When Count Bertrich flung himself from his horse in front of the Archbishop's summer palace at Zurlauben, and strode hastily up the steps that led to the entrance, he passed through the crowded hall, looking neither to the right nor the left until he reached the ante-chamber that communicated with the large room in which the Elector transacted his business. The waiting and excited throng in the hall made way for him, as the great war-lord and acknowledged favourite of the powerful Archbishop went clanking through among them clad in full armour, paying not the slightest heed to their salutations.

The Count found the secretary ready to conduct him instantly into the presence of the Archbishop, and together, in silence, they entered the lofty apartment that was part chapel and part throne-room.

At the further end of the noble presence-chamber Arnold von Isenberg paced back and forward across the polished floor, his hands clasped behind him, a dark frown on his downward bent brow. He was clad in the long silken robes of his priestly office, and their folds hissed behind him like a following litter of serpents as he walked. He paused in his promenade when the Count and the monk entered, and, straightening his tall form, stood regarding them in silence, until the secretary slipped noiselessly from the room and left the summoned and summoner alone together.

"You are here at last," began the Archbishop, coldly. "It is full time you arrived. Your bride has fled."

"Fled? The Countess Tekla?"

"You have no other, I trust," continued the Prince of the Church, in even, unimpassioned tones. "My first thought on learning she was missing made me apprehensive that the girl had anticipated the marriage ceremony by flying to your notoriously open arms, and I expected to be asked to bless a bridal somewhat hastily encompassed; but I assume from your evident surprise that she has been given the strength to resist temptation which takes the form of your mature and manly virtues."

The sword cut across Count Bertrich's face reddened angrily as he listened to the sneering, contemptuous words of the Archbishop, but he kept his hot temper well in hand and said nothing. The manner of his over-lord changed, and he spoke sharply and decisively, as one whose commands admit neither question nor discussion.

"Last night the Countess Tekla took it upon herself to disappear. The guards say she passed them going outward about ten o'clock, and no one saw her return. This leads me to suspect that, with childish craftiness, the passing of the guards was merely a ruse on her part, intended to mislead, and so although I pay little attention to such a transparent wile, I have taken all precautions and have already acted on the clue thus placed in my hands, for there is every chance that the girl is indeed a fool; we usually err in ascribing too much wisdom to our fellow creatures. Regarding the proposed marriage, which, strange and unaccountable as it may appear to me, and must appear to you, the Countess seemed to view with little favour, she threatened to appeal to the Emperor and also to his Holiness the Pope." On mentioning the name of the latter, the Archbishop slightly inclined his head. "I take small account of the Emperor, but have nevertheless sent a body of fleet troopers along the Frankfort road in case she meant what she said, which I suppose may sometimes happen with a woman. They know not whom they seek, but have orders to arrest and bring back every woman they find, therefore we are like to have shortly in Treves a screaming bevy of females, enough to set any city mad. I have thrown out a drag-net, and we shall have some queer fish when it is pulled in. But to you and to you alone, Count Bertrich, do I reveal my mind; see therefore that you make no mistake. The fool has taken to the water and is now committed to the sinuous Moselle.

"She said nothing in her protests about her uncle of Thuron, and unless I am grievously misled, the crooked talons of the black vulture are in this business. He has doubtless provided boat and crew, and they are making their way down the river in the night, concealing themselves during the day. They will avoid Bruttig and Cochem. Make you therefore for Bruttig with what speed you may, sparing neither horse nor man; yourself I know you will not spare. If nothing has been heard of them there, order a chain across the river that will stop all traffic and set a night guard upon it; then press on to Thuron across the country by the most direct line you can follow, coming back up the river to intercept them, for their outlook will be entirely directed toward what is following them. If, in spite of all our precautions, the girl reaches Thuron, seek instant entrance to the castle and audience with the Black Count. Demand in my name, immediate custody of the body of Countess Tekla; if this is refused, declare castle and lands forfeit and Heinrich outlaw. Retire at once to Cochem, where I shall join you with my army. And now to horse and away. Success here depends largely on speed."

Count Bertrich made no reply but sank on one knee, rose quickly and left the room. The expression on his face as he passed through the multitude in the great hall was not such as to invite inquiry, and no one accosted him.

