friend of Treves, that I stipulated for Oberweseler."
"Ah! I am anxious to know why."
"For reasons of history, not of the palate. A fair English Princess was
guest of Stolzenfels long ago, and this wine was served to her."
"In that case," returned the Count, "I also shall fall back on history,
and first order brimming tankards of old Caub. Really, Madam," he said,
turning to Hildegunde, "we should have had Royalty here to meet you,
instead of two old wine-bibbers like his Highness and myself."
The girl looked startled at this mention of Royalty, bringing to her
mind the turbulent events of yesterday. Nevertheless, with great
composure, she smiled at her enthusiastic host.
"Still," went on the Count, "if we are not royal ourselves, 'tis a
degree we are empowered to confer, and, indeed, may be very shortly
called upon to bestow. That is true from what I hear, is it not, your
Highness?"
"Yes," replied the Archbishop gravely.
"Well, as I was about to say, this Castle belonged to the Falkensteins,
and was sold by them to the Palatinate. Rumor, legend, history, call it
what you like, asserts that the most beautiful woman ever born on the
Rhine was Countess Beatrice of Falkenstein. But when I drink to the
toast I am about to offer I shall, Madam," he smiled at Hildegunde,
"assert that the legend no longer holds, a contention I am prepared to
maintain by mortal combat. Know then that the Earl of Cornwall, who was
elected King of Germany in 1257, met Beatrice of Falkenstein in this
Castle. The meeting was brought about by the Electors themselves, who,
stupid matchmakers, attempted to coerce each into a marriage with the
other. Beatrice refused to marry a foreigner.
"The Chronicles are a little vague about the most interesting part of
the negotiations, but minutely plain about the outcome. In some manner
the Earl and Beatrice met, and he became instantly enamored of her. This
is the portion so deplorably slurred by these old monkish writers. I
need hardly tell you that the Earl himself succeeded where the seven
Electors failed. Beatrice became Cornwall's wife and Queen of Germany,
and they lived happily ever afterwards.
"I give you the toast!" cried the chivalrous Count Palatine, rising. "To
the cherished memory of the Royal lovers of Gutenfels!"
The Archbishop's eyes twinkled as he looked across the table at
Hildegunde.
"This seems to be a time of Royal betrothals," he said, raising his
flagon.
"'Seems' is the right word, Guardian," replied the Countess.
Then she sipped the ancient wine of Caub.
Next morning Hildegunde was early afoot. Notwithstanding her trouble of
mind, she had slept well, and awakened with the birds, so great is the
influence of youth and health. During her last conscious moments the
night before, as she lay in the stately bed of the most noble room the
Castle contained, she bitterly accused herself for the disastrous
failure of the previous day. The Archbishop of Cologne had given her
good counsel that was not followed, and his disappointment with the
result, generously as he endeavored to conceal it, was doubtless the
deeper because undiscussed. Thinking of coming captivity, a dream of
grim Pfalz was expected, but instead the girl's spirit wandered through
the sweet seclusion of Nonnenwerth, living again that happy, earlier
time, free from politics and the tramp of armed men.
In the morning the porter, at her behest, withdrew bolt, bar, and chain,
allowing exit into the fresh, cool air, and skirting the Castle, she
arrived at a broad terrace which fronted it. A fleecy mist extending
from shore to shore concealed the waters of the Rhine, and partially
obliterated the little village of Caub at the foot of the hill. Where
she stood the air was crystal clear, and she seemed to be looking out on
a broad snow-field of purest white. Beyond Caub its surface was pierced
by the dozen sharp pinnacles of her future prison, looking like a bed of
spikes, upon which one might imagine a giant martyr impaled by the
verdict of a cruel Archbishop.
Gazing upon this nightmare Castle, whose tusks alone were revealed, the
girl formulated the resolution but faintly suggested the night before.
On her release should ensue an abandonment of the world, and the
adoption of a nun's veil in the convent opposite Drachenfels, an island
exchanged for an island; turmoil for peace.
At breakfast she met again the jovial Count Palatine, and her more sober
guardian, who both complimented her on the results of her beauty rest,
the one with great gallantry, the other with more reserve, as befitted a
Churchman. The Archbishop seemed old and haggard in the morning light,
and it was not difficult to guess that no beauty sleep had soothed his
pillow. It wrung the girl's heart to look at him, and again she accused
herself for lack of all tact and discretion, wishing that her guardian
took his disappointment more vengefully, setting her to some detested
task that she might willingly perform.
