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The Sword Maker by Robert Barr

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"Why will you not come back with us?" pleaded the penitents, with
surprising mildness.

"Because the future in Frankfort strikes me as hopeless. Not one amongst
us has the brains of Roland, whom we have thrown out. Besides, it is
nine and a half long leagues to Frankfort, and only three and a half
leagues to Assmannshausen. I expect to find Roland there, and although I
know nothing of his intentions, I imagine he has gone to enlist a
company of a score or thereabouts that will obey his commands. There is
some hope by going forward to Assmannshausen; there is absolutely none
in retreating to Frankfort. Then, as I said, Assmannshausen is little
more than three leagues away; a fact worth consideration by hungry men.
On the Rhine we are in the rich wine country, where there is plenty to
eat and drink, probably for the asking, whereas if we turn our faces
towards the east we are marching upon starvation."

The buzz of comment aroused by this speech proved to the two men that
Kurzbold stood once more alone. Greusel, without seeming to care which
way the cat jumped, had induced that unreasoning animal to leap as he
liked. His air of supreme indifference aroused Ebearhard's admiration,
especially when he remembered that under his cloak there rested a
hundred and fifteen thalers in gold and silver.

"But you know nothing of the way," protested Kurzbold. "None of us are
acquainted with the country to the west."

"We don't need to be acquainted with it," said Greusel. "We steer
westward by glancing at the sun now and then, and cannot go astray,
because we must come to the Rhine; then it's either up or down the
river, as the case may be, to reach Assmannshausen."

"To the Rhine! To the Rhine!" was now the universal cry.

"Before we begin our journey," said Greusel, as if he accepted the
leadership with reluctance, "I must have your promise that you will obey
me without question. I am not so patient a man as Roland, but on my part
I guarantee you an excellent meal and good wine as soon as we reach
Assmannshausen."

"How can you promise that," growled Kurzbold, "when you have given away
your money?"

"Because, as I told you, I expect to meet Roland there."

"But he threw away his bag."

"Yes; I told him it was a foolish thing to do, and perhaps that is why
he left without saying a word, even to me. He is an ingenious man.
Assmannshausen is familiar to him, and I dare say he would not have
discarded his money without knowing where to get more."

"To the Rhine! To the Rhine! To the Rhine!" cried the impatient host,
gathering up their cloaks, and tightening their belts, as the savage
does when he is hungry.

"To the Rhine, then," said Greusel, springing across the little stream
in company with Ebearhard.

"You did that very well, Greusel," complimented the latter.

"I would rather have gone alone with you," replied the new leader, "for
I have condemned myself to wear this heavy cloak, which is all very well
to sleep in, but burdensome under a hot sun."

"The sun won't be so oppressive," predicted his friend, "while we keep
to the forest."

"That is very true, but remember we are somewhere in the Rheingau, and
that we must come out into the vineyards by and by."

"Don't grumble, Greusel, but hold up your head as a great diplomatist.
Roland himself could not have managed these chaps so well, you flaunting
hypocrite, the only capitalist amongst us, yet talking as if you were a
monk sworn to eternal poverty."

Greusel changed the subject.

"Do you notice," he said, "that we are following some sort of path,
which we must have trodden last evening, without seeing it in the dusk."

"I imagine," said Ebearhard, "that Roland knew very well where he was
going. He strode along ahead of us as if sure of his ground. I don't
doubt but this will lead us to Assmannshausen."

Which, it may be remarked, it did not. The path was little more than a
trail, which a sharp-eyed man might follow, and it led up-hill and down
dale direct to the Archbishop's Castle of Ehrenfels.

The forest lasted for a distance that the men in front estimated to be
about two leagues, then they emerged into open country, and saw the
welcome vines growing. Climbing out of the valley, they observed to the
right, near the top of a hill, a small hamlet, which had the effect of
instantaneously raising the spirits of the woebegone company.

"Hooray for breakfast!" they shouted, and had it not been for their own
fatigue, and the steepness of the hill, they would have broken into a
run.

"Halt!" cried Greusel sternly, standing before and above them. At once
they obeyed the word of command, which caused Ebearhard to smile.

