THE BETROTHAL IN THE GARDEN
Next morning Prince Roland sent a
letter to the Archbishop of Mayence informing him
that the Empress had taken up her abode in the Palace
of her old friend, the Lord of Cologne, giving the
reasons for this move and his own desertion of the
Imperial Palace, and asking permission to call upon
his mother each day. The messenger brought back
a prompt reply, which commended the delicacy of his
motives in leaving the Royal Palace, but added that,
so far as the three Archbishops were concerned, the
Saalhof was still at their disposal: of course
Prince Roland’s movements were quite untrammeled,
and again, so far as concerned the three Archbishops,
he was at liberty to visit whom he pleased, as often
as he liked.
While waiting for the return of his
messenger, Roland called upon Herr Goebel, and told
him that twenty emissaries had gone forth in every
direction from Frankfort to inform the farming community
that a market had been opened in the city, and in
exchange learned what the merchant had already done
towards furthering the necessary organization.
“Oh, by the way, Herr Goebel,”
he cried, suddenly recollecting, “just write
out and sign a document to this effect: ’I
promise Herr Roland, sword maker of Sachsenhausen,
to supply him with the capital necessary for carrying
out his contract with his Lordship the Archbishop of
Cologne.’”
Without demur the merchant indited
the document, signed it, and gave it to the Prince.
“If any emissary of Mayence
pays you a domiciliary visit, Herr Goebel, asking
questions about me, carefully conceal my real status,
and reply that I am an honest, skillful sword maker,
anxious to revive the iron-working industry, and for
this reason, being yourself solicitous for the welfare
of Frankfort, you are risking some money.”
In the afternoon Roland walked to
the Palace of Cologne and boldly entered, with no
attempt at secrecy, the doorkeeper on this occasion
offering no impediment to his progress. He learned
that the Empress, much fatigued, had retired to her
room and must not be disturbed; that the Archbishop
was consulting with the Count Palatine, while the
Countess von Sayn was walking in the garden. Roland
passed with some haste through the Palace, and emerged
into the grounds behind it: grounds delightfully
umbrageous, and of an extent surprisingly large, surrounded
by a very high wall of stone, so solidly built that
it might successfully stand a siege.
Roland found the girl sauntering very
slowly along one of the most secluded alleys, whose
gravel-path lay deeply in the shade caused by the
thick foliage of over-hanging trees, which made a cool,
green tunnel of the walk. Her head was slightly
bowed in thought, her beautiful face pathetic in its
weariness, and the young man realized, with a pang
of sympathy, that she was still to all intents and
purposes a prisoner, with no companions but venerable
people. She could not, and indeed did not attempt
to suppress an exclamation of delight at seeing him,
stretching out both hands in greeting, and her countenance
cleared as if by magic.
“I was thinking of you!”
she cried, without a trace of coquetry.
“I judged your thoughts to be
rather gloomy,” he said, with a laugh, in which
she joined.
“Gloomy only because I could see or hear nothing
of you.”
“Did you know I came yesterday?”
“No. Why did you not ask to see me?”
“I was informed you were entertaining the Count
Palatine.”
“Ah, yes. He is a delightful
old man. I like him better and better as time
goes on. My guardian and I were guests of his
at Gutenfels just before I occupied the marine prison
of Pfalz.”
“So your guardian told me.”
They were now walking side by side
in this secluded, thickly-wooded avenue, just wide
enough for two, running in a straight line from wall
to wall the whole length of the property, in the part
most remote from the house.
“Nothing disastrous has happened
to you?” she asked. “I have had miserable
forebodings.”
“No; I am living a most commonplace
life, quite uneventful.”
“But why, why does the Archbishop
of Mayence delay the Election?”
“I did not know he was doing so.”
“Oh, my guardian is very anxious
about it. Such postponement, I understand, never
happened before. The State is without a head.”
“Has your guardian spoken to Mayence about it?”
“Yes; and has been met by the
most icy politeness. Mayence wishes this Election
to take place with a full conclave of the seven Electors,
three of whom have not yet arrived. But my guardian
says they never arrive, and take no interest in Imperial
matters. He pointed out to Mayence that a quorum
of the Court is already in Frankfort, but his Lordship
of the Upper Rhine merely protests that they must
not force an Election, all of which my guardian thinks
is a mere hiding of some design on the part of Mayence.”
Prince Roland meditated on this for
a few moments, then, as if shaking off his doubts,
he said:
“It never occurs to one Archbishop
that either of the others may be speaking the truth.
