TO BE KEPT SECRET FROM THE COUNTESS
There are few favored spots occupied
by blue water and greensward over which a greater
splendor is cast by the rising sun on a midsummer
morning than that portion of the Rhine near Coblentz,
and as our little procession emerged from the valley
of the Saynbach every member of it was struck with
the beauty of the flat country across the Rhine, ripening
toward a yellow harvest, flooded by the golden glory
of the rising sun.
Their route led to the left by the
foot of the eastern hills, and not yet along the margin
of the great river. Gradually, however, as they
journeyed in a southerly direction, the highlands deflected
them westward until at last there was but scant room
for the road between rock and water. Always they
were in the shade, a comforting feature of a midsummer
journey, an advantage, however, soon to be lost when
they crossed the Rhine by the ferry to Coblentz.
The distance from Sayn Castle to Schloss Stolzenfels
was a little less than four leagues, so their early
start permitted a leisurely journey.
The Archbishop and the Countess rode
side by side. Following them at some distance
came Father Ambrose, deep in his meditations, and paying
little attention to the horse he rode, which indeed,
faithful animal, knew more about the way than did
his rider. Still farther to the rear rode half
a dozen mounted lancemen, two and two, the scant escort
of one who commanded many thousands of armed men.
“How lovely and how peaceful
is the scene,” said the Countess. “How
beautiful are the fields of waving grain; their color
of dawn softened by the deep green of interspersed
vineyards, and the water without a ripple, like a
slumbering lake rather than a strong river. It
seems as though anger, contention, and struggle could
not exist in a realm so heavenly.”
“‘Seems’ is the
word to use,” commented the Archbishop gravely,
“but the unbroken placidity of the river you
so much admire is a peace of defeat. I had much
rather see its flood disturbed by moving barges and
the turmoil of commerce. It is a peace that means
starvation and death to our capital city, and, indeed,
in a lesser degree, to my own town of Cologne, and
to Coblentz, whose gates we are approaching.”
“But surely,” persisted
the girl, “the outlook is improving, when you
and I travel unmolested with a mere handful of men
to guard us. Time was when a great and wealthy
Archbishop might not stir abroad with less than a
thousand men in his train.”
The Archbishop smiled.
“I suppose matters mend,”
he said, “as we progress in civilized usage.
The number of my escort, however, is not limited by
my own modesty, but stipulated by the Court of Archbishops.
Mayence travels down the Rhine and Treves down the
Moselle, each with a similar following at his heels.”
“You are pessimistic this lovely
morning, my Lord, and will not even admit that the
world is beautiful.”
“It all depends on the point
of view, Hildegunde. I regard it from a position
toward the end of life, and you from the charming station
of youth: the far-apart outlook of an old man
and a young girl.”
“Nonsense, Guardian, you are
anything but old. Nevertheless I am much disappointed
with your attitude this morning. I fully expected
to be complimented by you.”
“Doesn’t my whole attitude breathe of
compliment?”
“Ah, but I expected a particular compliment
to-day!”
“What have I overlooked?”
“You overlooked the fact that
yesterday you aroused my most intense curiosity regarding
the journey we are now taking together, and the conference
which is to follow. Despite deep anxiety to learn
what is before me I have not asked you a single question,
nor even hinted at the subject until this moment.
Now, I think I should be rewarded for my reticence.”
“Ah, Countess, you are an exception
among women, and I merely withheld the well-earned
praise until such time as I could broach the subject
occupying my mind ever since we left the Castle.
With the awkwardness of a man I did not know how to
begin until you so kindly indicated the way.”
“Perhaps, after all, I make
a false claim, because I have guessed your secret,
and therefore my deep solicitude is assumed.”
“Guessed it?” queried
the Archbishop, a shade of anxiety crossing his face.
“Yes. Your story of the
former Archbishop and the Countess Matilda gave me
a clue. You have discovered a document proving
my right to the town of Linz on the Rhine.”
The Archbishop bowed his head, but said nothing.
“Your sense of justice urges
you to make amends, but such a long time has elapsed
that my claim is doubtless outlawed, and you do not
quite know how restoration may be effected. You
have, I take it, consulted with one or other of your
colleagues, Mayence or Treves, or perhaps with both.
They have made objection to your proposed generosity,
and put forward the argument that you are but temporary
trustee of the Cologne Archbishopric; that you must
guard the rights of your successor; and this truism
could not help but appeal to that quality of equity
which distinguishes you, so a conference of the prelates
has been called, and a majority of that Court will
decide whether or not the town of Linz shall be tendered
to me. Perhaps a suggestion will be made that
I allow things to remain as they are, in which case
I shall at once refuse to accept the town of Linz.
