THE LAUGHING RED MARGRAVE OF FURSTENBERG
Ebearhard laughed, and took two steps
forward. Whenever affairs became serious, one
could always depend on a laugh from Ebearhard.
“Excuse me, Commander,”
he said, “but you placed Greusel and me in charge
of this pious and sober party; therefore I, being the
least of your officers, must stand the first brunt
of our failure to keep these lambs peaceable for the
night. Greusel, stand behind me, and in front
of the Commander. I, being reasonably sober,
believe I can cut down six of the innocents before
they finish with me. You will attend to the next
six, leaving exactly half a dozen for Roland to eliminate
in his own fashion. Now, Herr Conrad Kurzbold,
come on.”
“We have no quarrel with you,”
said Kurzbold. “Stand aside.”
“But I force a quarrel upon
you, undisciplined pig. Defend yourself, for,
by the Three Kings, I am going to tap your walking
wine-barrel!”
Kurzbold, however, retreating with
more haste than caution, one or two behind him were
sent sprawling, and the half-dozen which were Roland’s
portion tumbled over one another down the steep ladder
into the cabin.
Ebearhard laughed again when the last man disappeared.
“I think,” he said to
Roland, “that you will meet no further trouble
from our friends. They evidently broke open the
lockers, alarmed because Greusel and I asked for a
postponement of the counting, probably intending to
make the division without our assistance.”
“Have you hidden the money?” asked Greusel.
“Not exactly,” replied
Roland; “but, in case anything should happen
to me, I will tell you what I have done with it.”
When he finished his recital, he added:
“I will give each of you a letter
to Herr Goebel, identifying you. He is entitled
to four thousand five hundred thalers of the money.
The balance you will divide among those of us who
survive.”
Roland slept on deck, wrapped in his
cloak. His two lieutenants took turn in keeping
watch, but nothing except snores came up from the cabin.
The mutineers were not examples of early rising next
morning. The sun gave promise of another warm
day, and Roland walked up and down the deck, anxiety
printed on his brow. He had made up his mind to
knock at the door of the Laughing Baron, a giant in
stature, reported to be the most ingenious, most cruel,
and bravest of all the robber noblemen of the Rhine,
whose Castle was notoriously the hardest nut to crack
along the banks of that famous river. For several
reasons it would not be wise to linger much longer
in the neighborhood of Lorch. The three castles
they had entered the day before were still visible
on the western bank. News of the raid would undoubtedly
travel to Furstenberg, also within sight down the
river, and thus the hilarious Margrave would be put
on his guard, overjoyed at the opportunity of trapping
the moral marauders. Furstenberg was also a fief
of Cologne, and any molestation of it would involve
the meddler, if identified, in complications with the
Church and the Archbishop.
It was necessary, therefore, to move
with caution, and to retreat, if possible, unobserved.
These difficulties alone were enough to give pause
to the most intrepid, but Roland was further handicapped
by his own following. How could he hope to accomplish
any subtle movement requiring silence, prompt obedience,
and great alertness, supported by men whose brains
were muddled with drink, and whose conduct was saturated
with conspiracy against him? They had wine enough
on board to continue their orgy, and he was quite
unable to prevent their carouse. With a deep sigh
he realized that he would be compelled to forego Furstenberg,
and thus leave behind him a virgin citadel, which
he knew was bad tactics from a military point of view.
During his meditations his men were
coming up from the fuming cabin into the fresh air
and the sunlight. They appeared by twos and threes,
yawning and rubbing their eyes, but no one ventured
to interrupt the leader as, with bent head, he paced
back and forth on the deck. The men, indeed,
seemed exceedingly subdued. They passed with almost
overdone nonchalance from the boat to the island,
and sauntered towards its lower end, from which, in
the clear morning air, the grim fortress of Furstenberg
could be plainly discerned diagonally across the river.
It was Ebearhard who broke in upon Roland’s
reverie.
“Our friends appear very quiet
this morning, but I observe they have all happened
to coincide upon the northern part of the island as
a rendezvous for their before-breakfast walk.
I surmise they are holding a formal meeting of the
guild, but neither Greusel nor I have been invited,
so I suppose that after last night’s display
we two are no longer considered their brethren.