There is so much mistrust among them that they nullify
all united action, which accounts for the prostrate
state of this city, the capital of one of the most
prosperous countries under the sun. So far as
I can see, taken individually, they are upright, trustworthy
men. Now, to give you an instance. Your guardian
last night was simply panic-stricken at my audacity
in visiting him. He said I must not come again,
refusing me permission to see you; he told you nothing
of my conference with him: he felt certain I was
being tracked by spies, and could not be made to understand
that my presence here was of no consequence one way
or another.”
“Then why are you here now?”
“I am just coming to that.
I asked your guardian to invite my mother as his guest.
Have you met her yet?”
“No; they told me the Empress
was too tired to receive any one. I am to be
introduced at dinner to-night.”
“Well, this morning I wrote
to the Archbishop of Mayence, telling him of my interview
with your guardian, the reason for it, and the results.
His reply came promptly by return.” Roland
produced the document. “Just read that,
and see whether you detect anything sinister in it.”
She read the letter thoughtfully.
“That is honest enough on the surface.”
“On the surface, yes; but why
not below the surface as well? That is a frank
assent to a frank request. I think that if the
Archbishops would treat each other with open candor
they would save themselves a good deal of anxiety.”
“Perhaps,” said the girl, very quietly.
“You are not convinced?”
“I don’t know what to
think.” Then she looked up at him quickly.
“Were you followed last night?”
“Ah!” ejaculated Roland,
laughing a little “apparently not, so far as
I could see, but the night was very dark.”
Then he related to her the incidents succeeding the
return to his room, while she listened with breathless
eagerness. “The Lieutenant,” he concluded,
“did not deny that he was in the service of
Mayence when I hinted as much, but, on the other hand,
he did not admit it. Of course, I knew by his
uniform to whom he belonged. He conducted my
examination with military abruptness, but skillfully
and with increasing courtesy, although I proclaimed
myself a mechanic.”
“You a mechanic!” she
said incredulously. “Do you think he believed
it?”
“I see you doubt my histrionic
ability, but when next he waits upon me I shall produce
documentary evidence of my status, and, what is more,
I’ll take to my workshop.”
“Do you possess a workshop?” cried the
girl in amazement.
“Do I? Why, I am partner
with a man named Greusel, and we own a workshop together.
A gruff, clumsy individual, as you would think, but
who, nevertheless, with his delicate hammer, would
beat you out in metal a brooch finer than that you
are wearing.”
“Do you mean Joseph?”
“Yes,” replied Roland, astonished.
“What do you know of him?”
“Have you forgotten so soon?
It was his stalwart shoulders that burst in my door
at Pfalz, and you yourself told me his name was Joseph
Greusel. Were all those marauders you commanded
honest mechanics?”
“Every man of them.”
“Then you must be the villain
of the piece who led those worthy ironworkers astray?”
Roland laughed heartily.
“That is quite true,” he said. “Have
I fallen in your estimation?”
“No; to me you appeared as a
rescuer. Besides, I come of a race of ruffians,
and doubtless on that account take a more lenient view
of your villainy than may be the case with others.”
The young man stopped in his walk,
and seized her hands again, which she allowed him
to possess unresisting.
“Hilda,” he said solemnly,
“your guardian thought the Archbishop of Mayence
had relented, and would withdraw his opposition to
our marriage. Has Mayence said anything to corroborate
that estimate?”
“Nothing.”
“Has your guardian broached the subject to him?”
“Yes; but the attitude of my
Lord of Mayence was quite inscrutable. Personally
I think my guardian wrong in his surmise. The
Archbishop of Treves murmured that Mayence never forgives.
I am certain I offended him too deeply for pardon.
He wishes the future Empress to be a pliable creature
who will influence her husband according to his Lordship’s
desires, but, as I have boasted several times, I belong
to the House of Sayn.”
“Hilda, will you marry me in spite of the Archbishops?”
“Roland, will you forego kingship for my sake?”
“Yes; a thousand times yes!”
“You said ‘For the Empress;
not for the Empire,’ but if I am no Empress,
you will as cheerfully wed me?”
“Yes.”
“Then I say yes!”
He caught her in his arms, and they
floated into the heaven of their first kiss, an ecstatic
melting together. Suddenly she drew away from
him.
“There is some one coming,” she whispered.
“Nothing matters now,”
said Roland breathlessly. “There is no one
in the world to-day but you and me.”
Hildegunde drew her hands down her
cheeks, as if to brush away their tell-tale color
and their warmth.
“’Tis like,” said Roland, “that
you marry a poor man.”
“Nothing matters now,”
she repeated, laughing tremulously. “I am
said to be the richest woman in Germany. I shall
build you a forge and enlist myself your apprentice.
We will paint over the door ’Herr Roland and
wife; sword makers.’”