The hospitable Count, eager that they should stop at least another night
under his roof, pressed his invitation upon them, and the Archbishop
gave a tacit consent.
"If the Countess is not too tired," said Cologne, "I propose that she
accompany me on a little journey I have in view farther up the river. We
will return here in the evening."
"I should be delighted," cried Hildegunde, "for all sense of fatigue has
been swept away by a most restful night."
The good-natured Count left them to their own devices, and shortly
afterwards guardian and ward rode together down the steep declivity to
the river. The mist was already driven away, except a wisp here and
there clinging to the gray surface of the water, trailing along as if
drawn by the current, for the air was motionless, and there was promise
of a sultry day. They proceeded in silence until a bend in the Rhine
shut Caub and its sinister water-prison out of sight, and then it was
the girl who spoke.
"Guardian," she said, "have I offended you beyond forgiveness?"
A gentle smile came to his lips as he gazed upon her with affection.
"You have not offended me at all, my dear," he said, "but I am grieved
at thwarting circumstance."
"I have been thinking over circumstances too, and hold myself solely to
blame for their baffling opposition. I will submit without demur to
whatever length of imprisonment may please, and, if possible, soften the
Archbishop of Mayence. After my release I shall ask your consent that I
may forthwith join the Sisterhood at Nonnenwerth. I wish to divide my
wealth equally between yourself and the convent."
The Archbishop shook his head.
"I could not accept such donation."
"Why not? The former Archbishop of Cologne accepted Linz from my
ancestress Matilda."
"That was intended to be but a temporary loan."
"Well; call my benefaction temporary if you like, to be kept until I
call for it, but meanwhile to be used at your discretion."
"It is quite impossible," said the Archbishop firmly.
"Does that mean you will not allow me to adopt the religious life?"
"It means, my child, that I should not feel justified in permitting this
renunciation of the world until you knew more of what you were giving
up."
"I know enough already."
"You think so, but your experience of it is too recent for us to expect
unbiased judgment this morning. I should insist on a year, at least, and
preferably two years, part of that time to be spent in Frankfort and in
Cologne. I anticipate a great improvement in Frankfort when the new
Emperor comes to the throne. If at the end of two years you are still of
the same mind, I shall offer no further opposition."
"I shall never change my intention."
"Perhaps not. I am told that the determination of a woman is
irrevocable, so a little delay does not much matter. Meanwhile, another
problem passes my comprehension. I have thought and thought about it,
and am convinced there is a misunderstanding somewhere, which possibly
will be cleared away too late. I am quite certain that Father Ambrose
did not meet Prince Roland in Frankfort."
"Do you, then, dispute the word of Father Ambrose?" asked the girl,
quickly checking the accent of indignation that arose in her voice, for
humility was to be her rôle ever after.
"Father Ambrose is at once both the gentlest and most truthful of men.
He has undoubtedly seen somebody rob a merchant in Frankfort. He has
undoubtedly been imprisoned among wine-casks; but that this thief and
this jailer was Roland is incredible to me who know the young man, and
physically impossible, for Prince Roland at that time was himself a
prisoner, as, indeed, he is to-day. Prince Roland cannot be liberated
from Ehrenfels without an order signed by Mayence, Treves, and myself. I
alone have not the power to encompass his freedom, and Mayence is
equally powerless although he is owner of the Castle. Some scoundrel is
walking the streets of Frankfort pretending to be Roland."
"In that case, my Lord, he would not deny his identity when accosted on
the bridge."
"A very clever point, my dear, but it does not overcome my difficulty.
There might be a dozen reasons why the rascal would not incriminate
himself to any stranger who thus took him by surprise. However, it is
useless to argue the question, for I persuade you as little as you
persuade me. The practical thing is to fathom the misunderstanding, and
remove it. Will you assist me in this?"
"Willingly, if I can, Guardian."
"Very well. I must first inform you that your imprisonment is likely to
be very short. You are to know that the harmony supposed to exist in
Stolzenfels is largely mythical: I left behind me the seeds of discord.