"There is war in that red scar of Bertrich's," said an officer to another.

Outside the Count flung himself on his horse, gave a brief word of command to his waiting troop, and galloped away at the head of his men.

He made no attempt to pursue the extremely crooked course of the upper river, but, knowing the country well, he left the Moselle some distance below Treves, and, taking a rude thoroughfare that was more path than road, followed it up hill and down dale through the forest. He was determined to reach Bruttig that night, hoping to finish the journey by moonlight, taking advantage of the long summer day and riding as hard as horseflesh could endure. When the day wore on to evening Bertrich saw that he had set to himself no easy task, for in the now pathless forest, speedy progress became more and more difficult, and when the moon rose, the density of the growth overhead allowed her light to be of little avail. Several times a halt was sounded and the bugle called the troop together, for now all attempt at regularity of march had been abandoned, but on each occasion the numbers thus gathered were fewer than when the former rally was held. In spite of his temporary loss of men, Bertrich, with stubborn persistence, determined to push on, even if he reached Bruttig alone. For an hour they pressed northward to find the river which they now needed as a guide, knowing they would come upon it at Bruttig or at least some short distance above or below it, but before the Moselle was reached they suddenly met an unexpected check. The outposts of an unseen band commanded them to stop and give account of themselves.

"Who dares to bar the way of the Archbishop's troops?" demanded Count Bertrich.

"It is the Archbishop's troops that we are here to stop. Will you fight or halt?" was the answer.

Bertrich, with his exhausted men and jaded horses, was in no condition to fight, yet was he most anxious to pursue his way, and get some information of his whereabouts, so he spoke with less imperiousness than his impulse at first prompted.

"I am Count Bertrich, commanding a division of his Lordship's army. I am on a peaceful mission, and, when I left his Lordship this morning, he had no quarrel with any. There has been some misunderstanding, and I should be loath to add to it by drawing sword unless I am attacked."

"You shall not be molested if you stay where you are. If, however, you attempt to advance, our orders are to fall upon you," said a voice from the darkness.

Noticing that the voice which now spoke was not the one that had first challenged, Count Bertrich said,

"Are you in command, or am I speaking to a sentinel?"

"I am in command."

"Then who are you and whom do you serve?"

"Doubtless you are well aware whom I serve?"

"I know no more than the Archbishop himself."

"That I can well believe, and still would not hold you ignorant."

"We are talking at cross purposes, fellow. There must be, as I have said, some mistake, for the domains of the Archbishop are in a state of peace. There is no secret about my destination as there is none about the name which I have rendered to you. I am bound for Bruttig and hope to reach there before day dawns."

"My master knew of your destination and that is why I am here to prevent you reaching it."

"What you allege is impossible. None knew of my destination save the Archbishop and myself, and I have ridden from Treves with such use of spur that news of my coming could not have forestalled me. Again I ask you whom you serve."

"That you doubtless guess, for you know whom you are sent against, and why you ride to Bruttig."

"You speak in riddles; what have you to fear from plain answers?"

"I fear nothing. My duty is not to answer questions but to arrest your progress toward Bruttig. If you have questions to ask, ask them of Count Beilstein."

"Oh ho! Then it is to Count Beilstein I owe this midnight discourtesy. I thank you for that much information, which is to me entirely unexpected. Where is the Count?"

"He is at Bruttig."

"How far is that from where we stand?"

"Something more than a league."

"I cannot comprehend why Count Beilstein should endeavour to prevent my reaching Bruttig, nor how he can be aware of an expedition of which neither the Archbishop nor myself knew aught this morning. In addition to this, Bruttig is under the joint jurisdiction of my master and yours and the Count of Winneburg, therefore the retainers of each over-lord have free entrance to the place."

"Such was indeed the case until the Archbishop broke the truce. Now Beilstein and Winneburg have combined, overthrown the Archbishop's jurisdiction, and they hold Bruttig together, with the men of the Elector prisoners."

"In the Fiend's name when did this take place? We knew nothing of it at Treves. How broke the Archbishop the truce?"

