Barr Robert
Tekla

The Black Count listened in sombre taciturnity to Conrad's record and spoke no word when it was finished, but stood there in deep thought, his eyes on the floor. Rodolph was the first to break the ensuing silence.

"You see, my Lord Count, the case stands as I expected. It was Arnold's intention to have besieged you, and he has craftily entered into negotiations with Cologne, doubtless fearing to attack you alone. This scheme has been some time in concocting, and the flight of the Countess, so far from bringing on the contest, has merely given you bare time for preparation."

Heinrich gave utterance to an exclamation which can be designated only by the inelegant term, grunt. It was his favourite method of expression when perturbed. He did not raise his eyes from the floor, nor did he reply.

"The fact that two Archbishops instead of one do you the honour to besiege you should really not have much bearing on the result. I doubt if they can carry the castle by storm, so their numbers are of little avail to them. They can but starve you, and that one Archbishop could have done as well as two. I suppose you have at least a year's provision now in the vaults?"

"Two years," answered the Black Count, gruffly. "I shall turn out of the castle all but fighting men. Not an extra mouth shall remain within the walls."

"You surely do not intend to turn the Countess Tekla and your own Countess from Thuron?" cried Rodolph in alarm.

Heinrich looked sullenly at him for some moments, and then said:

"No. Neither do I care to be questioned, and, least of all, interfered with. You see how much your precious scheme for informing Baron von Brunfels is worth, therefore be not so forward with advice or comment."

"I beg to call your Lordship's attention to the fact," said Rodolph, with cool firmness, "that my precious scheme has informed you of the odds against you. You may take the knowledge with the petulance of a woman or the courage of a man, as best befits you. A gloomy brow never yet encouraged beleaguered garrison. If you hold off this pair of prelates with their armies for a year or more, then will your name be renowned in song and story wherever brave deeds are valued, and the two Archbishops will become the laughing stock of Christendom. By my good sword, the carvers of the Black Forest shall make wooden figures of them butting their twin heads against Thuron, and the children of the world from now till doomsday will pull a string to see them jump. 'As foolish and as futile as the two Archbishops' will pass into a proverb, or perhaps it will be 'As brave as Heinrich of Thuron.' You have indeed an opportunity which falls to but few, if you meet it with unwrinkled brow."

The Count's countenance had perceptibly cleared while this recital was going on, but he made no direct reply, merely telling the attendants to convey Conrad to a room and see that he was well cared for. Then he asked that Captain Steinmetz be brought before him, and when that ruddy, uncomely officer entered, he said:

"Have you disposed your men along the walls?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Are any of the Archbishop's troops yet in sight?"

"No, my Lord."

"Send a trusty man to Alken, and tell the dwellers therein that we are to be besieged by the Archbishops of Treves and Cologne. Ask them to spread the news along either bank of the river with these instructions, that all are to make the best terms with the Archbishops they can; to sell their provisions and wine for the most money obtainable, preferring the gold to their Lordships' blessings, if they take my advice. Tell them I shall look out for myself, but that I cannot offer protection to any outside the castle walls; therefore, I shall in future, if victorious, not hold it against any man that he has saved his skin, or his grain, or his wine, by denouncing me. Make all arrangement for the women folk and very old men who are now in the castle. Pay for a year's keep of each of them, and say that if more money is required I shall see they get it. Marshal the non-combatants over the wall and down the ladders as quickly as may be, and if any have friends in the village with whom they prefer to lodge, arrange it to their satisfaction."

"All the women, my Lord?" cried Steinmetz, in astonishment.

"All the women in the castle, with the exception of my wife and my niece, and all the old men incapable of bearing arms."

Steinmetz hesitated, yet seemed incapable of protest.

"Well!" roared the Black Count.

"There will be grumbling among the men, my Lord."

Heinrich brought his huge fist down on the table with a resounding blow.

"Bring me the head of the first man who grumbles. Go and execute your orders, send the women away at once, and they will the sooner make terms with their innkeepers."