"You will climb to the top of this hill," said Greusel, "and there rest
under command of my lieutenant, Ebearhard. As we now emerge into
civilization, I warn you that if we are to obtain breakfast it must be
by persuasion, and not by force. Therefore, while you wait on the
hilltop, I shall go alone into the houses on the right, and see what can
be done towards providing a meal for eighteen men. Ebearhard and I will
fast until we reach Assmannshausen. On the other hand, you should be
prepared for disappointment; loaves of bread are not to be picked up on
the point of a sword. If I return and order you to march on unfed, you
must do so as cheerfully as you can."

This ultimatum called forth not a word of opposition, and Ebearhard led
the van while Greusel deflected up the hill to his right, the sooner to
reach the village.

He learned that the name of the place was Anton-Kap; that the route he
had been following would take him to Ehrenfels, and that he must adopt a
reasonably rough mountain-road to the right in order to reach
Assmannshausen.

By somewhat straining the resources of the place, which proved to
possess no inn, he collected bread enough for the eighteen, and there
was no dearth of wine, although it proved a coarse drink that reflected
little credit on the reputation of the Rheingau. He paid for this meal
in advance, saying that they were all in a hurry to reach
Assmannshausen, and wished to leave as soon as the frugal breakfast was
consumed.

Mounting a small elevation to the west of the village, he signaled to
the patient men to come on, which they lost no time in doing. The bread
was eaten and the wine drunk without a word being said by any one. And
now they took their way down the hill again, crossed the little
Geisenheim stream, and up once more, traversing a high table-land giving
them a view of the Rhine, finally descending through another valley,
which led them into Assmannshausen, celebrated for its red wine, a color
they had not yet met with.

Assmannshausen proved to be a city as compared with the hamlets they had
passed, yet was small enough to make a thorough search of the place a
matter that consumed neither much effort nor time. Greusel led his men
to a _Weinstaube_ a short distance out of the village, and, to their
delight, succeeded in establishing a credit for them to the extent of
one liter of wine each, with a substantial meal of meat, eggs, and
what-not. Greusel and Ebearhard left them there in the height of great
enjoyment, all the more delightful after the hunger and fatigue they had
encountered, for the three and a half leagues had proved almost without
a single stretch of level land. The two officers inquired for Roland,
without success, at the various houses of entertainment which
Assmannshausen boasted, then canvassed every home in the village, but no
one had seen anything of the man they described.

Coming out to the river front, deeply discouraged, the two gazed across
the empty water, from which all enlivening traffic had departed. It was
now evident to both that Roland had not entered Assmannshausen, for in
so small and gossipy a hamlet no stranger could even have passed through
without being observed.

"Well, Joseph," asked Ebearhard, "what do you intend to do?"

"There is nothing to do but to wait until our money is gone. It is
absolutely certain that Roland is not here. Can it be possible that
after all he returned?"

"How could he have done so? We know him to have been without money;
therefore why to Frankfort, even if such a trip were possible for a
penniless man?"

"I am sorry now," said Greusel despondently, "that I did not follow a
suggestion that occurred to me, which was to take the men direct down
the valley where we encamped, to the banks of the Rhine, and there make
inquiries."

"You think he went that way?"

"I did, until you persuaded me out of it."

"Again I ask what could be his object?"

"It seems to me that this mutiny made a greater impression on his mind
than I had supposed. After all, he is not one of us, and never has been.
You yourself pointed that out when we were talking of him at
Breckenheim. If you caught glances of contempt for us while we were all
one jolly family in the Kaiser cellar, what must be his loathing for the
guild after such a day as yesterday?"

"That's true. You must travel with a man before you learn his real
character."

"Meaning Roland?"

"Meaning this crew, guzzling up at the tavern. Meaning you, meaning me;
yes, and meaning Roland also. I never knew until yesterday and to-day
what a capable fellow you were, and when I remember that I nominated
Kurzbold for our leader before Roland appeared on the scene, I am amazed
at my lack of judgment of men. As for Roland himself, my opinion of him
has fallen. Nothing could have persuaded me that he would desert us all
without a word of explanation, no matter what happened. My predictions
regarding his conduct are evidently wrong. What do you think has
actually occurred?"

