The Strong Arm by Robert Barr

R >> Robert Barr >> The Strong Arm

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22

The Emperor seemed favourable to the selection of Cochem as a
convenient place of meeting, and the nobles were nonplussed, because
they could not give their real reason for wishing to avoid it, and the
Archbishop continued to press the claims of Cochem as being of equal
advantage to all.

"It is not as though I asked them to come to Treves," said the
Archbishop, "for that would entail a long journey upon those living
near the Rhine, and in going to Cochem I shall myself be called upon to
travel as far as those who come from Coblentz."

The Emperor said:

"It seems a most reasonable selection, and, unless some strong
objection be urged, I shall confirm the choice of Cochem."

The nobles were all struck with apprehension at these words, and knew
not what to say, when suddenly, to their great delight, up spoke the
stalwart Count of Winneburg.

"Your Majesty," he said, "my Castle stands but a short league from
Cochem, and has a Rittersaal as large as that in the pinnacled palace
owned by the Archbishop. It is equally convenient for all concerned,
and every gentleman is right welcome to its hospitality. My cellars are
well filled with good wine, and my larders are stocked with an
abundance of food. All that can be urged in favour of Cochem applies
with equal truth to the Schloss Winneburg. If, therefore, the members
of the Council will accept of my roof, it is theirs."

The nobles with universal enthusiasm cried:

"Yes, yes; Winneburg is the spot."

The Emperor smiled, for he well knew that his Lordship of Treves was
somewhat miserly in the dispensing of his hospitality. He preferred to
see his guests drink the wine of a poor vintage rather than tap the
cask which contained the yield of a good year. His Majesty smiled,
because he imagined his nobles thought of the replenishing of their
stomachs, whereas they were concerned for the safety of their necks;
but seeing them unanimous in their choice, he nominated Schloss
Winneburg as the place of meeting, and so it remained.

When, therefore, the Archbishop of Treves set himself down in the ample
chair, to which those present had, without a dissenting vote, elected
Count Winneburg, distrust at once took hold of them, for they were ever
jealous of the encroachments of their over-lord. The Archbishop glared
angrily around him, but no man moved from where he stood.

"I ask you to be seated. The Council is called to order."

Baron Beilstein cleared his throat and spoke, seemingly with some
hesitation, but nevertheless with a touch of obstinacy in his voice:

"May we beg a little more time for Count Winneburg? He has doubtless
gone farther afield than he intended when he set out. I myself know
something of the fascination of the chase, and can easily understand
that it wipes out all remembrance of lesser things."

"Call you this Council a lesser thing?" demanded the Archbishop. "We
have waited an hour already, and I shall not give the laggard a moment
more."

"Indeed, my Lord, then I am sorry to hear it. I would not willingly be
the man who sits in Winneburg's chair, should he come suddenly upon
us."

"Is that a threat?" asked the Archbishop, frowning.

"It is not a threat, but rather a warning. I am a neighbour of the
Count, and know him well, and whatever his virtues may be, calm
patience is not one of them. If time hangs heavily, may I venture to
suggest that your Lordship remove the prohibition you proclaimed when
the Count's servants offered us wine, and allow me to act temporarily
as host, ordering the flagons to be filled, which I think will please
Winneburg better when he comes, than finding another in his chair."

"This is no drunken revel, but a Council of State," said the Archbishop
sternly; "and I drink no wine when the host is not here to proffer it.

"Indeed, my Lord," said Beilstein, with a shrug of the shoulders, "some
of us are so thirsty that we care not who makes the offer, so long as
the wine be sound."

What reply the Archbishop would have made can only be conjectured, for
at that moment the door burst open and in came Count Winneburg, a head
and shoulders above any man in that room, and huge in proportion.

"My Lords, my Lords," he cried, his loud voice booming to the rafters,
"how can I ask you to excuse such a breach of hospitality. What! Not a
single flagon of wine in the room? This makes my deep regret almost
unbearable. Surely, Beilstein, you might have amended that, if only for
the sake of an old and constant comrade. Truth, gentlemen, until I
heard the bell of the castle toll, I had no thought that this was the
day of our meeting, and then, to my despair, I found myself an hour
away, and have ridden hard to be among you."

