THE MISSING LEADER AND THE MISSING GOLD
Probably because of the new responsibility
resting upon him, Joseph Greusel was the first to
awaken next morning. He let his long cloak fall
from his shoulders as he sat up, and gazed about him
with astonishment. It seemed as if some powerful
wizard of the hills had spirited him away during the
night. He had gone to sleep in a place of terror.
The thunder rolled threateningly among the peaks of
Taunus, and the reflection of the lightning flash,
almost incessant in its recurrence, had lit up the
grove with an unholy yellow glare. The never-ceasing
roar of the foaming torrent, which in the darkness
gleamed with ghostly pallor, had somehow got on his
nerves. Under the momentary illumination of the
lightning, the waves appeared to leap up at him like
a pack of hungry wolves, flecked with froth, and the
noise strove to emulate the distant thunder.
The grove itself was ominous in its gloom, and sinister
shapes seemed to be moving about among the trees.
How different was the aspect now!
The sun was still beneath the eastern horizon.
The cloudless sky gave promise of another warm day,
and the air, of crystalline clearness, was inspiring
to breathe. To Greusel’s mind, tinged with
religious feeling, the situation in which he found
himself seemed like a section of the Garden of Eden.
The stream, which the night before had been to his
superstitious mind a thing of terror, was this morning
a placid, smiling, rippling brook that a man might
without effort leap across.
He rubbed his eyes in amazement, thinking
the mists of sleep must be responsible for this magic
transformation, until he remembered the distant thunderstorm
of the night before among the eastern mountains, and
surmised that a heavy rainfall had deluged these speedily
drained peaks and valleys.
“What a blessed thing,”
he said to himself fervently, “is the ever-recurring
morning. How it clears away the errors and the
passions of darkness! It is as if God desired
to give man repeated opportunities of reform, and
of encouragement. How sane everything seems now,
as compared with the turbulence of the sulphurous
night.”
As he rose he became aware of an unaccustomed
weight by his side, and putting down his hand was
astonished to encounter a bag evidently filled with
coin. It had been tied by its deerskin thong to
his belt, just as was his own empty wallet. He
sat down again, drew it round to the front of him,
and unfastened it. Pouring out the gold, he found
that the wallet contained a hundred and fifteen thalers,
mostly in gold, with the addition of a few silver
coins. At once it occurred to him that these
were Roland’s sixty thalers, his own thirty,
and Ebearhard’s twenty-five. For some reason,
probably fearing the men would suspect the ruse practiced
on them the night before, Roland had made him treasurer
of the company. But why should he have done it
surreptitiously?
Readjusting the leathern sack, he
again rose to his feet, but now cast his cloak about
him, thus concealing the purse. Ebearhard lay
sound asleep near him. Farther away the eighteen
remaining members of the company were huddled closely
together, as if they had gone to rest in a room too
small for them, although the whole country was theirs
from which to choose sleeping quarters.
Remembering how the brook had decreased
in size, and was now running clear and pellucid, he
feared that the bag of stones Roland had so dramatically
flung into it might be plainly visible. He determined
to rouse his commander, and seek the bag for some
distance downstream; for he knew that when the men
awakened, all night-fear would have departed from
them, and seeing the shrinkage of the brook they might
themselves institute a search.
On looking round for Roland he saw
no sign of him, but this caused little disquietude,
for he supposed that the leader had risen still earlier
than himself, wishing to stroll through the forest,
or up and down the rivulet.
Greusel, with the purpose of finding
the bag, and in the hope, also, of encountering his
chief, walked down the valley by the margin of the
waterway. Peering constantly into the limpid waters,
he discovered no trace of what he sought. Down
and down the valley, which was wooded all the way,
he walked, and sometimes he was compelled to forsake
his liquid guide, and clamber through thickets to
reach its border again.
At last he arrived at a little waterfall,
and here occurred a break in the woods, causing him
to stand entranced by the view which presented itself.
Down the declivity the forest lasted for some distance,
then it gave place to ever-descending vineyards, with
here and there a house showing among the vines.
At the foot of this hill ran a broad blue ribbon,
which he knew to be the Rhine, although he had never
seen it before. Over it floated a silvery gauze
of rapidly disappearing mist. The western shore
appeared to be flat, and farther along the horizon
was formed by hills, not so lofty as that on which
he stood, but beautiful against the blue sky, made
to seem nearer than they were by the first rays of
the rising sun, which tipped the summits with crimson.
