Tekla

"You come from the Holy Land, Father?" began Rodolph.

"Not so, my Lord. I come from Frankfort, but there has recently arrived from Palestine a messenger, who brought brave tidings from his noble Majesty, the Emperor Rodolph of Germany."

"Indeed. And who sends you forth, or do you come of your own accord?"

"I am sent forth by the Baron von Brunfels, now in Frankfort, to relate intelligence of the Emperor in all castles and camps and strongholds, to those of noble birth, who are, I trust, loyal subjects of his Majesty."

"That are we all here, holy father," cried Tekla with enthusiasm.

The monk bowed low to the lady.

"I trust that the Baron von Brunfels is well. He is a dear friend of mine," said Rodolph.

"He is well, my Lord, but somewhat haggard with the care of state which has fallen upon him in his Majesty's absence. He is thought to be over-anxious regarding his Majesty's welfare; but I surmise that the news he has now received of him may bring more cheerfulness to his brow than has been seen there of late."

"Doubtless that will be the case," remarked Rudolph, with a deep sigh. "Do you know to what particular part of the business of state Baron von Brunfels bends his energies?"

"Particularly to the army, my Lord. He has greatly increased it, drawing men mainly from Southern Germany, and placing in command of them officers who come from the Emperor's own part of the country. It is said he is raising a company of archers, not armed with the cross-bow, but with a thin weapon held in one hand, so marvellously inaccurate that when the regiment practices near Frankfort the people round about fly to their houses, saying there is little security for life while that company is abroad, as no prophet can predict where their shafts will alight. Prayers are offered that this company be disbanded, or that Providence will confer greater blessings on their marksmanship than has hitherto been vouchsafed."

"Ah, it is a pity we cannot lend the Baron our good archer, who would do more for the efficiency of the company than much devotion. Does rumour give any reason for this increase of the army, or has Baron von Brunfels said anything regarding its purpose?"

"It is believed that a large reinforcement will presently be sent to the Emperor in Palestine, when the men are more accustomed to their duties."

"A most scandalous waste of human lives," cried the Black Count, sternly. "German men should fight their enemies at home or on the borders of German land. Of what benefit are the desert sands to us, even should we win them?"

The monk seemed shocked at this, and devoutly crossed himself, but made no reply. Tekla flashed an indignant look at her uncle, but spoke instead to Rodolph.

"My Lord," she said, "you seem more interested in the Baron than in the Emperor. I wish to hear of his Majesty's campaign in the Holy Land."

"True, Countess, I had forgotten myself, and I beg you to pardon me. The Baron is a very dear friend of mine, as I have said, but I will have speech with our visitor later concerning him. Now, Father, what of the Emperor?"

"His Majesty, the Emperor, has proven himself a warrior not only of great personal bravery, but one who is a redoubted general as well. He has displayed marvellous knowledge of the arts of war, and has routed the infidels, horse and foot, wherever he encountered them, scattering them like chaff before the wind. Threescore of their bravest leaders has he slain with his own hand, until now his very name spreads terror throughout the land. When it is known he leads the Christian host, the Saracens fly without giving battle, and cannot be lured into the field to face him."

"In God's name, then," cried the irate Count, "why doesn't he take Palestine with his own hand, and return so that he may reduce at least two of his truculent Princes to order and some respect for him? Germany is languishing for a ruler of such prowess. Told you the Archbishops of all this?"

"I did, my Lord."

"And what said they?"

"They prayed that he might be long spared to perform such deeds in the Holy Land, and are about to offer Mass in honour of his victories over the heathen."

"I can well believe it. If masses will keep him in the East he will never return to Germany. I have no patience with such old wives' tales."

The Count rose from his bench and strode from the room, saying to Steinmetz as he departed:

"See that this relator of fables is carefully deposited outside the walls in the way he came, and allow no loitering in the courtyard."

"My Lord," cried Rodolph as the Count approached the door, "I wish to have some converse with the good Father alone, and I desire to offer him refreshment before he departs from us. Have I your sanction?"

The Black Count paused near the door and looked back at the assemblage before answering. Then he said:

"Captain Steinmetz, you will obey his Lordship's orders as faithfully as if they came from me."