"It was broken by an emissary of his, who by magic sword-play slew my master's Captain, leaving in his neck a hole no bigger than a pin's point, yet enough to let out the life of my fellow soldier. Then when there was outcry at this foul play, the fellow, being sore pressed, cries 'Treves, Treves,' claiming that the wench with him was no other than the ward of the Archbishop – "

"Ha! Say you so? And what then?"

"Thereupon the Archbishop's Captain bugles up the men of Treves, rallies round the emissary of his crafty Lordship, and makes rescue, escorting him later, wench and all, to his Lordship's stronghold of Cochem, where doubtless they think themselves safe. But Beilstein, issuing from his castle, went forthwith to Bruttig, joined with Winneburg, made prisoners of the men of Treves, and sent me here in force to intercept any whom they expected the Archbishop would shortly send, as indeed he seems to have done under your distinguished leadership."

"You fill me with amazement. There is, as I surmised, a misunderstanding, and one of no small moment, which we must make it our business to set right. It is therefore most important that I should have speech with your master and that speedily. I pray you instantly to escort me with your men to Bruttig."

"That may I not do, my Lord. My orders are strict and Count Beilstein is not the man to overlook divergence from them."

"Then come with me yourself; I shall go as your prisoner or in any guise you please, so that no time be lost. My men will camp here for the night."

"I cannot part company from my orders, which are to stop you or to fight with you if you refuse to stand."

"But the man you call emissary of the Archbishop, who killed your comrade, is the one I travel in hot haste to arrest. Him the Archbishop will gladly yield to your master for fitting punishment, but while we babble here, time flies and he with it."

"It will take more than the bare word of any follower of Treves to make my master believe that the murderer, who went jauntily with escort of the Archbishop's men to the Archbishop's castle in Cochem, is one whom the Archbishop is desirous of handing over to my Lord for punishment, still this much I may do. I will send at once a fleet messenger to my Lord at Bruttig, acquainting him with your presence here, and that messenger will take any word you are pleased to send to Count Beilstein."

Count Bertrich sighed as he agreed to this, for he was too strict a disciplinarian himself not to know that the Captain who offered to do this much, dare not wander from the definite instructions he had received. He had at first some thought of beseeching Beilstein to send instant word to Cochem to hold within the castle all who lodged there, until the arrival of commands from the Archbishop, but he was loath to divulge to Beilstein and Winneburg the full facts of the case, and he was well aware that, without doing so, he would have some difficulty in explaining his own presence, which seemed to tally so exactly with the forecasts of those now temporarily opposing him. However, a league was but a short distance and a swift messenger would speedily cover it. His men, thoroughly exhausted, were, many of them, asleep in their saddles, and although he himself was still eager to be on his way, he saw that any attempt to move onward would be futile and would still further complicate the already intricate condition of things, so he contented himself with sending a message to the Count, the purport of which was, that there had been a mistake which the Archbishop would speedily rectify, and that it was imperative for the capture of the criminal, that an immediate conference should take place between Count Beilstein and himself.

This done, he gave the order for dismounting and resting until the messenger returned. A camp was formed and picketed to prevent surprise, although he had little fear of an attack, as he had evidently convinced the opposing Captain of his good faith, yet the military instinct was strong in Count Bertrich, and he took all the precautions which suggest themselves to a man in an enemy's country. The moment he threw himself on the ground he fell into a sound and much needed sleep.

It was daylight when one of the sentinels awoke him, saying the messenger had returned. Count Beilstein gave Bertrich choice of three courses of action: first, he might come alone to Bruttig; second, he might bring his men with him, provided they first deliver up their arms to the Captain who had stopped him; third, he might fight. Count Bertrich quickly decided. He ordered his followers to deliver up their arms to the Captain, he himself retaining his weapons, and thus they marched into Bruttig. It was soon made apparent to both the opposing nobles that the unknown young man who had proved himself so expert a swordsman was no minion of the Archbishop. The Archbishop's Captain had not yet returned from Cochem, so the only one who could give a connected account of what had taken place was Winneburg's Captain, who, under the shrewd cross-questioning of Count Bertrich, speedily proved that no document had passed between the young man and the Archbishop's leader; that, in fact, the Captain had several times asked for such, but it had not been produced.