Now, Guardian, how near have I come to solving the
mystery?”
They rode along in silence together,
the Archbishop pondering on the problem of her further
enlightenment. At last he said:
“Cologne is ruled by its Archbishop,
wisely or the reverse as the case may be. The
Archbishop, much as he reveres the opinion of his
distinguished colleagues, would never put them to the
inconvenience of giving a decision on any matter not
concerning them. Linz’s fate was settled
when the handwriting of my predecessor, prelate of
1250 A.D., convinced me that this Rhine town belonged
to the House of Sayn. Restitution has already
been accomplished in due legal form, and when next
the Countess Hildegunde rides through Linz, she rides
through her own town.”
“I shall never, never accept it, Guardian.”
“It is yours now, Countess.
If you do not wish to hold the town, use it as a gift
to the fortunate man you marry. And now, Hildegunde,
this long-postponed advice I wish to press upon your
attention, must be given, for we are nearing the ferry
to Coblentz, and between that town and Stolzenfels
we may have company. Of the three Archbishops
you will meet to-day, there is only one of whom you
need take account.”
“Oh, I know that,” cried
the girl, “his Lordship of Cologne!”
The Archbishop smiled, but went on seriously:
“Where two or three men are
gathered together, one is sure to be leader.
In our case the chief of the trio supposed to be equal
is his Highness of Mayence. Treves and I pretend
not to be under his thumb, but we are: that is
to say, Treves holds I am under his thumb, and I hold
Treves is under his thumb, and so when one or the
other of us join the Archbishop of Mayence, there
is a majority of the Court, and the third member is
helpless.”
“But why don’t you and Treves join together?”
“Because each thinks the other
a coward, and doubtless both are right. The point
of the matter is that Mayence is the iron man of the
combination; therefore I beg you beware of him, and
I also entreat you to agree with the proposal he will
make. It will be of tremendous advantage to you.”
“In that case, my Lord, how could I refuse?”
“I hope, my child, you will
not, but if you should make objection, do so with
all the tact at your disposal. In fact, refrain
wholly from objection if you can, and plead for time
to consider, so that you and I may consult together,
thus affording me opportunity of bringing arguments
to bear that may influence your decision.”
“My dear Guardian, you alarm
me by the awesome way in which you speak. What
fateful choice hangs over my head?”
“I have no wish to frighten
you, my daughter, and, indeed, I anticipate little
chance of disagreement at the conference. I merely
desire that you shall understand something of Mayence.
He is a man whom opposition may drive to extremity,
and being accustomed to crush those who disagree with
him, rather than conquer by more diplomatic methods,
I am anxious you should not be led into any semblance
of dissent from his wishes. By agreement between
Mayence, Treves, and myself, I am not allowed to enlighten
you regarding the question at issue. I perhaps
strain that agreement a little when I endeavor to
put you on your guard. If, at any point in the
discussion, you wish a few moments to reflect, glance
across the table at me, and I shall immediately intervene
with some interruption which must be debated by the
three members of the Court. Of course, I shall
do everything in my power to protect you should our
grim friend Mayence lose his temper, as may happen
if you thwart him.”
“Why am I likely to thwart him?”
“Why indeed? I see no reason.
I am merely an old person perhaps over-cautious.
Hence this warding off of a crisis which I hope will
never arise.”
“Guardian, I have one question
to ask, and that will settle the matter here on the
border of the Rhine, before we reach Stolzenfels.
Do you thoroughly approve, with your heart, mind,
and conscience, of the proposition to be made to me?”
“I do,” replied the Archbishop,
in a tone of conviction that none could gainsay.
“Heart and soul, agree.”
“Then, Guardian, your crisis
that never came vanishes. I shall tell his Lordship
of Mayence, in my sweetest voice and most ingratiating
manner, that I will do whatever he requests.”
Here the conversation ceased, for
the solitude now gave way to a scene of activity,
as they came to the landing alongside which lay the
floating bridge, a huge barge, capable of carrying
their whole company at one voyage. Several hundred
persons, on horseback or on foot, gathered along the
river-bank, raised a cheer as the Archbishop appeared.
The Countess thought they waited to greet him, but
they were merely travelers or market people who found
their journey interrupted at this point. An emissary
of the Archbishop had commanded the ferry-boat to
remain at its eastern landing until his Lordship came
aboard. When the distinguished party embarked,
the crew instantly cast off their moorings, and the
tethered barge, impelled by the swift current, gently
swung across to the opposite shore.
