The Countess Tekla having dismissed her waiting-maid, sat long in her boudoir over-looking the Moselle, and thought deeply upon the question that the girl had brought uppermost, by asking if the Countess had abandoned all purpose of making an excursion on the river. Such indeed had once been her intention if the iron Archbishop, her unrelenting guardian, persisted in forcing his will upon her. His last word had been given her the day the Court left Treves, and it was to the effect that she should hold herself in readiness to wed Count Bertrich at the Cathedral when the Court returned. The time for preparation was short, and once inside the walls of that grim city, all chance of escape would be cut off. Could she but reach Castle Thuron, the lofty stronghold of her uncle Count Heinrich the Black, on the Lower Moselle, she felt that, for the sake of kinship, if not for her broad lands, he would refuse to give her up again to the Archbishop and to this abhorred union with a middle-aged ruffian, who, rumour said, had murdered his first wife.
The stern Black Count, her uncle, she had never seen, and what she had heard of him was disquieting enough. His mailed hand was heavy, and it came down with crushing force on all who opposed his will; but he could not make for her a more detested match than that which the Archbishop insisted upon; and then he was her mother's brother; if any trace of softness was concealed in his adamantine nature his niece might perhaps touch it, for he had no children of his own.
Yet the Countess felt that in setting up her own will against that of her guardian she was doing an unheard of, unmaidenly act. All women were thus disposed of. How came it that rebellion against just authority arose in her heart? She could not herself account for this strange anomaly, and she feared that evil lurked somewhere in her nature. She had confessed this feeling to her spiritual adviser, and he had mildly, reproachfully censured her for it, placing her under penance that she willingly endured, hoping it would bring about a change; but it had not, and she shuddered every time the battle-scarred face of Count Bertrich leered upon her. The Countess knelt before the image of her patron saint and implored help; help to decide; help to oppose; help to submit; but the placid saint had sent, as yet, no solution of the problem.
When last the Archbishop spoke, he spoke as one giving final decision and he permitted neither reply nor comment. The days by the river were slipping away and none knew how soon the Archbishop might suddenly make up his mind to return to Treves. Then the Cathedral, and the wedding procession! Why had Hilda spoken of the river and the skiff; that wild project which she had prayed for help to put out of her mind? Was this then an indication that her saint had come to a decision and that too in her favour? It certainly seemed so.
She resolved to seek her guardian, throw herself at his feet and implore him by the love he had once held for her father, who had lost his life in the Archbishop's service, to release her from this loathed union. She would give up her lands willingly, if that were required, and would retire to a convent in Treves, or to any other place of refuge that might be appointed.
Arnold von Isenberg sat in a chair that was with difficulty to be distinguished from a throne. The back rose high above his head, and at the top was carved in gilded relief the arms of the Electorate. The tall pointed coloured windows by the river, cast a subdued radiance of many hues on the smooth surface of the polished oaken floor. The lofty timbered roof of the large room gave the apartment the appearance of a chapel, which effect was heightened by an altar at one end, where several high wax candles burned unceasingly.
Near the Archbishop, by a table, sat the monkish secretary, who wrote at his Lordship's slow dictation, orders pertaining to business both ecclesiastical and military. At the door of the room, which was concealed by a heavy crimson curtain, stood two fully-mailed men-at-arms, with tall pikes upright, whose ends rested on the polished floor. Near them, out of hearing of the Archbishop's low voice, stood, cap in hand, a courier equipped for riding, evidently awaiting the despatches which the monk was writing. Deep silence pervaded the great room and each person within it was motionless, save only the monk, who now was tying the despatches into bundles and sealing them at the small candle which burned on the table beside him.
The heavy drapery over the door parted, and a retainer entered softly, standing with his back to the curtain until a scarcely perceptible motion of the Archbishop's head permitted him to advance. Dropping on one knee before the seated monarch, he said:
"My Lord Archbishop, the Countess Tekla begs to be admitted."
The Archbishop made no reply, and the messenger remained on his knee. The despatches were given to the waiting courier, who departed. Then his Lordship said curtly, "Admit her."
The messenger, rising, went to the door, held back the curtains, and a moment later there glided into the room the Countess Tekla, who stood pale against the crimson background. The Archbishop regarded her with a dark and menacing look, but gave no other greeting. Seeing no motion which invited her to approach, the girl, after standing a moment or two in hesitation, moved swiftly forward and sank down before the throne.
"My Lord," she murmured; then agitation seemed to choke her utterance.
"If you come here to kneel," said the Archbishop, in low, deep tones, "kneel at the altar yonder and not to me. While you are there, pray that the saints bestow upon you a contrite spirit."
"My Lord," she cried, "I beg of you to take my lands, and graciously permit me to retire to a convent that you may be pleased to appoint for me."
"Your lands are mine, as your person is mine, to dispose of at my will, unquestioned."
"My Lord, when my father gave my guardianship to you——"
"I hold my guardianship, not by your father's will, but through the reading of the feudal law. Your father, in dutifully testifying that his wish ran parallel with the law, set an example which his daughter may profitably follow."
"I wish to follow his example. I wish to render up to you all lands that were his. I wish to devote my poor services to Mother Church."
"Your poor services shall be given where I bestow them. Betake yourself to your apartments, and come not here again until you bring with you a bending will and an unrebellious spirit."
"My lord guardian, I do beseech you to hear me."
"I have heard enough and too much," said the Archbishop sternly. "Write," he added to the secretary: "'To Count Bertrich. Hold yourself in readiness to wed the Countess Tekla in the chapel of our summer palace two days hence—on Friday at mid-day.'"
The Countess rose to her feet, the colour mounting to her cheek and brow.
"My Lord," she cried, a ring of indignation in her voice, "add to that a request that the Count disclose to you the cause of his first wife's death, so that you may judge whether he is a fit person to entrust with a second."
"You may question him regarding that after marriage. I have ever understood that a man will grant information to his bride which he risks peril of his soul by concealing from his confessor. To your apartments, obstinate woman; there is but brief space to prepare for the festivities."
"My Lord, my Lord, I bid you beware. It is feudal law that you may dispose of my hand as you will; but by feudal law I also have the right to make choice instead of a convent and forfeiture of my lands."
"Despatch that message to Count Bertrich," said the Elector to his secretary.
"My Lord Archbishop, I will appeal to our Holy Father, the Pope, and to the Emperor."
"Do so. We will marry you first, and should we have made a mistake our Holy Father hath ample power to remedy it. And now, madame, your audience is ended."
