Tekla

"Lord, Roger, what a marksman you are!"

Even his lack of breath could not disguise the admiration in his tone. The tall archer on the further side leaned forward as he saw the other apparently fall, but he made no outcry. There was still one arrow left, and he held it notched on the string. The fugitive lay where he had sunk to the ground, and closed his eyes as he rested, drawing in long draughts of air while his heart beat like the drumming of a partridge's wing. It was but a short distance now to the crest of the ridge, and once over that he was safe, but he was under no delusion that he could reach shelter if the other cared to use his remaining shaft. The belief became fixed in his mind that he would be killed at the last moment, just as he reached the apex, for he knew Roger would not have the heart to slay him sooner. He rose slowly, waved his hand, and set himself resolutely to the remainder of the task. The time passed at which the last arrow should have come, but still the bowman seemed to hesitate. So exhausted was the climber that he struggled up the last few yards of the terrible ascent on his hands and knees, grovelling like some wild beast, the sweat from his forehead drenching his eyes and blinding him. With a final effort he stood on the ridge, turned round, and in a panic of rapidly accumulated fear was about to precipitate himself down the opposite slope when he was saved the trouble of the effort, for the last arrow rang against his glittering steel cap, the impact flinging him on the loose rubble, half stunned by the blow. Through his brain rang the thought, repeated and repeated:

"Roger has preferred his friend to his oath."

After a time he began to fear he was really slain, and to convince himself that life was still in him, rose slowly, standing at last on the crest of the ridge, waving his arms. Roger had remained like a statue after his last shaft had sped, his gaze fixed on the spot where his friend had fallen. When he saw that Surrey was indeed alive, he sat down and buried his face in his hands.

CHAPTER XXXVII

THE TRAITOR AND HIS PRICE

Of all those gathered in the large tent, the Archbishop of Treves was the first to realise that the bundle which had so unexpectedly dropped down upon them, as it were, from the skies, was a man. The dismal groan of agony which had marked the sweep of the strange missile along the table, followed by the distant words from the direction of the castle, caused von Isenberg to fear that his envoy had been captured by the Black Count, probably betrayed by the captain, and had thus been flung back defiantly to his master by means of the tower catapult. Whilst the others stood horrified and amazed, crossing themselves devoutly, the Archbishop gave a quick command to Bertrich.

"It is a man, inhumanly bound, and thrown thus to his death. Cut the cords that imprison him. Call hither a physician, although I fear nothing can be done for him."

Two of Bertrich's men lifted the bundle from the chair and placed it on the table. Bertrich himself, drawing a dagger, at once severed the ropes, and the body, of its own accord, relaxed and straightened out, the limbs falling into a natural position after their constraint. To all appearances the man was dead. They turned him over, his ghastly purple face appearing uppermost in view of those who craned their necks to see.

"It is Steinmetz, captain of the castle," said Bertrich, who recognised him.

"The man we bought?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Ah." The Archbishop's interjection was long drawn out. "That explains the words we heard. The mission has been bungled, and probably the envoys are prisoners."

But as he spoke the physician entered, followed by the envoys themselves, who had just arrived up the hill from their interrupted conference. The physician announced that the man was not dead, but he gave little hope of his recovery after such frightful usage. He did recover, nevertheless, and lived to build the chapel on the Bladenburg, standing exactly where the great tent stood, to mark the spot where he had fallen and had been so miraculously saved, his descent being broken by the tent itself. The Archbishop enriched the traitor, as he enriched all those who served him, whether they were successful or the reverse, and part of this ill-gotten gold Steinmetz expended in the erection of the stone chapel, thus showing gratitude to the saint who had intervened on his behalf in the hour of his direst strait.

The chief of the two envoys told von Isenberg how their meeting with the captain under the walls of the castle had been interrupted. The gold had been given to Steinmetz, they said, and this the Archbishop believed, because he had heard the wild cry of the Black Count.

