Barr Robert
Tekla

CHAPTER XVI
THE COUNTESS TRIES TO TAME THE BEAR

Once more Tekla and Rodolph found themselves on the battlements. The flag hung listless at the top of the pole in the still air, as if the time for action had not yet arrived. On a hill summit further up the river another flag was fluttering, and on the other side, still more distant, a third flag was being slowly raised against the sky. Whether or not this betokened the coming of the Archbishop, Rodolph could not determine. The nearer flag seemed to be of the same design as the one that hung over Thuron; the third flag was too far away to allow its character to be discerned. The line of peasants winding up from the river and stretching along the banks had taken up the cheering which echoed lustily from hill to hill. It was evident that that most infectious malady, the war spirit, was abroad, for fighting songs, ringing and truculent, with swinging, inspiring choruses, were being chanted in the village and along the river. Some rumour or suspicion of what was going forward had undoubtedly permeated the mass of people collected within and under shadow of the castle; Rodolph felt the enthusiasm of coming battle in the air. Yet these people had always been tyrannised over by the Black Count, and this was probably the first time he had paid for what he took from them. Nevertheless, they were shouting for him, and woe betide the man who now raised his voice against him. As Rodolph looked on in wonderment, the Black Count himself came up the steps that led to the lofty promenade, and there was a gleam of fierce delight in his dark eye as he swept it over the animated scene. Some of the songs sung had evidently not been intended as complimentary to the Count when they were originally composed, but now the singers had either forgotten the first import of the words, or had added others that turned censure into laudation. The burden of the chorus in one of them was "The Devil is black," a line oft repeated, and ending with a phrase which betokened the ultimate fate of his sable majesty. Although some unthinkingly, carried away by the enthusiasm of the occasion, repeated the old ending, the majority gave the new rendering, which was to the effect that their devil was more than a match for any other devil in existence. The Count as he approached the two young people standing by the parapet, had shaken off much of his habitual gloom, and was even humming to himself the catching refrain referring to the blackness of the devil, quite unheeding any personal reference it might contain.

"Good day to you, my Lord Count," said Rodolph. "You have had little rest since I last spoke with you. Do the flags on the hill-tops betoken the coming of Treves?"

"No, they are my signals, already agreed upon, to let the peasants know the castle can hold no more. Thuron has had a full meal, and now let Arnold come on when he pleases: we are ready for him."

"Shall you not follow the castle's example, uncle?" said Tekla. "You must be both tired and hungry I have a meal in preparation for you."

"Hungry always; tired never. The loss of one night's sleep is nothing to me. If it were ten I might wrap my coat about me and look for a corner to lie down in. I shall eat with my men in the great hall, child, so never depend upon me for a table companion, but dine when and where it pleases you. I place few restrictions upon those within these walls, and suffer none at all to bind myself. Go therefore to your apartments; the ramparts are for men-at-arms and not for women. I wish to have some words with this gentleman."

"Nay, but uncle," pleaded Tekla, in a pretty tone of entreaty, placing her small white hand on his gigantic stalwart arm, "I have appointed myself caterer of the castle and must not have my housewifely arts so slighted by the chief thereof."

"Uncle me not so frequently," he cried, with rude impatience, trying to shake off her hand; but it clung there like a snowflake against a piece of rock. "I am rarely in the humour for pretty phrases. I am not a man of words, but a man of action."

"Then, mine only uncle, as you yourself reminded me last night, come and show yourself a man of action against the meal I shall prepare for you."

Black Heinrich glanced helplessly at Rodolph with so much of comic discomfiture that the young man had some ado to keep his countenance.

"If I had a score of uncles," continued Tekla. "I might lavish my kindness on them one after another; as I have but one he must be patient with me, and take to my civilising influence with the best grace he may. You will come then when I send for you?"

"Well, well," said the Count gruffly, so that his giving way might attract the less notice, "if you leave us now, I will go."

When Tekla had departed and the two men were left alone together, Rodolph was the first to speak.

"I know not what you have to say to me, my Lord Count, but I have something to say to you. Last night you told me I was not a prisoner, yet was I treated like one when I left you. I protested against being barred in, and was informed that when you ordered a guest to the round chamber, the bolting was included in the hospitality. I should like, therefore, to know what my standing is in this castle. Am I a prisoner at night, and a free man during the day, or what?"

