"Has the conductor of the women returned from the village?"
"Yes, my Lord, he is now in the castle, and not a moment too soon."
"He left the women there?"
"Yes, my Lord."
Heinrich turned to Rodolph and said in a low voice:
"I am willing to venture a detachment, to rescue the girl, if such is your wish."
"No, it is too late, and too hazardous. She will probably come to no harm where she is, and a detachment lost would weaken our force so that the castle might be taken in the first rush."
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.
The Emperor was awakened by the ringing martial sound of bugles, calling the various camps from slumber. The sun had not yet risen when he reached the platform that formed the roof of his chamber, and there he found John Surrey scanning the military preparations around and below him with undisguised satisfaction. Soldiers in the valley were already falling into line, and the clear stillness of the air made the sharp commands of the officers audible even at the distance where Rodolph and the archer stood. The tall powerful figure of the Black Count could be seen pacing up and down the broad promenade on the west front, which seemed hardly less remote than the valley itself, so lofty was the tower. The whole design of the castle lay beneath them like a raised map.
"I think he has been there all night," said the archer, nodding towards the Count. "I sat here late making arrows in the moonlight, and he was on the battlements when I went down. I was here at daybreak, and there he was still. What a lovely scene it is, my Lord, viewed from this perch," he cried, enthusiastically, waving his hand in a semi-circle about him.
"It is indeed," concurred the Emperor. "The placid river, the hill tops touched with the growing light, the green of the dense forest and the yellow of the ripening grain, with the dark cliffs of rock above the polished surface of the deep waters, are well worth getting up early to see."
The archer scratched his head, and an expression of perplexity clouded his brow.
"That was not quite what I meant, my Lord, for although there may be pleasure in viewing hills, fields and river, as my friend, Roger Kent, the poet, often pointed out to me, yet to my mind all such, which we have continually seen these few days back, are little to be compared to the blossoming of the tents on the plain, the stir of marching men eager for the coming to conclusions with their fellows, as men should, and the dealing and receiving of honest blows, doughtily given. Indeed, my Lord, I would rather see one good two-handed sword argument like that between your Lordship and his Darkness yesterday, than all the hills that were ever piled one above the other in Switzerland."
"That contest," said Rodolph, sternly, "is not to be spoken of. You heard me promise the Count that you would keep silence regarding it?"
"Oh, I did not take it to mean that we might not discuss it among ourselves; indeed, it was my intention on the first opportunity to inquire of his Blackness how he felt when he saw you approach like a windmill gone mad, with the sword in every place but where he expected it."
"You hold your life lightly to trust it on such a query. You have my strict command to say nothing to him on any subject whatever unless he speak first to you, and then answer briefly and with not too much curiosity."
"I shall cling close to your wish, my Lord, the more as there is little of intelligent talk to be got out of his Blackness at best. These warriors below are like to give us enough to think and speak about. They were early afoot, and got to their work like men who expected to take the castle before breakfast, sack it for mid-day eating, and be home to sup at Treves. I trust we shall keep them with us longer than they think."
The Emperor glanced at the heap of feathered arrows which lay against the parapet partially hidden by a mantle that had been thrown over them. "Has your arrow-maker proven a success then? You seem to be well supplied."
"He is so far a success as a German can be expected to succeed in a delicate art. The making of an arrow," continued the archer with great complacency, taking a specimen in his hand the better to illustrate his argument, "is not merely one art, but rather the conjunction of several. There is an art in the accurate shaving of the shank with a sharp flint stone; there is an art in the correct pointing of it, and the sloping of its shoulders so that it take not the wind more on the one side of it than on the other, thus deflecting it from the true course; there is an art in the feathering of it, which is in reality the winging of it; the cutting of the notch requires great care, for there it receives its impetus, and the making of the notch I hold to be like the training of a youth, his course in after life depends on it; then it should, when completed, balance on your forefinger, thus, with just so much length to the right and so much to the left. In the making of a perfect arrow there are thirty-four major points to be kept in mind, added to fifty-seven minor details which must in no instance be neglected, the which, beginning with the major points, are as follows, to wit, firstly——"
"We are early afoot, John Surrey, but still too late for the beginning of such a recital. During the siege it is most likely that we may have to spend some sleepless nights on watch, and during these vigils you will tell me all the conditions that go to the constructing of a perfect arrow, for in the still watches I can give that attention to particulars which the importance of the subject demands."
"The suggestion of your Lordship is good, and shows that you have some appreciation of the task's difficulties, the which I have never been able to beat into the head of the German hind the Count has bestowed upon me, although I find him useful in the splitting of wood and the rough shaping of the shaft; indeed he has advanced so surprisingly that he now sees that a piece of timber, bent and twisted like a hoop from a wine butt, is not suitable for the making of an arrow; that the presence of a straight grain is more desirable than many knots, and so I have a hope that in time he may gather much useful knowledge regarding the arrow-maker's craft. But I would on no account have your Lordship labour under the delusion that the mastering of the major and minor points will guarantee you success in the construction of a shaft. No; you must be born to it as well, because there is an intuition in the estimating of its value when completed; for many of our archers in England, unerring in aim, could not, did their life depend upon it, make for themselves a true flying arrow; indeed the making and the speeding have ever been regarded as separate and distinct accomplishments, expertness in the one being no assurance of expertness in the other; the which is but to be expected in a civilised country, for England must not be confounded with the more barbarous nationalities of the continent; and so in my land the arrow-makers are a guild in themselves, to which trade a man must be duly apprenticed, forswearing in his indentures all vices by which the steadiness of his nerves are affected, as the drinking of strong liquors or the amorous pursuit of——"
"Yes, yes," cried the Emperor, with scarcely concealed impatience, "all the virtues of earth are concentrated in your land and upon the inhabitants thereof."
