THE BLACK COUNT IS PERSUADED NOT TO HANG HIS EMPEROR.
The Emperor, when his dripping charger climbed the incline before Alken,
looked with concern toward the troop of horse drawn up facing the river,
wondering whether or no Heinrich himself was there to greet them. The
leader of this scant cavalry sat on his steed a horse-length in advance
of his men, and was rather startlingly red than black. His hair and
beard were fiery crimson in colour, while the face they framed was of a
similar hue, scarcely less violent, although it deadened somewhat as it
reached the nose, and painted that well developed and prominent organ a
rich deep purple, giving evidence, Rodolph thought, of the potency of
Heinrich's liquors. The man's eyes were shifty and suspicious, and, all
in all, his face was as forbidding as one would care to see, bringing to
life the conjecture which had more than once crossed the young man's
mind, that in thus unceremoniously changing guardians the Countess had
scarcely bettered herself. However, he still had hopes that this
crafty-looking horseman was not the uncle, from whom he expected
violence perhaps, but not treachery.
The Emperor advanced and saluted the red warrior, who remained
motionless upon his horse, bestowing an inquiring but none too friendly
glance upon the approaching stranger.
"I would have speech with Count Heinrich, of Thuron," said Rodolph.
"Then you must seek him in his castle," was the reply, which brought a
sigh of relief to the lips of the Emperor.
"Whom have I the honour of addressing?" he asked.
"I am Steinmetz, Captain of Castle Thuron. Who are you?"
"My name is Rodolph, a Lord of Frankfort, and I desire convoy to the
castle."
"That is as may be," answered the Captain, with lowering brow. "What is
your business with my Lord the Count, and who is the lady that
accompanies you?"
"My business I will relate to the Count himself. The lady is the
Countess Tekla, niece of Count Heinrich and sometime ward of Archbishop
Arnold von Isenberg of Treves. If you have further questions to ask, it
may be well to put them to your master, for my patience is at an end,
and I am unaccustomed to the cross-examination of my inferiors. There is
a chance that Count Heinrich may thank you for this delay, and a chance
that he may not; you know him better than I, so act as best pleases you
under that knowledge."
The Captain gave a whistle of astonishment when the name and quality of
the lady were mentioned, and instantly saluted with his sword the man
whom a moment before he had treated with scant courtesy. The truculence
disappeared from his manner, and he said, with some eagerness:
"I shall be pleased to act immediately as your convoy to the castle, my
Lord."
"Nothing could be more satisfactory," replied Rodolph.
The Captain gave the word to his men, who formed in line, some before
and some after the visitors, and thus the procession made way through
the village and up the zig-zag path that led to the castle, a rugged
slanting road rising higher and higher at each turn, and disclosing
broader and broader views of the charming valley of the Moselle. The
scene was peaceful in the extreme, and, but for the clatter of armed
men, one might have imagined that no such thing as conflict could exist
in all that region. On the hilltop, beyond the river, Rodolph could see
that Count Bertrich had come to himself, had captured the remaining
horse, and was transferring the accoutrements of his own animal to the
new mount.
While Rodolph was watching his late opponent with keen interest,
wondering whether the Count would betake himself to Cochem, or persist
in his quest and visit Thuron, Tekla spoke to him.
"My Lord," she said, "you have somewhat neglected me of late, and I am
still in ignorance of what happened when you so unceremoniously turned
me off the hilltop. I trust you are unhurt."
"Not only unhurt, but untouched, Countess, thanks, not to my own
prowess, but to the marvellous skill of the English archer, who
annihilated the foe like a necromancer with a touch of his wand."
"Is Count Bertrich slain then?" she asked, with a shudder.
"No. Yonder he stands gazing at us, seemingly in hesitation as to what
he shall do next, but his two followers are dead, and the pride of
Bertrich encountered a shattering fall before he consented to let us
pass him. I have proven myself a blundering guide, otherwise he had
never intercepted us; but defenders are ever at hand when your Ladyship
needs them, and I trust we are about to find the chief of them within
these walls."
"Now that we are at our journey's end, I am oppressed with fear. I am
more afraid than I was in grim Cochem itself, for I like not the look of
this Captain and his men."
"They might be more prepossessing, it is true, but we should not judge
hastily by externals. The outside of Castle Thuron seems forbidding
enough, but no doubt a warm welcome awaits you within. Count Heinrich
has to hold his possessions with a strong hand, and so cannot be too
nice in the selection of those who are to do his work. You will find
him, I trust, a true nobleman and an indulgent relative."