"It is on that subject that I wish to speak with you," said the Black Count. "We were in a mixed company last night, and it was not convenient for me to enter into explanations, which I propose now to do. I am still in some ignorance concerning your part in this flight from Treves. Perhaps you will first tell me exactly who you are, what is your quality, and where your estates lie, if you have any?"

Rodolph had anticipated such inquiry and had thought deeply how he should answer when it was propounded. He had come to the conclusion that there would be great danger in making full confession to the Black Count, known far and near as a ruthless marauder, who, but for the strength and practically unassailable position of his castle, would have been laid by the heels long before, if not by Emperor or Archbishop, or surrounding nobles, by the banded merchants on whom he levied relentless tribute. To put such a man in possession of the fact that he had in his power the Emperor of all the land, was to take a leap into a chasm, the bottom of which no eye could see. With such an important hostage what might not the ambition of the Black Count tempt him to do? No friend that Rodolph possessed had the slightest hint of the Emperor's position. It would be as difficult for him to get out of Thuron without its owner's permission, as it was like to prove for the Archbishop to get in. The Black Count was surrounded by daring and reckless men, to whom his word was law, and it was not probable that, in case of need, Rodolph could hold his sword aloft and shout 'The Emperor,' with any hope that a single warrior would rally to his side. He had learned much in his short journey through his own domains. He found that where his own title had no magic in its sound, the cry of 'The Archbishop,' had placed an army at his command, and had turned the tide of battle that had threatened to overwhelm him at Bruttig. If then he ever hoped to make the name of the Emperor as potent a spell, he must, until he reached Frankfort again, keep his identity a secret. Therefore he fell back on the old fiction that he was a silk merchant at Frankfort, in support of which he had a passport to show.

"My Lord Count, this passport will tell you my name and quality, and will also give reason for my journey from Frankfort to Treves, at which latter place, through an entirely unexpected series of circumstances, I came to lend aid to your niece in her escape from Arnold's stronghold. Until I arrived in Treves a few short days ago I had never heard of the lady. I am, as you will see by the parchment you hold in your hand, a silk merchant of Frankfort, who journeyed to Treves with a friend, to discover there the prospect of trade."

"A merchant!" cried Heinrich, frowning, and making no effort to conceal the contempt in which he held such a calling. "I understood you to say last night that you were noble, and laid claim to the title of lord."

"I am as noble as yourself, my Lord Count, although not so renowned. Many of us in these times of peace have taken to trade, and yet are none the less ready to maintain our nobility at the point of the sword, should our title be called into question. Indeed I have heard that you yourself have on various occasions engaged in traffic of silk and other merchandise which passes your doors, and have become rich by such dealing. The only difference between you and me as traders is that I make less profit in the transaction than you do, as I am compelled to pay for the goods I resell."

Heinrich bent his lowering brow over the parchment he held in his hand, but whether it conveyed any meaning to his mind or not, Rodolph was unable to conjecture. There was, for some moments, silence between them, then the Count spoke:

"Are you a rich merchant?"

"I am not poor."

"You have had a hand in bringing me to the pass I find myself in, it is but right then that you should see me out, or further in; but right or wrong it is my intention to hold you, and if disaster comes, I shall make you bear some share in it. It is useless for me to demand ransom for you now, because if the Archbishop knock down my house he will lay hands on whatever treasure lies therein. When we come to an end of the siege then I shall compound with you on terms that may seem to me just or otherwise, depending in a measure on how you hereafter comport yourself. If you give me your word of honour that you will make no attempt to leave the castle without my permission, then I will accept it as you accepted mine yesterday, and you shall be as free as any man within the castle. If you will not give me your word then you are prisoner, and shall be treated as such; in fact, I have some men-at-arms within call who will at once convey you to the round chamber, there to rest until my contest with the Archbishop is decided."

"Then, my Lord, is your word of little value, for you promised that I should be free to pursue my way to Frankfort in the morning if the archer spared you."

"Not so. I promised you your life."

