The Sword Maker by Robert Barr

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"When my flag is hoisted on the staff of the main tower this flotilla
will be at the landing below us within half an hour. You doubtless have
made similar arrangements for bringing your three thousand down upon
Stolzenfels, but the gates of this Castle are now closed. Indeed,
Stolzenfels was put in condition to withstand a siege very shortly after
you and your ward entered it, and it is garrisoned by two hundred
fighting men, kindly provided at my suggestion by my brother of Treves.
I doubt if its capture is possible, even though you gave the signal,
which we will not allow. Of course, your plan of capturing Treves and
myself was a good one could it be carried out, for a man in jeopardy
will always compromise, and as I estimate you are in that position I
should be glad to know what arrangement you propose."

The Archbishop of Cologne did not reply, but stood with bent head and
frowning brow. It was the Countess von Sayn who, rising, spoke:

"My Lord Archbishop of Mayence," she said, "I could never forgive myself
if through action of mine a fatal struggle took place between my
countrymen. I have no desire to enact the part of Helen of Troy. I am
therefore ready and willing to be imprisoned, or to marry Prince Roland
of Frankfort, whichever alternative you command, so long as no
disadvantage comes to my friend, his Lordship of Cologne."

"Madam," said Mayence suavely, "there are not _now_ two alternatives, as
you suppose."

"In such case, your Highness, I betake myself instantly to Pfalz Castle,
and I ask that my guardian be allowed to escort me on the journey."

"Madam, your determination is approved, and your request granted, but,
as the business for which the three Electors were convened is not yet
accomplished, I request you to withdraw until such time as an agreement
has been arrived at. Father Ambrose is permitted to accompany you."

The gallant Elector of Treves sprang at once to his feet, pleading for
the privilege of conducting the Countess to the apartments of his sister
and her daughter. As the door to the ante-room opened the Elector of
Cologne, whose eyes followed his departing ward, did not fail to observe
that the lobby was thronged with armed men, and he realized now, if he
had not done so from Mayence's observation, how completely he was
trapped. Even had a hundred thousand of his soldiers stood in readiness
on the hills, it was impossible for him to give the signal bringing them
to his rescue.

A few minutes later the Elector of Treves returned, and took his place
at Mayence's right hand. The latter spoke as though the conference had
been unanimous and amiable.

"Now that we three are alone together, I think we shall discuss our
problems under a feeling of less apprehension if the small army in the
forest is bade God-speed on its way to Cologne. Such being the case," he
went on, turning to Cologne, "would you kindly write an order to that
effect to your commander. Inform him that we three Electors wish to
review your troops from the northern balcony, and bid them file past
from the hills to the river road. They are to cross the Moselle by the
old bridge, and so return to your city. You will perhaps pledge faith
that no signal will be made to your officers as they pass us. I make
this appeal with the greater confidence since you are well aware three
thousand men would but destroy themselves in any attempt to capture this
Castle, with an army of ten thousand on their flank to annihilate them.
Do you agree?"

"I agree," replied Cologne.

He wrote out the order required, and handed it to Mayence, who
scrutinized the document with some care before passing it on to Treves.
Mayence addressed Cologne in his blandest tones:

"Would you kindly instruct our colleague how to get that message safely
into the hands of your commander."

"If he will have it sent to the head of my small escort, ordering him to
take it directly up the hill behind this Castle until he comes to my
sentinels, whom he knows personally, they will allow him to pass
through, and deliver my written command to the officer in charge."

This being done, and Treves once more returned, Mayence said:

"I am sure we all realize that the Countess von Sayn, however admirable
in other respects, possesses an independent mind and a determined will
rendering her quite unsuited for the station we intended her to occupy.
I think her guardian must be convinced now, even though he had little
suspicion of it before, that this lady would not easily be influenced by
any considerations we might place before her. The regrettable incidents
of this conference have probably instilled into her mind a certain
prejudice against us."

Here, for the first time, the Elector of Cologne laughed.

"It is highly probable, my Lord," he said, "and, indeed, your moderate
way of putting the case is unanswerable. Her ladyship as an Empress
under our influence is out of the question. I therefore make a proposal
with some confidence, quite certain it will please you both. I venture
to nominate for the position of Empress that very demure and silent lady
who is niece of my brother the Elector of Treves."

