DISSENSION IN THE IRONWORKERS’ GUILD
Up to the time of his midnight awakening,
Prince Roland had led a care-free, uneventful life.
Although he received the general education supposed
to be suitable for a youth of his station, he interested
himself keenly in only two studies, but as one of these
challenged the other, as it were, the result was entirely
to the good. He was a very quiet boy, much under
the influence of his mother, seeing little or nothing
of his easy-going, inebriated father. It was his
mother who turned her son’s attention towards
the literature of his country, and he became an omnivorous
reader of the old monkish manuscripts with which the
Palace was well supplied. Especially had his mind
been attracted by the stories and legends of the Rhine.
The mixture of history, fiction, and superstition
which he found in these vellum pages, so daintily
limned, and so artistically embellished with initial
letters in gold and crimson and blue, fascinated him,
and filled him with that desire to see those grim
strongholds on the mountain-sides by the river, which
later on resulted in his journey from Ehrenfels to
Bonn, when his ingenuity, and the cupidity of his
custodian, freed him from the very slight thraldom
in which he was held by the Archbishop of Mayence.
If his attention had been entirely
absorbed by the reading of these tomes, he might have
become a mere dreamy bookworm, his intellect saturated
with the sentimental and romantic mysticism permeating
Germany even unto this day, and, as he cared nothing
for the sports of boyhood, body might have suffered
as brain developed.
But, luckily, he had been placed under
the instruction of Rinaldo, the greatest master of
the sword that the world had up to that period produced.
Rinaldo was an Italian from Milan, whom gold tempted
across the Alps for the purpose of instructing the
Emperor’s son in Frankfort. He was a man
of grace and politeness, and young Roland took to him
from the first, exhibiting such aptitude in the art
of fencing that the Italian was not only proud of
one who did such credit to his tuition, but came to
love the youth as if he were his own son.
For the sword-making of Germany the
Italian expressed the utmost contempt. The coarse
weapons produced by the ironworkers of Frankfort needed
strength rather than skill in their manipulation.
Between the Italian method and the German was all
the contrast that exists between the catching of salmon
with a delicate line and a gossamer fly, or clubbing
the fish to death as did the boatmen at that fishery
called the Waag down the Rhine by St. Goar.
Roland listened intently and without
defense to the diatribe against his country’s
weapons and the clumsy method of using them, but although
he said nothing, he formed opinions of his own, believing
there was some merit in strength which the Italian
ignored; so, studying the subject, he himself invented
a sword which, while lacking the stoutness of the
German weapon, retained some of its stability, and
was almost as easily handled as the Italian rapier,
without the disadvantage of its extreme frailty.
Thus it came about that young Roland
stole away from the Palace and made the acquaintance
of the sword makers. The practice of fencing exercises
every muscle in the body, and Roland’s constant
bouts with Rinaldo did more than make him a master
of the weapon, with equal facility in his right arm
or his left; it produced an athlete of the first quality;
agile and strong, developing his physical powers universally,
and not in any one direction.
Meanwhile Roland remained deplorably
ignorant regarding affairs of State, this being a
subject of which his mother knew nothing. The
Emperor, who should have been his son’s natural
teacher, gave his whole attention to the wine-flagon,
letting affairs drift towards disaster, allowing the
power that deserted his trembling fingers to be grasped
by stronger but unauthorized hands. Roland’s
surreptitious excursions into the city to confer with
the sword makers taught him little of politics, for
his conversations with these mechanics were devoted
entirely to metal-working. He was hustled now
and again by the turbulent mob, in going to and fro,
but he did not know why it clamored, and, indeed, took
little interest in the matter, conscious only that
he came more and more to hate the city and loathe
its inhabitants. When he could have his own way,
he said to himself, he would retire to some country
castle which his father owned, and there devote himself
to such employment as fell in with his wishes.
But he was to receive a sharp lesson
that no man, however highly placed, is independent
of his fellows. He was unaware of the commotion
that arose round his own name, and of the grim hanging
of the leaders who chose him as their supreme head.
When, bewildered and sleepy, he was aroused at midnight,
and saw three armed men standing by his bedside, he
received a shock that did more to awaken him than the
grip of alien hands on his shoulders. During
that night ride in the boat he said nothing but thought
much. He had heard his mother plead for him without
for a moment delaying his departure. She, evidently,
was powerless. There was then in the land a force
superior to that of the Throne. Something that
had been said quieted his mother’s fears, for
at last she allowed him to go without further protest,
but weeping a little, and embracing him much.
