A MAN AND A WOMAN MEET BY TORCHLIGHT.
Heinrich and Rodolph left the grand hall with the archer following at
their heels, and ascended to the battlements. The sun had set, and long
parallel belts of crimson clouds barred the western sky with glory. The
wide valley of the Moselle was filled with a lovely opalescent light,
and the river, winding through it, shone like burnished silver. Not a
breath of wind stirred the listless flag, and here and there in the
encampment slender columns of smoke rose perpendicularly in the air,
spreading out like palm trees at the top. White tents had risen as if
they had been a sudden crop of mushrooms, and the voices of men came up
from among them through the still air. From the village was heard the
beat of horses' hoofs, and mounted troopers galloped here and there up
and down the darkening valley. On the heights across the Thaurand chasm
to the north of the castle, a huge tent was being erected, which
Heinrich surmised to be the headquarters of the Archbishops. They had
chosen the highest point of land in the neighbourhood with the exception
of the spot on which Thuron itself stood; a good coign of vantage,
overlooking the Moselle valley in part, and the village of Alken and
some of the lower tents, while behind it stretched the level open plain.
"By the gods of our forefathers!" cried the Black Count, drawing down
his brow, "I will venture a stone or two at that tent from the north
tower catapult before it grows darker."
"Do nothing of the sort," advised Rodolph. "In the first place, it may
be well to let the Archbishops begin the fray in whatever set form they
choose. Should the affair come up for arbitrament, that point will be in
your favour. You were attacked, and you defended yourself. Then I would
waste no stones on an empty tent, for if you strike it, they will but
move further afield. I should try the range when their august Lordships
are there to bear witness to the accuracy of your aim."
"Oh, very well," said the Count, moodily.
"Nay," continued the Emperor, in kindly tone, placing his hand in
friendly manner on the other's shoulder, "I meant what I said merely as
a suggestion. Act as pleases you, untrammeled. I seek but to help, and
not to hinder you. The utmost I ask is that, if I lodge protest, my
protest shall be at least considered. On you rests the defence of the
castle, and in that you must be unhampered."
The Count turned quickly and held out his hand, which the Emperor
grasped. "Your suggestion was right, and mine was wrong. I want you to
stand my friend in this pinch. I have few that wish me well, though
perhaps I have as many as I deserve. But I never met a man like you, and
I say truly that I would rather meet the two Archbishops with you by my
side than have the two with me, and you against me."
"No fighter can ask a higher compliment than that, my Lord Count. We
stand or fall together, let the fate of the castle be what it may."
As darkness filled the valley, slowly climbing the hills, whose tops
were the last to part with the waning light, numerous camp fires shone
in spots of crimson along the river bank. The sound of horses plashing
in the water, an occasional snatch of song, with now and then a distant
bugle call, echoing against the opposite hills, interfered with the
accustomed stillness of the valley.
Rodolph chose for himself and the archer two rooms at the top of the
southern tower, one above the other, John Surrey occupying the lower.
The narrow stone stair which gave access to both rooms ended at the
circular flat roof of the tower, a platform protected by a machicolated
parapet. The flagstaff of the castle rose from the centre of this
platform, and over the parapet one had a broad view, which included
hilltop and high level plain, for the summit of the south tower was the
highest spot in all the Moselle district. From this lofty perch the weak
point of the castle was easily recognised. If Thuron was ever to be
carried by assault the gate front would probably be the portion to give
way.