Treves strangled a gasp in its birth, but could not suppress the light
of ambition that suddenly leaped into his eyes. The elevation of his
widowed sister's child to the Imperial throne was an advantage so
tremendous, and came about so unexpectedly, that for the moment his slow
brain was numbed by the glorious prospect. It seemed incredible that
Cologne had actually put forward such a proposition.

The eyes of Mayence veiled themselves almost to shutting point, but in
no other manner did emotion show. Like a flash his alert mind saw the
full purport of the bombshell Cologne had so carelessly tossed between
himself and his henchman. Cologne, having lost everything, had now
proved clever enough to set by the ears those who overruled him by their
united vote. If this girl were made Empress she would be entirely under
the influence of her uncle, of whose household she had been a pliant
member ever since childhood. Yet what was Mayence to do? Should he
object to the nomination, he would at once obliterate the unswerving
loyalty of Treves, and if this happened, Treves and Cologne, joining,
would outvote him, and his objection would prove futile. He would enrage
Treves without carrying his own point, and he knew that he held his
position only because of the dog-like fidelity of the weaker man. Slow
anger rose in his heart as he pictured the conditions of the future.
Whatever influence he sought to exert upon the Emperor by the indirect
assistance of the Empress, must be got at through the complacency of
Treves, who would gradually come to appreciate his own increased
importance.

All this passed through the mind of Mayence, and his decision had been
arrived at before Treves recovered his composure.

"It gives me great pleasure," said the Elector of Mayence, firmly
suppressing the malignancy of his glance towards the man seated on his
left,--"it gives me very great pleasure indeed to second so admirable a
nomination, the more so that I am thus permitted to offer my
congratulations to an esteemed colleague and a valued friend. My Lord of
Treves, I trust that you will make this nomination unanimous, for, to my
delight, his Lordship of Cologne anticipated, by a few moments the
proposal I was about to submit to you."

"My Lord," stammered Treves, finding his voice with difficulty,
"I--I--of course will agree to whatever the Court decides. I--I thank
you, my Lord, and you too, my brother of Cologne."

"Then," cried Mayence, almost joyfully, "the task for which we are
convened is accomplished, and I declare this Court adjourned."

He rose from his chair. The overjoyed Prince at his right took no
thought of the fact that their chairman had not called upon the lady
that she might receive the decision of the conclave and answer the
questions to be put to her, but Cologne perceived the omission, and knew
that from that moment Mayence would set his subtility at work to nullify
the nomination. Even though his bombshell had not exploded, and the two
other Electors were apparently greater friends than ever, Cologne had
achieved his immediate object, and was satisfied.

Through the open windows came the sound of the steady tramping of
disciplined men, and the metallic clash of armor and arms in transit.

"Ah, now," cried Mayence, "we will enjoy the advantage of reviewing the
brave troops of Cologne. Lead the way, my Lord of Treves. You know the
Castle better than we do."

The proud Treves, treading on air, guided his guests to the northern
balcony.

XI

GOLD GALORE THAT TAKES TO ITSELF WINGS

In the thick darkness Roland paced up and down the east bank of the
Rhine at a spot nearly midway between Assmannshausen and Ehrenfels. The
night was intensely silent, its stillness merely accentuated by the
gentle ripple of the water current against the barge's blunt nose, which
pointed upstream. Standing motionless as a statue, the massive figure of
Captain Blumenfels appeared in deeper blackness against the inky hills
on the other side of the Rhine. Long sweeps lay parallel to the bulwarks
of the barge, and stalwart men were at their posts, waiting the word of
command to handle these exaggerated oars, in defiance of wind and tide.
On this occasion, however, the tide only would be against them, for the
strong southern breeze was wholly favorable. Their voyage that night
would be short, but strenuous; merely crossing the river, and tying up
against the opposite bank; but the Rhine swirled powerfully round the
rock of Ehrenfels above them, and the men at the sweeps must pull
vigorously if they were not to be carried down into premature danger.

Roland, who when they left Frankfort was in point of time the youngest
member of the guild, now seemed, if one could distinguish him through
the gloom of the night, to have become years older, and there was an
added dignity in his bearing, for, although now but a potential
freebooter, he had received assurance that he would be eventually
elected Emperor.