I proposed that the glum niece of Treves, whom you met at our historic
lunch, should be the future Empress. This nomination was seconded by
Mayence himself, and received with unconcealed joy by my brother of
Treves."
"Then for once the Court was unanimous? I think your choice an admirable
one."
"The Archbishop of Mayence does not agree with you, my dear."
"Then why did he second your nomination?"
"Because he is so much more clever than Treves, who a few minutes later
would have been the seconder."
"Why should his Lordship of Mayence think one thing and act another?"
"Why is he always doing it? No one can guess what Mayence really thinks,
if he is judged by what he says. Were Treves' niece to become Empress,
her uncle would speedily realize his power, and Mayence would lose his
leadership. Could Mayence to-day secretly promote you to the position of
Empress, he would gladly do so."
"But won't he at once look for some one else?"
"Certainly. That choice is now occupying his mind. His seconding of the
nomination was merely a ruse to gain time, but if he proposes any one
else he will find both Treves and myself against him. His only hope of
circumventing the ambition of Treves is that something may happen,
causing you to change your mind concerning Prince Roland."
"You forget, Guardian," protested the girl, "that his Lordship of
Mayence said he would not permit me to marry Prince Roland after the way
I had spoken and acted."
"He said that, my dear, under the influence of great resentment against
you, but Mayence never allows resentment or any other feeling to stand
in the way of his own interests. If you wrote him a contrite letter
regretting your defiance of him, and expressing your willingness to bow
to his wishes, I am very sure he would welcome the communication as a
happy solution of the quandary in which he finds himself."
"You wish me to do this, Guardian?" she asked wistfully.
"Not until you are satisfied that Prince Roland is innocent of the
charges you make against him."
"How can I receive such assurance?"
"Ah, now you come to the object of this apparently purposeless journey.
I have had much experience in the world you are so anxious to renounce,
and although I have seen the wicked prosper for a time, yet my faith has
never been shaken in an overruling Providence, and what happened last
night set me thinking so deeply that daylight stole in upon my
meditations."
"Oh, my poor Guardian, I knew you had not slept, and all because of a
worthless creature like myself, and a wicked creature, too, for I did
not see the hand of Providence so visible to you."
"Surely, my dear, a moment's thought would reveal it to you. Remember
how we came almost to the door of the prison, when a temporary reprieve
was handed to us by that coarse reprobate, the Pfalzgraf. Your suite of
rooms was not yet ready, and thus we found bestowed upon us another free
day; a day of untrammeled liberty, quite unlooked for. Now, much may be
done in a day. An Empire has been lost and won within a few hours. With
this gift came a revelation. That wine-blotched Pfalzgraf would have
shown no consideration for you: to him a prisoner is a prisoner, to be
cast anywhere, lock the door, and have done, but a wholesome fear had
been instilled into him by his overlord. The Archbishop of Mayence had
taken thought for your comfort, ordering that the best rooms in the
Castle should be placed at your disposal. Hence, after all that had
passed, his Lordship felt no malignancy against you, and I dare say
would have been glad to rescind the order for your imprisonment, were it
not that he would never admit defeat."
"Oh, Guardian, what an imagination is yours! I am sure his Lordship of
Mayence will never forgive me."
"His Lordship of Mayence, my dear, is in a dilemma from which no one
except yourself can extricate him."
"His own cleverness will extricate him."
"Perhaps. Still, I'm not troubling about him. My thoughts are much too
selfish for that. I wish you to lift me from _my_ uncertainty."
"You mean about Prince Roland? I shall do whatever you ask of me."
"I place no command, but I proffer a suggestion."
"It shall be a command, nevertheless."
"We have left your own prison far behind, and are approaching that of
Prince Roland. To the door of that detaining Castle I propose to lead
you. I am forbidden by my compact with the other Electors to see Prince
Roland or to hold any communication with him. The custodian of the
Castle, who knows me well, will not refuse any request I make, even if I
ask to see the young man himself. He will therefore not hesitate to
admit you when I require him to do so. To take away any taint of
surreptitiousness about my action, interfering, as one might say, with
another man's house, I shall this evening write to the Archbishop of
Mayence, tell him exactly what I have done, and why."
"Do you intend, then, that I should see Prince Roland and talk with
him?"
"Yes."
