The Sword Maker by Robert Barr

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"Were the seven hundred thalers paid to you each month?"

"Of a surety," was the reply.

"That will be two thousand one hundred thalers altogether. Did you spend
the money?"

"I have not touched a single coin. That amount is yours, and yours
alone, Prince Roland. If I have been of service I am quite content to
wait for my reward, or should I not be here, I know you will remember my
family."

"May the Lord forget me if I don't. Still, the twenty-one hundred
thalers are all yours, remember, but I beg of you to lend me a thousand,
for I possess not a single gold piece in my bag. Indeed, if it comes to
that, I do not possess even a bag. I had two yesterday, but one I gave
away and the other I threw away."

The old man hurried down, and presently returned with the bag of money
that Roland had asked of him. Before this happened, however, Roland,
watching the barge, saw it round to, and tie up at the shore some
distance above Assmannshausen. He took the gold, and passed down the
stone stair to the courtyard.

"I shall return," he said, "before the sun sets," and without more ado,
this extraordinary captive left his prison, and descended the hill in
the direction of the barge.

After greeting Captain Blumenfels, he learned that the boat had been
delayed by running on a sandbank in the Main during the night, but they
had got it off at daybreak, and here they were. As, standing on the
shore, Roland talked with the captain on the barge, he saw approaching
from Assmannshausen two men whom he recognized. Telling the captain he
might not be ready for several days, he walked along the shore to meet
his astonished friends, who, as was usual with them, jumped at an
erroneous conclusion, and supposed that he arrived on the barge which
they had seen rounding to for the purpose of taking up her berth by the
river-bank.

Greusel and Ebearhard stood still until he came up to them.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. Are you here alone, or have you brought the
mob with you?"

"Your capable lieutenant, sir," said Ebearhard, before his slower
companion could begin to frame a sentence, "allowed the men to think
they were having their own way, but in reality diverted them into his,
so they are now enjoying a credit of one liter each at the tavern of the
Golden Anker."

"That," said Roland, "is but as a drop of water in a parched desert.
Have they discovered you hold the money, Greusel?"

"No, not yet; but I fear they will begin to suspect by and by. I suppose
you went down the valley of the brook to the Rhine, and overhauled the
barge there?"

"I suppose so," said Roland. "What else did you think I could do?"

"I was sure you had done that, but I feared you would turn the barge
back to Frankfort."

"I never thought of such a thing. Indeed, the captain told me he met
difficulty enough navigating the shallow Main, and I think he prefers
the deeper Rhine. Of course, you know why I left you."

The men looked at each other without reply, and Roland laughed.

"I see you have been harboring dark suspicions, but the case is very
simple. The pious monks tell us that the Scriptures say if a man asks us
to go one league with him, we should go two. My good friends of the
guild last night made a most reasonable request, namely, that I should
bestow upon them three thalers each, and surely, to quote the monks
again, the laborer is worthy of his hire."

"Oh, that is the way you look upon it, then," said Greusel.

"From a scriptural point of view, yes; and I am going to better the
teachings of my young days by giving each of the men ten times the
amount he desired. Thirty thalers each are waiting in this bag for
them."

"By my sword!" cried Ebearhard, "if that isn't setting a premium on
mutiny it comes perilously close."

"Not so, Ebearhard; not so. You and Greusel did not mutiny, therefore to
each of you I give a hundred and thirty thalers, which is the thirty
thalers the mutineers receive, and a hundred thalers extra, as a reward
of virtue because you did not join them. After all, there is much to be
said for the men's point of view. I had led them ruthlessly under a
burning July sun, along a rough and shadeless road, then dragged them
away from the ample wine-vaults of Sonnenberg; next guided them on
through brambles, over streams, into bogs and out again; and lastly,
when they were dog-tired, hungry and ill-tempered, I carelessly pointed
to a section of the landscape, and said, 'There, my dear chaps, is your
bedroom'; lads who had never before slept without blankets and a roof.
No wonder they mutinied; but even then, by the love of God for His
creatures, they did not actually attack me when I stood up with drawn
sword in my hand."

"Of course you have that at least to be thankful for," said Ebearhard.
"Eighteen to one was foul odds."

"I be thankful! Surely you are dreaming, Ebearhard. Why should I be
thankful, except that I escaped the remorse for at least killing a dozen
of them!"