"Nay, I made no such claim," continued the archer, calmly, "but I may state without suspicion of prejudice in favour of my countrymen that for honesty, bravery, skill, intelligence, modesty, integrity, patriotism, strength, nobility of character, firmness, justice, enlightenment, courage——"
"And a good appetite. John Surrey, have you breakfasted? Do you feed with the men of the castle, or alone?"
"The room below," said John, in no wise disconcerted by the sudden change of the subject, and ever ready to discourse on any topic presented to him, "being much too large for my sleeping accommodation, and one never knowing what may happen, especially after such a bout as you had with the master of the place—I beg your worship's pardon, I shall not more particularly refer to it—I might more properly have said, in the circumstances that have come to our private knowledge, I thought it wise to fill the remainder of the space with provisions from the outer courtyard, where they ran some danger of being spoiled by the first rain that falls; and I have also, with much effort and with the help of my arrow-making knave, trundled up these stairs, several of the smaller casks of wine from the same place, the hoisting of the larger butts presenting difficulties we could in no wise overcome. I have furthermore taken the precaution to provide myself with various trenchers, flagons, and the like, and a few stools, for as I have some skill in cookery, picked up in various countries, I thought I might have the privilege of preparing a meal for your Lordship when you were disinclined to venture down these long stairs. I foresaw that such a thing might come as a siege within a siege, and for all such emergencies it is well to be ready, even though they never come. A stout swordsman in a pinch might hold these stairs though a thousand tried to mount them, and when he is tired, a skilful bowman might take his place without danger to any but those below him."
"John, all the compliments you tender your countrymen do I multiply tenfold and bestow on thy resourceful head. Wisdom, thy name is Surrey. Is thy knave in thy room below?"
"Aye. He sleeps, my Lord, that being the greatest of his accomplishments."
"Then waken him; transport table and stools to this platform. Prepare a choice breakfast for four. We will invite the Count himself to breakfast with us, and the two ladies of the castle, if they will so honour us. Therefore let me boast of thy skill with the viands, John."
"I like not the coming of the Count," said the archer, sturdily. "I did not wish him to know that we were also provisioned for a siege."
"The knowledge should make him the more chary in attacking us, were such his intention. But he has no malignant designs. I trust Count Heinrich."
"You trusted him before," persisted the archer, with the dogged tenacity of his race, "and all that came of it—again craving your pardon—was stout blows and the flying of sparks."
"The Count differs from you, archer, in learning a lesson and profiting by it. No more pardons for such allusions will be granted; three within an hour have exhausted my stock. Attend you to the preparation of the meal; keep strict silence while serving it, and expect generous reward if it prove satisfactory. Leave all dealing with the Count to me, and if you cannot trust his Lordship, trust in Providence."
Saying this, Rodolph went down the stairs, while the archer, grumbling to himself, descended to his room and kicked the slumbering menial into a state of wakefulness that enabled him to appreciate the hard realities of life.
The Emperor, reaching the battlements, greeted the Lord of Thuron, who returned his salutation without lavish excess of cordiality.
"My Lord Count, in honour of the coming of the Archbishops, I am having prepared a breakfast on the top of the southern tower. The archer pretends to some knowledge of cooking, and I ask your Lordship to help me form an estimate of his abilities."
"I shall breakfast on these battlements. I wish to watch the movements of the enemy."
"There is no more admirable point of observation than the top of the tower, for from there you may view what is going on all round you, while from here you may see but towards the west. It is also my intention, with your permission, to invite the ladies, your wife and niece."
Count Heinrich made no reply, his restless eye scouring the plain below.
"I hold it well," continued Rodolph, suavely, "to begin our conflict with peace and harmony within, whatever may happen outside the walls. Have I your Lordship's consent?"
"My whole mind is in the coming fight," said the Black Count, still keeping his eyes on the valley, "and I have little skill in the nice customs and courtesies that perhaps you have been accustomed to. I am a soldier, and prefer to eat with soldiers."
"Am I to understand that you consider me no soldier?"
"You twist my words. I am an awkward man. I mean that I care not for the company of women."
"You owe some reparation to your niece for your harshness of yesterday. It is the least you can do to tell her that you are sorry. I have already said to her on your behalf that your mind was worried by the unexpected news of the junction of the two Archbishops, and although that is no excuse for a grown man, still I think I persuaded her it was. She will, no doubt, forgive you, little as you deserve it."
"Forgive me!" cried the Count, angrily.
