your care of me, but at this crisis of my life--a crisis transforming me
instantly from a girl to a woman--you fail me, seeing me here at bay. I
wished to spend a month or two at the capital city, but before troubling
you with such a request I determined to learn whether or not the state
of Frankfort was as disturbed as rumor alleged. Finding matters there to
be hopeless, the project of a visit was at once abandoned, and knowing
nothing of the honor about to be conferred on Prince Roland, I thought
it best to keep what had been discovered regarding his character a
secret between the Reverend Father and myself. I dare say an attempt
will be made to cast doubt on the Reverend Father's story, and perhaps
my three judges may convince themselves of its falseness, but they
cannot convince me, and I tell you finally and formally that no power on
earth will induce me to marry a marauder and a thief!"
This announcement effectually silenced the one friend she possessed
among the three. Mayence slowly turned his head, and looked upon the
colleague at his right, as much as to say, "Do you wish to add your
quota to this inconsequential talk?"
Treves, at this silent appeal, leaned forward, and spoke to the
perturbed monk, who knew that, in some way he did not quite understand,
affairs were drifting towards a catastrophe.
"Father Ambrose," began the Elector of Treves, "would you kindly tell us
the exact date when this encounter on the bridge took place?"
"Saint Cyrille's Day," replied Father Ambrose.
"And during the night of that day you were incarcerated in the cellar
among the wine-casks?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Would it surprise you to know, Father Ambrose, that during Saint
Cyrille's Day, and for many days previous to that date, Prince Roland
was a close prisoner in his Lordship of Mayence's strong Castle of
Ehrenfels, and that it was quite impossible for you to have met him in
Frankfort, or anywhere else?"
"Nevertheless, I did meet him," persisted Father Ambrose, with the quiet
obstinacy of a mild man.
Treves smiled.
"Where did you lodge in Frankfort, Father?"
"At the Benedictine Monastery in Sachsenhausen."
"Do the good brethren supply their guests with a potent wine? Frankfort
is, and always has been, the chief market of that exhilarating but
illusion-creating beverage."
The cheeks of the Countess flushed crimson at this insinuation on her
kinsman's sobriety. The old monk's hand rested on the arm of her throne,
and she placed her own hand upon his as if to encourage him to resent
the implied slander. After all, they were two Sayns hard pressed by
these ruthless potentates. But Ambrose answered mildly:
"It may be that the monastery contains wine, my Lord, and doubtless the
wine is good, but during my visit I did not taste it."
Cross-examination at an end, the Lord of Mayence spoke scarcely above a
whisper, a trace of weariness in his manner.
"My Lords," he said, "we have wandered from the subject. The romance by
Father Ambrose is but indifferently interesting, and nothing at all to
the point. Even a child may understand what has happened, for it is
merely a case of mistaken identity, and my sympathy goes out entirely
towards the unknown; a man who knew his own mind, and being naturally
indignant at an interference both persistent and uncalled for, quite
rightly immured the meddler among the casks, probably shrewd enough to
see that this practicer of temperance would not interfere with their
integrity.
"Madam, stand up!"
The Countess seemed inclined to disobey this curt order, but a
beseeching look from her now thoroughly frightened guardian changed her
intention, and she rose to her feet.
"Madam, the greatest honor which it is in the power of this Empire to
bestow upon a woman has been proffered to you, and rejected with
unnecessary heat. I beg therefore, to inform you, that in the judgment
of this Court you are considered unworthy of the exalted position which,
before knowing your true character, it was intended you should fill. The
various calumnies you have poured upon the innocent head of Prince
Roland amount in effect to high treason."
