MUTINY IN THE WILDERNESS
It was a lovely morning in July when
Prince Roland walked into the shadow of the handsome
tower which to-day is all that survives of the Elector’s
palace at Hochst, on the river Main. He found
Greusel there awaiting him, but none of the others.
When the two had greeted one another, the Prince said:
“Joseph, I determined several
days ago to appoint you my lieutenant on this expedition.”
“If you take my advice, Roland,
you will do nothing of the kind.”
“Why?”
“Because it may be looked upon
as favoritism, and so promote jealously in the ranks,
which is a thing to avoid.”
“Whom would you suggest for the place?”
“Conrad Kurzbold.”
“What! and run the risk of divided
authority? I am determined to be commander, you
know.”
“Kurzbold, even if made lieutenant,
would be as much under your orders as the rest of
us. He is an energetic man, and you may thus direct
his energy along the right path. From being a
critic, he will become one of the criticised, giving
him something to think about. Then your appointment
of him would show that you bear no ill-feeling for
what he said last night.”
“You appear to think, Greusel,
that it is the duty of a commander to curry favor
with his following.”
“No; but I regard tact as a
useful quality. You see, you are not in the position
of a general with an army. The members of the
guild can depose you whenever they like and elect
a successor, or they may desert you in a body, and
you have no redress. Your methods should not be
drastic, but rather those of a man who seeks election
to some high office.”
“I fear I am not constituted for such a rôle,
Greusel.”
“If you are to succeed in the
task you have undertaken, Roland, you must adapt yourself
to your situation as it actually is, and not as you
would wish to have it. I stood by you yesterday
evening, and succeeded in influencing the others to
do the same, yet there is no denying that you spoke
to those men in a most overbearing manner. Why,
you could not have been more downright had you been
an officer of the Emperor himself. What passed
through my mind as I listened was, ’Where did
this youth get his swagger?’ You ordered Kurzbold
out of the ranks, you know.”
“Then why favor my action?”
“Because I was reluctant to
see a promising marauding adventure wrecked at the
very outset for lack of a few soothing words.”
Roland laughed heartily. The
morning was inspiring, and he was in good fettle.
“Your words to Kurzbold were anything but soothing.”
“Oh, I was compelled to crush
him. He was the cause of the disturbance, and
therefore I had no mercy so far as the affair impinged
upon him. But the others, with the exception
of Gensbein perhaps, are good, honest, sweet-tempered
fellows, whom I did not wish to see misled. I
think you must put out of your mind all thought of
punishment, no matter what the offense against your
authority may be.”
“Then how would you deal with
insubordination when it arises?”
“I should trust to the good
sense of the remaining members of your company to
make it uncomfortable for the offender.”
“But suppose they don’t?”
Greusel shrugged his shoulders.
“In that case you are helpless,
I fear. At any rate, talking of hanging, or the
infliction of any other punishment, is quite futile
so long as you do not possess the power to carry out
your sentence. To return to my simile of the
general: a general can order any private in his
army to be hanged, and the man is taken out and hanged
accordingly, but if one of the guild is to be executed,
he must be condemned by an overwhelming vote of his
fellows, because even if a bare majority sentenced
one belonging to the minority it would mean civil
war among us. Suppose, for example, it was proposed
to hang you, and eleven voted for the execution and
nine against it. Do you think we nine would submit
to the verdict of the eleven? Not so. I
am myself the most peaceful of men, but the moment
it came to that point, I should run my sword through
the proposer of the execution before he had time to
draw his weapon. In other words, I’d murder
him to lessen the odds, and then we’d fight it
out like men.”
“Why didn’t you say all this last night,
Greusel?”
“Last night my whole attention
was concentrated on inducing Kurzbold to forget that
you had threatened the company with a hangman’s
rope. Had he remembered that, I could never have
carried the vote of confidence. But you surely
saw that the other men were most anxious to support
you if your case was placed fairly before them, a
matter which, for some reason, you thought it beneath
your dignity to attempt.”