"Aye. We all need forgiveness, and I judge you are not so free from blame that your statue will be erected in the valley as the Saint Heinrich of your day. Come, my Lord Count, be a bear to your enemies if you like, but a lamb to your friends, whose scarcity you but last night deplored!"
"The Countess Tekla has refused to see me; she barred my own door against me."
"And quite right too. She is a girl of spirit, and worthy of her warlike ancestors. Therefore, the more proud should you be that she consents to take you by the hand this morning."
"But does she so consent?" asked the Count, dubiously.
"Come to the tower and see. Large minds bear no malice. We will signal to you when the meal is ready."
Rodolph found there was more difficulty in persuading Heinrich's wife to be one at the table with her lord, than there was in winning Tekla's consent, but at last all obstacles were removed and he escorted the ladies up the narrow winding stairs. The Countess Tekla was in unexpectedly high spirits, and she admitted to him gaily that she had been at her wit's end to know what they should do for breakfast, as all attendants had gone, and her uncle had shown no anxiety regarding their substance.
It was Tekla's first visit to the tall tower and she looked upon the marvellous scene spread before her with keen and enthusiastic appreciation. The sun had risen and the morning was already warm, but the skilful Surrey had spread an awning from flag pole to parapet, which shielded the table from its rays. The elder lady seated herself on one of the stools, and paid no attention to the view, awaiting with evident apprehension the coming of her husband. Tekla passed from point to point in the circle of the parapet and exclaimed joyously as the beauties of the landscape unfolded themselves to her. The deep, sombre, densely wooded chasm of the brawling little river Thaurand, from which in three variants, the castle took the several names that designated it, she had never until this moment beheld; the more familiar valley of the Moselle revealed new aspects at this height, not noticeable from the lower level of the battlements. Rodolph accompanied her and pointed out this and that, having himself eyes for nothing but the delighted and delightful girl, and thus, telling the archer to summon the Count, he paid no attention to Surrey's method of doing so, which might not have met his approval. The Count was standing at the edge of the battlements gazing abstractedly down upon the village of Alken, his arms folded across his breast and his back towards the tower. The bowman deftly notched an arrow on the string and let fly with such precision that its feather must have brushed the Count's ear. The amazed and startled man automatically smote the air and his ear with his open hand as if a bee had stung him, and sprang several yards from where he had been standing, glaring angrily round, wondering whence the missile had so unexpectedly come.
"My Lord," said the archer, deferentially, leaning over the stone coping and motioning with his bow, "breakfast is ready."
For a moment the Count stood as one transfixed, then a reluctant smile made itself visible through his thick beard, and he strode along the promenade, disappearing down the steps.
A few moments later he was on the platform of the tower, visibly ill at ease. His eyes were on his niece, seemingly in doubt regarding the nature of her reception of him. The girl on hearing his steps had turned away from the parapet, and now stood somewhat rigidly with heightened colour, waiting for him to approach her.
"Tekla," he began, but she quietly interrupted him, saying:
"When you have greeted my aunt, I shall be glad to receive your salutations."
Heinrich was taken aback at this. He had not thought of looking at his wife, but now he glanced at her shrinking form cowering on the stool. He took a step forward, and placed his hand roughly on her shoulder.
"Wife—" he said, and paused, not knowing what to add, until sudden inspiration seemed to come to him, and he cried, masterfully: "We are surrounded by enemies, but we will beat them off, damn them!"
"Yes, my Lord," whispered his spouse, meekly, trembling under his heavy hand. Tekla laughed merrily, and sprang forward to him, flinging her arms about him, to his great embarrassment.
"You great Swartzwald bear!" she cried, "of course you will beat them. I am sure no one can stand up against you."
"Tekla," he protested, with visible discomposure, "that is the Archbishops' tent on the heights. They can see us."
"Let them!" cried the girl, waving her hands towards the large tent. "This is my uncle, Heinrich of Thuron, surnamed the Black, my Lords and Archbishops, and we hurl defiance at you, for he fears you neither separately nor together."
The Black Count smiled grimly, and very soon they were all seated at breakfast, Rodolph and Tekla bearing the burden of the conversation, the Count and his wife adding but little to it. It was easily seen that Heinrich's mind was not on his meal, but on what was passing in the valley, where his uneasy eye wandered ever and anon.
As the breakfast ended and the Countess Tekla was congratulating the archer on its excellence, there came up to them a fan-fare of trumpets, and all saw, issuing from the forest to the south, an impressive cavalcade, headed by Count Bertrich, at whose side rode another, seemingly his equal in rank, and quite his superior in equipment, whom Rodolph at once recognised by his blazonry as the representative of the Archbishop of Cologne. Behind these two rode a group of perhaps threescore men, all gaily bedecked and fully armed. Five or six horse-lengths in front of this notable procession came four heralds holding long trumpets from which depended gay silken banners in gorgeous colours, setting forth, two the arms of Treves, and two the arms of Cologne. As the cavalcade advanced the trumpeters raised bugles to lips and gave forth the musical notes that had first attracted the attention of those on the tower. The Count sprang instantly to his feet, Rodolph also rising.