Greusel drew a long breath of deep
satisfaction. He had never before realized that
the world was so enchanting and so peaceful. It
seemed impossible that men privileged to live in such
a land could find no better occupation than cutting
one another’s throats.
The gentle plash of the waterfall
at his right hand accentuated the stillness.
From his height he glanced down into the broad, pellucid
pool, into whose depths the water fell, and there,
perfectly visible, lay the bag of bogus treasure.
Cautiously he worked his way down to the gravelly
border of the little lake, flung off his clothes, and
plunged head-first into this Diana’s pool.
It was a delicious experience, and he swam round and
round the circular basin, clambered up on the gravel
and allowed the stream to fall over his glistening
shoulders, reveling in Nature’s shower-bath.
Satisfied at length, he indulged in another rainbow
plunge, grasped the bag, and rose again to the surface.
Coming ashore, he unloosened the swollen thongs, poured
out the stones along the strand, then, after a moment’s
thought, he wrung the water out of the bag itself,
and tied it to his belt, for there was no predicting
where the men would wander when once they awoke, and
if he threw it away among the bushes, it might be
found, breeding first wonder how it came there, and
then suspicion of the trick.
Greusel walked back to camp by the
other bank of the stream. Although the early
rays of the sun percolated through the upper branches
of the trees above them, the eighteen prone men slept
as if they were but seven. He sprang over the
brook, touched the recumbent Ebearhard with his foot,
and so awoke him. This excellent man yawned, and
stretched out his arms above his head.
“You’re an early bird,
Greusel,” he said. “Have you got the
worm?”
“Yes, I have,” replied
the latter. “I found it in the basin of
a waterfall nearly a league from here,” and
with that he drew aside his cloak, showing the still
wet but empty bag.
For a few moments Ebearhard did not
understand. He rose and shook himself, glancing
about him.
“Great Jove!” he cried,
“this surely isn’t the stream by which
we lay down last night? Do you mean to tell me
that thread of water struck terror into my heart only
a few hours ago? I never slept out of doors before
in all my life, and could not have imagined it would
produce such an effect. I see what you mean now.
You have found the bag which Roland threw into the
foaming torrent.”
“Yes; I was as much astonished
at the transformation as you when I awoke, and then
it occurred to me that when our friends saw the reduction
of the rivulet, they would forthwith begin a treasure-hunt,
so I determined to obliterate the evidence.”
“Was the bag really full of stones?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Well, that is a lesson to me.
I believe after all that Roland is helplessly truthful,
but last night I thought he befooled us. I was
certain it was the bag of coin he had thrown away,
and becoming ashamed of himself, had lied to us.”
“How could you imagine that? He showed
us both the bag of money.”
“He produced a bag full of something,
but I, being the doubting Thomas of the group, was
not convinced it contained money.”
“Ah, that reminds me, Ebearhard;
here is the bag we saw last night. I discovered
it attached to my belt this morning.”
“He attached it to the wrong
belt, then, for you believed him. He should have
tied it to mine. What reason does he give for
presenting it to you?”
“Ah, now you touch a point of
anxiety in my own mind. I have seen nothing of
Roland this morning. I surmised that he had arisen
before me, and expected to meet him somewhere down
the stream, but have not done so.”
“He may have gone farther afield.
As you found the bag, he of course, missed it, and
probably continued his search.”
“I doubt that, because I came
upon a point of view reaching to the Rhine and the
hills beyond. I could trace the stream for a considerable
distance, and watched it for a long time, but there
appeared to be nothing alive in the forest.”
“You don’t suppose he
has gone back to Frankfort, do you?”
“I am at loss what to think.”
“If he has abandoned this gang
of malcontents, I should be the last to blame him.
The way these pigs acted yesterday was disgraceful,
ending up their day with rank mutiny and threats of
violence. By the iron Cross, Greusel, he has
forsaken this misbegotten lot, and it serves them
perfectly right, prating about comradeship and carrying
themselves like cut-throats. This is Roland’s
method of returning our money, for I suppose that
bag contains your thirty thalers and my twenty-five.”
“Yes, and his own sixty as well.
Poor disappointed devil, generous to the last.