“My dear Joseph, your wholesale
censure this morning does much to nullify the vote
I received last night.”
“My dear Roland, I am not censuring
you at all; I am merely endeavoring to place facts
before you so that you will recognize them.”
“Quite so, but what I complain
of is that these facts were not exhibited in time
for me to shoulder or shirk the responsibility.
I do not believe that military operations can be successfully
carried on by a little family party, the head of which
must coddle the others in the group, and beg pardon
before he says ‘Devil take you!’ I would
not have accepted the leadership last night had I
known the conditions.”
“Well, it is not yet too late
to recede. The barge does not leave Frankfort
until this evening, and it is but two leagues back
to that city. Within half an hour at the farthest,
every man of us will be assembled here. Now is
the time to have it out with them, because to-morrow
morning the opportunity to withdraw will be gone.”
“It is too late even now, Greusel.
If last night the guild could not make up the money
we owe to Goebel, what hope is there that a single
coin remains in their pockets this morning? Do
I understand, then, that you refuse to act as my lieutenant?”
“No; but I warn you it will
be a step in the wrong direction. You are quite
sure of me; and as merely a man-at-arms, as you called
us last night, I shall be in a better position to
speak in your favor than if I were indebted to you
for promotion from the ranks.”
“I see. Therefore you counsel me to nominate
Kurzbold?”
“I do.”
“Why not Gensbein, who was nearly as mutinous
as Kurzbold?”
“Well, Gensbein, if you prefer him.”
“He showed a well-balanced mind
last night, being part of the time on one side and
part on the other.”
“My dear commander, we were
all against you last night, when you spoke of hanging,
and even when you only went as far as expulsion.”
“Yes, I suppose you were, and
the circumstances being such as you state, doubtless
you were justified. I am to command, then, a regiment
that may obey or not, according to the whim of the
moment; a cheering prospect, and one I had not anticipated.
When I received the promise of twenty men that they
would carry out faithfully whatever I undertook on
their behalf, I expected them to stand by it.”
“I think you are unjust, Roland.
No one has refused, and probably no one will.
If any one disobeys a command, then you can act as
seems best to you, but I wish you fully to realize
the weakness of your status should it come to drastic
punishment.”
“Quite so, quite so,”
said Roland curtly. He clasped his hands behind
his back, and without further words paced up and down
along the bank of the river, head bowed in thought.
Ebearhard was the next arrival, and
he greeted Greusel cordially, then one after another
various members of the company came upon the scene.
To the new-comers Roland made no salutation, but continued
his meditating walk.
At last the bell in the tower pealed
forth nine slow, sonorous strokes, and Roland raised
his head, ceasing his perambulations. Greusel
looked anxiously at him as he came forward to the
group, but his countenance gave no indication whether
or not he had determined to abandon the expedition.
“Are we all here?” asked Roland.
“No,” was the reply; “Kurzbold,
Eiselbert, Rasselstein, and Gensbein have not arrived
yet.”
“Then we will wait for them
a few moments longer,” said the commander, with
no trace of resentment at their unpunctuality, and
from this Greusel assumed that he not only intended
to go on, but had taken to heart the warning given
him. Ebearhard and a comrade walked up the road
rapidly toward Frankfort, hoping for some sign of the
laggards, and Roland resumed his stroll beside the
river. At last Ebearhard and his companion returned,
and the former approached Roland.
“I see nothing of those four,”
he said. “What do you propose to do?”
Roland smiled.
“I think sixteen good men, all
of a mind, will accomplish quite as much as twenty
who are divided in purpose. I propose, therefore,
to go on, unless you consider the missing four necessary,
in which case we can do nothing but wait.”
“I am in favor of going forward,”
said Ebearhard; then turning to the rest, who had
gathered themselves around their captain, he appealed
to them. All approved of immediate action.
“Do you intend to follow the
river road, Captain?” asked Ebearhard.
“Yes, for two or three leagues,
but after that we strike across the country.”