"A demand of surrender," said the latter, "about to be set forward with due ceremony and circumstance. I must say the Archbishops acquit themselves creditably."
"Will you attend me while I make reply?" asked the Count, of Rodolph.
"Surely," returned the other.
"I should be glad of your counsel," continued Heinrich, "and of some slight hint regarding the choice of words to be used. We have usually fallen to without so much preliminary flourishing at Thuron, and I am not versed in the etiquette of the occasion."
"Answer slowly," said the Emperor, "taking ample time to consider each question, and if there is any hint to give, I will whisper it to you."
The two men departed down the stairs, leaving at least one interested spectator of the conference about to take place. The elder woman remained where she was, with her hands folded on her lap; the Countess Tekla leaning against the parapet, saw her uncle and Rodolph, attended by Captain Steinmetz and a guard of lancers, mount the platform above the gates, while the imposing troop of horsemen came to halt amidst another blast from the trumpets.
In loud and sonorous voice Count Bertrich spoke, his words plainly heard by all on the castle walls and even far down the valley.
"Heinrich of Thuron, sometime Count Palatine, now deposed by lawful authority duly proclaimed, you are summoned to surrender the Castle of Thuron at present held by you, to the custody of his High Puissant and Reverend Lordship, Konrad von Hochstaden, Archbishop of Cologne, and his ally, the High Puissant and Reverend Lordship, Arnold von Isenberg, Archbishop of Treves, and in event of such summons not being instantly obeyed, your life is declared forfeit and all within your walls outlaws."
"Ask him," whispered the Emperor, "on what authority this summons is delivered."
"On whose authority do you act?" cried Heinrich, in a voice no less powerful than that of Bertrich.
"His Lordship the Archbishop of Treves is your over-lord, and as such is entitled to make the demand I have set forth."
"Then ask him what the devil Cologne is doing in this business," said Rodolph.
"Why then is the Archbishop of Cologne put first in your proclamation, and by what right does he claim jurisdiction over me?" cried Heinrich.
The two emissaries of Treves and Cologne consulted for a few moments together, and it was quite evident that Count Bertrich had little liking for the turn the colloquy had taken, his haughty nature scorning lengthened talk with a man whom he considered an inferior, and in any case the sword was with him a readier weapon than the tongue, as indeed it was with Heinrich himself, but the envoy of Cologne seemed in a measure impressed by the replies of the Lord of Thuron, and appeared to be protesting against what the other was proposing, a backward wave of the hand seeming to betoken a desire to break off negotiations and return whence they came. At last Bertrich again spoke.
"Their High and Mighty Lordships of Cologne and Treves are, as I have said, allies in this quarrel, and they demand your instant answer."
"Say it is impossible for you to recognise Cologne in a matter that concerns you and Treves only. Add that if Treves alone press the demand you will make suitable reply," dictated the Emperor.
"A noble answers only to his own over-lord," shouted Heinrich. "If the Archbishop of Treves make a demand, he shall have my reply, but I stand no question from his Lordship of Cologne, nor can he justly prefer the right to question me except through my over-lord."
"Well spoken," said the Emperor, emphatically, "and good feudal law."
Again a conference ensued between the two envoys, Bertrich first protesting against the decision of his colleague, then reluctantly accepting it. In his anger shearing Arnold of some of his adjectives, Bertrich cried:
"In the name of the Archbishop of Treves, my master and yours, I demand that you surrender to him the castle of Thuron."
"Say that you appeal for justice to the over-lord of all, the Emperor, and offer to surrender your castle when you see his signature to a document demanding it," whispered Rodolph.
Heinrich turned to him in astonishment.
"I fear the Emperor less than I do Treves, and have no intention of surrendering to either. He may have the signature of the Emperor, and then I should be in serious jeopardy."
"He has it not, nor can he obtain it. The Emperor is in Palestine."
The humour of the situation began to appeal to Heinrich. For the first time in his turbulent life he was posing as a respecter of the law and a stickler for forms. The envoy of Cologne sat on his horse awaiting the answer with an expression on his face which showed that he believed the Black Count to be more in the right than he had hitherto suspected, while Bertrich, fuming with impatience and anger, savagely dug spurs into his horse and then reined in the astonished animal with rude brutality when it curvetted under the sting of the steel.
"In a case so serious," cried Heinrich, sternly, "I appeal to the over-lord of the Archbishop, who is my over-lord as well, his Majesty the Emperor. That no injustice may be done, I will deliver up my castle to the Emperor, or, in his absence, to any delegate whom he empowers, the same to show me his credentials signed by his Majesty."
"The Emperor," roared Bertrich, "has already delegated his authority to the Archbishop, who now acts thus under the power granted him. This juggling with words will not serve you. I demand——"
But here he was interrupted by the envoy of Cologne, who seemed surprised when it was alleged that the Emperor had delegated his authority to the Archbishop of Treves. He laid his hand on Bertrich's arm and spoke earnestly with him.
"What comes next?" said Heinrich.