Steinmetz departed, and the Black Count strode up and down the room, muttering to himself and scowling like a demon. Rodolph saw he was not in a humour to be remonstrated with, and so said nothing; indeed he understood the military necessity of the apparently harsh measures the Count proposed in deporting from the castle all those who were not necessary to its defence, yet who would likely come to no ill through leaving the fortress. For a long time there was silence in the room, broken only by the Count's measured stride on the oaken floor, in the centre of which Count Bertrich's glove lay pinned with arrows. Rodolph himself was in no pleasant temper, and he looked ahead with some dismay toward imprisonment in a castle which was commanded by so rude and disagreeable a person as the swarthy Count. The archer stood guard at the door, having been set there by the Count's command when Steinmetz's men took their places on the walls. Rodolph wished that he might go to the entrance and talk with the good-natured bowman as an antidote to the gruffness of the Count, whom he found becoming more and more unbearable. There had been moments when he thought the Count might be won over by judicious flattery and soothing compliments, but as he learned more of his temperament he saw that all this had but a transient effect upon him; that, indeed, the Count resented any superior readiness shown by others in conversation; and, in addition, had a nature so suspicious that after having had time to think on what had been said, he became more intractable than ever, evidently coming to the conclusion that the wheedling phrases used to him had been spoken for the purpose of mollifying him and attaining certain ends, all of which he resented.

Presently Rodolph was startled from his reverie by the entrance of the Countess Tekla, accompanied by Hilda, who was weeping. A rich colour mantled the cheeks of the Countess, and it needed no second glance to see that she was in a state of angry indignation. Rodolph, remembering that she expected to civilise her uncle, began to have doubts of her success. Heinrich stopped in his walk when she came in, and glared blackly at her but without speaking.

"Oh, uncle, uncle!" cried Tekla, her voice showing she was nearer tears than the haughty expression of her face indicated, "you surely cannot intend that Hilda and I are to be separated, and that she, a stranger to all here and in Alken, is to be taken to the village?"

"I will have no interference with my orders, Tekla – not from any one."

"But one person more or less can make no difference in the result of the siege. If you think it will, give Hilda and me a single share of food between us, but do not send her away."

The Black Count with almost inarticulate rage at this crossing of his will, beat the table with his fist repeatedly, but seemed unable to speak. He stuttered, with white foam flecking his lips and his black beard. Rodolph edged nearer the Countess, and in a whisper begged her to go away; that unexpected tidings seemed to have for the moment overcome the Count's self-control.

"But they are waiting outside to take Hilda with them. They will seize her unless the order is countermanded," cried the Countess.

"It is war, you fool!" at last roared the Count. "If I have another word from you, huzzy! I shall send you also with your Treves trollop; a fine to-do about a menial like her! And from you, who are the cause of all our trouble."

"You know that is a lie," said Rodolph, quietly.

The Count turned on the young man with an expression like that of a ravenous wolf; his jaw dropped, showing his white teeth against the jet black of his beard. He seemed about to spring at Rodolph's throat, but his wild eye, wandering to the door, saw the dreaded archer on the alert, watching with absorbed interest the loud-talking group in the centre of the room. His weapon seemed itself on the alert, and there was enough of sanity somewhere in the Count's brain to bid him pause in his projected onslaught. But the fact that he had to check himself added fuel to his anger.

"Get you out of this!" he shrieked; "all of you. I am master of this castle, and none breathes herein but by my permission, man or woman. Whoever questions my authority by word or look, dies. Now, out with you!"

Before any could move Steinmetz strode into the hall, holding by the hair a human head lopped off at the neck, raggedly, the red drops falling on the floor as he walked.

"There, my Lord," he said, holding up the ghastly trophy at arm's length, while he cast a malignant leer at Rodolph, who involuntarily shrank from the hideous object. Even the Black Count himself seemed taken aback by the sudden apparition that confronted him.

"What … what is that?" he stammered.

"The head of the first man who grumbled at your command about the women, my Lord. I obeyed your orders and struck off his head."