With this command he withdrew from the room. The ladies also rose and bent their heads to receive the blessing of the monk, thanking him for what he had told them, and expressing a wish that this should not be his last visit to the castle.

Refreshments were placed on the table, to which the monk, on being invited, devoted himself with right good will. Rodolph requested Captain Steinmetz to leave them alone together.

"Are you the only messenger Baron von Brunfels sends forth from Frankfort?" asked Rodolph.

"No, my Lord, there are many of us. One goes east, another west, and so in all directions. It is the desire of Baron von Brunfels that the people know as speedily as possible of the deeds done by their brave Emperor."

"A most loyal and laudable intention, which will be well carried out if all the messengers are as faithful and competent as you are, Father. Do you return instantly to Frankfort?"

"No, my Lord. I go now up the Moselle to Treves, and so back in a southerly direction to the capital."

"I ask you, then, to change your plans, and return forthwith to Frankfort."

"'Twould be contrary to the orders of my Lord of Brunfels. I dare not disobey him."

"Nevertheless, I request you to do so, and I give you my assurance that you will be the most welcome visitor the Baron has received this many a day, and that he himself will tell you so, blessing you for your disobedience."

"If the news you have to send is so important to him, I might venture to change my route, but as I shall have to suffer if a mistake is made, while you are safe in this castle, I must judge of the importance of your message by hearing it."

"Friendship lends importance to tidings that may seem trivial to a stranger. The Baron is my most intimate friend, therefore I ask of you to remember carefully and relate accurately what I have to send him. Tell him the silk merchant whom he accompanied to Treves is well, and is now in Castle Thuron."

"I carry not news of silk merchants, but of Emperors," cried the monk resentfully, for, despite his calling, even his humility was offended by the sudden descent from the highest to the lowest, in a country where rank was so greatly esteemed.

"Remember, Father, that the founder of our Holy Church was the son of a carpenter."

"He was the Son of God."

"Most true, but reputed to be what I say, and his Apostles were poor fishermen. Therefore it may well be that when you carry news of a silk merchant you are no less ignoble a messenger than when you carry news of an Emperor. Tell the Baron the silk merchant sends him greeting, and asks him to persevere in the augmenting of the army, which the silk merchant hopes will, from its very strength and efficiency, prove to be, not an engine of war, but an assurance of peace. To be thus effective, however, it must be undeniably stronger than any forces that may combine against it. Say that the West and the North have combined, which fact he probably already knows. The Baron is, therefore, not to interfere in any struggle that may be going on, but rather to keep a close watch upon it, and to have everything ready when a command is sent him. Have you given strict heed to my message, good Father? Repeat it to me."

"Baron von Brunfels is to be made aware that the silk merchant who accompanied him to Treves is at present in Castle Thuron. The army is to be increased and made more efficient. The West and the North have combined, which I take to mean, that Europe is as one against the Saracen, and that the Emperor's army is to be made stronger than the combination, so that when he gives the command, he will be at the head of a force superior to all others sent out, and may thus bring the war to an end without further blood being shed, through the mere terror of his name, supplemented by an army so redoubtable."

"I beg you to colour not your message with your own explanations but to attend more strictly to the exact words I give you. Say that when further news of the Emperor comes to him, he is to send you again to Castle Thuron, and he may give you instructions that will be for my ear alone. You will, therefore, be careful, if you value the good opinion of the Baron, to keep strictly apart the message for me and the general intelligence which you recite to the Archbishops. Say that the silk merchant is in safe quarters, and thinks it better to make no premature attempt to leave Thuron. The main thing at present is to get together as many troops as will outnumber two to one the forces of the West and the North. All this is not done in a day. Do you go back to the Archbishops?"

"No, my Lord. I intended to journey up the Moselle."

"Are you afoot?"

"The Baron von Brunfels, wishing me speed, gave me a horse, to which I am only now becoming accustomed. I left it at the village below in care of a soldier, it being my intention to travel to-night to the valley of the Brodenbach, and rest at the castle of Ehrenburg."