It was he who obtained all the money at the beginning,
then these drunken swine spend it on wine, and prove
so generous and brave that eighteen of them muster
courage enough to face one man, and he the man who
had bestowed the gold upon them.”
“Greusel, the whole situation
fills me with disgust. I propose we leave the
lot sleeping there, go to Wiesbaden for breakfast,
and then trudge back to Frankfort. It would serve
the brutes right.”
“No,” said Greusel quietly;
“I shall carry out Roland’s instructions.”
“I thought you hadn’t seen him this morning?”
“Not a trace of him. You heard his orders
at Breckenheim.”
“I don’t remember. What were they?”
“That if anything happened to
him, I was to drive the herd to Assmannshausen.
I quite agree with you, Ebearhard, that he is justified
in deserting this menagerie, but, on the other hand,
you and I have stood faithfully by him, and it doesn’t
seem to me right that he should leave us without a
word. I don’t believe he has done so, and
I expect any moment to see him return.”
“You’re wrong, Greusel.
He’s gone. That purse is sufficient explanation,
and as you recall to my mind his instructions, I believe
something of this must have suggested itself to him
even that early in the day. He has divested himself
of every particle of money in his possession, turning
it over to you, but instead of returning to Frankfort
he has made his way over the hills to Assmannshausen,
and will await us there.”
“What would be the object of that?”
“One reason may be that he will
learn whether or not you have enough control over
these people to bring them to the Rhine. He will
satisfy himself that your discipline is such as to
improve their manners. It may be in his mind
to resign, and make you leader, if you prove yourself
able to control them.”
“Suppose I fail in that?”
“Well, then this
is all fancy, remember I imagine he may
look round Assmannshausen to find another company
who will at least obey him.”
“What you say sounds very reasonable.
Still, I do not see why he should have left two friends
like us without a word.”
“A word, my dear Greusel, would
have led to another, and another, and another.
One of the first questions asked him would be ’But
what are Ebearhard and I to do?’ That’s
exactly what he doesn’t wish to answer.
He desires to know what you will do of your own accord.
He is likely rather hopeless about this mob, but is
giving you an opportunity, and then another chance.
Why, his design is clear as that rivulet there, and
as easily seen through. You will either bring
those men across the hills, or you won’t.
If you and I are compelled to clamber over to Assmannshausen
alone, Roland will probably be more pleased to see
us than if we brought this rogues’ contingent
straggling at our heels. He will appoint you
chief officer of his new company, and me the second.
If you doubt my conclusions, I’ll wager twenty-five
thalers against your thirty that I am in the
right.”
“I never gamble, Ebearhard,
especially when certain to lose. You are a shrewder
man than I, by a long bowshot.”
In a work of fiction it would of course
be concealed till the proper time came that all of
these men were completely wrong in their prognostications
regarding the fate of Roland, but this being history
it may be stated that the young man had not the least
desire to test Greusel’s ability, nor would
his lieutenants find him awaiting them when they reached
Assmannshausen.
“Hello! Rouse up there!
What have we for breakfast? Has all the wine
been drunk? I hope not. My mouth’s
like a brick furnace!”
It was the brave Kurzbold who spoke,
as he playfully kicked, not too gently, those of his
comrades who lay nearest him. He was answered
by groans and imprecations, as one by one the sleeping
beauties aroused themselves, and wondered where the
deuce they were.
“Who has stolen the river?” cried Gensbein.
“Oh, stealing the river doesn’t
matter,” said a third. “It’s
only running water. Who drank all the wine?
That’s a more serious question.”
“Well, whoever’s taken
away the river, I can swear without searching my pouch
has made no theft from me, for I spent my last stiver
yesterday.”
“Don’t boast,” growled
Kurzbold. “You’re not alone in your
poverty. We’re all in the same case.
Curse that fool of a Roland for throwing away good
money just when it’s most needed.”
“Good money is always most needed,”
exclaimed the philosophic Gensbein.
He rose and shook himself, then looked
down at the beautiful but unimportant rivulet.
“I say, lads, were we as drunk
as all that last night? Was there an impassable
torrent here or not?”
“How could we be drunk, you
fool, on little more than a liter of wine each,”
cried Kurzbold.