There was no roughness or rudeness on the part of
those who conveyed him down the river Main, and finally
along the Rhine to Ehrenfels, but rather the utmost
courtesy and deference, yet Roland remained silent
throughout the long journey, agitated by this new,
invisible, irresistible sovereignty animated with the
will and power to do what it liked with him.
At the Castle of Ehrenfels he found
awaiting him no rigorous imprisonment. He was
treated as a welcome guest of an invisible host.
It was his conversations with the garrulous custodian,
who was a shrewd observer of the passing show, that
gradually awakened the young Prince to some familiarity
with the affairs of the country. He learned now
in what a deplorable state the capital stood, through
the ever-increasing exactions of the robber Barons
along the Rhine. He asked his instructor why
the merchants did not send their goods by some other
route, which was a very natural query, but was told
there existed no other route. A great forest
extended for the most part between Frankfort and Cologne,
and through the wilderness were no roads, for even
those constructed by the Romans had been allowed to
fall into decay; overgrown with trees, Nature thus
destroying the neglected handiwork of man; the forest
reclaiming its own.
“Indeed,” continued the
custodian, “for the last ten years things have
been going to the devil, for the lack of a strong hand
in the capital. A strong hand is needed by nobles
and outlaws alike. We want a new Frederick Barbarossa;
the hangman’s rope and the torch judiciously
applied might be the saving of the country.”
Ehrenfels, belonging to the Archbishop,
was not a nest of piracy, and so its guardian could
talk in this manner if he chose, but had he uttered
these sentiments farther down the Rhine, he would himself
have experienced the utility of the hangman’s
rope. Roland, knowing by this time who had taken
him into custody, said:
“Why do not the three Archbishops
put a stop to it? They possess the power.”
The old jailer shrugged his shoulders.
“My chief, the great prelate
of Mayence, would do it speedily enough if he stood
alone, but the Archbishops of Treves have ever been
robbers themselves, and Cologne is little better,
therefore they neutralize one another. No two
of them will allow the other to act, fearing he may
gain in power, and thus upset the balance of responsibility,
which I assure your Highness is very nicely adjusted.
Each of the three claim allegiance from this Baron
or the other, and although the Archbishops themselves
may not lay toll directly on the Rhine, their ardent
partisans do, which produces a deadlock.”
Thus Roland received an education
not to be had in palaces, and, saying little beyond
asking an occasional question, he thought much, and
came to certain conclusions. He arrived at an
ambition to open the lordly Rhine and spent his time
gathering knowledge and forming plans.
Twelve hours after receiving the five
hundred thalers from the merchant, he again presented
himself at the now familiar door in the Fahrgasse.
In the room on the first floor he found with Herr
Goebel a thick-set, heavily-bearded, weather-beaten
man, who stood bonnet in hand while the merchant gave
him final instructions.
“Good-morning, Sir Roland,”
cried Herr Goebel cheerfully. He exhibited no
resentment for his treatment of the night before, and
apparently daylight brought with it renewed confidence
that the young man might succeed in his mission.
There was now no hesitation in the merchant’s
manner; alert and decided, all mistrust seemed to have
vanished. “This is Captain Blumenfels,
whom I put in charge of the barge, and who has gathered
together a crew on which he can depend although, of
course, you must not expect them to fight.”
“No,” said Roland, “I
shall attend to that portion of the enterprise.”
“Now, Captain Blumenfels,”
continued Herr Goebel, “this young man is commander.
You are to obey him in every particular, just as you
would obey me.”
The captain bowed without speaking.
“I shall not detain you any
longer, captain, as you will be anxious to see the
bales disposed of to your liking on the barge.”
The captain thereupon took himself
off, and Roland came to the conclusion that he liked
this rough-and-ready mariner with so little to say
for himself; a silent man of action, evidently.
Herr Goebel turned his attention to Roland.
“I have ordered bales of cloth
to the value of a trifle more than four thousand thalers
to be placed in the barge,” he said. “The
bales are numbered, and I have given the captain an
inventory showing the price of each. I suppose
you despise our vulgar traffic, and, indeed, I had
no thought of asking so highly placed a person as
yourself to sell my goods, therefore Blumenfels will
superintend the marketing when you reach Cologne that
is, if you ever get so far.”