This meekness on their part seems to me more dangerous
than last night’s flurry. I think they will
demand from you a knowledge of what has been done
with the gold. Have you decided upon your answer?”
“Yes; it is their right to know,
so I shall tell them the truth. By this time
Kruger is on his way somewhere between Ehrenfels and
Wiesbaden. He will reach Frankfort to-night,
and cannot be overtaken.”
“Is there not danger that they
will desert in a body, return to Frankfort, and demand
from Herr Goebel their share of the spoil?”
“No matter for that,”
returned Roland. “Goebel will not part with
a florin except under security of such letters as
I purpose giving you and Greusel, and even then only
when you have proven to him that I am dead.”
“That is all very well,”
demurred Ebearhard, “but don’t you see
what a dangerous power you put into the hands of the
rebels? Goebel is merely a merchant, and, though
rich, politically powerless. He has already come
into conflict with the authorities, and spent a term
in prison. Do not forget that the Archbishops
have refused to take action against these robber Barons.
Our men, if there happen to be one of brains among
them, can easily terrify Goebel into parting with
the treasure by threatening to confess their own and
his complicity in the raids. Consider what an
excellent case they can put forward, stating quite
truly that they joined this expedition in ignorance
of its purport, but on the very first day, learning
what was afoot, they deserted their criminal leader,
and are now endeavoring to make restitution. Goebel
is helpless. If he says that they first demanded
the gold from him, they as strenuously deny it, and
their denial must be believed, because they come of
their own free-will to the authorities. The merchant,
already tainted with treason, having suffered imprisonment,
and narrowly escaped hanging, proves on investigation
to be up to the neck in this affair. There is
no difficulty in learning that his barge went down
the river, manned by a crew of his own choosing.
Of course, it need never come to this, because Goebel,
being a shrewd man, could at once see in what jeopardy
he stood, and convinced from the men’s own story
that they were part, at least, of your contingent,
would deliver up the treasure to them. Don’t
you see he must do so to save his own neck?”
Roland pondered deeply on what had
been said to him, but for the moment made no reply.
Greusel, who joined them during the conversation,
remaining silent until Ebearhard had finished, now
spoke:
“I quite agree with all that has been said.”
“What, then, would you advise me to do?”
asked Roland.
“I have been talking with one
or two of the men,” said Greusel. “(They
won’t speak to Ebearhard because he drew his
sword on them.) I find they believe you took advantage
of their absence to bury the gold in what you suppose
to be a safe place. They are sure you are acquainted
with no one in Lorch to whom you could safely entrust
it, and of course do not suspect an emissary from
Frankfort. I should advise you to say that arrangements
have been made for every man to get his share so long
as nothing untoward happens to you. This will
preserve your life should they go so far as to threaten
it, and compel them to stay on with us. After
all, we are merely artisans, and not fighting men.
I am convinced that if ever we are really attacked,
we shall make a very poor showing, even though we
carry swords. Remember how the men tumbled over
one another in their haste to get out of reach when
Ebearhard flourished his blade.”
“I think Greusel’s suggestion is an excellent
one,” put in Ebearhard.
“Very well,” said Roland,
“I shall adopt it, although I had made up my
mind fully to enlighten them.”
“There is one more matter that
I should like to speak to you about,” continued
Ebearhard. “Both at Assmannshausen, and
at Lorch last night, we heard a good deal anent Furstenberg.
It is the most dangerous castle on the Rhine to meddle
with. The Laughing Baron, as they call him, although
he is a Margrave, is the only man who dared to stop
a king on his way down the Rhine, and hold him for
ransom.”
“Yes,” said Roland; “Adolf
of Nassau, on his way to be crowned at Aix-la-Chapelle.”
“Quite so. Well, this huge
ruffian I never can remember his name; can
you, Greusel?”
“No, it beats me.”
“Margrave Hermann von Katznellenbogenstahleck,”
said Roland, so solemnly that Ebearhard laughed and
even Greusel smiled.
“That’s the individual,”
agreed Ebearhard, “and you must admit the name
itself is a formidable thing to attack, even without
the giant it belongs to.”