“Please be more civil in your
talk,” returned his friend. “You were
drunk all day. The liter and a half was a mere
nightcap. If you are certain there was a torrent,
then I must have been in the same condition as yourself.”
The spokesman of the previous night,
who had been chided for not springing on Roland before
he succeeded in doing away with the treasure, here
uttered a shout.
“This water,” he said,
“is clear as air. You can see every pebble
at the bottom. Get to work, you sleepyheads,
and search down the stream. We’ll recover
that bag yet, and then it’s back to Sonnenberg
for breakfast. Whoever finds it, finds it for
the guild; a fair and equal division amongst us.
That is, amongst the eighteen of us. I propose
that Roland, Greusel, and Ebearhard do not share.
They were all in the plot to rob us.”
“Agreed!” cried the others,
and the treasure-hunt impetuously began.
Greusel and Ebearhard watched them
disappear through the forest down the stream.
“Greusel,” said Ebearhard,
“what a deplorable passion is the frantic quest
for money in these days, especially money that we have
not earned. Our excited treasure-hunters do not
realize that at such a moment in the early morning
the only subject worth consideration is breakfast.
Being unsparing and prodigal last night, it would
take a small miracle of the fishes to suffice them
to-day. There is barely enough for two hungry
men, and as we are rid of these chaps for half an hour
at least, I propose we sit down to our first meal.”
Greusel made no comment upon this
remark, but the advice commended itself to him, for
he followed it.
Some time after they had finished
breakfast, the unsuccessful company returned by twos
and threes. Apparently they had not wandered so
far as the waterfall, for no one said anything of
the amazing view of the Rhine. Indeed, it was
plain that they considered themselves involved in
a boundless wilderness, and were too perplexed to suggest
a way out. After a storm of malediction over
the breakfastless state of things, and a good deal
of quarreling among themselves anent who had been most
greedy the night before, they now turned their attention
to the silent men who were watching them.
“Where’s Roland?” they demanded.
“I don’t know,” replied Greusel.
“Didn’t he tell you where he was going?”
“We have not seen him this morning,”
explained Ebearhard gently. “He seems to
have disappeared in the night. Perhaps he fell
into the stream. Perhaps, on the other hand,
he has deliberately deserted us. He gave us no
hint of his intentions last night, and we are as ignorant
as yourselves regarding his whereabouts.”
“This is outrageous!”
cried Kurzbold. “It is the duty of a leader
to provide for his following.”
“Yes; if the following follows.”
“We have followed,” said
Kurzbold indignantly, “and have been led into
this desert, not in the least knowing where in Heaven’s
name we are. And now to be left like this, breakfastless,
thirsty ” Here Kurzbold’s language
failed him, and he drew the back of his hand across
parched lips.
“When you remember, gentlemen,”
continued Ebearhard, in accents of honey, “that
your last dealings with your leader took place with
eighteen swords drawn; when you recollect that you
expressed your determination to rob him, and when
you call to mind that you brave eighteen threatened
him with personal violence if he resisted this brigandage
on your part, I cannot understand why you should be
surprised at his withdrawal from your fellowship.”
“Oh, you always were a glib
talker, but the question now is what are we to do?”
“Yes, and that is a question
for you to decide,” said Ebearhard. “When
you mutinied last night, you practically deposed Roland
from the leadership. To my mind, he had no further
obligations towards you, so, having roughly taken
the power into your own hands, it is for you to deal
with it as you think best. I should never so far
forget myself as to venture even a suggestion.”
“As I hinted to you,”
said Kurzbold, “you are talking too much.
You are merely one of ourselves, although you have
kept yourself separate from us. Greusel has been
appointed lieutenant by our unanimous vote, and if
his chief proves a poltroon, he is the man to act.
Therefore, Joseph Greusel, I ask on behalf of the
company what you intend to do?”
“Before I can answer that question,”
replied Greusel, “I must know whether or not
you will act as you did yesterday?”
“What do you mean by that?”
Several, speaking together, put the question.
“I wish to know whether you
will follow cheerfully and without demur where I lead?
I refuse to act as guide if I run the risk of finding
eighteen sword-points at my throat when I have done
my best.”
“Oh, you talk like a fool,”
commented Kurzbold. “We followed Roland
faithfully enough until he brought us into this impasse.
You make entirely too much of last night’s episode.