Rodolph, pale as the dead face, stepped hurriedly between it and the Countess, but not in time to prevent her getting sight of it. She raised a terrified scream that rang to the rafters and covered her eyes with her hands, tottering backwards, while Hilda implored her to withdraw, saying she would go anywhere the Count ordered, and begged her mistress not to cross him. Rodolph sprang quickly to the side of the Countess and supported her. The scream once more aroused the tigerous anger of her uncle. His eyes shot fire as he shouted:

"You did right, Steinmetz, and I am glad there is one man in the castle who obeys the master of it unquestioning. It is war!" and as with increased violence the Black Count roared these words, he smote the grinning head with his gigantic paw and sent it spinning along the floor like a round projectile from a catapult.

"It is not war, it is murder!" wailed the Countess. "There is a curse on this doomed roof, and it shall fall in deserved ruin."

"Hush, hush," whispered Rodolph in her ear. "Bend to the storm; nothing can be done with him now."

"I am going with Hilda; I am going with Hilda. I care not where, so long as it is away from Thuron."

"No, no. Hilda will be safe enough, while you are not, outside those walls. Let me conduct you to your apartments, and I will be surety that you shall see Hilda shortly. For her sake as well as your own, bend to the storm. Don't you see you are dealing with a madman?"

Count Heinrich stood watching them, laughing in short snarling harsh snatches that did indeed resemble the ejaculations of a lunatic, but he made no attempt to interfere with them. Hilda, thoroughly hysterical through fear, leaving her mistress in the care of Rodolph, had flung herself at the feet of the Count, beseeching him to deal with her as he pleased, saying she would go anywhere he ordered her to go, and in the same breath imploring him not to be harsh with her mistress.

"Take her away, Steinmetz," commanded Heinrich, spurning her with his foot. "Send her down to the village."

The Captain, grasping her wrist, jerked her rudely to her feet, pushed past Rodolph and the Countess, dragging the girl out with him. The Countess seemed again about to protest, pausing in her progress, but the young man urged her towards the door, still counselling silence.

"Shall I pin him to the wall?" whispered the archer, who had been watching the scene with wide open eyes, his fingers twitching for the string, on tension for any sign from his master that might be constructed into permission to launch a shaft. "It seems high time."

"No," said Rodolph, sternly. "Keep true guard where you stand. See nothing, and say nothing."

Man and woman disappeared, leaving the archer murmuring that he wished his master had some courage. The Black Count now alone, except for the silent archer at the door, resumed his walk up and down, first savagely kicking the decapitated head from his path.

CHAPTER XVIII
A TWO-HANDED SWORD TEACHES DEPORTMENT

The archer on guard in the Rittersaal stood with his back to the doorway, bow ready to hand, his mouth pursed as if he were silently whistling, his eyes upraised to the ceiling, seeing nothing and saying nothing, as had been his orders. There was a look of seraphic calm on his face, as if he had never spent a more enjoyable half-hour than that which had just so tumultuously terminated.

In a short time the heavy curtains that concealed the entrance to the room parted, and the Emperor reentered alone. His face was pale and his lips were tightly drawn. The Count stopped in his walk at the further end of the room, and turned to face the incomer.

"Well, my Lord," he said, a savage leer of triumph in his red eyes, "you have seen, I hope, who is master of this castle. There have been indications that you supposed I was to be cajoled by flattery into relaxing my authority; but we shall have no more of that, I trust, and there will hereafter be no question regarding whose will is law within these walls."

"On the contrary, Count of Thuron," said Rodolph, with deferential smoothness, "it is that very question I now propose to discuss with you."

"I will have no more discussion," cried the Count, his anger returning. "There shall be nothing but the giving of orders here and the prompt obedience of them."

"Ah, in that I quite follow your Lordship, and have great pleasure for once in agreeing entirely with the valiant Count of the lower Moselle. Archer, close the doors and bar them."

The archer, a smile coming into his cherubic face, dived behind the hangings and disappeared.

"Hold!" roared the Count. "Stand to your guard, and obey no orders but mine."

There came from behind the curtains the clanking sound of the two heavy oaken leaves clashing together, then the shooting of bolts and the down-coming of the weighty timber bar, capable of standing almost any assault likely to be made against them. Again the rich hangings parted and the archer stood once more before them, his eyes on the ceiling and lips prepared to whistle.

"Do you mean to defy me in my own hall of Thuron?" said the Count, in low, threatening tones, glaring luridly from under his bushy black brows at his opponent.