"Ehrenburg can wait for its news of the Emperor. Go, therefore, up the Brodenbach valley as was your first determination, but continue on past the castle until you come to the Frankfort road. Rest then if you must, but know that the sooner you reach Frankfort the better will you please the Baron."

Rodolph called to Steinmetz, who again blindfolded the monk, and accompanied by Emperor and captain the Palmer was set once more outside the walls, and disappeared in the night down the hill towards Alken.

CHAPTER XXXII

"FOR YOUR LOVE I WOULD DEFY FATE."

The Countess Tekla spent the greater portion of her time waiting upon her aunt, who, never having known a true friend in her life before, clung to the girl with a pathetic insistence, unhappy if Tekla was out of her sight. The natural positions of the two seemed reversed; the elder woman leaning dependently on the younger, and looking to her for protection, as a child looks to its mother. When Tekla was busy in the courtyard garden her aunt would sit on the balcony and watch her every movement with a dumb, tender affection that was most touching. The elder rarely spoke, and never smiled except when Tekla looked up to her with a smile on her own pretty lips.

Rodolph often wished the aunt were not quite so much the shadow of the niece, but there was such love between the two women that he never ventured to suggest to Tekla his hope that he might be permitted now and then to enjoy her companionship unshared. He worked with her in the garden, and often said that he expected to make horticulture his occupation when the siege was over, so expert had he become under the charming instruction of his fair teacher.

When winter intervened, and the spring came again, Rodolph jokingly suggested that they should plant grain instead of flowers, as there was still no sign that the Archbishops were becoming tired of their undertaking. The second winter passed, and a second spring found the living line around the castle still intact, thus Rodolph's former jest began to take a grimmer meaning, for provisions were indeed running low, and the two years' supply, which seemed at first almost inexhaustible, was now coming to an end, yet not a pound of wheat or a gallon of wine had succeeded in getting through the cordon drawn by the stubborn Archbishops. Rodolph had counted on a quarrel between the two commanders ere this, but there was no indication of dissension in the opposing camp. The bitter persistence of the siege he laid to the account of the Archbishop of Treves, and in this he was right. There was, however, one grain of consolation in its continuance; so long as the armies of the Archbishops were encircling Thuron, they were out of mischief elsewhere, and the rest of Germany was at peace. Rodolph could not help thinking that if it came to a fight the troops would hardly be as warlike as they had shown themselves two years before, when the siege began, for the sound of revelry came up each night from the camp, and the idle men were industriously drinking their thousand gallons of wine each day, which tended more to hilarity than discipline. Nevertheless, they held tightly to the castle, and there was no relaxing of the lines that surrounded it. On several occasions attempts were made to get through by one or other belonging to the garrison, but in each case without success. The deserters were turned back, the officers refusing even to make prisoners of them.

Meanwhile the Emperor periodically received news from the capital, and was compelled also to listen to long-winded mythical accounts of his own bravery in the East, which did much credit to the fictional power of the romancer in Frankfort who put the stories together. When at last it was reported to him that the army centred in Frankfort, and at other points within easy call of the capital, was fit to cope successfully with all opposition, the Emperor resolved to quit the castle by stealth if possible, and if that proved impracticable, to send word when next the monk came, telling Brunfels to lead the army in person up the Moselle and raise the siege of Thuron. His hope, however, was to get away from the castle and himself give the command to the Archbishops to cease their warfare.

But another matter occupied his mind, almost to the exclusion of the great affairs of state, which should perhaps have had his undivided attention, because of their paramount importance. This interest held him a willing prisoner in Thuron, and it may be some excuse for his inaction – for his reluctance in showing himself a real and not a nominal Emperor – that he was less than thirty years of age. Before he quitted Thuron, therefore, he desired to know whether the Countess Tekla regarded him as a dear friend or a dearer lover. It was his right to come at the head of his army and demand the girl, for even if she had, when sorely pressed, rebelled against being bestowed upon an equal in rank and wealth in the person of Count Bertrich, yet, whatever her personal inclinations might be, she could not deny the suit of the Emperor, were he as ugly as Calaban, as old as Methuselah, and as wicked as Beelzebub. Such a refusal would have been unheard of under the feudal law, and would certainly not have been allowed by the upholders of it. But Rodolph was in the mind to keep all prerogatives of his position for other purposes, and trust to his own qualities in pursuing the course that Cupid had marked out for him. If the girl cared nothing for him as Lord Rodolph, he would not ask her to bestow her affection upon the Emperor.