"It is as I suspected," said Count Bertrich, "the person who held a passport from Frankfort is a follower of Black Heinrich, whose object is but too evident. He seeks to embroil you with the Archbishop, and has come perilously near to success. If the scoundrel is still at Cochem, into which castle I assure you he went with extreme reluctance, and only under pressure of circumstances, for you learn from your own man that he refused to send a messenger to Treves when the Captain offered to dispatch one, then we have him fast, and I undertake, on my own responsibility, to deliver him to the just vengeance of Count Beilstein. What I fear is, that this unfortunate delay has given him time to slip away from Cochem and betake himself to Thuron, where we may have to smoke him out, if Black Heinrich refuses to deliver him to us. As to this imprisoning of the Archbishop's men in the absence of their Captain, I think the least said about it the better. I shall certainly not dwell upon it when I return to Treves, but I would suggest that they be liberated without further delay. The Archbishop was not in the happiest temper when I parted from him yesterday, and one can never predict with certainty what he may do under provocation. I have myself been so anxious to avoid any cause of offence, that I have gone to the extreme length of disarming my men and coming unprotected among you, an act for which his Lordship is little likely to commend me, should it come to his ears. The moment their weapons are restored, I shall journey to Cochem and endeavour to catch my young swordsman."

Winneburg, the quarrel being none of his, having slept on the matter, and seeing more clearly than he did on the previous day the danger of entangling himself with so formidable an antagonist as the Archbishop of Treves, at once admitted that there had been a misunderstanding all round, and expressed his willingness to revert to the former condition of things, as the Archbishop, through Count Bertrich, had disclaimed the doings of their visitor of the day before. Beilstein, more hot-headed and more stubborn, was reluctant to admit himself in the wrong, but if his ally fell from him, there was nothing for it but submission, with the best grace he could bring to bear on his retreat; and certainly Bertrich seemed in no way disposed to impose hard conditions, so he gave order that the prisoners should be released, and that their arms should be returned to Bertrich's men.

Having eaten, Count Bertrich and his troop hastened down the river, hoping to intercept the fugitives at Cochem. In sight of the castle he met the Captain and his dozen horsemen returning. He sent all back with the exception of one man, whom he forwarded to Treves to acquaint the Archbishop with what had taken place. The Captain was ordered to detain the Countess Tekla in Cochem Castle until the Archbishop's pleasure should be known; to arrest the young man who accompanied her, take him to Bruttig, and deliver him to Count Beilstein. Then taking but two followers with him, Count Bertrich struck across the country direct for Thuron Castle. He approached that stronghold with caution, keeping to the high lands above the castle until he espied on the other side of the river the party of whom he was in search, and saw that they had indeed stolen away from Cochem. Coming down to the river edge, keeping all the while in concealment as much as the nature of the country permitted, knowing there was danger in crossing the stream in full view of Thuron Castle itself, but nevertheless not hesitating for a moment, he and his two men plunged their horses into the flood and won the other side a little below the promontory of Hattonis Porta. Stealthily ascending the hill, hoping to take the party by surprise, but in any case having not the slightest doubt of the result of the encounter, Count Bertrich found himself within range of the alert eyes of the English archer.

CHAPTER XII
CUPID'S BOW GIVES PLACE TO THE ARCHER'S

Rodolph's first thought ran toward the safety of the Countess. He resolved at once to send her down the hill they had so recently climbed, and, under escort of Conrad, ask her to cross on horseback to the other side of the river, reaching the castle as soon as might be, while he held Count Bertrich and the two men in check; but a moment's reflection convinced him that the Count, having intercepted them by cutting across country to the south of the Moselle, had most likely placed on the opposite bank a company of troops in ambush, ready to capture whoever came within its radius. The crossing must be done under shadow of the castle, so that any lurking enemy might be over-awed by the menace of its presence, and thus they could ascend unhindered to its frowning portal. That their situation was already attracting attention at Thuron was evident, for the Emperor saw bodies of men grouped upon the walls, while several horsemen were collected at the entrance as if in readiness to ride, should occasion demand their interference. But there was no signal by which Rodolph could call for aid, and, of course, Black Heinrich had little suspicion that his own niece was probably about to be captured almost within the shadow of his strong castle.