"Pardon, my Lord!" cried the Archbishop of Cologne, "your contention
will hold neither in law nor in fact. High treason is an offense that
can be committed only against the realm as a whole, or against its ruler
in person. Prince Roland is not yet Emperor of Germany, and however much
we may regret the language used in his disparagement, it has arisen
through a misunderstanding quite patent to us all. A good but dreamy man
made a mistake, which, however deplorable, has been put forward with a
sincerity that none of us can question; indeed, it was the intention of
Father Ambrose to keep his supposed knowledge a secret, and you both saw
with what evident reluctance he spoke when commanded to do so by my
colleague of Treves. Whatever justice there may be in disciplining
Father Ambrose, there is none at all for exaggerated censure upon my
lady, the Countess of Sayn, and before pronouncing a further censure I
beg your Lordship to take into consideration the circumstances of the
case, by which a young girl, without any previous warning or
preparation, is called upon suddenly to make the most momentous decision
of her life. I say it is to her ladyship's credit that she refused the
highest station in the land in the interests of what she supposes to be,
however erroneously, the cause of honesty, sobriety, and, I may add, of
Christianity; qualities for which we three men should stand."
"My Lord," objected Treves, "we meet here as temporal Princes, and not
as Archbishops of the Church."
"I know that, my brother of Treves, and my appeal is to the temporal
law. Prince Roland, despite his high lineage, is merely a citizen of the
Empire, and a subject of his Majesty, the Emperor. It is therefore
impossible that the crime of treason can be committed against him."
During this protest and discussion the Elector of Mayence had leaned
back again in his usual attitude of tired indifference; his keen eyes
almost closed. When he spoke he made no reference to what either of his
two confrères had said.
"Madam," he began, without raising his voice, "it is the sentence of
this Court that you shall be imprisoned during its pleasure in the
Castle of Pfalzgrafenstein, which stands on a rock in the middle of the
Rhine. Under the guardianship of the Pfalzgraf von Stahleck, who will be
responsible for your safe keeping, I hope you will listen to the devout
counsel of his excellent wife to such effect that when next you are
privileged to meet a Court so highly constituted as this you may be
better instructed regarding the language with which it should be
addressed. You are permitted to take with you two waiting-women, chosen
by yourself from your own household, but all communication with the
outside world is forbidden. You said something to the effect that this
Court dared not pronounce such sentence against you, but if you
possessed that wisdom you so conspicuously lack, you might have surmised
that a power which ventured to imprison the future Emperor of this land
would not hesitate to place in durance a mere Countess von Sayn."
The Countess bowed her head slightly, and without protest sat down
again. The Elector of Cologne arose.
"My Lord, I raised a point of law which has been ignored."
"This is the proper time to raise it," replied Mayence, "and you shall
be instantly satisfied. This Court is competent to give its decision
upon any point of law. If my Lord of Treves agrees with me, your
objection is disallowed."
"I agree," said the Elector of Treves.
"My Lord of Cologne," said Mayence, turning towards the person
addressed, "the decision of the Court is against you."
Hildegunde was already learning a lesson. Although dazed by the verdict,
she could not but admire the quiet, conversational tone adopted by the
three men before her, as compared with her own late vehemence.
"The decision of the Court is not unexpected," said Cologne, "and I
regret that I am compelled to appeal."
"To whom will you appeal?" inquired Mayence mildly, "The Emperor, as you
know, is quite unfit for the transaction of public business, and even if
such were not the case, would hesitate to overturn a decision given by a
majority of this Court."
"I appeal," replied Cologne, "to a power that even Emperors must obey;
the power of physical force."
"You mean," said Mayence sadly, "to the three thousand men concealed in
the forest behind this house in which you are an honored guest?"
The Elector of Cologne was so taken aback by this almost whispered
remark that he was momentarily struck speechless. A sudden pallor swept
the usual ruddiness from his face. The Lord of Mayence gently inclined
his head as if awaiting an answer, and when it did not come, went on
impassively:
"I may inform you, my Lord, that my army occupies the capital city of
Frankfort, able and ready to quell any disturbance that may be caused by
the announcement of the Emperor's death, but there are still plenty of
seasoned troops ready to uphold the decisions of this Court. When your
spies scoured the country in the forests, and along the river almost to
the gates of my city of Mayence, they appeared to labor under the
illusion that I could move my soldiers only overland. Naturally, they
met no sign of such an incursion, because I had requisitioned a hundred
barges which I found empty in the river Main by Frankfort. These were
floated down the Main to Mayence, and there received their quota of a
hundred men each. The night being dark they came down the Rhine, it
seems, quite unobserved, and are now concealed in the mouth of the river
Lahn directly opposite this Castle.
