THE ENVOY'S DISASTROUS RETURN.
The sun rose and set, and rose and set again, before news came to Castle
Thuron. There was no sign of an enemy; the Moselle valley, as seen from
the round towers, seemed a very picture of peace. During these two days
the air was still, the flag drooped, unfluttering, from its staff, and
the sun shone warmly in the serene heavens. Yet there was something
ominous in the silence, and each person in the castle felt, more or
less, the tension of the time. Black Heinrich scanned the distance from
the battlements with growing impatience, for, like all men of action, he
chafed at the delay and was eager for the fight to come on, even should
it prove disastrous to him. Anything seemed better than this newsless
waiting. The huge gates were never opened; in fact, it was now
impossible to open them, for the outer courtyard was partly filled with
sacks of grain and butts of wine, which were piled in a great heap
against the two leaves of the gate, and any one desiring to depart from
the castle had to climb down from the platform over the gates by a
ladder resting there, which could be pulled up at any moment's notice.
The two days were a most enjoyable interval for Rodolph, who spent much
of his time, in ever increasing delight, with the Countess Tekla. Yet
there was an alloy in his happiness. He felt that he was not wise in
lingering in Thuron, which at any moment might prove a trap from which
escape was impossible, either through the Count learning who he actually
was, and thereupon imprisoning him to make the most of his detention, or
through the sudden beleaguering of the castle by forces from Treves.
His confidence that Conrad would reach his friend in the house by the
city wall quieted his conscience, which with some persistence was
telling him that he neglected duty and high affairs of state, all for
the sake of spending the golden hours with a fascinating girl of
nineteen.
But these qualms left him when in her presence, and as he spent much of
his time with her, there was little chance for his conscience to work a
reformation. He consoled himself with the reflection that a man can be
young but once, and there was probably a long life before him which he
could energetically devote to the service of his country. He knew that
Baron von Brunfels would carry out faithfully his instructions in
Frankfort, and if the Emperor's presence became necessary there, he
would bring on a force that neither the Archbishop nor Black Heinrich
could cope with, did either attempt to detain him against his will. He
had unlimited faith in Brunfels' judgment, and thus he lulled
disquieting thought. Nevertheless he knew that his place was at
Frankfort and not in Thuron, where, if the turbulent Archbishop moved an
armed man without his sovereign's consent, that sovereign could emerge
from the capital at the head of the German army and bid the haughty
prelate back to Treves; yet prudence told him such a course might plunge
the country into civil war, for he knew not the exact military strength
of the Archbishop, and was well aware that his own army should be
considerably augmented before it undertook so hazardous a commission,
for nothing short of overwhelming force might overawe the fighting Lord
of Treves. In truth it was to see for himself what manner of man the
Archbishop was, and to form some estimate of the forces at his back,
that the secret journey to Treves had been taken, now so strangely
deflected from its original purpose. Both the Emperor and von Brunfels
believed that the present strength of the army at Frankfort was not
sufficient to cope with the battalions of Treves, especially if the
Archbishops of Cologne and Mayence made common cause with their brother
in the West--an eventuality not at all improbable. The first step then,
should be the return of the Emperor to his capital, to be followed by a
quiet increase of the imperial army until it reached such strength that
no combination could prevail against it. Rodolph knew his duty, yet
silken fetters held him from action. Had he been certain of the
sentiments of Tekla regarding himself he would have spoken to her,
without revealing his identity, and then might perhaps have made
arrangement with her uncle by which he could proceed to Frankfort, but
although the events of a lifetime had been compressed within the last
week, yet he could not conceal from himself the fact that the Countess
had known him for three or four days only, and he felt that to speak to
her at the present moment would be premature. Of course it was quite
within his right to assume his place at the head of the state once more,
and demand the lady, in which case neither her guardian nor the Count
would dare refuse, nor would one of them be the least likely to refuse,
for Black Heinrich was not the man to underestimate the qualification of
relationship with an Empress. But the Emperor was in no mind to follow
the example of Count Bertrich, and accept an unwilling wife.
He set before himself the enticing task of winning the lady as a
nameless lord, letting her imagine that he was perhaps not her equal in
station or fortune, and then, when consent had been willingly gained, to
demand her from his throne, allowing himself to dwell with pleasure on
her amazement at learning that her Emperor and her lover were one and
the same person.