"Oh, the rest is most simple," replied Rodolph. "Bertrich has lied, for there has been no delegating of Imperial authority to his master. Worse than that, he has sown seeds of dissension between the Archbishop of Treves and the haughty Lord of Cologne, and Bertrich has not yet the sense to see it. Tell him you did not know of this bestowal of authority. Ask for the witnesses, if the delegation was verbal, or for a document if he has a written commission from his Majesty."
"But he may have it. How can you say whether he has or no?"
"I tell you the man has lied. Would the Emperor, think you, dare to give to one what he did not give to another? See the surprise on Cologne's face at such an absurd statement. Have no hesitation. He has few qualifications fitting him to be a diplomatist."
"I was not aware," cried Heinrich, stoutly, "that the Emperor had so favoured Treves at the expense of his brother of Cologne. If such is indeed the case, then we need parley no longer. On proof to me of this bestowal of Imperial power on his Lordship of Treves, I will at once surrender my castle to him, leaving the Emperor to adjudicate between us."
Then did the choleric Count indeed justify Rodolph's prophecy. Shaking his sword over his head, Bertrich shouted:
"Surrender the castle, you robber dog, or I will knock it down about your ears, black son of a rooting boar."
The hand of Count Heinrich sprang to the hilt of his blade, and he would have answered angrily in kind, but the Emperor, touching him gently, said:
"Softly, softly. Call our astonished friend of Cologne to witness that you have done everything you could in the way of peace, and the upholding of the feudal law."
Heinrich drew a deep quivering breath into his huge chest, and controlled himself with an effort that made his stalwart frame tremble.
"I ask your colleague," he said, at last, in a voice that was somewhat uncertain, "to bear witness that I have been treated with grave disrespect while endeavouring to yield deference to all above me; the Emperor no less than the Archbishops. I am anxious to abide by the feudal law, and while protecting my own rights, infringe not on the rights of others."
Bertrich gave vent to a cry of disgusted impatience, spurring his horse onward and then round until his back was to the castle. The envoy of Cologne bowed low to Count Heinrich, although he said nothing, which bow the Black Count handsomely returned. With a blast from the four trumpets, the glittering cavalcade turned, and at slow, dignified pace, as befitted an embassy, left the castle.
Rodolph and Heinrich watched the departure in silence, the latter still struggling with his suppressed emotions, more than half feeling that he had not acquitted himself as a man should, by neglecting to fling back in the teeth of his enemy the contemptuous phrases he had received.
"My Lord Count," said Rodolph, "you have conducted the negotiations most admirably, and I desire to offer you my congratulations."
"I would rather have cut his beggarly throat than bestowed smooth words upon him," muttered the Count.
"There is much that is commendable and even alluring in the project, and doubtless before the sun has set, Bertrich will wish you had, for I do not envy him the meeting with his master. Never was the Archbishop so rascally served. One of two things will happen now, thanks to your diplomacy. The Archbishop of Treves, proud as he is, will be compelled to humble himself before his haughty ally, and declare that Bertrich failed to speak the truth, or the Archbishop of Cologne will gather his men about him and depart down the Rhine to the less picturesque precincts of his famous city. Even if a peace be patched up between them, there will be deep distrust in von Hochstaden's mind against the crafty Isenberg, for, knowing the wily Arnold as he does, Cologne will never believe but his envoy blurted out the truth, in spite of his master's assurance that it is a lie. Believe me, you might have rained blows on Bertrich's back and he would consider the chastisement as nothing compared with the humiliating dilemma in which your words and calmness have placed him."
"The words were not mine, but yours," said Heinrich, much mollified.
"I will not have you say so. I did indeed give you some hints but you clothed them in your own language, and in every case added force to them. It is not flattering to say I did not expect such from you, but I have to admit the truth. Words, my Lord Count, are often more deadly than swords. The man of words who can keep his temper will ever rule the man of the sword. As you acted this morning you might guide an empire."
"And as I acted yesterday, I could not rule my own household," said Heinrich, dryly.
"So far as I am concerned, my Lord, yesterday is dead. I do not remember what happened. I deal only with to-day."
"Lord Rodolph," cried Heinrich, with sudden exultation, "we shall beat these villains yet."
"So the Countess Tekla has prophesied, and so I devoutly believe. In any case this conference has postponed attack for a few days. It will take some time for the Archbishops to adjust their differences, and who knows what may happen later?"
Whether the Countess should prove a true prophet or no remained to be seen, but Rodolph was quickly shown to be a false one.
It is doubtful if a nation or a military commander is strengthened by securing an ally, even though that ally be powerful. One determined man will wage war with more success than will a committee that commands a larger force. A general with an ally must be ever thinking of what that ally will do, or will not do. He is hampered at every turn, and must be careful not to take too much glory to himself or show himself a better warrior than the other.