“Banish all apprehension,”
said Roland. “I have already decided to
remain here through the day, and drop quietly down
the river to-night in the darkness past Furstenberg.”
“I think that is a wise decision,” said
Ebearhard.
“’Tis against all military
rules,” demurred Roland, “but nevertheless
with such an army as I lead it seems the only way.
Do the men know that Furstenberg is our point of greatest
danger?”
“Yes; but they do not know so
much as I. Last night I left them in Greusel’s
charge, being alarmed about what I heard of Furstenberg,
and engaged a boatman to take me over there before
the moon rose. I discovered that the Laughing
Baron has caused a chain to be buoyed up just below
the surface of the water, running diagonally up the
river more than half-way across it, so that any boat
coming down is caught and drawn into the landing,
for the main flood of the Rhine, as you know, runs
to the westward of this island. The boatman who
ferried me knew about this chain, but thought it had
been abandoned since traffic stopped. He says
it runs right up into the Castle, and the moment a
barge strikes against it, a big bell is automatically
rung inside the stronghold, causing the Baron to laugh
so loudly that they sometimes hear him over in Lorch.”
“This is very interesting, Ebearhard,
and an excellent feat of scouting must be set down
to your credit. Say nothing to the men, because,
although we give Furstenberg the go-by on this occasion,
I shall pay my respects to Herman von Katznellenbogenstahleck
on my return, and the knowledge you bring me will
prove useful.”
“Ha!” cried Greusel, “here
are our infants returning, all in a body, Kurzbold
at their head as usual. I imagine this morning
they are going to depend on rhetoric, and allow their
swords to remain in scabbard. They have evidently
come to some momentous decision.”
The three retired to the prow of the
boat as the guild clambored on at the stern.
The captain and two of his men had taken the skiff
belonging to the barge, and were absent at Lorch,
purchasing provisions. Roland stood at the prow
of the barge, slightly in advance of his two lieutenants,
and awaited the approach of Kurzbold, with seventeen
men behind him.
“Commander,” said the
spokesman, with nothing of the late truculence in
his tone, “we have just held a meeting of the
guild, and unanimously agreed to ask you one question,
and offer you one suggestion.”
“I shall be pleased,”
replied Roland, “to answer the first if I think
it desirable, and take the second into consideration.”
He inclined his head to the delegation,
and received a low bow in return. This was a
most auspicious beginning, showing a certain improvement
of method on the part of the majority.
“The question is, Commander,
what have you done with the gold we captured yesterday?”
“A very proper inquiry,”
replied Roland, “that it gives me much pleasure
to answer. I have placed the money in a custody
which I believe to be absolute, arranging that if
nothing happens to me, this money shall be properly
divided in my presence.”
“Do you deny, sir, that the money belongs to
us?”
“Part of it undoubtedly does,
but I, as leader of the expedition, am morally, if
not legally, responsible to you all for its safe keeping.
Our barge has stopped three times so far, and Captain
Blumenfels tells me that he has had no real violence
to complain of, but as we progress farther down the
river, we are bound to encounter some Baron who is
not so punctilious; for instance, the Margrave von
Katznellenbogenstahleck, whose stronghold you doubtless
saw from the latest meeting-place of the guild.
Such a man as the Margrave is certain to do what you
yourselves did without hesitation last night, that
is, break open the lockers, and if gold were there
you may depend it would not long remain in our possession
after the discovery.”
“You miss, or rather, evade
the point, Commander. Is the gold ours, or is
it yours?”
“I have admitted that part of it is yours.”
“Then by what right do you assert
the power to deal with it, lacking our consent?
If you will pardon me for saying so, you, the youngest
of our company, treat the rest of us as though we
were children.”
“If I possessed a child that
acted at once so obstreperously and in so cowardly
a manner as you did last night, I should cut a stick
from the forest here, and thrash him with such severity
that he would never forget it. As I have not
done this to you, I deny that I treat you like children.
The truth is that, although the youngest, I am your
commander. We are engaged in acts of war, therefore
military law prevails, and not the code of Justinian.
It is my duty to protect your treasure and my own,
and ensure that each man shall receive his share.
After the division you may do what you please with
the money, for you will then be under the common law,
and I should not presume even to advise concerning
its disposal.”
