The Sword Maker by Robert Barr

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"Did the merchant agree to capitalize you?"

"He, too, was a cautious man, Lieutenant. He wished first to see the
contract, and know who stood responsible for payment."

"Wise man," commented the officer; "and so, disheartened, I suppose, you
returned here?"

"No, Lieutenant; the day has been warm, and I have traveled a good deal.
I went from the merchant's house to the Rheingold tavern, there to drink
a tankard of wine with my comrades, a score of men who have formed what
they call the ironworkers' guild. I drank a tankard with them, and then
came direct here, where I arrived but a few moments ago."

The officer was more and more puzzled. Despite this young man's
deferential manner, his language was scarcely that of a mechanic, yet
this certainly was his own room, and he had told the absolute truth
about his wanderings, as one who has nothing to fear.

The Lieutenant stood for a space of time with eyes to the floor, as
silent as the soldiers behind him. Suddenly he looked up.

"Show me the sword. I'll tell you where it's made!"

If he expected hesitation he was mistaken. Roland gave a joyful cry,
swept aside the cloak, whisked forth the sword, flung it up, and caught
it by the blade, then with a low bow handed it to the officer, who
flashed it through the air, bent the blade between finger and thumb,
then took it near the lamp and scrutinized it with the eye of an expert.

"A good weapon, my friend. Where was it made? I have never seen one like
it."

"It was made by my own hands here in Frankfort. Of course I go first to
those who know least about the matter, but if I can get an introduction
to his Lordship of Mayence, his officers will know a sword when they see
it; and I hope to-night fortune, in leading you to my door, has brought
me an officer of Mayence."

The Lieutenant looked at him, and for the first time smiled. He handed
back the weapon, signed to his men to unbolt the door, which they did,
stepping out; then he said:

"I bid you good-night. Your answers have been satisfactory, but I set
you down not as a mechanic, but a very excellent merchant of swords."

"Lieutenant," said Roland, "you do not flatter me." He raised his weapon
in military salute. "I am no merchant, but a sword maker."

XIX

THE BETROTHAL IN THE GARDEN

Next morning Prince Roland sent a letter to the Archbishop of Mayence
informing him that the Empress had taken up her abode in the Palace of
her old friend, the Lord of Cologne, giving the reasons for this move
and his own desertion of the Imperial Palace, and asking permission to
call upon his mother each day. The messenger brought back a prompt
reply, which commended the delicacy of his motives in leaving the Royal
Palace, but added that, so far as the three Archbishops were concerned,
the Saalhof was still at their disposal: of course Prince Roland's
movements were quite untrammeled, and again, so far as concerned the
three Archbishops, he was at liberty to visit whom he pleased, as often
as he liked.

While waiting for the return of his messenger, Roland called upon Herr
Goebel, and told him that twenty emissaries had gone forth in every
direction from Frankfort to inform the farming community that a market
had been opened in the city, and in exchange learned what the merchant
had already done towards furthering the necessary organization.

"Oh, by the way, Herr Goebel," he cried, suddenly recollecting, "just
write out and sign a document to this effect: 'I promise Herr Roland,
sword maker of Sachsenhausen, to supply him with the capital necessary
for carrying out his contract with his Lordship the Archbishop of
Cologne.'"

Without demur the merchant indited the document, signed it, and gave it
to the Prince.

"If any emissary of Mayence pays you a domiciliary visit, Herr Goebel,
asking questions about me, carefully conceal my real status, and reply
that I am an honest, skillful sword maker, anxious to revive the
iron-working industry, and for this reason, being yourself solicitous
for the welfare of Frankfort, you are risking some money."

In the afternoon Roland walked to the Palace of Cologne and boldly
entered, with no attempt at secrecy, the doorkeeper on this occasion
offering no impediment to his progress. He learned that the Empress,
much fatigued, had retired to her room and must not be disturbed; that
the Archbishop was consulting with the Count Palatine, while the
Countess von Sayn was walking in the garden. Roland passed with some
haste through the Palace, and emerged into the grounds behind it:
grounds delightfully umbrageous, and of an extent surprisingly large,
surrounded by a very high wall of stone, so solidly built that it might
successfully stand a siege.

Roland found the girl sauntering very slowly along one of the most
secluded alleys, whose gravel-path lay deeply in the shade caused by the
thick foliage of over-hanging trees, which made a cool, green tunnel of
the walk. Her head was slightly bowed in thought, her beautiful face
pathetic in its weariness, and the young man realized, with a pang of
sympathy, that she was still to all intents and purposes a prisoner,
with no companions but venerable people. She could not, and indeed did
not attempt to suppress an exclamation of delight at seeing him,
stretching out both hands in greeting, and her countenance cleared as if
by magic.