Then, noticing there was something ominous in the air, and an
unaccustomed silence to greet his words, he looked from one to the
other, and his eye, travelling up the table, finally rested upon the
Archbishop in his chair. Count Winneburg drew himself up, his ruddy
face colouring like fire. Then, before any person could reach out hand
to check him, or move lip in counsel, the Count, with a fierce oath,
strode to the usurper, grasped him by the shoulders, whirled his heels
high above his head, and flung him like a sack of corn to the smooth
floor, where the unfortunate Archbishop, huddled in a helpless heap,
slid along the polished surface as if he were on ice. The fifteen
nobles stood stock-still, appalled at this unexpected outrage upon
their over-lord. Winneburg seated himself in the chair with an emphasis
that made even the solid table rattle, and bringing down his huge fist
crashing on the board before him, shouted:

"Let no man occupy my chair, unless he has weight enough to remain
there."

Baron Beilstein, and one or two others, hurried to the prostrate
Archbishop and assisted him to his feet.

"Count Winneburg," said Beilstein, "you can expect no sympathy from us
for such an act of violence in your own hall."

"I want none of your sympathy," roared the angry Count. "Bestow it on
the man now in your hands who needs it. If you want the Archbishop of
Treves to act as your chairman, elect him to that position and welcome.
I shall have no usurpation in my Castle. While I am president I sit in
the chair, and none other."

There was a murmur of approval at this, for one and all were deeply
suspicious of the Archbishop's continued encroachments.

His Lordship of Treves once more on his feet, his lips pallid, and his
face colourless, looked with undisguised hatred at his assailant.
"Winneburg," he said slowly, "you shall apologise abjectly for this
insult, and that in presence of the nobles of this Empire, or I will
see to it that not one stone of this castle remains upon another."

"Indeed," said the Count nonchalantly, "I shall apologise to you, my
Lord, when you have apologised to me for taking my place. As to the
castle, it is said that the devil assisted in the building of it, and
it is quite likely that through friendship for you, he may preside over
its destruction."

The Archbishop made no reply, but, bowing haughtily to the rest of the
company, who looked glum enough, well knowing that the episode they had
witnessed meant, in all probability, red war let loose down the smiling
valley of the Moselle, left the Rittersaal.

"Now that the Council is duly convened in regular order," said Count
Winneburg, when the others had seated themselves round his table, "what
questions of state come up for discussion?"

For a moment there was no answer to this query, the delegates looking
at one another speechless. But at last Baron Beilstein shrugging his
shoulder, said drily:

"Indeed, my Lord Count, I think the time for talk is past, and I
suggest that we all look closely to the strengthening of our walls,
which are likely to be tested before long by the Lion of Treves. It was
perhaps unwise, Winneburg, to have used the Archbishop so roughly, he
being unaccustomed to athletic exercise; but, let the consequences be
what they may, I, for one, will stand by you."

"And I; and I; and I; and I," cried the others, with the exception of
the Knight of Ehrenburg, who, living as he did near the town of
Coblentz, was learned in the law, and not so ready as some of his
comrades to speak first and think afterwards.

"My good friends," cried their presiding officer, deeply moved by this
token of their fealty, "what I have done I have done, be it wise or the
reverse, and the results must fall on my head alone. No words of mine
can remove the dust of the floor from the Archbishop's cloak, so if he
comes, let him come. I will give him as hearty a welcome as it is in my
power to render. All I ask is fair play, and those who stand aside
shall see a good fight. It is not right that a hasty act of mine should
embroil the peaceful country side, so if Treves comes on I shall meet
him alone here in my castle. But, nevertheless, I thank you all for
your offers of help; that is all, except the Knight of Ehrenburg, whose
tender of assistance, if made, has escaped my ear."

The Knight of Ehrenburg had, up to that moment, been studying the
texture of the oaken table on which his flagon sat. Now he looked up
and spoke slowly.

"I made no proffer of help," he said, "because none will be needed, I
believe, so far as the Archbishop of Treves is concerned. The Count a
moment ago said that all he wanted was fair play, but that is just what
he has no right to expect from his present antagonist. The Archbishop
will make no attempt on this castle; he will act much more subtly than
that. The Archbishop will lay the redress of his quarrel upon the
shoulders of the Emperor, and it is the oncoming of the Imperial troops
you have to fear, and not an invasion from Treves. Against the forces
of the Emperor we are powerless, united or divided. Indeed, his Majesty
may call upon us to invest this castle, whereupon, if we refuse, we are
rebels who have broken our oaths."

"What then is there left for me to do?" asked the Count, dismayed at
the coil in which he had involved himself.