As those within Castle Thuron afterwards discovered, what happened on the morning of the first attack was this. Count Bertrich in his original visit to Thuron and his ignominious departure therefrom, saw with quick military eye, which he allowed no personal feeling to obscure, that the gate, narrow though it was, offered the best means of capturing the stronghold. Once that was battered down, there would be a hot fight in the outer courtyard, then, resistance being overpowered by numbers, the castle belonged to the assaulters. His plan was approved by the Archbishop, who, however, was annoyed to find that his colleague of Cologne desired that Heinrich should be summoned in due form to surrender peacefully before hostilities commenced. To this proposal von Isenberg had to accede, and he did so the more readily as Bertrich assured him that the hot-tempered Count would make some insulting reply which would offend the northern Archbishop when it was reported to him. Although the cautious Arnold was usually most scrupulous in his observance of forms and ceremonies, he had been so angered in this instance, first by the successful flight of his ward, from under his very roof, and second by the contemptuous defiance of himself by his vassal, Heinrich of Thuron, whom he had always hated, that he was now eager to recover lost prestige, and to accomplish by instant overwhelming force the downfall of the Black Count. He was the less particular in this matter as it never occurred to him that his action might possibly come up for review and judgment by his own nominal over-lord the Emperor, for no Emperor in recent ages had commanded the slightest respect. When it is remembered that twenty-two years before the election of Rodolph, the Archbishop of Treves had captured the capital itself, Frankfort being the place where the election of Emperor was held, and, keeping the Archbishops of Cologne and Mayence outside the gates, proceeded himself to elect an Emperor, while the shut-out electors met under the walls and solemnly elected another, some idea may be formed of the slight influence an Emperor had over his proud and powerful vassals.
It was arranged that the force on the heights to the south of Thuron, concealed in the forest, should be augmented by others from the plain by the river, comprising a company of crossbow men and a troop of lancers, the first to harass the garrison while the gate was being battered down, the second to storm the castle when a breach was made for them. The attack was to be delivered when the embassy had retired after receiving the contumacious reply of Count Heinrich. The assault was to have been led by Count Bertrich and the envoy of Cologne, but when the two had reached the shelter of the forest, Bertrich's colleague refused to take part in the fray, until he had first acquainted his master with the purport of the conference at the gate of Thuron. By this time Count Bertrich felt that he had come badly off in his diplomatic bout with the Black Count, and the knowledge maddened him. He therefore told his ally that Cologne might do as he pleased, but Treves would attack immediately, and the two Archbishops might settle details after the castle was captured. Bertrich believed that his success in taking the fortress would more than blot out any resentment his master might feel for his failure in diplomacy, as he well knew the state of Arnold von Isenberg's mind regarding Count Heinrich; furthermore, he had not the slightest doubt that with the forces at his command, he would speedily be in possession of Castle Thuron.
So the envoy of the Archbishop of Cologne, attended by his guard, passed through the forest into the ravine of the Thaurand, and thus up to the heights of the Bieldenburg, where the tent of his master was situated.
Rodolph and Heinrich were still standing on the platform above the gate when they saw emerging from the forest a monster closely resembling the dragons which were supposed to infest the Rhine, but from whose baleful presence the Moselle had hitherto been free. Rodolph gazed at its coming with astonishment in his eyes, and the swarthy countenance of the Count seemed almost to blanch, for although that courageous man was not afraid of the Archbishops and their armies, he was in deadly fear of dragons. If their Lordships had invoked the aid of such, then was Thuron indeed doomed. But as the apparition came nearer it proved to be a huge oaken tree, stripped of its bark, advancing, butt foremost, towards the castle. On the underpart all the limbs had been lopped off, but at each side of it the branches remained, stripped of leaves and twigs, sprouting out like the fins of a gigantic fish to right and left. The great tree was borne aloft on the shoulders of more than twoscore men, who were distributed equally on either side of it, and so it advanced slowly, with its white body and gaunt branches, like an enormous centipede. It was evidently the intention of the carriers to throw the tree from their shoulders at the gate, and then taking it by the branches, half a dozen or more at each limb, swing it back and forth, using it as a battering ram to force in the gate. The men carrying this monster oak had still breath enough left to cheer as they advanced, and Count Bertrich, in the full armour he had worn at the conference, rode by the side of this strange procession encouraging the bearers by word and motion of the sword. From out of the wood, like the first flakes of a snow storm driven by a gale, came bolts from crossbows, the pioneer shafts falling far short of the walls, but gradually coming nearer as the bowmen the better estimated the distance. Bertrich waved his sword at those in the forest, indicating that a closer approach would please him better, and by and by the bolts began to strike against the walls and even fall into the courtyard.
The Black Count, as soon as he was assured that he had to contend with the things of this world only, took on at once the mien of a true commander. He ordered up his catapult men, and two stalwart fellows were speedily at the levers of the engine, working back the flexible arms of timber which acted as motive power for the huge balls of stone. As the bolts from the crossbows began to fall here and there on the walls, Heinrich turned to Rodolph and curtly ordered him to seek another portion of the castle.
"I am very well where I am," answered the Emperor. "I wish to see the result of the attack, and am also anxious to watch your practice with this engine."
The Black Count bent a look upon the younger man that was not pleasant to behold, but before he could speak again the other added hastily:
"I am wrong, my Lord; I go at once."
"When you have armour on you, I shall be glad of your company," said Heinrich, in a tone less truculent than his glance.