"I was thinking of you!" she cried, without a trace of coquetry.

"I judged your thoughts to be rather gloomy," he said, with a laugh, in
which she joined.

"Gloomy only because I could see or hear nothing of you."

"Did you know I came yesterday?"

"No. Why did you not ask to see me?"

"I was informed you were entertaining the Count Palatine."

"Ah, yes. He is a delightful old man. I like him better and better as
time goes on. My guardian and I were guests of his at Gutenfels just
before I occupied the marine prison of Pfalz."

"So your guardian told me."

They were now walking side by side in this secluded, thickly-wooded
avenue, just wide enough for two, running in a straight line from wall
to wall the whole length of the property, in the part most remote from
the house.

"Nothing disastrous has happened to you?" she asked. "I have had
miserable forebodings."

"No; I am living a most commonplace life, quite uneventful."

"But why, why does the Archbishop of Mayence delay the Election?"

"I did not know he was doing so."

"Oh, my guardian is very anxious about it. Such postponement, I
understand, never happened before. The State is without a head."

"Has your guardian spoken to Mayence about it?"

"Yes; and has been met by the most icy politeness. Mayence wishes this
Election to take place with a full conclave of the seven Electors, three
of whom have not yet arrived. But my guardian says they never arrive,
and take no interest in Imperial matters. He pointed out to Mayence that
a quorum of the Court is already in Frankfort, but his Lordship of the
Upper Rhine merely protests that they must not force an Election, all of
which my guardian thinks is a mere hiding of some design on the part of
Mayence."

Prince Roland meditated on this for a few moments, then, as if shaking
off his doubts, he said:

"It never occurs to one Archbishop that either of the others may be
speaking the truth. There is so much mistrust among them that they
nullify all united action, which accounts for the prostrate state of
this city, the capital of one of the most prosperous countries under the
sun. So far as I can see, taken individually, they are upright,
trustworthy men. Now, to give you an instance. Your guardian last night
was simply panic-stricken at my audacity in visiting him. He said I must
not come again, refusing me permission to see you; he told you nothing
of my conference with him: he felt certain I was being tracked by spies,
and could not be made to understand that my presence here was of no
consequence one way or another."

"Then why are you here now?"

"I am just coming to that. I asked your guardian to invite my mother as
his guest. Have you met her yet?"

"No; they told me the Empress was too tired to receive any one. I am to
be introduced at dinner to-night."

"Well, this morning I wrote to the Archbishop of Mayence, telling him of
my interview with your guardian, the reason for it, and the results. His
reply came promptly by return." Roland produced the document. "Just read
that, and see whether you detect anything sinister in it."

She read the letter thoughtfully.

"That is honest enough on the surface."

"On the surface, yes; but why not below the surface as well? That is a
frank assent to a frank request. I think that if the Archbishops would
treat each other with open candor they would save themselves a good deal
of anxiety."

"Perhaps," said the girl, very quietly.

"You are not convinced?"

"I don't know what to think." Then she looked up at him quickly. "Were
you followed last night?"

"Ah!" ejaculated Roland, laughing a little "apparently not, so far as I
could see, but the night was very dark." Then he related to her the
incidents succeeding the return to his room, while she listened with
breathless eagerness. "The Lieutenant," he concluded, "did not deny that
he was in the service of Mayence when I hinted as much, but, on the
other hand, he did not admit it. Of course, I knew by his uniform to
whom he belonged. He conducted my examination with military abruptness,
but skillfully and with increasing courtesy, although I proclaimed
myself a mechanic."

"You a mechanic!" she said incredulously. "Do you think he believed it?"

"I see you doubt my histrionic ability, but when next he waits upon me I
shall produce documentary evidence of my status, and, what is more, I'll
take to my workshop."

"Do you possess a workshop?" cried the girl in amazement.

"Do I? Why, I am partner with a man named Greusel, and we own a workshop
together. A gruff, clumsy individual, as you would think, but who,
nevertheless, with his delicate hammer, would beat you out in metal a
brooch finer than that you are wearing."

"Do you mean Joseph?"

"Yes," replied Roland, astonished. "What do you know of him?"

"Have you forgotten so soon? It was his stalwart shoulders that burst in
my door at Pfalz, and you yourself told me his name was Joseph Greusel.
Were all those marauders you commanded honest mechanics?"

