“A SENTENCE; COME, PREPARE!”
“Captain,” said Roland
quietly, “bring your crew ashore, and fling these
bales on board again as quickly as you can.”
An instant later the sailors were
at work, undoing their former efforts.
“In mercy’s name, Roland,”
wailed one of the stricken, “get a sword and
cut our bonds.”
“All in good time,” replied
Roland. “The bales are more valuable to
me than you are, and we have two barrels of gold at
the foot of the cliff to bring in, if they haven’t
sunk in the Rhine. Greusel, do you and Ebearhard
take two of the crew, launch the small boat, and rescue
the barrels if you can find them.”
“Mercy on us, Roland! Mercy!” moaned
his former comrades.
“I have already wasted too much
mercy upon you,” he said. “If I rescue
you now, I shall be compelled to hang you in the morning
as breakers of law, so I may as well leave you where
you are, and allow the Red Margrave to save me the
trouble. The loss of his castle will not make
him more compassionate, especially if he learns you
were the cause of it. You will then experience
some refined tortures, I imagine; for, like myself,
he may think hanging too good for you. I should
never have fired his castle had it not been for your
rebellion.”
The men on the ground groaned but
made no further appeal. Some of them were far-seeing
enough to realize that an important change had come
over the young man they thought so well known to them,
who stood there with an air of indifference, throwing
out a suggestion now and then for the more effective
handling of the bales; suggestions carrying an impalpable
force of authority that caused them to be very promptly
obeyed. They did not know that this person whom
they had regarded as one of themselves, the youngest
at that, treating him accordingly, had but a day or
two before received a tremendous assurance, which
would have turned the head of almost any individual
in the realm, old or young; the assurance that he
was to be supreme ruler over millions of creatures
like themselves; a ruler whose lightest word might
carry their extinction with it.
Yet such is the strange littleness
of human nature that, although this potent knowledge
had been gradually exercising its effect on Roland’s
character, it was not the rebellion of the eighteen
or their mutinous words that now made him hard as
granite towards them. It was the trivial fact
that four of them had dared to manhandle him; had made
a personal assault upon him; had pinioned his helpless
arms, and flung his sword, that insignia of honor,
to the feet of Kurzbold, leader of the revolt.
The Lord’s Anointed, he was
coming to consider himself, although not yet had the
sacred ointment been placed upon his head. A temporal
Emperor and a vice-regent of Heaven upon earth, his
hand was destined to hold the invisible hilt of the
Almighty’s sword of vengeance. The words
“I will repay” were to reach their fulfillment
through his action. Notwithstanding his youth,
or perhaps because of it, he was animated by deep
religious feeling, and this, rather than ambition,
explained the celerity with which he agreed to the
proposals of the Archbishops.
The personage the prisoners saw standing
on the rock-ledge of Furstenberg was vastly different
from the young man who, a comrade of comrades, had
departed from Frankfort in their company. They
beheld him plainly enough, for there was now no need
of torches along the foreshore; the night was crimson
in its brilliancy, and down the hill came a continuous
roar, like that of the Rhine Fall seventy leagues
away.
Into this red glare the small boat
and its four occupants entered, and Roland saw with
a smile that two well-filled casks formed its freight.
The bales were now aboard the barge again, and the
Commander ordered the crew to help the quartette in
the small boat with the lifting of the heavy barrels.
Greusel and Ebearhard clambered over the side, and
came thus to the ledge where Roland stood, as the
crew rolled the barrels down into the cabin.
“Lieutenants,” said the
Commander, “select two stout battle-axes from
that heap. Follow the chain up the hill until
you reach that point where it is attached to the thick
rope. Cut the rope with your axes, and draw down
the chain with you, thus clearing a passage for the
barge.”
The two men chose battle-axes, then
turned to their leader.
“Should we not get our men aboard,”
they said, “before the barge is free?”
“These rebels are prisoners
of the Red Margrave. They belong to him, and
not to me. Where they are, there they remain.”
The lieutenants, with one impulse,
advanced to their Commander, who frowned as they did
so. A cry of despair went up from the pinioned
men, but Kurzbold shouted:
“Cut him down, Ebearhard, and
then release us. In the name of the guild I call
on you to act! He is unarmed; cut him down!
’Tis foul murder to desert us thus.”
The cutting down could easily have
been accomplished, for Roland stood at their mercy,
weaponless since the émeute on the barge.
Notwithstanding the seriousness of the occasion, the
optimistic Ebearhard laughed, although every one else
was grave enough.