He had sent word that morning to Greusel at the Golden Anker, bidding
him get together his men, and lead them up to the barge not later than
an hour before the moon rose, for Roland was anxious to reach the other
side of the Rhine unseen from either shore. He cautioned Greusel to make
his march a silent one, and this order Joseph at first found some
difficulty in carrying out, but in any case he need have entertained no
fear. The strong red wine of Assmannshausen is a potent liquid, and the
inhabitants of the town were accustomed to song and laughter on the one
street of the place at all hours of the night.

When they arrived, the men were quiet enough, and speedily stowed
themselves away in their quarters at the stern of the barge, whereupon
Roland, the last to spring aboard, waved his hand at the captain to cast
off. The nose of the boat was shoved away from land, and then the
powerful sweeps dipped into the water. Slowly but surely she made her
way across the river; silent and invisible from either bank. The
current, however, swept them down opposite the twinkling lights of
Assmannshausen, after which, in the more tranquil waters of the western
shore, they rowed steadily upstream for about half a league, and then,
with ropes tied round trees growing at the water's edge, laid up for the
remainder of the night.

Roland now counseled his company to enjoy what sleep was possible, as
they would be roused at the first glint of daybreak; so, with great
good-nature, each man wrapped himself up in his cloak and lay down on
the cabin floor.

When the eastern sky became gray, the slumberers were awakened, and a
ration of bread and wine served to each. The captain already had
received his instructions, and the men discarding their cloaks, followed
their leader into the still gloomy forest. Here, with as little noise as
might be, they climbed the steep wooded hill, and arriving at something
almost like a path, a hundred yards up from the river, they turned to
the right, and so marched, no man speaking above a whisper.

The forest became lighter and lighter, and at last Roland, holding up
his hand to sign caution, turned to the left from the path, and farther
up into the unbroken forest. They had traversed perhaps a league when
another silent order brought them to a standstill, and peering through
the trees to the east, the men caught glimpses of the grand, gray
battlements of that famous stronghold, Rheinstein, seeing at the corner
nearest them a square tower, next a machicolated curtain of wall, and a
larger square tower almost as high as the first hanging over the
precipice that descended to the Rhine. Inside this impregnable enclosure
rose the great bulk of the Castle itself, and near at hand the massive
square keep, with an octagonal turret on the southeast corner, the top
of which was the highest point of the stronghold, although a round tower
rising directly over the Rhine was not much lower.

Roland, advancing through the trees, but motioning his men to remain
where they were, peered across to the battlements and down at the
entrance gate.

Baron von Hohenfels sat so secure in his elevated robber's nest, which
he deemed invincible--and, indeed, the cliff on which it stood, nearly a
hundred yards high, made it so if approached from the Rhine--that he
kept only one man on watch, and this sentinel was stationed on the
elevated platform of the round tower. Roland saw him yawn wearily as he
leaned against his tall lance, and was glad to learn that even one man
kept guard, for at first he feared that all within the Castle were
asleep, the round tower, until Roland had shifted his position to the
north, being blotted out by the nearer square donjon keep. Now
satisfied, he signaled his men to sit down, which they did. He himself
took up a position behind a tree, where, unseen, he could watch the man
with the lance.

So indolent was the sentry that Roland began to fear the barge would
pass by unnoticed. Not for months had any sailing craft appeared on the
river, and doubtless the warden regarded his office as both useless and
wearisome. Brighter and brighter became the eastern sky, and at last a
tinge of red appeared above the hills across the silent Rhine. Suddenly
the guardian straightened up, then, shading his eyes with his right
hand, he leaned over the battlements, peering to the south. A moment
later the stillness was rent by a lusty shout, and the man disappeared
as if he had fallen through a trap-door. Presently the notes of a bugle
echoed within the walls, followed by clashes of armor and the buzzing
sound of men, as though a wasp's nest had been disturbed. Half a dozen
came into sight on top of the various towers and battlements, glanced at
the river, and vanished as hastily as the sentinel had done.

At last the gates came ponderously open, and the first three men to
emerge were on horseback, one of them hastily getting into an outer
garment, but the well-trained horses, who knew their business quite as
thoroughly as their riders, for they were accustomed to plunge into the
river if any barge disobeyed the order commanding it to halt, turned
from the gate, and dashed down the steep road that descended through the
forest. The men-at-arms poured forth with sword or pike, and in turn
went out of sight. They appeared to be leaderless, dashing forward in no
particular formation, yet, like the horses, they knew their business.
All this turmoil was not without its effect on Roland's following, who
edged forward on hands and knees to discover what was going on, everyone
breathless with excitement; but they saw their leader cool and
motionless, counting on his fingers the number of men who passed out,
for he knew exactly how many fighters the Castle contained.