The Countess retired to her apartments, knelt before the image of her saint and prayed for guidance. She was in some doubt that the harsh old man would insist on the carrying out of his threat, and she had hope that he would send for her to tell her so, but no message came from him. Tekla slept little that night, and going down to early mass she saw the chapel already decorated for the dreaded ceremony, the workmen having evidently spent the night in preparing it.
The floral wreaths, the loops of white flowers breathing sweetness and perfume, typical of love, joy and happiness, seemed in such ghastly contrast to the reality, that their simple presence did more to decide the girl than all the other influences which, on that eventful day, helped to shape her conduct.
She resolved to escape from the thraldom of the Archbishop; seek refuge in the castle of her uncle, and from that haven send an appeal to the Pope and also to the Emperor. The only question was now that of means. Castle Thuron was on the Moselle; the river was swift; she knew little of the geography of the country, but she was aware that the roads by the stream were bad, and she doubted if they extended all or even the greater part of the way to the Rhine. Could she once get several hours start, on that rapid current, the chances of being overtaken were slight.
While the Countess had full confidence in her maid Hilda, she thought it better not to confide her plans to any one. Hilda would be sure to tell her lover, and that young man might at the very outset refuse to undertake so perilous a voyage.
Then if Hilda were cross-questioned and became frightened, she could not confess what she did not know. In the case of failure Tekla wished to face all the results of her rebellion alone, and leave herself the right to say that none other knew of her purpose. Questioning Hilda, and finding she had learned where Conrad lived, the Countess, with the natural craft of her sex, made preparations calculated to baffle her pursuers, temporarily at least. When darkness set in, she requested Hilda to lay out for her the costume she usually wore. This costume she astonished Hilda by asking her to put on. When the tire-woman had thus arrayed herself the two looked like sisters, and Hilda laughed merrily at the transformation, which caused even the Countess, anxious as she was, to smile.
"Now listen attentively, Hilda, and act with circumspection. I have reason for wishing you to be mistaken for me to-night. You will put on this heavy veil so that none may see your face. Go quietly through the Palace and pass the guards without speaking to any or looking at any. Avoid meeting three persons at all hazards; return at once if you see one or other of them, and hie forth again as soon as danger is past. These three are the Archbishop, Count Bertrich, and the monk who is his Lordship's secretary. The guards will not stop you nor speak to you, thinking it is I who pass. Once outside, see that you are not followed, then get you to Conrad's house and bid him instantly to take you in his boat to the watersteps of the Palace, where I will await you."
"Conrad spoke of another to help him with the boat; should he be absent shall Conrad search for him, my Lady?"
"No. If he is there, bring him; if he is not, come instantly without. But first you must come with me to the water-door and bolt the door when I am out upon the steps."
"But how shall we return, my Lady?"
"I will tell thee more regarding our return when we are in the boat."
Hilda barred her lady out, which seemed a strange proceeding, then, safely reached without question or following, the door of Baron Siegfried, where she knocked twice.
"It is the Countess Tekla herself," cried Conrad, at the window.
"Then unbar at once and do not keep her waiting," commanded the Emperor, eagerly.
The bolts were instantly drawn back and the door thrown open.
"Oh, Conrad," whispered Hilda, flinging the veil over her shoulder, thus disclosing her face. She paused in the midst of her speech when she saw a stranger standing there.
"It is Hilda," said Conrad, to the Emperor. "Why do you masquerade as the Countess, Hilda?"
"It was her ladyship's wish. You are to take me in the boat with you immediately. The Countess awaits us at the watersteps."
The trap-door was open, and the Emperor descended, saying, hastily, "Come, Conrad."
"He is no boatman," whispered Hilda, holding back in alarm. "Who is——"
"Hush!" breathed Conrad, "trust to me and come."
An instant later the boat was pushed out with its three passengers, moving swiftly and silently down the stream, propelled by the lusty but noiseless strokes of Conrad's paddle. As they approached the watersteps it seemed at first that no one was there, but as Conrad with outstretched arm placed hand on the stone stairway and brought the boat to a stand, the shadowy form of the Countess came away from the closed door and a whisper breathed the name of Hilda. Hilda responded reassuringly, and the Countess came down the steps, Rodolph standing and handing her into the boat with a deference that the lady was too much agitated to notice. Her small hand, lightly touching his as she stepped into the boat, sent a thrill through him such as he had never experienced before. The Countess sat down with her back toward him, facing Hilda and Conrad.
"Now, good rowers," she said, breathing quickly, "keep within the shadow of the bank until we are sure to have escaped espionage, then I shall have further instructions, and remember that if you work well and silently I shall reward you beyond your hopes."
"May that prove true in my case," said Rodolph to himself.
The huge Palace seemed to float to the west; the moon shone brightly, but there was shadow enough thrown by the low bank to conceal the voyagers not only from chance wayfarers, should there be any, which was unlikely, but also from each other. The summer night was warm, and not a breath of wind rippled the surface of the river. Now and then some waterfowl, disturbed by their approach, plashed two or three times, beating wing against water, until it rose with a cry and soared away into the night.
They had made down the river for nearly an hour when Conrad began murmuring to Hilda, who sat next him.
"The Countess does not know how swift this river is," he said. "We will not get back in a week if we go much further. If it had been up the stream time would matter little, but down——"
"What does he say?" asked the Countess.
"He fears we cannot return betimes if we go further. The current is fleet to row against."
"Conrad," said the Countess, bending towards him, "we go not back, but forward. Seek the speediest part of the river, and guide the boat into it. I am on my way to Castle Thuron near the Rhine."
Both Hilda and Conrad gave utterance to exclamations of astonishment and alarm.
"But the Archbishop?" cried Hilda.
"But my master!" groaned Conrad.
"The Archbishop will follow us in hot haste when he finds us gone, Hilda, which will be some time before noontide to-morrow, therefore must Conrad persuade the swift stream to aid his stout arms."
"The boat is not mine," said Conrad, "and I have left my master without his sanction."
"I will amply reward your master for the losing of his boat, and you for the guiding of it. Both you and your comrade will I take into my employ, and neither shall lose by the transfer."
"Will you stand for me against my master as you did before, my Lord," cried Conrad, in great alarm at the possible consequences of his desertion from a master who brooked no excuse.
"My Lord!" cried the Countess, half-rising and looking round for the first time at the second boatman, on whom the moonlight now fell, showing that he had removed his cap, and was bowing to her.
"I pray you, madame, do not stand, for this boat is but unsteady at best. I beg you not to be alarmed, for I shall be as faithful to your behests as Conrad here, and no man can give himself higher warrant."
"What lord are you, or are you one?"