The Archbishop of Treves turned to his colleague of Cologne, and said:

"This unlooked-for incident may make an entire change in my plans. I must have further information before deciding what I shall do. If Steinmetz lives, and is in his right mind, we shall, for the first time, have accurate tidings of the state of things in the interior of Thuron. It may be that the Count has supplies we know not of; if such is the case, and if you still hold it well to raise the siege, we will then leave this place together, you for Cologne, I for Treves. I trust, my Lord, that you will agree to do nothing definite until we have further consultation with each other."

"I will so agree," replied the Archbishop of Cologne.

With this the high dignitaries parted for the night, to meet next morning in the conference tent. Day had broken before the unfortunate Steinmetz was able to speak. All his former truculence had departed, and although his bones were whole, thanks to the intercepting tent, his nervous system was shattered, and he seemed but a wreck of the bold soldier he had once been. When brought before the two Archbishops, supported by a man on either side of him, there was alarmed apprehension in his roving eyes, and he started at the slightest sound.

The Archbishop of Treves questioned him gently, speaking in a soothing monotone.

"I surmise that you were thrown hither from the catapult on the north tower. Was that the case?"

The captain bowed and shuddered, making no audible reply.

"Your master, then, discovered that you intended surrendering the castle to me. How did this knowledge come to him?"

Captain Steinmetz moistened his lips and in halting words related what had occurred in the courtyard of the castle.

"The money sent by me has therefore been lost to you?" said the Archbishop, when the recital was finished.

"Yes, my Lord."

"I would like to say that I make the loss mine, and will pay to you the whole sum originally agreed upon, as I am convinced you have done your best to terminate a struggle which, so far as Count Heinrich is concerned, was hopeless from the first. I have some curiosity to know how near starvation is to those within the castle."

Captain Steinmetz hesitated.

"There are two reasons why you may be loath to answer truthfully. The first is loyalty to your late master, but circumstances have caused me to apprehend that this consideration does not press heavily upon you. The second is that if starvation is within measurable distance, you may imagine that I repent paying good gold for a place shortly to be mine for nothing. It was to remove this impression that I stated to you a moment ago that the stipulated amount will be paid in full, not deducting the coins scattered in the castle yard. Therefore, answer truly; how stands Thuron as regards famine?"

"Famine is now there, my Lord."

"You mean they are already on short rations?"

"We have been on short rations for a long time past. I mean there is not enough food to keep the garrison alive for another ten days."

"You are sure of that?"

"Absolutely sure, my Lord."

"Were you never able to get into the castle even a scant supply from outside our lines?"

"We tried it often enough, but never succeeded."

"Ah," ejaculated the Archbishop with satisfaction; then turning to his Lordship of Cologne, he added:

"That is a compliment to our united forces, my Lord. I like to see a thing well done, when it is attempted, although I confess a more active campaign would have pleased me better. This close blockade, therefore, I look upon as a triumph more personal to yourself, perhaps, than to me."

"I trust my natural humility of mind will keep me from being too proud of it," replied his Lordship of Cologne, in dubious tones.

"You think, then, that Thuron cannot hold out many days longer?" continued Treves, again addressing Steinmetz.

"If the surrounding line is held as tightly as it has been," answered the captain, "Count Heinrich must surrender or starve."

"I see you are exhausted and will question you no more. You may retire."

Captain Steinmetz, assisted by his two supporters, left the Archbishops together. Arnold von Isenberg sat silent in his place, making no comment on the cross-examination. Conrad von Hochstaden walked up and down the tent with bowed head, absorbed in thought. He was apparently waiting for the Lord of Treves to speak first, but the other sat motionless and speechless, narrowly watching the movements of his reluctant ally.

"I suppose," said von Hochstaden at last, pausing in his promenade, "that you now expect me to remain in co-operation with you until the castle falls."

"I am not sure that I expect anything. I am waiting to hear your views, as all the circumstances of the case are now before you. I admit that I am disappointed over the failure of my latest plan; still, such is the risk all must run who attempt anything. The man who never fails is the man who never tries."