The builder of the castle had recognised this, and had constructed a
gate ridiculously small when contrasted with the great bulk of the
castle itself. The entrance was barely wide enough to allow a cart or
two horsemen abreast to pass in. The flattened Norman arch above it
supported masonry pierced for the crossbow bolts that might be launched
in its defence, and the flat parapet-protected platform over the gate
might be covered with warriors, while a huge catapult lay there ready to
hurl round stones on whoever attacked the portal. Even if the two stout
oaken leaves of the gate, iron bolted, and barred within by heavy
timbers, were broken down, the gateway might be held by two expert
swordsmen against an outside host. So when the assault was made the
souls of many of the besiegers would pass through the gates of Paradise
before the bodies of their comrades won their way through the gates of
Thuron. Nevertheless, the entrance was the weak point of the castle, for
in front of it lay comparatively level ground, while everywhere else the
slopes fell steeply from the walls, and the man who attacks up a hill is
ever at a disadvantage when he meets the defender who is already on the
top. The gate was at the south-western corner of the castle, facing the
south. The south tower stood on the eastern face of the fortress twenty
yards or less north of the south-eastern corner of the stronghold.
Rodolph came to the conclusion that when the gate was attacked, John
Surrey, stationed on the lofty platform of the south tower, with a
bundle of arrows at his side, would give a good account of himself, and
make some of the besiegers wish they had been elsewhere.
The Emperor, leaving Surrey in his lofty eyrie, went down the stone
steps, and endeavoured to send a message to the Countess that he wished
to have a word with her. The wholesale deportation of the servants made
the carrying of intelligence about the castle difficult, and he, on
personal investigation, found the door to the women's apartments barred.
Entering the inner courtyard, which was in darkness, for the moon which
had been at the full a week before was now on the wane and had not yet
risen, he groped his way until he estimated that the balcony was above
him, and there softly cried his lady's name, but without receiving any
response. No light shone in any of the windows, and a vague alarm filled
his breast, not knowing what the Countess might have done in her
despair. That she could have left the castle was hardly possible, for
the guard was now most vigilant, yet it might be that she had slipped
away when the others were taken to Alken, although, as Rodolph had
conducted her from the grand saal to the door of the women's apartments,
he had imagined that the women and old men were already gone, the last
to depart being Hilda herself, who had been taken to the outer courtyard
by Captain Steinmetz after the stormy interview in the great hall. The
Emperor left the courtyard and returned with a lighted torch, which he
placed in a holder set against the wall on the side opposite to the
windows, and this with its sputtering resinous flame illuminated the
neglected garden, on which Tekla's horticultural efforts had not yet
made visible impression. The light had the effect Rodolph desired. The
curtains at the back of the balcony parted, and the Countess, wrapped in
a long white robe, looking, Rodolph thought, like an angel, came to the
edge of the stone coping. The rays of the torch showed her eyes still
wet with tears, but their swimming brightness seemed more beautiful than
ever. The young Emperor caught his breath with delight on seeing the
fair vision before and above him, standing out in pure dazzling white
against the grim grey walls of the castle. He tried to speak, but could
not trust his voice.
"Is it you, my Lord Rodolph?" asked the Countess, in her low, rich
voice, peering into the semidarkness of the garden.
"Yes, Lady Tekla," said the young man, at last finding utterance. "I
could not go to rest without having a word with you. Your door was
barred and I could get no one to hear me, so I called fire to the aid of
my impatience, and set up a torch before your windows."
"We are self-made prisoners. I myself barred the door and paid no heed
to the knocking, for I thought it was my uncle returned again. He came
once and demanded admittance, which I refused. Then to our amazement he
went quietly away, when we fully expected he would batter down the door.
My aunt is prostrate with fear of him, and I have but now left her
bedside, where she has at last fallen into an exhausted sleep. Oh! why,"
cried the Countess, raising her arm as if in appeal to a just heaven,
"are such uncivilised wretches as the master of Thuron allowed to live
and contaminate this fair earth?"
"Well," said Rodolph, with a smile, happily unseen by the girl, who was
intensely in earnest, "we must admit that the Archbishops are doing
their best to eliminate him. I have often thought that it is only our
wonderful self-conceit that leads us to suppose we are actually
enlightened beings, and I fear that perhaps future ages may look back on
the thirteenth century, and deny to it the proud pre-eminence in
civilisation it now so confidently claims. But I have had some
conference with your uncle since I last saw you, and I think you will
have nothing now to fear from him. There will be no more scenes such as
that of this afternoon. He has promised me as much."