“Your pardon, Herr Goebel, but
I have my own plans regarding the disposal of your
goods. I intend to be quit of them long before
I see Cologne. Indeed, should I prosper, I hope
your boat will set its nose southward for the return
journey some distance this side of Coblentz.”
The merchant gazed up at him in astonishment.
“Your design is impossible.
There is no sale for cloth nearer than Coblentz.
Your remarks prove you unacquainted with the river.”
“I have walked every foot of
both sides of the river between Ehrenfels and Bonn.
There are many wealthy castles on this side of Coblentz.”
“True, my good sir, true; but
how became they wealthy? Simply by robbing the
merchants. Are you not aware that each of these
castles is inhabited by a titled brigand? You
surely do not expect to sell my cloth to the Barons?”
“Why not? Remember how
long it is since a cloth-barge went down the Rhine.
Think for a moment of the arduous life which these
Barons lead, hunting the boar, the bear, and the deer,
tearing recklessly through thicket and over forest-covered
ground. Why, our noble friends must be in rags
by this time, or clad in the skins of the beasts they
kill! They will be delighted to see and handle
a piece of well-woven cloth once more.”
For a full minute the merchant gaped
aghast at this senseless talk so seriously put forward;
then a smile came to his lips.
“Prince Roland, I begin to understand
you. Your words are on a par with the practical
joke you played upon me so successfully last night.
Of course, you know as well as I that the Barons will
buy nothing. They will take such goods as they
want if you but give them opportunity. What you
say is merely your way of intimating it is none of
my affair how the goods are disposed of, so long as
you hand over to me four thousand thalers.”
“Four thousand five hundred, if you please.”
“I shall be quite content with
the four thousand, regarding the extra five hundred
as paid for services rendered. Now, can I do anything
further to aid you?”
“Yes. I wish you to send
a man on horseback to Lorch, there to await the barge.
Choose a man as silent as your captain; one whom you
trust implicitly, for I hope to send back with him
four thousand five hundred thalers, and also
some additional gold, which I beg of you to keep safely
for me until I return.”
“Prince Roland, there can be no gold for me
at Lorch.”
“Dispatch a trustworthy man
in case I receive the money. You will be anxious
to know how we prosper, and I can at least forward
a budget of news.”
“But should there be gold, he
cannot return safely with it to Frankfort.”
“Oh, yes, if he keeps to the
eastern bank of the Rhine. There is no castle
between Lorch and Frankfort except Ehrenfels, and that,
being the property of the Archbishop, may be passed
safely.”
“Very well. The man shall
await you at Lorch. Inquire for Herr Kruger at
Mergler’s Inn.”
That night, in the Kaiser cellar,
another excellent supper was spread before the members
of the metal-workers’ league. It was quite
as hilarious as the banquet of the night before; perhaps
more so, because now, for the first time in months,
the athletic young men were well fed, with money in
their pouches. Each was clad in a new suit of
clothes. Nothing like uniformity in costume had
been attempted, there being but one day in which to
replenish the wardrobes, which involved the acquiring
of garments already made. However no trouble was
experienced about this, for each branch of the metal-workers
had its own recognized outfit, which was kept on hand
in all sizes by various dealers catering to the wants
of artisans, from apprentices to masters of their trade.
The costumes were admirably adapted to the use for
which they were intended. There was nothing superfluous
in their make-up, and, being loosely cut, they allowed
ample play to stalwart limbs. For dealing with
metal the wearers required a cloth tightly woven, of
a texture as nearly as possible resembling leather,
and better accouterment for a rough-and-tumble, freebooter’s
excursion could not have been found, short of coats
of mail, or, failing that, of leather itself.
Roland appeared in the trousers and
doublet of a sword maker, and his comrades cheered
loudly when he threw off his cloak and displayed for
the first time that he was actually one of themselves.
Hitherto something in the fashioning of his wearing
apparel had in a manner differentiated him from the
rest of the company, but now nothing in his dress
indicated that he was leader of the coterie, and this
pleased the independent metal-workers.
The previous night, after the landlord’s
bill was generously liquidated, each man had received
upwards of thirty thalers. Roland then related
to them his adventure with the merchant, and the result
of his sword-play in the vicinity of Herr Goebel’s
throat. Two accomplishments he possessed endeared
Roland to his comrades: first, the ability to
sing a good song; and second, his talent for telling
an interesting story, whether it was a personal adventure,
a legend of the Rhine, or some tale of the gnomes
which, as every one knows, haunt the gloomy forests
in the mountain regions. His account of the evening
spent with Herr Goebel aroused much laughter and applause,
which greatly augmented when the material advantages
of the interview were distributed among the guild.
