The Sword Maker by Robert Barr

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"How can I repay the money," she demanded, "if I do not know who and
what you are?"

"I shall send for it, either to your Castle of Sayn, or the Convent of
Nonnenwerth. You need be under no obligation to me."

"But," cried the girl with a sob, "I am already under obligation to you;
an obligation which I cannot repay."

"Oh yes, you can."

"How?"

"By coming with me, who will persuade you, as readily as you did with
your guardian, who coerced you."

"I am an ungrateful simpleton," she murmured. "Of course your way is the
right one, and I am quite helpless if you desert me."

"There," cried Roland, with enthusiasm, "you have more than repaid
whatever you may owe."

After breakfasting at St. Goarhausen and purchasing the horses, they
journeyed down the rough road that extended along the right bank of the
Rhine. Roland and Hilda rode side by side, the other two following some
distance to the rear. The young man maintained a gloomy silence, and the
girl, misapprehending his thoughts, remained silent also, with downcast
eyes, seeing nothing of the beautiful scenery they were passing. Every
now and then Roland cast a sidelong glance at her, and his melancholy
deepened as he remembered how heedlessly he had pledged his word to the
three Archbishops regarding his marriage.

"I see," she said at last, "that I have offended you more seriously than
I feared."

"No, no," he assured her. "There is a burden that I cannot cast from my
mind."

"May I know what it is?"

"I dare not tell you, Hilda. I have been a fool. I am in the position of
a man who must break his oath and live dishonored, or keep it, and
remain for ever unhappy. Which would you do were you in my place?"

"Once given, I should keep my oath," she replied promptly, "unless those
who accepted it would release me."

Roland shook his head.

"They will not release me," he said dolefully.

Again they rode together in silence, content to be near each other,
despite the young man's alternations of elation and despair. 'Twas, all
in all, a long summer's day of sweet unhappiness for each.

One of Roland's reasons for choosing the right bank of the Rhine was to
avoid the important city of Coblentz, with its inevitable questioning,
and it was late afternoon when they saw this town on the farther shore,
passing it without hindrance.

"You will rest this night," she said, "in my Castle of Sayn, and then,
as time is pressing, to-morrow you must return. We have met no
interference even by this dangerous route, and I shall make my way alone
without fear to Nonnenwerth, for I know you are anxious to be in
Frankfort once more."

"I swear to you, Hilda, that if, without breaking my oath, I should
never see Frankfort again, I would be the most joyous of men."

"Does your oath relate to Frankfort?"

"My oath relates to a woman," he said shortly.

"Ah," she breathed, "then you must keep it," and so they fell into
silence and unhappiness again.

She had talked of security on the road they traversed, but turning a
corner north of Vallandar they speedily found that a Rhine road is never
safe.

Both reined in their horses as if moved by the same impulse, but to
retreat now would simply draw pursuit upon them. Mounted on a splendid
white charger, gorgeous with trappings, glittering with silver and gold,
rode a dignified man in the outdoor habit of a general in times of
peace.

Following him came an escort of twoscore horsemen; they in the full
panoply of war; and behind them, on foot, in procession extending like a
gigantic snake down the Rhine road, an army of at least three thousand
men, the setting sun flashing fire from the points of their spears. Here
and there, down the line, floated above them silken flags, and Roland
recognized the device on the foremost one.

"God!" he shouted in dismay. "The Archbishop of Cologne!"

The girl uttered a little frightened cry, and edged her horse nearer to
that of her escort.

"My guardian! My guardian!" she breathed. "I shall be rearrested!"

Seeing them standing as if stricken to stone, two horsemen detached
themselves from the cavalry and galloped forward.

"Make way there, you fools!" cried the leader. "Get ye to the side; into
the river; where you like; out of the path of my Lord the Archbishop."

Nevertheless Roland stood his ground, and dared even to frown at the
officers of his Lordship.

"Stand aside _you_," he commanded in a tone of mastery, "and do not
venture to intrude between the Archbishop and me."

The rider knew that no man who valued his head would dare use such
language in the very presence of the Archbishop, unless he were the
highest in the land. His dignified Lordship looked up to see the cause
of this interruption, and of these angry words.

First came into his face an expression of amazement, then a smile melted
the stern lips as he looked on Roland and recognized him. The impetuous
horsemen faded away to the background. There was no answering smile on
Roland's face. He reached out and clasped the hand of the girl.

"Now, by the Three Kings!" he whispered, "I shall break my oath."