None of us intended to hurt him, as you are very well
aware, and besides, we don’t want a leader who
is frightened, and runs away at the first sign of danger.”
“Make up your minds what you
propose to do,” said Greusel stubbornly, “and
give me your decision; then you will receive mine.”
Greusel saw that although Kurzbold
talked like the bully he was, the others were rather
subdued, and no voice but his was raised in defense
of their previous conduct.
“There is one thing you must
tell us before we can come to a decision,” went
on Kurzbold. “How much money have you and
Ebearhard?”
“At midday yesterday I had thirty
thalers, and Ebearhard had twenty-five.
While you were all sleeping on the grass, after our
meal at Breckenheim, Roland asked us for the money.”
“You surely were not such idiots as to give
it to him?”
“He was our commander, and we
both considered it right to do what he asked of us.”
“He said,” put in Ebearhard,
“that your suggestion about a finance committee
was a good one, and that he had determined to be that
committee. He asked us if any of you had money,
but I told him I thought it was all spent, which probably
accounts for his restricting the application to us
two.”
“Then we are here in an unknown
wilderness, twenty men, hungry, and without a florin
amongst us,” wailed Kurzbold, and the comments
of those behind him were painful to hear.
“I am glad that at last you
thoroughly appreciate our situation, and I hope that
in addition you realize it has been brought about not
through any fault of Roland’s, who gave in to
your whims and childishness until you came to the
point of murder and robbery. Therefore blame yourselves
and not him. You now know as much of our position
as I do, so make up your minds about the next step,
and inform me what conclusion you come to.”
“You’re a mighty courageous
leader,” cried Kurzbold scornfully, and with
this the hungry ones retired some distance into the
grove, from whence echoes of an angry debate came
to the two men who sat by the margin of the stream.
After a time they strode forward again. Once more
Kurzbold was the spokesman.
“We have determined to return to Frankfort.”
“Very good.”
“I suppose you remember enough
of the way to lead us at least as far as Wiesbaden.
Beyond that point we can look to ourselves.”
“I should be delighted,”
said Greusel, “to be your guide, but unfortunately
I am traveling in the other direction with Ebearhard.”
“Why, in the name of starvation?”
roared Kurzbold. “You know no more of the
country ahead of us than we do. By going back
we can get something to eat, and a drink, at one of
the farmhouses we passed this side of Sonnenberg.”
“How?” inquired Greusel.
“Why, if they ask for payment
we will give them iron instead of silver. No
man need starve with a sword by his side.”
“Granted that this is feasible,
and that the farmers yield instead of raising the
country-side against you, when you reach Frankfort
what are you going to do? Eat and drink with
the landlord of the Rheingold until he becomes bankrupt?
You must remember that it was Roland who liquidated
our last debt there, without asking or receiving a
word of thanks, and he did that not a moment too soon,
for the landlord was at the end of his resources and
would have closed his tavern within another week.”
Kurzbold stormed at this harping on
the subject of Roland and his generosity, but those
with him were hungry, and they now remembered, too
late, that what Greusel said was strictly true.
If Roland had put in an appearance then, he would
have found a most docile company to lead. They
were actually murmuring against Kurzbold, and blaming
him and his clan for the disaster that had overtaken
them.
“Why will you not come back
with us?” pleaded the penitents, with surprising
mildness.
“Because the future in Frankfort
strikes me as hopeless. Not one amongst us has
the brains of Roland, whom we have thrown out.
Besides, it is nine and a half long leagues to Frankfort,
and only three and a half leagues to Assmannshausen.
I expect to find Roland there, and although I know
nothing of his intentions, I imagine he has gone to
enlist a company of a score or thereabouts that will
obey his commands. There is some hope by going
forward to Assmannshausen; there is absolutely none
in retreating to Frankfort. Then, as I said, Assmannshausen
is little more than three leagues away; a fact worth
consideration by hungry men. On the Rhine we
are in the rich wine country, where there is plenty
to eat and drink, probably for the asking, whereas
if we turn our faces towards the east we are marching
upon starvation.”
The buzz of comment aroused by this
speech proved to the two men that Kurzbold stood once
more alone. Greusel, without seeming to care which
way the cat jumped, had induced that unreasoning animal
to leap as he liked. His air of supreme indifference
aroused Ebearhard’s admiration, especially when
he remembered that under his cloak there rested a
hundred and fifteen thalers in gold and silver.