But there was savage news in store for him, and for all within Castle
Thuron; news that made his rosy dreams dissolve as the light river mists
dissolve before the fierce midsummer sun. On the evening of the third
day after Conrad's departure, an unkempt, tattered figure staggered from
the forest and came tottering towards the gate of the castle. The
archer, on duty above the gate, drew string to ear and ordered the
fugitive to halt and explain himself. The forlorn man raised his hands
above his head, gave a despairing upward look, took two faltering steps
forward and fell prone on his face, as the bowman relaxing his weapon,
and peering eagerly forward, cried aloud:
"My God, it is Conrad!"
Then instantly forgetting his duty as guardian of the gate, he dropped
bow and sprang down the ladder, running to his fallen comrade. The news
spread through the castle with marvellous rapidity, and the Black Count
and Rodolph were on the battlements above the gate before the archer and
some of the garrison had hoisted the insensible man up the ladder.
"Take him to the great hall; he is wounded and seems famished as well.
Perhaps a cup of wine will revive him; meanwhile keep strict watch on
the gate; those who have pursued him cannot be far distant. Draw up the
ladder and man the battlements, Steinmetz."
The Captain at once gave the necessary commands, while those who had
rescued Conrad carried him to the great hall and laid him on a bench.
His clothes were in rags, and his face gaunt from fatigue or want. As
Heinrich had suggested, a cup of wine held to his lips revived him, and,
opening his eyes, he glanced at Rodolph and gasped:
"We are completely surrounded, my Lord."
"Impossible!" cried Rodolph. "The Archbishop could never have moved his
troops so quickly."
The Black Count said nothing, but scowled down on the wounded man, whose
garments the leech was removing in order to apply ointment to wounds
evidently caused by shafts from the crossbow. John Surrey looked on
these wounds with a lofty contempt, muttering:
"If I had drawn string at him there would be fewer hurts, but he would
not be here to tell what happened."
Conrad drank a full flagon of wine, which revived him sufficiently to
enable him to tell his adventures. He had directed his horse towards the
Roman road between Frankfort and Treves, but on approaching it saw
troops. Turning back he proceeded further west, but came again upon
armed men. In neither case was he himself seen. Retracing his way, he
tried to pass to the west, nearer to the river, but there also he found
an encampment. Surmising now that the wide space between the Roman road
and the Moselle was in the Archbishop's hands, and that there was no
chance of penetrating towards Treves in that direction, he resolved to
make for Frankfort itself, get to the south of the Roman road, and reach
Treves round about, through the great forest. To his amazement here also
he saw portions of the army, and it began to dawn upon him that the
castle was environed, at least on the south. He now determined to make
no more attempts to break the circle, but return to Thuron and report
the alarming situation he had discovered. In journeying through the
forest towards the castle he came unexpectedly upon a camp, and there,
for the first time, was seen by the enemy. He tried flight, but a
crossbow bolt brought down his horse and resulted in his capture. It
never occurred to those who held him prisoner, that he had come from
Thuron; in fact they readily believed he was, what his passport
proclaimed him, a merchant from Frankfort who was trying to reach
Treves. They assured him that such a journey was impossible at the
present moment, but said he could get through unmolested when the troops
had drawn closer round Thuron. They kept him merely a nominal prisoner,
paid little attention to him, and talked freely before him, having no
suspicion that he belonged to the castle. Nothing was said of the flight
of the Countess Tekla, and he surmised from this that her sudden
departure was unknown. It was believed that the investment of Thuron had
been projected for a long time, and that the Archbishop had struck thus
suddenly to take the Black Count unaware. From the fact that the troops
had been sent along the Roman road in detachments, Conrad inferred that
they were there when Count Bertrich had flung his glove on the floor of
Thuron. In like manner part of an army had been sent down the river to
Cochem, and from that place had pushed round the castle on the north
side of the stream until they saw their comrades on the other shore,
while between the two camps a chain had been stretched and all traffic
up and down the river stopped. But the most startling part of Conrad's
budget was this. The Archbishop of Cologne had come through the Eifel
region to Treves and had joined hands with his colleague, Arnold von
Isenberg. Troops were then marching up the Rhine from Cologne, and the
two Electors had made common cause regarding the reduction of Thuron.