"Nothing," advised the Knight of Ehrenburg, "except to apologise
abjectly to the Archbishop, and that not too soon, for his Lordship may
refuse to accept it. But when he formally demands it, I should render
it to him on his own terms, and think myself well out of an awkward
position."

The Count of Winneburg rose from his seat, and lifting his clinched
fist high above his head, shook it at the timbers of the roof.

"That," he cried, "will I never do, while one stone of Winneburg stands
upon another."

At this, those present, always with the exception of the Knight of
Ehrenburg, sprang to their feet, shouting:

"Imperial troops or no, we stand by the Count of Winneburg!"

Some one flashed forth a sword, and instantly a glitter of blades was
in the air, while cheer after cheer rang to the rafters. When the
uproar had somewhat subsided, the Knight of Ehrenburg said calmly:

"My castle stands nearest to the capital, and will be the first to
fall, but, nevertheless, hoping to do my shouting when the war is
ended, I join my forces with those of the rest of you."

And amidst this unanimity, and much emptying of flagons, the assemblage
dissolved, each man with his escort taking his way to his own
stronghold, perhaps to con more soberly, next day, the problem that
confronted him. They were fighters all, and would not flinch when the
pinch came, whatever the outcome.

Day followed day with no sign from Treves. Winneburg employed the time
in setting his house in order to be ready for whatever chanced, and
just as the Count was beginning to congratulate himself that his deed
was to be without consequences, there rode up to his castle gates a
horseman, accompanied by two lancers, and on the newcomer's breast were
emblazoned the Imperial arms. Giving voice to his horn, the gates were
at once thrown open to him, and, entering, he demanded instant speech
with the Count.

"My Lord, Count Winneburg," he said, when that giant had presented
himself, "His Majesty the Emperor commands me to summon you to the
court at Frankfort."

"Do you take me as prisoner, then?" asked the Count.

"Nothing was said to me of arrest. I was merely commissioned to deliver
to you the message of the Emperor."

"What are your orders if I refuse to go?"

A hundred armed men stood behind the Count, a thousand more were within
call of the castle bell; two lances only were at the back of the
messenger; but the strength of the broadcast empire was betokened by
the symbol on his breast.

"My orders are to take back your answer to his Imperial Majesty,"
replied the messenger calmly.

The Count, though hot-headed, was no fool, and he stood for a moment
pondering on the words which the Knight of Ehrenburg had spoken on
taking his leave:

"Let not the crafty Archbishop embroil you with the Emperor."

This warning had been the cautious warrior's parting advice to him.

"If you will honour my humble roof," said the Count slowly, "by taking
refreshment beneath it, I shall be glad of your company afterwards to
Frankfort, in obedience to his Majesty's commands."

The messenger bowed low, accepted the hospitality, and together they
made way across the Moselle, and along the Roman road to the capital.

Within the walls of Frankfort the Count was lodged in rooms near the
palace, to which his conductor guided him, and, although it was still
held that he was not a prisoner, an armed man paced to and fro before
his door all night. The day following his arrival, Count Winneburg was
summoned to the Court, and in a large ante-room found himself one of a
numerous throng, conspicuous among them all by reason of his great
height and bulk.

The huge hall was hung with tapestry, and at the further end were heavy
curtains, at each edge of which stood half-a-dozen armoured men, the
detachments being under command of two gaily-uniformed officers.
Occasionally the curtains were parted by menials who stood there to
perform that duty, and high nobles entered, or came out, singly and in
groups. Down the sides of the hall were packed some hundreds of people,
chattering together for the most part, and gazing at those who passed
up and down the open space in the centre.

The Count surmised that the Emperor held his Court in whatever
apartment was behind the crimson curtains. He felt the eyes of the
multitude upon him, and shifted uneasily from one foot to another,
cursing his ungainliness, ashamed of the tingling of the blood in his
cheeks. He was out of plaice in this laughing, talking crowd,
experiencing the sensations of an uncouth rustic suddenly thrust into
the turmoil of a metropolis, resenting bitterly the supposed sneers
that were flung at him. He suspected that the whispering and the
giggling were directed towards himself, and burned to draw his sword
and let these popinjays know for once what a man could do. As a matter
of fact it was a buzz of admiration at his stature which went up when
he entered, but the Count had so little of self-conceit in his soul
that he never even guessed the truth.