There was, however, scant time for pondering. Now that concealment was no longer possible, Count Bertrich, adjusting his lance for the encounter, was advancing, closely followed by the two men.

"Conrad," cried the Emperor, "take the Countess down the hill till you lose sight of our assailants, then, as speedily as possible, bend through the forest to the north, circling this spot so that you come upon the Moselle opposite Thuron. Cross the river and make for the castle gates."

"But you, my Lord, unarmed, cannot oppose three armoured men," objected Conrad.

"I stand by his Lordship," said the archer, with an unruffled confidence, that in spite of the strait they were in brought the suggestion of a smile to the lips of the Emperor.

"We will hold our ground, with what success may befall us," replied Rodolph, "but lose no time in your circuit, and keep strict watch for ambush."

The Countess, Conrad, and Hilda departed, leaving Rodolph and the bowman alone on the top of the hill, in serious jeopardy, for neither man wore armour, and the Emperor had no weapon except his slight rapier.

The archer, seeing from the first that trouble was ahead, but having too little curiosity regarding its origin to cause him to venture inquiry, so long as no attempt was made to smooth away difficulty and bring about a peaceful understanding, caring not a jot whether the side of the quarrel he expected to champion was just, or the reverse, had unslung his bow, giving a hitch to the full quiver so that the ends of the arrows were convenient to his right hand, and now stood with left foot slightly forward as a bowman should, measuring critically with his half shut eye the distance between himself and the three horsemen.

"Is it your Lordship's pleasure," he asked, "that I kill all three, or do you purpose to try conclusion yourself with one or other of them? If so, which shall I spare?"

"These men are cased in iron, and proof against your shafts. I will parley with them and offer single combat to their leader; we cannot hope to prosper in a general onset."

"Their faces are bare, which is all the kindness I ask of any man who sets himself up as target."

"If choice is to be made, spare the leader, and leave him for me to deal with," said Rodolph, stepping forward and raising his voice, as he accosted the hostile party.

"My Lord, Count Bertrich," he cried, "I ask of you a truce and a parley, when we may each disclose our intentions to the other, and find if amicable adjustment be possible."

An exclamation of intense disgust escaped the impatient archer at this pacific proclamation, but his drooping spirits revived on hearing the defiant tone of the Count.

"Who are you, whelp, to propose a conference with me? Were it not that I promised to take you alive so Beilstein may have the pleasure of hanging you, I would now ride you down and put a good end upon mischievous interference. Therefore surrender, and appeal for clemency to Beilstein, for you will have none from me."

"Spoken like a brave man and a warrior," exclaimed the archer, with enthusiasm. "Would there were more nobles in Germany resembling him. Now, my Lord, surely the insult anent your hanging, demands that instant defiance be hurled at him."

"Peace, peace," whispered Rodolph, "you will have your fighting, never fear. I must gain time so that the others may escape." Then he cried aloud, "If I surrender, my Lord Count, it must be on terms distinctly set forth, with conditions stated and guaranteed by your knightly word."

The Emperor's diplomatic efforts were without avail. Count Bertrich made no reply, but giving a quick word of command to his followers, levelled lance and dug spurs into his horse. The three came on together, the Count slightly in advance, his men at right and left of him, the pulsation of the beating hoofs on the hard turf breaking the intense stillness. The Emperor stood firm with tightened lips awaiting the onslaught, having little hope that it would end favourably to him. The archer, however, gave forth a joyous cry that was half-cheer, half-chuckle, and, without awaiting for command, drew swiftly the string of his bow to his ear, letting fly twice in succession with a twang that sounded like a note from a harp. The arrows, with the hum of angry bees, passed first by one ear and then by the other of the advancing warrior, who instinctively swayed his head this way and that to avoid the light-winged missiles, thinking he was shot at and missed, but the piercing death-shriek first from the man at his left and then from the one at his right, speedily acquainted him with the true result. Before him he saw the deadly weapon again raised, and felt intuitively that this time the shaft was directed against himself, although the archer paused in the launching of it, apparently awaiting orders from his superior. The Emperor raised his right hand menacingly and cried in a voice that might almost have been heard at the castle:

"Back, my Lord Count. There is certain death to meet you in two horse-lengths more."

