TO THE RESCUE
But the late prisoner did not speak at once, though his captor stood
back as though to permit him to explain himself. He was still bound and
gagged. Discovering which, Max in a very philosophical and leisurely
manner assisted him to relieve himself of a rolled kerchief which had
been placed in his mouth.
Even then his throat refused its office till Werner von Orseln handed
him a great cup of wine from which he drank deeply.
"Speak!" said Joan. "What disaster has brought you here? Is Kernsberg
taken?"
"The Eagle's Nest is harried, my lady, but that is not what hath brought
me hither!"
"Have they found out this my--prison? Are they coming to capture me?"
"Neither," returned Alt Pikker. "Maurice von Lynar is in the hands of
his cruel enemies, and on the day after to-morrow, at sunrise, he is to
be torn to pieces by wild horses."
"Why?" "Wherefore?" "In what place?" "Who would dare?" came from all
about the table; but the mother of the young man sat silent as if she
had not heard.
"To save Kernsberg from sack by the Muscovites, Maurice von Lynar went
to Courtland in the guise of the Lady Joan. At the fords of the Alla we
delivered him up!"
"You delivered him up?" cried Theresa suddenly. "Then you shall die! Max
Ulrich, your knife!"
The dumb man gave the knife in a moment, but Theresa had not time to
approach.
"I went with him," said Alt Pikker calmly.
"You went with him," repeated his mother after a moment, not
understanding.
"Could I let the young man go alone into the midst of his enemies?"
"He went for my sake!" moaned Joan. "He is to die for me!"
"Nay," corrected Alt Pikker, "he is to die for wedding the Princess
Margaret of Courtland!"
Again they cried out upon him in utmost astonishment--that is, all the
men.
"Maurice von Lynar has married the Princess Margaret of Courtland?
Impossible!"
"And why should he not?" his mother cried out.
"I expected it from the first!" quoth Joan of the Sword Hand, disdainful
of their masculine ignorance.
"Well," put in Alt Pikker, "at all events, he hath married the Princess.
Or she has married him, which is the same thing!"
"But why? We knew nothing of this! He told us nothing. We thought he
went for our lady's sake to Courtland! Why did he marry her?" cried
severally Von Orseln and the Plassenburg captains.
"Why?" said Theresa the mother, with assurance. "Because he loved her
doubtless. How? Because he was his father's son!"
And Theresa being calm and stilling the others, Alt Pikker got time to
tell his tale. There was silence in the grange of Isle Rugen while it
was being told, and even when it was ended for a space none spoke. But
Theresa smiled well pleased and said in her heart, "I thank God! My son
also shall meet Henry the Lion face to face and not be ashamed."
After that they made their plans.
"I will go," said Conrad, "for I have influence with my brother--or, if
not with him, at least with the folk of Courtland. We will stop this
heathenish abomination."
"I will go," said Theresa, "because he is my son. God will show me a way
to help him."
"We will all go," chorussed the captains; "that is--all save Werner----"
"All except Boris----!"
"All except Jorian----!"
"Who will remain here on Isle Rugen with the Duchess Joan?" They looked
at each other as they spoke.
"You need not trouble yourselves! I will not remain on Isle Rugen--not
an hour," said Joan. "Whoever stays, I go. Think you that I will permit
this man to die in my stead? We will all go to Courtland. We will tell
Prince Louis that I am no duchess, but only the sister of a duke. We
will prove to him that my father's bond of heritage-brotherhood is null
and void. And then we will see whether he is willing to turn the
princedom upside down for such a dowerless wife as I!"
"For such a wife," thought Conrad, "I would turn the universe upside
down, though she stood in a beggar's kirtle!"
But being loyally bound by his promise he said nothing.
It was Theresa von Lynar who put the matter practically.
