The Forest of Swords by Joseph A. Altsheler

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The long windows of the house threw back the last rays of the setting
sun, and it was twilight when von Arnheim and his four captives entered
the chateau. A large man, middle-aged, heavy and bearded, wearing the
uniform of a German general rose, and a staff of several officers rose
with him. It was Auersperg, the medieval prince, and John's heart was
troubled.

Von Arnheim saluted, bowing deeply. He stood not only in the presence of
his general, but of royalty also. It was something in the German blood,
even in one so brave and of such high rank as von Arnheim himself, that
compelled humility, and John, like the fierce democrat he was, did not
like it at all. The belief was too firmly imbedded in his mind ever to
be removed that men like Auersperg and the mad power for which they
stood had set the torch to Europe.

"Captain von Boehlen took some prisoners, Your Highness," said von
Arnheim, "and as he was compelled to continue on his expedition he has
sent them here under the escort of Lieutenant Puttkamer. The young lady
is Mademoiselle Julie Lannes, the sister of the aviator, of whom we all
know, the woman and the peasant are her servants, and the young man,
whom we have seen before, is an American, John Scott in the French
service."

He spoke in French, with intention, John thought, and the heavy-lidded
eyes of Auersperg dwelt an instant on the fresh and beautiful face of
Julie. And that momentary glance was wholly medieval. John saw it and
understood it. A rage against Auersperg that would never die flamed up
in his heart. He already hated everything for which the man stood.
Auersperg's glance passed on, and slowly measured the gigantic figure of
Picard. Then he smiled in a slow and ugly fashion.

"Ah, a peasant in civilian's dress, captured fighting our brave armies!
Our orders are very strict upon that point. Von Arnheim, take this
_franc tireur_ behind the chateau and have him shot at once."

He too had spoken in French, and doubtless with intention also. John
felt a thrill of horror, but Julie Lannes, turning white, sprang before
Picard:

"No! No!" she cried to Auersperg. "You cannot do such a thing! He is not
a soldier! They would not take him because he is too old! He is my
mother's servant! It would be barbarous to have him shot!"

Auersperg looked again at Julie, and smiled, but it was the slow, cold
smile of a master.

"You beg very prettily, Mademoiselle," he said.

She flushed, but stood firm.

"It would be murder," she said. "You cannot do it!"

"You know little of war. This man is a _franc tireur_, a civilian in
civilian's garb, fighting against us. It is our law that all such who
are caught be shot immediately."

"Your Highness," said von Arnheim, "I have reason to think that the
lady's story is correct. This man's daughter is her maid, and he is
obviously a servant of her house."

Auersperg turned his slow, heavy look upon the young Prussian, but John
noticed that von Arnheim met it without flinching, although Picard had
really fired upon the Germans. He surmised that von Arnheim was fully as
high-born as Auersperg, and perhaps more so. John knew that these things
counted for a lot in Germany, however ridiculous they might seem to a
democratic people. Nevertheless Auersperg spoke with irony:

"Your heart is overworking, von Arnheim," he said "Sometimes I fear that
it is too soft for a Prussian. Our Emperor and our Fatherland demand
that we shall turn hearts of steel to our enemies, and never spare them.
But it may be, my brave Wilhelm, that your sympathy is less for this
hulking peasant and more for the fair face of the lady whom he serves."

John saw Julie's face flush a deep red, and his hand stole down to his
belt, but no weapon was there. Von Arnheim's face reddened also, but he
stood at attention before his superior officer and replied with dignity:

"I admire Mademoiselle Lannes, although I have known her only ten
minutes, but I think, Your Highness, that my admiration is warranted,
and also that it is not lacking in respect."

"Good for you, von Arnheim," said John, under his breath. But the
medieval mind of Auersperg was not disturbed. The slow, cruel smile
passed across his face again.

"You are brave my Wilhelm," he said, "but I am confirmed in my opinion
that some of our princely houses have become tainted. The harm that was
done when Napoleon smashed his way through Europe has never been undone.
The touch of the democracy was defilement, and it does not pass. Do you
think our ancestors would have wasted so much time over a miserable
French peasant?"

This was a long speech, much too long for the circumstances, John
thought, but von Arnheim still standing stiffly at attention, merely
said:

"Your Highness I ask this man's life of you. He is not a _franc tireur_
in the real sense."

