“Merciful Heaven!” he cried, “the town guard will soon be here, and I shall be punished for permitting this affray in my house. Hagenbach, too, will not fail to remember what has happened here to his officer.”
“Have you no friend?” asked Hassfurter; “I mean one on whom you can rely, who would take care of this fellow for you? As for the Burgundians, gold will keep them silent concerning the affair. They are not altogether guiltless themselves, and would not escape punishment if the facts were known.”
“I have indeed such a friend,” replied the innkeeper in a tone of relief, “Hans Irmy, a magistrate of our town. Our places adjoin, and we can easily carry the man thither.”
The peasants lent willing aid, and Irmy gladly offered the use of a secret room in his house to the wounded officer. There he lay unconscious for three days; but nature finally triumphed, and his progress toward recovery was rapid, thanks to Walter, Irmy’s son, who tended him with the greatest care.
“It does not please me,” said the father one day, “that you should sit the whole day at that foreign soldier’s bedside; such service could be performed quite as well by the servants.”
“But, father,” cried Walter, “he is such a fine fellow and can tell such splendid tales of war and the battles he has fought in. It almost makes one long to go away with him.”
“Has the stranger suggested that to you?” asked Irmy.
“No, not he,” was the answer; “but Iseli, your friend, is always saying that I might make a great success if I were to go out into the world; he seems to think there is something unusual about me.”
“Iseli is a fool,” growled the old man, “to put such ideas into your head. Stay in your own country and earn an honest living, that is my advice; and if you must be a soldier, no doubt there will be opportunities enough for you to begin your career in the service of the Fatherland, instead of entering that of any foreign prince.”
Crestfallen, Walter slipped away, but half an hour later he was sitting beside the officer again, listening with eager interest to his tales. Heini Süssbacher was often in the sick chamber also, and the two boys soon determined to follow their hero out into the world to seek their fortunes. Not long after this the Captain took leave of the Councillor, with kindly thanks for his hospitality, and set out for Treves to join the Governor, who had already reached Strassburg with the Emperor. He was a considerable distance away from Basle, when suddenly the lads sprang out from the roadside and besought him to take them with him to the ducal court that they too might become soldiers like himself, promising to do their best. Heinrich Vögeli reproved them sharply; but what was he to do with them, as they absolutely refused to return home even if he sent them away? There seemed no alternative except to take them along. At the next town, therefore, he hired two horses for them, that the journey to Strassburg might be more quickly accomplished, and also despatched a messenger secretly to old Irmy to reassure him as to his son’s whereabouts.
But old Irmy was not to be appeased so easily; he stormed and grumbled continually about the runaways. “And Heini, too,” he always ended with, “that rascal! as if his father had not already injured me enough in my business by selling his goods at a loss, that he must now lead my son astray, the only child I have in the world, and induce him to become a vagabond and a traitor like that Vögeli!”
But as week after week passed and the boys did not return, the Councillor at length determined, come what might, to go in search of them; he set out also for Treves, where in a few days the Emperor Frederick, with his son Maximilian and Duke Charles the Bold, was to make his formal entry.
Irmy’s journey was not accomplished so easily as he had expected; he was frequently obliged to wait, as all the horses obtainable were needed for the use of those travellers who, as members of the Emperor’s household or as envoys or functionaries of the Empire, could claim first consideration. Nor was this a small matter, for fully seven hundred deputies from the various cities assembled at Treves to greet the Emperor, all of noble birth, not to mention the curiosity-seekers.
It was late in the evening of the twenty-ninth of September when the Councillor at last entered Treves. The Emperor had already arrived that morning, and the city was so crowded with strangers that only by paying a large sum was Irmy able to secure even the poorest kind of a lodging. Charles the Bold was expected to appear the following morning, when the Emperor was to ride out to meet him, and the people were eagerly looking forward to the coming spectacle.
“It is there I shall be most likely to find the lad,” thought Irmy. “I will rise early and go out to meet the procession; Vögeli will be with the Duke, and wherever he is, Walter will surely not be far away.”
He was the first to awake in the house the next morning; quickly rising, he peered out through the round leaded window panes, as well as their dinginess would permit, at the gray sky above. “Everything is dirty here,” he growled—“the bed and the furniture as well as the room; and these panes might be any color.”
