The Sword Maker by Robert Barr

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To this declaration Roland made no reply, but continued his explanatory
remarks.

"We shall join the barge, as I have said, above Assmannshausen, probably
at night, and then cross directly over the river. The first castle with
which I intend to deal is that celebrated robber's roost, Rheinstein,
standing two hundred and sixty feet above the water. Disembarking about
a league up the river from Rheinstein, before daybreak we will all lie
concealed in the forest within sight of the Castle gates. When the sun
is well risen, Captain Blumenfels will navigate his boat down the river,
and as it approaches Rheinstein we shall probably enjoy the privilege of
seeing the gates open wide, as the company from the Castle descend
precipitously to the water. While they rifle the barge we shall rifle
the Castle, overpowering whoever we may find there, and taking in return
for the cloth they steal such gold or silver as the treasury affords. We
will then imprison all within the Castle, so that a premature alarm may
not be given. If we are hurried, we may lock them in cellars, or place
them in dungeons, then leave the Castle with our booty, but I do not
purpose descending to the river until we have traversed a league or more
of the mountain forest, where we may remain concealed until the barge
appears, and so take ship again.

"The next castle is Falkenberg, the third Sonneck, both on the same side
of the river as Rheinstein, and within a short distance from the
stronghold, but the plan with each being the same as that already
outlined, it is not necessary for me to repeat it."

"An excellent arrangement!" cried several; but John Gensbein spoke up in
criticism.

"Is there to be no fighting?" he asked. "I expected you to say that
after we had secured the gold we would fall on the robbers to the rear,
and smite them hip and thigh."

"There is likely to be all the fighting you can wish for," replied
Roland, "for at some point our scheme may go awry. It is not my
intention to attack, but I expect you to fight like heroes in our own
defense."

"I agree with Herr Roland," put in Conrad Kurzbold, rising to his feet.
"If we purpose to win our way down to Cologne, it is unnecessary to
search for trouble, because we shall find enough of it awaiting us at
one point or another. But Roland stopped his account at what seems to me
the most interesting juncture. What is the destination of the gold we
loot from the castles?"

"The first call upon our accumulation will be the payment of four
thousand five hundred thalers to Herr Goebel."

"Oh, damn the merchant!" cried Conrad. "We are risking our lives, and I
don't see why he should reach out his claws. He will profit enough
through our exertions if we open the Rhine."

"True; but that was the bargain I made with him. We risk our lives, as
you say, but he risks his goods, besides providing barge, captain, and
crew. He also furnished us with the five hundred thalers now in our
pockets. We must deal honestly with the man who has supported us in the
beginning."

"Oh, very well," growled Kurzbold, "have it your own way; but in my
opinion the merchants should combine and raise a fund with which to
reward us for our exertions if we succeed. Still, I shall not press my
contention in the face of an overwhelming sentiment against me. However,
I should like to speak to our leader on one matter which it seemed
ungracious to mention last night. The merchant offered him a thousand
thalers in gold, and he, with a generosity which I must point out to him
was exercised at our expense, returned half that money to Herr Goebel. I
confess that all I received has been spent; my hand is lonesome when it
enters my pouch. I should be glad of that portion which might have been
mine (and when I speak for myself, I speak for all) were it not for the
misplaced prodigality of our leader who, possessing the money, was so
thoughtless of our fellowship that he actually handed over five hundred
thalers to a man who had not the slightest claim upon it."

"Herr Kurzbold," said Roland, with some severity, "many penniless nights
passed over our heads in this room. If you know so much better than I
how to procure money, why did you not do so? I should not venture to
criticise a man who, without any effort on my part, placed thirty
thalers at my disposal."

There was a great clamor at this, every one except Kurzbold, who stood
stubbornly in his place, and Gensbein, who sat next to him, becoming
vociferous in defense of their leader.

"It is uncomrade-like," cried Ebearhard above the din, "to spend the
money and then growl."

"I speak in the interests of us all," shouted Kurzbold. "In the
interests of our leader, no less than ourselves," but the others howled
him down.

Roland, holding up his right hand, seemed to request silence and
obtained it.

"I am rather glad," he said, "that this discussion has arisen, because
there is still time to amend our programme. Herr Goebel's barge will not
be loaded until to-morrow night, so the order may even yet be
countermanded. The five hundred thalers which belonged to me I say
nothing about, but the five hundred advanced by Herr Goebel must be
returned to him unless we are in perfect unanimity."