"Every man of them."

"Then you must be the villain of the piece who led those worthy
ironworkers astray?"

Roland laughed heartily.

"That is quite true," he said. "Have I fallen in your estimation?"

"No; to me you appeared as a rescuer. Besides, I come of a race of
ruffians, and doubtless on that account take a more lenient view of your
villainy than may be the case with others."

The young man stopped in his walk, and seized her hands again, which she
allowed him to possess unresisting.

"Hilda," he said solemnly, "your guardian thought the Archbishop of
Mayence had relented, and would withdraw his opposition to our marriage.
Has Mayence said anything to corroborate that estimate?"

"Nothing."

"Has your guardian broached the subject to him?"

"Yes; but the attitude of my Lord of Mayence was quite inscrutable.
Personally I think my guardian wrong in his surmise. The Archbishop of
Treves murmured that Mayence never forgives. I am certain I offended him
too deeply for pardon. He wishes the future Empress to be a pliable
creature who will influence her husband according to his Lordship's
desires, but, as I have boasted several times, I belong to the House of
Sayn."

"Hilda, will you marry me in spite of the Archbishops?"

"Roland, will you forego kingship for my sake?"

"Yes; a thousand times yes!"

"You said 'For the Empress; not for the Empire,' but if I am no Empress,
you will as cheerfully wed me?"

"Yes."

"Then _I_ say yes!"

He caught her in his arms, and they floated into the heaven of their
first kiss, an ecstatic melting together. Suddenly she drew away from
him.

"There is some one coming," she whispered.

"Nothing matters now," said Roland breathlessly. "There is no one in the
world to-day but you and me."

Hildegunde drew her hands down her cheeks, as if to brush away their
tell-tale color and their warmth.

"'Tis like," said Roland, "that you marry a poor man."

"Nothing matters now," she repeated, laughing tremulously. "I am said to
be the richest woman in Germany. I shall build you a forge and enlist
myself your apprentice. We will paint over the door 'Herr Roland and
wife; sword makers.'"

Two men appeared at the end of the alley, and stood still; the one with
a frown on his brow, the other with a smile on his lips.

"Oh!" whispered the Countess, panic striking from her face the color
that her palms had failed to remove, "the Archbishop and the Count
Palatine!"

His Lordship strode forward, followed more leisurely by the smiling
Count.

"Prince Roland," said Cologne, "I had not expected this after our
conference of last night."

"I fail to understand why, my Lord, when my parting words were 'Tell
your porter to let me in without parley.' That surely indicated an
intention on my part to visit the Palace."

"Your Highness knows that so far as I am concerned you are very welcome,
and always shall be so, but at this juncture there are others to
consider."

Roland interrupted.

"Read this letter, my Lord, and you will learn that I am here with the
full concurrence of that generous Prince of the Church, Mayence."

Cologne, with knitted brow, scrutinized the communication.

"Your Highness is most courageous, but, if I may be permitted, just a
trifle too clever."

"My Highness is not clever at all, but merely meets a situation as it
arises."

"Prince Roland," said the Countess, her head raised proudly, "may I
introduce to you my friend, and almost my neighbor, the Count Palatine
of the Rhine?"

"Ah, pardon me," murmured the Archbishop, covered with confusion, but
the jovial Count swept away all embarrassment by his hearty greeting.

"Prince Roland, I am delighted with the honor her ladyship accords me."

"And I, my Lord, am exceedingly gratified to meet the Count Palatine
again."

"Again?" cried the Count in astonishment, "If ever we had encountered
one another, your Highness, I certainly should not have been the one to
forget the privilege."

The Prince laughed.

"It is true, nevertheless. My Lord Count, there is a namesake of mine in
the precincts of your strong Castle of Gutenfels; a namesake who does
more honor to the title than I do myself."

The Count Palatine threw back his head, and the forest garden echoed
with boisterous laughter.

"You mean my black charger, Prince Roland!" he shouted. "A noble horse
indeed. How knew you of him? If your Highness cares for horses allow me
to present him to you."

"Never, my Lord Count. You are too fond of him yourself, and I have
always had an affectionate feeling towards you for your love of that
animal, which, indeed, hardly exceeds my own. I grasped his bridle-rein,
and held the stirrup while you mounted."

"How is that possible?" asked the astonished Count.

"I cared for Prince Roland nearly a month, receiving generous wages,
and, what I valued more, your own commendation, for you saw I was as
fond of horses as you were."

"Good heavens! Were you that youth who came so mysteriously, and
disappeared without warning?"