He flung open the sash in a rage and thrust his head out into the cool morning air. Nothing was stirring as yet in the street below, and he might still have enjoyed several hours of slumber without losing anything; but anxiety for his only child had disturbed his natural serenity of mind and made him restless.
“Now I can make my way through the town easily,” he thought. He dressed himself and went carefully down the dark stairs of his lodging house, the garret of which had never before been honored by a guest of Irmy’s wealth and standing. When he reached the sidewalk he looked up once more at the dark gray sky, then took his way through the deserted streets that reëchoed to the sound of his footsteps. No one was in sight but a watchman pacing his rounds.
“It is an old city,” said Irmy to himself, “and not so badly built, but it cannot compare with Basle.”
At the gate of the town, a small fee procured him ready egress, and the guards showed him the way to the camp that had been pitched for the Duke and his followers. Slowly he wandered about among the tents, sure that here he must find his son, since Hagenbach and his officers had already taken possession of the quarters assigned to them as part of the Duke’s retinue. As yet, however, all was still both without and within the tents, and the Councillor turned his steps toward a sutler’s wine shop, on the wooden front of which was a large shield bearing in Italian the name and calling of its occupant. A servant with black hair and unmistakably Italian cast of countenance was brushing away the dried leaves from before the door and strewing the path with white sand. Addressing him in his own tongue, Irmy asked for a breakfast of meat, bread, and porridge, with a draught of good wine.
“I ought not to give you anything,” replied the Italian, “since you are not of the Burgundian soldiery nor yet in the Duke’s service, it is plain. But since none of the soldiers are stirring, belike you may enter.”
This the Councillor gladly did, and to pass the time chatted with the friendly waiter, who had been much in Venice and Genoa in former days, and knew of many of the great mercantile houses with which he was connected. He asked him about two lads who must have arrived in camp with one of the Burgundian captains, but the Lombard could tell him nothing of them.
“We came hither with some Italian cuirassiers, levied for Duke Charles in Italy,” he replied, “and know nothing of his other followers. But if you will station yourself by the roadside against yonder tree, no part of the procession can escape you.”
By this time signs of life began to appear about the camp. Tents were thrown open here and there, and the soldiers could be seen busied with the various offices of their toilet. But none had any news to give of Vögeli and the two boys. One man remembered that the Captain had been sent to Basle, but further than that he knew nothing.
Soon a trumpeter emerged from one of the tents and sounded a call, whereat the whole camp instantly sprang to life. All was bustle and activity as each man bestirred himself to make ready for the day—a more difficult task than usual, for on this occasion everything must appear at its very best. The cuirassiers had already burnished their arms and mail to spotless brilliancy on the previous day, but there still remained more to be done than could well be accomplished in the short time left them. Swiftly they rubbed down the horses, standing in long rows tethered to a rope. The horses of the Italians were magnificent creatures, and each was the individual property of its rider. These cuirassiers were for the most part men of quality; each was entitled to a mounted esquire and one foot-soldier as his escort. None but the rich were permitted to join their ranks; and many nobles, survivors of the old knighthood, were to be found serving in this troop of mercenaries, whose pay was at least thrice that of a lieutenant in these days.
At length all was finished, and it was an imposing array that rode past the wine shop toward the high-road along which the train of the Emperor was already seen approaching. A band of drummers and musicians led the way, and next, preceded by waving banners and pennons, came Frederick himself, followed by a long and brilliant cavalcade, among which Irmy looked in vain for Vögeli. Hagenbach was there indeed; but even had the merchant forced himself to ask for the Captain he would have met with no reply from the haughty Governor, who, riding to-day in attendance on the Emperor, looked even more arrogant and pompous than usual. The Burgundian cuirassiers brought up the rear of the procession, during the passage of which Irmy maintained the position pointed out to him, beside the tree, which afforded him an excellent view.
By this time he was no longer the only spectator. Crowds had been pouring out from the gates of the city and assembling from all the surrounding villages, until the whole road on both sides was lined with sightseers. For hours they waited cheerfully while the two princes, who had met after half an hour’s ride, were engaged in a friendly dispute over a question of honor. Frederick wished the Duke to ride at his side, while Charles insisted that he as the lesser potentate should modestly follow. At length the heavens, which had lowered for a full hour upon this ceremonious pretence, opened their flood gates and deluged Duke and Emperor, noble and henchman alike; for Nature at such times is no respecter of persons. Especially inopportune was it now, however, for all were in their most sumptuous array; and many looked upon it as an evil omen.