"At a farm on the mainland, hidden among the salt marshes, there are
horses--those you brought with you and others. They are in waiting for
such an emergency. Max will bring them to the landing-place. Three or
four of your guard must accompany him. The rest will make ready, and at
the first hint of dawn we will set out. There is yet time to save my
son!"
She added in her heart, "Or, if not, then to avenge him."
Strangely enough, Theresa was the least downcast of the party. Death
seemed a thing so little to her, even so desirable, that though the
matter concerned her son's life, she commanded herself and laid her
plans as coolly as if she had been preparing a dinner in the grange of
Isle Rugen.
But her heart was proud within her with a great pride.
"He is Henry the Lion's son. He was born a duke. He has married a
princess. He has tasted love and known sacrifice. If he dies it will be
for the sake of his sister's honour. 'Tis no bad record for twenty
years. These things _he_ will count high above fame and length of days!"
* * * * *
The little company which set out from Isle Rugen to ride to Courtland
had no thought or intention of rescuing Maurice von Lynar by force of
arms. They knew their own impotence far too exactly. Yet each of the
leaders had a plan of action thought out, to be pursued when the city
was reached.
If her renunciation of her dignities were laughed at, as she feared,
there was nothing for Joan but to deliver herself to Prince Louis. She
had resolved to promise to be his wife and princess in all that it
concerned the outer world to see. Their provinces would be united,
Kernsberg and Hohenstein delivered unconditionally into his hand.
On his part, Werner von Orseln was prepared to point out to the Prince
of Courtland that with Joan as his wife and the armies and levies of
Hohenstein added to his own under the Sparhawk's leadership, he would be
in a position to do without the aid of the Prince of Muscovy altogether.
Further, that in case of attack from the north, not only Plassenburg and
the Mark, but all the Teutonic Bond must rally to his side.
Boris and Jorian, being stout-hearted captains of men-at-arms, were
ready for anything. But though their swords were loosened in their
sheaths to be prepared for any assault, they were resolved also to give
what official dignity they could to their mission by a free use of the
names of their master and mistress, the Prince Hugo and Princess Helene
of Plassenburg. They were sorry now that they had left their
credentials behind them, at Kernsberg, but they meant to make confidence
and assured countenances go as far as they would.
Conrad, who was intimately acquainted with the character of his brother,
and who knew how entirely he was under the dominion of Prince Ivan, had
resolved to use all powers, ecclesiastical and secular, which his
position as titular Prince of the Church put within his reach. To save
the Sparhawk from a bloody and disgraceful death he would invoke upon
Courtland even the dread curse of the Greater Excommunication. With his
faithful priests around him he would seek his brother, and, if
necessary, on the very execution place itself, or from the high altar of
the cathedral, pronounce the dread "Anathema sit." He knew his brother
well enough to be sure that this threat would shake his soul with
terror, and that such a curse laid on a city like Courtland, not too
subservient at any time, would provoke a rebellion which would shake the
power of princes far more securely seated than Prince Louis.
The only one of the party wholly without a settled plan was the woman
most deeply interested. Theresa von Lynar simply rode to Courtland to
save her son or to die with him. She alone had no influence with Prince
Ivan, no weapon to use against him except her woman's wit.
As the cavalcade rode on, though few, they made a not ungallant show.
For Theresa had clad Prince Conrad in a coat of mail which had once
belonged to Henry the Lion. Joan glittered by his side in a corselet of
steel rings, while Werner von Orseln and the two captains of Plassenburg
followed fully armed, their accoutrements shining with the burnishing of
many idle weeks. These, with the men-at-arms behind them, made up such
an equipage as few princes could ride abroad with. But to all of them
the journey was naught, a mere race against time--so neither horse nor
man was spared. And the two women held out best of all.
But when in the morning light of the second day they came in sight of
Courtland, and saw on the green plain of the Alla a great concourse, it
did not need Alt Pikker's shout to urge them forward at a gallop, lest
after all they should arrive too late.
"They have brought him out to die," cried Joan. "Ride, for the young
man's life!"