"Oh, defiance is a cheap commodity, and I have heard much of it since I entered this castle. Of ranting and of shouting I have had enough. I propose now to see what capable action is at the back of all this plenitude of wind."

The wall to the right was covered with many weapons and hung with armour. The Emperor took down a huge two-handed sword, similar to the terrific weapon Beilstein's captain had used so futilely against him at Bruttig. He held it in both hands and seemed to estimate the weight of it, shaking it before him. Then with the point of this sword placed under a similar weapon that hung against the wall, he flipped it from its fastenings and sent it, with ringing clangor, to the floor almost at the feet of the Black Count, who stood with folded arms and face like a thunder cloud, watching the movements of the younger man. He was swordsman enough to know that the very manner in which Rodolph handled the weapon to estimate its weight and balance, proved him an adversary not to be lightly encountered. He made no motion to lift the blade at his feet.

"Is this, then, to be a duel at which no witnesses of mine are present?"

"It is no duel," cried Rodolph, his control over himself for the moment dissolving in the white heat of his continued anger. "It is to be the chastisement of a craven hound. Not a single honourable wound shall I inflict upon you. You shall either kill me, or I will punish you as a cowardly dog is punished. Up with your sword, courageous frightener of women, up with your sword, and let us see what it will do for you."

The archer, breathing hard, had difficulty in fixing his eyes on the ceiling, and in endeavouring to conceal his excitement he began actually to whistle, the infectious refrain, "The devil is black," coming to his lips, and disturbing rather than breaking the silence which followed Rodolph's words. The Count still did not bend his back, but stood there with his arms across his breast. The whistling turned his attention to the door. The Emperor looked round, annoyed at the interruption, whereupon the refrain suddenly ceased, and the bowman's eyes again sought the ceiling.

"I understand," said the Black Count slowly. "It is a most admirable arrangement. When I have you at my mercy your follower there is ready to turn your defeat into a victory by sending shaft through my body; assassination beautifully planned under the guise of fair fight."

"Archer," commanded Rodolph, "unbar again the door and place bow and arrows outside, then fasten bolts once more."

"My Lord," demurred Surrey, "that will arrest attention and lead to interference, which is doubtless what his Darkness desires, for the devil is not only black but treacherous."

"There is truth in that," admitted the Emperor. "Unstring your bow, then, and give it to me."

When the archer had done this with visible reluctance, for he was like a fish out of water deprived of his lithe instrument, Rodolph, passing the Count, flung the bow into the farther corner of the room, and returned to his place nearer the door.

"Now, my Lord Count," he said, "if you defeat me you can easily keep the unarmed archer away from his weapon. If he calls for help, it will be your own men who answer, for my only other follower lies sorely wounded in your service. If, on the other hand, I defeat you, the archer will have no need of his bow. Is your chivalrous spirit now content? You have, lion-like, out-faced the women, and sent them beaten from your presence; let me see you now stand up to a man, for I swear to you that if I hear another word from those lips until you fight, I will throw knightly weapon aside and assault you with the back of my hand."

The Count, stooping, raised the sword, swung it powerfully this way and that, then whirled it round his head. Unpleased with it, he strode to the wall and took down another and a heavier one. Rodolph stood in an attitude of defence, watching intently every movement of his enemy, turning his body to face him as he walked to the wall and back. The Count was a stalwart man somewhat past the prime of life, so far as active swordsmanship goes. Rodolph having quickly thrown off his doublet, standing in his shirt sleeves, with their lace ruffles at their wrists, seemed no less powerful, and youth gave him an agility which was denied the elder man. But the Count was partly encased in mail, while his rival had no such protection; a disastrous inequality should the opposing sword break through his defence. Europe came later to know Rodolph a master of weapons, as he was of statesmanship, but at this time the Count little anticipated what he was about to face, and had no reason to doubt that he himself was a match for any swordsman in the Empire.