The Emperor, fearing to miss the issue of the fight, did not betake himself to the armoury to fit a suit to his body, but mounted to his eyrie on the south tower, where he found the archer watching the approach of the enemy with great interest. The catapult was at work, but doing no execution. It seemed impossible to predict where one of the huge pieces of rock it flung would alight; some went crashing into the forest and perhaps had an influence in frightening the crossbow men, although there was little indication of any such result, for the bolts came as thickly as ever, and were now so truly aimed that they harassed the defenders on the walls. The majority of the granite balls, however, fell to the right of the approaching party and bounded harmlessly down the hill. Meanwhile the men at the levers worked like demons after each shot, and so hard was their labour that others had to take their places after a few rounds. There was no question that if they once succeeded in getting the range, and dropped a few of the boulders on the procession they would speedily demoralise it, but those carrying the tree not only moved forward, but advanced in a zig-zag fashion, that made marksmanship difficult, even had the cumbrous instrument lent itself to accurate aiming, which it did not. The Emperor saw at once that Heinrich should have had several catapults over the gate instead of one, for the interval after each discharge was quite long enough for great advances to be made between shots. Also Heinrich was weak in having no men of the crossbow. This siege had come upon him so suddenly that there had been scant time for the training or arming of crossbow men, and in his marauding expeditions he had never needed them. It was also evident that his men were unaccustomed to catapult work. The castle had never before been attacked, and although the engines had long been part of the equipment of the walls, yet had there been no occasion heretofore to use them. So the Count fought at a grievous disadvantage, and was well aware of the fact, for he worked like a madman, sometimes even handling the levers himself, when a man was injured by the flying bolts, or showed signs of exhaustion. The men themselves, although they worked doggedly under the eyes of the Count, gave no answering cheer when the besiegers shouted their exultation at the erratic work of the stone-heaver, and the crossbow brigade now issued from the forest, and boldly planted the stakes on which their weapons rested in the open, concentrating their bolts on those who manned the only engine of defence. One valiant crossbow man, panting for distinction under the eye of a leader who was quick to recognise bravery, ran with weapon and stake far ahead of those coming with the battering ram, planted his stake not more than a score of lance lengths from the gate, and began to prepare for a trial at close quarters. This so enraged the Black Count that he seized one of the great spheres of stone, and not waiting to place it in the slow engine, hoisted it up and poising it for one brief second above his head, as he stood on the edge of the parapet, flung it with such accuracy and such tremendous force, that it rolled at great speed towards the man, who turned and fled in terror, leaving his weapon and stake behind him, amidst the jeers of his own comrades, and the first cheer that went up from the garrison.
"Wait till we get the villains under us at the gate, and we will need no catapult," roared Heinrich, in a voice of thunder; and indeed, here was a danger that made the attacking party pause for a moment until urged on again by their intrepid leader.
When Rodolph arrived at the top of the tower, the archer looked up at him with an expression of inquiry, and seemed not too well pleased with his coming. On the ledge of the stone coping, the Emperor saw arrayed with nice precision a dozen arrows, all an equal distance apart. The bow was in Surrey's hand, strung and ready for action, but his jaw dropped on seeing the Emperor, who gazed at the mathematically arranged display on the coping with a smile curling his lip.
"John Surrey," he said, "I trust it was not your intention to molest the Archbishop's troops without command of your superior officer."
"Well, my Lord," replied the archer, in a hesitating tone most unusual with him, "it is difficult to see so pretty a fight in progress and not do something to the furthering of it. The Archbishop has a hundred bowmen, such as they are, while his Darkness does not appear to have one, if I am not to be allowed to draw string."
"But we have no quarrel with the Archbishop, John."
"Indeed, my Lord," answered Surrey, bitterly, "you forgot that, when you ordered me to bend bow against his two men-at-arms on the hill yonder."
"True, true, so I did, and right well you acquitted yourself. Can you do the same from this height?"
"Can I? My fingers were just getting beyond my control when you came up. No man could wish better shooting than is here to his hand."
"We will wait a little and see if they cannot do better with the catapult. They need some practice, and will never have a finer opportunity."
"Look you, my Lord, at the crossbow shooting. Did you ever see the air so thick and so little damage done? 'Tis a most contemptible instrument, as I have before averred to you, and now you can see its uselessness for yourself. A body of English archers would have had the castle taken and the Count well hanged long ere this."
"I hardly see how archers alone could scale the battlements, however expert they might be; but perhaps they project each other over stone walls attached to their arrows; they do such wonderful things in England."
"I make bold to inform you, my Lord, that——"
"I do not doubt it. Let us watch the fight."
When the cheer went up that greeted the hurling of the stone, and the very precipitate flight of the jeopardised crossbow man, the Emperor turned to the offended and silent archer and said:
"Now is your time, John. Show them what true marksmanship is, and remember the eyes of Germany are on you, or presently will be."