But sunshine followed close upon the rain, and fair weather smiled upon their entry into the city, their approach to which was greeted by a clashing peal of bells from every church tower, and heralded by the blare of trumpets and the rattle of drums long before anything could be seen of the procession. On it came at last,—first, the musicians, then a long train of archers brought by the Duke of Somerset from England, with whose royal house Charles the Bold was connected through his wife. These were followed by a group of heralds. And now, amid the deafening shouts and acclamations of the multitude, appeared the Emperor and the Duke, riding side by side.
Old Irmy’s somewhat elevated position enabled him to look over the heads of the intervening spectators. That rider glittering with gold and jewels, his embroidered doublet thickly set with pearls, sitting his horse so stooped and carelessly—the man with the listless, indifferent expression and heavy, protruding under lip—could he be the ruler of the Holy Roman Empire? Alas! what could be hoped for from one whose utter lack of strength and firmness was so evident? It was far pleasanter to look on the youthful figure behind him, the Grand Duke Maximilian, whose handsome and intelligent face was framed with a mass of fair curling hair. Clad all in velvet and silver, he rode between the Archbishops of Mayence and Treves. Accompanying these Princes of the Church was a singular companion, designated by the onlookers as “the Turk.” This was a son of the Sultan, who had been taken captive by the Christians and received the baptismal name of Calixtus. He lived at the Austrian court and was fond of appearing in costumes of startling gorgeousness. These personages did not claim attention long, however, for all eyes quickly turned to the centre of interest, the man who rode at the Emperor’s side.
Charles the Bold could certainly never have been called handsome, whatever his flatterers might claim; but fire and energy gleamed in his dark eyes, proud self-confidence, inflexible will, and haughty defiance were stamped upon his countenance. The personality of the Prince denoted an overbearing imperiousness that seemed to challenge at once admiration and repugnance, affection and antipathy. Magnificent, indeed, was the Duke’s attire. Over the breastplate of polished steel he wore a cloak so covered with pearls, diamonds, and rubies that the merchant from Basle estimated its value at two hundred thousand gold florins, while in his velvet cap sparkled a single jewel that was priceless. The Duke’s charger also called forth universal admiration. It was a black horse of matchless strength and beauty, equipped in full mail and decked with gold and jewelled housings that swept the ground. Behind the princes followed a long train of German and Burgundian nobles, among them the privy councillors of the Emperor and of the Duke, and the envoys of Albert of Brandenburg, who was called Achilles.[6]
“Why is he not there himself?” the people asked of one another; “he is deemed the bravest and wisest prince in all the Empire, and they say the Emperor can do nothing without him.”
“How think you,” asked another, “it would please the Elector to ride modestly behind the Burgundian among all those princes and counts?”
There seemed no end to the cavalcade. Following the Duke’s bodyguard, all sumptuously arrayed, both horse and man, came the flower of the Burgundian army, every man clad in new and glittering armor, their banners floating above them in the blaze of the Autumn sunlight, the whole making a scene of splendor such as the people had never before beheld. Pennon after pennon passed old Irmy, and still the end was not yet in sight, although the two princes had already entered the market place in Treves. There a second discussion arose between them as to which should have the honor of escorting the other to his lodgings, the Emperor as governor of the city wishing to act the part of host, and the Duke protesting. At length they agreed to separate at the market place, and the Duke rode at full speed back to the gates, which the last of his followers were just entering.
Once more the Duke passed Irmy while on his way to the Abbey of Saint Maximin, of which his ancestors had been patrons, and where he had taken up his quarters rather than in the town. This time, however, he rode too swiftly, and the people were too full of all the sights they had seen for him to excite the attention that he had received half an hour before. His retinue, the English archers, the Italian cuirassiers, and the native Burgundians with their varied equipment, followed through the gates. Six culverins were also included in the train, mounted on the wooden carriages which the Duke was accustomed to carry with him in the field, and which had been set up here in the camp also.