At this suggestion Kurzbold sat down with some suddenness.

"I told you, when I left this room, promising to find the money within a
week, that one condition was the backing of my fellows. You empowered me
to pledge the efforts of our club as though it contained but one man. If
that promise is not to be kept in spirit as well as in letter, I shall
retire from the position I now hold, and you may elect in my stead
Conrad Kurzbold, John Gensbein, or any one else that pleases you. But
first I must be in a position to give back intact Herr Goebel's money;
then, as I have divulged to you my plans, Conrad Kurzbold may approach
him, and make better terms than I was able to arrange."

There were cries of "Nonsense! Nonsense!" "Don't take a little
opposition in that spirit, Roland." "We are all free-speaking comrades,
you know." "You are our leader, and must remain so."

Kurzbold rose to his feet for the third time.

"Literally and figuratively, my friend Roland has me on the hip, for my
hip-pocket contains no money, and it is impossible for me to refund. I
imagine, if the truth were told, we are all more or less in the same
condition, for we have had equipment to buy, and what-not."

"Also Hochheimer," said one, at which there was a laugh, as Kurzbold was
noted for his love of good wine. Up to this point Roland had carried the
assemblage with him, but now he made an injudicious remark that
instantly changed the spirit of the room.

"I am astonished," he said, "that any objection should be made to the
fair treatment of Herr Goebel, for you are all of the merchant class,
and should therefore hold by one of your own order."

He could proceed no farther. Standing there, pale and determined, he was
simply stormed down. His ignorance of affairs, of which on several
occasions the merchant himself had complained, led him quite
unconsciously to touch the pride of his hearers. It was John Gensbein
who angrily gave expression to the sentiment of the meeting.

"To what class do _you_ belong, I should like to know? Do you claim
affinity with the merchant class? If you do, you are no leader of ours.
I inform you, sir, that we are skilled artisans, with the craft to turn
out creditable work, while the merchants are merely the vendors of our
products. Which, therefore, takes the higher place in a community, and
which deserves it better: he who with artistic instinct unites the
efforts of brain and hand to produce wares that are at once beautiful
and useful, or he who merely chaffers over his counter to get as much
lucre as he can for the creations that come from our benches?"

To Roland's aristocratic mind, every man who lacked noble blood in his
veins stood on the same level, and it astonished him that any mere
plebeian should claim precedence over another. He himself felt
immeasurably superior to those present, sensible of a fathomless gulf
between him and them, which he, in his condescension, might cross as
suited his whim, but over which none might follow him back again; and
this, he was well aware, they would be the first to admit did they but
know his actual rank.

For a moment he was tempted to acknowledge his identity, and crush them
by throwing the crown at their heads, but some hitherto undiscovered
stubbornness in his nature asserted itself, arousing a determination to
stand or fall by whatever strength of character he might possess.

"I withdraw that remark," he said, as soon as he could obtain a hearing.
"I not only withdraw it, but I apologize to you for my folly in making
it. It was merely thoughtlessness on my part, and, resting on your
generosity, I should like you to consider the words unsaid."

Once more eighteen of the twenty swung round to his side. Roland now
turned his attention to Conrad Kurzbold, ignoring John Gensbein, who had
sat down flushed after his declamation, bewildered by the mutability of
the many as Coriolanus had been before him.

"Herr Kurzbold," began Roland sternly, "have you any further criticism
to offer?"

"No; but I stand by what I have already said."

"Well, I thank you for your honest expression of that determination, and
I announce that you cannot accompany this expedition."

Again Roland instantaneously lost the confidence of his auditors, and
they were not slow in making him of the fact.

"This is simply tyranny," said Ebearhard. "If a man may not open his
mouth without running danger of expulsion, then all comradeship is at an
end, and I take it that good comradeship is the pivot on which this
organization turns. I do not remember that we ever placed it in the
power of our president merely by his own word to cast out one of us from
the fellowship. I may add, Roland, that you seem to harbor strange ideas
concerning rank and power. I have been a member of this guild much
longer than you, and perhaps understand better its purpose. Our leader
is not elected to govern a band of serfs. Indeed, and I say it subject
to correction from my friends, the very opposite is the case. Our leader
is our servant, and must conduct himself as we order. It is not for him
to lay down the law to us, but whatever laws exist for our governance,
and I thank Heaven there are few of them, must be settled in conclave by
a majority of the league."