“You refuse to tell us, then,
what you have done with the gold?”
“I do. Now proceed with your suggestion.”
“I fear I put the case too mildly
when I called it a suggestion, considering the unsatisfactory
nature of your reply to my question, therefore I withdraw
the word ‘suggestion,’ and substitute the
word ‘command.’”
Kurzbold paused, to give his ultimatum
the greater force. Behind him rose a murmur of
approval.
“Words do not matter in the
least. I deal with deeds. Out, then, with
your command!” cried Roland, for the first time
exhibiting impatience.
“The command unanimously adopted
is this: the Castle of Furstenberg must be left
alone. We know more of that Castle than you do,
especially about its owner and his garrison.
We have been gathering information as we journeyed,
and have not remained sulking in the barge.”
“Well, that is encouraging news
to hear,” said Roland. “I thought
you were engaged in sampling wine.”
“You hear the command. Will you obey?”
“I will not,” said Roland decisively.
Ebearhard took a step forward to the
side of his chief, and glanced at him reproachfully.
Greusel remained where he was, but neither man spoke.
“You intend to attack Furstenberg?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
Kurzbold turned to his following:
“Brethren,” he said, “you
have heard this conversation, and it needs no comment
from me.”
Apparently the discussion was to receive
no comment from the others either. They stood
there glum and disconcerted, as if the trend of affairs
had taken an unexpected turn.
“I think,” said one, “we had better
retire and consult again.”
This was unanimously agreed to, and
once more they disembarked upon the island, and moved
forward to their Witenagemot. Still Greusel and
Ebearhard said nothing, but watched the men disappear
through the trees. Roland looked at one after
another with a smile.
“I see,” he said, “that you disapprove
of my conduct.”
Greusel remained silent, but Ebearhard laughed and
spoke.
“You came deliberately to the
conclusion that it was unwise to attack Furstenberg.
Now, because of Kurzbold’s lack of courtesy,
you deflect from your own mature judgment, and hastily
jump into a course opposite to that which you marked
out for yourself after sober, unbiased thought.”
“My dear Ebearhard, the duty
of a commander is to give, and not to receive, commands.”
“Quite so. Command and
suggestion are merely words, as you yourself pointed
out, saying that they did not matter.”
“In that, Ebearhard, I was wrong.
Words do matter, although Kurzbold wasn’t clever
enough to correct me. For example, I hold no man
in higher esteem than yourself, yet you might use
words that would cause me instantly to draw my sword
upon you, and fight until one or other of us succumbed.”
Ebearhard laughed.
“You put it very flatteringly,
Roland. Truth is, you’d fight till I succumbed,
my swordsmanship being no match for yours. I shall
say the words, however, that will cause you to draw
your sword, and they are: Commander, I will stand
by you whatever you do.”
“And I,” said Greusel curtly.
Roland shook hands in turn with the two men.
“Right,” he cried.
“If we are fated to go down, we will fall with
banners flying.”
After a time the captain returned
with his supplies, but still the majority of the guild
remained engaged in deliberation. Evidently discussion
was not proceeding with that unanimity which Kurzbold
always insisted was the case.
At noon Roland requested the captain
to send some of his men with a meal for those in prolonged
session, and also to carry them a cask which had been
half-emptied either that morning or the night before.
“They will enjoy a picnic under
the trees by the margin of the river,” said
Roland, as he and his two backers sat down in the empty
cabin to their own repast.
“Do you think they are purposely
delaying, so that you cannot cross over this afternoon?”
“’Tis very likely,”
said Roland. “I’ll wait here until
the sun sets, and then when they realize that I am
about to leave them on an uninhabited island, without
anything to eat, I think you will see them scramble
aboard.”
“But suppose they don’t,”
suggested Greusel. “There are at least three
of them able to swim across this narrow branch of the
Rhine, and engage a boatman to take them off, should
their signaling be unobserved.”
“Again no matter. My plan
for the undoing of the castles does not depend on
force, but on craft. We three cannot carry away
as much gold as can twenty-one, but our shares will
be the same, and then we are not likely to find again
so full a treasury as that at Rheinstein. My belief
that these chaps would fight was dispelled by their
conduct last night. Think of eighteen armed men
flying before one sword!”
