LITMIR.BIZ

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at the proud and beautiful girl, who rode on the other side of the Archbishop, heedless of glance or conversation.

      When the procession had passed, the young Emperor sat looking after it, bonnet still in hand, with an absorbed expression on his face. And well might he gaze long at the iron Archbishop, for he had come on a weary journey to see that potentate, and judge for himself what manner of man he might be who was reported to have remarked to his brother Archbishop of Cologne, when he cast the vote which helped to make Rodolph an emperor, that the young man was said to be a romantic fool, who would be the more easily led by their Lordships of Treves and Cologne, than any older and more seasoned noble. Therefore had it been given out that the new Emperor was gone to smite the Saracen, whereas he had merely journeyed from Frankfort to Treves in disguise, to look upon a man who might prove more formidable to his peace than the fiercest Saracen roaming the plains of the East. Siegfried, who, though so much older, was Rodolph's confidential friend, seemed anxious to know the estimate the Emperor had formed of his probable adversary.

      "A hard, stern face," said Siegfried. "A cold friend and an implacable enemy, to judge by the glance I got of him. What think you?"

      "An adorable face," murmured the young man, absently, still gazing after the rapidly disappearing cortège. "A face to dream over; to die for. Who is she, Siegfried?"

      "The Countess Tekla," answered Siegfried, somewhat briefly and grimly, for here their expedition, not without peril, undertaken against his strongly urged advice, was turned from its purpose, at this critical moment, by a passing glimpse of a pretty face. Perhaps, after all, the Archbishop had made the remark attributed to him, and Rodolph seemed determined on the most inopportune occasion, to give colour to it.

      "But who is she?" demanded the Emperor, covering again.

      "The Countess Tekla is the ward of the Archbishop. Her father died in his service and is said to have been the only man Arnold von Isenberg ever had any affection for. The sole living relative she has, so far as known to me, is Count Heinrich, surnamed the Black, of Castle Thuron, near Coblentz. Her mother was sister to the Black Count."

      "That marauder! No wonder she was not left his ward."

      "There was little love lost between her father and her uncle. 'Tis said Heinrich tried to get possession of Tekla and has even had the temerity to threaten an attack upon the Archbishop because of her, but he is hardly likely to do more than bluster, for, however much the Count may lack common honesty, he is not devoid of common sense, and well knows that Arnold could crush him in his castle as a snail is crushed in its shell under an iron heel."

      "The Countess Tekla," murmured the Emperor, more to himself than to his companion. "She is the most beautiful vision that ever floated before the eyes of man."

      "She is betrothed to Count Bertrich, who rode at the Archbishop's left hand," said Siegfried, coldly.

      "What! To that florid image carved with a broadsword? I cannot believe it. 'Twould be sacrilege."

      "Rodolph, since you allow me to call you so," replied Siegfried, solemnly, "I have also heard that you yourself are hardly free."

      "It is false," cried the young man, hotly. "I am pledged to none. Such thought is utterly baseless. The Princess herself would be the first to disclaim it."

      "I mentioned no one."

      "Perhaps not. 'Tis false nevertheless."

      Two pikes, crossed, barred their entrance under the archway of the gate.

      "Where from?"

      "Frankfort."

      "Your purpose in Treves?"

      "We are two silk merchants."

      "Your papers."

      Siegfried handed down the documents to the officer who demanded them. He scrutinised them closely, and, apparently satisfied, returned them.

      "What news from Frankfort? How fares our new Emperor?" he asked.

      "He has betaken himself to the Holy Wars," answered Siegfried.

      "By the Coat then, and are there not blows enough for him in Germany without going abroad for them? I heard he was more gallant than soldier."

      "It is not true," said Siegfried, with some sternness.

      "Soldier and gallant too, my friend," interjected Rodolph, fearing that Siegfried's loyalty might lead him to indulge in censure which might prove impolitic on the part of those seeking entrance, to those who were the guardians of a gate. "Surely the two trades have gone hand in hand before now?"

      "Aye, and will again," laughed the officer, twirling his moustache.

      Baron Siegfried von Brunfels now led the way through a narrow street, riding confidently, like a man well acquainted with his direction. Avoiding the main thoroughfare which led to the north gate, he turned into what seemed little more than a lane, and now the horsemen were compelled to travel in file, as the way was not broad enough for two horses conveniently to walk abreast. Neither were there houses on each side, as was the case with the street they had just left, but instead, blank walls, such as might surround convents or monasteries, as indeed they did. So high were these enclosing barriers, that Rodolph on his horse could not see over them, and he had the feeling of a man making his way along the deep bottom of a huge ditch, which impression was intensified by the gathering gloom of approaching night. The lane, continually bending toward the right of the riders, came at last to what was quite evidently the city wall, and on this abutted the lesser wall of the monastery grounds on the right, while that on the left ran for some distance parallel to the more lofty ring of stout masonry which encircled the city, leaving a narrow space between. The ringing sound of the iron-shod hoofs on the stone causeway echoed from the ramparts in the deep stillness. In the distance a large mansion built against the city wall, stood across the way and ended the lane. The windows were shuttered and heavily barred with iron, giving the building a forbidding, prison-like appearance. The lane terminated at a strong arched gate, with heavy double doors of oak, iron-bolted, in one leaf of which was a shuttered grating that, being lifted, enabled those within to see all who approached. The bastion to the left ended against the side of this sinister house.

      "By the gods, Baron," cried the Emperor, "it is well I have confidence in you, for never was man guided along a more death-trap road to such a sepulchre-looking ending. What fortress have we here, Siegfried? This is no inn, surely."

      The Baron half turned in his saddle, and spoke in a voice so low that its tone alone was a hint against unnecessary conversation.

      "It is my house," he said. "You will be better served and less spied upon than at an inn."

      A moment later the Baron, stopping at the archway, but without dismounting, reached out his hand and pulled an iron rod which had a loop lower down for the convenience of one on foot. The faint clanging of a bell, jangling far within, could be heard. After the echoes died away there was a perceptible interval, then the shutter behind the grating was noiselessly lifted with some caution, and a pair of eyes appeared and disappeared at the iron network. Instantly the gates were flung open and were as speedily closed when the horsemen had ridden into a courtyard.

      Having parted with their tired steeds, host and guest, hardly less weary with their ride, mounted one broad stairway and two narrower ones, then walked along a passage that led them to a door, on opening which, Siegfried conducted the Emperor into a large square apartment lighted by two windows heavily barred outside. The inside shutters were open, and Rodolph looked over an extensive landscape bounded by red cliffs and green hills, at the foot of which flowed the rapid Moselle. Although the sun had gone down and the view was growing indistinct in the twilight, Rodolph went to one of the windows and gazed admiringly upon the prospect. The moon, nearly at the full, had risen, and was already flooding the scene with her silvery light.

      "You have a pleasant outlook here, Siegfried," said the Emperor.

      "Yes, and a safe one."

      "A safe one?" echoed Rodolph, inquiringly.

      "You see this house is a story higher than the city wall. A rope flung from that window gives a hurried man safe conduct to the open country without the necessity of passing through a gate."

      "True,"

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