Dejected and disheartened, the old man turned his steps toward the camp once more. He had seen nothing of Captain Vögeli nor of his son, and had small hope of finding them here now. Exhausted with the fatigues of the day, and faint with hunger, for he had eaten nothing since morning, his first thought was to seek rest and refreshment, and then continue his search. Slowly he walked on through the camp. Artisans of all sorts had set up their workshops near the tents, bakers and butchers were offering their wares for sale, and there were tap-houses by the dozen. The cuirassiers had removed the trappings from their horses and with handfuls of straw were busy rubbing the foam and sweat from their flanks. The Italian’s hospitable wine shop stood open; but the tables were already well filled with soldiers, and the Councillor was about to pass on when the friendly servant beckoned to him and, leading him around to the rear, whispered: “This way; enter with me and seat yourself behind the counter; the soldiers will take you for one of us and make no objection to your presence.”
The tired and hungry Irmy gladly followed this suggestion. A good and substantial meal revived his strength; but his unwonted exertions proved too much for him, and he offered the waiter a good sum if he would provide him with a place where he might rest for a short time.
“Come right in here, sir,” replied the Italian, leading him to a small compartment; “you can lie down on my bed and no one will disturb you.”
As old Irmy slept, the wine shop gradually filled, while in the large tavern room the landlord was kept equally busy supplying the Burgundian officers with wine, cards, and dice. Duke Charles would permit no gambling among the common soldiers, and regarded it with great disfavor for the officers also; but to-day the players had no fear of discovery.
“You are on duty to-day, Vögeli?” asked one of the men from Freiburg.
“Yes; that is why I was not in the procession. It is a pity I was forced to miss it.”
“Nay, waste no regrets on that,” was the answer; “between dust and sweat we almost perished. What say you,—shall we have a game?”
“I do not care much for play,” replied Vögeli, “but as you please.”
They seated themselves accordingly and began to play, while the other tables were lively with all kinds of sport.
“Do you know,” said one, “why the Duke sent that magnificent diamond ring to his new page? Faith, it was because he wished the Prince good luck in his pursuit of Fortune.”
“All do not get such rich rewards,” said another; “the Duke is often displeased by such things.”
“Do you remember Lord de Comines?” asked a third; “he stood high in Charles’s favor, was his private secretary, and presumed more than any favorite ever had dared, yet even he once excited the wrath of the Duke. After a banquet, one night, he bethought him ’twould be a rare jest to sleep off his drunkenness in his master’s bed. But Charles soon awakened him.
“‘Good friend,’ he said, ‘you have forgotten your boots,’ and kneeling down he drew them off himself; then he flung them at the head of the now sobered secretary, and ordered him from the room to finish his slumbers in his own bed. Comines was known ever after as ‘Puss in Boots,’ and was received with scoffs and jeers whenever he ventured to show his face. Now he hobnobs in Paris with King Louis and weaves intrigues against us.”
Vögeli had been winning steadily, and not wishing to take any more of his comrade’s money, he arose and left the tavern to attend to his duties as officer of the day. Meanwhile it had been getting very noisy in the wine shop. The good Burgundy dispensed by Giacomo, the host, was greatly enjoyed by the cuirassiers, and they applied themselves to it industriously. Here, too, dice were thrown and cards dealt, but with more caution than the officers displayed. At length the door opened and six English archers entered, who quietly took their places at a table and called for wine.
“What business have they here?” asked the cuirassiers of one another. “Giacomo, you are our sutler and shall serve no others.”
As the tavernkeeper paid no heed to this, however, but prepared to supply the wants of the newcomers, one of the esquires, a Lombard of graceful but almost boyish figure sprang up from a table. “Hark you, Giacomo!” he shouted, “if you dare to serve these English curs we will run you through and afterwards burn your shop over your head!”
This threat was approved by loud shouts and vigorous oaths from all sides.
“All honor to my countrymen!” said the Italian, deprecatingly, “but the English must also live; nor do they lack good gold.”
“Nay—they have far too much, the dogs, the slanderers!”
The archers meanwhile, scarcely comprehending the import of this discourse, sat waiting patiently for the liquor they had ordered.
“Ralph,” said one of them to his neighbor, “can you make out what that little devil yonder is saying?”
“Never a word,” was the reply. “I only know I have a precious thirst and am kept waiting too long for my wine.”