Hilda glanced up at him, frightened by his vehemence, wincing under his
iron grasp.

An unexpected sound interrupted the tension. The Archbishop had come to
a stand, and "Halt! Halt! Halt!" rang out the word along the line of
men, whose feet ceased to stir the dust of the road. The unexpected
sound was that of hearty laughter from the dignified and mighty Prince
of the Church.

"Forgive me, your Highness!" he cried, "but I laugh to think of the
countenances of my somber brothers, Treves and Mayence, when they learn
how sturdily you have kept your word with them. By the true Cross,
Prince Roland, although we wished you to marry her, we had no thought
that you would break into the Castle of Pfalz to win her hand. Ah, dear,
what a pity 'tis we grow old! The impetuousness of youth outweighs the
calculated wisdom of the three greatest prelates outside Rome. Judging
by your fair face (and I have always held it to be beautiful, remember),
you, Hildegunde Lauretta Priscilla Agnes, Countess of Sayn, are not
moving northward to Nonnenwerth. I always insisted that the Saalhof at
Frankfort was a more cheerful edifice than any nunnery on the Rhine, yet
you never turned upon me such a glance of confidence as I see you bestow
on your future Emperor."

"I hope, my Lord and Guardian," cried the girl, "that I have met you in
time to deflect your course to my Castle of Sayn."

"Sweet Countess, I thank you for the invitation. My men can go on to
their camp in the stronghold of my brother of Mayence, Schloss
Martinsburg, and I shall gladly return with you to the hospitable hearth
of Sayn. Indeed," said the Archbishop, lowering his voice, "I shall feel
safer there than in enjoying the hospitality I had intended to accept."

"Are you not surprised to meet me?" asked the lady, with a laugh,
adjusting words and manner to the new situation, which she more quickly
comprehended than did her companion, who glanced with bewilderment from
Countess to prelate, and back again.

The Archbishop waved his hand.

"Nothing you could do would surprise me, since your interview with the
Court of Archbishops. I am on my way to Frankfort." Then, more
seriously, to Prince Roland: "You heard of your father's death?"

"I learned it only this morning, my Lord. I shall return to Frankfort
when I am assured that this gentlewoman is in a place of safety."

"Ah, Countess, there will be no lack of safety now! But will you not
ease an old man's conscience by admitting he was in the right?"

The Countess looked up at Roland with a smile.

"Yes, dear Guardian," she said. "You were in the right."

XVII

"FOR THE EMPRESS, AND NOT FOR THE EMPIRE"

While the long line of troops stood at salute in single file, the
Archbishop turned his horse to the north and rode past his regiments,
followed by the Countess and Roland. His Lordship was accompanied to the
end of the ranks by his general, who received final instructions
regarding the march.

"You will encamp for the night not at Schloss Martinsburg, as I had
intended, but a league or two up the Lahn. To-morrow morning continue
your march along the Lahn as far as Limburg, and there await my arrival.
We will enter Frankfort by the north gate instead of from the west."

The Archbishop sat on his horse for some minutes, watching the departing
force, then called Roland to his right hand, and Hildegunde to his left,
and thus the three set out on the short journey to Sayn.

"Your Highness," began the Archbishop, "I find myself in a position of
some embarrassment. I think explanations are due to me from you both.
Here I ride between two escaped prisoners, and I travel away from,
instead of towards, their respective dungeons. My plain duty, on
encountering you, was to place you in custody of a sufficient guard,
marching you separately the one to Pfalz and the other to Ehrenfels.
Having accomplished this I should report the case to my two colleagues,
yet here am I actually compounding a misdemeanor, and assisting
prisoners to escape."

"My Lord," spoke up Roland, "I am quite satisfied that my own
imprisonment has been illegal, therefore I make no apology for
circumventing it. Before entering upon any explanation, I ask
enlightenment regarding the detention of my lady of Sayn. Am I right in
surmising that she, like myself, was placed under arrest by the three
Archbishops?"

"Yes, your Highness."

"On what charge?"

"High treason."

"Against whom?"

There was a pause, during which the Archbishop did not reply.

"I need not have asked such a question," resumed the Prince, "for high
treason can relate only to the monarch. In what measure has her ladyship
encroached upon the prerogative of the Emperor?"

"Your Highness forgets that there is such a thing as treason against the
State."

"Are not members of the nobility privileged in this matter?"

"They cannot be, for the State is greater than any individual."