"It's my opinion that the more he thought over the mutiny, the angrier
he became; a cold, stubborn anger, not vocal at all, as Kurzbold's would
be. I think that after fastening the money to my belt he went down the
valley to the Rhine. He knows the country, you must remember. He would
then either wait there until the barge appeared, or more likely would
proceed up along the margin of the river, and hail the boat when it came
in sight. The captain would recognize him, and turn in, and we know the
captain is under his command. At this moment they are doubtless poling
slowly up the Rhine to the Main again, and will thus reach Frankfort.
Herr Goebel has confidence in Roland, otherwise he would never have
risked so much on his bare word. He will confess to his financier that
he has been mistaken in us, and doubtless tell him all that happened,
and the merchant will appreciate that, even though he has lost his five
hundred thalers, Roland would not permit him to lose his goods as well."

"Do you suppose Roland will enlist another company?"

"It is very likely, for Herr Goebel trusts him, and, goodness knows,
there are enough unemployed men in Frankfort for Roland to select a
better score than we have proved to be."

It was quite certain that Roland was not in Assmannshausen, yet Greusel
was a prophet as false as Ebearhard.




IX

A SOLEMN PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE


When Roland wrapped his cloak about him, and lay down on the sward at
some distance from the spot where his officers already slept, he found
that he could not follow their example. Although, he had remained
outwardly calm when the attack was made upon him, his mind was greatly
perturbed over the outlook. He reviewed his own conduct, wondering
whether it would be possible for him so to amend it that he could
acquire the respect and maintain the obedience of his men. If he could
not accomplish this, then was his plan foredoomed to failure. His
cogitations drove away sleep, and he called to mind the last occasion on
which he made this same spot his bedroom. Then he had slumbered
dreamlessly the night through. He was on the direct trail between
Ehrenfels Castle and the town of Wiesbaden, the route over which
supplies had been carried to the Castle time and again when the
periodical barges from Mayence failed to arrive. It had been pointed out
to him by the custodian of the Castle when the young man first became
irked by the confined limits of the Schloss, and frequently since that
time he had made his way through the forest to Wiesbaden and back.

Never before had he seen the little Walluf so boisterous, pretending
that it was important, and he quite rightly surmised that the cause was
a sudden downpour in the mountains farther east. The distant mutterings
of thunder having long since ceased, he recognized that the volume of
the stream was constantly lessening. As the brook gradually subsided to
its customary level, the forest became more and more silent. The greater
his endeavor to sleep, the less dormant Roland felt, and all his senses
seemed unduly quickened by this ineffectual beckoning to somnolence. He
judged by the position of the stars, as he lay on his back, that it was
past midnight, when suddenly he became aware of a noise to the west of
him, on the other side of the brook. Sitting up, and listening intently,
he suspected, from the rustle of the underbrush, that some one was
following the trail, and would presently come upon his sleeping men.

He rose stealthily, unsheathed his sword, leaped across the rivulet, and
proceeded with caution up the acclivity, keeping on the trail as best he
could in the darkness. He was determined to learn the business of the
wayfarer, without disturbing his men, so crept rapidly up the hill.
Presently he saw the glimmer of a light, and conjectured that some one
was coming impetuously down, guided by a lanthorn swinging in his hand.
Roland stood on guard with sword extended straight in front of him, and
the oncomer's breast was almost at the point of it when he hauled
himself up with a sudden cry of dismay, as the lanthorn revealed an
armed man holding the path.

"I have no money," were the first words of the stranger.

"Little matter for that," replied Roland. "'Tis information I wish, not
gear. Why are you speeding through the forest at night, for no sane man
traverses this path in the darkness?"

"I could not wait for daylight," said the stranger, breathing heavily.
"I carry a message of the greatest importance. Do not delay me, I beg of
you. I travel on affairs of State; Imperial matters, and it is necessary
I should reach Frankfort in time, or heads may fall."

"So serious as that?" asked Roland, lowering the point of his sword, for
he saw the messenger was unarmed. "Whom do you seek?"

"That I dare not tell you. The message concerns those of the highest,
and I am pledged to secrecy. Be assured, sir, that I speak the truth."

"Your voice sounds honest. Hold up the lanthorn at arm's length, that I
may learn if your face corresponds with it. Ha, that is most
satisfactory! And now, my hurrying youth, will you reveal your mission,
or shall I be compelled to run my sword through your body?"

"You would not learn it even then," gasped the young man, shrinking
still farther up the hill.

Roland laughed.