The army of Treves had surrounded the castle, and would draw closer the
moment the army of Cologne arrived. It was supposed that the speedy
environment of the place was to prevent the Black Count and his company
from escaping to the Rhine or to Frankfort. Conrad learned all this on
the evening of the first day, and, watching his opportunity, made his
escape, but was seen by the guards, whose bolts came near to making an
end of him. For two nights and two days he wandered without food in the
forest, not knowing his whereabouts, and following streams which he
expected would lead him to the Moselle, but was often forced to abandon
them because of the hostile parties encamped near their waters, and thus
at last he had reached Thuron.
The Emperor listened to this recital, appalled at the position in which
he found himself. With the two Archbishops besieging the castle, there
would be small chance of his reaching Frankfort, and as the ultimate
reduction of the castle was now certain, he would find himself the
prisoner of his two turbulent and powerful subjects, Treves and Cologne,
confronted with the problem of whether he preferred being hanged as an
accomplice of the dark marauder who stood by his side, or revealing his
identity and taking what chance might offer when the knowledge was thus
brought to the Archbishops. Meanwhile his friend, Baron von Brunfels,
would not have the slightest inkling of his whereabouts, and if the
disappearance of the Countess was thus kept secret, as seemed to be the
intention of Arnold and Count Bertrich, Brunfels would not be able to
hazard even a guess. However, there was this consolation, that at no
time could he have escaped from Thuron. He was in effect trapped the
moment he set foot within its gates. Had he, with the Countess, set out
the following morning for Frankfort they would evidently have been
intercepted by the Archbishop's troops, and had he alone attempted to
reach his capital the same fate would have been in store for him. His
only regret now was that von Brunfels must remain in ignorance of his
position, but, as he had done his best to remedy that, he could only
blame fate for its unkindness to him.
The Black Count listened in sombre taciturnity to Conrad's record and
spoke no word when it was finished, but stood there in deep thought, his
eyes on the floor. Rodolph was the first to break the ensuing silence.
"You see, my Lord Count, the case stands as I expected. It was Arnold's
intention to have besieged you, and he has craftily entered into
negotiations with Cologne, doubtless fearing to attack you alone. This
scheme has been some time in concocting, and the flight of the Countess,
so far from bringing on the contest, has merely given you bare time for
preparation."
Heinrich gave utterance to an exclamation which can be designated only
by the inelegant term, grunt. It was his favourite method of expression
when perturbed. He did not raise his eyes from the floor, nor did he
reply.
"The fact that two Archbishops instead of one do you the honour to
besiege you should really not have much bearing on the result. I doubt
if they can carry the castle by storm, so their numbers are of little
avail to them. They can but starve you, and that one Archbishop could
have done as well as two. I suppose you have at least a year's provision
now in the vaults?"
"Two years," answered the Black Count, gruffly. "I shall turn out of the
castle all but fighting men. Not an extra mouth shall remain within the
walls."
"You surely do not intend to turn the Countess Tekla and your own
Countess from Thuron?" cried Rodolph in alarm.
Heinrich looked sullenly at him for some moments, and then said:
"No. Neither do I care to be questioned, and, least of all, interfered
with. You see how much your precious scheme for informing Baron von
Brunfels is worth, therefore be not so forward with advice or comment."
"I beg to call your Lordship's attention to the fact," said Rodolph,
with cool firmness, "that my precious scheme has informed you of the
odds against you. You may take the knowledge with the petulance of a
woman or the courage of a man, as best befits you. A gloomy brow never
yet encouraged beleaguered garrison. If you hold off this pair of
prelates with their armies for a year or more, then will your name be
renowned in song and story wherever brave deeds are valued, and the two
Archbishops will become the laughing stock of Christendom. By my good
sword, the carvers of the Black Forest shall make wooden figures of them
butting their twin heads against Thuron, and the children of the world
from now till doomsday will pull a string to see them jump. 'As foolish
and as futile as the two Archbishops' will pass into a proverb, or
perhaps it will be 'As brave as Heinrich of Thuron.' You have indeed an
opportunity which falls to but few, if you meet it with unwrinkled
brow."