A great concourse of people greeted
their arrival at Coblentz, and if vociferous shouts
and hurrahs are signs of popularity, the Archbishop
had reason to congratulate himself upon his reception.
The prelate bowed and smiled, but did not pause at
Coblentz, and, to the evident disappointment of the
multitude, continued his way up the Rhine. When
the little cavalcade drew away from the mob, the Countess
spoke:
“I had no thought,” she
said, “that Coblentz contained so many inhabitants.”
“Neither does it,” replied the Archbishop.
“Then is this simply an influx
of people from the country, and is the conclave of
the Archbishops of such importance that it draws so
many sightseers?”
“The Court held by the Archbishops
on this occasion is very important. I suspect,
however, that those are no sightseers, for the general
public is quite unaware that we meet to-day.
They who cheered so lustily just now are, I think,
men of Treves.”
“Do you mean soldiers?”
“Aye. Soldiers in the dress
of ordinary townsmen, but I dare say they all know
where to find their weapons should a war-cry arise.”
“Do you imply that the Archbishop
of Treves has broken his compact? I understood
that your escort was limited to the few men following
you.”
His Lordship laughed.
“The Archbishop of Treves,”
he said, “is not a great strategist, yet I surmise
he is ready in case of trouble to seize the city of
Coblentz.”
“What trouble could arise?”
“The present moment is somewhat
critical, for the Emperor lies dying in Frankfort.
We three Electors hope to avoid all commotion by having
our plans prepared and acting upon them promptly.
But the hours between the death of an Emperor and
the appointment of his successor are fateful with
uncertainty. I suppose the good Sisters at Nonnenwerth
taught you about the Election of an Emperor?”
“Indeed, Guardian, I am sorry
to confess that if they did I have forgotten all about
it.”
“There are seven Electors; four
high nobles of the Empire and three Archbishops, Lords
Temporal and Lords Spiritual. The present Count
Palatine of the Rhine is, like my friend Treves, completely
under the dominion of the Archbishop of Mayence, so
the three Lords Spiritual, with the aid of the Count
Palatine, form a majority of the Electoral Court.”
“I understand. And now
I surmise that you assemble at Stolzenfels to choose
our future Emperor.”
“No; he has already been chosen,
but his name will not be announced to any person save
one before the Emperor dies.”
“Doubtless that one is the Count Palatine.”
“No, Countess, he remains ignorant;
and I give you warning, Madam, I am not to be cross-questioned
by indirection. You should be merciful: I
am but clay in your hands, yet there is certain information
I am forbidden to impart, so I will merely say that
if the Archbishop happens to be in good-humor this
afternoon, he is very likely to tell you who will be
the future Emperor.”
The girl gave an exclamation of surprise.
“To tell me? Why should he do so?”
“I said I was not to be cross-examined
any further. I tremble now with apprehension
lest I have let slip something I should not, therefore
we will change the subject to one of paramount importance;
namely, our midday meal. I intended to stop at
Coblentz for that repast, but the Archbishop of Treves,
whose guests we are, was good enough to accept a menu
I suggested, therefore we will sit at table with him.”
“You suggested a menu?”
“Yes; I hope you will approve
of it. There is some excellent Rhine salmon,
with a sauce most popular in Treves, a sauce that has
been celebrated for centuries. Next some tender
venison from the forest behind Stolzenfels, which
is noted for its deer. There are, beside, cakes
and various breads, also vegetables, and all are to
be washed down by delicate Oberweseler wine.
How does my speis-card please you, Countess?”
“I am committing it to memory,
Guardian, so that I shall know what to prepare for
you when next you visit my Castle of Sayn.”
“Oh, this repast is not in my
honor, but in yours. I feared you might object
to the simplicity of it. It is upon record that
this meal was much enjoyed by a young lady some centuries
ago, at this very Castle of Stolzenfels, shortly after
it was completed. Indeed, I think it likely she
was the noble castle’s first guest. Stolzenfels
was built by Arnold von Isenberg, the greatest Archbishop
that ever ruled over Treves, if I may except Archbishop
Baldwin, the fighter. Isenberg determined to have
a stronghold on the Rhine midway between Mayence and
Cologne, and he made it a palace as well as a fortress,
taking his time about it in all seventeen
years. He began its erection in 1242, and so was
building at the time your ancestress Matilda ceded
Linz to the Archbishop of Cologne, therefore I imagine
Cologne probably wished to have a stronghold within
striking distance of Treves’ new castle.