"That is true enough," he said, "therefore shall I not impale you, but
will instead relate to you the secret you carry. You are making not for
Frankfort--"

"I assure you, sir, by the sacred Word, that I am, and grieve my oath
does not allow me to do your bidding, even though you would kill me,
which is easily done, since I am unarmed."

"You pass through Frankfort, I doubt not, but your goal is a certain
small room in the neighboring suburb of Sachsenhausen, and he whom you
seek is a youth of about your own age, named Roland. You travel on the
behest of your father, who was much agonized in mind when you left him,
and he, I take it, is custodian of Ehrenfels Castle."

"In God's name!" cried the youth, aghast, "how did you guess all that?"

Again Roland laughed quietly.

"Why, Heinrich," he said, "your agitation causes you to forget old
friends. Hold up your lanthorn again, and learn whether or not you
recognize me, as I recognized you."

"Heaven be praised! Prince Roland!"

"Yes; your journey is at an end, my good Heinrich, thank the fortune
that kept me awake this night. Do you know why you are sent on this long
and breathless journey?"

"Yes, Highness. There has come to the Castle from the Archbishop of
Mayence a lengthy document for you to sign, and you are informed that
the day after to-morrow their Lordships of Mayence, Treves, and Cologne,
meet together at the Castle to hold some conversation with you."

"By my sword, then, Heinrich, had you found me in Sachsenhausen we had
never attained Ehrenfels in time."

"I think I could have accomplished it," replied the young man. "I should
have reached Wiesbaden before daybreak, and there bought the fastest
horse that could be found. My father told me to time myself, and if by
securing another horse at Frankfort for you I could not make the return
journey speedily enough, I was to engage a boat with twenty rowers, if
necessary, and convey you to Ehrenfels before the Archbishops arrived."

"Then, Heinrich, you must have deluded me when you said you had no
money."

"No, Highness, I have none, but I carry an order for plenty upon a
merchant in Wiesbaden, who would also supply me with a horse."

"Heinrich, there are many stars burning above us to-night, and I have
been watching them, but your star must be blazing the brightest of all.
Sit you down and rest until I return. Make no noise, for there are
twenty others asleep by the stream. My cloak is at the bottom of the
hill, and I must fetch it. I shall be with you shortly, so keep your
candle alight, that I may not miss you."

With that Roland returned rapidly down the slope, untying his bag of
money as he descended. Cautiously he fastened it to the belt of Greusel,
then, snatching his cloak from the ground, he sprang once more across
the stream, and climbed to the waiting Heinrich.

It was broad daylight before they saw the towers of Ehrenfels, and they
found little difficulty in rousing Heinrich's father, for he had slept
as badly that night as Roland himself.

The caretaker flung his arms around the young prisoner.

"Oh, thank God, thank God!" was all he could cry, and "Thank God!" again
he repeated. "Never before have I felt my head so insecure upon my
shoulders. Had you not been here when they came, Highness, their
Lordships would have listened to no explanation."

"Really you were in little danger with such a clever son. The
Archbishops would never have suspected that he was not I, for none of
the three has ever seen me. I am quite sure Heinrich would have effected
my signature excellently, and answered to their satisfaction all
questions they might ask. So long as he complied with their wishes,
there would be no inquiries set afoot, for none would suspect the
change. Indeed, custodian, you have missed the opportunity of your life
in not suppressing me, thus allowing your son to be elected Emperor."

"Your Highness forgets that my poor boy cannot write his own name, much
less yours. Besides, it would be a matter of high treason to forge your
signature, so again I thank God you are here. Indeed, your Highness, I
am in great trouble about my son."

"Oh, the danger is not so serious as you think."

"'Tis not the danger, Highness. That it is his duty to face, but he
takes advantage of his position as prisoner. He knows I dare refuse him
nothing, and he calls for wine, wine, wine, spending his days in revelry
and his nights in stupor."

"You astonish me. Why not cudgel the nonsense out of him? Your arm is
strong enough."

"I dare not lay stick on him, and I beg you to breathe nothing of what I
have told you, for he holds us both in his grasp, and he knows it. If I
called for help to put him in a real dungeon, he would blurt out the
whole secret."

"In that case you must even make terms with him. 'Twill be for but a
very short time, and after that we will reform him. He was frightened
enough of my sword in the forest, and I shall make him dance to its
point once this crisis is over."