Ebearhard laughed heartily.

"Oh, if so sure of yourself as all that, you need no sympathy from me."

"You thought I would be outmatched? By the Three Kings! do you imagine
me such a fool as to teach you artisans the higher qualities of the
sword? There would have been a woeful surprise for the eighteen had they
ventured another step farther. However, that's all past and done with,
and we'll say no more about it. Let us sit down here on the sward, and
indulge in the more agreeable recreation of counting money."

He spread his cloak on the grass, and poured out the gold upon it.

"I am keeping two hundred thalers for myself, as leader of the
expedition, and covetous. Here are your hundred and thirty thalers,
Greusel, and yours, Ebearhard. You will find remaining five hundred and
forty, which, if divided with reasonable accuracy, should afford thirty
thalers to each of our precious eighteen."

"Aren't you coming with us to Assmannshausen, that you may give this
money to the men yourself?" asked Greusel.

"No; that pleasure falls to my lieutenants, first and second. One may
divide the money while the other delivers the moral lecture against
mutiny, illustrated by the amount that good behavior gains. Say nothing
to the men about the barge being here, merely telling them to prepare
for action. Now that you are in funds, engage a large room, exclusively
for yourselves, at the Golden Anker. Thus you will be the better able to
keep the men from talking with strangers, and so prevent any news of our
intentions drifting across the river to Rheinstein or Falkenberg. You
might put it to them, should they object to the special room, that you
are reconstituting, as it were, the Kaiser cellar of Frankfort in the
village of Assmannshausen. Go forward, therefore, with your usual
meetings of the guild, as it was before I lowered its tone by becoming a
member. Knowing the lads as I do, I suggest that you make your bargain
with them before you deliver the money. No promise; no thirty thalers.
And now, good-by. I shall be exceedingly busy for some days arranging
for a further supply of money, so do not seek me out no matter what
happens."

With this Roland shook hands, and returned to Ehrenfels Castle.

* * * * *

The three sumptuous barges of the Archbishops hove in sight at midday,
two coming up the river and one floating down. They maneuvered to the
landing so that all reached it at the same time, and thus the three
Archbishops were enabled to set foot simultaneously on the firm ground,
as was right and proper, no one of them obtaining precedence over the
other two. On entering the Castle of Ehrenfels in state, they proceeded
to the large hall of the knights, and seated themselves in three equal
chairs that were set along the solid table. Here a repast was spread
before them, accompanied by the finest wine the Rheingau produced, and
although the grand prelates ate lustily, they were most sparing in their
drink, for when they acted in concert none dared risk putting himself at
a disadvantage with the others. They would make up for their abstinence
when each rested in the security of his own castle.

The board being cleared, Roland was summoned, and bowing deeply to each
of the three he took his place, modestly standing on the opposite side
of the table. The Archbishop of Mayence, as the oldest of the trio,
occupied the middle chair; Treves, the next in age, at his right hand,
and Cologne at his left. A keen observer might have noticed that the
deferential, yet dignified, bearing of the young Prince made a favorable
impression upon these rulers who, when they acted together, formed a
power that only nominally was second in the realm.

It was Mayence who broke the silence.

"Prince Roland, some months ago turbulence in the State rendered it
advisable that you, as a probable nominee to the throne, should be
withdrawn from the capital to the greater safety which this house
affords. I hope it has never been suggested to you that this unavoidable
detention merited the harsh name of imprisonment?"

"Never, your Lordships," said Roland, with perfect truth.

The three slightly inclined their heads, and Mayence continued:

"I trust that in the carrying out of our behests you have been put to no
inconvenience during your residence in my Castle of Ehrenfels, but if
you find cause for complaint I shall see to it that the transgressor is
sharply punished."

"My Lord, had such been the case I should at once have communicated with
your Lordship at Mayence. The fact that you have received no such
protest from me answers your question, but I should like to add emphasis
to this reply by saying I have met with the greatest courtesy and
kindness within these walls."

"I speak for my brothers and myself when I assert we are all gratified
to hear the expression that has fallen from your lips. There was sent
for your perusal a document in triplicate. Have you found time to read
it?"

"Yes, my Lord, and I beg to state at once that I will sign it with the
greater pleasure since in any case, if called to the high position you
propose, I should have consulted your Lordships on every matter that I
deemed important enough to be worthy of your attention, and in no
instance could I think of setting up my own opinion against the united
wisdom of your Lordships."