“Very well. We can proceed
leisurely along the road, and our friends may overtake
us if they have any desire to do so.”
“Right!” said Roland. “Then
let us set out.”
The seventeen walked without any company
formation through the village, then, approaching a
wayside tavern, they were hailed by a loud shout from
the drinkers in front of it. Kurzbold was the
spokesman for the party of four, which he, with his
comrades, made up.
“Come here and drink success
to glory,” he shouted. “Where have
you lads been all the morning?”
“The rendezvous,” said
Roland sternly, “was at the Elector’s tower.”
“My rendezvous wasn’t.
I have been here for more than an hour,” said
Kurzbold. “I told you last night that when
I arrived at Hochst I should be thirsty, and would
try to mitigate the disadvantage at a tavern.”
“Yes,” said Ebearhard,
with a laugh, “we can all see you have succeeded
in removing the disadvantage.”
“Oh, you mean I’m drunk,
do you? I’ll fight any man who says I’m
drunk. It was a tremendous thirst caused by the
dryness of my throat from last night, and the dust
on the Frankfort road this morning. It takes a
great deal of wine to overcome two thirsts. Come
along, lads, and drink to the success of the journey.
No hard feeling. Landlord, set out the wine here
for seventeen people, and don’t forget us four
in addition.”
The whole company strolled in under
the trees that fronted the tavern, except Roland,
who stood aloof.
“Here’s a salute to you,
Captain,” cried Kurzbold. “I drink
wine with you.”
“Not till we return from a successful
expedition,” said Roland.
“Oh, nonsense!” hiccoughed
Kurzbold. “Don’t think that your office
places you so high above us that it is infra dig.
to drink with your comrades.”
To this diatribe Roland made no reply,
and the sixteen, seeing the attitude of their leader,
hesitated to raise flagon to lip. The diplomatic
Ebearhard seized a measure of wine and approached Roland.
“Drink with us, Commander,”
he said aloud; and then in a whisper, “Greusel
and I think you should.”
“Thank you, comrade,”
said Roland, taking the flagon from him. “And
now, brethren, I give you a toast.”
“Good, good, good!” cried
Kurzbold, with drunken hilarity. “Here’s
to the success of the expedition. That’s
the toast, I make no doubt, eh, Captain?”
“The sentiment is included in
the toast I shall offer you. Drink to the health
of Joseph Greusel, whom I have this morning appointed
my lieutenant. If we all conduct ourselves as
honorably and capably as he, our project is bound
to prosper.”
Greusel, who was seated at a table,
allowed his head to sink into his hands. Here
was his advice scouted, and a direct challenge flung
in the face of the company. He believed now that,
after all, Roland had resolved to return to Frankfort,
money or no money. If he intended to proceed
to the Rhine, then even worse might happen, for it
was plain he was bent on rule or ruin. Instantly
the challenge was accepted. Kurzbold stood up,
swaying uncertainly, compelled to maintain his upright
position by grasping the top of the table at which
he had been seated.
“Stop there, stop there!”
he cried. “No man drinks to that toast just
yet. Patience, patience! all things in their order.
If we claim the power to elect our captain, by the
cock-crowned Cross of the old bridge we have a right
to name the lieutenant! This is a question for
the companionship to decide, and a usurpation on the
part of Roland.”
“Sit down, you fool!”
shouted Ebearhard savagely. “You’re
drunk. The Captain couldn’t have made a
better selection. What say you, comrades?”
A universal shout of “Aye!”
greeted the question, and even Kurzbold’s three
comrades joined in it.
“And now, gentlemen, no more
talk. Here’s to the health of the new lieutenant,
Joseph Greusel.”
The toast was drunk enthusiastically,
all standing, with the exception of Kurzbold, who
came down in his seat with a thud.
“All right!” he cried,
waving his hand. “All right; all right!
That’s what I said. Greusel’s good
man, and now he’s elected by the companionship,
he’s all right. I drink to him. Drink
to anybody, I will!”