With bull-dog bravery he launched himself upon the young man, swinging his gigantic weapon with an ease and dexterity which, considering the weight of it, was little short of marvellous. That he had determined to kill, and not to wound, was evident from the first flash of his massive blade. Rodolph, strictly on the defensive, gave way before him inch by inch. Thus the two, their falchions glittering like lightning shafts around their heads, came slowly down the long length of the great room, admirable for such a contest, except for the semi-gloom that pervaded it. There was no sound save the ring of steel on steel. The archer stood with his back against the curtain, his hands on his hips, body inclined towards the combatants, neck craned forward, every muscle tense, almost breathless with the excitement of the moment. His master's back was in alignment with him, and he saw with dismay his almost imperceptible retreat. Through the shimmering of the whirling steel the wild eyes of the Count glared like sparks of fire, filled with relentless hate and a confidence of victory. Sometimes the blades struck a shower of sparks that enveloped the fighters like a sudden glow of flame, illuminating the dark timbers of the ceiling, and drawing scintillations of light from the polished weapons along the wall. Backward and backward came Rodolph, nearer and nearer to the archer, who liked not this slow retreat, and wondered at it; thinking perhaps his master came thus toward him expecting something from him which he had not the wit to understand, but determining to intervene with his bare hands if his master's safety demanded it. Why had he foolishly been deprived of his bow? He thought of stealing to the corner and re-possessing himself of it, but feared Rodolph's displeasure, so stood rigid and helpless, looking at this contest of the giants, quailing at the inch by inch retreat. No human being could hope to keep up for long that onslaught, yet no sword stroke came through the cool guard of Rodolph. The archer began at length to see with an exultation he could scarcely keep from translating into a victorious shout, that despite the yielding foot by foot his master seemed covered by a roof of steel. Black Heinrich might as well have rained his blows on the main round towers of his own castle; in fact, he could have done so with more visible effect.

As the clashing tornado of strokes went on without cessation, the archer began to wish he could see the face of his friend and master, but he dared not move from the spot. The Count was quite manifestly beginning to feel the effects of his own fury. His brow was corded and huge beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and dripped into his eyes, interfering with his sight and causing him, now and then, to shake his head savagely, thus momentarily clearing his vision. The same motion scattered the foam gathering at his open lips, and flecked white splotches on his black beard. Rodolph's attitude had been practically unchanged since the contest began, with the ever shifting backward motion, and now as the two neared the entrance end of the long room, the swing of the Count's blade had gradually become automatic as it were, resembling measured strokes regulated by machinery, rather than designed and varied by a sentient human brain. In response to this, Rodolph's defence took on a similar fixity and regularity of movement, and to the onlooker it seemed that the fight might so continue indefinitely, until one or the other dropped from sheer exhaustion.

Suddenly Rodolph stepped swiftly back, whirled his blade round his head with a speed that made it whistle in the air like a gale through a key hole, and, in its sweep from right to left, curving upward, it caught the downward stroke of Heinrich's sword near the hilt with irresistible impact, whirled the weapon out of the Count's hands, and sent it flying to the left wall, from which, ringing against the armour, it fell clattering to the floor. Rodolph, letting the point of his weapon rest at his feet, leaned his arms on the transverse piece, which gave the sword the appearance of a cross, and stood thus regarding his antagonist, who, as if the hilt he had grasped had been the source of his motion, remained in exactly the posture he held when it was struck out of his hands. He resembled a figure turned suddenly to stone by the sweep of a magician's wand. Leaning forward, his hands outstretched, the one before the other, as if holding an invisible weapon, the spasmodic heaving of his breast was the only motion that agitated his indurate frame. For the first time Rodolph saw in his eyes a lurking flash of fear.

"Take a moment's breathing space, my Lord Count," said the Emperor. "If you exhaust yourself before attack begins how can your defence prosper?" Then turning his head he said, across his shoulder, "Bring the Count his sword, archer."

Surrey saw with jubilation that there was no sign of fatigue on the calm face turned to him, and he had difficulty in smothering a joyous whoop as he picked up the weapon and gave it to Black Heinrich, who, taking it like a man in a dream, backed cautiously to the spot where the fight had begun. It needed no second glance to see that his unexpected disarming had thoroughly demoralised him; yet he made no appeal for mercy, but stood there in sullen obstinacy awaiting the attack which would bring death to him were his antagonist bent on killing him.