"I shall make a note of that, my Lord of Cologne. I believe you are in
the right, and I hope so. During my lonely incarceration," the Prince
laughed a little, "I have studied the condition of the State, arriving
at the conclusion that the greatest traitors in our land are the three
Archbishops, who, arrogating to themselves power that should belong to
the Crown, did not use that power for suppressing those other
treason-mongers, the Barons of the Rhine."

"What would you have us do with them?"

"You should disarm them. You should exact restitution of their
illegally-won wealth. You should open the Rhine to honest commerce."

"That is easy to enunciate, and difficult to perform. If the Castles
were disarmed, especially those on the left bank, a great injustice
would be done that might lead to the extinction of many noble families.
Why, the forests of Germany are filled with desperate outlaws, who
respect neither life nor property. I myself have suffered but recently
from their depredations. In broad daylight an irresistible band of these
ruffians descended upon and captured the supposed impregnable Castle of
Rheinstein, shamefully maltreating Baron Hugo von Hohenfels, tying him
motionless, and nearly strangling him with stout ropes, after which the
scoundrels robbed him of every stiver he possessed. The following
midnight but one they descended on Furstenberg, a fief of my own, and
not contenting themselves with robbery, brought red ruin on the Margrave
by burning his Castle to the ground."

"My Lord, red ruin and the Red Margrave were made for each other. It was
the justice of God that they should meet." The young man raised aloft
his swordarm, shaking his clenched fist at the sky. "That hand held the
torch that fired Furstenberg. The Castle was taken and burned by three
sword makers from Frankfort, who never saw the Hunsruck or the outlaws
thereof."

The Archbishop reined in his horse, and looked at the excited young man
with amazement.

"_You_ fired Furstenberg?"

"Yes; and effectively, my Lord. I shall rebuild it for you, but the Red
Margrave I shall hang, as my predecessor Rudolph did his ancestor."

An expression of sternness hardened the Archbishop's face.

"Sir," he said, "I regret to hear you speak like this, and your safety
lies in the fact that I do not believe a word of it. Even so, such wild
words fill me with displeasure. I beg to remind you that the Election of
an Emperor has not yet taken place, and I, for one, am likely to
reconsider my decision. Still, as I said, I do not believe a word of
your absurd tale."

"I believe every syllable of it!" cried the Countess with enthusiasm,
"and glory that there is a mind brave enough, and a hand obedient to it,
to smoke out a robber and a murderer."

The tension this astonishing revelation caused was relieved by a laugh
from the Archbishop.

"My dear Hildegunde, you are forgetting your own ancestors. I venture
that no woman of the House of Sayn talked thus when the Emperor Rudolph
marched Count von Sayn to the scaffold. You would probably sing another
song if asked to restore the millions amassed by Henry III. of Sayn and
his successors; all accumulated by robbery as cruel as any that the Red
Margrave has perpetrated."

"My Lord," said the Countess proudly, "you had no need to ask that
question, for you knew the answer to it before you spoke. Every thaler I
control shall be handed over to Prince Roland, to be used for the
regeneration of his country."

Again the Archbishop laughed.

"Surely I knew that, my dear, and I should not have said what I did. I
suppose you will not allow me to vote against his Highness at the coming
Election."

"Indeed, you shall vote enthusiastically for him, because you know in
your own heart he is the man Germany needs."

"Was there ever such a change of front?" cried the Archbishop. "Why, my
dear, the charges you so hotly made against his Highness are as nothing
to what he has himself confessed; yet now he is the savior of Germany,
when previously--Ah, well, I must not play the tale-bearer."

"Prince Roland," cried the girl, "my kinsman, Father Ambrose, said he
met you in Frankfort, although now I believe him to have been mistaken."

"Oh no; I encountered the good Father on the bridge."

"There now!" exclaimed the Archbishop, "what do you say to that, my
lady?"

She seemed perplexed by the admission, but quickly replied to his
Lordship:

"'Twas you said that could not be, as he was a close prisoner in
Ehrenfels." She continued, addressing the Prince: "Father Ambrose
asserted that you were a companion of drinkers and brawlers in a low
wine cellar of Frankfort."

"Quite true; a score of them."

The girl became more and more perplexed.

"Did you imprison Father Ambrose?"

"Yes; in the lowest wine cellar, but only for a day or two. I am very
sorry, Madam, but it was a stern necessity of war. He was meddling with
affairs he knew nothing of, and there was no time for explanations. He,
a man of peace, would not have sanctioned what there was to do even if I
had explained."