“Ah, you are scarce just in
your estimate, Commander. They were under the
influence of wine.”
“True; but a brave man will fight, drunk or
sober.”
Although the sun sank out of sight,
the men did not return. There had been more wine
in the cask than Roland supposed, for the cheery songs
of the guild echoed through the sylvan solitude.
Roland told the captain to set his men at work and
row round the top of the island into the main stream
of the Rhine. The revelers had evidently appointed
watchmen, for they speedily came running through the
woods, and followed the movements of the boat from
the shore, keeping pace with it. When the craft
reached the opposite side of the island, the rowers
drew in to the beach.
“Are you coming aboard?” asked Roland
pleasantly.
“Will you agree to pass Furstenberg
during the night?” demanded Kurzbold.
“No.”
“Do you expect to succeed, as you did with the
other castles?”
“Certainly; otherwise I shouldn’t make
the attempt.”
“I was wrong,” said Kurzbold
mildly, “in substituting the word ‘command’
for ‘suggestion,’ which I first employed.
There are many grave reasons for deferring an attempt
on Furstenberg. In the heat of argument these
reasons were not presented to you. Will you consent
to listen to them if we go on board?”
“Yes; if you, on your part,
will unanimously promise to abide by my decision.”
“Do you think,” said Kurzbold,
“that your prejudice against me, which perhaps
you agree does exist ”
“It exists,” confessed Roland.
“Very well. Will you allow
that prejudice to prevent you from rendering a decision
in the men’s favor?”
“No. If they present reasons
that convince Greusel and Ebearhard against the attack
on Furstenberg, I shall do what these two men advise,
even although I myself believe in a contrary course.
Thus you see, Herr Kurzbold, that my admitted dislike
of you shall not come into play at all.”
“That is quite satisfactory,”
said Kurzbold. “Will you tie up against
the farther shore until your decision is rendered?”
“With pleasure,” replied
Roland; and accordingly the raiders tumbled impetuously
on board the barge, whereupon the sailors bent to their
long oars, and quickly reached the western bank, at
a picturesque spot out of sight of any castle, where
the trees came down the mountain-side to the water’s
edge. Here the sailors, springing ashore, tied
their stout ropes to the tree-trunks, and the great
barge lay broadside on to the land, with her nose
pointing down the stream.
“You see,” said Roland
to his lieutenants, “without giving way in the
least I allow you two the decision, and so I take it
Furstenberg or ourselves will escape disaster on this
occasion.”
“Aside from all other considerations,”
replied the cautious Greusel, “I think it good
diplomacy on this occasion to agree with the men, since
they have stated their case so deferentially.
They are improving, Commander.”
“It really looks like it,”
he agreed. “You and Ebearhard had better
go aft, and counsel them to begin the conference at
once, for if we are to attack we must do so before
darkness sets in. I’ll remain here as usual
at the prow.”
Some of the men were strolling about
the deck, but the majority remained in the cabin,
down whose steps the lieutenants descended. Roland’s
impatience increased with the waning of the light.
Suddenly a cry that was instantly
smothered rose from the cabin, then a shout:
“Treachery! Look out for yourself!”
Roland attempted to stride forward,
but four men fell on him, pinioning his arms to his
side, preventing the drawing of his weapon. Kurzbold,
with half a dozen others, mounted on deck.
“Disarm him!” he commanded,
and one of the men drew Roland’s sword from
its sheath, flinging it along the deck to Kurzbold’s
feet. The others now came up, bringing the two
lieutenants, both gagged, with their arms tied behind
them. Roland ceased his struggles, which he knew
to be fruitless.
“We wish an amicable settlement
of this matter,” said Kurzbold, addressing the
lieutenants, “and regret being compelled to use
measures that may appear harsh. I do this only
to prevent unnecessary bloodshed. Earlier in
the day,” he continued, turning to Roland, “when
we found all appeals to you were vain, we unanimously
deposed you from the leadership, which is our right,
and also our duty.”
“Not under martial law,” said Roland.
“I beg to point out that there
was no talk of martial law before we left Frankfort.