"Right! Right!" was the unanimous cry, and when Ebearhard sat down all
were seated except Roland, who stood at the end of the table with pale
face and compressed lips.

"We are," he said, "about to set out against the Barons of the Rhine,
entrenched in their strong castles. Hitherto these men have been
completely successful, defying alike the Government and the people. It
was my hope that we might reverse this condition of things. Now, Brother
Ebearhard, name me a single Baron along the whole length of the Rhine
who would permit one of his men-at-arms to bandy words with him on any
subject whatever."

"I should hope," replied Ebearhard, "that we do not model our conduct
after that of a robber."

"The robbers, I beg to point out to you, Ebearhard, are successful. It
is success we are after, also a portion of that gold of which Herr
Kurzbold has pathetically proclaimed his need."

"Do you consider us your men-at-arms, then, in the same sense that a
Rhine Baron would employ the term?"

"Certainly."

"You claim the liberty of expelling any one you choose?"

"Yes; I claim the liberty to hang any of you if I find it necessary."

"Oh, the devil!" cried Ebearhard, sitting down as if this went beyond
him. He gazed up and down the table as much as to say, "I leave this in
your hands, gentlemen."

The meeting gave immediate expression of its agreement with Ebearhard.

"Gentlemen," said Roland, "I insist that Conrad Kurzbold apologizes to
me for the expressions he has used, and promises not again to offend in
like manner."

"I'll do nothing of the sort," asserted Kurzbold, with equal firmness.

"In that case," exclaimed Roland, "I shall retire, and I ask you to put
me in a position to repay Herr Goebel the money I extracted from him. I
resign the very thankless office of so-called leadership."

At this several wallets came out upon the table, but their contents
clinked rather weakly. The majority of the guild sat silent and sobered
by the crisis that had so unexpectedly come upon them. Joseph Greusel,
seeing that no one else made a move, uprose, and spoke slowly. He was a
man who never had much to say for himself; a listener rather than a
talker, in whom Roland reposed great confidence, believing him to be one
who would not flinch if trial came, and he had determined to make
Greusel his lieutenant if the expedition was not wrecked before it set
out.

"My friends," said Greusel gloomily, "we have arrived at a deadlock, and
I should not venture to speak but that I see no one else ready to make a
suggestion. I cannot claim to be non-partisan in the matter. This crisis
has been unnecessarily brought about by what I state firmly is a most
ungenerous attack on the part of Conrad Kurzbold."

There were murmurs of dissent, but Greusel proceeded stolidly, taking no
notice.

"It is not disputed that Kurzbold accepted the money from Roland last
night, spent it to-day, and now comes penniless amongst us, quite unable
to refund the amount when his unjust remarks produce their natural
effect. He is like a man who makes a wager knowing he hasn't the money
to pay should he lose. If Roland retires from this guild, I retire also,
ashamed to keep company with men who uphold a trick worthy of a ruined
gambler."

"My dear Joseph," cried Ebearhard, springing up with a laugh, "you were
misnamed in your infancy. You should have been called Herod, practically
justifying a slaughter of us innocents."

"I stand by Benjamin," growled Gruesel, "the youngest and most capable
of our circle; the one who produced the money while all the rest of us
talked."

"You never talked till now, Joseph," said Ebearhard, still trying to
ease the situation with a laugh, "and what you say is not only
deplorably severe, but uttered, as I will show you, upon entirely
mistaken grounds. We did not, and do not, support Conrad Kurzbold in
what he said at first. Now you rate us as if we were no better than
thieves. Dishonest gamblers, you call us, and Lord knows what else, and
then you threaten withdrawal. I submit that your diatribe is quite
undeserved. We all condemn Kurzbold for censuring Roland's generosity to
the merchant, unanimously upholding Roland in that action, and have said
so plainly enough. What we object to is this: Roland arrogates to
himself power which he does not possess, of peremptorily expelling any
member whose remarks displease him. Surely you cannot support him in
that any more than we."

"Let us take one thing at a time," resumed Greusel, "not forgetting from
whom came the original provocation. I must know where we stand. I
therefore move a vote of censure on Conrad Kurzbold for his unmerited
attack upon our president anent his dealings with Herr Goebel."