"Very well. We shall have no argument about it. I give you my word, and I swear to keep it as faithfully as you have kept yours."

Heinrich looked sternly at his guest with a suspicious expression which seemed to say: "Now what devilish double meaning is there in that?"

Up from the outside of the walls came the chorus "The Devil is black," and Rodolph smiled as the refrain broke the stillness.

"Do you mean to impugn my word?" Heinrich said aloud.

"Nothing is further from my intention. I mean to emulate it. It is my ambition to keep my word as fully as you keep yours, and you can ask no better guarantee than that, can you? The truth is I am as anxious to see the outcome of this contest as you are, and I intend to be in the thick of it. If you imprison me, the chances are that you will thrust bolt on the only man of brains in the place, not excepting your august self, for although you may be a stubborn fighter, I doubt if you know much of strategy, or can see far ahead of your prominent nose. So, my Lord, you may act as best pleases you, and call up all the men-at-arms in the castle, if their presence comforts you. If you trust me, I may, at a critical moment, be of vast assistance to you. It is even possible that should the Archbishop press you too closely, I may, by slipping out of Thuron, make way through his camp and, gathering my own men, fall on him unexpectedly from behind, thus confusing your foe. If you choose to treat me as a prisoner, then do you put your wits against mine, and you will wake up some morning to find three of your best men gone. So, my Lord, ponder on that, and lay what course you choose."

It was plain that the unready Count was baffled by the free and easy manner in which the other addressed him. The same feeling of mental inferiority which he had felt in Rodolph's presence the night before, again came over him, and, while it angered him, his caution whispered the suggestion that here was a possible ally who might in stress prove most valuable. Never had Heinrich met one apparently helpless, who seemed so careless what his jailer might think or do. The Count wished he had braved the archer's shaft, taken the risk of it, and hanged this man out of hand. However, it was too late to think of that now, and he asked, keeping control of his rising temper:

"How many men answer to your call?"

"Enough to make the Archbishop prefer, at any time, that they be not thrown in the scale against him. More than enough when he faces so doughty and brave a warrior as the devil of Thuron, regarding whose colour and fate those peasants outside are chanting."

"I take your word," cried Heinrich, with sudden impetuousness. "I should, of course, allow you to go free to Frankfort, but I beg of you to remain with me. I ask you not to leave until you have consulted with me, but, excepting that condition, you are as free of the castle as I am."

"Spoken like a true nobleman, and on such basis we shall have no fault to find with each other. And now I request your permission to send a messenger at once to Treves."

"To Treves!" cried the Black Count, the old look of fierce suspicion coming again into his piercing eyes. "Why to Treves? The archer wants to go to Treves. You want to send to Treves. It is nothing but Treves, Treves, Treves, till I am sick of the name. Why to Treves?"

"It is a very simple matter, my Lord Count. I told you I came from Frankfort with a friend. I also informed you that I took this journey down the Moselle most unexpectedly. My friend, who distrusts the Archbishop as much as you distrust him, and more if that be possible, is now in Treves not knowing what has become of me. He will imagine that the Archbishop has me by the heels, and may get himself into trouble by attempting my liberation. I wish, therefore, to get word to him of my whereabouts, not only that his just anxiety may be relieved, but also that if we are hard pressed, he may come to our timely rescue."

"If we are to trust each other, I must have fuller knowledge. Who is your friend?"

"The Baron von Brunfels."

"What? Siegfried von Brunfels of the Rhine? The friend of the Emperor?"

"The same."

"He has enough retainers of his own to raise the siege of Thuron if he wished to do so."

"That is true. All the more reason then that he should be acquainted with the fact that his friend is here, for, from what I have heard him say of you, he would never stir a man through love of Heinrich of Thuron."

"If Baron von Brunfels is your friend, you are no merchant."

"Indeed, I have often thought so; for I make some amazingly bad bargains."

"Should the Archbishop and his men come on, it will not be possible for a single horseman to get through to Treves. I do not wish to lose the archer, nor can I spare one of my own men. Do you intend yourself to go to Treves."