In groping round for the flagon, he
upset it, and then roared loudly for the landlord
to supply him again.
“Now, comrades,” said
Roland sharply, “fall in! We’ve a
long march ahead of us. Come, Greusel, we must
lead the van, for I wish to instruct you in your duties.”
It was rather a straggling procession
that set out from Hochst.
“Perhaps,” began Roland,
as he strode along beside Greusel, “I should
make some excuse for not following the advice you so
strenuously urged upon me this morning regarding the
appointment of a lieutenant. The truth is I wished
to teach you a lesson, and could not resist the temptation
of proving that a crisis firmly and promptly met disappears,
whereas if you compromise with it there is a danger
of being overwhelmed.”
“I admit. Commander, that
you were successful just now, and the reason is that
most of our brigade are sane and sober this morning.
But wait until to-night, when the wine passes round
several times, and if you try conclusions with them
then you are likely to fail.”
“But the wine won’t pass round to-night.”
“How can you prevent it?”
“Wait, and you will see,” said Roland,
with a laugh.
By this time they arrived at a fork
in the road, one section going southwest and the other
straight west. The left branch was infinitely
the better thoroughfare, for the most part following
the Main until it reached the Rhine. Roland,
however, chose the right-hand road.
“I thought you were going along by the river,”
said his lieutenant.
“I have changed my mind,” replied Roland,
without further explanation.
At first Kurzbold determined to set
the pace. He would show the company he was not
drunk, and tax them to follow him, but, his stout legs
proving unable to carry out this excellent resolution,
he gradually fell to the rear. As the sun rose
higher, and grew hotter, the pace began to tell on
him, and he accepted without protest the support of
two comrades who had been drinking with him at Hochst.
He retrograded into a condition of pessimistic dejection
as the enthusiasm of the wine evaporated. A little
later he wished to lie down by the roadside and allow
a cruel and unappreciative world to pass on its own
way, but his comrades encouraged him to further efforts,
and in some manner they succeeded in dragging him
along at the tail of the procession.
As they approached the village of
Zeilsheim, Roland requested his lieutenant to inform
the marchers that there would be no halt until mittagessen.
Zeilsheim is rather more than a league
from Hochst, and Kurzbold allowed himself to wake
up sufficiently to maintain that the distance earned
another drink, but his supporters dragged him on with
difficulty past those houses which displayed a bush
over the door. At the larger town of Hofheim,
five leagues from Frankfort, the same command was passed
down the ranks, and at this there was some grumbling,
for the day had become very hot, and the way was exceedingly
trying, up hill and down dale.
Well set up as these city lads were,
walking had never been their accustomed exercise.
The interesting Taunus mountains, which to-day
constitute an exercise ground full of delights to the
pedestrian, forming, as they do, practically a suburb
of Frankfort, were at that time an unexplored wilderness,
whose forests were infested by roving brigands, where
no man ventured except at the risk of an untimely grave.
The mediaeval townsman rarely trusted himself very
far outside the city gates, and our enterprising marauders,
whom to outward view seemed stalwart enough to stand
great fatigue, proved so soft under the hot sun along
the shadeless road that by the time they reached Breckenheim,
barely six leagues from Frankfort, there was a mopping
of brows and a general feeling that the limit of endurance
had been reached.
At Breckenheim Roland called a halt
for midday refreshment, and he was compelled to wait
nearly half an hour until the last straggler of his
woebegone crew limped from the road on to the greensward
in front of the Weinstaube which had been selected
for a feeding-place. Black bread and a coarse
kind of country cheese were the only provisions obtainable,
but of these eatables there was an ample supply, and,
better than all to the jaded wayfarers, wine in abundance,
of good quality, too, for Breckenheim stands little
more than a league to the north of the celebrated
Hochheim.
The wanderers came in by ones and
twos, and sank down upon the benches before the tavern,
or sprawled at full length on the short grass, where
Kurzbold and his three friends dropped promptly off
into sleep. A more dejected and amenable gang
even Roland could not have wished to command.