"I second that with great pleasure," said Ebearhard.

"Now, as we cannot ask our leader to put that motion, I shall take the
liberty of submitting it myself," continued Greusel. "All in favor of
the vote of censure which you have heard, make it manifest by standing
up."

Every one arose except Roland, Gensbein, and Kurzbold.

"There, we have removed that obstacle to a clear understanding of the
case, and before I formally deliver this vote of censure to Herr
Kurzbold, I request him to reconsider his position, and of his own
motion to make such delivery unnecessary.

"If it is the case that Roland assumes authority to expel whom he
pleases from this guild, I shall not support him."

"It _is_ the case! It _is_ the case!" shouted several.

"Pardon me, comrades; I have the floor," continued Greusel. "I am not
attempting oratory, but trying to disentangle a skein in which we have
involved ourselves. I wish to receive neither applause nor hissing until
I have finished the business. You say it is the case. I say it is not.
Roland gave Herr Kurzbold the alternative either of apologizing or of
paying over the money, so that it might be returned to the merchant. As
I understand the matter, our president does not insist on Kurzbold
leaving the guild, but merely announces his own withdrawal from it. You
have allowed Kurzbold to put you in the position of being compelled to
choose between himself and Roland. If you are logical men you cannot
pass a vote of censure on Kurzbold, and then choose him instead of
Roland. I therefore move a vote of confidence in our chief, the man who
has produced the money, a thousand thalers in all, half of which was his
own, and has divided it equally amongst us, when the landlord's bill was
paid, withholding not a single thaler, nor arrogating--I think that was
your word, friend Ebearhard--to himself a stiver more of the money than
each of the others received. While Kurzbold has prated of comradeship,
Roland has given us an excellent example of it, and I think he deserves
our warmest thanks and our cordial support. I therefore submit to you
the following motion: This meeting tenders to the president its warmest
thanks for his recent efforts on behalf of the guild, and begs to assure
him of its most strenuous assistance in carrying out the project he has
put before it to-night."

"Joseph," said Ebearhard, rising, with his usual laugh, "you are a very
clever man, although you usually persist in hiding your light under a
bushel. I desire to associate myself with the expressions you have used,
and therefore second your motion."

"I now put the resolution which you have all heard," said Greusel, "and
I ask those in favor of it to stand."

Every one stood up promptly enough except the two recalcitrants, and of
those two John Gensbein showed signs of hesitation and uneasiness. He
half rose, sat down again; then, apparently at the urging of the man
next him, stood up, a picture of irresolution. Kurzbold, finding himself
now alone, laughed, and got upon his feet, thus making the vote
unanimous. As the company seated itself, Greusel turned to the
president.

"Sir, it is said that all's well that ends well. It gives me pleasure to
tender you the unanimous vote of thanks and confidence of the
iron-workers' guild, and before calling upon you to make any reply, if
such should be your intention, I will ask Conrad Kurzbold to say a few
words, which I am sure we shall all be delighted to hear."

Kurzbold rose bravely enough, in spite of the fact that Joseph Greusel's
diplomacy had made a complete separation between him and all the others.

"I should like to say," he began, with an air of casual indifference,
"that my first mention of the money was wholly in jest. Our friend
Roland took my remarks seriously, which, of course, I should not have
resented, and there is little use in recapitulating what followed. As,
however, my utterances gave offense which was not intended by me, I have
no hesitation in apologizing for them, and withdrawing the ill-advised
sentences. No one here feels a greater appreciation of what our
president has done than I, and I hope he will accept my apology in the
same spirit in which it is tendered."

"Now, Master of the Guild," said Greusel, and Roland took the floor once
more.

"I have nothing to say but 'Thank you.' The antagonists whom we hope to
meet are men brave, determined, and ruthless. If any one in this company
holds rancor against me, I ask him to turn it towards the Barons, and
punish me after the expedition is accomplished. Let us tolerate no
disagreements in face of the foe."

The young man took his cloak and sword from the peg on which they hung,
passed down along the table, and thrust across his hand to Kurzbold, who
shook it warmly. Arriving at the door, Roland turned round.