"No. Neither do I desire to lose the archer, even though he should bring back his equal with the bow, which would be his purpose in setting out. He has a friend, he says, who excels him in skill, although that I doubt. I desire to send my own man, Conrad, who knows Treves, and who was in the employ of the Baron. He will win his way through if any one can, and may bring the other archer back with him. Besides, there is a chance that the crafty Arnold is not yet on the move, and it would be interesting to learn something of what is going on in Treves, and what happened when the valiant Count Bertrich returned to his master. This, Conrad can discover much more effectually than the archer, for he is intelligent, and loves not the sound of his own voice as does our bowman. Conrad is a listener rather than a talker; I cannot say the same for the skilful arrow-maker."

In deep doubt Black Heinrich stood gazing on the stones at his feet. He was outmanœuvred, yet knew not how to help himself. Full authority was his, yet the control of affairs seemed slipping from his grasp. He had not entertained the slightest intention of allowing any one from the castle to depart for Treves, yet here he felt he was about to consent. He chafed at the turn things had taken, but knew not how to amend them. If he refused permission to everything proposed, he feared he might be making a fool of himself, and acting against his own interests, and worse, that the cool confident young man would know he was making a fool of himself, and despise him accordingly; still, he was loath to allow even the semblance of power to pass away from him.

"I like not this traffic with Treves," he said, at last.

"Nor do I. Still I am determined in some fashion to let Brunfels know where I am. Further than that I shall tell him nothing, if such knowledge is against your wish; but if you give your consent I shall ask him to keep an eye on this siege; and if, as is very likely, you beat off Arnold, he is not to interfere, but if you are getting the worst of it, there is little harm in having a friend outside on whom we can, in emergency, call. It all rests with you, my Lord; I merely make suggestions, and if they do not jump with your liking then they are of little value. Your experience is greater than mine, and your courage is unquestioned. A man less brave might hesitate to lay plans for emergencies, but with you it is different. Therefore you have but to command and I shall obey. I shall send word to Brunfels of my own safety to relieve his anxiety, and I shall ask him to keep an eye on the siege if you care to have me do so. It can at least bring us no harm."

The Count looked at the speaker with an expression in which distrust seemed to be fighting with gratification. There was at first a lurking fear that the young man was trifling with him, but the other's serene countenance gave no indication of lack of earnestness, and Heinrich's own self-esteem was so great that no praise of his courage could seem to him overdrawn. When all suspicion of Rodolph's good faith had been allayed, he said, heartily:

"Send what message you will to the Baron. We may be none the worse for a stroke from him at the right time."

With that the Count strode away, and Rodolph gave his instructions to Conrad, watching him ride from the gates in the direction of the Frankfort road, with the passport of the silk merchant in his pocket.

CHAPTER XVII
THE ENVOY'S DISASTROUS RETURN

The sun rose and set, and rose and set again, before news came to Castle Thuron. There was no sign of an enemy; the Moselle valley, as seen from the round towers, seemed a very picture of peace. During these two days the air was still, the flag drooped, unfluttering, from its staff, and the sun shone warmly in the serene heavens. Yet there was something ominous in the silence, and each person in the castle felt, more or less, the tension of the time. Black Heinrich scanned the distance from the battlements with growing impatience, for, like all men of action, he chafed at the delay and was eager for the fight to come on, even should it prove disastrous to him. Anything seemed better than this newsless waiting. The huge gates were never opened; in fact, it was now impossible to open them, for the outer courtyard was partly filled with sacks of grain and butts of wine, which were piled in a great heap against the two leaves of the gate, and any one desiring to depart from the castle had to climb down from the platform over the gates by a ladder resting there, which could be pulled up at any moment's notice. The two days were a most enjoyable interval for Rodolph, who spent much of his time, in ever increasing delight, with the Countess Tekla. Yet there was an alloy in his happiness. He felt that he was not wise in lingering in Thuron, which at any moment might prove a trap from which escape was impossible, either through the Count learning who he actually was, and thereupon imprisoning him to make the most of his detention, or through the sudden beleaguering of the castle by forces from Treves. His confidence that Conrad would reach his friend in the house by the city wall quieted his conscience, which with some persistence was telling him that he neglected duty and high affairs of state, all for the sake of spending the golden hours with a fascinating girl of nineteen.