With some difficulty the host succeeded in making his way to the Englishmen’s table; but before he could set down the jugs two Lombards planted themselves before him and shouted threateningly: “The Devil take you, Giacomo! Give them nothing, or it shall be the worse for you, do you hear?”
At this Giacomo lost his patience. “Nay, go to the Devil yourselves, dear countrymen,” he retorted, “or whither you please! As for me, the Englishmen’s gold is as good as your own. Give way!”
By this time the archers had grasped the situation, for they had been once praised by the Duke and held up as examples to the disorderly Lombards, who ever since had been their bitter enemies; and when the two cuirassiers proceeded to knock the jugs from Giacomo’s hand, spilling the wine upon the floor, Ralph with another tall archer sprang up, seized them by the throat in their iron grasp, and hurled them against the door with such violence that it burst open, and the Lombards rolled out head over heels just at the feet of Captain Vögeli, who was making his rounds through the camp to see that all was in order. This unexpected encounter was far from pleasing to the cuirassiers, for any breach of peace was severely punished. They attempted to explain, but the uproar within was so great, Vögeli did not stop to listen. Hastily entering the tavern he found the Englishmen surrounded on all sides with threatening fists and gleaming knives. Instant silence followed his appearance, for the strictness of the Duke’s discipline was well known among his followers, and the officer of the day was therefore a person much to be feared. Each man gave a different account of what had happened; but as all agreed that the two Lombards who had been flung out of the door and who by this time had picked themselves up out of the dust were the chief offenders, the Captain concluded to keep the affair to himself for this once, and merely ordered the archers to leave the wine shop. Before they had departed, however, the door of the servant’s sleeping-room opened and old Irmy made his appearance, roused at last by all the commotion.
“What! you here at last?” exclaimed Vögeli, holding out his hand to greet the merchant. “Truly you have kept us waiting long. But how came you here?”
“That is no concern of yours,” growled Irmy, refusing the proffered hand. “Where is my child, whom you enticed away from me in return for the hospitality I showed you?”
“My good sir,” said the officer, “’twas but in kindness to your friend, the host of The Bears, that you took me in, for it would have fared ill with him had news of that affair become known. As for your son, nothing was farther from my thoughts than to persuade him to leave you. I did not believe the lad would return to his home even had I refused to take him with me, and then you might have searched for him, who knows where? If you will go with me to the city, he shall be restored to you at once. Moreover, I have managed already to disgust him with the idea of soldiering. The other youth refuses to be converted, however, and is in a fair way to become a pikeman.”
“I care naught for him,” replied Irmy, as they left the wine shop; “he was always a good-for-naught. His father settled in the village of Aarau, and thought to ruin us merchants of Basle by his low prices; and when he finally died, himself a bankrupt, nothing would do but I must have the boy brought up in my house. But he never could be taught anything; he is as full of foolish pranks as a donkey is of gray hairs, though not altogether bad at heart,—not so bad as his father was.”
“Now you are talking sensibly,” said Vögeli. “Methinks you might have spared me your abuse just now.”
“Nay, do not judge me too harshly,” answered the old man; “it is my nature to grumble, and in a large business like mine one is vexed by so many people every day, one becomes used to quarrelling. Consider, too, that I had lost my only child, the boy who is to succeed to my name and to my business when I no longer have time or strength to carry it on. I am glad to find him here with you, and thank you with all my heart for the wisdom and prudence you have shown.”
“Truly that has a different sound,” declared the officer; “but let us turn up this street. My lodgings are yonder on the market place, and there we shall find the lad.”
Old Irmy hurried on in advance of his companion, till he reached the doorway of the house Vögeli had pointed out; he rushed up the stairway, and the next moment father and son were clasped in each other’s arms. The Councillor’s forgiveness was easily won, for he had already given his anger full vent, and when, half an hour later, the two Irmys found themselves seated with the Captain at the well spread table of the best inn the town afforded, the last trace of his resentment vanished.
“You ought to remain here with us a few days longer and see all the festivities,” said Vögeli—“the tournament, at least.”
But Irmy refused, declaring he must return at once to look after his people, who would be out of all bounds were he too long absent.
“It is a gay life you lead here,” he continued, “and one cannot much blame a lad of sixteen for longing to join in it.”