"Conrad, in his excitement, gives me title to which I make no claim, exaggerating my importance because of some influence I have exerted on his behalf with his master."
"What is your name and quality, for I see you are no waterman?"
"I am sorely disappointed to hear you say so, madame, for I hoped to make good my reputation as waterman by my work to-night. My name is Rodolph, and none who know me will deny I am a gentleman."
"Are you German?"
"As German as the Emperor and a fellow-countryman of his."
"You are a Swiss adventurer, then?"
"All men have a touch of the adventurer about them: I not more than others, I hope."
"Why are you here disguised as a boatman?"
"I am not disguised, but in my ordinary dress—the costume in which I have appeared these few days past in Treves. The house by the river, of which Conrad is caretaker, belongs to my friend, who is Conrad's master. It happened that I was there when your tire-woman came in real disguise, and when I heard that you awaited the boat on the watersteps of the Palace I felt sure something more serious than an excursion by moonlight was intended, although Conrad suspected nothing. I came, therefore, thinking you might perhaps need the help of a good sword, and that sword I now lay at your feet."
"I need a swift paddle rather than the best of swords. My safety lies in flight, and not in fighting."
"My services as oarsman are also at your disposal, madame. I trust that in your presence there will be no need for swordsmanship; but should such necessity arise a stout blade is not to be despised."
The Countess mused for some moments in silence, evidently disquieted by the intrusion of a stranger, yet well aware that if he proved true and staunch his help might be invaluable. It was impossible for her to question Conrad about him in his presence, for she saw he was a gentleman, as he had asserted, but a fear arose that he might be some adherent of the Archbishop, intent on furthering his own interests by delivering her into the hands of his Lordship's minions. She knew that at various posts along the river, companies of the Archbishop's troops were stationed—at Bruttig, at Cochem, and elsewhere; he could, at the moment of passing any one of these places, give the alarm which would result in her immediate capture. He was armed and Conrad was not, therefore there might be some difficulty in disposing of him even if no help were at hand. Still anything was better than uncertainty, and she resolved to act at once. The river now ran between high hills, densely wooded from top to water's edge. If he could be put off it were better to disembark him in a wilderness like this, than at some settlement where he had opportunity of raising the hue and cry of pursuit. Yet she did not wish to leave him to starve or be torn in pieces by wild boars roaming an almost unlimited forest. The perplexing part of the problem lay in the fact that if he were a spy and a traitor he might refuse to land, while if he were a true man he would rid them of his company when he saw that it was not wanted.
The Countess leaned forward and spoke to Conrad.
"Do you know this river?"
"I know it as far as Cochem, my lady."
"Where are we now, think you?"
"We are some two leagues above the ancient Roman town of Boveris."
Turning to Rodolph, she said:
"Is the Archbishop your over-lord?"
"No, madame. I am a free man, owing allegiance to none."
"Not to the Emperor?"
"To the Emperor, of course, but to none other."
"Where did you come from, and how long have you been in Treves?"
"I came from Frankfort some three or four days since, and never saw Treves before."
"You came to seek service with the Archbishop perhaps?"
"No, madame. I am a student as well as soldier. I came merely to inform myself regarding the manners and customs of so celebrated and ancient a city as Treves."
"Know you who I am?"
"You are the Countess Tekla, ward of the Archbishop of Treves and niece of Count Heinrich, to whose Castle of Thuron you are now betaking yourself."
"You are well informed. For what object did you gather this knowledge?"
"I sat on horseback outside the North Gate, having just arrived from Frankfort, when the Archbishop and his train passed through on their way to the summer palace. I saw you riding by his side, and discovered who you were."
"Were you similarly inquisitive regarding the other ladies of the Court?"
"I saw no others, madame."
The Countess seemed taken aback by this reply and remained silent for a few moments. At last she said, with deep displeasure in her voice:
"I distrust you, sir. If you are a gentleman, as you say, you are aware that none such thrusts himself uninvited into a lady's presence. I ask you, therefore, to leave us."
"I am truly grieved, madame, to refuse your slightest request, but I will not leave you until I see you safely at the gate of Castle Thuron."
This refusal at once confirmed all the fears the Countess had entertained. With rising anger she cried:
"Not to the gates of Thuron will you deliver me, but to the Archbishop's troops at Bruttig, and then return to Treves for your reward."
Having said this she did what any girl of nineteen might have been expected to do—she buried her face in her hands and wept.
"Madame," said Rodolph, "forgive me. I may have overrated my ability to serve you in the future, but I see there is no doubt I cause you present distress. I will at once do as you desire. Conrad, draw the boat toward the northern shore."
When the craft touched the bank Rodolph sprang on a rock that jutted into the stream. Before leaving the skiff he slipped his cloak from his shoulders and allowed it to remain where he had been seated. On landing he drew his sword from its scabbard and flung it to Conrad, saying, "Use that only when you are compelled to do so, but trust, unless something unforeseen occurs, to the paddle. Keep the boat in the swiftest part of the current and stop question for none. And now, away with all speed, getting as far down the river as possible before daybreak."
Conrad looked stupidly from the sword lying at the bottom of the boat, up to its owner standing on the rock, not comprehending at first what had happened or was about to happen. When the situation broke upon him he cried:
"You are surely not going to desert us, my Lord?"
Rodolph gave no answer, but the Countess, drying her tears, made reply to him.
"It is my wish that he leave us, Conrad."
"If that be the case," said Conrad, stoutly, "I return to Treves. I have put my neck in a halter only on the assurance of his Lordship that the rope be not pulled. If my surety is gone, then will the halter tighten. Not an inch further down the Moselle do I go; in truth, we are much too far already, and God knows what time we shall see Treves again, against this current."
"Tell your fellow," said the Countess, imperiously, to Hilda, "that he must complete the task he has begun. He will obey you, even though he refuse orders from me, and I will protect him at the journey's end."
"Indeed, indeed, my Lady," cried Hilda, in despair, torn between love for her lover and loyalty to her mistress, "why cannot we go on as we began? What needs this lord to be sent thus adrift in the forest, weaponless?"
"We want not his weapon; our safety, as he himself says, is in flight. Give back the sword, Conrad. I will protect you."
"Pardon me, my Lady," replied Conrad, with sullen stubbornness, "but how you can protect me when you are flying for your own safety I cannot comprehend. The one who can protect me and who has done so, stands on the bank, and either he comes again into the boat, or I go back to Treves. The fewer words that are spoken the less time there is lost."