The moon was shining brightly over the Moselle valley when he determined to escape from the castle, and as he had resolved to take the archer and Conrad with him, not only as a bodyguard, but in order that there might be less demand on the almost empty larder of the castle, he had to wait for a night when the moon was obscured, or until it grew older and rose later. It would be impossible for the three of them to get away when night was as light as day; indeed experience had proved the futility of even one attempting to quit the stronghold; but the Emperor was imbued with the belief that he could succeed where others had failed. The archer had formulated a plan for their escape in conjunction with his friend Roger Kent, who was now on guard at a portion of the line in the Thaurand valley after midnight, and although Surrey had had as yet no chance of consulting his friend, he surmised there would be little difficulty in persuading him to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear up the valley for a few minutes to accommodate an old comrade.

Things were at this pass when, one afternoon, Rodolph was with the Countess Tekla in the garden while the girl's aunt sat on the balcony watching them.

"My Lady," said Rodolph, in a low voice, "I have serious complaint to make of you."

"Of me, my Lord," asked the girl, in surprise, glancing swiftly up at him.

"Yes, Countess. While we have each, even to Count Heinrich himself, taken turns in keeping watch and ward on the battlements, you have never shouldered pike and marched up and down the promenade. Yet is there reason for that. Your doing so would attract rather than repel the enemy, so perhaps we were wise in allowing you to work in the garden instead. Still, you should at least encourage those on guard, and as this promises to be a beautiful night, and as I pace the battlements until the stroke of twelve, I beg of you to come upon the parapet soon after our evening meal and bear me company for an hour or so. I make it a question of duty, if I cannot persuade you else."

"I am not one to shirk from duty," said the Countess, brightly, "so upon that basis will I assist you to repel the invaders. Besides, I wish to see the valley bathed in the moonlight, and have long desired to venture on the battlements, and would have done so before now had not my uncle forbidden it. But that was long since, and perhaps he apprehends no danger at this time."

"The ramparts are as safe as the quietest street in Frankfort, and I do assure you that the valley in the moonlight is most lovely and well worth gazing upon. I may, then, look forward to your coming?"

"Yes, unless my uncle or aunt object."

"They will not object, especially if you do not ask their permission, which I beg you not to do. Just make the venture, and I will guarantee that no one will have aught to say against your presence on the platform of the west wall."

And thus it came about that the Countess Tekla, with a fleecy white scarf thrown over her fair head, reaching down to her waist, looking as if it had been woven from the moonbeams themselves, walked on the stone terrace that night with Lord Rodolph of Hapsburg, and then was the time, had the Archbishops been looking for a favourable opportunity of attack, to charge upon the fortress, for never since the world began was watch so carelessly kept in ancient stronghold, as when these two young people guarded grim Castle Thuron.

"This reminds me of another night," said Rodolph. "The moon shone as brightly, and the river flowed on as peacefully under its mild radiance. Does your recollection join with mine?"

"Yes. It was the night we left Treves."

"Together."

Tekla looked up at him, then gently murmured a repetition of the word.

"It was an idyllic voyage," he continued, "whose remembrance lingers as does the fragrance of a precious flower. Its dangers seem to have faded away, and only the charm remains. The recollection of it is like a beautiful dream: a vision of Heaven rather than an actuality of earth."

The Countess Tekla paused in her walk, and clasping her hands over her breast, gazed up the valley at the winding ribbon of silver far below, the glamour and soft witchery of the moonlight in the lustre of her eyes.

"There can be nothing more beautiful in the world than the Moselle," she said, slowly.

"It is indeed an enchanted river, but that night it looked upon a beauty superior to its own."