"Since you make it a personal matter, my brave young Wilhelm, I yield.
Let him be held a prisoner, but no more requests of the same kind. This
is positively the last time I shall yield to such a weakness."

"Thank you, Your Highness," said von Arnheim. Julie gave him one
flashing look of gratitude and stepped away from Picard, who had stood,
his arms folded across his chest, refusing to utter a single word for
mercy. "This indeed," thought John "is a man." Suzanne was near, and now
both he and his daughter turned away relaxing in no wise their looks of
grim resolution. "Here also is a woman as well as a man," thought John.

"I hope, Your Highness, that I may assign Mademoiselle Lannes and her
maid to one of the upper rooms," said von Arnheim in tones respectful,
but very firm. "Here also is another man," thought John.

"You may," said Auersperg shortly, "but let the peasant be sent to the
stables, where the other prisoners are kept."

Two soldiers were called and they took Picard away. Julie and Suzanne
followed von Arnheim to a stairway, and John was left alone with
medievalism. The man wore no armor, but when only they two stood in the
room his feeling that he was back in the Middle Ages was overpowering.
Here was the baron, and here was he, untitled and unknown.

Auersperg glanced at Julie, disappearing up the stairway, and then
glanced back at John. Over his heavy face passed the same slow cruel
smile that set all John's nerves to jumping.

"Why have you, an American, come so far to fight against us?" he asked.

"I didn't come for that purpose. I was here, visiting, and I was caught
in the whirl of the war, an accident, perhaps. But my sympathies are
wholly with France. I fight in her ranks from choice."

Auersperg laughed unpleasantly.

"A republic!" he said. "Millions of the ignorant, led by demagogues!
Bah! The Hohenzollerns will scatter them like chaff!"

"I can't positively say that I saw any Hohenzollern, but I did see their
armies turned back from Paris by those ignorant people, led by their
demagogues. I'm not even sure of the name of the French general who did
it, but God gave him a better brain for war, though he may have been
born a peasant for all I know, than he did to your Kaiser, or any king,
prince, grand duke or duke in all the German armies!"

John had been tried beyond endurance and he knew that he had spoken with
impulsive passion, but he knew also that he had spoken with truth. The
face of Auersperg darkened. The medieval baron, full of power, without
responsibility, believing implicitly in what he chose to call his order,
but which was merely the chance of birth, was here. And while the Middle
Ages in reality had passed, war could hide many a dark tale. John was
unable to read the intent in the cruel eyes, but they heard the
footsteps of von Arnheim on the stairs, and the clenched hand that had
been raised fell back by Auersperg's side. Nevertheless medievalism did
not relax its gaze.

"What to you is this girl who seems to have charmed von Arnheim?" he
asked.

"Her brother has become my best friend. She has charmed me as she has
charmed von Arnheim, and as she charms all others whom she meets. And I
am pleased to tell Your Highness that the spell she casts is not alone
her beauty, but even more her pure soul."

Auersperg laughed in an ugly fashion.

"Youth! Youth!" he exclaimed. "I see that the spell is upon you, even
more than it is upon von Arnheim. But dismiss her from your thoughts.
You go a prisoner into Germany, and it's not likely that you'll ever see
her again."

Young Scott felt a sinking of the heart, but he was not one to show it.

"Prisoners may escape," he said boldly, "and what has been done once can
always be done again."

"We shall see that it does not happen a second time in your case. Von
Arnheim will dispose of you for the night, and even if you should
succeed in stealing from the chateau there is around it a ring of German
sentinels through which you could not possibly break."

Some strange kink appeared suddenly in John's brain--he was never able
to account for it afterward, though Auersperg's manner rasped him
terribly.

"I mean to escape," he said, "and I wager you two to one that I do."

Auersperg sat down and laughed, laughed in a way that made John's face
turn red. Then he beckoned to von Arnheim.

"Take him away," he said. "He is characteristic of his frivolous
democracy, frivolous and perhaps amusing, but it is a time for serious
not trifling things."

John was glad enough to go with von Arnheim, who was silent and
depressed. Yet the thought came to him once more that there were princes
and princes. Von Arnheim led the way to a small bare room under the
roof. John saw that there were soldiers in the upper halls as well as
the lower, and he was sorry that he had made such a boast to Auersperg.
As he now saw it his chance of escape glimmered into nothing.