Two nobles passing near him, he heard one of them say distinctly:

"That is the fellow who threw the Archbishop over his head," while the
other, glancing at him, said:

"By the Coat, he seems capable of upsetting the three of them, and I,
for one, wish more power to his muscle should he attempt it."

The Count shrank against the tapestried walls, hot with anger, wishing
himself a dwarf that he might escape the gaze of so many inquiring
eyes. Just as the scrutiny was becoming unbearable, his companion
touched him on the elbow, and said in a low voice:

"Count Winneburg, follow me."

He held aside the tapestry at the back of the Count, and that noble,
nothing loth, disappeared from view behind it.

Entering a narrow passage-way, they traversed it until they came to a
closed door, at each lintel of which stood a pikeman, fronted with a
shining breastplate of metal. The Count's conductor knocked gently at
the closed door, then opened it, holding it so that the Count could
pass in, and when he had done so, the door closed softly behind him. To
his amazement, Winneburg saw before him, standing at the further end of
the small room, the Emperor Rudolph, entirely alone. The Count was
about to kneel awkwardly, when his liege strode forward and prevented
him.

"Count Winneburg," he said, "from what I hear of you, your elbow-joints
are more supple than those of your knees, therefore let us be thankful
that on this occasion there is no need to use either. I see you are
under the mistaken impression that the Emperor is present. Put that
thought from your mind, and regard me simply as Lord Rudolph--one
gentleman wishing to have some little conversation with another."

"Your Majesty--" stammered the Count.

"I have but this moment suggested that you forget that title, my Lord.
But, leaving aside all question of salutation, let us get to the heart
of the matter, for I think we are both direct men. You are summoned to
Frankfort because that high and mighty Prince of the Church, the
Archbishop of Treves, has made complaint to the Emperor against you
alleging what seems to be an unpardonable indignity suffered by him at
your hands."

"Your Majesty--my Lord, I mean," faltered the Count. "The indignity was
of his own seeking; he sat down in my chair, where he had no right to
place himself, and I--I--persuaded him to relinquish his position."

"So I am informed--that is to say, so his Majesty has been informed,"
replied Rudolph, a slight smile hovering round his finely chiselled
lips. "We are not here to comment upon any of the Archbishop's
delinquencies, but, granting, for the sake of argument, that he had
encroached upon your rights, nevertheless, he was under your roof, and
honestly, I fail to see that you were justified in cracking his heels
against the same."

"Well, your Majesty--again I beg your Majesty's pardon--"

"Oh, no matter," said the Emperor, "call me what you like; names
signify little."

"If then the Emperor," continued the Count, "found an intruder sitting
on his throne, would he like it, think you?"

"His feeling, perhaps, would be one of astonishment, my Lord Count, but
speaking for the Emperor, I am certain that he would never lay hands on
the usurper, or treat him like a sack of corn in a yeoman's barn."

The Count laughed heartily at this, and was relieved to find that this
quitted him of the tension which the great presence had at first
inspired.

"Truth to tell, your Majesty, I am sorry I touched him. I should have
requested him to withdraw, but my arm has always been more prompt in
action than my tongue, as you can readily see since I came into this
room."

"Indeed, Count, your tongue does you very good service," continued the
Emperor, "and I am glad to have from you an expression of regret. I
hope, therefore, that you will have no hesitation in repeating that
declaration to the Archbishop of Treves."

"Does your Majesty mean that I am to apologise to him?"

"Yes," answered the Emperor.

There was a moment's pause, then the Count said slowly:

"I will surrender to your Majesty my person, my sword, my castle, and
my lands. I will, at your word, prostrate myself at your feet, and
humbly beg pardon for any offence I have committed against you, but to
tell the Archbishop I am sorry when I am not, and to cringe before him
and supplicate his grace, well, your Majesty, as between man and man,
I'll see him damned first."

Again the Emperor had some difficulty in preserving that rigidity of
expression which he had evidently resolved to maintain.

"Have you ever met a ghost, my Lord Count?" he asked.

Winneburg crossed himself devoutly, a sudden pallor sweeping over his
face.

"Indeed, your Majesty, I have seen strange things, and things for which
there was no accounting; but it has been usually after a contest with
the wine flagon, and at the time my head was none of the clearest, so I
could not venture to say whether they were ghosts or no."

"Imagine, then, that in one of the corridors of your castle at midnight
you met a white-robed transparent figure, through whose form your sword
passed scathlessly. What would you do, my Lord?"