"I shall not pretend ignorance of your meaning, my Lord, and so take the compliment to myself, undeserving of it though I may be. But my treatment of you then was, I fear, a sad blemish on whatever of beauty I may possess. I see you now standing on the rock by the margin of the stream, to which my petulance and suspicion unwarrantably banished you. I often think of my injustice, pain mingling with pleasure in the remembrance, which is unaccountable, for I should dwell on the incident with regret only, yet it passes my comprehension that I experience felicity in conning it over. You looked like an indignant god of the Moselle, standing there silent in the moonlight, and even although I deeply distrusted you then – you must remember I had not seen you until that moment – I felt as if I were a culprit, refusing to pay just toll as I floated on the river you guarded."

"Ah, Countess, payment deferred makes heavy demand when time for settlement ultimately comes. The river god now asks for toll, with two years' interest, compounded and compounded, due."

"Alas!" cried the Countess, arching her eyebrows, and spreading out her empty hands, accompanying the word with a little nervous laugh, "I fear I am bankrupt. Should this siege succeed, as it seems like to do – "

"What siege, my Lady?"

"The siege of Castle Thuron," she answered, looking sideways at him. "Is there another?"

"I had another in my mind at the moment. I trust that it too will be successful, or rather that it will be successful and the Archbishops' effort fail. But if Thuron falls, what then, my Lady?"

"Then am I bankrupt, for my lands will be confiscated and other grievous things may happen. With lands and castles gone, how can I pay the river god his fee, even were he generous to forego his rightful interest, twice or thrice compounded?"

"The gods, my Lady, traffic not in castles nor in lands. Were these tendered, free of fee or vassalage, your river god would value them no more than the lump of rock he stood upon, and would proclaim to all the Moselle valley his charge was still unsatisfied."

"Then he is no god, but a Frankfort usurer."

"That he is indeed, my Lady; rapacious, exacting, demanding that to which he has no rightful claim, yet still demanding. And worse than any mortgage broker, because he knows no debt has been incurred, but the reverse, for such slight service as he rendered was a pleasure to him, and he knew himself deeply the debtor in that it was accepted of him. And yet, my Lady, this confessed cozening knave implores recompense so far above his merits, that there is this to say in his behalf: his tongue, more modest than his thoughts, hesitates to formulate in words his arrogant petition. I stand here landless and castleless, but I hope a gentleman, and if any man question that I am as noble as the Archbishop himself I will dispute his contention with my sword; brushing aside all thought of the possessions that may come to you or to me, are you content, my Lady Tekla, to place your hand in my empty palm and say, 'Rodolph, I take you for my future husband'?"

He stood with both hands outstretched, and she a little distance from him, her head bowed, once venturing to dart a swift glance at him, again scrutinising the silent stones lying in the moonlight at her feet. Then suddenly she placed both her hands in his, and cried breathlessly:

"Rodolph, Rodolph, it were a foolish bargain for you, and I cannot have it so. Wait, wait a little, till I know whether I have what should be mine; whether I am to be as poor as any village maiden in Alken yonder; then ask me, Rodolph. In either case ask me then, and I will answer you."

"No, Tekla, answer me now – now."

"You are young, Rodolph. Oh, why must I be wise for two? – your way is to make, and I must not retard your career. You join a tottering house: my only relative cannot hold his own with his single sword. I feel disaster hovering over us, and yet so shallow a maid am I, that I came joyously forth to be with you on this promenade, unheeding of impending calamity. Think what you do, my Lord: the powerful Archbishops are your enemies, and there is no kin of mine to befriend you. Wait, wait, wait."

"I have already waited – for two years have I waited; I want my answer now, Tekla."

"No, no. This madness is of the moonlight. They say the moon, when it shines brightly – our talk of the river spirits has made us blind to practical things, and so I seem to be myself one of the Rhine maidens who lure men on to destruction. I will not be the Lorelei of the Moselle. Let me go, my Lord: I should not have come here to the battlements in the moonlight, for reason has fled from us. You shall not blight your noble career for one so ill-fated as I. See what I have already done. My uncle besieged this two years, and now certain of defeat. You imprisoned here when you should have been making your way in the East, or in Germany, where, with your bravery, your name would have rung throughout the land. I will not embroil you with the Archbishops, and perhaps with the Emperor himself. Go forth, Lord Rodolph, from this doomed house, and come to me, if you still wish, when I shall not retard you."