The Countess Tekla was quick in her decisions. She turned to the young man standing silent in the moonlight upon the rock. She could not but see what a handsome manly fellow he was, and at the sight of him her fears regarding his loyalty diminished, in spite of herself, although she strove in her own mind to justify her action.
"My Lord, as they persist in calling you, in derision of your disclaimer, you see my crew has mutinied on your account. I beg of you, therefore, to return to your place."
"Countess," answered Rodolph, "more great enterprises have been wrecked through mutiny within the ranks, than because of the enemy without. It is unpleasant to be looked upon as a traitor by one we are proud to serve freely, therefore, as a condition of returning I must ask you to withdraw the imputation you cast upon me."
"I do withdraw it. Have you further terms to make now that you see me helpless?"
"I shall take advantage of your helplessness to impose one more condition. I am to be captain of this expedition, my power being absolute and unquestioned. You, not less than they, are to be under my orders, which must be obeyed promptly and implicitly. Do you agree?"
"Having no choice, I agree."
"Countess, as you will, when your expedition succeeds, make generous amends for the present ungraciousness of your acceptance, I am content to wait for commendation until then. Conrad, give me the sword. Hilda, sit in the bottom of the boat, and Conrad will fling his cloak about your shoulders. Countess, my cloak will form but an inefficient carpet, still 'tis better than naught. Lay your head in Hilda's lap, and your own cloak shall be your coverlet. So. Now to sleep. Conrad, strike out for mid-stream."
Propelled by the sturdy strokes of both, the boat shot out from under cover of the land and re-commenced its rapid voyage down the river. Now and then a sleeping village was passed, and once disaster was narrowly averted when Conrad's quick eye recognised the floating logs which upheld the linked loops of chain that stretched across the river below a robber castle.
This obstruction was intended to stop boats of deeper draught than the light skiff, and compel their owners to pay reluctant tribute to the lord of the castle. The skiff passed midway between two of the logs and floated over the submerged chain in safety.
The banks on either hand were high, almost mountainous, and those on the northern side were clothed with vines nearly to the summit.
The moon sank behind the hills and for a time the darkness was intense, rendering navigation a matter of some skill and alertness, not without a spice of danger. Both the Countess and Hilda slept peacefully and neither man spoke. Only an infrequent plash of paddle, or the lonely cry of a disturbed waterfowl, or night-bird, broke the stillness.
At last the short summer night gave token of ending. The lightening surface of the water first heralded the approach of dawn, then the stars began to dim over the eastern hills, and a faint, ever-spreading suggestion of grey crept up the sky beyond.
Rodolph ventured on a sigh of relief and weariness as the light increased and the difficulties of the task lessened, but he soon saw they were merely exchanging danger of one kind for danger of another, as an early man-at-arms on the right bank espying him, loudly commanded them to draw in and explain themselves, which command, being unheeded, he forthwith planted stake in ground, strung his cross-bow and launched a bolt at them in such hurry that it fell uselessly short and was a good bolt lost. By the time the second was ready, the skiff and its occupants were hopelessly out of range.
But the cry of the challenger had awakened the Countess, who sat up to see the red rim of the sun breaking out above the hills and flooding the valley with golden light.
"Are we nearly there?" she asked.
"I think not," answered Rodolph. "In truth, I know not where we are. Is it still far to Thuron, Conrad?"
"We are not yet half-way. It is, I judge, but seven hours since we left Treves, and if, with this current and our own work, we have sped two leagues an hour we have done well. That gives us fourteen leagues accomplished. From Treves to Thuron is somewhere about thirty-four leagues, so there must be twenty at least before us."
The Countess gave a cry of despair. "Is it then so far? I thought we would reach the castle by daybreak. Have we passed the Archbishop's palace at Cochem?"
"No, my lady. Cochem is but six short leagues from Thuron."
"Is it your wish, madame, to stop at Cochem?" asked Rodolph.
"Oh no, no. Anywhere but there. I am well known to all about the palace."
"But none would have the right to detain you."
"Not the right perhaps, but the power. To see me travel thus, without fitting escort, would be sure to arouse suspicion, and the custodian of the palace might well take it upon himself to hold me there until he knew the Archbishop's pleasure."
"We must have food. Conrad, know you of any inn further on?"
"There are no inns along the Moselle except at Bruttig and Cochem; I think there is a house at each place where soldiers drink and boatmen eat and lodge."
"How far is Bruttig from here?"
"About ten leagues, my Lord."
"That is five hours at this going. What soldiers are at Bruttig?"
"The followers of Count Winneburg, those of the Count of Beilstein, and soldiers of the Archbishop."
"If the Archbishop's soldiers are there I beg that you will not stop," said the Countess.
"I am not sure but protection lies in the very fact that they are there. Your flight, in all likelihood, has not yet been discovered in Treves; we have many hours the start of pursuit, and are not likely to be overtaken. Still we shall not stop there, if food can be procured elsewhere."
When the sun was two hours high, they drew in at a village on the northern bank, nestling at the foot of the vineyard-covered hill. Here they rested for an hour and broke their fast in a fashion. Nothing but the coarsest of black bread could be obtained, with some flagons of inferior white wine. The river was now broader and the current less swift, so that progress was more slow than had been the case during the night. In addition, they had frequently to creep close to the bank on one side or the other to escape observation, and this delayed them. Consequently the sun was well past meridian when Bruttig, with the Castle above it came into sight, and all in the boat were ravenously hungry.
"We will halt here and dine," said Rodolph. "I think there is nothing to fear. I have a passport, and I am a merchant from Frankfort, journeying from Treves to Coblentz. You, madame, are my—my sister, and these two are our servants. It is well to remember this if we are questioned separately. You, Conrad, will wait by the boat, and I will have food and wine sent to you. Countess, I shall escort you to the inn and Hilda will wait upon you. Much depends on acting naturally and showing no anxiety."
The Countess made no objection to this arrangement, and Conrad, with a stroke of his paddle, turned his boat towards the sloping beach that ran along the river in front of the little town.
Bruttig consisted of a row of houses facing the river, some few hundred feet back from it. In the centre of the row, near the landing, which was rudely paved with round stones, stood the inn, a sufficiently forbidding-looking square structure, with an arched gateway in front, apparently leading to a courtyard. The gates could be closed at night, and doubtless were, so that, in a way, the inn might be successfully defended from assault should necessity arise, as was often the case in those troublous times.
The bewildering mixed jurisdiction of the place, governed as it was by no less than three over-lords, the Count of Winneburg, the Archbishop of Treves, and the Count of Beilstein, was shown by the different uniforms of the men-at-arms who now, in groups or singly, watched the landing of the party from the skiff.