But these qualms left him when in her presence, and as he spent much of his time with her, there was little chance for his conscience to work a reformation. He consoled himself with the reflection that a man can be young but once, and there was probably a long life before him which he could energetically devote to the service of his country. He knew that Baron von Brunfels would carry out faithfully his instructions in Frankfort, and if the Emperor's presence became necessary there, he would bring on a force that neither the Archbishop nor Black Heinrich could cope with, did either attempt to detain him against his will. He had unlimited faith in Brunfels' judgment, and thus he lulled disquieting thought. Nevertheless he knew that his place was at Frankfort and not in Thuron, where, if the turbulent Archbishop moved an armed man without his sovereign's consent, that sovereign could emerge from the capital at the head of the German army and bid the haughty prelate back to Treves; yet prudence told him such a course might plunge the country into civil war, for he knew not the exact military strength of the Archbishop, and was well aware that his own army should be considerably augmented before it undertook so hazardous a commission, for nothing short of overwhelming force might overawe the fighting Lord of Treves. In truth it was to see for himself what manner of man the Archbishop was, and to form some estimate of the forces at his back, that the secret journey to Treves had been taken, now so strangely deflected from its original purpose. Both the Emperor and von Brunfels believed that the present strength of the army at Frankfort was not sufficient to cope with the battalions of Treves, especially if the Archbishops of Cologne and Mayence made common cause with their brother in the West – an eventuality not at all improbable. The first step then, should be the return of the Emperor to his capital, to be followed by a quiet increase of the imperial army until it reached such strength that no combination could prevail against it. Rodolph knew his duty, yet silken fetters held him from action. Had he been certain of the sentiments of Tekla regarding himself he would have spoken to her, without revealing his identity, and then might perhaps have made arrangement with her uncle by which he could proceed to Frankfort, but although the events of a lifetime had been compressed within the last week, yet he could not conceal from himself the fact that the Countess had known him for three or four days only, and he felt that to speak to her at the present moment would be premature. Of course it was quite within his right to assume his place at the head of the state once more, and demand the lady, in which case neither her guardian nor the Count would dare refuse, nor would one of them be the least likely to refuse, for Black Heinrich was not the man to underestimate the qualification of relationship with an Empress. But the Emperor was in no mind to follow the example of Count Bertrich, and accept an unwilling wife.

He set before himself the enticing task of winning the lady as a nameless lord, letting her imagine that he was perhaps not her equal in station or fortune, and then, when consent had been willingly gained, to demand her from his throne, allowing himself to dwell with pleasure on her amazement at learning that her Emperor and her lover were one and the same person.

But there was savage news in store for him, and for all within Castle Thuron; news that made his rosy dreams dissolve as the light river mists dissolve before the fierce midsummer sun. On the evening of the third day after Conrad's departure, an unkempt, tattered figure staggered from the forest and came tottering towards the gate of the castle. The archer, on duty above the gate, drew string to ear and ordered the fugitive to halt and explain himself. The forlorn man raised his hands above his head, gave a despairing upward look, took two faltering steps forward and fell prone on his face, as the bowman relaxing his weapon, and peering eagerly forward, cried aloud:

"My God, it is Conrad!"

Then instantly forgetting his duty as guardian of the gate, he dropped bow and sprang down the ladder, running to his fallen comrade. The news spread through the castle with marvellous rapidity, and the Black Count and Rodolph were on the battlements above the gate before the archer and some of the garrison had hoisted the insensible man up the ladder.

"Take him to the great hall; he is wounded and seems famished as well. Perhaps a cup of wine will revive him; meanwhile keep strict watch on the gate; those who have pursued him cannot be far distant. Draw up the ladder and man the battlements, Steinmetz."

The Captain at once gave the necessary commands, while those who had rescued Conrad carried him to the great hall and laid him on a bench. His clothes were in rags, and his face gaunt from fatigue or want. As Heinrich had suggested, a cup of wine held to his lips revived him, and, opening his eyes, he glanced at Rodolph and gasped:

"We are completely surrounded, my Lord."

"Impossible!" cried Rodolph. "The Archbishop could never have moved his troops so quickly."