“All is not gold that glitters,” replied the Captain. “I often feel a distaste for my profession; indeed, I should never have left my native land had I been on better terms with my brother Hans. He was always domineering and, being the elder, determined to have his own way in everything. Moreover, he well understood how to win over our father by his flattery, while I with my straightforward disposition could not get on with him at all. I was obliged to submit myself dutifully to my brother’s orders and weigh raisins and pour vinegar in my father’s grocery shop, with no prospect of ever becoming anything more than a clerk—for Hans always reserved the profits for himself. So I said to myself, ‘You had better try some other country,’ and though I well knew how deserters were despised, I left my home and took service with Burgundy. Nor have I reason to regret it, for in truth I have prospered better than most. My father disinherited me, it is true, and the city of Freiburg has banished all deserters, but I care little for that. I willingly yield to Hans my share of our inheritance, and should I ever return to Freiburg to visit the graves of my parents, as a Burgundian officer, I shall enter and depart without question. Yet for many reasons I do not like this service, for there is much wrong and injustice, and it often revolts me to be forced to obey Hagenbach’s commands. Moreover, it is a sad life to be always wandering among strangers, without a country, without a home, without a family. Here one lives from hand to mouth, and to save enough from one’s pay to return at last to the Fatherland to end one’s days in peace is scarcely to be thought of.”
“Then why not quit this service and go with us?” said Irmy; “surely some place can be found for you, in your own land, that will suit you.”
“Nay, I am forbidden to return to Freiburg, and you know I am a Switzer. It must go hard with us before we abandon the masters to whom we have pledged ourselves.”
So their talk ran on till the shades of evening began to fall, when they parted, Irmy returning with Walter to what had hitherto been the Captain’s lodgings, while the latter hastened back to the camp and took up his quarters in the tent that had been assigned to him there.
On the following morning the merchant and his son bade farewell to their friend and, riding out through the gate of the city, took their way along the highroad that led from Strassburg to Basle.
Festivities of all sorts, tournament, parades, and banquets followed in rapid succession in the city of Treves. Even the festivals of the Church afforded the clergy an opportunity of displaying their wealth and magnificence. The Archbishop, however, was not altogether pleased with what was going on within the walls of his court; for the people talked openly of Charles’s coronation, an event as much opposed to the interests of the ecclesiastical Elector of Treves as of all the princes of the German Empire. Either the Elector of Brandenburg or the Elector of Saxony could lay quite as just a claim to a king’s crown as could the Burgundian. Moreover, was it not whispered that the Electorate of Treves was to form part of the new kingdom? The Archbishop a vassal of Charles the Bold! Nay, that must be prevented at any cost.
Meanwhile the negotiations between the two potentates made little progress. Week after week went by, and still the Councillors could come to no agreement concerning the Turkish war, as it was given out, but in reality, as to the marriage of Maximilian and the coronation of Charles the Bold, though this was known only to the initiated. At last, however, the end seemed near: the Councillors met to complete the final arrangements; that evening the contracts were to be signed; and the next morning Charles would awake as King, Maximilian as the betrothed of Burgundy’s heiress.
The Emperor reclined contentedly in his armchair. He had been repeatedly annoyed by the Duke’s arrogance and extravagance of display, but comforted himself with the reflection that all Charles’s wealth and possessions would eventually fall to his own son and heir by marriage with the much courted Maria of Burgundy. That here in this old city events were to prove propitious to him had been foretold by the stars. His entry had been made under a fortunate conjunction, and since then there had been no change in the favorable aspect of the planets. Yet he could not permit this night to pass without again consulting the heavens as to the further progress of his affairs. Rising listlessly, therefore, from the writing table upon which he was wont to scribble and had to-day scrawled with especial conviction fully a hundred times the words, “The whole earth is a vassal of Austria,” he was about to seek a private conference with the court astrologer, when a light knock was heard at the door, and the venerable Archbishop of Treves entered, evidently in great agitation. Approaching the Emperor, he bowed respectfully and said:
“May a faithful servant crave leave to speak a few words with Your Majesty?”
“We were about to retire,” replied Frederick indifferently, “but will not refuse you, if it be on a matter of great import.”