"Not yet, not yet!" he whispered.

Finally three lordly individuals strode out; officers their more
resplendent clothing indicated them to be, and the trio followed the
others.

"Ha!" cried Roland, "old Baron Hugo drank too deeply last night to be so
early astir."

He was speaking aloud now.

"Take warning from that, my lads, and never allow wine to interfere with
business. Follow me, but cautiously, one after the other in single file,
and look to your footing. 'Tis perilous steep between here and the
gate;" and, indeed, so they found it, but all reached the level
forecourt in safety, and so through the open portal.

"Close and bar those gates," was the next command, instantly obeyed.

Down the stone steps of the Castle, puffing and grunting, came a
gigantic, obese individual, his face bloated with excess, his eyes
bleary with the lees of too much wine. He was struggling into his
doublet, assisted by a terrified old valet, and was swearing most
deplorably. Seeing the crowd at the gate, and half-blindly mistaking
them for his own men, he roared:

"What do you there, you hounds? To the river, every man of you, and
curse your leprous, indolent souls! Why in the fiend's name--" But here
he came to an abrupt stop on the lowest step, the sting of a sword's
point at his throat, and now, out of breath, his purple face became
mottled.

"Good morning to you, Baron Hugo von Hohenfels. These men whom you
address so coarsely obey no orders but mine."

"And who, imp of Satan, are you?" sputtered the old man.

"By profession a hangman. From our fastnesses in the hills, seeing a
barge float down the river, we thought it likely you would leave the
Castle undefended, and so came in to execute the Prince of Robbers."

The Baron was quaking like a huge jelly. It was evident that, although
noted for his cruelty, he was at heart a coward.

"You--you--you--" he stammered, "are outlaws! You are outlaws from the
Hunsruck."

"How clever of you, Baron, to recognize us at once. Now you know what to
expect. Greusel, unwind the rope I gave you last night. I will show you
its purpose."

Greusel did as he was requested without comment, but Ebearhard
approached closely to his chief, and whispered:

"Why resort to violence? We have no quarrel with this elephant. 'Tis his
gold we want, and to hang him is a waste of time."

"Hush, Ebearhard," commanded Roland sternly. "The greater includes the
less. I know this man, and am taking the quickest way to his
treasure-house."

Ebearhard fell back, but by this time the useful Greusel had made a loop
of the rope, and threw it like a cravat around the Baron's neck.

"No, no, no!" cried the frightened nobleman. "'Tis not my life you seek.
That is of no use to such as you; and, besides, I have never harmed the
outlaws."

"That is a lie," said Roland. "You sent an expedition against us just a
year ago."

"'Twas not I," protested Hohenfels, "but the pirate of Falkenberg.
Still, no matter. I'll buy my life from you. I am a wealthy man."

"How much?" asked Roland, hesitating.

"More than all of you can carry away."

"In gold?"

"Of a surety in gold."

"Where are the keys of your treasury?"

"In my chamber. I will bring them to you," and the Baron turned to mount
the steps again.

"Not so," cried Roland. "Stand where you are, and send your man for
them. If they are not here before I count twoscore, you hang, and
nothing will save you."

The Baron told the trembling valet where to find the keys.

"Greusel, you and Ebearhard accompany him, and at the first sign of
treachery, or any attempt to give an alarm, run him through with your
swords. Does your man know where the treasury is?" he continued to the
Baron.

"Oh, yes, yes!"

"How is your gold bestowed?"

"In leathern bags."

"Good. Greusel, take sixteen of the men, and bring down into the
courtyard all the gold you can carry. Then we will estimate whether or
not it is sufficient to buy the Baron's life, for I hold him in high
esteem. He is a valuable man. See to it that there is no delay, Greusel,
and never lose sight of this valet. Bring him back, laden with gold."

They all disappeared within the Castle, led by the old servitor.

"Sit you down, Baron," said Roland genially. "You seem agitated, for
which there is no cause should there prove to be gold enough to outweigh
you."

The ponderous noble seated himself with a weary sigh.

