The Strong Arm by Robert Barr

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"Were you sent by your uncle to allay my suspicion?

"No, my Lord. I thought that a hint of the truth being given, Nature
would come to the assistance of mutual recognition. Such has been the
case between my lady and her son, but I see that you are still
unconvinced."

"For my sins, I know something of the wickedness of this world, a
knowledge from which her purity has protected the Countess. You
believe that Wilhelm is my son?"

"I have never said so, my Lord."

"What you did say was that you had taken an oath. You are too young
and doubtless too innocent to be a party to any plot, but you may have
been the tool of an unscrupulous man, who knew the oath would be broken
when the strain of a strong affection was brought to bear upon it."

"Yet, my Lord, I kept my oath, although I saw my--my--"

The girl hesitated and blushed, but finally spoke up bravely:

"I saw my lover led to his destruction. If Wilhelm is my cousin, then
did his father take a desperate chance in trusting first, to my escape
from the camp, and second to my perjury. You endow him with more than
human foresight, my Lord."

"He builded on your love for Wilhelm, which he had seen growing under
his eye before either you or the lad had suspicion of its existence. I
know the man, and he is a match for Satan, his master."

"But Satan has been discomfited ere now by the angels of light, and
even by holy men, if legend tells truly. I have little knowledge of
the world, as you have said, but the case appears to me one of the
simplest. If my uncle wished the bitterest revenge on you, what could
be more terrible than cause you to be the executioner of your own son?
The vengeance, however, to be complete, depends on his being able to
place before you incontrovertible proof that you were the father of the
victim. Send, therefore, a messenger to him, one from Gudenfels, who
knows nothing of what has happened in this castle of Schonburg, and who
is therefore unable to disclose, even if forced to confess, that
Wilhelm is alive. Let the messenger inform my uncle that his son is no
more, which is true enough, and then await the Outlaw's reply. And
meanwhile let me venture to warn you, my Lord, that it would be well to
conceal your disbelief from Wilhelm, for he is high-spirited, and if he
gets but an inkling that you distrust him, he will depart; for not all
your possessions will hold your son if he once learns that you doubt
him, so you are like to find yourself childless again, if your present
mood masters you much longer."

The Count drew a deep sigh, then roused himself and seemed to shake off
the influence that enchained him.

"Thank you, my girl," he cried, with something of the old ring in his
voice, "I shall do as you advise, and if this embassy results as you
say, you will ever find your staunchest friend in me."

He held out his hand to Elsa, and departed to his other castle of
Gudenfels on the opposite side of the Rhine. From thence he sent a
messenger who had no knowledge of what was happening in Schonburg.

When at last the messenger returned from the Outlaw's camp, he brought
with him a wailing woman and grim tidings that he feared to deliver.
Thrice his lordship demanded his account, the last time with such
sternness that the messenger quailed before him.

"My Lord," he stammered at last, "a frightful thing has taken place--
would that I had died before it was told to me. The young man your
lordship hanged was no other than----'

"Well, why do you pause? You were going to say he was my own son. What
proof does the Outlaw offer that such was indeed the case?"

"Alas! my Lord, the proof seems clear enough. Here with me is young
Lord Wilhelm's nurse, whose first neglect led to his abduction, and who
fled to the forest after him, and was never found. She followed him to
the Outlaw's camp, and was there kept prisoner by him until she was at
last given charge of the lad, under oath that she would teach him to
forget who he was, the fierce Outlaw threatening death to both woman
and child were his orders disobeyed. She has come willingly with me
hoping to suffer death now that one she loved more than son has died
through her first fault."

Then to the amazement of the pallid messenger the Count laughed aloud
and called for Wilhelm, who, when he was brought, clasped the trembling
old woman in his arms, overjoyed to see her again and eager to learn
news of the camp. How was the stout Gottlieb? Had the messenger seen
Captain Heinrich? and so on.