The impetus of the Count's steed was so great that it was impossible to check it in time, but he at once raised his lance in token that he had abandoned attack, and, pulling on the left bridle rein, swerved his course so that he described a semi-circle and came to a stand facing his foes, with the two dead men lying stark between him and his intended victims.

With a downward sweep of the hand that had been lifted, the Emperor signalled to his ally to lower his bow, which the archer reluctantly did, drawing a deep sigh that the battle should be so quickly done with.

Rodolph advanced a few steps and once more accosted his foe.

"My Lord," he said, "you see, I trust, that I hold your life at my mercy. I am willing to give terms to a brave antagonist, which he refused to me."

"In truth," grumbled the archer, "I see nothing brave in one who attacks with three, all heavily armoured and mounted, two on foot, one of whom is without weapons. I beg you to tell him so, or allow me to speak my mind to him, for he is a proud man and I doubt not with proper goading, he may be urged to a fresh onset."

Rodolph paid no attention to the interruption, but continued:

"If you will give me your word that you will return to Cochem, you may pass unharmed, and we will not attempt to molest you further."

The Count, however, made no reply, but sat like a statue on his black horse, gazing on his fallen comrades and meditating on the changed situation. Then he groped in a receptacle that hung by his saddle and drew forth, not a new weapon, as the archer, peering at him, suspected, but a filmy web that glittered like an array of diamonds. This, removing his gauntlets, he clasped about his neck, fastening it to the lower part of his helmet, shaking the folds over his shoulders like a cape.

"Fine chain armour of Milan steel," murmured the archer, seemingly hovering between anxiety regarding the defensive qualities of the new accoutrement and delight at the thought that the Count was again about to venture himself against them. With a clank of iron on iron the warrior brought down his barred visor over his face, and, drawing on his gauntlets which during these preparations had rested on his saddle bow, grasped his lance and lowered it, presenting now no pregnable point of his person to the flying arrow.

"By Saint George," cried the archer, "I would fain take service with that man. He displays a persistence in combat which warms my heart towards him."

But the softness of the archer's heart did not cause him to take any precaution the less, for he drew out a sheaf of arrows, selecting carefully three that seemed to be thinner at the point than the others. Two of these he placed in his mouth, letting their feathered ends stick out far to his left, so that his bow arm was free from their interference; the third he notched, with some minuteness, on the string.

"My Lord, I must shoot now," he mumbled with his encumbered mouth, looking anxiously at Rodolph, who in turn was viewing no less anxiously the silent preparations of Bertrich. The Count, however, was in little hurry to begin, apparently wishing to satisfy himself that he had neglected no expedient necessary for his own safety.

"There is no help for it," said the Emperor. "Do your best, and Heaven speed the shaft."

The bowman twanged the string, bending forward eagerly to watch the fate of his arrow. The shaft sang an ever lowering song, as it flew, falling fairly against the bars of the visor with an impact that rang back to them, palpably penetrating an interstice of the helmet, for it hung there in plain sight. The Count angrily shook his head, like an impatient horse tormented by the bite of a fly, but he sat steady, which showed the archer there was an arrow wasted. The toss of his head did not dislodge the missile, and the Count, with a sweep of his gauntlet, broke it away and cast it contemptuously from him.

"Alas!" groaned the archer, fitting the second to the string, "it was the thinnest bolt I had."

Count Bertrich waited not for the second, but came eagerly to meet it, bending down as a man does who faces a storm – levelling lance and striking spur. The horse gallantly responded. The second arrow struck the helmet and fell shivered, the third was aimed at the chain armour on the neck, and striking it, glanced into the wood, disappearing among the thick foliage. Still Bertrich came on unchecked, raising his head now to see through the apertures of his visor to the transfixing of the archer, who, well knowing there was but scant time for further experiment, hastily plucked a fourth arrow from his quiver, and, without taking aim, launched it with a wail of grief at the charger, driving the arrow up to its very wing in the horse's neck just above the steel breastplate. The horse, with a roar of terror, fell forward on its knees, its rider's lance thrusting point into the earth some distance ahead, whereupon Bertrich, like an acrobat vaulting on a pole, described an arc in the air and fell, with jangling clash of armour, at the feet of the Emperor, relaxing his limbs and lying there with a smothered moan.