“Thank you, Kurzbold, for your
suggestion. We have come forward, not to use
force, but to try persuasion. Roland, you cannot
desert to death the men whom you conducted out of
Frankfort.”
“Why can I not?”
“I should have said a moment
ago that you will not, but now I say you cannot.
Kurzbold has just shown what an irreclaimable beast
he is, and on that account, because birth, or training,
or something has made you one of different caliber,
you cannot thus desert him to the reprisal of that
red fiend up the hill.”
“If I save him now, ’twill
be but to hang him an hour later. I am no hangman,
while the Margrave is. I prefer that he should
attend to my executions.”
Again Ebearhard laughed.
“’Tis no use, Roland,
pretending abandonment, for you will not abandon.
I thoroughly favor choking the life out of Kurzbold,
and one or two of the others, and will myself volunteer
for the office of headsman, carrying, as I do, the
ax, but let everything be done decently and in order,
that a dignified execution may follow on a fair trial.”
“Commander,” shouted the
captain from the deck of the barge, “make haste,
I beg of you. The rope connecting with the Castle
has been burnt, and the chain is dragging free.
The current is swift, and this barge heavy. We
shall be away within the minute.”
“Get your crew ashore on the
instant,” cried Roland, “and fling me these
despicable burdens aboard. A man at the head,
another at the heels, and toss each into the barge.
Is there time, captain, to take this heap of cutlery
with us as trophies of the fray?”
“Yes,” replied the captain, “if
we are quick about it.”
The howling human packages were hurled
from ledge to barge; the strong, unerring sailors,
accustomed to the task, heaved no man into the water.
Others as speedily fell upon the heap of weapons, and
threw them, clattering, on the deck. All then
leaped aboard, and Roland, motioning his lieutenants
to precede him, was the last to climb over the prow.
The chain came down over the stones
with a clattering run, and fell with a great splash
into the river. The barge, now clear, swung with
the current stern foremost; the sailors got to their
oars, and gradually drew their craft away from the
shore. A little farther from the landing, those
on deck, looking upstream, enjoyed an uninterrupted
view of the magnificent conflagration. The huge
stone Castle seemed to glow white hot. The roof
had fallen in, and a seething furnace reddened the
midnight sky. Like a flaming torch the great tower
roared to the heavens. The whole hilltop resembled
the crater of an active volcano. Timber floors
and wooden partitions, long seasoned, proved excellent
material for the incendiaries, and even the stones
were crumbling away, falling into the gulf of fire,
sending up a dazzling eruption of sparks, as section
after section tumbled into this earthly Hades.
The long barge floated placidly down
a river resembling molten gold. The boat was
in disarray, covered with bales of cloth not yet lowered
into the hold, cluttered here and there with swords,
battle-axes, and spears. In the various positions
where they had been flung lay the helpless men, some
on their faces, some on their backs. The deck
was as light as if the red setting sun were casting
his rays upon it. Roland seated himself on a
bale, and said to the captain:
“Turn all these men face upward,” and
the captain did so.
“Ebearhard, you said execution
should take place after a fair trial. There is
no necessity to call witnesses, or to go through any
court of law formalities. You two are perfectly
cognizant of everything that has taken place, and
no testimony will either strengthen or weaken that
knowledge. As a preliminary, take Kurzbold, the
new president, and Gensbein, his lieutenant, from
among that group, and set them apart. Two members
of the crew will carry out this order,” which
was carried out accordingly.
Roland rose, walked along the prostrate
row, and selected, apparently at haphazard, four others,
then said to the members of his crew:
“Place these four men beside
their leader. Left to myself,” he continued
to his lieutenants, “I should hang the six.
However, I shall take no hand in the matter.
I appoint you, Joseph Greusel, and you, Gottlieb Ebearhard,
as judges, with power of life and death. If your
verdict on any or all of the accused is death, I shall
use neither the ax nor the cord, but propose flinging
them into the river, and if God wills them to reach
the shore alive, their binding will be no hindrance
to escape.”
Kurzbold and his lieutenant broke
out into alternate curses and appeals, protesting
that Greusel and Ebearhard had not been expelled from
the guild, and calling upon them by their solemn oath
of brotherhood to release them now that they possessed
the power. To these appeals the newly-appointed
judges made no reply, and for once Ebearhard did not
laugh.