"Indeed, my young Lord," answered the overjoyed woman "there was such
turmoil in the camp that I was glad to be quit of it with unbroken
bones. When the Outlaw proclaimed that you were hanged, there was
instant rebellion among his followers, who thought that your capture
was merely a trick to be speedily amended, being intended to form a
laughing matter to your discomfiture when you returned. They swore
they would have torn down Schonburg with their bare hands rather than
have left you in jeopardy, had they known their retreat imperilled your
life."

"The brave lads!" cried the young man in a glow of enthusiasm, "and
here have I been maligning them for cowards! What was the outcome?"

"That I do not know, my Lord, being glad to escape from the ruffians
with unfractured head."

The result of the embassy was speedily apparent at Schonburg. Two days
later, in the early morning, the custodians at the gate were startled
by the shrill Outlaw yell, which had on so many occasions carried
terror with it into the hearts of Rhine strongholds.

"Come out, Hangman of Schonburg!" they shouted, "come out, murderer of
a defenceless prisoner. Come out, before we drag you forth, for the
rope is waiting for your neck and the gallows tree is waiting for the
rope."

Count Herbert was first on the battlements, and curtly he commanded his
men not to launch bolt at the invaders, knowing the outlaws mistakenly
supposed him to be the executioner of their former comrade. A moment
later young Wilhelm himself appeared on the wall above the gate, and,
lifting his arms above his head raised a great shout of joy at seeing
there collected his old companions, calling this one or that by name as
he recognised them among the seething, excited throng. There was an
instant's cessation of the clamour, then the outlaws sent forth a cheer
that echoed from all the hills around. They brandished their weapons
aloft, and cheered again and again, the garrison of the castle, now
bristling along the battlements, joining in the tumult with strident
voices. Gottlieb advanced some distance toward the gate, and holding up
his hand for silence addressed Wilhelm.

"Young master," he cried, "we have deposed von Weithoff, and would have
hanged him, but that he escaped during the night, fled to Mayence and
besought protection of the Archbishop. If you will be our leader we
will sack Mayence and hang the Archbishop from his own cathedral
tower."

"That can I hardly do, Gottlieb, as a messenger has been sent to the
Archbishop asking him to come to Schonburg and marry Elsa to me. He
might take our invasion as an unfriendly act and refuse to perform the
ceremony."

Gottlieb scratched his head as one in perplexity, seeing before him a
question of etiquette that he found difficult to solve. At last he
said:

"What need of Archbishop? You and Elsa have been brought up among us,
therefore confer honour on our free company by being married by our own
Monk who has tied many a knot tight enough to hold the most wayward of
our band. The aisles of the mighty oaks are more grand than the
cathedral at Mayence or the great hall of Schonburg."

"Indeed I am agreed, if Elsa is willing. We will be married first in
the forest and then by the Archbishop in the great hall of Schonburg."

"In such case there will be delay, for now that I bethink me, his
Lordship of Mayence has taken himself to Frankfort, where he is to meet
the Archbishops of Treves and Cologne who will presently journey to the
capital We were thinking of falling upon his reverence of Cologne as he
passed up the river, unless he comes with an escort too numerous for
us, which, alas! is most likely, so suspicious has the world grown."

"You will be wise not to meddle with the princes of the Church, be
their escorts large or small."

"Then, Master Wilhelm, be our leader, for we are likely to get into
trouble unless a man of quality is at our head."

Wilhelm breathed a deep sigh and glanced sideways at his father, who
stood some distance off, leaning on his two-handed sword, a silent
spectator of the meeting.

"The free life of the forest is no more for me, Gottlieb. My duty is
here in the castle of my forefathers, much though I grieve to part with
you."

This decision seemed to have a depressing effect on the outlaws within
hearing. Gottlieb retired, and the band consulted together for a time,
then their spokesman again advanced.