"And pray to the good Lord above us," went on Roland, "that your men may
not return before this transaction is completed, for if they do, my
first duty will be to strangle you. Even gold will not save you in that
case. But still, you have another chance for your life, should such an
untoward event take place. Shout to them through the closed gates that
they must return to the edge of the river until you join them; then, if
they obey, you are spared. Remember, I beg of you, the uselessness of an
outcry, for we are in possession of Rheinstein, and you know that the
Castle is unassailable from without."

The Baron groaned.

"Do not be hasty with your cord," he said dejectedly. "I will follow
your command."

The robbers, however, did not return, but the treasure-searchers did,
piling the bags in the courtyard, and again Hohenfels groaned dismally
at the sight. Roland indicated certain sacks with the point of his
sword, ordering them to be opened. Each was full of gold.

"Now, my lads," he cried, "oblige the Baron by burdening yourselves with
this weight of metal, then we shall make for the Hunsruck. Open the
gates. Lead the men to the point where we halted, Greusel, and there
await me."

The rich company departed, and Roland beguiled the time and the
weariness of the Baron by a light and interesting conversation to which
there was neither reply nor interruption. At last, having allowed time
for his band to reach their former halting-place, he took the rope from
the Baron's neck, tied the old robber's hands behind him, then bound his
feet, cutting the rope in lengths with his sword. He served the
trembling valet in the same way, shutting him up within the Castle, and
locking the door with the largest key in the bunch, which bunch he threw
down beside his lordship.

"Baron von Hohenfels," he said, "I have kept my word with you, and now
bid farewell. I leave you out-of-doors, because you seem rather scant of
breath, for which complaint fresh air is beneficial. Adieu, my lord
Baron."

The Baron said nothing as Roland, with a sweep of his bonnet, took leave
of him, climbed the steep path and joined his waiting men. He led them
along the hillside, through the forest for some distance, then descended
to the water's edge. The river was blank, so they all sat down under the
trees out of sight, leaving one man on watch. Here Roland spent a very
anxious half-hour, mitigated by the knowledge that the men of Rheinstein
were little versed in woodcraft, and so might not be able to trace the
fugitives. It was likely they would make a dash in quite the opposite
direction, towards the Hunsruck, because Hohenfels believed they were
outlaws from that district, and did not in any way associate them with
the plundered barge.

But if the robbers of Rheinstein took a fancy to sink the barge, an act
only too frequently committed, then were Roland and his company in a
quandary, without food, or means of crossing the river. However, he was
sure that Captain Blumenfels would follow his instructions, which were
to offer no resistance, but rather to assist the looters in their
exactions.

"Within a league," said Roland to his men, "stand three pirate castles:
Rheinstein, which we have just left; Falkenberg, but a short distance
below, and then Sonneck. If nothing happens to the barge, I expect to
finish with all three before nightfall; for, the strongholds being so
close together, we must work rapidly, and not allow news of our doings
to leap in advance of us."

"But suppose," said Kurzbold, "that Hohenfels' men hold the barge at the
landing for their own use?"

"We will wait here for another half-hour," replied Roland, "and then, if
we see nothing of the boat, proceed along the water's edge until we
learn what has become of her. I do not think the thieves will interfere
with the barge, as they have not been angered either by disobedience of
their orders to land, or resistance after the barge is by the shore.
Besides, I count on the fact that the officers, at least, will be
anxious to let the barge proceed, hoping other laden boats may follow,
and, indeed, I think for this reason they will be much more moderate in
their looting than we have been."

Before he had finished speaking, the man on watch by the water announced
the barge in sight, floating down with the current. At this they all
emerged from the forest. Captain Blumenfels, carefully scanning the
shore, saw them at once, and turned the boat's head towards the spot
where they stood.

The bags of gold were bolted away in the stout lockers extending on each
side of the cabin. While this was being done, Roland gave minute
instructions to the captain regarding the next item in the programme,
and once more entered the forest with his men.

The task before them was more difficult than the spoiling of Rheinstein,
because the huge bulk of Falkenberg stood on a summit of treeless rock;
the Castle itself, a gigantic, oblong gray mass, with a slender square
campanile some distance from it, rising high above its battlements on
the slope that went down towards the Rhine, forming thus an excellent
watch-tower. But although the conical hill of rock was bare of the large
trees that surrounded Rheinstein, there were plenty of bowlders and
shrubbery behind which cover could be sought. On this occasion the
marauding guild could not secure a position on a level with the
battlements of the Castle, as had been the case behind Rheinstein, and,
furthermore, they were compelled to make their dash for the gate up-hill.

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