This evening he purposed making a
still more important disclosure; thus when the meal
was finished, and the landlord, after replenishing
the flagons, had retired, the new sword maker rose
in his place at the head of the table.
“I crave your strict attention
for a few minutes. Although I refused to confide
my plans to Herr Goebel, I consider it my duty to inform
you minutely of what is before us, and if I speak
with some solemnity, it is because I realize we may
never again meet around this table. We depart
from Frankfort to-morrow upon a hazardous expedition,
and some of us may not return.”
“Oh, I say, Roland,” protested
Conrad Kurzbold, “don’t mar a jovial evening
with a note of tragedy. It’s bad art, you
know.”
Kurzbold was one of the three actual
sword makers, and had been president of the guild
until he gave place to Roland. He was the oldest
of the company; an ambitious man, a glib talker, with
great influence among his fellows, and a natural leader
of them. What he said generally represented the
opinion of the gathering.
“For once, Kurzbold, I must
ask you to excuse me,” persisted Roland.
“It is necessary that on this, the last, opportunity
I should place before you exactly what I intend to
do. I am very anxious not to minimize the danger.
I wish no man to follow me blindfold, thus I speak
early in the evening, that you may not be influenced
by the enthusiasm of wine in coming to a decision.
I desire each man here to estimate the risk, and choose,
before we separate to-night, whether or not he will
accompany the expedition.
“Here is the compact made with
Herr Goebel: I promised that, with the help of
my comrades, I would endeavor to open the Rhine to
mercantile traffic. On the strength of such promise
he gave me the money.”
At this announcement rose a wild round
of applause, and with the thunder of flagons on the
table, and the shouting of each member, no single
voice could make itself heard above the tumult.
These lads had no conception of the perils they were
to face, and Roland alone remained imperturbable,
becoming more and more serious as the uproar went on.
When at last quiet was restored, he continued, with
a gravity in striking contrast to the hilarity of
his audience:
“Herr Goebel is filling his
largest barge with bales of cloth, and he has engaged
an efficient crew, and a capable captain who will assume
charge of the navigation. The barge will proceed
to-morrow night down the Main, leaving Frankfort as
unostentatiously as possible, while we march across
the country to Assmannshausen, and there join this
craft. It is essential that no hint of our intention
shall spread abroad in gossipy Frankfort, therefore,
depending on Captain Blumenfels to get his boat clear
of the city without observation, and before the moon
rises, I ask you to leave to-morrow separately by
different gates, meeting me at Hochst, something more
than two leagues down the river. I dare say you
all know the Elector’s palace, whose beautiful
tower is a landmark for the country round.”
“I protest against such a rendezvous,”
objected Kurzbold. “Make it the tavern
of the Nassauer Hof, Roland. We shall all be thirsty
after a walk of two leagues.”
“Not at that time in the morning,
I hope,” said Roland, “for I shall await
you in the shadow of the tower at nine o’clock.
Let every man drink his fill to-night, for I intend
to lead a sober company from Hochst to-morrow.”
“Oh, you’re optimistic,
Roland,” cried John Gensbein. “Give
us till twelve o’clock to cool our heads.”
“Drink all you wish this evening,”
repeated Roland, “but to-morrow we begin our
work, with a long day’s march ahead of us, so
nine is none too early for a start from Hochst.”
“Sufficient to the day is the
wine thereof,” said Conrad Kurzbold, rising
to his feet. “Wine, blessed liquor as it
is, possesses nevertheless one defect, which blot
on its escutcheon is that it cannot carry over till
next day, except in so far as a headache is concerned,
and a certain dryness of the mouth. It is futile
to bid us lay in a supply to-night that will be of
any use to-morrow morning. For my part, I give
you warning, Roland, that I shall make directly for
the Nassauer Hof, or for the Schone Aussicht,
where they keep most excellent vintages.”
To this declaration Roland made no
reply, but continued his explanatory remarks.