The three Captains, who represented the three over-lords of Bruttig, were lounging round the doorway of the inn, watching the landing of the mysterious boatload. Such a frail craft coming down the Moselle was an unusual sight, and naturally attracted the attention of the three officers, who were, as a rule, excellent friends, except when a fight was in progress, and some question of jurisdiction came up that had to be argued on the spot with two-handed swords. They referred to each other by the titles of their chiefs, each man, being spoken to by his comrades as the Archbishop, Beilstein, or Winneburg.
"What have we here, Elector?" asked the Captain who commanded the forces of Count Winneburg.
"That is for our comrade Beilstein to answer; this motley crew belongs to him. You had the last boat-load to exact tribute from, and I the one before. I am glad that it falls upon Beilstein to deal with women, for such traffic befits not the Church," replied the Captain of Treves. The Captain of Beilstein, a tall, powerful, swarthy man in full armour, twirled his black moustache, which spread across his cheeks like a pair of ravens' wings, and gazed down at the landing party.
"There is this to be said, they give us little trouble in bringing them ashore, but are, apparently, about to walk confidently into the lion's mouth," remarked Beilstein, "which seems to argue that they are waterfowl, little worth the plucking."
"Rather that they know not whither they are bound," suggested the Elector. "The young spark hands my lady from the boat with something of an air about him that was not caught in trading booths, and the girl stepped daintily out upon the cobbles in a manner that suggests the Court. If she improves on closer inspection, Beilstein, you are in luck. Would there were three women instead of two."
"They are sufficient as it is," said Winneburg, with a chuckle, "for the Church has just disclaimed all desire for such merchandise."
"Ho, within there, Host," cried Beilstein, through the gateway. "Here comes gentle custom for thine inn, and you are not by to welcome it."
In response to his call a short burly sullen-looking man, with bullet head, came out and stood under the arch, looking at the group ascending from the river, but as there was little pleasure in his gaze he probably expected small profit from their approach.
Rodolph cast a rapid glance at the four men, bowed slightly to the three officers, who took no notice of his salutation, and addressing the host, said:
"This lady desires a room where she may rest unmolested after her journey. Let such refreshment as you have be instantly prepared. The lady will lunch in her room, and I will eat wherever pleases you. Send as speedily as possible, food and wine to my servant, who remains with my boat by the landing."
The host made no reply, but turned his lowering look upon the officers, as if waiting for word from one or all of them.
"You hear his Lordship's commands, I hope," roared Beilstein, "the best in the house for the lady and that without delay. The gentleman will doubtless wish to remain here and make the acquaintance of three good fellows."
The innkeeper, telling the Countess briefly to follow him, led the way within. Rodolph was about to enter the court-yard, when the stalwart Captain blocked his way, standing with feet set wide apart before him.
"Friend," began the Captain, genially, "we fall on turbulent times, when each man is suspicious of his neighbour. You have little objection, doubtless, to inform us who you are and why you travel."
"None at all," replied Rodolph. "I am a merchant of Frankfort; I journeyed to Treves, transacted there my business and am now returning to Frankfort by way of Coblentz."
"And the lady?"
"The lady is my sister. The two with us are our servants."
"You have little room in your craft for merchandise."
"We came to Treves on horseback by the Roman road, the merchandise carried by mules. It is now sold and thus I return empty-handed."
"Not entirely empty-handed, I trust, for you must have received something by way of honest recompense for honest merchandise. If you sent your gold back to Frankfort by the way the goods came, and now journey down the Moselle with barely enough to pay the innkeeper here for what you have of him, that, I fear, will be looked on by the virtuous barons as a slight upon their probity, and some may hold you to ransom merely to show all future travellers that the noble river is not to be thus lightly dealt with. But, as I before proclaimed to you, we live in a suspicious time, and you, probably do not expect your bare word to be taken regarding your quality. I need hardly ask you if there is in your possession some slight document having reference to your occupation."
"I have a passport, which I shall be pleased to exhibit on being assured of the right of any questioner to demand it."
"I am Captain of the forces here, stationed to serve my Lord, the Count of Beilstein, one of the three over-lords of Bruttig. By consent of my two colleagues of Treves and Winneburg I am Captain of the Day, responsible to my master and to them that no traitors come within our precincts. If further warrant of my right to question is required, then my good two-handed sword stands sponsor to me, dealing forth argument that few care to controvert. Is it your pleasure that I call upon it to set any doubts at rest concerning my authority?"
"Not so. The word of an officer is at all times sufficient for me. I merely desired to know to whom I should have the honour of submitting this document for inspection," saying which Rodolph handed to the officer his passport, although it was evident a moment later that the worthy man, brave soldier as he might be, could not read it. He turned it over and over in his hand, then glanced at the Captain of the Elector, who watched him with a smile.
"This seems in proper form," said Beilstein, shrugging his shoulders, "but you soldiers of the Church are on terms of acquaintance with these characters, which are denied to us who are more practised at arms than with the pen. Construe for us the sheet, Elector." The Captain of the Elector took the parchment and cast his eye over it.
"There is nothing here of a sister, merchant," he said, looking at Rodolph.
"It is not customary in Frankfort," replied Rodolph, "to take much account of our women. They come and go as they please, providing they are accompanied by a relative or guardian who possesses a proper passport."
"Frankfort customs hold not on the banks of the Moselle," said Beilstein, menacingly.
"Did your sister enter and leave Treves under this passport?" asked the Elector.
"Freely."
"Unquestioned?"
"Absolutely unquestioned."
"Did the Archbishop know of her presence?"
"She had the honour of appearing at the Archbishop's Court."
"Hum!" ejaculated the Captain of the Elector, doubtingly, lowering at the polite stranger suspiciously from under his bushy eyebrows. "The manners of his Lordship's Court must have changed since I knew aught of them, if Arnold von Isenberg invites Frankfort merchants to his circle."
"We have the privilege of being vouched for by Baron Siegfried von Brunfels, now in Treves. I may also add that although I engage in traffic, there is no plebeian blood in my veins."
The Elector's Captain handed the passport back to Beilstein, saying in an undertone, "I should not meddle with these people were I in your stead. 'Tis likely what he says may be true."
"And what is that to me?" cried Beilstein, angrily. "Bruttig is not under the jurisdiction of Arnold von Isenberg alone, nor will Winneburg or Beilstein suffer sole jurisdiction to be claimed by him under any pretence whatever. Speak I not true, Winneburg?"
"Aye," agreed Winneburg's Captain cordially, "and this party falls to you by fair agreement previously made."