The other four directed their supplications
to Roland himself. They had been misled, they
cried, and deeply regretted it. Already they suffered
punishment of a severity almost beyond power of human
endurance, and they feared their bones were broken
with the cudgeling, since which assault their bonds
grievously tortured them. All swore amendment,
and their grim commander still remaining silent, they
asked him in what respect they were more guilty than
the dozen others whom seemingly he intended to spare.
At last Roland replied.
“You four,” he said sternly,
“dared to lay hands upon me, and for that I
demand from the judges a sentence of death.”
Even his two lieutenants gazed at
him in amazement, that he should make so much of an
action which they themselves had endured and nothing
said of it. Surely the laying-on of hands, even
in rudeness, was not a capital crime, yet they saw
to their astonishment that Roland was in deadly earnest.
The leader turned a calm face toward
their scrutiny, but there was a frown upon his brow.
“Work while ye have the light,”
he said. “Judges, consider your decision,
and deliver your verdict.”
Greusel and Ebearhard turned their
backs on every one, walked slowly aft, and down into
the cabin. Roland resumed his seat on the bale
of cloth, elbows on his knees, and face in his hands.
All appeals had ceased, and deep silence reigned,
every man aboard the boat in a state of painful tension.
The fire in the distant castle lowered and lowered,
and darkness was returning to the deck of the barge.
At last the judges emerged from the cabin, and came
slowly forward.
It was Greusel who spoke.
“We wish to know if only these six are on trial?”
“Only these six,” replied Roland.
“Our verdict is death,”
said Greusel. “Kurzbold and Gensbein are
to be thrown into the Rhine bound as they lie, but
the other four receive one chance for life, in that
the cords shall be cut, leaving their limbs free.”
This seeming mercy brought no consolation
to the quartette, for each plaintively proclaimed
that he could not swim.
“I thank you for your judgment,”
said Roland, “which I am sure you must have
formed with great reluctance. Having proven yourself
such excellent judges, I doubt not you will now act
with equal wisdom as advisers. A phrase of yours,
Ebearhard, persists in my mind, despite all efforts
to dislodge it. You uttered on the ledge of rock
yonder something to the effect that we left Frankfort
as comrades together. That is very true, and
unless you override my resolution, I have come to the
conclusion that if any of us are fated to die, the
penalty shall be dealt by some other hand than mine.
The twelve who lie here are scarcely less guilty than
the six now under sentence, and I propose, therefore,
to put ashore on the east bank Kurzbold and Gensbein,
one a rogue, the other a fool. The sixteen who
remain have so definitely proven themselves to be
simpletons that I trust they will not resent my calling
them such. If however, they abandon all claim
to the comradeship that has been so much prated about,
swearing by the Three Kings of Cologne faithfully to
follow me, and obey my every word without cavil or
argument, I will pardon them, but the first man who
rebels will show that my clemency has been misplaced,
and I can assure them that it shall not be exercised
again. Captain, your sailors are familiar with
knotted ropes. Bid them release all these men
except the six condemned.”
The boatmen, with great celerity,
freed the prostrate captives from their bonds, but
some of the mutineers had been so cruelly used in the
cudgeling that it was necessary to assist them to their
feet. The early summer daybreak was at hand,
its approach heralded by the perceptible diluting
of the darkness that surrounded them, and a ghastly,
pallid grayness began to overspread the surface of
the broad river. Down the stream to the west
the towers of Bacharach could be faintly distinguished,
looking like a dream city, the lower gloom of which
was picked out here and there by points of light,
each betokening an early riser.
It was a deeply dejected, silent group
that stood in this weird half-light, awaiting the
development of Roland’s mind regarding them;
he, the youngest of their company, quiet, unemotional,
whose dominion no one now thought of disputing.
“Captain,” he continued,
“steer for the eastern shore. I know that
Bacharach is the greatest wine mart on the Rhine, and
well sustains the reputation of the drunken god for
whom it is named, but we will nevertheless avoid it.
There is a long island opposite the town, but a little
farther down. I dare say you know it well.
Place that island between us and Bacharach, and tie
up to the mainland, out of view from the stronghold
of Bacchus. He is a misleading god, with whom
we shall hold no further commerce.
“Now, Joseph Greusel, and Gottlieb
Ebearhard, do you two administer the oath of the Three
Kings to these twelve men; but before doing so, give
each one his choice, permitting him to say whether
he will follow Kurzbold on the land or obey me on
the water.”