“But you know nothing of the
way,” protested Kurzbold. “None of
us are acquainted with the country to the west.”
“We don’t need to be acquainted
with it,” said Greusel. “We steer
westward by glancing at the sun now and then, and cannot
go astray, because we must come to the Rhine; then
it’s either up or down the river, as the case
may be, to reach Assmannshausen.”
“To the Rhine! To the Rhine!” was
now the universal cry.
“Before we begin our journey,”
said Greusel, as if he accepted the leadership with
reluctance, “I must have your promise that you
will obey me without question. I am not so patient
a man as Roland, but on my part I guarantee you an
excellent meal and good wine as soon as we reach Assmannshausen.”
“How can you promise that,”
growled Kurzbold, “when you have given away
your money?”
“Because, as I told you, I expect to meet Roland
there.”
“But he threw away his bag.”
“Yes; I told him it was a foolish
thing to do, and perhaps that is why he left without
saying a word, even to me. He is an ingenious
man. Assmannshausen is familiar to him, and I
dare say he would not have discarded his money without
knowing where to get more.”
“To the Rhine! To the Rhine!
To the Rhine!” cried the impatient host, gathering
up their cloaks, and tightening their belts, as the
savage does when he is hungry.
“To the Rhine, then,”
said Greusel, springing across the little stream in
company with Ebearhard.
“You did that very well, Greusel,”
complimented the latter.
“I would rather have gone alone
with you,” replied the new leader, “for
I have condemned myself to wear this heavy cloak, which
is all very well to sleep in, but burdensome under
a hot sun.”
“The sun won’t be so oppressive,”
predicted his friend, “while we keep to the
forest.”
“That is very true, but remember
we are somewhere in the Rheingau, and that we must
come out into the vineyards by and by.”
“Don’t grumble, Greusel,
but hold up your head as a great diplomatist.
Roland himself could not have managed these chaps so
well, you flaunting hypocrite, the only capitalist
amongst us, yet talking as if you were a monk sworn
to eternal poverty.”
Greusel changed the subject.
“Do you notice,” he said,
“that we are following some sort of path, which
we must have trodden last evening, without seeing it
in the dusk.”
“I imagine,” said Ebearhard,
“that Roland knew very well where he was going.
He strode along ahead of us as if sure of his ground.
I don’t doubt but this will lead us to Assmannshausen.”
Which, it may be remarked, it did
not. The path was little more than a trail, which
a sharp-eyed man might follow, and it led up-hill and
down dale direct to the Archbishop’s Castle
of Ehrenfels.
The forest lasted for a distance that
the men in front estimated to be about two leagues,
then they emerged into open country, and saw the welcome
vines growing. Climbing out of the valley, they
observed to the right, near the top of a hill, a small
hamlet, which had the effect of instantaneously raising
the spirits of the woebegone company.
“Hooray for breakfast!”
they shouted, and had it not been for their own fatigue,
and the steepness of the hill, they would have broken
into a run.
“Halt!” cried Greusel
sternly, standing before and above them. At once
they obeyed the word of command, which caused Ebearhard
to smile.
“You will climb to the top of
this hill,” said Greusel, “and there rest
under command of my lieutenant, Ebearhard. As
we now emerge into civilization, I warn you that if
we are to obtain breakfast it must be by persuasion,
and not by force. Therefore, while you wait on
the hilltop, I shall go alone into the houses on the
right, and see what can be done towards providing
a meal for eighteen men. Ebearhard and I will
fast until we reach Assmannshausen. On the other
hand, you should be prepared for disappointment; loaves
of bread are not to be picked up on the point of a
sword. If I return and order you to march on unfed,
you must do so as cheerfully as you can.”
This ultimatum called forth not a
word of opposition, and Ebearhard led the van while
Greusel deflected up the hill to his right, the sooner
to reach the village.
He learned that the name of the place
was Anton-Kap; that the route he had been following
would take him to Ehrenfels, and that he must adopt
a reasonably rough mountain-road to the right in order
to reach Assmannshausen.
By somewhat straining the resources
of the place, which proved to possess no inn, he collected
bread enough for the eighteen, and there was no dearth
of wine, although it proved a coarse drink that reflected
little credit on the reputation of the Rheingau.