"Promised!" cried the girl, indignantly; "I put little faith in his
promises."
"There. I think, you do him an injustice. I make no attempt to defend
his conduct, but he had most disquieting news brought by Conrad,
and----"
"Has Conrad then returned?"
"Yes; a fugitive and sorely wounded. He brought news that the two
Archbishops, Treves and Cologne, are leagued against Heinrich of Thuron.
This was sufficient to disturb a much less despotic and evil-tempered
man than your uncle. He knew that the lines were rapidly closing in upon
him, and his ordering of the non-combatants out of the castle, when they
might go with no risk to themselves and live safely as humble villagers,
was a measure that all custodians of a stronghold threatened with
besiegement would have taken, had they been wise. There is no fault to
be found with the act as it stands, although his method of carrying it
out may lend itself to amendment. And the order was accomplished not a
moment too soon, for the fugitives were scarcely in the village before
the troops of the Archbishop had taken the place; besides this, Heinrich
very nobly counselled none to make resistance but to disclaim all
sympathy with the master of Thuron."
"Are the Archbishop's troops now in Alken?"
"In Alken? They are all around us. Not in Alken alone but on the heights
to the north, and on the plains to the south. We are completely
environed, and, from the round tower above us, a thousand watch fires
may be counted in every direction."
"What of Hilda, then, thrust thus among enemies?"
"Hilda is at this moment much safer than you are, my Lady. The Black
Count would have sent and brought her back but that he gave the order
too late."
"If she is free from harm, I have no complaint to make. You must not
think that I protested against her removal through selfishness, or
because I was in any way thinking of my own comfort. She has become to
me friend as well as servant, and if privations are to be borne within
this castle I have no wish to elude my share."
"Hilda is safe in the village and may come and go as she pleases so
long as she does not approach the castle, and perhaps even that the
Archbishops' troops will allow. They are not warring with women, but
with the master of Thuron and his followers. All those who have left the
castle are in more prosperous circumstances than we who remain, for
should the fighting become desperate and a sack ensue, I should rather
have friends of mine out than in."
"Is there danger of the castle being taken?"
"I think the danger is not great, but the Archbishops do not agree with
me, otherwise they would not have encircled us. Then chance works
strange pranks in situations like ours. The truth is, no one can tell
what may happen."
"That is not encouraging, is it?"
"You see I have got into the habit of talking to you just as if you were
a fellow campaigner, for you are certainly not the least courageous in
this garrison; indeed I doubt if any one else would have had the bravery
to face the Count as you have done on more than one occasion. I intended
when I came here to-night, to relieve your mind of anxiety regarding
Hilda, and forgot that we might need mutual encouragement over our
situation. I confess I am rather eager to know what is going to happen,
and I wouldn't be anywhere else than where I am for the wealth of the
Archbishops themselves. I count much on your uncle, and I think their
high and mighty Lordships may wish they had encountered some one else
before they are done with him. He is a man of the most headlong courage,
as you will see when you know him better, and when you remember that he
has probably never been contradicted in his life till we thrust
ourselves upon him, I think he is almost amenable to reason."
"Alas, I have not found him so, and my aunt can hardly be looked upon as
a favourable example of treatment by a reasonable man. She trembles when
his name is mentioned, or when she hears his footstep."
"Nevertheless, I hope you will not give up all efforts toward his
reclamation. Believe me, he has sterling qualities that I would were
more conspicuous in some of his followers."
The Countess sighed deeply and drew her robe closer about her. The torch
had gone out, but the rising moon had begun to silver the top of the
round tower. The place was as still and peaceful as if it had been some
remote convent garden, far removed from the busy world and its strife.
"It is growing late," said Tekla, "and I must bid you good-night. Your
coming has cheered me."
"It gives me delight to hear you say so. May I not come here to-morrow
night at the same hour and bring you the latest news?"
"Yes," replied the lady, adding, "again good-night."
Her white form was swallowed up by the dark hangings and the young man
climbed the stairs of the tall south tower.