"If I could be sure this fellow speaks the truth – "

"He does speak the truth."

"How can you know?"

"Because it is not to his interest to tell a lie. He has placed the period of proving his words too near at hand to make dealing with fiction entirely safe. A prophet who sets a day for the fulfilment of his prediction must be either a true seer or a fool. Steinmetz is no fool."

"You think, perhaps, that I should be a fool to stand by you for two years and withdraw when the task is within ten days of completion."

The Archbishop of Treves spread out his hands deprecatingly, and slightly shrugged his shoulders.

"I should hesitate before I ventured to express an opinion in terms so strong as those you have suggested: I wait rather to hear your own judgment, hoping the verdict will be one with which I can cordially and conscientiously agree."

"Very well. It would be an act of folly to withdraw now that we are apparently within sight of the goal. I will, therefore, double the time held to be required, and will remain your faithful ally for twenty days longer. If, at the end of that period, the castle is not in your possession, you will place no obstacle in the way of my retirement to Cologne. If that does not meet with your approval, then make a proposal to me."

"I agree, and would have agreed had you placed the limit at ten days, so confident am I that the garrison of Thuron are at this moment in the direst straits. If unforeseen circumstances make it necessary for you to retire at the end of twenty days, I also will retire at the same time, and thus we will share defeat as we would have shared victory. Meanwhile, I suggest that until the twenty days have expired, it is necessary for both you and me to remain in this camp, for the castle may fall at any moment, and I desire that we march through its gates together, and raise the flag of Cologne on one tower and the flag of Treves on the other. I trust there is nothing impending that will make your return to Cologne, during this time, imperative?"

"No. It is not necessary for me to be in Cologne until the middle of August. I have set the fourteenth of that month as the day on which the corner stone of my cathedral is to be laid, and I wish to have my hands free of blood and myself free from feud before then, so that God's blessing may rest on the edifice."

"Such a condition is most exemplary and most necessary," said the Archbishop of Treves, with some suspicion of a sneer in his tone. "I make no doubt but your cathedral will be a beautiful building, and thrice blessed in the admitted sanctity of its founder. Well; we shall have ample time for the cleansing of hands before the fourteenth, not that there has been much blood to smear them for the past two years, but if your mind is ill at ease, I shall be happy, in the interests of good architecture, to be your confessor, and send you to the laying of the foundation stone fully absolved. It is then agreed that for twenty days we remain partners."

Thus the two Archbishops concluded their bargain, thinking perhaps of many events that might intervene between their hope and its realisation, but giving no thought to the real thunder-cloud that had been gathering so long to the south of them, and having no knowledge of a young man at that moment making his way through the forest to the east of the Rhine, his face set direct for Frankfort.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