For a few minutes there ensued a whispered conversation among the three,
then Mayence spoke again:

"Once more I voice the sentiments of my colleagues, Prince Roland, when
I assure you that the words you have just spoken give us the utmost
satisfaction. In the whole world to-day there is no prouder honor than
that which it is in the Electors' power to bestow upon you, and it is a
blessed augury for the welfare of our country when the energy and
aspiration of youth in this high place associates itself with the
experience of age."

Here he made a signal, and the aged custodian, who had been standing
with his back against the door, well out of earshot, for the
conversation was carried on in the most subdued and gentle tones,
hurried forward, and Mayence requested him to produce the documents
entrusted to his care. These were spread out before the young man, who
signed each of them amidst a deep silence, broken only by the scratching
of the quill.

Up to this point Roland had been merely a Prince of the Empire; now, to
all practical purposes, he was heir-apparent to the throne. This
distinction was delicately indicated by Mayence, who asked the attendant
to bring forward a chair, and then requested the young man to seat
himself. Roland had supposed the ceremonies at an end, but it was soon
evident that something further remained, for the three venerable heads
were again in juxtaposition, and apparently there was some whispered
difference as to the manner of procedure. Then Cologne, as the youngest
of the three, was prevailed upon to act as spokesman, and with a smile
he regarded the young man before he began.

"I reside farther than my two colleagues from your fair, if turbulent,
city of Frankfort, and perhaps that is one reason why I know little of
the town and its ways from personal observation. You are a young man
who, I may say, has greatly commended himself to us all, and so in
whatever questions I may put, you will not, I hope, imagine that there
is anything underneath them which does not appear on the surface."

Roland drew a long breath, and some of the color left his face.

"What in the name of Heaven is coming now," he said to himself, "that
calls for so ominous a prelude? It must be something more than usually
serious. May the good Lord give me courage to face it!"

But outwardly he merely inclined his head.

"We have all been young ourselves, and I trust none of us forget the
temptations, and perhaps the dangers, that surround youth, especially
when highly placed. I am told that Frankfort is a gay city, and
doubtless you have mixed, to some extent at least, in its society." Here
the Archbishop paused, and, as he evidently expected a reply, Roland
spoke:

"I regret to say, my Lord, that my opportunities for social intercourse
have hitherto been somewhat limited. Greatly absorbed in study, there
has been little time for me to acquire companions, much less friends."

"What your Highness says, so far from being a drawback, as you seem to
imagine, is all to the good. It leaves the future clear of complications
that might otherwise cause you embarrassment." Here the Archbishop
smiled again, and Roland found himself liking the august prelate. "It
was not, however, of men that I desired to speak, but of women."

"Oh, is that all?" cried the impetuous youth. "I feared, my Lord, that
you were about to treat of some serious subject. So far as women are
concerned, I am unacquainted with any, excepting only my mother."

At this the three prelates smiled in differing degrees; even the stern
lips of Mayence relaxing at the young man's confident assumption that
consideration of women was not a matter of importance.

"Your Highness clears the ground admirably for me," continued Cologne,
"and takes a great weight from my mind, because I am entrusted by my
brethren with a proposal which I have found some difficulty in setting
forth. It is this. The choice of an Empress is one of the most momentous
questions that an Emperor is called upon to decide. In all except the
highest rank personal preference has much to do with the selection of a
wife, but in the case of a king do you agree with me that State
considerations must be kept in view?"

"Undoubtedly, my Lord."

"This is a matter to which we three Electors have given the weightiest
consideration, finally agreeing on one whom we believe to possess the
necessary qualifications; a lady highly born, deeply religious,
enormously wealthy, and exceedingly beautiful. She is related to the
most noble in the land. I refer to Hildegunde Lauretta Priscilla Agnes,
Countess of Sayn. If there is any reason why your preference should not
coincide with ours, I beg you quite frankly to state it."

"There is no reason at all, your Lordships," cried Roland, with a deep
sigh of relief on learning that his fears were so unfounded. "I shall be
most happy and honored to wed the lady at any time your Lordships and
she may select."

"Then," said the Archbishop of Mayence, rising to his feet and speaking
with great solemnity, "you are chosen as the future Emperor of our
land."