"I wish to see Captain Blumenfels, and give him final instructions
regarding our rendezvous on the Rhine, so good-night. I hope to meet you
all under the shadow of the Elector's tower in Hochst to-morrow morning
at nine," and with that the president departed, being too inexperienced
to know that soft words do not always turn away wrath, and that mutiny
is seldom quelled with a handshake.

IV

THE DISTURBING JOURNEY OF FATHER AMBROSE

The setting summer sun shone full on the western side of Sayn Castle,
sending the shadow of that tenth-century edifice far along the
greensward of the upper valley. Upon a balcony, perched like a swallow's
nest against the eastern end of Sayn Castle, a lovely girl of eighteen
leaned, meditating, with arms resting on the balustrade, the harshness
of whose stone surface was nullified by the soft texture of a
gaudily-covered robe flung over it. This ample cloth, brought from the
East by a Crusading ancestor of the girl, made a gay patch of scarlet
and gold against the somber side of the Castle.

The youthful Countess Hildegunde von Sayn watched the slow oncoming of a
monk, evidently tired, who toiled along the hillside deep in the shadow
of the Castle, as if its cool shade was grateful to him. Belonging, as
he did, to the very practical Order of the Benedictines, whose belief
was in work sanctioned by prayer, the Reverend Father did not deny
himself this temporary refuge from the hot rays of the sun, which had
poured down upon him all day.

Looking up as he approached the stronghold, and seeing the girl, little
dreaming of the frivolous mission she would propose, he waved his hand
to her, and she responded gracefully with a similar gesture.

Indeed, however strongly the monk might disapprove, there was much to be
said in favor of the resolution to which the young lady had come. She
was well educated, probably the richest heiress in Germany, and
carefully as the pious Sisters of Nonnenwerth Convent may have concealed
the fact from her, she was extremely beautiful, and knew it, and
although the valley of the Saynbach was a very haven of peace and
prosperity, the girl became just a trifle lonely, and yearned to know
something of life and the Court in Frankfort, to which her high rank
certainly entitled her.

It is true that very disquieting rumors had reached her concerning the
condition of things in the capital city; nevertheless she determined to
learn from an authoritative source whether or not it was safe to take up
a temporary residence in Frankfort, and for this purpose the reluctant
Father Ambrose would journey southward.

Father Ambrose was more than sixty years old, and if he had belonged to
the world, instead of to religion, would have been entitled to the name
Henry von Sayn. His presence in the Benedictine Order was proof of the
fact that money will not accomplish everything. His famous, or perhaps
we should say infamous, ancestor, Count Henry III. of Sayn, who died in
1246, was a robber and a murderer, justly esteemed the terror of the
Rhine. Concealed as it was in the Sayn valley, half a league from the
great river, the situation of his stronghold favored his depredations.
He filled his warehousing rooms with merchandise from barges going down
the river, and with gold seized from unhappy merchants on their way up.
He thought no more of cutting a throat than of cutting a purse, and it
was only when he became amazingly wealthy that the increase of years
brought trouble to a conscience which all men thought had ceased to
exist. Thereupon, for the welfare of his soul, he built the Abbey of
Sayn, and provided for the monks therein. Yet, when he came to die, he
entertained fearsome, but admittedly well-founded doubts regarding his
future state, so he proceeded to sanctify a treasure no longer of any
use to him, by bequeathing it to the Church, driving, however, a bargain
by which he received assurance that his body should rest quietly in the
tomb he had prepared for himself within the Abbey walls.

He was buried with impressive ceremony, and the monks he had endowed did
everything to carry out their share of the pact. The tomb was staunchly
built with stones so heavy that no ordinary ghost could have emerged
therefrom, but to be doubly sure a gigantic log was placed on top of it,
strongly clamped down with concealed bands of iron, and, so that this
log might not reveal its purpose, the monks cunningly carved it into
some semblance of Henry himself, until it seemed a recumbent statue of
the late villainous Count.

But despite such thoughtfulness their plan failed, for when next they
visited the tomb the statue lay prone, face downwards, as if some
irresistible, unseen power had flung it to the stone flags of the floor.
Replacing the statue, and watching by the tomb, was found to be of
little use. The watchers invariably fell asleep, and the great wooden
figure, which during their last waking moments lay gazing towards the
roof, was now on its face on the monastery floor, peering down in the
opposite direction, and this somehow was regarded by the brethren as a
fact of ominous significance.

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