"I hope so," said the girl, with a sigh, which seemed to indicate that
she looked forward to the meeting with more apprehension than she had
yet shown.
The Captain sounded a bugle that hung at his belt, and the gates of the
castle were thrown open in response, allowing the cavalcade to enter a
wide stone-paved courtyard. There was none in authority to meet them,
which was not strange, as no news of their approach could possibly have
yet reached the stronghold. The gates were instantly shut behind them,
and the Captain, flinging himself from his horse, strode into the
castle, doubtless to acquaint his chief with the important tidings he
carried. Rodolph dismounted, assisted the Countess to dismount, and then
all stood there with the horsemen surrounding them, more in the attitude
of captives than of welcome guests.
The archer gazed about him with much nonchalance, at the defences of the
place, and asked questions concerning them from some of the servitors
and men-at-arms who stood silently by, regarding the newcomers with
looks of distrust, answering nothing. Far from being nonplussed by the
scant attention paid his queries, he strutted round in high good humour,
as if the castle were his own, and audibly made comments which were
sometimes far from complimentary.
"If this man, Heinrich the Black, has a head on his shoulders somewhat
more intelligent than those of his men-at-arms, he might defend the
place with reasonable success, providing he was amenable to advice
regarding certain additions I consider necessary, for if the attacking
party----"
"Do not cheapen your advice, archer, by tendering it unasked," said
Rodolph, somewhat sternly, "and avoid comment until you have made the
acquaintance of the Count."
"Indeed there is wisdom in that," replied the archer, unabashed, "and I
would that his Lordship showed greater anxiety to receive us suitably,
for then the sooner would come a taste of his hospitality, the which I
am already anxious to pass opinion on."
Further conversation was prevented by the return of the Captain, who
curtly informed Rodolph that Count Heinrich commanded the whole party to
be brought before him, adding with a malicious leer that he had not
found his Lordship so anxious for the meeting as the words spoken by the
river bank had led him to suppose.
"You will remain in your saddles until further orders," said the Captain
to his men, a behest that did little to reassure the Emperor.
The Countess spoke no word, although her pale face showed that this
reception was scarcely to her liking. They all followed the Captain, who
led them along a hall, up a broad stair, and through a doorway into a
large and lofty room, where half-a-dozen men sat at a table with
drinking flagons before them, while one strode angrily back and forward
across the floor; his place at the head of the table was empty thus
indicating that he was the Count, although Rodolph needed no such token
to aid recognition.
Count Heinrich was more than six feet high, and strongly built. His
massive head was covered with a shock of jet black hair; his beard and
fierce moustache were of the same sombre colour, while his face was so
swarthy that at first sight one doubted if the man had a drop of Saxon
blood in him. He seemed more like the king of some heathen African
domain, than a nobleman in a Christian land. His piercing eyes lit up
his dark face, and a glance from them reminded Rodolph of a flash of
lightning athwart a black cloud. He stopped abruptly in his march as
those summoned into his presence entered, and roared rather than spoke:
"Well, madame, what do you here in Thuron?"
The Countess had taken a step or two in advance of her comrades, but
paused dumbfounded at the thunder in his tone and the savagery of the
face turned upon her.
"My Lord--uncle," she faltered at last, "I am here to implore your
protection."
"Protection?" shouted Heinrich. "Is not the Lion of Treves able to
protect you? It is _his_ duty, not mine. Why does he send you journeying
with such a scurvy escort?"
"My Lord, if you will permit me to address you in private I will inform
you why----"
"You will inform me here. Have you, as I suspect, left Treves without
sanction of the Archbishop?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Of all reckless fools a woman--Are your horsemen still in saddle?" he
cried, abruptly, to Captain Steinmetz.
"They are, my Lord."
"Well, madame, we shall repair the mischief you have done as speedily as
horseflesh may. You shall have escort to do you honour, but must make
your peace with the Archbishop as best you can. Take her to Cochem, and
there present her to the Archbishop, or, in his absence, to the officer
in charge."
"Oh, uncle, uncle," cried the girl, throwing herself at his feet, "you
cannot commit such a crime. Remember, I am the daughter of your only
sister. The Archbishop commands me to marry the Count Bertrich----"
"And a most proper union. It is his right to marry you to whomsoever
pleases him. You cannot gainsay that. Am I to engage in war with Treves
merely because you do not fancy Count Bertrich? It is enough that one of
my line is a fool. I am none such."