Every ounce of fight, or even discussion, was gone
from them. They cared not where they were, or
what any one said to them. Their sole desire was
to be let alone, and they took not the slightest interest
even in the preparing of their frugal meal. A
mug of wine served to each mitigated the general depression,
although Kurzbold showed how far gone he was by swearing
dismally when roused even to drink the wine. He
said he was resolved to lead a temperate life in future,
but nevertheless managed to dispose of his allowance
in one long, parched draught.
Greusel approached his chief.
“There will be some difficulty,”
he said, “when this meal has to be paid for.
I find that the men are all practically penniless.”
“Tell them they need anticipate
no trouble about that,” replied Roland.
“I have settled the bill, and will see that they
do not starve or die of thirst before we reach the
Rhine.”
“It is proposed,” continued
Greusel, “that each man should give all the
money he possesses into a general fund to be dealt
with by a committee the men will appoint. What
do you say to this?”
“There is nothing to say.
I notice that the proposal was not made until the
proposers’ pouches were empty.”
“They know that some of us have
money,” Greusel went on, “myself, for
instance, and they wish us to share as good comrades
should at least, that is their phrase.”
“An admirable phrase, yet I
don’t agree with it. How much money have
you, Greusel?”
“The thirty thalers are
practically intact, and Ebearhard has about the same.”
“Well, fifty thalers lie
safe in my pouch, but not a coin goes into the treasury
of any committee the men may appoint. If they
choose a committee, let them finance it themselves.”
“There will be some dissatisfaction
at that decision, Commander.”
“I dare say. Still, as
you know, I am always ready to do anything conducive
to good feeling, so you may inform them that you and
Ebearhard and myself, that is, three of us, will contribute
to the committee’s funds an amount equal to
that subscribed by the other eighteen. Such lavishness
on our part ought to satisfy them.”
“It won’t, Commander,
because there’s not a single kreuzer among the
eighteen.”
“So be it. That’s
as far as I am willing to go. Appeal to their
reasoning powers, Greusel. If each of the eighteen
contributes one thaler, we three will contribute six
thalers apiece. Ask them whether they do
not think we are generous when we do six times more
than any one of them towards providing capital for
a committee.”
“’Tis not willingness they lack, Commander,
but ability.”
“They are not logical, Joseph.
They prate of comradeship, and when it comes to an
exercise of power they demand equality. How, then,
can they, with any sense of fairness, prove ungrateful
to us when we offer to bear six times the burden they
are asked to shoulder?”
The lieutenant said no more, but departed
to announce the decision to the men, and either the
commander’s reasoning overcame all opposition,
or else the company was too tired to engage in a controversy.
When the black bread and cheese were
served, with a further supply of wine, all sat up
and ate heartily. The banquet ended, Greusel made
an announcement to the men. There would now be
an hour’s rest, he said, before taking to the
road again. The meal and the wine had been paid
for by the commander, so no one need worry on that
account, but if any man wished more wine he must pay
the shot himself. However, before the afternoon’s
march was begun flagons of wine would be served at
the commander’s expense. This information
was received in silence, and the men stretched themselves
out on the grass to make the most of their hour of
rest. Roland strolled off alone to view the village.
The lieutenant and Ebearhard sat together at a table,
conversing in low tones.
“Well,” said Ebearhard, “what do
you think of it all?”
“I don’t know what to
think,” replied Greusel. “If the Barons
of the Rhine could see us, and knew that we intended
to attack them, I imagine there would be a great roar
of laughter.”
Ebearhard emulated the Barons, and
laughed. He was a cheerful person.
“I don’t doubt it,”
he said; “and talking of prospects, what’s
your opinion of the Commander?”
“I am quite adrift on that score
also. This morning I endeavored to give him some
good advice. I asked him not to appoint me lieutenant,
but to choose Kurzbold or Gensbein from among the
malcontents, for I thought if responsibility were
placed on their shoulders we should be favored with
less criticism.”