The archer needed no second bidding. Rubbing his right foot on the roof to make certain against slipping, then standing squarely with feet the correct distance apart, in a position where the arrows laid out were ready to his hand, Surrey, with tightly set lips and wrinkled brow, launched shaft after shaft in marvellously quick succession. The first man at the butt end of the log on the right hand side fell, pierced in the neck downwards through the body. The second man on the same side dropped, then the third, then the fourth, then the fifth. The sixth man jumped, with a yell of terror, to one side, leaving his place, while the remainder not understanding what had happened, straining to uphold their increased burden, at last gave way, and the falling log pinned many of them to the ground.
The archer, the frenzy of killing in his eye, a veritable angel of death on the tower, shouted sharply to the Emperor, as if Rodolph were his menial, "Scatter more arrows on the coping," and his Majesty promptly obeyed.
Into the midst of the now panic-stricken crowd, that a moment before had so proudly borne aloft the oaken tree, Surrey sped his winged messengers, each bringing forth a yell of pain or an expiring groan. Count Bertrich, lashing about him with the flat of his sword, tried to stay the flight of his men, but without avail.
"Roll the log from your comrades, you cowardly dogs, and then fly if you must!" he shouted, but his commands were unheeded.
"Shoot none of those pinned to the ground," cried the Emperor.
"Have you ever seen me shoot a helpless man or horse—except Bertrich's?" cried the insulted archer. "More arrows and less talk."
"Discipline and respect have both gone for the time being," said Rodolph to himself, with a chuckle, as he placed arrows from the pile along the coping. The thought of Bertrich's horse turned the archer's attention to that thoroughly enraged commander. One arrow glanced from Bertrich's shoulder, and another struck him squarely on the side of the head, shattering itself, but dealing a staggering blow to the Count. Bertrich shook aloft his sword defiantly at the man on the tower, and received a third arrow in his sleeve which came perilously near to be the undoing of him.
"Shoot me that archer on the tower!" he said, to his crossbow men. "Let one bolt at least among the hundreds you have wasted account for itself."
But the order was more easy to give than to obey. The crossbow is not suited to upward firing, for if a man uses a stake, he must lie down to shoot at a height. Surrey, however, turned with an exultant laugh towards those bowmen who had the courage to try conclusions with him, and pinned three to the earth while the others took to flight leaving their cumbrous weapons behind them. A moment later the surviving crossbow men were safe in the forest.
Count Bertrich, to whom the archer again turned his attention, sprang from his horse, paying little heed to the shafts, and, going to the tail end of the log, exerted his great strength, pulling it partly from those nearest him, who, getting up, sorely bruised as they were, lent a hand and rolled the log from the others.
"Stop!" cried the Emperor to the archer, in a tone of voice which left no doubt that authority had returned to its usual habitation.
Surrey paused, and turned a sweat-bedewed face towards his master.
"I am not hurting him," he protested, dolefully, "and it is excellent practice."
"You need no practice, John; and the day is triumphantly yours and yours alone. Never will I believe there lives on this earth a greater bowman, be he English or the devil himself."
"Ah," cried the archer, drawing a long breath of deep satisfaction, "if you could but see Roger Kent. God grant that he is not with yonder crowd on the plain, or some of us will never set foot out of Thuron."
Black Heinrich stood gazing up at the round tower, an unkempt figure, after his great but fruitless exertions. Rodolph waved his hand to him, and leaning over the coping cried:
"How like you our catapult, my Lord?"
"In truth it is amazing. Guard the archer well, and see he does not expose himself. I will burn this clumsy implement and cook our dinners at the fire. 'Tis all it's fit for."
"Your men are not in practice. Give it another chance."
When the log was rolling away, many who were under it lay prone on the ground, crushed to death. Count Bertrich approached the gate on foot, his hand upraised, unheeding the catapult which Heinrich kept his men steadily working, saying that if Bertrich did not give in, he would not cease battle, being less chivalrous toward a brave enemy than Rodolph had proved himself.
"My Lord of Thuron," cried Bertrich, when within hearing distance, "although there is little chance of harm, we know not what accidents may arise, so I beg you to stop your practice, as some of my poor fellows, sorely hurt already, may suffer if I do not formally proclaim our defeat to you. I have no flag of truce with me, and, therefore, ask you to overlook informality, and give me the opportunity of conveying away my dead and wounded."
"Your request is granted, my Lord," said Heinrich, telling his men to cease their efforts, "and I hope that to-day's check will not deprive us of the happiness of meeting you again."
"From what I have seen of your own military skill, my Lord, we might in perfect safety camp within lance length of your gate."
With which interchange of civilities Bertrich strode back to attend to the removal of those who were injured, while the Black Count, moodily cursing his catapult, said to his men:
"Follow me to the north tower. We shall see if the engine there is no surer than this one."
As the Count strode away Rodolph joined him, and Heinrich explained half apologetically that he was about to test all the other catapults in the castle.
"I am going to heave a stone into the Archbishop's big tent, if you have no objection," said the Count.
"None in the least," cried the Emperor, "providing the projecting machine is equally willing."
A round stone was put in place, when the levers had done their duty, and Heinrich himself discharged the shot. The formidable projectile described an arc over the profound valley of the Thaurand, struck fairly the western end of the huge tent, and disappeared within it, leaving a ragged hole to attest its passage.
"Ah, that is better," said the Black Count in a tone of exultant satisfaction.