"My dear Guardian!" cried the girl, her face flushing red, "what on
earth can I say to him? How am I to excuse my intrusion?"
"A prisoner, I fancy, does not resent intrusion, especially if the
intruder is--" The old man smiled as he looked at the girl, whose blush
grew deeper and deeper; then, seeing her confusion, he added: "There are
many things to say. Introduce yourself as the ward of his Lordship of
Cologne; reveal that your guardian has confided to you that Prince
Roland is to be the future Emperor; ask for some assurance from him that
the property descending to you from your ancestors shall not be
molested; or perhaps, better still, with the same introduction, tell him
the story of Father Ambrose. Add that this has disquieted you: demand
the truth, hearken to what the youth says for himself, thank him, and
withdraw. It needs no long conversation, though I am prepared to hear
that he wished to lengthen your stay. I am certain that five minutes
face to face with him will completely overturn all Father Ambrose has
said to his disparagement, and a few simple words from him will probably
dispel the whole mystery. If someone is personating him in Frankfort it
is more than likely he knows who it is."
They traveled a generous furlong together in silence, the girl's head
bowed and her brow troubled. At last, as if with an effort, she cleared
doubt away, and raised her head.
"I will do it," she said decisively.
The Archbishop heaved a deep sigh of relief. He knew now he was out of
the wood.
"Is this Assmannshausen we are coming to?" she asked, as if to hint that
the subject on which they had talked so earnestly was finally done with.
"No; this is Lorch, and that is the Castle of Nollich standing above
it."
"I hope," said the girl, with a sigh of weariness, "that no English
Princess about to marry an Emperor lodged there, or no Englishman who
was to become an Emperor--"
The Archbishop interrupted the plaint with a hearty laugh, the first he
had enjoyed for several days.
"The English seem an interfering race," she went on. "I wish they would
attend to their own affairs."
"Nollich is uncontaminated," said the Archbishop, "though in olden days
a reckless knight on horseback rode up to secure his lady-love, and I
believe rode down again with her, and his route is still called the
Devil's Ladder."
"Did the marriage turn out so badly?"
"No; I believe they lived happily ever after; but the ascent was so
cliff-like that mountain sprites are supposed to have given their
assistance."
"How much farther is Assmannshausen?"
"Less than two leagues. We will stop there and refresh ourselves. Are
you tired?"
"Oh no; not in the least. I merely wish the ordeal was past."
"You are a brave girl, Hildegunde."
"I am anything but that, Guardian. Still, do not fear I shall flinch."
After partaking of the midday meal at Assmannshausen, the Countess
proposed that they should leave their horses in the stable, and walk the
short third of a league to Ehrenfels, and to this her guardian agreed.
He found more difficulty with the custodian than had been expected. The
man objected, trembling. Without a written order from his master he dare
not allow any one to visit the prisoner. He would be delighted to oblige
his Lordship of Cologne, but he was merely a poor wretch who had no
option in the matter.
"Very well," said Cologne. "I have just come from your master, who is
stopping with my brother Treves at Stolzenfels. If you persist I must
then request lodgings from you until such time as a speedy messenger can
bring your master hither. This journey may cause him great
inconvenience, and should such be the case, I fear you will fare ill
with him."
"That may be, my Lord, but I must do my duty."
"Are you sure you have already done it on all occasions?" asked the
Archbishop severely.
The man's face became ghastly in its pallor.
"I don't know what you mean, my Lord."
"Then I will quickly tell you what I mean. It is rumored that Prince
Roland has been seen on the streets of Frankfort."
"How--how could that be, my Lord?"
"That is exactly what I wish to know. I believe the Prince is not in
your custody."
"I assure you, my Lord," said the now thoroughly frightened man, "that
his Highness is in his room."
"Very well; then conduct this lady thither. Although she does not know
the Prince, a relative of hers who does asserts that he met his Highness
in Frankfort. I said this was impossible if you had done that duty you
prate so much about. The lady merely wishes to ask him for some
explanation of this affair, so make your choice. Shall she go up with
you now, or must I send for the other two Archbishops?"
There was but one comforting phrase in this remark, namely, that the
lady did not know the Prince. Still, it was a dreadful risk, yet the
custodian hesitated no longer. He took down a bunch of keys, and asked
the Countess to follow him. Ascending the stair, he unlocked the door,
and stood aside for the Countess to pass through.