X

A CALAMITOUS CONFERENCE

The prelate and his ward were met at the doors of Stolzenfels by the
Archbishop of Treves in person, and the welcome they received left
nothing to be desired in point of cordiality. There were many servants,
male and female, about the Castle, but no show of armed men.

The Countess was conducted to a room whose outlook fascinated her. It
occupied one entire floor of a square tower, with windows facing the
four points of the compass, and from this height she could view the
Rhine up to the stern old Castle of Marksburg, and down past Coblentz to
her own realm of Sayn, where it bordered the river, although the
stronghold from which she ruled this domain was hidden by the hills
ending in Ehrenbreitstein.

When she descended on being called to _mittagessen_, she was introduced
to a sister of the Archbishop of Treves, a grave, elderly woman, and to
the Archbishop's niece, a lady about ten years older than Hildegunde.
Neither of these grand dames had much to say, and the conversation at
the meal rested chiefly with the two Archbishops. Indeed, had the
Countess but known it, her presence there was a great disappointment to
the two noblewomen, for the close relationship of the younger to the
Archbishop of Treves rendered it impossible that she should be offered
the honor about to be bestowed upon the younger and more beautiful
Countess von Sayn.

The Archbishop of Mayence, although a resident of the Castle, partook of
refreshment in the smallest room of the suite reserved for him, where he
was waited upon by his own servants and catered for by his own cook.

When the great Rhine salmon, smoking hot, was placed upon the table,
Cologne was generous in his praise of it, and related again, for the
information of his host and household, the story of the English Princess
who had partaken of a similar fish, doubtless in this same room. Despite
the historical bill of fare, and the mildly exhilarating qualities of
the excellent Oberweseler wine, whose delicate reddish color the
sentimental Archbishop compared to the blush on a bride's cheeks, the
social aspect of the midday refection was overshadowed by an almost
indefinable sense of impending danger. In the pseudogenial conversation
of the two Archbishops there was something forced: the attitude of the
elderly hostess was one of unrelieved gloom. After a few conventional
greetings to her young guest, she spoke no more during the meal. Her
daughter, who sat beside the Countess on the opposite side of the table
from his Lordship of Cologne, merely answered "Yes" or "No" to the
comments of the lady of Sayn praising the romantic situation of the
Castle, its unique qualities of architecture, and the splendid outlook
from its battlements, eulogies which began enthusiastically enough, but
finally faded away into silence, chilled by a reception so unfriendly.

Thus cast back upon her own thoughts, the girl grew more and more uneasy
as the peculiar features of the occasion became clearer in her own mind.
Here was her revered, beloved friend forcing hilarity which she knew he
could not feel, breaking bread and drinking wine with a colleague while
three thousand of his armed men peered down on the roof that sheltered
him, ready at a signal to pounce upon Stolzenfels like birds of prey,
capturing, and if necessary, slaying. She remembered the hearty cheers
that welcomed them on their arrival at Coblentz, yet every man who thus
boisterously greeted them, waving his bonnet in the air, was doubtless
an enemy. The very secrecy, the unknown nature of the danger, depressed
her more and more as she thought of it; the fierce soldiers hidden in
the forest, ready to leap up, burn and kill at an unknown sign from a
Prince of religion; the deadly weapons concealed in a Church of Christ:
all this grim reality of a Faith she held dear had never been hinted at
by the gentle nuns among whom she lived so happily for the greater part
of her life.

At last her somber hostess rose, and Hildegunde, with a sigh of relief,
followed her example. The Archbishop of Cologne gallantly held back the
curtain at the doorway, and bowed low when the three ladies passed
through. The silent hostess conducted her guest to a parlor on the same
floor as the dining-room; a parlor from which opened another door
connecting it with a small knights' hall; the _kleine Rittersaal_ in
which the Court of the Archbishops was to be held.

The Archbishop's sister did not enter the parlor, but here took formal
farewell of Countess von Sayn, who turned to the sole occupant of the
room, her kinsman and counselor, Father Ambrose.

"Were you not asked to dine with us?" she inquired.

"Yes; but I thought it better to refuse. First, in case the three
Archbishops might have something confidential to say to you; and second,
because at best I am poor company at a banquet."