The Black Count said nothing, but scowled down on the wounded man, whose garments the leech was removing in order to apply ointment to wounds evidently caused by shafts from the crossbow. John Surrey looked on these wounds with a lofty contempt, muttering:

"If I had drawn string at him there would be fewer hurts, but he would not be here to tell what happened."

Conrad drank a full flagon of wine, which revived him sufficiently to enable him to tell his adventures. He had directed his horse towards the Roman road between Frankfort and Treves, but on approaching it saw troops. Turning back he proceeded further west, but came again upon armed men. In neither case was he himself seen. Retracing his way, he tried to pass to the west, nearer to the river, but there also he found an encampment. Surmising now that the wide space between the Roman road and the Moselle was in the Archbishop's hands, and that there was no chance of penetrating towards Treves in that direction, he resolved to make for Frankfort itself, get to the south of the Roman road, and reach Treves round about, through the great forest. To his amazement here also he saw portions of the army, and it began to dawn upon him that the castle was environed, at least on the south. He now determined to make no more attempts to break the circle, but return to Thuron and report the alarming situation he had discovered. In journeying through the forest towards the castle he came unexpectedly upon a camp, and there, for the first time, was seen by the enemy. He tried flight, but a crossbow bolt brought down his horse and resulted in his capture. It never occurred to those who held him prisoner, that he had come from Thuron; in fact they readily believed he was, what his passport proclaimed him, a merchant from Frankfort who was trying to reach Treves. They assured him that such a journey was impossible at the present moment, but said he could get through unmolested when the troops had drawn closer round Thuron. They kept him merely a nominal prisoner, paid little attention to him, and talked freely before him, having no suspicion that he belonged to the castle. Nothing was said of the flight of the Countess Tekla, and he surmised from this that her sudden departure was unknown. It was believed that the investment of Thuron had been projected for a long time, and that the Archbishop had struck thus suddenly to take the Black Count unaware. From the fact that the troops had been sent along the Roman road in detachments, Conrad inferred that they were there when Count Bertrich had flung his glove on the floor of Thuron. In like manner part of an army had been sent down the river to Cochem, and from that place had pushed round the castle on the north side of the stream until they saw their comrades on the other shore, while between the two camps a chain had been stretched and all traffic up and down the river stopped. But the most startling part of Conrad's budget was this. The Archbishop of Cologne had come through the Eifel region to Treves and had joined hands with his colleague, Arnold von Isenberg. Troops were then marching up the Rhine from Cologne, and the two Electors had made common cause regarding the reduction of Thuron. The army of Treves had surrounded the castle, and would draw closer the moment the army of Cologne arrived. It was supposed that the speedy environment of the place was to prevent the Black Count and his company from escaping to the Rhine or to Frankfort. Conrad learned all this on the evening of the first day, and, watching his opportunity, made his escape, but was seen by the guards, whose bolts came near to making an end of him. For two nights and two days he wandered without food in the forest, not knowing his whereabouts, and following streams which he expected would lead him to the Moselle, but was often forced to abandon them because of the hostile parties encamped near their waters, and thus at last he had reached Thuron.

The Emperor listened to this recital, appalled at the position in which he found himself. With the two Archbishops besieging the castle, there would be small chance of his reaching Frankfort, and as the ultimate reduction of the castle was now certain, he would find himself the prisoner of his two turbulent and powerful subjects, Treves and Cologne, confronted with the problem of whether he preferred being hanged as an accomplice of the dark marauder who stood by his side, or revealing his identity and taking what chance might offer when the knowledge was thus brought to the Archbishops. Meanwhile his friend, Baron von Brunfels, would not have the slightest inkling of his whereabouts, and if the disappearance of the Countess was thus kept secret, as seemed to be the intention of Arnold and Count Bertrich, Brunfels would not be able to hazard even a guess. However, there was this consolation, that at no time could he have escaped from Thuron. He was in effect trapped the moment he set foot within its gates. Had he, with the Countess, set out the following morning for Frankfort they would evidently have been intercepted by the Archbishop's troops, and had he alone attempted to reach his capital the same fate would have been in store for him. His only regret now was that von Brunfels must remain in ignorance of his position, but, as he had done his best to remedy that, he could only blame fate for its unkindness to him.