"If you will not shelter me, let me, I beseech you, pass on to Frankfort
to beg protection from the Emperor. Although you have the right to
refuse hospitality you have no right to take me prisoner and send me
back to Cochem."
"That shows you to be doubly a fool. The Emperor has gone to the Holy
Land, where God protect him, and were he at Frankfort he would send you
back to Treves, for he must uphold the Feudal law. The Archbishop's will
elected him, and if his will is to be void regarding a fire-brand like
you, it would also be void regarding the Emperor's own elevation. As for
my right to prison you, I have what rights I take, which even the
Archbishop will hesitate to question."
"My Lord, touching the Emperor," began Rodolph, stepping forward, then
checking himself, hardly knowing how to continue.
"Yes? Touching the Emperor? Are you empowered to speak for him? Who are
you, sir, and what is your share in this business?"
Black Heinrich had calmed perceptibly as the colloquy between him and
his niece went on, but the interpolation of Rodolph at once roused him
to fury again, and caused him to turn on the young man with blazing
eyes.
"I am a namesake of the Emperor, Lord Rodolph of Frankfort, and I am
further his most intimate friend."
"Are you so? Then I am glad to hear it. You will thus make all the more
acceptable a sacrifice to Arnold von Isenberg, who likes interference as
little as do I, whether from Emperor or serf. Captain Steinmetz, get
hither your hangman, reeve a rope through a ring on the river front of
the castle, and hang me this fellow so that the Archbishop's emissaries
will see him dangling as they come up to inquire respecting this
enterprise."
"My Lord, I would like a word with you in private before you proceed to
this extremity."
"I transact my business publicly, that all the world may see."
"The more fool you," returned Rodolph, stoutly. "You have already
bandied the epithet, therefore I use it. The Archbishop, who is no such
ranter, but who acts while you sleep, has had secret spies here to note
your weakness. His army is doubtless now on its way to Thuron. If you
send back your niece he will think you to be a coward; he already holds
you to be a liar, and will believe nothing you say anent this affair,
though you hang your whole garrison outside the walls. While you stand
babbling there, gloriously frightening women and threatening defenceless
men, he, like a sane warrior, is surrounding you. What the Archbishop
thinks of your innocence in this matter is shown by the fact that Count
Bertrich was sent directly to Thuron, and met us almost at your gates.
Blood has already been shed, and two of the Archbishop's men lie dead
within sight of your towers. Judge, then, of your childish paltry scheme
of returning the Countess Tekla to Cochem. He knows you to be a knave,
and will think you poltroon as well, and is doubtless right in both
estimates."
Something almost resembling a ruddy colour came into the atramentous
face of Black Heinrich as he listened to this rating of himself in his
own hall. His jaws came together with a snap, and as the tirade went on,
his bearded lips parted and showed his teeth like a white line across
his face, giving him an expression that might well be called diabolical.
His eyes nearly closed, and his breath came and went with a hissing
sound. He stood rigid and motionless, while on the faces of all present
was mute amazement at this temerity on the part of one virtually a
prisoner. When Heinrich spoke, however, his former loudness was gone,
and his words came quiet and measured.
"You are not wanting in courage, therefore will I countermand the order
for your hanging, and cause your head to be struck off instead."
"Oh, uncle, uncle!" cried the horrified girl. "Do as you will with me,
but he is guiltless even of previous knowledge regarding my escape from
Treves. It is his misfortune, not his fault, that he is here. I implore
you----"
"Steinmetz, let two of your men conduct this fellow to the courtyard,
and there behead him."
The captain was about to move when a new voice from the corner of the
apartment broke in upon the discussion.
"May I ask your Blackness," said the archer, "to turn your mind from
the seeming peril of my Lord, to the much more certain jeopardy which
confronts yourself, and charge the heathen who obeys you to make no
motion, otherwise shall you instantly die. Without boasting, Henry
Schwart, I beg to acquaint you with the fact that not all your men nor
the surrounding of your strong castle can save your life if this string
but slip my finger. I have killed two better men than you to-day when
they were charging upon me at full speed, and well protected with
armour; judge then what chance you have, standing there a rank
temptation to an honest archer. My sure arrow cares not a jot whether it
pierces the heart of a Count Palatine, or the honest if stupid brain of
a serf. And now, my Lord Rodolph, the life of his Blackness rests upon
your lips. If you say 'Let fly' I kill him and whoever stands behind
him, for I will break bow if this shaft go not through at least three
unarmoured men."