"Indeed, you need not have been so thoughtful: first, as you say, there
were not three Archbishops present, but only two, and neither said
anything to me that all the world might not hear; second, the rest of
the company, the sister and the niece of Treves, were so doleful that
you would have proved a hilarious companion compared with them. Did my
guardian make any statement to you yesterday afternoon that revealed the
object of this coming Court?"

"None whatever. Our conversation related entirely to your estate and my
management of it. We spoke of crops, of cultivation, and of vineyards."

"You have no knowledge, then, of the reason why we are summoned hither?"

"On that subject, Hildegunde, I am as ignorant as you."

"I don't think I am wholly in the dark," murmured the Countess,
"although I know nothing definite."

"You surmise, in spite of your guardian's disclaimer, that the
discussion will pertain to your recovery of the town of Linz?"

"Perhaps; but not likely. Did you say anything of your journey to
Frankfort?"

"Not a word. I understood from you that no mention should be made of my
visit unless his Lordship asked questions proving he was aware of it, in
which case I was to tell the truth."

"You were quite right, Father. Did my guardian ask you to accompany us
to Stolzenfels?"

"Assuredly, or I should not have ventured."

"What reason did he give, and what instructions did he lay upon you?"

"He thought you should have by your side some one akin to you. His
instructions were that in no circumstances was I to offer any remark
upon the proceedings. Indeed, I am not allowed to speak unless in answer
to a question directly put to me, and then in the fewest possible
words."

Hildegunde ceased her cross-examination, and seated herself by a window
which gave a view of the steep mountain-side behind the Castle, where,
sheltered by the thick, dark forest, she knew that her guardian's men
lay in ambush. She shuddered slightly, wondering what was the meaning of
these preparations, and in the deep silence became aware of the
accelerated beating of her heart. She felt but little reassured by the
presence of her kinsman, whose lips moved without a murmur, and whose
grave eyes seemed fixed on futurity, meditating the mystery of the next
world, and completely oblivious to the realities of the earth he
inhabited.

She turned her troubled gaze once more to the green forest, and after a
long lapse of time the dual reveries were broken by the entrance of an
official gorgeously appareled. This functionary bowed low, and said with
great solemnity:

"Madam, the Court of my Lords the Archbishops awaits your presence."

* * * * *

The _kleine Rittersaal_ occupied a fine position on the river-side front
of Stolzenfels, its windows giving a view of the Rhine, with the strong
Castle of Lahneck over-hanging the mouth of the Lahn, and the more
ornamental Schloss Martinsburg at the upper end of Oberlahnstein. The
latter edifice, built by a former Elector of Mayence, was rarely
occupied by the present Archbishop, but, as he sat in the central chair
of the Court, he had the advantage of being able to look across the
river at his own house should it please him to do so.

The three Archbishops were standing behind the long table when the
Countess entered, thus acknowledging that she who came into their
presence, young and beautiful, was a very great lady by right of descent
and rank. She acknowledged their courtesy by a graceful inclination of
the head, and the three Princes of the Church responded each with a bow,
that of Mayence scarcely perceptible, that of Treves deferential and
courtly, that of Cologne with a friendly smile of encouragement.

In the center of the hall opposite the long table had been placed an
immense chair, taken from the grand _Rittersaal_, ornamented with gilded
carving, and covered in richly-colored Genoa velvet. It looked like a
throne, which indeed it was, used only on occasions when Royalty visited
the Castle. To this sumptuous seat the scarcely less gorgeous
functionary conducted the girl, and when she had taken her place, the
three Archbishops seated themselves. The glorified menial then bent
himself until his forehead nearly touched the floor, and silently
departed. Father Ambrose, his coarse, ill-cut clothes of somber color in
striking contrast to the richness of costume worn by the others, stood
humbly beside the chair that supported his kinswoman.

The Countess gave a quick glance at the Archbishop of Mayence, then
lowered her eyes. Cologne she had known all her life; Treves she had met
that day, and rather liked, although feeling she could not esteem him as
she did her guardian, but a thrill of fear followed her swift look at
the man in the center.

"A face of great strength," she said to herself, "but his thin, straight
lips, tightly compressed, seemed cruel, as well as determined." With a
flash of comprehension she understood now her guardian's warning not to
thwart him. It was easy to credit the acknowledged fact that this man
dominated the other two. Nevertheless, when he spoke his voice was
surprisingly mild.

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