Some one with wildly tousled hair sat sprawling in a chair; arms on the
table, and head sunk forward down upon them. A full tankard of wine
within his reach, and a flagon had been overset, sluicing the table with
its contents, which still fell drip, drip, drip, to the floor.
The young man raised his head, aroused by the harsh unlocking of the
door, and with the crash it made as his father flung it hard against the
stone wall for the purpose of giving him warning, but the youth was in
no condition to profit by this thoughtfulness, nor to understand the
signals his father made from behind the frightened girl. He clutched
wildly at the overturned flagon, and with an oath cried:
"Bring me more wine, you old--"
Staggering to his feet, he threw the flagon wide, then slipped on the
spilled wine and fell heavily to the floor, roaring defiance at the
world.
The panic-stricken girl shrank back, crying to the jailer:
"Let me out! Close the door quickly, and lock it!" an order obeyed with
alacrity.
When Hildegunde emerged to the court her guardian asked no question. The
horror in her face told all.
"I am sorry, my Lord," said the cringing custodian, "but his Highness is
drunk."
"Does this--does this happen often?"
"Alas! yes, my Lord."
"Poor lad, poor lad! The sins of the fathers shall be visited on the
children to the third and fourth generation. Hildegunde, forgive me. Let
us away and forget it all."
The next morning the Countess began her imprisonment in Pfalz.
XV
JOURNEYS END IN LOVERS' MEETING
Roland slept until the sun was about an hour high over the western
hills. He found the captain waiting patiently for him to awake, and then
that useful martinet instantly set his crew at tying up the bales which
had been torn open, placing them once more in the hold. He was about to
do the same with the weapons captured from Furstenberg, but Greusel
stepped forward, and asked him to put pikes, battle-axes, and the long
swords into the cabin.
Roland nodded his approval, saying:
"They may prove useful instruments in case of an attack on the barge.
Our own swords are just a trifle short for adding interest to an
assault."
When once more the hatches were down, and the deck clear, supper was
served. Shortly after sunset, Roland told the captain to cast off,
directing him to keep to the eastern shore, passing between what might
be called the marine Castle of Pfalz and the village of Caub, with the
strictest silence he could enjoin upon his crew. Pfalz stands upon a
rock in the Rhine, a short distance up the river from Caub, while above
that village on the hill behind are situated the strong, square towers
of Gutenfels.
"Don't you intend to pay a call upon Pfalzgrafenstein?" asked Ebearhard.
"It is notoriously the most pestilent robber's nest between Mayence and
Cologne."
"No," said Roland. "On this occasion Pfalz shall escape. You see,
Ebearhard, on our first trip down the Rhine it is not my intention to
fight if I can avoid conflict. The plan which proved successful with the
four castles we have visited is impossible so far as Pfalz is concerned.
If we attempted to enter this waterschloss by stealth, we would be
discovered by those levying contributions on the barge. There is no
cover to conceal us, so I shall give Pfalz the go-by, and also
Gutenfels, because the latter is not a robber castle, but is owned by
the Count Palatine, a true gentleman and no thief. The next object of
our attentions will be Schonburg, on the western side of the river, near
Oberwesel."
As the grotesque, hexagonal bulk of the Pfalz, with its numerous jutting
corners and turrets, and over all the pentagonal tower, appeared dimly
in the center of the Rhine, under the clear stars, the captain ordered
his men to lie flat on the deck, himself following their example. Roland
and his company were already seated in the cabin, and the great barge,
lying so low in the water as to be almost invisible with its black
paint, floated noiseless as a dream down the swift current.
Without the slightest warning came a shock, and every man on the lockers
was flung to the floor of the cabin, with cries of dismay, for too well
they recognized the preliminary to their disasters of the night before.
Roland sprang up on deck, and found the boat swinging round broadside to
the current, which had swept it so near to the Castle that at first it
seemed to have struck against one of the outlying rocks. The fantastic
form of the Pfalz hung over them, looking like some weird building seen
in a nightmare, its sharp, pointed pinnacles outlined against the
starlit sky.
The captain, muttering sonorous German oaths, ordered his men to the
sweeps, but Roland saw at once that they were too close to the ledge of
rock for any chance of escape. He hurried down into the cabin.