“We shall join the barge, as
I have said, above Assmannshausen, probably at night,
and then cross directly over the river. The first
castle with which I intend to deal is that celebrated
robber’s roost, Rheinstein, standing two hundred
and sixty feet above the water. Disembarking about
a league up the river from Rheinstein, before daybreak
we will all lie concealed in the forest within sight
of the Castle gates. When the sun is well risen,
Captain Blumenfels will navigate his boat down the
river, and as it approaches Rheinstein we shall probably
enjoy the privilege of seeing the gates open wide,
as the company from the Castle descend precipitously
to the water. While they rifle the barge we shall
rifle the Castle, overpowering whoever we may find
there, and taking in return for the cloth they steal
such gold or silver as the treasury affords. We
will then imprison all within the Castle, so that a
premature alarm may not be given. If we are hurried,
we may lock them in cellars, or place them in dungeons,
then leave the Castle with our booty, but I do not
purpose descending to the river until we have traversed
a league or more of the mountain forest, where we
may remain concealed until the barge appears, and
so take ship again.
“The next castle is Falkenberg,
the third Sonneck, both on the same side of the river
as Rheinstein, and within a short distance from the
stronghold, but the plan with each being the same as
that already outlined, it is not necessary for me
to repeat it.”
“An excellent arrangement!”
cried several; but John Gensbein spoke up in criticism.
“Is there to be no fighting?”
he asked. “I expected you to say that after
we had secured the gold we would fall on the robbers
to the rear, and smite them hip and thigh.”
“There is likely to be all the
fighting you can wish for,” replied Roland,
“for at some point our scheme may go awry.
It is not my intention to attack, but I expect you
to fight like heroes in our own defense.”
“I agree with Herr Roland,”
put in Conrad Kurzbold, rising to his feet. “If
we purpose to win our way down to Cologne, it is unnecessary
to search for trouble, because we shall find enough
of it awaiting us at one point or another. But
Roland stopped his account at what seems to me the
most interesting juncture. What is the destination
of the gold we loot from the castles?”
“The first call upon our accumulation
will be the payment of four thousand five hundred
thalers to Herr Goebel.”
“Oh, damn the merchant!”
cried Conrad. “We are risking our lives,
and I don’t see why he should reach out his
claws. He will profit enough through our exertions
if we open the Rhine.”
“True; but that was the bargain
I made with him. We risk our lives, as you say,
but he risks his goods, besides providing barge, captain,
and crew. He also furnished us with the five
hundred thalers now in our pockets. We must
deal honestly with the man who has supported us in
the beginning.”
“Oh, very well,” growled
Kurzbold, “have it your own way; but in my opinion
the merchants should combine and raise a fund with
which to reward us for our exertions if we succeed.
Still, I shall not press my contention in the face
of an overwhelming sentiment against me. However,
I should like to speak to our leader on one matter
which it seemed ungracious to mention last night.
The merchant offered him a thousand thalers in
gold, and he, with a generosity which I must point
out to him was exercised at our expense, returned
half that money to Herr Goebel. I confess that
all I received has been spent; my hand is lonesome
when it enters my pouch. I should be glad of
that portion which might have been mine (and when
I speak for myself, I speak for all) were it not for
the misplaced prodigality of our leader who, possessing
the money, was so thoughtless of our fellowship that
he actually handed over five hundred thalers
to a man who had not the slightest claim upon it.”
“Herr Kurzbold,” said
Roland, with some severity, “many penniless nights
passed over our heads in this room. If you know
so much better than I how to procure money, why did
you not do so? I should not venture to criticise
a man who, without any effort on my part, placed thirty
thalers at my disposal.”
There was a great clamor at this,
every one except Kurzbold, who stood stubbornly in
his place, and Gensbein, who sat next to him, becoming
vociferous in defense of their leader.
“It is uncomrade-like,”
cried Ebearhard above the din, “to spend the
money and then growl.”
“I speak in the interests of
us all,” shouted Kurzbold. “In the
interests of our leader, no less than ourselves,”
but the others howled him down.
Roland, holding up his right hand,
seemed to request silence and obtained it.
“I am rather glad,” he
said, “that this discussion has arisen, because
there is still time to amend our programme. Herr
Goebel’s barge will not be loaded until to-morrow
night, so the order may even yet be countermanded.
The five hundred thalers which belonged to me
I say nothing about, but the five hundred advanced
by Herr Goebel must be returned to him unless we are
in perfect unanimity.”
At this suggestion Kurzbold sat down
with some suddenness.