"When my flag is hoisted on the staff of the main tower this flotilla
will be at the landing below us within half an hour. You doubtless have
made similar arrangements for bringing your three thousand down upon
Stolzenfels, but the gates of this Castle are now closed. Indeed,
Stolzenfels was put in condition to withstand a siege very shortly after
you and your ward entered it, and it is garrisoned by two hundred
fighting men, kindly provided at my suggestion by my brother of Treves.
I doubt if its capture is possible, even though you gave the signal,
which we will not allow. Of course, your plan of capturing Treves and
myself was a good one could it be carried out, for a man in jeopardy
will always compromise, and as I estimate you are in that position I
should be glad to know what arrangement you propose."
The Archbishop of Cologne did not reply, but stood with bent head and
frowning brow. It was the Countess von Sayn who, rising, spoke:
"My Lord Archbishop of Mayence," she said, "I could never forgive myself
if through action of mine a fatal struggle took place between my
countrymen. I have no desire to enact the part of Helen of Troy. I am
therefore ready and willing to be imprisoned, or to marry Prince Roland
of Frankfort, whichever alternative you command, so long as no
disadvantage comes to my friend, his Lordship of Cologne."
"Madam," said Mayence suavely, "there are not _now_ two alternatives, as
you suppose."
"In such case, your Highness, I betake myself instantly to Pfalz Castle,
and I ask that my guardian be allowed to escort me on the journey."
"Madam, your determination is approved, and your request granted, but,
as the business for which the three Electors were convened is not yet
accomplished, I request you to withdraw until such time as an agreement
has been arrived at. Father Ambrose is permitted to accompany you."
The gallant Elector of Treves sprang at once to his feet, pleading for
the privilege of conducting the Countess to the apartments of his sister
and her daughter. As the door to the ante-room opened the Elector of
Cologne, whose eyes followed his departing ward, did not fail to observe
that the lobby was thronged with armed men, and he realized now, if he
had not done so from Mayence's observation, how completely he was
trapped. Even had a hundred thousand of his soldiers stood in readiness
on the hills, it was impossible for him to give the signal bringing them
to his rescue.
A few minutes later the Elector of Treves returned, and took his place
at Mayence's right hand. The latter spoke as though the conference had
been unanimous and amiable.
"Now that we three are alone together, I think we shall discuss our
problems under a feeling of less apprehension if the small army in the
forest is bade God-speed on its way to Cologne. Such being the case," he
went on, turning to Cologne, "would you kindly write an order to that
effect to your commander. Inform him that we three Electors wish to
review your troops from the northern balcony, and bid them file past
from the hills to the river road. They are to cross the Moselle by the
old bridge, and so return to your city. You will perhaps pledge faith
that no signal will be made to your officers as they pass us. I make
this appeal with the greater confidence since you are well aware three
thousand men would but destroy themselves in any attempt to capture this
Castle, with an army of ten thousand on their flank to annihilate them.
Do you agree?"
"I agree," replied Cologne.
He wrote out the order required, and handed it to Mayence, who
scrutinized the document with some care before passing it on to Treves.
Mayence addressed Cologne in his blandest tones:
"Would you kindly instruct our colleague how to get that message safely
into the hands of your commander."
"If he will have it sent to the head of my small escort, ordering him to
take it directly up the hill behind this Castle until he comes to my
sentinels, whom he knows personally, they will allow him to pass
through, and deliver my written command to the officer in charge."
This being done, and Treves once more returned, Mayence said:
"I am sure we all realize that the Countess von Sayn, however admirable
in other respects, possesses an independent mind and a determined will
rendering her quite unsuited for the station we intended her to occupy.
I think her guardian must be convinced now, even though he had little
suspicion of it before, that this lady would not easily be influenced by
any considerations we might place before her. The regrettable incidents
of this conference have probably instilled into her mind a certain
prejudice against us."
Here, for the first time, the Elector of Cologne laughed.
"It is highly probable, my Lord," he said, "and, indeed, your moderate
way of putting the case is unanswerable. Her ladyship as an Empress
under our influence is out of the question. I therefore make a proposal
with some confidence, quite certain it will please you both. I venture
to nominate for the position of Empress that very demure and silent lady
who is niece of my brother the Elector of Treves."