"You should not have spoken so to His Highness," said von Arnheim. "I
could not help but hear. He is our commander here, and it is not well to
infuriate one who holds all power over you?"

"I am but human," replied John.

"And being human, you should have had complete control over yourself at
such a time."

"I admit it," said John, taking the rebuke in the right spirit.

"You're to spend the night here. I've been able to secure this much
lenity for you, but it's for one night only. Tomorrow you go with the
other prisoners in the stables. Your door will be locked, but even if
you should succeed in forcing it don't try to escape. The halls swarm
with sentinels, and you would be shot instantly. I'll have food sent to
you presently."

He spoke brusquely but kindly. When he went out John heard a huge key
rumbling in the lock.

CHAPTER XIV

A PROMISE KEPT

The room in which John was confined contained only a bed, a chair and a
table. It was lighted by a single window, from which he could see
numerous soldiers below. He also heard the distant mutter of the cannon,
which seemed now to have become a part of nature. There were periods of
excitement or of mental detachment, when he did not notice it, but it
was always there. Now the soldiers in the grounds were moving but
little, and the air pulsed with the thud of the great guns.

He recalled again his promise, or rather threat, to Auersperg that he
would escape. Instinctively he went to the narrow but tall window and
glanced at the heavens. Then he knew that impulse had made him look for
Lannes and the _Arrow_, and he laughed at his own folly. Even if Lannes
knew where they were he could not slip prisoners out of a house,
surrounded by watchful German troops.

He heard the heavy key turning in the lock, and a silent soldier brought
him food, which he put upon the table. The man remained beside the door
until John had eaten his supper, when he took the dishes and withdrew.
He had not spoken a word while he was in the room, but as he was passing
out John said:

"Good-bye, Pickelbaube! Let's have no ill feeling between you and me."

The German--honest peasant that he was--grinned and nodded. He could not
understand the English words, but he gathered from John's tone that they
were friendly, and he responded at once. But when he closed the door
behind him John heard the heavy key turning in the lock again. He knew
there was little natural hostility between the people of different
nations. It was instilled into them from above.

Food brought back new strength and new courage. He took his place again
at the window which was narrow and high, cut through a deep wall. The
illusion of the Middle Ages, which Auersperg had created so completely,
returned. This was the dungeon in a castle and he was a prisoner doomed
to death by its lord. Some dismounted Uhlans who were walking across the
grounds with their long lances over their shoulders gave another touch
to this return of the past, as the first rays of the moonlight glittered
on helmet and lance-head.

He was not sleepy at all, and staying by the window he kept a strange
watch. He saw white flares appear often on a long line in the west. He
knew it was the flashing of the searchlights, and he surmised that what
he saw was meant for signals. The fighting would go on under steady
light continued long, and that it would continue admitted of no doubt.
He could hear the mutter of the guns, ceaseless like the flowing of a
river.

He saw the battery drive out of the grounds, then turn into the road
before the chateau and disappear. He concluded that the cannon were
needed at some weak point where the Franco-British army was pressing
hard.

Then a company of hussars came from the forest and rode quietly into the
grounds, where they dismounted. John saw that many, obviously the
wounded, were helped from their horses. In battle, he concluded, and not
so far off. Perhaps not more than two or three miles. Rifle-fire, with
the wind blowing the wrong way, would not be heard that distance.

The hussars, leading their horses, disappeared in a wood behind the
house, and they were followed presently by a long train of automobiles,
moving rather slowly. The moonlight was very bright now and John saw
that they were filled with wounded who stirred but little and who made
no outcry. The line of motors turned into the place and they too
disappeared behind the chateau, following the hussars.

Two aeroplanes alighted on the grass and their drivers entered the
house. Bearers of dispatches, John felt sure, and while he watched he
saw both return, spring into their machines and fly away. Their
departure caused him to search the heavens once more, and he knew that
he was looking for Lannes, who could not come.

Now von Arnheim passed down the graveled walk that led to the great
central gate, but, half way, turned from it and began to talk to some
sentinels who stood on the grass. He was certainly a fine fellow, tall,
well built, and yet free from the German stoutness of figure. He wore a
close uniform of blue-gray which fitted him admirably, and the moonlight
fell in a flood on his handsome, ruddy face.