“I told you, when I left this
room, promising to find the money within a week, that
one condition was the backing of my fellows. You
empowered me to pledge the efforts of our club as
though it contained but one man. If that promise
is not to be kept in spirit as well as in letter, I
shall retire from the position I now hold, and you
may elect in my stead Conrad Kurzbold, John Gensbein,
or any one else that pleases you. But first I
must be in a position to give back intact Herr Goebel’s
money; then, as I have divulged to you my plans, Conrad
Kurzbold may approach him, and make better terms than
I was able to arrange.”
There were cries of “Nonsense!
Nonsense!” “Don’t take a little
opposition in that spirit, Roland.” “We
are all free-speaking comrades, you know.”
“You are our leader, and must remain so.”
Kurzbold rose to his feet for the third time.
“Literally and figuratively,
my friend Roland has me on the hip, for my hip-pocket
contains no money, and it is impossible for me to refund.
I imagine, if the truth were told, we are all more
or less in the same condition, for we have had equipment
to buy, and what-not.”
“Also Hochheimer,” said
one, at which there was a laugh, as Kurzbold was noted
for his love of good wine. Up to this point Roland
had carried the assemblage with him, but now he made
an injudicious remark that instantly changed the spirit
of the room.
“I am astonished,” he
said, “that any objection should be made to the
fair treatment of Herr Goebel, for you are all of the
merchant class, and should therefore hold by one of
your own order.”
He could proceed no farther.
Standing there, pale and determined, he was simply
stormed down. His ignorance of affairs, of which
on several occasions the merchant himself had complained,
led him quite unconsciously to touch the pride of
his hearers. It was John Gensbein who angrily
gave expression to the sentiment of the meeting.
“To what class do you
belong, I should like to know? Do you claim affinity
with the merchant class? If you do, you are no
leader of ours. I inform you, sir, that we are
skilled artisans, with the craft to turn out creditable
work, while the merchants are merely the vendors of
our products. Which, therefore, takes the higher
place in a community, and which deserves it better:
he who with artistic instinct unites the efforts of
brain and hand to produce wares that are at once beautiful
and useful, or he who merely chaffers over his counter
to get as much lucre as he can for the creations that
come from our benches?”
To Roland’s aristocratic mind,
every man who lacked noble blood in his veins stood
on the same level, and it astonished him that any mere
plebeian should claim precedence over another.
He himself felt immeasurably superior to those present,
sensible of a fathomless gulf between him and them,
which he, in his condescension, might cross as suited
his whim, but over which none might follow him back
again; and this, he was well aware, they would be
the first to admit did they but know his actual rank.
For a moment he was tempted to acknowledge
his identity, and crush them by throwing the crown
at their heads, but some hitherto undiscovered stubbornness
in his nature asserted itself, arousing a determination
to stand or fall by whatever strength of character
he might possess.
“I withdraw that remark,”
he said, as soon as he could obtain a hearing.
“I not only withdraw it, but I apologize to you
for my folly in making it. It was merely thoughtlessness
on my part, and, resting on your generosity, I should
like you to consider the words unsaid.”
Once more eighteen of the twenty swung
round to his side. Roland now turned his attention
to Conrad Kurzbold, ignoring John Gensbein, who had
sat down flushed after his declamation, bewildered
by the mutability of the many as Coriolanus had been
before him.
“Herr Kurzbold,” began
Roland sternly, “have you any further criticism
to offer?”
“No; but I stand by what I have already said.”
“Well, I thank you for your
honest expression of that determination, and I announce
that you cannot accompany this expedition.”
Again Roland instantaneously lost
the confidence of his auditors, and they were not
slow in making him of the fact.
“This is simply tyranny,”
said Ebearhard. “If a man may not open his
mouth without running danger of expulsion, then all
comradeship is at an end, and I take it that good
comradeship is the pivot on which this organization
turns. I do not remember that we ever placed it
in the power of our president merely by his own word
to cast out one of us from the fellowship. I
may add, Roland, that you seem to harbor strange ideas
concerning rank and power. I have been a member
of this guild much longer than you, and perhaps understand
better its purpose. Our leader is not elected
to govern a band of serfs. Indeed, and I say it
subject to correction from my friends, the very opposite
is the case. Our leader is our servant, and must
conduct himself as we order. It is not for him
to lay down the law to us, but whatever laws exist
for our governance, and I thank Heaven there are few
of them, must be settled in conclave by a majority
of the league.”
“Right! Right!” was
the unanimous cry, and when Ebearhard sat down all
were seated except Roland, who stood at the end of
the table with pale face and compressed lips.