It was not till later that we learned we had appointed
an unreasoning tyrant over us. We have deposed
him, and I am elected in his place, with John Gensbein
as my lieutenant. We will keep you three here
until complete darkness sets in, then put you ashore
unarmed. Bacharach, on this side of the Rhine,
is to be our next resting-place, and doubtless so
clever a man as you, Roland, may say that we choose
Bacharach because it is named for Bacchus, the god
of drunkards. Nevertheless, to show our good
intentions towards you, we will remain there all day
to-morrow. You can easily reach Bacharach along
the hilltops before daybreak. We have written
a charter of comradeship which all have signed except
yourselves. If at Bacharach you give us your word
to act faithfully under my leadership, we will reinstate
you in the guild, and return your swords. By
way of recompense for this leniency, we ask you to
direct the captain to obey my commands as he has done
yours.”
“Captain Blumenfels,”
said Roland to the honest sailor, who stood looking
on in amaze at this turn of affairs, “you are
to wait here until it is completely dark. See
that no lights are burning to give warning to those
in Furstenberg; and, by the way,” added Roland,
turning to his former company, “I advise you
not to drink anything until you are well past the
Castle. If you sing the songs of the guild within
earshot of Furstenberg, you are like to sing on the
other side of your mouths before morning. Don’t
forget that Margrave Hermann von Katznellenbogenstahleck
is the chief hangman of Germany.” Then once
more to the captain:
“As the Castle of Furstenberg
stands high above the river, and well back from it,
you will be out of sight if you keep near this shore.
However, you can easily judge your distance, because
the towers are visible even in the darkness against
the sky. No man on the ramparts of the Castle
can discern you down here on the black surface of the
water, so long as you do not carry a light.”
“Roland, my deposed friend,”
said Kurzbold, “I fear you bear resentment,
for you are giving the captain orders instead of telling
him to obey mine.”
“Kurzbold, you are mistaken.
I resign command with great pleasure, and, indeed,
Greusel and Ebearhard will testify that I had already
determined to pass Furstenberg unseen. As my
former lieutenants are disarmed, surely the company,
with eighteen swords, is not so frightened as to keep
them gagged and bound. ’Tis no wonder you
wish to avoid the Laughing Baron, if that is all the
courage you possess.”
Stung by these taunts, Kurzbold gruffly
ordered his men to release their prisoners, but when
the gags were removed, and before the cords were cut,
he addressed the lieutenants:
“Do you give me your words not
to make any further resistance, if I permit you to
remain unbound?”
“I give you my word on nothing,
you mutinous dog!” cried Greusel; “and
if I did, how could you expect me to keep it after
such an example of treachery from you who pledged
your faith, and then broke it? I shall obey my
Commander, and none other.”
“I am your Commander,” asserted Kurzbold.
“You are not,” proclaimed Greusel.
Ebearhard laughed.
“No need to question me,” he said.
“I stand by my colleagues.”
“Gag them again,” ordered Kurzbold.
“No, no!” cried Roland.
“We are quite helpless. Give your words,
gentlemen.”
Gloomily Greusel obeyed, and merrily
Ebearhard. Darkness was now gathering, and when
it fell completely the three men were put off into
the forest.
“You have not yet,” said
Kurzbold to Roland, “ordered the captain to
obey me. I do not object to that, but it will
be the worse for him and his men if they refuse to
accept my instructions.”
“Do you know this district,
Captain Blumenfels?” asked Roland.
“Yes, mein Herr.”
“Is there a path along the top
that will lead us behind Furstenberg on to Bacharach?”
“Yes, mein Herr, but it is a very rough
track.”
“Is it too far for you to guide
us there, and return before the moon rises?”
“Oh no, mein Herr, I can
conduct you to the trail in half an hour if you consent
to climb lustily.”
“Very good. Herr Kurzbold,
if you are not impatient to be off, and will permit
the captain to direct us on our way, I will tell him
to obey you.”
“How long before you can return,
captain?” asked Kurzbold.
“I can be back well within the hour, mein
Herr.”
“You will obey me if the late Commander orders
you to do so?”
“Yes, mein Herr.”