"Indeed, your Majesty, I would take to my heels, and bestow myself
elsewhere as speedily as possible."

"Most wisely spoken and you, who are no coward, who fear not to face
willingly in combat anything natural, would, in certain circumstances,
trust to swift flight for your protection. Very well, my Lord, you are
now confronted with something against which your stout arm is as
unavailing as it would be if an apparition stood in your path. There is
before you the spectre of subtlety. Use arm instead of brain, and you
are a lost man.

"The Archbishop expects no apology. He looks for a stalwart, stubborn
man, defying himself and the Empire combined. You think, perhaps, that
the Imperial troops will surround your castle, and that you may stand a
siege. Now the Emperor would rather have you fight with him than
against him, but in truth there will be no contest. Hold to your
refusal, and you will be arrested before you leave the precincts of
this palace. You will be thrown into a dungeon, your castle and your
lands sequestered; and I call your attention to the fact that your
estate adjoins the possessions of the Archbishop at Cochem, and Heaven
fend me for hinting that his Lordship casts covetous eyes over his
boundary; yet, nevertheless, he will probably not refuse to accept your
possessions in reparation for the insult bestowed upon him. Put it this
way if you like. Would you rather pleasure me or pleasure the
Archbishop of Treves?"

"There is no question as to that," answered the Count.

"Then it will please me well if you promise to apologise to his
Lordship the Archbishop of Treves. That his Lordship will be equally
pleased, I very much doubt."

"Will your Majesty command me in open Court to apologise?"

"I shall request you to do so. I must uphold the Feudal law."

"Then I beseech your Majesty to command me, for I am a loyal subject,
and will obey."

"God give me many such," said the Emperor fervently, "and bestow upon
me the wisdom to deserve them!"

He extended his hand to the Count, then touched a bell on the table
beside him. The officer who had conducted Winneburg entered silently,
and acted as his guide back to the thronged apartment they had left.
The Count saw that the great crimson curtains were now looped up,
giving a view of the noble interior of the room beyond, thronged with
the notables of the Empire. The hall leading to it was almost deserted,
and the Count, under convoy of two lancemen, himself nearly as tall as
their weapons, passed in to the Throne Room, and found all eyes turned
upon him.

He was brought to a stand before an elevated dais, the centre of which
was occupied by a lofty throne, which, at the moment, was empty. Near
it, on the elevation, stood the three Archbishops of Treves, Cologne,
and Mayence, on the other side the Count Palatine of the Rhine with the
remaining three Electors. The nobles of the realm occupied places
according to their degree.

As the stalwart Count came in, a buzz of conversation swept over the
hall like a breeze among the leaves of a forest. A malignant scowl
darkened the countenance of the Archbishop of Treves, but the faces of
Cologne and Mayence expressed a certain Christian resignation regarding
the contumely which had been endured by their colleague. The Count
stood stolidly where he was placed, and gazed at the vacant throne,
turning his eyes neither to the right nor the left.

Suddenly there was a fanfare of trumpets, and instant silence smote the
assembly. First came officers of the Imperial Guard in shining armour,
then the immediate advisers and councillors of his Majesty, and last of
all, the Emperor himself, a robe of great richness clasped at his
throat, and trailing behind him; the crown of the Empire upon his head.
His face was pale and stern, and he looked what he was, a monarch, and
a man. The Count rubbed his eyes, and could scarcely believe that he
stood now in the presence of one who had chatted amiably with him but a
few moments before.

The Emperor sat on his throne and one of his councillors whispered for
some moments to him; then the Emperor said, in a low, clear voice, that
penetrated to the farthest corner of the vast apartment:

"Is the Count of Winneburg here?"

"Yes, your Majesty."

"Let him stand forward."

The Count strode two long steps to the front, and stood there, red-
faced and abashed. The officer at his side whispered:

"Kneel, you fool, kneel."

And the Count got himself somewhat clumsily down upon his knees, like
an elephant preparing to receive his burden. The face of the Emperor
remained impassive, and he said harshly:

"Stand up."

The Count, once more upon his feet, breathed a deep sigh of
satisfaction at finding himself again in an upright posture.

"Count of Winneburg," said the Emperor slowly, "it is alleged that upon
the occasion of the last meeting of the Council of State for the
Moselle valley, you, in presence of the nobles there assembled, cast a
slight upon your over-lord, the Archbishop of Treves. Do you question
the statement?"

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22