"He says," continued the girl, "that he saw you rob a merchant of a bag
of gold."

"That is untrue!" cried the Prince.

"My dear Hildegunde, what is the robbing of a bag of gold from a
merchant when he admits having stolen gold by the castle full?"

"I robbed no merchant," protested the Prince. "How could Father Ambrose
make such a statement?"

"He mounted an outside stairway on the Fahrgasse, and through lighted
windows on the opposite side saw you place the point of your sword at
the throat of an unarmed merchant, and take from him a bag of gold."

Roland, whose brow had been knitted into an angry frown, now threw back
his head and laughed joyously.

"Oh, that was a mere frolic," he alleged.

It was the girl's turn to frown.

"When you took stolen treasure from thievish Barons and Margraves
protected by scores of armed men, with the object of breaking their
power, for the relief of commerce, I admired you, but to say that the
despoiling of a helpless merchant is a frolic--"

"No, no, my dear, you do not understand," eagerly corrected the Prince,
unconscious of the affectionate phrase that caused a flush to rise in
the cheeks of his listener. "The merchant was, and is, my partner; a
blameless man, Herr Goebel, who came near to being hanged on my behalf
when these Archbishops took me captive. I sought from him a thousand
thalers; he insisted on learning my plans for opening the Rhine, and
still would not give the money until, reluctantly, I was obliged to
confess myself son of the Emperor. This he could not credit, stipulating
that before giving the money I must produce for him a safe-conduct,
signed by the Emperor, and verified by the Great Seal of the Empire.
This document I obtained at dire personal risk, through the aid of my
mother. Here it is."

He thrust his hand into his doublet, and produced the parchment in
question, delivering it to the lady, who, however, did not unfold it,
but kept her eyes fixed upon him.

"This distrust annoyed me; it should not have done so, for he was merely
acting in the cautious manner natural to a merchant. With a boyishness I
now regret, I put my sword to his throat, demanding the money, which I
received. I took only half of it, for my mother had given me five
hundred thalers. Oh, no; I did not rob my friend Goebel, but merely
tried to teach him that lack of faith is a dangerous thing."

If the old man who listened could have exchanged confidences with the
young woman who listened, he would have learned they shared the same
thought, which was that the young Prince spoke so straight-forwardly
neither doubted him for a moment. The old man, it is true, felt that his
talk was rather reckless of consequences, but, on the other hand, this
in itself was complimentary, for, as he remembered, the Prince had been
cautious enough when catechized by the three Archbishops together.

"I have often read," said Cologne, with a smile, "pathetic accounts of
prisoners, who in extreme loneliness carved their names over and over
again on stone as hard as the jailer's heart, but your Highness seems
rather to have enjoyed yourself while so cruelly interned. May I further
beg of you to enlighten us concerning a somewhat bibulous youth who at
the present moment is enjoying, in every sense of the word, the
hospitality of Ehrenfels Castle?"

It was now the Archbishop's turn to astonish the Prince.

"You knew of my device, then?"

"'Knew' is a little too strong. 'Suspect' more nearly fits the case. You
won over your jailer, and some one else took your place as prisoner."

"Yes; a young man to whom I owe small thanks, and with whom I have an
account to settle. He is son of the custodian, and thinks he has us both
under his thumb, Heinrich drinks as if he were a fish or a Baron, but I
shall cure him of that habit before it becomes firmly established."

"Am I correct in assuming that you found your liberty only after your
interview with the three Electors?"

"Oh, bless you, no! I was free months before that time. Indeed, it is
only since then that my substitute is practically useless. Heinrich
might have passed for me at a pinch, but only because neither you nor
your colleagues had seen me. I have kept him under lock and key ever
since, because I dare not allow him abroad until the Election has taken
place."

"I see. A very wise precaution. Well, your Highness, I shall say nothing
of what you tell me; furthermore, I still promise you my vote; that is,
if you will obey my orders until you are elected Emperor. I foresee we
are not going to have the easy time with you that was anticipated, but
this concerns Mayence and Treves, rather than myself, for I have no
ambition to rule by proxy. And now, my lady of Sayn, when we journeyed
southward that day from Gutenfels Castle I gave you some information
regarding the mind of Mayence. You remember, perhaps, what I said about
his quandary. I rather suspect that he admires you, notwithstanding your
defiance of him; but there is nothing remarkable in that, for we all
appreciate you, old and young. I, too, carry a document of safe-conduct,
like Prince Roland here, although I see that his Highness has placed his
safety in your hands."