"I have put forward no claim to special jurisdiction," said the Elector. "I gave a hint to a friend that it is ill meddling with any pet of the Lion of Treves. You may act on it or not, as pleases you. I shall not interfere unless the merchant here brings me written message from Arnold von Isenberg. Have you any such, sir? If so, give it to me before mistakes are made."
The trend of the discussion showed Rodolph that he was in danger of some kind, which might require all his craft to avoid, for if it came to blows he stood no chance whatever. He also realised that hope lay in winning to his side the good will of the Archbishop's Captain, and, if possible, in gaining some assurance of the neutrality of Winneburg's man. He imagined, however, that he saw a disposition on the part of the two local authorities to stand together against the Archbishop, and a reluctance on the part of the Archbishop's delegate to force matters to an issue. It was, all in all, a most difficult position.
"I have a message from the Archbishop to you, but it will please him better if I am not compelled to deliver it. We are peaceful travellers in his lordship's domains, and have a right to pass on our way without hindrance."
The surly host at this moment came out and announced that the meal was prepared. A lad passed through with a loaf and a measure of wine for Conrad. Rodolph, bowing to the three officers, followed the host.
"What do you propose to do?" asked Winneburg.
"I can tell you better when I have had a glimpse of the maiden. If she suits my fancy I shall have a broadsword bout with the brother, by way of introducing myself amicably to the family."
"Not the best method, perhaps, of commending yourself to the lady, whether victor or vanquished."
"The strong hand, Winneburg, is ever the surest, whether it grasps girl or gold."
The officer of the Archbishop remained silent, while the other two discussed the question. Something in the manner of Rodolph impressed him with the belief that the young man spoke as one having authority, and he knew that if a mistake were made, Arnold von Isenberg was one to punish first and weigh excuses after. He knew that if he opposed Beilstein, or even tendered advice, the obstinate officer would the more surely persist in whatever course he had marked out for himself, so he resolved to maintain silence and keep a watchful eye, governing his actions by whatever might befall. With a scarcely perceptible signal to his lieutenant, he conveyed a message to him that seemed to be instantly understood, for the subordinate at once set himself quietly to the gathering of his men, who grouped themselves round in an apparently casual manner, and remained within call.
While Beilstein and Winneburg were conversing Rodolph reappeared, with the Countess and her maid accompanying him. The sun had already begun to decline far in the west, and the cloudless sky gave promise of a fine summer evening. Beilstein strode forward.
"I have questioned your brother, my girl," he said, "and now, by your leave, I would have a word or two with you. But first draw aside your veil that we may all see whom we have had the pleasure of entertaining in our poor town of Bruttig."
The Countess shrank timidly from him without speaking, and Rodolph at once stepped between her and the officer.
"Sir," he said, gravely, "I have answered all your questions fairly and fully. If you have more to ask, propound them, I beg of you, to me, and I shall again reply until you are satisfied."
"Merchant," cried the officer, working himself into an anger, "your passport makes no mention of this lady. I must therefore look upon her face and judge if there is any sisterly likeness that may give colour of truth to your words. Madame, remove your veil, and put me not to the disagreeable duty of tearing it from your face."
"Is it possible, gentlemen," said Rodolph to the other two, "that a lady is to be thus insulted in your presence, and am I to take it that we can look for no protection from you?"
"It is none of my affair," said Winneburg, impartially.
"I can act only on the written authority of the Archbishop or on the spoken word of a superior officer, whom I personally know," replied the Archbishop's man, with a keen glance at Rodolph, which said as plainly as words, "If you have such authority, in God's name, produce it."
Rodolph, turning to the Countess, whispered, "Slip away to the boat while I hold this fellow in check. Get in and tell Conrad to push out into mid-stream. Float down the river and if I do not overtake you along the bank, hurry on alone to your journey's end."
"Sir," he said to the officer, "if you do not wish your own master to curse your interference, you will allow me to go my way without further question."
"Then you shall explain to my master who you are. Come back!" he cried to the Countess, who was hurrying down the slope, and he would have followed after her, but Rodolph, whipping out his slender rapier, stood squarely in the way.
"Ho, there, men of Beilstein!" shouted the officer, "stop those women. Tie me up that fellow at the boat, and cast the boat adrift. Now my fine merchant you have at last found your toy weapon. Is it your purpose to stand against me with that shivering reed?"
"I will do my best, if you insist on an encounter, which I beg of you and your comrades to note I have tried my utmost to avoid. But in fairness allow my sister to go, and wreak your vengeance on me alone. When did you men of the Moselle begin to war on women?"
"The woman shall be the prize of the contest," said the officer, confidently.
The other two looked on in amazement. The rapier was entirely unknown throughout Germany and had only recently come into use in Italy, where Rodolph, dwelling as he did, on the borders of that country, had learned its deadly use. The giant swung his two-handed sword once or twice round his head, and in a loud voice asked his antagonist if he were ready. Rodolph answered nothing, but threw away his cloak, which he would have used as an article of defence had he been opposed to one similarly armed to himself, knowing that in this encounter he must depend on his agility for his safety, and to the cumbrous nature of his opponent's blade, for his chance of attack. The battle was over almost before the spectators knew it had begun. Beilstein brought down an overhead swirl of his heavy blade which would assuredly have annihilated any living thing it encountered, but Rodolph sprang nimbly aside and when the blade struck the earth he darted sharply forward, thrusting the thin rapier through the officer's neck, the only unprotected vital part of his body, springing back again out of arm's length in an instant. The giant strove to raise his blade, but the effort caused a red jet of blood to leap from his throat, and spatter down upon his breast-plate. Rodolph stood apart, braced and alert, the sting of death held tense in his hand, showing not a trace of blood on its shining, needle-like length. No groan escaped the Captain, but a pallour overspread his swarthy face; he swayed to and fro like a tottering oak, apparently upheld by his huge sword, the point of which he had been unable to extricate from the earth. Then he suddenly collapsed, and came, with a clash of armour, to the ground.
The horrified lieutenant of Beilstein, seeing his master thus unaccountably slain, at once raised the cry of "Beilstein."
"Up! men of Beilstein!" he roared. "Your master is murdered. Surround his assassin and take him, dead or alive, to the castle. Beilstein! Beilstein!"
"I ask your protection, gentlemen," appealed Rodolph, turning to the remaining officers. "I claim adherence to the rule of the combat. I fought reluctantly, and only by compulsion. I demand the right to go without further opposition."
"Beilstein! Beilstein! Beilstein!" The cry reechoed through the town and soldiers came running from all quarters with weapons drawn.