THE INCOGNITO FALLS

John Surrey, the archer, stumbled wearily down the crumbling shale of the steep hill, guided by the low signal cry that sounded at intervals from the edge of the Moselle. He found, on arriving breathless at the river, that Conrad had secured a boat, which, pole in hand, he held against the bank while Rodolph stood on shore impatiently awaiting the coming of his henchman. They were too near Alken for any conversation to take place, and the moment Surrey arrived, the Emperor stepped into the skiff, motioning the archer to follow. Conrad pushed the boat away from the bank, and standing upright, poled it down stream, keeping close to the southern shore, so as to be in the deep shadow of the hills. There was, however, little need for extreme caution. The whole attention of the besieging forces was concentrated in keeping intact the line around the castle, and no thought was given to what was passing outside that circle. The contest had been going on so long that the country had come to look upon it as the natural condition of the locality, and ordinary traffic up and down the river went to and fro as usual. Three men were therefore unlikely to attract much attention merely because they were floating along the stream to that great thoroughfare of commerce, the lordly Rhine. The distance to Coblentz being slightly more than four leagues, and the current tolerably swift, the Emperor expected to reach the larger river before the day dawned, short as the nights were, and in this he was not disappointed. The expedition passed unchallenged into the Rhine, and continued across that river, coming to land opposite Coblentz. Here the archer, who had slept soundly during the voyage, set out to forage for food, while Conrad, his pouch well filled with the gold of the Archbishop of Treves, a quantity of the coin having been taken for use while they were within his Lordship's sphere of influence, began his search for three riding horses that would carry the party to Frankfort. The purchase was speedily effected, for there was a depot on each side of the river for the sale or hiring of steeds, merchants from Treves going by one bank to Mayence or along the other to Frankfort being the chief customers of these horse dealers. Conrad was instructed to proclaim himself an emissary of the Archbishop of Treves, should he be questioned, and the Emperor rightly anticipated that no one would undertake to molest the minion of so powerful and haughty a Prince. But Rodolph, not being certain what state of feeling existed between the Archbishop of Mayence and his proud brother of Treves, now in active alliance with Cologne, was not so sure that a proclamation of dependence on Treves would serve to protect them further up the river, and so resolved to avoid the Rhine route, striking instead across the country direct to Frankfort, taking as his path the hypotenuse of that huge triangle, at the three extreme points of which stood Frankfort, Mayence, and Coblentz. The distance as the crow flies is scarcely more than seventeen leagues, but Rodolph knew the way would be rough, up hill and down, with numerous streams to ford, and finally the Taurus range to cross, but the course seemed safer than risking detention by the Archbishop of Mayence, or by some stupid, obstinate robber Baron along the banks of the Rhine.

The early dawn was just breaking as, having finished the hastily-prepared meal – the first satisfactory and full repast the archer or Rodolph had enjoyed for some days – the three set off up the Rhine until the Lahn was crossed; then they struck into the pathless forest. At various points they engaged woodmen or charcoal burners to guide them, dismissing a man when he came to the limit of his local knowledge, and securing another when another was to be found. The legend of that journey remained in the district for many a long day, for each guide, instead of being cast aside with a blow for his trouble, as was the custom of the country, was given a bright gold coin with the effigy of the Archbishop upon it, each piece representing untold wealth to the happy possessor. It came ultimately to be rumoured that it was the Emperor himself who made this golden pilgrimage, and how such rumour had its origin no one can rightly surmise; but, although the tale is devoutly believed by the peasantry, careful historians have proved conclusively that it is a myth, for they show that the Emperor was then returning triumphantly from the Holy Land, and consequently must have approached Frankfort from the east, and not from the north.

When the sun was at its highest altitude the party halted and rested for two hours or more in a rude hamlet on the borders of a stream in the depths of the forest; there they had their second meal, afterwards proceeding on their journey. Having secured a guide in the village, Rodolph was anxious to reach the foot of the Taurus mountains before night, for there he was confident they would come on the Roman road that led over the range directly into Frankfort. This they accomplished, and once they were on the road all fear of losing their way left them. It had now become merely a question of endurance so far as the horses were concerned. Conrad made no complaint, doing all that was required of him without grumbling, apparently untouched by fatigue; but the two years of inactivity in the castle had left the stout archer, never a good horseman, entirely unprepared for such exercise. He besought his master to rest for the night at the foot of the Taurus and continue their expedition in the morning.

"I know something of cities, my Lord," he said, "and have been present at the taking of many. We will not be allowed within the gates to-night even if we reach the walls. Therefore will it be useless for us to proceed further, for our horses are well nigh exhausted as it is, and no wonder, for the poor brutes have come through more to-day than any animal should be called upon to endure in such space of time. Besides, as I have said, the gates will be closed and you could not get in were you the Archbishop himself."

"We shall be the readier to enter in the morning," answered Rodolph sleepily, drowsing by the fire on which their supper was being prepared.

"But, my Lord, outside the walls there are usually gathered rough characters, – Egyptians and cut throats, who, for the sake of one of our gold pieces, will murder us all without compunction and with but small chance of being punished for it, not that punishment would matter to us who lay there robbed with our throats sundered. Here we may sleep safe, but a man's life is not worth a broken arrow outside the walls of Frankfort in the night time with the gates closed."