"Defend yourself," cried Rodolph, advancing towards him. The other took a firmer grip of his sword hilt and stood ready. The contest was scarcely of a moment's duration. The Emperor struck down his guard several times in succession until Heinrich could have no doubt that he stood entirely at the assailant's mercy whenever he chose to take advantage of a defence that availed nothing; then whirling his weapon several times round his head while Heinrich guarded here and there in doubt where the blow was about to fall, Rodolph dealt the Count a fearful blow on the cheek with the flat of the sword and sent him head over heels with a clatter of armour and the jingling of the liberated sword dancing along the floor. The Count lay where he fell, so dazed that he held his elbow above his head as if that would protect it.

"Get up, you craven dog!" cried the Emperor, the fever of battle unloosing his hitherto suppressed rage. "Get up, you terroriser of women, you executioner of defenceless men. Stand on your feet and don't cringe there like a whipped spaniel."

But the man remained prone and made no motion to help himself. Rodolph raised his sword once or twice and seemed about to strike his fallen foe with the flat of it, but he could not bring himself to hit a helpless enemy, so flinging the blade to the wall where its companion lay, he walked down the room, took up his doublet, and put it on.

For a few moments he paced up and down the room as the Count had done, then seeing Heinrich getting somewhat unsteadily to his feet Rodolph stopped and watched the very gradual uprising. The side of Black Heinrich's face was bruised and swollen, and he rubbed it tenderly with his open hand.

"Now, my Lord Count, if you are ready, we shall conclude this discussion regarding the exercise of authority within this castle."

"Oh, take the castle," cried its owner, dolorously, "and the devil give you good of it."

"I have no wish to deprive you of castle or of anything else. I fought that our lives and liberties may not be at the disposal of a truculent coward."

"I am no coward, my Lord, as you yourself will willingly admit when you are cooler. It is little disgrace to me that I fell before such sword-play as yours, the like of which was never before seen in Germany. If you have no distrust of me, I have no rancour against you for what has happened, and I am content to acknowledge my master when I meet him. What, then, have you to propose to me?"

"I have invited no witnesses to this bout, not because I wished to take unfair advantage, as you suggested, but so that you might not be humiliated before your own men. The archer here will keep a still tongue anent what he has seen. You will bear me out in the promise of that, Surrey?"

"I will not mention it, even to the bow, my Lord."

"Very well. Then, Count Heinrich, you have nothing to fear if you play fairly. Are you honest when you say you will bear no malice?"

"I am honest," said the Count, rubbing his swollen cheek, adding with a grunt, "indeed, I have every reason for wishing you my friend."

"We will take it so. Archer, place the swords where they were against the wall, and take up your bow from the corner. Now I consent that you still exercise full authority in your castle, but we must have no more scenes like that of to-day, where we plead and protest in vain against your barbarous decisions."

"It was a military necessity, my Lord, that forced me to remove all useless persons from a castle about to be besieged. It is always done."

"I quite agree with that, and quarrel with nought but the method of the doing. I will go further and say that your message to the villagers giving them liberty to make the best terms they could for themselves, had in it traces of nobleness that left me entirely unprepared for the madness which followed. To every rule there are exceptions. Are you prepared to order the return of Hilda, the handmaiden of your niece?"

"Such will be my first order on leaving this room."

"You will perhaps promise there are to be no more murders by that cowardly assassin, Steinmetz."

"I shall punish him for what he has done. It was not my intention that any should be beheaded."

"You cannot punish him, richly as he deserves it, for you are the real culprit, giving first the order and then approving the deed when it was done. You promise then, that there shall be no more of such sanguinary commands?"

"I promise."

"The archer will hereafter be my bodyguard, and where I go, he goes. He is to be under no orders but mine. I shall choose my lodgings in this castle where it best pleases me, and none shall enter therein without my invitation. It may be well to remember, that if it come to such a pass, the archer and myself are prepared to stand out against you and your whole garrison."

"I had hoped that so brave a man as you, would have been willing to accept the word of an equally brave, if less youthful and less skilful, antagonist."

"My confidence in mankind has not undergone improvement during my brief stay at Thuron. Some of your favourites I most thoroughly distrust, Steinmetz for example. It will do no harm if you intimate to him that your severest displeasure will rest on whoever molests us. As for Conrad, when he recovers – "