“A very good idea it seems to me,” remarked
Ebearhard.
“Well, you saw how promptly
he ignored it, yet after all there may be more wisdom
in that head of his than I suspected. Look you
how he has made a buffer of me. He gives no commands
to the men himself, but merely orders me to pass along
the word for this or that. He appears determined
to have his own way, and yet not to bring about a personal
conflict between himself and his following.”
“Do you suppose that to be cowardice on his
part?”
“No; he is not a coward.
He doubtless intends that I shall stand the brunt
of any ill-temper on the part of the men. Should
disobedience arise, it will be my orders that are
disobeyed, not his. If the matter is of no importance
one way or the other, I take it he will say nothing,
but I surmise that when it comes to the vital point,
he will brush me aside as though I were a feather,
and himself confront the men regardless of consequences.
This morning I thought they would win in such a case,
but, by the iron Cross, I am not so confident now.
Remember how he sprung my appointment on the crowd,
counting, I am sure, on your help. He said to
me, when we were alone by the tower, that you were
the most fair-minded man among the lot, and he evidently
played on that, giving them not a moment to think,
and you backed him up. He carried his point,
and since then has not said a word to them, all orders
going through me, but I know he intended, as he told
you, to take the river road, instead of which he has
led us over this hilly district until every man is
ready to drop. He is himself very sparing of wine,
and is in fit condition. I understand he has
tramped both banks of the Rhine, from Ehrenfels to
Bonn, so this walk is nothing to him. At the end
of it he was off for a stroll, and here are these
men lying above the sod like the dead underneath it.”
“I cannot make him out,”
mused Ebearhard. “What has been his training?
He appears to be well educated, and yet in some common
matters is ignorant as a child, as, for instance,
not knowing the difference in status between a skilled
artisan and a chaffering merchant! What can have
been his up-bringing? He is obviously not of the
merchant class, yet he persuades the chief of our
merchants, and the most conservative, to engage in
this wild goose chase, and actually venture money and
goods in supporting him. This expedition will
cost Herr Goebel at least five thousand thalers,
all because of the blandishments of a youth who walked
in from the street, unintroduced. Then he is not
an artisan of any sort, for when he joined us his
hands were quite useless, except upon the sword-hilt.”
“He said he was a fencing-master,” explained
Greusel.
“I know he did, and yet when
he was offered a fee to instruct us he wouldn’t
look at it. The first duty of a fencing-master,
like the rest of us, is to make money. Roland
quite evidently scorns it, and at the last instructs
us for nothing. Fencing-masters don’t promote
freebooting expeditions, and, besides, a fencing-master
is always urbane and polite, cringing to every one.
I have watched Roland closely at times, trying to
study him, and in doing so have caught momentary glimpses
of such contempt for us, that, by the good Lord above
us, it made me shrivel up. You know, Greusel,
that youth has more of the qualities usually attributed
to a noble than those which go to the make-up of any
tradesman.”
“He is a puzzle to me,”
admitted Greusel, “and if this excursion does
not break up at the outset, I am not sure that it will
be a success.”
Noticing a look of alarm in Ebearhard’s
eyes, Greusel cast a glance over his shoulder, and
saw Roland standing behind him. The young man
said quietly:
“It hasn’t broken up at
the outset, for we are already more than five leagues
from Frankfort. Our foray must be a success while
I have two such wise advisers as I find sitting here.”
Neither of the men replied. Both
were wondering how much their leader had overheard.
He took his place on the bench beside Ebearhard, and
said to him:
“I wish you to act as my second
lieutenant. If anything happens to me, Greusel
takes my place and you take his. This, by the
way, is an appointment, rather than an election.
It is not to be put before the guild. You simply
act as second lieutenant, and that is all there is
about it.”
“Very good, Commander,” said Ebearhard.
“Greusel, how much money have you?”
“Thirty thalers.”
“Economical man! Will you lend me the sum
until we reach
Assmannshausen?”