"Yes," laughed the Prince. "I know Gutenfels nearly as well as you do. I
was a spy, studying the art of war and methods of fortification. I
stopped in various capacities at nearly all the famous Castles of the
Rhine, and this knowledge recently came in--"

"Your Highness, your Highness!" pleaded the Archbishop. "I implore you
to remember that the Count Palatine is an Elector of the Empire, and, as
I told last night, we are facing a crisis. Until that crisis is passed
you will add to my already great anxiety by any lack of reticence on
your part."

"By the Three Kings!" cried the Count, "this youth, if I may venture to
call him so, has bound me to him with bands stronger than chain armor. I
shall vote for him whoever falters."

"His Highness," said the Archbishop, with a propitiatory smile, "has
been listening to the Eastern tales which our ancestors brought from the
Crusades, and I fear has filled his head with fancies."

"Really, Archbishop, you misjudge me," said the young man; "I am the
most practical person in the Empire. You interrupted my boasting to her
ladyship of my handiwork. I would have you know I am a capable mechanic
and a sword maker. What think you of that, my Lord?" he asked, drawing
forth his weapon, and handing it to Cologne.

"An excellent blade indeed," said the latter, balancing it in his hand.

"Very well, my Lord, I made it and tempered it unassisted. I beg you to
re-enter your palace, and write me out an order for a thousand of these
weapons."

"If your Highness really wishes me to do this, and there is no concealed
humorism in your request which I am too dull to fathom, you must
accompany me to my study and dictate the document I am to indite. I
shall wait till you bid farewell to the Countess."

A glance of mutual understanding flashed between the girl and himself,
then Roland raised her hand to his lips, and although the onlookers saw
the gallant salutation, they knew nothing of the gentle pressure with
which the fingers exchanged their confidences.

"Madam," said the Prince, "it will be my pleasure and duty to wait upon
my mother to-morrow. May I look forward to the happiness of presenting
you to her?"

"I thank you," said the Countess simply, with a glance of appeal at her
guardian. That good man sighed, then led the way into the house.

XX

THE MYSTERY OF THE FOREST

Roland left the palace with a sense of elation he had never before
experienced, but this received a check as he saw standing in the middle
of the square the Lieutenant of the night before. His first impulse was
to avoid the officer, yet almost instinctively he turned and walked
directly to him, which apparently nonplussed the brave emissary of
Mayence.

"Good afternoon to you, sir," began Roland, as if overjoyed to see him.
"Will you permit me to speak to you, sir?"

"Well?" said the Lieutenant curtly.

"My forge, which has been black and cold for many a long day, will soon
be alight and warm again. What think you of this?" He handed to the
Lieutenant his order for a thousand swords, and the officer made a
mental note of the commission as an interesting point in armament that
would be appreciated by his chief.

"You did not inform me last night who was the merchant you hoped would
finance your enterprise."

"Hoped?" echoed Roland, his eyes sparkling. "'Tis more than hope, Herr
Lieutenant. His name is Goebel, and he is one of the richest and
chiefest traffickers of Frankfort. Why, my fortune is made! Read this,
written in his own hand. I got it from him before midday, on my mere
word that I was certain of an order from his Lordship."

"You are indeed much to be envied," said the Lieutenant coldly,
returning the two documents.

"Ah, but I am just at the beginning. If _you_ would favor me by
smoothing the way to his Lordship, the Archbishop of Mayence, I in
return--"

"Out upon you for a base-born, profit-mongering churl! Do you think that
I, an officer, would demean myself by partnering a bagman!"

The Lieutenant turned on his heel, strode away and left him. Roland
pursued his way with bowed head, as though stricken by the rebuff.
Nearing the bridge, he saw a crowd around an empty cart, standing by
which a man in rough clothing was cursing most vociferously.

At first he thought there had been an accident, but most of the people
were laughing loudly; so, halting in the outskirts, he asked the cause
of the commotion.

"'Tis but a fool farmer," said a man, "who came from the country with
his load of vegetables. 'Tis safer to enter a lion's den unarmed than to
come into Frankfort with food while people are starving. He has been
plundered to the last leaf."

Roland shouldered his way through the crowd, and touched the frantic man
on the shoulder.

"What was the value of your load?" he said.

"A misbegotten liar told me this morning that a market had opened in
Frankfort, and that there was money to be had. No sooner am I in the
town than everything I brought in is stolen."

"Yes, yes; I know all about that. My question is, How much is your
merchandise worth?"