Here Kurzbold broke out again in trembling anger:
“Your pretended fairness is
a sham, and your bogus option a piece of your own
sneaking dishonesty. What chance have we townsmen,
put ashore, penniless, in an unknown wilderness, far
from any human habitation, knowing nothing of the
way back to Frankfort? Your fraudulent clemency
rescues us from drowning merely to doom us to starvation.”
The daylight had so increased that
all might see the gentle smile coming to Roland’s
lips, and the twinkle in his eye as he looked at the
wrathful Kurzbold.
“A most intelligent leader of
men are you, Herr Conrad. I suppose this dozen
will stampede to join your leadership. They must
indeed be proud of you when they learn the truth.
I shall present to each of you, out of my own store
of gold that came from the castle you so bravely attacked
last night, one half the amount that is your due.
This will be more money than any of you ever possessed
before; each portion, indeed, excelling the total
that you eighteen accumulated during your whole lives.
I could easily bestow your share without perceptible
diminution of the fund we three, unaided, extracted
from the coffers of the Red Margrave. The reason
I do not pay in full is this. When you reach
Frankfort, I must be assured that you will keep your
foolish tongues silent. If any man speaks of
our labors, I shall hear of it on my return, and will
fine that man his remaining half-share.
“It distresses me to expose
your ignorance, Kurzbold, but I put you ashore amply
provided with money, barely two-thirds of a league
from Lorch, where you spent so jovial an evening,
and where a man with gold in his pouch need fear neither
hunger nor thirst. Lorch may be attained by a
leisurely walker in less than half an hour; indeed,
it is barely two leagues from this spot to Assmannshausen,
and surely you know the road from that storehouse
of red wine to the capital city of Frankfort, having
once traversed it. A child of six, Kurzbold, might
be safely put ashore where you shall set foot on land.
Therefore, lieutenants, let each man know he will
receive a bag of coin, and may land unmolested to
accompany the brave and intelligent Kurzbold.”
As he finished this declamation, that
caused even some of the beaten warriors to laugh at
their leader, the barge came gently alongside the
strand, well out of sight of Bacharach. Each of
the dozen swore the terrible, unbreakable oath of
the Three Kings to be an obedient henchman to Roland.
“You may,” said Roland,
“depart to the cabin, where a flagon of wine
will be served to every man, and also an early breakfast.
After that you are permitted to lie down and relax
your swollen limbs, meditating on the extract from
Holy Writ which relates the fate of the blind when
led by the blind.”
When the dozen limped away, the chief
turned to his prisoners.
“Against you four I bear resentment
that I thought could not be appeased except by your
expulsion, but reflection shows me that you acted under
instruction from the foolish leader you selected, and
therefore the principal, not the agent, is most to
blame. I give you the same choice I have accorded
to the rest. Unloose them, captain; and while
this is being done, Greusel, get two empty bags from
the locker, open one of the casks, and place in each
bag an amount which you estimate to be one half the
share which is Kurzbold’s due.”
The four men standing up took the
oath, and thanked Roland for his mercy, hurrying away
at a sign from him to their bread and wine.
“Send hither,” cried Roland
after them, “two of the men who have already
refreshed themselves, each with a loaf of bread and
a full flagon of wine. And now, captain, release
Kurzbold and Gensbein.”
When these two stood up and stretched
themselves, the bearers of bread and wine presented
them with this refreshment, and after they had partaken
of it, Greusel gave them each a bag of gold, which
they tied to their belts without a word, while Greusel
and Ebearhard waited to escort them to land.
“We want our swords,” said Kurzbold sullenly.
Ebearhard looked at his chief, but he shook his head.
“They have disgraced their swords,”
he said, “which now by right belong to the Margrave
Hermann von Katznellenbogenstahleck. Put them
ashore, lieutenant.”
It was broad daylight, and the men
had all come up from the cabin, standing in a silent
group at the stern. Kurzbold, on the bank, foaming
at the mouth with fury, shook his fist at them, roaring:
“Cowards! Pigs! Dolts! Asses!
Poltroons!”
The men made no reply, but Ebearhard’s
hearty laugh rang through the forest.
“You have given us your titles,
Kurzbold,” he cried. “Send us your
address whenever you get one!”
“Captain,” said Roland,
“cast off. Cross to this side of that island,
and tie up there for the day. Set a man on watch,
relieving the sentinel every two hours. We have
spent an exciting night, and will sleep till evening.”
“Your honor, may I first stow
away these bales, and dispose of the battle-axes,
spears, and broadswords, so to clear the deck?”
“You may do that, captain, at
sunset. As for the bales, they make a very comfortable
couch upon which I intend to rest.”