“Captain,” said Roland,
“I inform you in the hearing of these men that
Herr Kurzbold occupies my place, and is to be obeyed
by you until I resume command.”
Kurzbold laughed.
“You mean until you are re-elected
to membership in the guild, for we do not propose
to make you commander again. Now, captain, to
the hill, and see that your return is not delayed.”
The four men disappeared into the dark forest.
“Captain,” said Roland,
when they reached the track, “I have taken you
up here not that I needed your guidance, for I know
this land as well as you do. You will obey Kurzbold,
of course, but if he tells you to make for Lorch,
allow your boat to drift, and do not get beyond the
middle of the river until opposite Furstenberg.
There is a buoyed chain ”
“I know it well,” interrupted
the captain. “I have many times avoided
it, but twice became entangled with it, in spite of
all my efforts, and was robbed by the Laughing Baron.”
“Very well; I intend you to
be entrapped by that chain to-night. Offer no
resistance, and you will be safe enough. Do not
attempt to help these lads should they be set upon,
and it will be hard luck if I am not in command again
before midnight. Keep close to this shore, but
if they order you into the middle of the river, or
across it, dally, my good Blumenfels, dally, until
you are stopped by the chain for the third time.”
When the captain returned to his barge,
he found Kurzbold pacing the deck in a masterly manner,
impatient to be off. For once the combatants,
with an effort, were refraining from drink.
“We will open a cask,”
said Kurzbold, “as soon as we have passed the
Schloss.”
He ordered the captain to follow the
shore as closely as was safe, and take care that they
did not come within sight of Furstenberg’s tall,
round tower. All sat or reclined on the dark deck,
saying no word as the barge slid silently down the
swift Rhine. Suddenly the speed of the boat was
checked so abruptly that one or two of the standing
men were flung off their feet. From up on the
hillside there tolled out the deep note of a bell.
The barge swung round broadside on the current, and
lay there with the water rushing like hissing serpents
along its side, the bell pealing out a loud alarm
that seemed to keep time with the shuddering of the
helpless boat.
“What’s wrong, captain?”
cried Kurzbold, getting on his feet again and running
aft.
“I fear, sir, ’tis an anchored chain.”
“Can’t you cut it?”
“That is impossible, mein Herr.”
“Then get out your sweeps, and turn back.
Where are we, do you think?”
“Under the battlements of Furstenberg Castle.”
“Damnation! Put some speed
into your men, and let us get away from here.”
The captain ordered his crew to hurry,
but all their efforts could not release the boat from
the chain, against which it ground up and down with
a tearing noise, and even the un-nautical swordsmen
saw that the current was impelling it diagonally toward
the shore, and all the while the deep bell tolled
on.
“What in the fiend’s name
is the meaning of that bell?” demanded Kurzbold.
“It is the Castle bell, mein Herr,”
replied the captain.
Before Kurzbold could say anything
more the air quivered with shout after shout of laughter.
Torches began to glisten among the trees, and there
was a clatter of horses’ hoofs on the echoing
rock. A more magnificent sight was never before
presented to the startled eyes of so unappreciative
a crowd. Along the zigzag road, and among the
trees, spluttered the torches, each with a trail of
sparks like the tail of a comet. The bearers
were rushing headlong down the slope, for woe to the
man who did not arrive at the water’s edge sooner
than his master.
The torchlight gleamed on flashing
swords and glittering points of spears, but chief
sight of all was the Margrave Hermann von Katznellenbogenstahleck,
a giant in stature, mounted on a magnificent stallion,
as black as the night, and of a size that corresponded
with its prodigious rider. The Margrave’s
long beard and flowing hair were red; scarlet, one
may say, but perhaps that was the fiery reflection
from the torches. Servants, scullions, stablemen
carried the lights; the men-at-arms had no encumbrance
but their weapons, and the business-like way in which
they lined up along the shore was a study in discipline,
and a terror to any one unused to war. Above all
the din and clash of arms rang the hearty, stentorian
laughter of the Red Margrave actually echoing back
in gusts of fiendish merriment from the hills on the
other side of the Rhine.
Now the boat’s nose came dully
against the ledge of rock, to whose surface the swaying
chain rose dripping from the water, sparkling like
a jointed snake under the torchlight.