“One of the first to visit Stolzenfels
was a charming young English girl named Isabella,
who was no other than the youngest daughter of John,
King of England. Doubtless she came here with
an imposing suite of attendants, and I surmise that
the great prelate’s castle saw impressive pageants
and festivities, for the chronicler, after setting
down the menu whose excellence I hope to test to-day,
adds:
“’They ate well, and drank
better, and the Royal maiden danced a great deal.’
“Her brother then occupied the
English throne. He was Henry III., and of course
much attention was paid over here to his dancing sister.”
“Why, Guardian, what you say
gives a new interest to old Stolzenfels. I have
never been within the Castle, but now I shall view
it with delight, wondering through which of the rooms
the English Princess danced. Why did Isabella
come from England all the way to the Rhine?”
“She came to meet the three Archbishops.”
“Really? For what purpose?”
“That they might in ecclesiastical
form, and upon the highest ecclesiastical authority,
announce her betrothal.”
“Announce in Stolzenfels the
betrothal of an English Princess, the daughter of
one king and sister of another! Did she, then,
marry a German?”
“Yes; she married the Emperor,
Frederick II.; Frederick of Hohenstaufen.”
Slowly the girl turned her head, and
looked steadfastly at the Archbishop, who was gazing
earnestly up the road as if to catch a glimpse of
the Castle which had been the scene of the events he
related. Her face became pale, and a questioning
wonder rose in her eyes. What did the Archbishop
really mean by this latest historical recital?
True, he was a man who had given much study to ancient
lore; rather fond of exhibiting his proficiency therein
when he secured patient listeners. Could there
be any secret meaning in his story of the English Princess
who danced? Was there any hidden analogy between
the journey of the English Isabella, and the short
trip taken that day by Hildegunde of Sayn? She
was about to speak when the Archbishop made a slight
signal with his right hand, and a horseman who had
followed them all the way from Coblentz now spurred
up alongside of his Lordship, who said sharply to
the newcomer:
“How many of Treves’ men are in Coblentz?”
“Eight hundred and fifty, my Lord.”
“Enough to capture the town?”
“Coblentz is already in their possession, my
Lord.”
“They seem to be unarmed.”
“Their weapons are stored under
guard in the Church of St. Castor, and can be in the
hands of the soldiers within a few minutes after a
signal is rung by the St. Castor’s bells.”
“Are there any troops in Coblentz from Mayence?”
“No, my Lord.”
“How many of my men have been placed behind
the Castle of Stolzenfels?”
“Three thousand are concealed in the forest
near the hilltop.”
“How many men has my Lord of Mayence within
call?”
“Apparently only the scant half-dozen
that reached Stolzenfels with him yesterday.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“Scouts have been sent all through
the forest to the south, and have brought us no word
of an advancing company. Other scouts have gone
up the river as far as Bingen, but everything is quiet,
and it would have been impossible for his Lordship
to march a considerable number of men from any quarter
towards Stolzenfels without one or other of our hundred
spies learning of the movement.”
“Then doubtless Mayence depends on his henchman
Treves.”
“It would seem so, my Lord.”
“Thank you; that will do.”
The rider saluted, turned his horse
towards the north, and galloped away, and a few moments
later the little procession came within sight of Stolzenfels,
standing grandly on its conical hill beside the Rhine,
against a background of green formed by the mountainous
forests to the rear.
This conversation, which she could
not help but hear, had driven entirely from the mind
of Hildegunde the pretty story of the English Princess.
“Why, Guardian!” she said,
“we seem to be in the midst of impending civil
war.”
The Archbishop smiled.
“We are in the midst of an assured peace,”
he replied.
“What! with Coblentz practically
seized, and three thousand of your men lurking in
the woods above us?”
“Yes. I told you that Treves
was no strategist. I suppose he and Mayence imagine
that by seizing the town of Coblentz they cut off my
retreat to Cologne. They know it would be useless
in a crisis for me to journey up the river, as I should
then be getting farther and farther from my base of
supplies both in men and provisions, therefore the
Archbishop of Mayence has neglected to garrison that
quarter.”
“But, Guardian, you are surely
entrapped, with Coblentz thus held?”
“Not so, my child, while I command
three thousand men to their eight hundred.”
“But that means a battle!”
“A battle that will never take
place, Hildegunde, because I shall seize something
much more valuable than any town, namely, the persons
of the two Archbishops. With their Lordships
of Treves and Mayence in my custody, cut off from
communication with their own troops, I have slight
fear of a leaderless army. The very magnitude
of the force at my command is an assurance of peace.”
They now arrived at the branching
hill-road leading up to the gates of Stolzenfels just
above them, and conversation ceased, but the Countess
was fated to remember before the afternoon grew old
the final words Cologne spoke so confidently.