"He speaks truth," said the Elector's man. "He has won his liberty, and may go for all I care."
"Not so," cried Winneburg. "It was no fair contest, but devil's swordsplay. To the castle with him and his brood."
The angry soldiery now pressed round Rodolph, but took good care to keep out of the reach of his flashing weapon.
"Get a pike," said one; "that will outreach him."
"Pikes, lances, pikes!" ran from mouth to mouth. Rodolph saw he must speedily be overpowered, and a scream from the affrighted women in the hands of the soldiery decided him to try a desperate remedy for a desperate case.
He sprang upon the prostrate body of his foe, and towering over the heads of the clamouring throng, raised his sword aloft and shouted, "The Archbishop! The lady is the Countess Tekla, ward of Arnold von Isenburg, insulted by these Moselle ruffians, while you cravens stand by and see it done. Officer, you have already nearly compassed your own damnation. Redeem yourself by instantly falling to the rescue. Treves! Treves! Is there an Archbishop's man within hearing? Treves! Treves! Treves!"
The Archbishop's officer at once gave the word, and his men, beating down opposition, formed around Rodolph and the Countess. Winneburg stood undecided, and before he made up his mind, the fight was over, the Beilstein men being demoralised for lack of a leader.
"You have entangled us in this affair," said the officer to Rodolph, "and if you have cried the Archbishop's name unwarranted, your head is likely to roll off in consequence. I have seen the Countess Tekla. Will she, therefore unveil so that I may be sure I have not been deluded, or do you prefer to wait until I hear from his Lordship?"
Before Rodolph could reply, the Countess threw back her veil.
"I am indeed, as you see, the Countess Tekla, ward of the Archbishop," she said.
"A fine watch you keep on the Moselle," cried Rodolph, with simulated indignation, "when the Countess Tekla cannot journey to her guardian's Castle of Cochem without having his Lordship insulted in her person by unmannerly marauders at Bruttig, where he supposes he holds through you, control and safe-conduct for all properly authenticated travellers!"
The officer bowed low to the Countess and to Rodolph.
"I crave your Lordship's indulgence and forgiveness. Had you but given me the slightest hint of this I would have protected you."
"I gave you all the hint I could, but you paid little heed to it."
"I am deeply to blame, and I implore your intercession with my Lord the Archbishop. I will myself, with a troop of horse, instantly escort you to Cochem and see you safely bestowed there."
"All I ask of you is to secure our boat and let us depart as we came."
"Alas! the boat is gone, and is now most likely half-way to Cochem. Shall I order you accommodation here until you can communicate with the Archbishop?"
"No, we will at once to Cochem. Have you horses for the Countess and myself and for our servants?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Then we will set out on our journey as soon as they are ready."
The officer saluted, and departed to give his orders.
"What shall we do? oh, what shall we do?" asked the Countess, wringing her hands.
"Do not be afraid," said Rodolph, with a confidence he did not himself feel. "We will be so much the further from Treves and so much the nearer to Thuron. We will ride side by side to Cochem, and then consult on what is best to be done when we get there. Meanwhile, keep a firm command of your agitation, and do not show fear. The officer has no suspicion, and will do whatever I ask of him. They, perhaps, do not know yet of your flight at Treves, and even if they did they cannot get here much before this time to-morrow, and not then unless they come by boat. Have no fear; I will, as I promised, see you safe in Thuron gate."
The Countess impulsively held out her hand, and gave a warm pressure to the one extended to her.
"Forgive me," she whispered, "for my distrust of you last night. You are a brave and true soldier."
The Captain presently appeared with a dozen mounted men at his back, and four led horses.
"I hold it well," he said to Rodolph, "to get as speedily away from Bruttig as may be. The lieutenant of Count Beilstein has gone in haste to the castle to tell his Highness what has happened, and it was not within my right to detain him. The Count will be beside himself with rage at the loss of his Captain, so it is safer that you lodge within Castle Cochem as soon as possible. He will think twice before he attacks the Archbishop's stronghold. Is it your will that I send a messenger to Treves to acquaint his Lordship with the welfare of his ward?"
"That is not necessary," replied Rodolph. "The Archbishop will doubtless prefer to hear of our safe arrival at Cochem, and a messenger can be sent from there. Is there a chance that we may be intercepted by the forces of Count Beilstein?"
"No interception is possible. His men here are without a leader, and will attempt nothing, even if they were able to accomplish anything. The Count himself will likely come in haste to Bruttig, but by that time we shall be in Cochem, I hope and although the road by the river is none of the best, it is as bad for him as for us."
"Let us get on, then," said Rodolph. He assisted the Countess to mount, sprang into his own saddle, and felt that exhilaration which comes to a horseman when he finds a spirited steed under him.
Four of the cavalry headed the procession, with eight to bring up the rear, the Countess and her attendants riding between. Rodolph rode by the side of the Countess, with Conrad and Hilda out of earshot behind them, the Captain leading the four horsemen in front. Their rough way led along the right bank of the river.
"Nothing has been heard from the Archbishop, I trust," said the Countess.
"There is little to fear from him until late to-morrow, and not even then unless your escape was discovered early to-day—a most unlikely event."
"But might not the pursuers ride all night?"
"A difficult and hazardous task they would set themselves in passing through the forest in the dark, and slow work even if successfully accomplished."
"Then we need have no apprehension if we can get clear of Cochem before the pursuers from Treves arrive at Bruttig?"
"Once quit of Cochem, pursuit will be futile. My plan is to keep a sharp look-out for the drifting boat. Conrad will secure it if possible, and we will get away from Cochem to-night, if we can leave the castle; but I know nothing of its conformation, nor of how it is guarded."
The Countess shook her head. "I am afraid it will be difficult to leave Cochem at night," she said. "The castle is always well and strictly guarded, and occupies an almost inaccessible position on the top of a hill."
"There is nothing for it then but to go with this escort to Cochem, and trust to Providence and our own ingenuity thereafter. I may have something to suggest when I have seen the place."
The increasing roughness of the road made conversation more and more difficult. An hour's riding and a turn in the river brought them in sight of the grand castle of Cochem, its numerous pinnacles glittering in the last rays of the setting sun. It was another hour before the cavalcade arrived opposite the place. A trumpeter of the troop blew a bugle blast that was echoed back from the rock-ribbed conical hill on which the castle stood. The signal was answered by another from the ramparts of the fortification itself, and presently a boat put out from the foot of the rock. In this boat the Countess and her attendant were placed, while those on horseback set their steeds to the swift current and landed some distance below, at the lower end of the little village that clustered from the foot of the hill, extending down the valley. The Countess mounted her dripping horse, and the troop rode slowly up a winding path that partly encircled the vine-clad hill, and at last arrived at the northern gate, which was the chief entrance to the castle. Here, after a brief parley, the portcullis was raised and the party admitted to a large courtyard that hung high above the Moselle, overlooking a long stretch of the river as it flowed toward the Rhine.