The Count's countenance had perceptibly cleared while this recital was
going on, but he made no direct reply, merely telling the attendants to
convey Conrad to a room and see that he was well cared for. Then he
asked that Captain Steinmetz be brought before him, and when that ruddy,
uncomely officer entered, he said:
"Have you disposed your men along the walls?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Are any of the Archbishop's troops yet in sight?"
"No, my Lord."
"Send a trusty man to Alken, and tell the dwellers therein that we are
to be besieged by the Archbishops of Treves and Cologne. Ask them to
spread the news along either bank of the river with these instructions,
that all are to make the best terms with the Archbishops they can; to
sell their provisions and wine for the most money obtainable, preferring
the gold to their Lordships' blessings, if they take my advice. Tell
them I shall look out for myself, but that I cannot offer protection to
any outside the castle walls; therefore, I shall in future, if
victorious, not hold it against any man that he has saved his skin, or
his grain, or his wine, by denouncing me. Make all arrangement for the
women folk and very old men who are now in the castle. Pay for a year's
keep of each of them, and say that if more money is required I shall see
they get it. Marshal the non-combatants over the wall and down the
ladders as quickly as may be, and if any have friends in the village
with whom they prefer to lodge, arrange it to their satisfaction."
"All the women, my Lord?" cried Steinmetz, in astonishment.
"All the women in the castle, with the exception of my wife and my
niece, and all the old men incapable of bearing arms."
Steinmetz hesitated, yet seemed incapable of protest.
"Well!" roared the Black Count.
"There will be grumbling among the men, my Lord."
Heinrich brought his huge fist down on the table with a resounding
blow.
"Bring me the head of the first man who grumbles. Go and execute your
orders, send the women away at once, and they will the sooner make terms
with their innkeepers."
Steinmetz departed, and the Black Count strode up and down the room,
muttering to himself and scowling like a demon. Rodolph saw he was not
in a humour to be remonstrated with, and so said nothing; indeed he
understood the military necessity of the apparently harsh measures the
Count proposed in deporting from the castle all those who were not
necessary to its defence, yet who would likely come to no ill through
leaving the fortress. For a long time there was silence in the room,
broken only by the Count's measured stride on the oaken floor, in the
centre of which Count Bertrich's glove lay pinned with arrows. Rodolph
himself was in no pleasant temper, and he looked ahead with some dismay
toward imprisonment in a castle which was commanded by so rude and
disagreeable a person as the swarthy Count. The archer stood guard at
the door, having been set there by the Count's command when Steinmetz's
men took their places on the walls. Rodolph wished that he might go to
the entrance and talk with the good-natured bowman as an antidote to the
gruffness of the Count, whom he found becoming more and more unbearable.
There had been moments when he thought the Count might be won over by
judicious flattery and soothing compliments, but as he learned more of
his temperament he saw that all this had but a transient effect upon
him; that, indeed, the Count resented any superior readiness shown by
others in conversation; and, in addition, had a nature so suspicious
that after having had time to think on what had been said, he became
more intractable than ever, evidently coming to the conclusion that the
wheedling phrases used to him had been spoken for the purpose of
mollifying him and attaining certain ends, all of which he resented.
Presently Rodolph was startled from his reverie by the entrance of the
Countess Tekla, accompanied by Hilda, who was weeping. A rich colour
mantled the cheeks of the Countess, and it needed no second glance to
see that she was in a state of angry indignation. Rodolph, remembering
that she expected to civilise her uncle, began to have doubts of her
success. Heinrich stopped in his walk when she came in, and glared
blackly at her but without speaking.
"Oh, uncle, uncle!" cried Tekla, her voice showing she was nearer tears
than the haughty expression of her face indicated, "you surely cannot
intend that Hilda and I are to be separated, and that she, a stranger to
all here and in Alken, is to be taken to the village?"
"I will have no interference with my orders, Tekla--not from any one."
"But one person more or less can make no difference in the result of the
siege. If you think it will, give Hilda and me a single share of food
between us, but do not send her away."
The Black Count with almost inarticulate rage at this crossing of his
will, beat the table with his fist repeatedly, but seemed unable to
speak. He stuttered, with white foam flecking his lips and his black
beard. Rodolph edged nearer the Countess, and in a whisper begged her to
go away; that unexpected tidings seemed to have for the moment overcome
the Count's self-control.