He paid for this meal in advance, saying that they
were all in a hurry to reach Assmannshausen, and wished
to leave as soon as the frugal breakfast was consumed.
Mounting a small elevation to the
west of the village, he signaled to the patient men
to come on, which they lost no time in doing.
The bread was eaten and the wine drunk without a word
being said by any one. And now they took their
way down the hill again, crossed the little Geisenheim
stream, and up once more, traversing a high table-land
giving them a view of the Rhine, finally descending
through another valley, which led them into Assmannshausen,
celebrated for its red wine, a color they had not
yet met with.
Assmannshausen proved to be a city
as compared with the hamlets they had passed, yet
was small enough to make a thorough search of the place
a matter that consumed neither much effort nor time.
Greusel led his men to a Weinstaube a short
distance out of the village, and, to their delight,
succeeded in establishing a credit for them to the
extent of one liter of wine each, with a substantial
meal of meat, eggs, and what-not. Greusel and
Ebearhard left them there in the height of great enjoyment,
all the more delightful after the hunger and fatigue
they had encountered, for the three and a half leagues
had proved almost without a single stretch of level
land. The two officers inquired for Roland, without
success, at the various houses of entertainment which
Assmannshausen boasted, then canvassed every home in
the village, but no one had seen anything of the man
they described.
Coming out to the river front, deeply
discouraged, the two gazed across the empty water,
from which all enlivening traffic had departed.
It was now evident to both that Roland had not entered
Assmannshausen, for in so small and gossipy a hamlet
no stranger could even have passed through without
being observed.
“Well, Joseph,” asked
Ebearhard, “what do you intend to do?”
“There is nothing to do but
to wait until our money is gone. It is absolutely
certain that Roland is not here. Can it be possible
that after all he returned?”
“How could he have done so?
We know him to have been without money; therefore
why to Frankfort, even if such a trip were possible
for a penniless man?”
“I am sorry now,” said
Greusel despondently, “that I did not follow
a suggestion that occurred to me, which was to take
the men direct down the valley where we encamped,
to the banks of the Rhine, and there make inquiries.”
“You think he went that way?”
“I did, until you persuaded me out of it.”
“Again I ask what could be his object?”
“It seems to me that this mutiny
made a greater impression on his mind than I had supposed.
After all, he is not one of us, and never has been.
You yourself pointed that out when we were talking
of him at Breckenheim. If you caught glances
of contempt for us while we were all one jolly family
in the Kaiser cellar, what must be his loathing for
the guild after such a day as yesterday?”
“That’s true. You
must travel with a man before you learn his real character.”
“Meaning Roland?”
“Meaning this crew, guzzling
up at the tavern. Meaning you, meaning me; yes,
and meaning Roland also. I never knew until yesterday
and to-day what a capable fellow you were, and when
I remember that I nominated Kurzbold for our leader
before Roland appeared on the scene, I am amazed at
my lack of judgment of men. As for Roland himself,
my opinion of him has fallen. Nothing could have
persuaded me that he would desert us all without a
word of explanation, no matter what happened.
My predictions regarding his conduct are evidently
wrong. What do you think has actually occurred?”
“It’s my opinion that
the more he thought over the mutiny, the angrier he
became; a cold, stubborn anger, not vocal at all, as
Kurzbold’s would be. I think that after
fastening the money to my belt he went down the valley
to the Rhine. He knows the country, you must remember.
He would then either wait there until the barge appeared,
or more likely would proceed up along the margin of
the river, and hail the boat when it came in sight.
The captain would recognize him, and turn in, and we
know the captain is under his command. At this
moment they are doubtless poling slowly up the Rhine
to the Main again, and will thus reach Frankfort.
Herr Goebel has confidence in Roland, otherwise he
would never have risked so much on his bare word.
He will confess to his financier that he has been
mistaken in us, and doubtless tell him all that happened,
and the merchant will appreciate that, even though
he has lost his five hundred thalers, Roland
would not permit him to lose his goods as well.”
“Do you suppose Roland will enlist another company?”
“It is very likely, for Herr
Goebel trusts him, and, goodness knows, there are
enough unemployed men in Frankfort for Roland to select
a better score than we have proved to be.”
It was quite certain that Roland was
not in Assmannshausen, yet Greusel was a prophet as
false as Ebearhard.