“Certainly.” Greusel
pulled forth his wallet, poured out the gold, and
Roland took charge of it.
“And you, Ebearhard? How are you off for
funds?”
“I possess twenty-five thalers.”
“May I borrow from you as well?”
“Oh, yes.”
“I was thinking,” continued
the young man, as he put away the gold, “that
this committee idea of the men has merits of its own;
therefore I have formed myself into a committee, appointed,
not elected, and will make the disbursements.
How much money does our company possess?”
“Not a stiver, so far as I can learn.”
“Ah, in that case there is little
use in my attempting a collection. Now, as I
was saying, Greusel, if anything happens to me, you
carry on the enterprise along the lines I have laid
down. The first thing, of course, is to reach
Assmannshausen.”
“Nothing can happen to you before we arrive
there,” hazarded Greusel.
“I’m not so sure.
The sun is very powerful to-day, and should it beat
me down, let me lie where I fall, and allow nothing
to interrupt the march. Once at Assmannshausen,
you two must keep a sharp lookout up the river.
When you see the barge, gather your men and lead them
up to it. It is to await us about half a league
above Assmannshausen.”
The three conversed until the hour
was consumed, then Roland, throwing his cloak over
his arm, rose, and said to his lieutenant:
“Just rouse the men, if you
please; and you, Ebearhard, tell the landlord to give
each a flagon of wine. We take the road to Wiesbaden.
I shall walk slowly on ahead, so that you and the
company may overtake me.”
With this the young leader sauntered
indifferently away, leaving to his subordinates the
ungracious task of setting tired men to their work
again. Greusel looked glum, but Ebearhard laughed.
Some distance to the east of Wiesbaden
the leader deflected his company from the road, and
thus they passed Wiesbaden to the left, arriving at
the village of Sonnenberg. The straggling company
made a halt for a short time, while provisions were
purchased, every man carrying his own share, which
was scantly sufficient for supper and breakfast, and
a quantity of wine was acquired to gratify each throat
with about a liter and a half; plenty for a reasonable
thirst, but not enough for a carouse.
The company grumbled at being compelled
to quit Sonnenberg. They had hoped to spend the
night at Wiesbaden, and vociferously proclaimed themselves
satisfied with the amount of country already traversed.
Their leader said nothing, but left Greusel and Ebearhard
to deal with them. He paid for the provisions
and the wine, and then, with his cloak loosely over
his arm, struck out for the west, as if the declining
sun were his goal. The rest followed him slowly,
in deep depression of spirits. They were in a
wild country, unknown to any of them. The hills
had become higher and steeper, and there was not even
a beaten path to follow; but Roland, who apparently
knew his way, trudged steadily on in advance even
of his lieutenants. A bank of dark clouds had
risen in the east, the heat of the day being followed
by a thunderstorm that growled menacingly above the
Taunus mountains, evidently accompanying a torrent
of rain, although none fell in the line of march.
The sun had set when the leader brought
his company down into the valley of the Walluf, about
two and a half leagues from Sonnenberg. Here the
men found themselves in a wilderness through which
ran a brawling stream. Roland announced to them
that this would be their camping place for the night.
At once there was an uproar of dissent. How were
they to camp out without tents? A heavy rain
was impending. Listen to the thunder, and taking
warning from the swollen torrent.
“Wrap your cloaks around you,”
said Roland, “and sleep under the trees.
I have often done it myself, and will repeat the experience
to-night. If you are not yet tired enough to
ensure sound slumber, I shall be delighted to lead
you on for another few leagues.”
The men held a low-voiced, sullen
consultation, gathered in a circle. They speedily
decided upon returning to Sonnenberg, which it was
the unanimous opinion of the company they should never
have left. Townsmen all, who had not in their
lives spent a night without a roof over their heads,
such accommodation as their leader proposed they should
endure seemed like being cast away on a desert island.