Two men appeared at the end of the
alley, and stood still; the one with a frown on his
brow, the other with a smile on his lips.
“Oh!” whispered the Countess,
panic striking from her face the color that her palms
had failed to remove, “the Archbishop and the
Count Palatine!”
His Lordship strode forward, followed
more leisurely by the smiling Count.
“Prince Roland,” said
Cologne, “I had not expected this after our
conference of last night.”
“I fail to understand why, my
Lord, when my parting words were ’Tell your
porter to let me in without parley.’ That
surely indicated an intention on my part to visit
the Palace.”
“Your Highness knows that so
far as I am concerned you are very welcome, and always
shall be so, but at this juncture there are others
to consider.”
Roland interrupted.
“Read this letter, my Lord,
and you will learn that I am here with the full concurrence
of that generous Prince of the Church, Mayence.”
Cologne, with knitted brow, scrutinized
the communication.
“Your Highness is most courageous,
but, if I may be permitted, just a trifle too clever.”
“My Highness is not clever at
all, but merely meets a situation as it arises.”
“Prince Roland,” said
the Countess, her head raised proudly, “may I
introduce to you my friend, and almost my neighbor,
the Count Palatine of the Rhine?”
“Ah, pardon me,” murmured
the Archbishop, covered with confusion, but the jovial
Count swept away all embarrassment by his hearty greeting.
“Prince Roland, I am delighted
with the honor her ladyship accords me.”
“And I, my Lord, am exceedingly
gratified to meet the Count Palatine again.”
“Again?” cried the Count
in astonishment, “If ever we had encountered
one another, your Highness, I certainly should not
have been the one to forget the privilege.”
The Prince laughed.
“It is true, nevertheless.
My Lord Count, there is a namesake of mine in the
precincts of your strong Castle of Gutenfels; a namesake
who does more honor to the title than I do myself.”
The Count Palatine threw back his
head, and the forest garden echoed with boisterous
laughter.
“You mean my black charger,
Prince Roland!” he shouted. “A noble
horse indeed. How knew you of him? If your
Highness cares for horses allow me to present him
to you.”
“Never, my Lord Count.
You are too fond of him yourself, and I have always
had an affectionate feeling towards you for your love
of that animal, which, indeed, hardly exceeds my own.
I grasped his bridle-rein, and held the stirrup while
you mounted.”
“How is that possible?” asked the astonished
Count.
“I cared for Prince Roland nearly
a month, receiving generous wages, and, what I valued
more, your own commendation, for you saw I was as
fond of horses as you were.”
“Good heavens! Were you
that youth who came so mysteriously, and disappeared
without warning?”
“Yes,” laughed the Prince.
“I know Gutenfels nearly as well as you do.
I was a spy, studying the art of war and methods of
fortification. I stopped in various capacities
at nearly all the famous Castles of the Rhine, and
this knowledge recently came in ”
“Your Highness, your Highness!”
pleaded the Archbishop. “I implore you
to remember that the Count Palatine is an Elector of
the Empire, and, as I told last night, we are facing
a crisis. Until that crisis is passed you will
add to my already great anxiety by any lack of reticence
on your part.”
“By the Three Kings!”
cried the Count, “this youth, if I may venture
to call him so, has bound me to him with bands stronger
than chain armor. I shall vote for him whoever
falters.”
“His Highness,” said the
Archbishop, with a propitiatory smile, “has
been listening to the Eastern tales which our ancestors
brought from the Crusades, and I fear has filled his
head with fancies.”
“Really, Archbishop, you misjudge
me,” said the young man; “I am the most
practical person in the Empire. You interrupted
my boasting to her ladyship of my handiwork.
I would have you know I am a capable mechanic and
a sword maker. What think you of that, my Lord?”
he asked, drawing forth his weapon, and handing it
to Cologne.
“An excellent blade indeed,”
said the latter, balancing it in his hand.
“Very well, my Lord, I made
it and tempered it unassisted. I beg you to re-enter
your palace, and write me out an order for a thousand
of these weapons.”
“If your Highness really wishes
me to do this, and there is no concealed humorism
in your request which I am too dull to fathom, you
must accompany me to my study and dictate the document
I am to indite. I shall wait till you bid farewell
to the Countess.”
A glance of mutual understanding flashed
between the girl and himself, then Roland raised her
hand to his lips, and although the onlookers saw the
gallant salutation, they knew nothing of the gentle
pressure with which the fingers exchanged their confidences.
“Madam,” said the Prince,
“it will be my pleasure and duty to wait upon
my mother to-morrow. May I look forward to the
happiness of presenting you to her?”
“I thank you,” said the
Countess simply, with a glance of appeal at her guardian.
That good man sighed, then led the way into the house.