“We are,” he said, “about
to set out against the Barons of the Rhine, entrenched
in their strong castles. Hitherto these men have
been completely successful, defying alike the Government
and the people. It was my hope that we might
reverse this condition of things. Now, Brother
Ebearhard, name me a single Baron along the whole length
of the Rhine who would permit one of his men-at-arms
to bandy words with him on any subject whatever.”
“I should hope,” replied
Ebearhard, “that we do not model our conduct
after that of a robber.”
“The robbers, I beg to point
out to you, Ebearhard, are successful. It is
success we are after, also a portion of that gold of
which Herr Kurzbold has pathetically proclaimed his
need.”
“Do you consider us your men-at-arms,
then, in the same sense that a Rhine Baron would employ
the term?”
“Certainly.”
“You claim the liberty of expelling any one
you choose?”
“Yes; I claim the liberty to hang any of you
if I find it necessary.”
“Oh, the devil!” cried
Ebearhard, sitting down as if this went beyond him.
He gazed up and down the table as much as to say, “I
leave this in your hands, gentlemen.”
The meeting gave immediate expression of its agreement
with Ebearhard.
“Gentlemen,” said Roland,
“I insist that Conrad Kurzbold apologizes to
me for the expressions he has used, and promises not
again to offend in like manner.”
“I’ll do nothing of the sort,” asserted
Kurzbold, with equal firmness.
“In that case,” exclaimed
Roland, “I shall retire, and I ask you to put
me in a position to repay Herr Goebel the money I extracted
from him. I resign the very thankless office
of so-called leadership.”
At this several wallets came out upon
the table, but their contents clinked rather weakly.
The majority of the guild sat silent and sobered by
the crisis that had so unexpectedly come upon them.
Joseph Greusel, seeing that no one else made a move,
uprose, and spoke slowly. He was a man who never
had much to say for himself; a listener rather than
a talker, in whom Roland reposed great confidence,
believing him to be one who would not flinch if trial
came, and he had determined to make Greusel his lieutenant
if the expedition was not wrecked before it set out.
“My friends,” said Greusel
gloomily, “we have arrived at a deadlock, and
I should not venture to speak but that I see no one
else ready to make a suggestion. I cannot claim
to be non-partisan in the matter. This crisis
has been unnecessarily brought about by what I state
firmly is a most ungenerous attack on the part of
Conrad Kurzbold.”
There were murmurs of dissent, but
Greusel proceeded stolidly, taking no notice.
“It is not disputed that Kurzbold
accepted the money from Roland last night, spent it
to-day, and now comes penniless amongst us, quite unable
to refund the amount when his unjust remarks produce
their natural effect. He is like a man who makes
a wager knowing he hasn’t the money to pay should
he lose. If Roland retires from this guild, I
retire also, ashamed to keep company with men who
uphold a trick worthy of a ruined gambler.”
“My dear Joseph,” cried
Ebearhard, springing up with a laugh, “you were
misnamed in your infancy. You should have been
called Herod, practically justifying a slaughter of
us innocents.”
“I stand by Benjamin,”
growled Gruesel, “the youngest and most capable
of our circle; the one who produced the money while
all the rest of us talked.”
“You never talked till now,
Joseph,” said Ebearhard, still trying to ease
the situation with a laugh, “and what you say
is not only deplorably severe, but uttered, as I will
show you, upon entirely mistaken grounds. We
did not, and do not, support Conrad Kurzbold in what
he said at first. Now you rate us as if we were
no better than thieves. Dishonest gamblers, you
call us, and Lord knows what else, and then you threaten
withdrawal. I submit that your diatribe is quite
undeserved. We all condemn Kurzbold for censuring
Roland’s generosity to the merchant, unanimously
upholding Roland in that action, and have said so
plainly enough. What we object to is this:
Roland arrogates to himself power which he does not
possess, of peremptorily expelling any member whose
remarks displease him. Surely you cannot support
him in that any more than we.”
“Let us take one thing at a
time,” resumed Greusel, “not forgetting
from whom came the original provocation. I must
know where we stand. I therefore move a vote
of censure on Conrad Kurzbold for his unmerited attack
upon our president anent his dealings with Herr Goebel.”
“I second that with great pleasure,” said
Ebearhard.
“Now, as we cannot ask our leader
to put that motion, I shall take the liberty of submitting
it myself,” continued Greusel. “All
in favor of the vote of censure which you have heard,
make it manifest by standing up.”