Treves strangled a gasp in its birth, but could not suppress the light
of ambition that suddenly leaped into his eyes. The elevation of his
widowed sister's child to the Imperial throne was an advantage so
tremendous, and came about so unexpectedly, that for the moment his slow
brain was numbed by the glorious prospect. It seemed incredible that
Cologne had actually put forward such a proposition.
The eyes of Mayence veiled themselves almost to shutting point, but in
no other manner did emotion show. Like a flash his alert mind saw the
full purport of the bombshell Cologne had so carelessly tossed between
himself and his henchman. Cologne, having lost everything, had now
proved clever enough to set by the ears those who overruled him by their
united vote. If this girl were made Empress she would be entirely under
the influence of her uncle, of whose household she had been a pliant
member ever since childhood. Yet what was Mayence to do? Should he
object to the nomination, he would at once obliterate the unswerving
loyalty of Treves, and if this happened, Treves and Cologne, joining,
would outvote him, and his objection would prove futile. He would enrage
Treves without carrying his own point, and he knew that he held his
position only because of the dog-like fidelity of the weaker man. Slow
anger rose in his heart as he pictured the conditions of the future.
Whatever influence he sought to exert upon the Emperor by the indirect
assistance of the Empress, must be got at through the complacency of
Treves, who would gradually come to appreciate his own increased
importance.
All this passed through the mind of Mayence, and his decision had been
arrived at before Treves recovered his composure.
"It gives me great pleasure," said the Elector of Mayence, firmly
suppressing the malignancy of his glance towards the man seated on his
left,--"it gives me very great pleasure indeed to second so admirable a
nomination, the more so that I am thus permitted to offer my
congratulations to an esteemed colleague and a valued friend. My Lord of
Treves, I trust that you will make this nomination unanimous, for, to my
delight, his Lordship of Cologne anticipated, by a few moments the
proposal I was about to submit to you."
"My Lord," stammered Treves, finding his voice with difficulty,
"I--I--of course will agree to whatever the Court decides. I--I thank
you, my Lord, and you too, my brother of Cologne."
"Then," cried Mayence, almost joyfully, "the task for which we are
convened is accomplished, and I declare this Court adjourned."
He rose from his chair. The overjoyed Prince at his right took no
thought of the fact that their chairman had not called upon the lady
that she might receive the decision of the conclave and answer the
questions to be put to her, but Cologne perceived the omission, and knew
that from that moment Mayence would set his subtility at work to nullify
the nomination. Even though his bombshell had not exploded, and the two
other Electors were apparently greater friends than ever, Cologne had
achieved his immediate object, and was satisfied.
Through the open windows came the sound of the steady tramping of
disciplined men, and the metallic clash of armor and arms in transit.
"Ah, now," cried Mayence, "we will enjoy the advantage of reviewing the
brave troops of Cologne. Lead the way, my Lord of Treves. You know the
Castle better than we do."
The proud Treves, treading on air, guided his guests to the northern
balcony.
XI
GOLD GALORE THAT TAKES TO ITSELF WINGS
In the thick darkness Roland paced up and down the east bank of the
Rhine at a spot nearly midway between Assmannshausen and Ehrenfels. The
night was intensely silent, its stillness merely accentuated by the
gentle ripple of the water current against the barge's blunt nose, which
pointed upstream. Standing motionless as a statue, the massive figure of
Captain Blumenfels appeared in deeper blackness against the inky hills
on the other side of the Rhine. Long sweeps lay parallel to the bulwarks
of the barge, and stalwart men were at their posts, waiting the word of
command to handle these exaggerated oars, in defiance of wind and tide.
On this occasion, however, the tide only would be against them, for the
strong southern breeze was wholly favorable. Their voyage that night
would be short, but strenuous; merely crossing the river, and tying up
against the opposite bank; but the Rhine swirled powerfully round the
rock of Ehrenfels above them, and the men at the sweeps must pull
vigorously if they were not to be carried down into premature danger.