The old man smiled, and Hildegunde found herself still carrying the
parchment Roland had given her. For a moment she was confused, then
smiled also, and offered it back; but the Prince shook his head. The
Archbishop went on:

"Mayence sent down to me your written release, signed by himself and
Treves. He asked me to attach a signature, and liberate you on my way to
Frankfort, which I intended to do had this impetuous young man not
forestalled me. By the way, Highness, how did you happen to meet
Countess von Sayn in Pfalz?"

"We will tell you about that later, Guardian," said Hildegunde, before
Roland could speak. "What instructions did his Lordship of Mayence give
concerning me?"

"He asked me to bring you to my palace in Frankfort, and subtly
expressed the hope you had changed your mind."

"You may assure him I have," said the Countess, again speaking rapidly;
"but let us leave all details of that for the moment. I am then to go
with you to the capital?"

"Yes; to-morrow morning."

"To remain until the coronation?"

"Certainly; if such is your wish. But do you not see something very
significant in my brother Mayence's change of plan, for you know he did
not intend to release you until after that event?"

"Yes, yes," replied the Countess breathlessly. "I see it quite clearly,
but do not wish to discuss the matter at the present moment."

"Very well. I intended to enter Frankfort from the west, but meeting you
so unexpectedly, I have deflected my troops up the Lahn to Limburg, at
which town we will join them to-morrow night, thus following Father
Ambrose's route to the capital."

"Ah, that will be very interesting. Prince Roland, you accompany us, I
hope?"

"Of a surety," replied the young man confidently.

"No," quietly said the Archbishop.

"Why not?"

"Because I say no."

The young man almost an Emperor drew himself up proudly, and his lips
pressed together into a firm line of determination.

"Does your Highness so quickly forget your promise?"

"What promise?" asked the Prince, scowling.

"In consideration of my keeping silence touching your recent outrageous
career of fire and slaughter, and the enslavement of Heinrich, you
promised to obey me until you became Emperor."

"I intend to obey all reasonable requests, but I very much desire to
accompany the Countess from her Castle to the capital, I have never seen
Limburg, or taken that route to Frankfort."

"It is a charming old city," replied the Archbishop dryly, "which you
can visit any time at the expense of a day's ride. Meanwhile, I shall
escort the Countess thither, and endeavor to entertain her with pleasing
and instructive conversation during the journey."

The Prince continued to frown, yet bit his lip and repressed an angry
retort.

"But," protested the girl, "would it not be much safer for his Highness
to enter the city of Frankfort protected by your army?"

The Archbishop laughed a little.

"My dear Hildegunde, the presence of Prince Roland causes you to
overlook a vast difference in the status of you both, but surely the
exercise of a little imagination should present to you the true aspect
of affairs. You are a free woman, and I hold the document by which you
regained your liberty. Do not be deluded, therefore, by the apparent
fact that his Highness can raise a clenched fist aloft and defy the
heavens. It is not so. He wears fetters on his ankles, and manacles
round his wrists. Roland is a prisoner, and must straightway immure
himself. Your Highness, before us stands the stately Castle of Sayn,
where presently you shall refresh yourself, and be furnished with an
untired charger, on which to ride all night, that you may reach the
gates of Ehrenfels early to-morrow morning. Once there, place the
wine-loving Heinrich out of harm in the deepest dungeon, and take his
place as prisoner. It is arranged that the three Archbishops personally
escort you to Frankfort in the barge of Mayence, which will land you at
the water-steps of the Royal Palace. If it were known that I had been
even an hour in your company your chances of reaching the throne would
be seriously jeopardized."

"Surely such haste is unnecessary," cried the girl. "He can set out
to-morrow in one direction while we go in another. He traveled all last
night, and for most part of it was paddling a boat containing four
people; has ridden almost since daylight, and now to journey on
horseback throughout the night is too much for human endurance."

The grave smile of the Archbishop shone upon her anxiety.

"For lack of a nail the shoe was lost," he said, "and you know the
remainder of the warning. If Prince Roland cares to risk an Empire for a
night's rest, I withdraw my objection."

The Prince suddenly wheeled his horse, and coming briskly round to the
side of the girl, placed a hand on hers.

"A decision, Countess!" he cried. "Give me your decision. I shall always
obey you!"

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