"Some while since," he began in dolorous tone, "we appealed to the
Emperor to pardon us, promising in such case to quit our life of
outlawry and take honest service with those nobles who needed stout
blades, but his Majesty sent reply that if we came unarmed to the
capital and tendered submission, he would be graciously pleased to hang
a round dozen of us to be selected by him, scourge the rest through the
streets of Frankfort and so bestow his clemency on such as survived.
This imperial tender we did not accept, as there was some uncertainty
regarding whose neck should feel the rope and whose back the scourge.
While all were willing to admit that more than a dozen of us sorely
needed hanging, yet each man seemed loath to claim precedence over his
neighbour in wickedness, and desired, in some sort, a voice in the
selection of the victims. But if you will accept our following, Master
Wilhelm, we will repair at once to Frankfort and make submission to his
Majesty the Emperor. The remnant being well scourged, will then return
to Schonburg to place themselves under your command."

"Are you willing then to hang for me, Gottlieb?"

"I hanker not after the hanging, but if hang we must, there is no man I
would rather hang for than Wilhelm, formerly of the forest, but now,
alas! of Schonburg. And so say they all without dissent, therefore the
unanimity must needs include the eleven other danglers."

"Then draw nigh, all of you, to the walls and hear my decision."

Gottlieb waving his arms, hailed the outlaws trooping to the walls,
and, his upraised hand bringing silence, Wilhelm spoke:

"Such sacrifice as you propose, I cannot accept, yet I dearly wish to
lead a band of men like you. Elsa and I shall be married by our ancient
woodland father in the forest and then by the Abbot of St. Werner in
the hall of Schonburg. We will make our wedding journey to Frankfort,
and you shall be our escort and our protectors."

There was for some moments such cheering at this that the young man was
compelled to pause in his address, and then as the outcry was again and
again renewed, he looked about for the cause and saw that Elsa and his
mother had taken places on the balcony which overlooked the animated
scene. The beautiful girl had been recognised by the rebels and she
waved her hand in response to their shouting.

"We will part company," resumed Wilhelm, "as near Frankfort as it is
safe for you to go, and my wife and I, accompanied by a score of men
from this castle, will enter the capital. I will beg your complete
pardon from his Majesty and if at first it is refused, I think Elsa
will have better success with the Empress, who may incline her imperial
husband toward clemency. All this I promise, providing I receive the
consent and support of my father, and I am not likely to be refused,
for he already knows the persuasive power of my dear betrothed when she
pleads for mercy."

"My consent and support I most willingly bestow," said the Count, with
a fervour that left no doubt of his sincerity.

The double marriage was duly solemnised, and Wilhelm, with his newly-
made wife, completed their journey to Frankfort, escorted until almost
within sight of the capital by five hundred and twenty men, but they
entered the gates of the city accompanied by only the score of
Schonburg men, the remaining five hundred concealing themselves in the
rough country, as they well knew how to do.

Neither Wilhelm nor Elsa had ever seen a large city before, and silence
fell upon them as they approached the western gate, for they were
coming upon a world strange to them, and Wilhelm felt an unaccustomed
elation stir within his breast, as if he were on the edge of some
adventure that might have an important bearing on his future. Instead
of passing peaceably through the gate as he had expected, the cavalcade
was halted after the two had ridden under the gloomy stone archway, and
the portcullis was dropped with a sudden clang, shutting out the twenty
riders who followed. One of several officers who sat on a stone bench
that fronted the guard-house within the walls, rose and came forward.

"What is your name and quality?" he demanded, gruffly.

"I am Wilhelm, son of Count von Schonberg."

"What is your business here in Frankfort?"

"My business relates to the emperor, and is not to be delivered to the
first underling who has the impudence to make inquiry," replied Wilhelm
in a haughty tone, which could scarcely be regarded, in the
circumstances, as diplomatic.

Nevertheless, the answer did not seem to be resented, but rather
appeared to have a subduing effect on the questioner, who turned, as if
for further instruction, to another officer, evidently his superior in
rank. The latter now rose, came forward, doffing his cap, and said:

"I understand your answer better than he to whom it was given, my
Lord."