"But they are waiting outside to take Hilda with them. They will seize
her unless the order is countermanded," cried the Countess.
"It is war, you fool!" at last roared the Count. "If I have another word
from you, huzzy! I shall send you also with your Treves trollop; a fine
to-do about a menial like her! And from you, who are the cause of all
our trouble."
"You know that is a lie," said Rodolph, quietly.
The Count turned on the young man with an expression like that of a
ravenous wolf; his jaw dropped, showing his white teeth against the jet
black of his beard. He seemed about to spring at Rodolph's throat, but
his wild eye, wandering to the door, saw the dreaded archer on the
alert, watching with absorbed interest the loud-talking group in the
centre of the room. His weapon seemed itself on the alert, and there was
enough of sanity somewhere in the Count's brain to bid him pause in his
projected onslaught. But the fact that he had to check himself added
fuel to his anger.
"Get you out of this!" he shrieked; "all of you. I am master of this
castle, and none breathes herein but by my permission, man or woman.
Whoever questions my authority by word or look, dies. Now, out with
you!"
Before any could move Steinmetz strode into the hall, holding by the
hair a human head lopped off at the neck, raggedly, the red drops
falling on the floor as he walked.
"There, my Lord," he said, holding up the ghastly trophy at arm's
length, while he cast a malignant leer at Rodolph, who involuntarily
shrank from the hideous object. Even the Black Count himself seemed
taken aback by the sudden apparition that confronted him.
"What ... what is that?" he stammered.
"The head of the first man who grumbled at your command about the women,
my Lord. I obeyed your orders and struck off his head."
Rodolph, pale as the dead face, stepped hurriedly between it and the
Countess, but not in time to prevent her getting sight of it. She raised
a terrified scream that rang to the rafters and covered her eyes with
her hands, tottering backwards, while Hilda implored her to withdraw,
saying she would go anywhere the Count ordered, and begged her mistress
not to cross him. Rodolph sprang quickly to the side of the Countess and
supported her. The scream once more aroused the tigerous anger of her
uncle. His eyes shot fire as he shouted:
"You did right, Steinmetz, and I am glad there is one man in the castle
who obeys the master of it unquestioning. It is war!" and as with
increased violence the Black Count roared these words, he smote the
grinning head with his gigantic paw and sent it spinning along the floor
like a round projectile from a catapult.
"It is not war, it is murder!" wailed the Countess. "There is a curse on
this doomed roof, and it shall fall in deserved ruin."
"Hush, hush," whispered Rodolph in her ear. "Bend to the storm; nothing
can be done with him now."
"I am going with Hilda; I am going with Hilda. I care not where, so long
as it is away from Thuron."
"No, no. Hilda will be safe enough, while you are not, outside those
walls. Let me conduct you to your apartments, and I will be surety that
you shall see Hilda shortly. For her sake as well as your own, bend to
the storm. Don't you see you are dealing with a madman?"
Count Heinrich stood watching them, laughing in short snarling harsh
snatches that did indeed resemble the ejaculations of a lunatic, but he
made no attempt to interfere with them. Hilda, thoroughly hysterical
through fear, leaving her mistress in the care of Rodolph, had flung
herself at the feet of the Count, beseeching him to deal with her as he
pleased, saying she would go anywhere he ordered her to go, and in the
same breath imploring him not to be harsh with her mistress.
"Take her away, Steinmetz," commanded Heinrich, spurning her with his
foot. "Send her down to the village."
The Captain, grasping her wrist, jerked her rudely to her feet, pushed
past Rodolph and the Countess, dragging the girl out with him. The
Countess seemed again about to protest, pausing in her progress, but the
young man urged her towards the door, still counselling silence.
"Shall I pin him to the wall?" whispered the archer, who had been
watching the scene with wide open eyes, his fingers twitching for the
string, on tension for any sign from his master that might be
constructed into permission to launch a shaft. "It seems high time."
"No," said Rodolph, sternly. "Keep true guard where you stand. See
nothing, and say nothing."
Man and woman disappeared, leaving the archer murmuring that he wished
his master had some courage. The Black Count now alone, except for the
silent archer at the door, resumed his walk up and down, first savagely
kicking the decapitated head from his path.