"I hope you won't be killed," murmured John. "If there is any French
shell or shrapnel that is labeled specially for a prince and that must
have a prince, I pray it will take Auersperg in place of von Arnheim."

It was a serious prayer and he felt that it was without a trace of
wickedness or sacrilege. Evidently von Arnheim was giving orders of
importance, as two of the men, to whom he was talking, hurried to
horses, mounted and galloped down the road. Then the young prince walked
slowly back to the house and John could see that he was very thoughtful.
He passed his hand in a troubled way two or three times across his
forehead. Perhaps the medieval prince inside was putting upon the modern
prince outside labors that he was far from liking.

John's unformed plan of escape included Julie Lannes. He could not go
away without her. If he did he could never face Lannes again, and what
was more, he could never face himself. It was in reality this thought
that made his resolve to escape seem so difficult. It had been lurking
continuously in the back of his head. To go away without Julie was
impossible. Under ordinary circumstances her situation as a prisoner
would not be alarming. Germans regarded women with respect. They had
done so from the earliest times, as he had learned from the painful
study of Tacitus. Von Arnheim had received a deep impression from
Julie's beauty and grace. John could tell it by his looks, but those
looks were honest. They came from the eyes and heart of one who could do
no wrong. But the other! The man of the Middle Ages, the older prince.
He was different. War re-created ancient passions and gave to them
opportunities. No, he could not think of leaving without Julie!

He kept his place at the tall, narrow window, and the night was steadily
growing brighter. A full, silver moon was swinging high in the heavens.
The stars were out in myriads in that sky of dusky, infinite blue, and
danced regardless of the tiny planet, Earth, shaken by battle. From the
hills came the relentless groaning which he knew was the sound of the
guns, fighting one another under the searchlights.

Then he heard the clatter of hoofs, and another company of Uhlans rode
up to the chateau. Their leader dismounted and entered the great gate.
John recognized von Boehlen, who had taken off his helmet to let the
cool air blow upon his close-cropped head. He stood on the graveled walk
for a few minutes directly in a flood of silver rays, every feature
showing clearly. He had been arrogant and domineering, but John liked
him far better than Auersperg. His cruelty would be the cruelty of
battle, and there might be a streak of sentimentalism hidden under the
stiff and harsh German manner, like a vein of gold in rock. As von
Boehlen resumed his approach to the house he passed from John's range of
vision, and then the prisoner watched the horizon for anything that he
might see. Twice he beheld the far flare of searchlights, but nobody
else came to the chateau, and the night darkened somewhat. No rattle of
arms or stamp of hoofs came from the hussars in the grounds, and he
judged that all but the sentinels slept. Nor was there any sound of
movement in the house, and in the peaceful silence he at last began to
feel sleepy. The problems of his position were too great for him to
solve--at least for the present--and lying down on the cot he was fast
asleep before he knew it.

Youth does not always sleep soundly, and the tension of John's nerves
continued long after he lapsed into unconsciousness. That, perhaps, was
the reason why he awoke at once when the heavy key began to turn again
in the lock. He sat up on the cot--he had not undressed--and his hand
instinctively slipped to his belt, where there was no weapon.

The key was certainly turning in the lock, and then the door was
opening! A shadow appeared in the space between door and wall, and
John's first feeling was of apprehension. An atmosphere of suspicion had
been created about him and he considered his life in much more danger
there than it had been when he was first a prisoner.

The door closed again quickly and softly, but somebody was inside the
room, somebody who had a light, feline step, and John felt the prickling
of the hair at the back of his neck. He longed for a weapon, something
better than only his two hands, but he was reassured when the intruder,
speaking French, called in a whisper:

"Are you awake, Mr. Scott?"

It was surely not the voice and words of one who had come to do murder,
and John felt a thrill of recognition.

"Weber!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, it's Weber, Mr. Scott."

"How under the sun did you get here, Weber?"

"By pretending to be a German. I'm an Alsatian, you know, and it's not
difficult. I'm doing work for France. It's terribly dangerous. My life
is on the turn of a hair every moment, but I'm willing to take the risk.
I did not know you were here until late tonight, when I came to the
chateau to see if I could discover anything further about the numbers
and movements of the enemy. You must get away now. I think I can help
you to escape."

There was a tone in Weber's voice that aroused John's curiosity.