"I know Frankfort well, having being a resident of the city, so it is unlikely you can give me information regarding it. You must not forget that while we eat freely here our comrades in Thuron starve; therefore, we reach Frankfort sometime between now and dawn, the sooner to dispatch sustenance and help to our friends, if it prove to be in our power to send them aid."

"Oh, I am as anxious as any can be to send help to Thuron, and food as well, but nothing can be done in a sleeping city, and, if we are ourselves killed in our hurry, that will be small comfort to the Black Count and those with him. I am for making haste with caution."

"If you are tired, my good archer, have the courage to admit it, and then rest you here, to follow when your convenience suits."

"I am not tired, at least not more so than a man may without shame confess, who has come such a heathenish journey; but I see not the use of such eagerness to reach a city that will be sound asleep when we get there."

"Then we will awaken it, and so we may consider the discussion ended."

With many groans the archer got him on his patient horse again, and during the journey tried various devices to make travelling easier for himself. He sat sideways on the animal, with his feet dangling now on the right and now on the left. Then he tried to lie down but nearly fell off; then he sat with face to the rear, but this brought no amelioration. At last he rolled himself to the ground and swore he would walk the rest of the distance; indeed it was easy to keep pace with the jaded beasts who were now mounting the steep acclivity that leads to the heights of the range. At the summit the moon shone full on the wide plain below, and the Emperor almost persuaded himself that he saw the ancient city of Frankfort. They passed, with some caution, the stronghold of Konigstein, frowning down upon them in the moonlight, looking like a castle of white marble, and the Emperor breathed a sigh of relief when it was well in the rear with the trio still unmolested.

When at length the north gate of the capital was reached they found it in truth barred against them, as the archer had so confidently predicted. Rodolph rapped thrice upon it with the hilt of his sword.

"You might as well try to hammer down the wall," said a figure that rose out of the shadow. "They will not open. We have tried it."

"It is folly to open to any chance comer in a fortified town," grumbled the archer. "I knew well how it would be."

But as he spoke three raps were heard on the inner side of the gate, which Rodolph immediately answered with two, whereupon a small door at the side was opened slightly, and a voice asked:

"Who knocks?"

"The silk merchant," answered Rodolph.

"Travelling from where?"

"Travelling from Treves."

At once the small gate was closed and the bolts drawn from the larger leaves, which were then slowly swung apart.

A crowd had rapidly gathered at the sound of the blows on the gate, and now tried to press through, but two soldiers with pikes beat them back. When Conrad and the archer had followed their master, the gates were closed and barred again. The three horsemen found themselves under a dark echoing archway of stone, from the black mouth of which was given a view of a narrow moonlit street.

"You have a guide here for me?" said Rodolph.

"Yes, my Lord. He is to take you to the Golden Flagon."

"That is right. Let him lead on at once, for we have had a long journey."

A soldier stepped out into the light and the three followed him. He led them through the narrow winding streets of the city, flanked by tall houses whose overhanging gables caused the thoroughfares to seem more cramped than they actually were. At last he came to a street so much wider than the others that it might have been termed a square, and on one side of it stood the hostelry, from whose front the golden flagon swung in token of the good wine to be had within. Here all was silent, and the three horsemen sat where they were, while the soldier hammered with the end of his pike against a door. When it was opened there was a whispered colloquy, and then some sleepy stable boys were roused to take charge of the horses of the belated guests, while the landlord himself invited them to enter.

Rodolph swung himself from his exhausted steed, the others following his example; the archer, who had ridden from the summit of the Taurus, descending with painful slowness and extreme care.

"Take supper here," said Rodolph to his men, "and then to rest. I am sure you need it. Do not leave this house until I come or send for you. And now good-night."

"Are you not coming in also, my Lord?" asked Conrad, in surprise.