Every one arose except Roland, Gensbein, and Kurzbold.
“There, we have removed that
obstacle to a clear understanding of the case, and
before I formally deliver this vote of censure to Herr
Kurzbold, I request him to reconsider his position,
and of his own motion to make such delivery unnecessary.
“If it is the case that Roland
assumes authority to expel whom he pleases from this
guild, I shall not support him.”
“It is the case! It is the
case!” shouted several.
“Pardon me, comrades; I have
the floor,” continued Greusel. “I
am not attempting oratory, but trying to disentangle
a skein in which we have involved ourselves.
I wish to receive neither applause nor hissing until
I have finished the business. You say it is the
case. I say it is not. Roland gave Herr
Kurzbold the alternative either of apologizing or of
paying over the money, so that it might be returned
to the merchant. As I understand the matter,
our president does not insist on Kurzbold leaving
the guild, but merely announces his own withdrawal
from it. You have allowed Kurzbold to put you
in the position of being compelled to choose between
himself and Roland. If you are logical men you
cannot pass a vote of censure on Kurzbold, and then
choose him instead of Roland. I therefore move
a vote of confidence in our chief, the man who has
produced the money, a thousand thalers in all,
half of which was his own, and has divided it equally
amongst us, when the landlord’s bill was paid,
withholding not a single thaler, nor arrogating I
think that was your word, friend Ebearhard to
himself a stiver more of the money than each of the
others received. While Kurzbold has prated of
comradeship, Roland has given us an excellent example
of it, and I think he deserves our warmest thanks
and our cordial support. I therefore submit to
you the following motion: This meeting tenders
to the president its warmest thanks for his recent
efforts on behalf of the guild, and begs to assure
him of its most strenuous assistance in carrying out
the project he has put before it to-night.”
“Joseph,” said Ebearhard,
rising, with his usual laugh, “you are a very
clever man, although you usually persist in hiding
your light under a bushel. I desire to associate
myself with the expressions you have used, and therefore
second your motion.”
“I now put the resolution which
you have all heard,” said Greusel, “and
I ask those in favor of it to stand.”
Every one stood up promptly enough
except the two recalcitrants, and of those two John
Gensbein showed signs of hesitation and uneasiness.
He half rose, sat down again; then, apparently at
the urging of the man next him, stood up, a picture
of irresolution. Kurzbold, finding himself now
alone, laughed, and got upon his feet, thus making
the vote unanimous. As the company seated itself,
Greusel turned to the president.
“Sir, it is said that all’s
well that ends well. It gives me pleasure to
tender you the unanimous vote of thanks and confidence
of the iron-workers’ guild, and before calling
upon you to make any reply, if such should be your
intention, I will ask Conrad Kurzbold to say a few
words, which I am sure we shall all be delighted to
hear.”
Kurzbold rose bravely enough, in spite
of the fact that Joseph Greusel’s diplomacy
had made a complete separation between him and all
the others.
“I should like to say,”
he began, with an air of casual indifference, “that
my first mention of the money was wholly in jest.
Our friend Roland took my remarks seriously, which,
of course, I should not have resented, and there is
little use in recapitulating what followed. As,
however, my utterances gave offense which was not intended
by me, I have no hesitation in apologizing for them,
and withdrawing the ill-advised sentences. No
one here feels a greater appreciation of what our
president has done than I, and I hope he will accept
my apology in the same spirit in which it is tendered.”
“Now, Master of the Guild,”
said Greusel, and Roland took the floor once more.
“I have nothing to say but ‘Thank
you.’ The antagonists whom we hope to meet
are men brave, determined, and ruthless. If any
one in this company holds rancor against me, I ask
him to turn it towards the Barons, and punish me after
the expedition is accomplished. Let us tolerate
no disagreements in face of the foe.”
The young man took his cloak and sword
from the peg on which they hung, passed down along
the table, and thrust across his hand to Kurzbold,
who shook it warmly. Arriving at the door, Roland
turned round.
“I wish to see Captain Blumenfels,
and give him final instructions regarding our rendezvous
on the Rhine, so good-night. I hope to meet you
all under the shadow of the Elector’s tower in
Hochst to-morrow morning at nine,” and with
that the president departed, being too inexperienced
to know that soft words do not always turn away wrath,
and that mutiny is seldom quelled with a handshake.