"It's good of you, Weber," he said, "to take such a risk for me, but why
is it so urgent that I escape tonight?"

"I've learned since I came to the chateau that the Prince of Auersperg
is much inflamed against you. Perhaps you spoke to him in a way that
gave offense to his dignity. Ah, sir, the members of these ancient royal
houses, those of the old type, consider themselves above and beyond the
other people of the earth. In Germany you cannot offend them without
risk, and it may be, too, that you stand in his way in regard to
something that he very much desires!"

Although Weber spoke in a whisper his voice was full of energy and
earnestness. His words sank with the weight of truth into John's heart.

"Can you really help me to escape?" he asked.

"I think so. I'm sure of it. The guards in the house are relaxed at this
late hour, and they would seem needless anyhow with so many sentinels
outside."

"But, Weber, Julie Lannes, the sister of Philip Lannes, is here a
prisoner also. She was taken when I was. She is a Red Cross nurse, and
although the Germans would not harm a woman, I do not like to leave her
in this chateau. Your Prince of Auersperg does not seem to belong to our
later age."

"Perhaps not. He holds strongly for the old order, but the young von
Arnheim is here also. His is a devoted German heart, but his German eyes
have looked with admiration, nay more, upon a French face. He will
protect that beautiful young Mademoiselle Julie with his life against
anybody, against his senior in military rank, the Prince of Auersperg
himself. Sir, you must come! If you wish to help Philip Lannes' sister
you can be of more help to her living than dead. If you linger here you
surely disappear from men tomorrow!"

"How do you know these things, Weber?"

"I have been in the house three or four hours and there is talk among
the soldiers. I pray you, don't hesitate longer!"

"How can you find a way?"

"Wait a minute."

He slipped back to the door, opened it and looked into the hall.

"The path is clear," he said, when he returned. "There is no sentinel
near your door, and I've found a way leading out of the chateau at the
back. Most of these old houses have crooked, disused passages."

"But suppose we succeed in reaching the outside, Weber, what then? The
place is surrounded by an army."

"A way is there, too. One man in the darkness can pass through a
multitude. We can't delay, because another chance may not come!"

John was overborne. Weber was half pulling him toward the door.
Moreover, there was much sense in what the Alsatian said. It was a
commonplace that he could be of more service to Julie alive than dead,
and the man's insistence deciding him, he crept with the Alsatian into
the hall. They stood a few minutes in the dark, listening, but no sound
came. Evidently the house slept well.

"This way, Mr. Scott," whispered Weber, and he led toward the rear of
the house. Turning the corner of the hall he opened a small door in the
wall, which John would have passed even in the daylight without
noticing.

"Put a hand on my coat and follow me," said Weber.

John obeyed without hesitation, and they ascended a half dozen steps
along a passage so narrow that his shoulders touched the walls. It was
very dark there, but at the top they entered a room into which some
moonlight came, enough for John to see barrels, boxes and bags heaped on
the floor.

"A storeroom," said Weber. "The French are thrifty. The owner of this
house had splendor below, and he has kept provision for it above, almost
concealed by the narrowness of the door and stair. But we'll find a
broader stair on the other side, and then we'll descend through the
kitchen and beyond."

"This looks promising. You're a clever man, Weber, and my debt to you is
too big for me."

"Don't think about it. Be careful and don't make any noise. Here's the
other stair. You'd better hold to my coat again."

They stole softly down the stair, crossed an unused room, went down
another narrow, unused passage, and then, when Weber opened a door, John
felt the cool air of the night blowing upon his face. When the attempt
at escape began, he had not been so enthusiastic, because he was leaving
Julie behind, but with every step his eagerness grew and the free wind
brought with it a sort of intoxication. He did not doubt now that he
would make good his flight. Weber, that fast friend of his, was a
wonderful man. He worked miracles. Everything came out as he predicted
it would, and he would work more miracles.

"Where are we now?" asked John.

"This door is by the side of the kitchens. A little to the left is an
extensive conservatory, nearly all the glass of which has been shattered
by a shell, but that fact makes it all the more useful as a path for
us. If we reach it unobserved we can creep through the mass of flowers
and shrubbery to a large fishpond which lies just beyond it. You're a
good swimmer, as I know--and you can swim along its edge until you reach
the shrubbery on the other side. Then you ought to find an opening by
which you can reach the French army."

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