"It is as the archer says, my Lord," said Rodolph, "and his expertness
with his weapon is something almost beyond belief, as your own men,
watching from your walls a while since, will doubtless testify. I beg
that you make equitable terms with us, for I assure your Lordship the
archer is more to be feared at this moment than a round dozen of
Archbishops. I ask you to pass your knightly word, and to swear by the
three Kings of Cologne and the Holy Coat of Treves, that you will do us
no hurt, but allow us to pass freely on to Frankfort."
The Black Count glared in speechless rage at the unwavering archer, and
made no reply, but one of the men seated behind him shifted position
gingerly, speaking as he did so.
"It is no shame to yield, my Lord," he said. "I was witness to the
bowman's skill and saw the two men unaccountably fall with less
difference in time between them than the drawing of a breath."
The Count spoke after a moment's silence.
"If I respect not my own word, the swearing on Kings of Cologne or Coat
of Treves will not make me keep it."
"I will take your word, my Lord, so that it includes us all, especially
the archer, and stands also for the good conduct of your men."
"My men will not lay finger on you with safe conduct from me. I give
you, then, my word that you pass on unscathed to Frankfort. Does that
suffice?"
"It does, my Lord. Archer, unbend your bow."
The archer, with a sigh, lowered his weapon, but apparently had no such
trust as Rodolph, for he still kept the arrow on the string. Captain
Steinmetz looked shrewdly at his master, as if inquiring "Does this
hold?" but he met only a lowering frown and a sharp command to betake
himself to the courtyard and disband his men.
A bugle at that instant sounded outside, and the captain presently
returned to announce that Count Bertrich was without, and demanded
instant audience in the name of the Archbishop of Treves.
"Demands, does he? Let him wait until I am ready to receive him,"
replied the swarthy Count. Then, turning to a servitor, he commanded him
to ask the attendance of his lady.
Heinrich continued his pacing of the room, which he had abandoned when
the Emperor and those with him had entered. Moodiness sat on his brow,
and he spoke to none; all within the apartment maintained silence.
Presently there entered, dressed in deep black, a thin, sallow lady of
dejected appearance, who probably had none too easy or pleasant a life
of it with her masterful husband.
Heinrich stood, and without greeting said:
"This is my niece, Tekla of Treves, now on her way to Frankfort. She
will rest here to-night, so I place her in your care."
When the ladies had departed the Count ordered that Conrad and the
archer should have refreshment, then turning to Rodolph, he said:
"As the visit of Count Bertrich may have connection with the escapade
in the development of which you have no doubt ably assisted, I request
you to remain here until the conference is ended, as your testimony
concerning it may be called for."
Rodolph bowed without speaking.
"Admit Count Bertrich," directed the master of Thuron, standing with his
great knuckles resting on the table, ready to receive his warlike
visitor.
Bertrich strode into the room quite evidently fuming because of the
waiting he had been compelled to undergo. He made no salutation, but
spoke in a loud voice, plunging directly into his subject. His face was
pale, but otherwise he showed no sign of the rough treatment he had
encountered. Looking neither to the right nor to the left, but straight
at the Black Count, he began:
"Heinrich of Thuron, I bear the commands of my master and yours, Arnold
von Isenberg, Lord Archbishop of Treves. In his name I charge you to
repair instantly to Treves, bearing with you my Lord's ward, the
Countess Tekla, whom you have treacherously encouraged and assisted in
setting at defiance the just will of his Lordship. You are also to bring
with you as prisoners those who aided her flight, and deliver them to
the garrison at Cochem."
The eyes of Count Heinrich gleamed ominously from under the murky brow.
"I have heard," he said, harshly. "Is there anything further I can do to
pleasure his Lordship?"
"You are to make public apology to him in his Palace at Treves,
delivering into his hands the keys of Castle Thuron, and, after penance
and submission have been duly performed and rendered, his Lordship may,
in his clemency, entrust you again with the keeping of the castle."
"Does the category end so lamely?"
"I await your answer to as much as I have already cited."