“Not otherwise, sire, would I have presumed to intrude myself in the chamber of our most illustrious Emperor,” said the Archbishop. Then standing erect before the monarch and assuming a resolute expression, he began:
“For many weeks past, in our good city of Treves, great preparations have been made both in the cathedral and on the market place, and people in the streets talk of a coronation. The Princes and Electors of the Empire have paid no heed to this idle chatter, nor deemed that aught else was in question than another of those splendid pageants of which we feel we have already seen more than enough. But reliable news has just reached us that these rumors are not entirely without foundation, and I have hastened hither to implore Your Majesty in the name of my fellow-princes to put an end to our apprehensions with one word of assurance.”
“What if we cannot speak that word?” asked Frederick calmly.
“Then God help the unhappy Empire, and the illustrious house of Austria as well! But I can scarce believe that His Roman Majesty has formed a decision or pledged himself as yet in so weighty an affair as this. To create a King without a council of the chief members of the Empire! That were unheard of. But no! pardon me, Your Majesty, if I have gone too far.”
“Nay, go on,” replied the Emperor. “What you say is nothing new. All these objections have been laid before us a thousand times by our loyal subject and Privy Councillor, Count Werdenberg.”
Thus encouraged, Archbishop John continued: “Were it merely the question of a new kingdom, of what countries would you form it? Powerful princes of the Church forced to submit to Burgundian sovereignty? Lorraine?—I cannot believe you would wrest that from the knightly young Duke René. Nay, should Your Imperial Majesty permit such a crime against a minor, ’twould justify the pettiest freebooter’s unlawful depredations.”
Here Frederick looked away, unable to meet the stern glance of the prelate, who continued: “And in the end, even should Your Majesty succeed, contrary to all precedent, in forming a new kingdom, and making the proud Burgundian your ally, would not all his enemies and backbiters then become the foes of Austria likewise? I beseech Your Majesty to consider: cut off from all the members of the Empire, menaced by foes from without, the Lord of Christendom will be forced to yield to the commands or desires of the King he has created.”
“That may all be true,” answered Frederick, quite unmoved; “but since you discourse so sagely of these things mayhap you can show us some way out of the tangle; for ourselves, we can find none.”
“Nothing easier,” returned the Archbishop. “Speak of this to no one: at midnight we will take a boat and depart secretly from Treves. You will thus escape from your dilemma. Duke Charles will not be crowned, the Empire will suffer no wrong, and Your Majesty will be freed from all obligations and once more master of your own actions.”
Frederick was speechless with surprise, but after some deliberation he agreed to follow this counsel. An emissary was secretly despatched to the Imperial Councillors, who were still arguing with the Burgundians. To the amazement of the latter, Count Werdenberg suddenly declared negotiations broken off, nor were all their efforts to secure a future resumption of the discussion of any avail. Half an hour later the Burgundian Chancellor stood beside the Duke’s bed in the Abbey of St. Maximin and related what had passed, his report being frequently interrupted by outbursts of fury from his lord.
Just at this time a door of the archiepiscopal palace in Treves was softly opened and Archbishop John issued forth followed by young Maximilian and Frederick, with a few attendants. Silently and cautiously they crept away and betook themselves with all speed to the banks of the Moselle, where a boat was waiting for them. Like fugitives the princes silently embarked, and protected by the veil of night that still hung heavy over the old city, the boat glided smoothly down the dark river toward the green waters of the Rhine.
Half an hour after their departure a troop of horsemen approached the spot where the skiff had been moored. They were Burgundian cuirassiers, led by Captain Vögeli, who had been on guard in the Duke’s antechamber. “The Devil!” he growled, “could I but have carried the Roman Emperor prisoner to my Duke, I need have yearned no longer to end my days comfortably in the Fatherland.”
Since the days of Tell and Gessler there had been no alliance between Austria and the Swiss Confederation. Occasionally, it is true, the Swiss had shown a friendly spirit toward the Emperor, who was a member of that royal house, and they had never really ceased to regard themselves as belonging to the German Empire. About this time, however, a peace was concluded between the two countries, called the “Everlasting Compact,” which has never been broken from that day to this.
The Swiss States had advanced to the Austrian Archduke Sigismund the sum required to redeem his Alsatian possessions, and notified Charles the Bold, who held them in pledge, that it was awaiting his acceptance in Basle. But Charles continually made evasions. While at Treves, he had visited these mortgaged lands and concluded they would form a valuable addition to his own dominions. He urged the Hapsburger to defer a settlement of the affair until he should have time to receive the money at Besançon or some other designated place; under no circumstances would he come to Basle. This was brief and to the point; in reality he had no notion of granting a release at any time.