"I shall do the best I can, Highness. But you must have been on your way
to Ehrenfels. Had you heard aught of what is afoot?"

"Nothing. 'Twas mere chance that Heinrich and I met in the forest, and
he was within a jot of impinging himself upon my sword in his hurry. I
stood in the darkness, while he himself held a light for the better
convenience of any chance marauder who wished to undo him."

"Unarmed, and without money," said the custodian, "I thought he was
safer than otherwise. But you are surely hungry, Highness. Advance then
within, and I will see to your needs."

So presently the errant Prince consumed an excellent, if early
breakfast, and, without troubling to undress, flung himself upon a
couch, sleeping dreamlessly through the time that Greusel and Ebearhard
were conjuring up motives for him, of which he was entirely innocent.

When Roland woke in the afternoon, he had quite forgotten that a score
of men who, nominally, at least, acknowledged him master, were wondering
what had become of him. He called the custodian, and asked for a sight
of the parchments that his Lordship of Mayence had sent across the river
for his perusal. He found the documents to be a very carefully written
series of demands disguised under the form of requests.

The pledges which were asked of the young Prince were beautifully
engrossed on three parchments, each one a duplicate of the other two. If
Roland accepted them, they were to be signed next day, in presence of
the three Archbishops. Two certainties were impressed upon him when he
had read the scroll: first, the Archbishops were determined to rule; and
second, if he did not promise to obey they would elect some other than
himself Emperor on the death or deposition of his father. The young man
resolved to be acquiescent and allow the future to settle the question
whether he or the Archbishops should be the head of the Empire. A
strange exultation filled him at the prospect, and all thought of other
things vanished from his mind.

Leaving the parchments on the table in the knights' hall, where he had
examined them, he mounted to the battlements to enjoy the fresh breeze
that, no matter how warm the day, blows round the towers of Ehrenfels.
Here a stone promenade, hung high above the Rhine, gave a wonderful view
up and down the river and along the opposite shore. From this elevated,
paved plateau he could see down the river the strongholds of Rheinstein
and Falkenberg, and up the river almost as far as Mayence. He judged by
the altitude of the sun that it was about four o'clock in the afternoon.
The sight of Rheinstein should have suggested to him his deserted
company, for that was the first castle he intended to attack, but the
prospect opened up to him by the communication of the Archbishops had
driven everything else from his mind.

Presently the cautious custodian joined him in his eyrie, and Roland
knew instinctively why he had come. The old man was wondering whether or
not he would make difficulties about signing the parchments. He feared
the heedless impetuosity and conceit of youth; the natural dislike on
the part of a proud young prince to be restricted and bound down by his
elders, and the jailer could not conceal his gratification when the
prisoner informed him that of course he would comply with the desires of
the three prelates.

"You see," he continued, with a smile, "I must attach my signature to
those instruments in order to make good my promises to you."

He was interrupted by a cry of astonishment from his aged comrade.

"Will wonders never cease!" cried the old man. "Those merchants in
Frankfort must be irredeemable fools. Look you there, Highness! Do you
see that barge coming down the river, heavily laden, as I am a sinner,
for she lies low in the water. It is one of the largest of the Frankfort
boats, and those hopeful simpletons doubtless imagine they can make
their way through to Cologne with enough goods left to pay for the
journey. 'Tis madness! Why, the knights of Rheinstein and Falkenberg
alone will loot them before they are out of our sight. If they think to
avoid those rovers by hugging our shore, their mistake will be apparent
before they have gone far."

Roland gazed at the approaching craft, and instantly remembered that he
was responsible for its appearance on the Rhine. He recognized Herr
Goebel's great barge, with its thick mast in the prow, on which no sail
was hoisted because the wind blew upstream. On recollecting his deserted
men, he wondered whether or not Greusel had brought them across the
hills to Assmannshausen. Had they yet discovered that Joseph carried the
bag of gold? He laughed aloud as he thought of the scrimmage that would
ensue when this knowledge came to them. But little as he cared for the
eighteen, he experienced a pang of regret as he estimated the
predicament in which both Greusel and Ebearhard had stood on learning he
had left them without a word. Still, even now he could not see how any
explanation on his part was possible without revealing his identity, and
that he was determined not to do.

Turning round, he said abruptly to the custodian:

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