The mystery of the forest affrighted them. For
all they could tell the woods were full of wild animals,
and they knew that somewhere near lurked outlaws no
less savage. The eighteen, ignoring Greusel and
Ebearhard, who stood on one side, watching their deliberations
with anxious faces, moved in a body upon their leader,
who sat on the bank of the torrent, his feet dangling
down towards the foaming water.
“We have resolved to return
to Sonnenberg,” said the leader of the conclave.
“An excellent resolution,”
agreed Roland cheerfully. “It is a pleasant
village, and I have passed through it several times.
By the way, Wiesbaden, which is much larger, possesses
the advantage to tired men of being half a league
nearer.”
The spokesman seemed taken aback by
Roland’s nonchalant attitude.
“We do not know the road to
Wiesbaden, and, indeed, are in some doubt whether
or no we can find our way to Sonnenberg with darkness
coming on.”
“Then if I were you, I shouldn’t
attempt it. Why not eat your supper, and drink
your wine in this sheltering grove?”
“By that time it will be as
dark as Erebus,” protested the spokesman.
“Then remain here, as I suggested, for the night.”
“No; we are determined to reach Sonnenberg.
A storm impends.”
“In that case, gentlemen, don’t
let me detain you. The gloom thickens as you
spend your time in talk.”
“Oh, that’s all very well,
but when we reach Sonnenberg we shall need money.”
“So you will.”
“And we intend to secure it.”
“Quite right.”
“We demand from you three thalers for each
man.”
“Oh, you want the money from me?”
“Yes, we do.”
“That would absorb all the funds I possess.”
“No matter. We mean to have it.”
“You propose to take it from me by force?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, well, such being the case,
perhaps it would be better for me to yield willingly?”
“I think so.”
“I quite agree with you.
There are eighteen of you, all armed with swords,
while I control but one blade.”
Saying this he unfastened his cloak,
which he had put on in the gathering chill of the
evening, and untying from his belt a well-filled wallet,
held it up to their gaze.
“As this bag undisputedly belongs
to me, I have a right to dispose of it as I choose.
I therefore give it to the brook, whose outcry is as
insistent as yours, and much more musical.”
“Stop, Roland, stop!”
shouted Ebearhard, but the warning came too late.
The young man flung the bag into the torrent, where
it disappeared in a smother of foam. He rose
to his feet and drew his sword.
“If you wish a fight now, it
will be for the love of it, no filthy lucre being
at stake.”
“By Plutus, you are an accursed
fool!” cried the spokesman, making no further
show of aggression now that nothing but steel was to
be gained by a contest.
“A fool; yes!” said Roland.
“And therefore the better qualified to lead
all such. Now go to Sonnenberg, or go to Hades!”
The men did neither. They sat
down under the trees, ate their supper, and drank
their wine.
“Will you dine with me?”
said Roland, approaching his two gloomy lieutenants,
who stood silent at some distance from the circle formed
by the others.
“Yes,” said Greusel sullenly,
“but I would have dined with greater pleasure
had you not proven the spokesman’s words true.”
“You mean about my being a fool?
Oh, you yourself practically called me that this morning.
Come, let us sit down farther along the stream, where
they cannot overhear what we say.”
This being done, Roland continued cheerfully:
“I may explain to you that a
week ago I had only a wallet of my own, but before
leaving on this journey I called upon my mother, and
she presented me with another bag. I foresaw
during mittagessen that a demand would be made
upon us for money, therefore I borrowed all that you
two possessed. Walking on ahead, I prepared for
what I knew must come, filling the empty wallet with
very small stones picked up along the road. That
wallet went into the stream. It is surprising
how prone human nature is to jump at conclusions.
Why should any of you think that I am simpleton enough
to throw away good money? Dear, dear, what a world
this is, to be sure!”
Half an hour later all were lying
down enveloped in their cloaks, sleeping soundly because
of their fatigue, despite being out of doors.
Next morning there was consternation in the camp, real
or pretended. Roland was nowhere to be found,
nor did further search reveal his whereabouts.