“God save us all!” cried
the Margrave, “what rare show have we here?
By my sainted patron, the Archbishop, merchants under
arms! Whoever saw the like? Ha! stout Captain
Blumenfels, do I recognize you? Once more my
chain has caught you. This makes the third time,
does it not, Blumenfels?”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“You may as well call me ‘your
Holiness’ as ‘your Majesty.’
I’m contented with my title, the ‘Laughing
Baron,’ Haw-haw-haw-haw! And so your merchants
have taken to arms again? The lesson at the Lorely
taught them nothing! Are there any ropes aboard,
captain?”
“Plenty, my lord.”
“Then fling a coil ashore.
Now, my tigers,” he roared to his men-at-arms,
“hale me to land those damned shopkeepers.”
With a clash of armor and weapons
the brigands threw themselves on the boat, and in
less time than is taken to tell it, every man of the
guild was disarmed and flung ashore. Here another
command of the Red Margrave gave them the outlaw’s
knot, as he termed it, a most painful tying-up of
the body and the limbs until each victim was rigid
as a red of iron. They were flung face downwards
in a row, and beaten black and blue with cudgels,
despite their screams of agony and appeals for mercy.
“Now turn them over on their
backs,” commanded the Margrave, and it was done.
The glare of the pitiless torches fell upon contorted
faces. The Baron turned his horse athwart the
line of helpless men, and spurred that animal over
it from end to end, but the intelligent horse, more
merciful than its rider, stepped with great daintiness,
despite its unusual size, and never trod on one of
the prostrate bodies. During what followed, the
Red Baron, shaking with laughter, marched his horse
up and down over the stricken men.
“Now, unload the boat, but do
not injure any of the sailors! I hope to see
them often again. You cannot tell how we have
missed you, captain. What are you loaded with
this time? Sound Frankfort cloth?”
“Yes, your Majesty I mean, my lord.”
“No, you mean my Holiness, for
I expect to be an Archbishop yet, if all goes well,”
and his laughter echoed across the Rhine. “Uplift
your hatches, Blumenfels, and tell your men to help
fling the goods ashore.”
Delicately paced the fearful horse
over the prone men, snorting, perhaps in sympathy,
from his red nostrils, his jet-black coat a-quiver
with the excitement of the scene. The captain
obeyed the Margrave with promptness and celerity.
The hatches were lifted, and his sailors, two and two,
flung on the ledge of rock the merchant’s bales.
The men-at-arms, who proved to be men-of-all-work,
had piled their weapons in a heap, and were carrying
the bales a few yards inland. Through it all the
Baron roared with laughter, and rode his horse along
its living pavement, turning now at this end and now
at the other.
“Do not be impatient,”
he cried down to them, “’twill not take
long to strip the boat of every bale, then I shall
hang you on these trees, and send back your bodies
in the barge, as a lesson to Frankfort. You must
return, captain,” he cried, “for you cannot
sell dead bodies to my liege of Cologne.”
As he spoke a ruddy flush spread over
the Rhine, as if some one had flashed a red lantern
upon the waters. The glow died out upon the instant.
“What!” thundered the
Margrave, “is that the reflection of my beard,
or are Beelzebub and his fiends coming up from below
for a portion of the Frankfort cloth? I will
share with good brother Satan, but with no one else.
Boil me if I ever saw a sight like that before!
What was it, captain?”
“I saw nothing unusual, my lord.”
“There, there!” exclaimed
the Margrave, and as he spoke it seemed that a crimson
film had fallen on the river, growing brighter and
brighter.
“Oh, my lord,” cried the
captain, “the Castle is on fire!”
“Saints protect us!” shouted
the Red Margrave, crossing himself, and turning to
the west, where now both hearing and sight indicated
that a furnace was roaring. The whole western
sky was aglow, and although the flames could not be
seen for the intervening cliff, every one knew there
was no other dwelling that could cause such an illumination.
Spurring his horse, and calling his
men to come on, the nobleman dashed up the steep acclivity,
and when the last man had departed, Roland, followed
by his two lieutenants, stepped from the forest to
the right down upon the rocky plateau.