distance, and watched it for a long time, but there appeared to be
nothing alive in the forest."
"You don't suppose he has gone back to Frankfort, do you?"
"I am at loss what to think."
"If he has abandoned this gang of malcontents, I should be the last to
blame him. The way these pigs acted yesterday was disgraceful, ending up
their day with rank mutiny and threats of violence. By the iron Cross,
Greusel, he has forsaken this misbegotten lot, and it serves them
perfectly right, prating about comradeship and carrying themselves like
cut-throats. This is Roland's method of returning our money, for I
suppose that bag contains your thirty thalers and my twenty-five."
"Yes, and his own sixty as well. Poor disappointed devil, generous to
the last. It was he who obtained all the money at the beginning, then
these drunken swine spend it on wine, and prove so generous and brave
that eighteen of them muster courage enough to face one man, and he the
man who had bestowed the gold upon them."
"Greusel, the whole situation fills me with disgust. I propose we leave
the lot sleeping there, go to Wiesbaden for breakfast, and then trudge
back to Frankfort. It would serve the brutes right."
"No," said Greusel quietly; "I shall carry out Roland's instructions."
"I thought you hadn't seen him this morning?"
"Not a trace of him. You heard his orders at Breckenheim."
"I don't remember. What were they?"
"That if anything happened to him, I was to drive the herd to
Assmannshausen. I quite agree with you, Ebearhard, that he is justified
in deserting this menagerie, but, on the other hand, you and I have
stood faithfully by him, and it doesn't seem to me right that he should
leave us without a word. I don't believe he has done so, and I expect
any moment to see him return."
"You're wrong, Greusel. He's gone. That purse is sufficient explanation,
and as you recall to my mind his instructions, I believe something of
this must have suggested itself to him even that early in the day. He
has divested himself of every particle of money in his possession,
turning it over to you, but instead of returning to Frankfort he has
made his way over the hills to Assmannshausen, and will await us there."
"What would be the object of that?"
"One reason may be that he will learn whether or not you have enough
control over these people to bring them to the Rhine. He will satisfy
himself that your discipline is such as to improve their manners. It may
be in his mind to resign, and make you leader, if you prove yourself
able to control them."
"Suppose I fail in that?"
"Well, then--this is all fancy, remember--I imagine he may look round
Assmannshausen to find another company who will at least obey him."
"What you say sounds very reasonable. Still, I do not see why he should
have left two friends like us without a word."
"A word, my dear Greusel, would have led to another, and another, and
another. One of the first questions asked him would be 'But what are
Ebearhard and I to do?' That's exactly what he doesn't wish to answer.
He desires to know what you will do of your own accord. He is likely
rather hopeless about this mob, but is giving you an opportunity, and
then another chance. Why, his design is clear as that rivulet there, and
as easily seen through. You will either bring those men across the
hills, or you won't. If you and I are compelled to clamber over to
Assmannshausen alone, Roland will probably be more pleased to see us
than if we brought this rogues' contingent straggling at our heels. He
will appoint you chief officer of his new company, and me the second. If
you doubt my conclusions, I'll wager twenty-five thalers against your
thirty that I am in the right."
"I never gamble, Ebearhard, especially when certain to lose. You are a
shrewder man than I, by a long bowshot."
In a work of fiction it would of course be concealed till the proper
time came that all of these men were completely wrong in their
prognostications regarding the fate of Roland, but this being history it
may be stated that the young man had not the least desire to test
Greusel's ability, nor would his lieutenants find him awaiting them when
they reached Assmannshausen.
"Hello! Rouse up there! What have we for breakfast? Has all the wine
been drunk? I hope not. My mouth's like a brick furnace!"
It was the brave Kurzbold who spoke, as he playfully kicked, not too
gently, those of his comrades who lay nearest him. He was answered by
groans and imprecations, as one by one the sleeping beauties aroused
themselves, and wondered where the deuce they were.
"Who has stolen the river?" cried Gensbein.
"Oh, stealing the river doesn't matter," said a third. "It's only
running water. Who drank all the wine? That's a more serious question."
"Well, whoever's taken away the river, I can swear without searching my
pouch has made no theft from me, for I spent my last stiver yesterday."
"Don't boast," growled Kurzbold. "You're not alone in your poverty.
We're all in the same case. Curse that fool of a Roland for throwing
away good money just when it's most needed."
"Good money is always most needed," exclaimed the philosophic Gensbein.
He rose and shook himself, then looked down at the beautiful but
unimportant rivulet.
"I say, lads, were we as drunk as all that last night? Was there an
impassable torrent here or not?"
"How could we be drunk, you fool, on little more than a liter of wine
each," cried Kurzbold.
"Please be more civil in your talk," returned his friend. "You were
drunk all day. The liter and a half was a mere nightcap. If you are
certain there was a torrent, then I must have been in the same condition
as yourself."
The spokesman of the previous night, who had been chided for not
springing on Roland before he succeeded in doing away with the treasure,
here uttered a shout.
"This water," he said, "is clear as air. You can see every pebble at the
bottom. Get to work, you sleepyheads, and search down the stream. We'll
recover that bag yet, and then it's back to Sonnenberg for breakfast.
Whoever finds it, finds it for the guild; a fair and equal division
amongst us. That is, amongst the eighteen of us. I propose that Roland,
Greusel, and Ebearhard do not share. They were all in the plot to rob
us."
"Agreed!" cried the others, and the treasure-hunt impetuously began.
Greusel and Ebearhard watched them disappear through the forest down the
stream.
"Greusel," said Ebearhard, "what a deplorable passion is the frantic
quest for money in these days, especially money that we have not earned.
Our excited treasure-hunters do not realize that at such a moment in the
early morning the only subject worth consideration is breakfast. Being
unsparing and prodigal last night, it would take a small miracle of the
fishes to suffice them to-day. There is barely enough for two hungry
men, and as we are rid of these chaps for half an hour at least, I
propose we sit down to our first meal."
Greusel made no comment upon this remark, but the advice commended
itself to him, for he followed it.