The Alsatians themselves were far from content with this state of things, for while Duke Sigismund was by no means a model sovereign, the harsh rule of Peter von Hagenbach pleased them still less. The hated Governor resided at Brisach, and on this particular evening had summoned all his officers to a council. Striding restlessly up and down the spacious apartment where a number of fierce bearded soldiers, Walloons and Picards for the most part, were already assembled, he at last burst out: “Where is that fellow Vögeli? Can he mean to play us false, as I have been warned? Pah! I know my Switzers very well. They will lend themselves to anything, provided they are but paid and managed properly.”
Scarcely had he uttered the words, when Vögeli entered and, passing the Governor and his fellow-officers with a respectful greeting, took his place at the lower end of the table.
“Marry, sir!” cried Hagenbach smiling, “’tis plain you are no fool and know how to make yourself of importance. By right you should no longer be entitled to share our councils, for I have released your disorderly followers from their oath.”
“Nevertheless, until they have been paid their arrears I am still their Captain and yours,” quietly answered Vögeli.
Hagenbach darted an evil glance at the bold speaker, but made no reply, and turning at once to the matter in hand, addressed his leaders as follows: “You are all well aware of the mutinous spirit that exists among the inhabitants of this cursed country. If we delay they will soon be in open revolt. It is our business to maintain the allegiance due our mighty lord, the Duke, may God preserve him, and to seize by force whatever towns or castles may be necessary.”
The foreign captains here expressed their lively approval, but Vögeli was silent. Hagenbach continued: “What these churls have in mind is plain from the fact that even to-day, on the holy Easter festival, they went fully armed to church. But, by my soul, it shall not be! This good city of Brisach must be held for our lord at any cost. There is no lack of provisions, and the stores would suffice for a year were there fewer mouths to devour them. This, then, is my plan: Early on the morrow a proclamation shall be made to the citizens, that their refusal to aid in the work of fortification will avail them naught; all those who are not outside the gates by midday prepared to labor in the trenches shall be dragged thither by force, be they men or women. For the execution of this order, gentlemen, you will answer to me, and if any one can suggest a better plan—let him speak.” The Governor paused.
“Pardon me, my lord,” said Vögeli deprecatingly, “but if the burghers are forced to do this work, will they not return to their homes exasperated by the indignity inflicted on them and yet more determined upon mischief?”
“Have no fear, my friend,” replied Hagenbach with a sinister smile, “they will make no trouble for us in Brisach, for the reason that when all are without the walls the gates shall be closed and none permitted to return again at night.”
“And their children and their property?” inquired Vögeli.
“God-a-mercy! What does that concern you? Their brats shall be sent after them, and their possessions serve as a reward to our brave followers. Those who stay behind shall be strung up as rebels; and should there be too many of these, faith, our good friend Joseph Broschi [here he nodded to one of the officers] well understands how to dispose of a superfluous population.”
The details of this cruel scheme were listened to in silence and without a sign of disfavor from those present; no objections were made, for all were accustomed to obey. Moreover, the Governor was in the right in one respect. Only the most extreme measures could break the rebellious spirit of the Alsatians; so the city of Brisach must be made a warning example. The conference therefore was soon ended, and the captains separated with many coarse jests. Hagenbach clapped Vögeli roughly on the shoulder, saying:
“What is the matter with you to-day? You are as soft-hearted as an old woman. But hark you, sir! I have no use for such officers, nor yet has our lord of Burgundy.”
Vögeli looked inquiringly at the Governor. “Does that mean I am dismissed, my lord?” he asked.
“Nay, methinks we shall stick together for some time yet; for if you intend to remain in the Duke’s service till your men are paid, you are like to wait till Doomsday!”
With these words Hagenbach turned abruptly to one of the Italians, with whom he conversed for some time in an undertone.
“Keep a watchful eye on him,” said Hagenbach to the others, as Vögeli left. “Heretofore I have turned a deaf ear to all whispers against him; now I no longer trust him. I will consider the matter to-morrow. He is a good soldier, and the people like him; but be on your guard as befits the service of our most noble Duke.”