The custodian of the castle received his distinguished guest with that humble deference which befitted her lofty station, assisting her to dismount and evidently entertaining not the remotest suspicion that the visit was unauthorised. The Countess enacted her part well.
"I commend to your care," she said, imperiously, "my Lord Rodolph, who has conducted me from Treves. Until the Archbishop himself arrives you are to hold yourself entirely at his orders."
The custodian bowed low, first to the Countess and then to Rodolph.
"How soon may we look for his Highness the Archbishop?" he asked.
"You will most likely hear from him to-morrow. Is my suite of apartments ready?"
"They are now being prepared as speedily as possible; but as no messenger brought us word of your coming, I hope your Ladyship will pardon the delay," answered the custodian, with some trepidation.
The Countess made no reply, but with her whip beckoned Rodolph to her side.
"Do the troopers remain in the castle, or return to Bruttig to-night?"
"I have told their officer to keep them here until morning. If a messenger from the Archbishop arrives at Bruttig sooner than we look for, he will likely remain there until this officer returns. The Archbishop would count on the Captain being at his post, and it is not likely that the messenger's instructions would run further than Bruttig, which will give us further time."
"Will you then give your commands to the custodian regarding the disposal of the men? I think he will obey you; but it is well to discover this by bestowing orders first that are unimportant, before we put our power to a supreme test."
Rodolph gave directions, which, to his relief, were instantly obeyed. The custodian escorted Countess Tekla into the castle, while Rodolph walked round the courtyard to get some idea of the lay of the land and the construction of the fortifications. The view down the river was magnificent, as also was the outlook up the Endertsbach valley, with the huge round tower of Count Winneburg's castle standing out against the evening sky, built on a hill nearly equal in height to the one crowned by Schloss Cochem.
Rodolph's short examination of the castle's position speedily showed him that it was a place difficult to get into or escape from. To steal away at night was hardly practicable, unless one had a ladder of ropes, while to escape by day was equally hopeless, as a fugitive could be seen for miles in any direction until he was lost in the forest.
As the Emperor stood at the corner of the elevated terrace, gazing down the river, he became aware of some one's approach, and a moment later the deferential voice of the aged custodian broke the silence.
"A goodly sight, my Lord," he said, "and although I have looked at it for many a year, it never becomes less lovely to my eyes. It is rarely the same, varying with every change in the atmosphere, but always beautiful."
"It is indeed a marvelous view, and not to be the less enjoyed because your position up here is well nigh impregnable," answered Rodolph.
"Altogether so, I think," replied the custodian, with the pride of an old retainer in his castle and a belief in its unassailableness, the result of many futile assaults he had seen. "Before Cochem falls the souls of hundreds of its assailants will seek a final abiding place, in bliss or other where, as God wills."
"Does the road we came by from Bruttig, follow the river further down?"
"No, my Lord, it ends opposite the castle. On this side, however, there is a path that follows the river from village to village, but how far it goes, I do not know, for I never explored it to the end."
"Are there many castles between here and the Rhine?"
"Only three or four, some standing back from the river in the valleys that run into the Moselle. The chief castle is that of the Black Count, robber and marauder that he is, and it is called Thuron. Were it less strong, I think the good Archbishop would have smoked him out long ere this. Count Heinrich has a chain across the river, stopping all honest traffic until tribute is paid, and if there is any cavilling about it, he takes the whole cargo and casts the merchant into a dungeon to teach him respect for the nobility, as he says. But some day there will be a reckoning, for Black Heinrich, while compelling due respect to be paid by all inferiors, is himself most disdainful to those above him."
"Flouts he the Emperor, then?"
"Oh, the Emperor!" said the custodian, with a shrug of his shoulders, that might have been held contemptuous, "the Emperor is but a name, and commands scant respect along the Moselle. He is some young man recently elected, who loves better the dallying of his Court than the risking of good stout blows in the field. They tell me he comes from a noble family in Switzerland, and is not of Germany at all, and I warrant the Archbishop does not wait to ask his leave if he wishes to pull down a castle about the ears of a truculent Baron."
"Then it seems to me our friend, the Archbishop, may be accused of the same want of respect for higher authority that you lay at the door of Count Heinrich the Black."
"The worthy Archbishop, God bless him, recognises no over-lord but the Pope himself and I have sometimes doubted whether Arnold von Isenberg paid very much attention even to his Holiness; but then I am letting my tongue run away with me, and am talking of what concerns me not."
"It will do you no harm as long as I am the sole listener. Does Castle Thuron stand on this side of the river or on the other?"
"On the other. It crowns a hill somewhat similar to this and as high, but it is as unlike Cochem as one castle can be unlike another, for this is part palace and part fortress, while Thuron is a fortress pure and simple, and a strong one at that. A stout wall has been built from the castle down to the river, and it is said that there is a passage within, where ten men can walk abreast, although that I doubt. There is certainly a passage by which food or water can be taken up to the castle, while the carriers pass unscathed, protected by strong stone walls."
"It seems, then, that the first duty of besiegers would be to break that wall, and thus cut communication between the castle and the river."
"That is easy to suggest, but there would be difficulty in the doing. The walls are stout and will stand some battering; then the two great round towers of the castle are armed with catapults which, they say, will fling round stones even across the river itself. Besides this, there are engines along the wall for a similar purpose. The attacking party would have to remove solid cemented stone, while the defenders would merely have to sweep down along the hillside unprotected men who had little to cling to. I think it is no secret that the Archbishop had Thuron examined by spies with a view to its capture, but they strongly advised him to leave it alone; safe counsel, which his Lordship followed."
"When the assault takes place I hope we shall be there to see."
"Ah," said the ancient keeper, with a sigh of regret, "I fear I shall have no such pleasure, for I grow old and Arnold grows cautious. My only hope comes from Heinrich himself, for he is like enough to hurl some insult at the Archbishop that cannot well result in anything but the uprising of pikes; indeed, he once threatened to attack Cochem itself, and for a day or two we had merry preparation, but he thought better of it, and no more came of the threat, much to my regret, for I should have liked to see Heinrich crack his crown against Cochem. And now, my Lord, if you will come within, you will find a meal prepared, for which I doubt not you have sufficient appetite."
The young man and the old entered the castle together.