Roland, who when they left Frankfort was in point of time the youngest
member of the guild, now seemed, if one could distinguish him through
the gloom of the night, to have become years older, and there was an
added dignity in his bearing, for, although now but a potential
freebooter, he had received assurance that he would be eventually
elected Emperor.
He had sent word that morning to Greusel at the Golden Anker, bidding
him get together his men, and lead them up to the barge not later than
an hour before the moon rose, for Roland was anxious to reach the other
side of the Rhine unseen from either shore. He cautioned Greusel to make
his march a silent one, and this order Joseph at first found some
difficulty in carrying out, but in any case he need have entertained no
fear. The strong red wine of Assmannshausen is a potent liquid, and the
inhabitants of the town were accustomed to song and laughter on the one
street of the place at all hours of the night.
When they arrived, the men were quiet enough, and speedily stowed
themselves away in their quarters at the stern of the barge, whereupon
Roland, the last to spring aboard, waved his hand at the captain to cast
off. The nose of the boat was shoved away from land, and then the
powerful sweeps dipped into the water. Slowly but surely she made her
way across the river; silent and invisible from either bank. The
current, however, swept them down opposite the twinkling lights of
Assmannshausen, after which, in the more tranquil waters of the western
shore, they rowed steadily upstream for about half a league, and then,
with ropes tied round trees growing at the water's edge, laid up for the
remainder of the night.
Roland now counseled his company to enjoy what sleep was possible, as
they would be roused at the first glint of daybreak; so, with great
good-nature, each man wrapped himself up in his cloak and lay down on
the cabin floor.
When the eastern sky became gray, the slumberers were awakened, and a
ration of bread and wine served to each. The captain already had
received his instructions, and the men discarding their cloaks, followed
their leader into the still gloomy forest. Here, with as little noise as
might be, they climbed the steep wooded hill, and arriving at something
almost like a path, a hundred yards up from the river, they turned to
the right, and so marched, no man speaking above a whisper.
The forest became lighter and lighter, and at last Roland, holding up
his hand to sign caution, turned to the left from the path, and farther
up into the unbroken forest. They had traversed perhaps a league when
another silent order brought them to a standstill, and peering through
the trees to the east, the men caught glimpses of the grand, gray
battlements of that famous stronghold, Rheinstein, seeing at the corner
nearest them a square tower, next a machicolated curtain of wall, and a
larger square tower almost as high as the first hanging over the
precipice that descended to the Rhine. Inside this impregnable enclosure
rose the great bulk of the Castle itself, and near at hand the massive
square keep, with an octagonal turret on the southeast corner, the top
of which was the highest point of the stronghold, although a round tower
rising directly over the Rhine was not much lower.
Roland, advancing through the trees, but motioning his men to remain
where they were, peered across to the battlements and down at the
entrance gate.
Baron von Hohenfels sat so secure in his elevated robber's nest, which
he deemed invincible--and, indeed, the cliff on which it stood, nearly a
hundred yards high, made it so if approached from the Rhine--that he
kept only one man on watch, and this sentinel was stationed on the
elevated platform of the round tower. Roland saw him yawn wearily as he
leaned against his tall lance, and was glad to learn that even one man
kept guard, for at first he feared that all within the Castle were
asleep, the round tower, until Roland had shifted his position to the
north, being blotted out by the nearer square donjon keep. Now
satisfied, he signaled his men to sit down, which they did. He himself
took up a position behind a tree, where, unseen, he could watch the man
with the lance.
So indolent was the sentry that Roland began to fear the barge would
pass by unnoticed. Not for months had any sailing craft appeared on the
river, and doubtless the warden regarded his office as both useless and
wearisome. Brighter and brighter became the eastern sky, and at last a
tinge of red appeared above the hills across the silent Rhine. Suddenly
the guardian straightened up, then, shading his eyes with his right
hand, he leaned over the battlements, peering to the south. A moment
later the stillness was rent by a lusty shout, and the man disappeared
as if he had fallen through a trap-door. Presently the notes of a bugle
echoed within the walls, followed by clashes of armor and the buzzing
sound of men, as though a wasp's nest had been disturbed. Half a dozen
came into sight on top of the various towers and battlements, glanced at
the river, and vanished as hastily as the sentinel had done.