"Worth? Thirty thalers I expected to get, and now--"

"Thirty thalers," interrupted the Prince. "Here is your money. Get you
gone, and tell your neighbors there is prompt payment for all the
provender they can bring in."

The man calmed down as if a bucket of water had been thrown on him. He
counted the payment with miserly care, testing each coin between his
teeth, then mounted his cart without a word of thanks, and, to the
disappointment of the gathering mob, drove away. Roland, seething with
anger, walked directly to the house of Herr Goebel, and found that
placid old burgher seated at his table.

"Ten thousand curses on your indolence!" he cried. "Where are your
committee, and the emissaries empowered to carry out this scheme of
relief I have ordered?"

"Committee? Emissaries?" cried the astonished man. "There has been no
time!"

"Time, you thick-headed fool! I'll time you by hanging you to your own
front door. There has been time for me to send my men out into the
country; time for a farmer to come in with a cartload of produce, and be
robbed here under your very nose! Maledictions on you, you sit here,
well fed, and cry there is no time! If I had not paid the yeoman he
would have gone back into the country crying we were all thieves here in
Frankfort. Now listen to me. I drew my sword once upon you in jest.
Should I draw it a second time it will be to penetrate your lazy carcass
by running you through. If within two hours there is not a paymaster at
every gate in Frankfort to buy and pay for each cartload of produce as
it comes, and also a number of guides to tell that farmer where to
deliver his goods, I'll give your town over to the military, and order
the sacking of every merchant's house within its walls."

"It shall be done; it shall be done; it shall be done!" breathed the
merchant, trembling as he rose, and he kept repeating the phrase with
the iteration of a parrot.

"You owe me thirty thalers," said the Prince calming down; "the first
payment out of the relief fund. Give me the money."

With quivering hands Herr Goebel, seeing no humor in the application,
handed over the money, which the Prince slipped into his wallet.

Dusk had fallen when at last he reached his room in Sachsenhausen, and
there he found awaiting him Joseph Greusel, in semi-darkness and in
total gloom.

"Your housekeeper let me in," said the visitor.

"Good! I did not expect you back so soon. Have the others returned?"

"I do not know. I came direct here. I carry very ominous news, Roland,
of impending disaster in Frankfort."

"Greater than at present oppresses it?"

"Civil war, fire, and bloodshed. Close the door, Roland; I am tired out,
and I do not wish to be overheard."

The Prince obeyed the request, locking the door. Going to a cupboard, he
produced a generous flagon of wine and a tankard, setting the same on a
small table before Greusel, then he threw himself down in the one
armchair the room possessed. Greusel filled the tankard, and emptied it
without drawing breath. He plunged directly into his narrative.

"I had penetrated less than half a league into the forest when I was
stopped by an armed man who stepped out from behind a tree. He wore the
uniform of Mayence, and proclaimed me a prisoner. I explained my
mission, but this had no effect upon him. He asked if I would go with
him quietly, or compel him to call assistance. Being helpless, I said I
would go quietly. Notwithstanding this, he bound my wrists behind me,
then with a strip of cloth blindfolded me. Taking me by the arm, he led
me through the forest for a distance impossible to calculate. I think,
however, we walked not more than ten minutes. There was a stop and a
whispered parley; a pause of a few minutes, and a further conference,
which I partially heard. The commander before whom I must be taken was
not ready to receive me. I should be placed in a tent, and a guard set
over me.

"This was done. I asked that the cord, which hurt my wrists, might be
removed, but instead, my ankles were tied together, and I sat there on
the ground, leaning against a pole at the back of the tent. Here my
conductor left me, and I heard him give orders to those without to
maintain a strict watch, but to hold no communication with me.

"I imagine that the tent I occupied stood back to back with the tent of
the commander, for after some time I heard the sound of voices, and it
seemed to me voices of two men in authority. They had come to the back
part of their tent, as if to speak confidentially, and their voices were
low, yet I could hear them quite distinctly, being separated from them
merely by two thicknesses of cloth. What I learned was this. There is
concealed in the forest, within half an hour's quick march of the
southern gate, a force of seven thousand soldiers. These soldiers belong
to the Archbishop of Mayence, who commands an additional three thousand
within the walls of Frankfort. Mayence holds the southern gate, as
Treves holds the western and Cologne the northern. You see at once what
that implies. Mayence can pour his troops into Frankfort, say, at
midnight, and in the morning he has ten thousand soldiers as compared
with the three thousand each commanded by the Archbishops of Treves and
Cologne. That means civil war, and the complete crushing of the two
northern Archbishops."

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