"The Countess Tekla is of my blood, but somewhat contaminated, I admit,
by the fact that her father was your predecessor in the Archbishop's
favour. She was Arnold's ward, betrothed to you, his menial. She was in
your hands at the capital city of the Archbishop, surrounded by spies
and environed by troops. If then the girl has the wit to elude you all,
baffle pursuit, and arrive unscathed in Thuron, she is even more my
relative than I had given her credit for, and now the chief loser in the
game comes yelping here to me like a whipped spaniel, crying 'Give her
up.' God's wounds, why should I? She will but trick you again and be
elsewhere to seek."
"I demand your plain answer, yes or no, to be given at your peril!"
"There is no peril in dealing with so stupid a band as that at Treves,
whose head a simple girl may cozen and whose chief warrior, mounted and
encased in iron an unarmoured foot-soldier can overthrow. By the three
Kings, you strut here in my hall with jingling spurs which you have no
right to wear. You know the rules of chivalry; give up your horse, your
armour and your sword to the archer who rightfully owns them, having won
them in fair field. When thus you have purged yourself of dishonesty, I
will lend you a horse to carry my answer back to Treves, which is as
follows: Tell the Archbishop that the maiden is in my castle of Thuron.
If he want her, let him come and take her."
The colour had returned in more than its usual volume to the pale face
of Count Bertrich as he listened to this contemptuous speech, but he
made no reply until he had withdrawn the gauntlet from his hand: then,
flinging it at the feet of the Black Count, he cried:
"There lies the gauge of my Lord Archbishop of Treves, and when Thuron
Castle is blazing, I shall beg of his Lordship to allow me to
superintend the hanging of the pirate who now inhabits it."
Heinrich threw back his head with a rasping bark that stood him in place
of a laugh.
"Indeed, my Lord, you have the true hangman's favour, and I marvel not
the girl fled from you. I am, as you say, somewhat of a pirate, but with
more honesty in me than passes current in Treves, so I cannot lift the
gauge without leave of its real owner. Steinmetz, bring here the archer
with his bow."
When the wonder-stricken archer appeared, grasping his weapon, his mouth
full, for he had been reluctantly haled from a groaning board, he looked
with some apprehension at the Black Count, expecting a recantation of
the promise wrung from him.
"Archer," cried Heinrich, "there lies a gauntlet which is yours of
right. I ask you for it."
"Indeed, my Lord," replied the archer, hastily gulping his food to make
utterance possible, "if I have aught to say concerning it, it is yours
with right good will."
"Then from where you stand, as I refused your formal proposal to judge
your marksmanship, pin it for me to the floor."
The archer, nothing loath, drew bow, and with incredible swiftness shot
one after another five shafts that pierced fingers and thumb of the
glove, the first arrow still quivering while the last struck into its
place.
For the only time that day the dark face of the Count Palatine lit up,
in radiant admiration of the stout foreigner who stood with a smirk of
self-satisfaction while he nodded familiarly to Captain Steinmetz as who
would say:
"You see what would have happened if----"
Count Bertrich regarded him with wonder in his eyes, then pulling a
purse from under his breast-plate, he said:
"Archer, I am in your debt for horse, armour and arms, and think it
little shame to confess defeat to one so skilful. If you will accept
this gold in payment, and leave me steed and accoutrements, I shall hold
myself still your debtor. My excuse for tardy payment is that you did
not wait to claim your own."
"My Lord," said the archer, "I am always willing to compound in gold
for any service I can render, and only hope to have another opportunity
of practising against your closed helmet with arrows which I shall
shortly make a trifle thinner in the shank than those I used to-day. I
have to apologise to your Lordship that my shafts were rather too thick
at the point to give complete satisfaction either to you or to me."
All sign of levity vanished from Count Bertrich's face as he turned
again to the Black Count.
"Although the exhibition we have been favoured with is interesting," he
said, "I do not understand what bearing it has upon the point we were
discussing. Do you accept challenge, or shall I intercede with my Lord
the Archbishop to grant you the terms formerly recited by me?"
"Tell the Archbishop that the glove has been pinned to my floor by five
shafts, piercing the points of its five members; there it will remain
until his Lordship contritely enters this hall on his knees and pulls
them out with his teeth. When he does this and delivers up Count
Bertrich to my hangman he shall have peace."
Count Bertrich, again without salutation, turned his back upon the
company, and left the apartment while the archer gazed with admiration
on Black Heinrich, whose language had no mincing diplomacy about it, but
stood stoutly for a quarrel.