"I am glad there is one man of sense at a gate of the capital," said
Wilhelm, with no relaxation of his dignity, but nevertheless bewildered
at the turn the talk had taken, seeing there was something underneath
all this which he did not comprehend, yet resolved to carry matters
with a high hand until greater clearness came to the situation.

"Will you order the portcullis raised and permit my men to follow me?"

"They are but temporarily detained until we decide where to quarter
them, my Lord. You know," he added, lowering his voice, "the necessity
for caution. Are you for the Archbishop of Treves, of Cologne, or of
Mayence?"

"I am from the district of Mayence, of course."

"And are you for the archbishop?"

"For the archbishop certainly. He would have honoured me by performing
our marriage ceremony had he not been called by important affairs of
state to the capital, as you may easily learn by asking him, now that
he is within these walls."

The officer bowed low with great obsequiousness and said:

"Your reply is more than sufficient, my Lord, and I trust you will
pardon the delay we have caused you. The men of Mayence are quartered
in the Leinwandhaus, where room will doubtless be made for your
followers.

"It is not necessary for me to draw upon the hospitality of the good
Archbishop, as I lodge in my father's town house near the palace, and
there is room within for the small escort I bring."

Again the officer bowed to the ground, and the portcullis being by this
time raised, the twenty horsemen came clattering under the archway, and
thus, without further molestation, they arrived at the house of the
Count von Schonburg.

"Elsa," said Wilhelm, when they were alone in their room, "there is
something wrong in this city. Men look with fear one upon another, and
pass on hurriedly, as if to avoid question. Others stand in groups at
the street corners and speak in whispers, glancing furtively over their
shoulders."

"Perhaps that is the custom in cities," replied Elsa.

"I doubt it. I have heard that townsmen are eager for traffic, inviting
all comers to buy, but here most of the shops are barred, and no
customers are solicited. They seem to me like people under a cloud of
fear. What can it be?"

"We are more used to the forest path than to city streets, Wilhelm.
They will all become familiar to us in a day or two, yet I feel as if I
could not get a full breath in these narrow streets and I long for the
trees already, but perhaps content will come with waiting."

"'Tis deeper than that. There is something ominous in the air. Noted
you not the questioning at the gate and its purport? They asked me if I
favoured Treves, or Cologne, or Mayence, but none inquired if I stood
loyal to the Emperor, yet I was entering his capital city of
Frankfort."

"Perhaps you will learn all from the Emperor when you see him,"
ventured Elsa.

"Perhaps," said Wilhelm.

The chamberlain of the von Schonburg household, who had supervised the
arrangements for the reception of the young couple, waited upon his
master in the evening and informed him that the Emperor would not be
visible for some days to come.

"He has gone into retreat, in the cloisters attached to the cathedral,
and it is the imperial will that none disturb him on worldly affairs.
Each day at the hour when the court assembles at the palace, the
Emperor hears exhortation from the pious fathers in the Wahlkapelle of
the cathedral; the chapel in which emperors are elected; these
exhortations pertaining to the ruling of the land, which his majesty
desires to govern justly and well.

"An excellent intention," commented the young man, with suspicion of
impatience in his tone, "but meanwhile, how are the temporal affairs of
the country conducted?"

"The Empress Brunhilda is for the moment the actual head of the state.
Whatever act of the ministers receives her approval, is sent by a monk
to the Emperor, who signs any document so submitted to him."

"Were her majesty an ambitious woman, such transference of power might
prove dangerous."

"She is an ambitious woman, but devoted to her husband, who, it perhaps
may be whispered, is more monk than king," replied the chamberlain
under his breath. "Her majesty has heard of your lordship's romantic
adventures and has been graciously pleased to command that you and her
ladyship, your wife, be presented to her to-morrow in presence of the
court."

"This is a command which it will be a delight to obey. But tell me,
what is wrong in this great town? There is a sinister feeling in the
air; uneasiness is abroad, or I am no judge of my fellow-creatures."

"Indeed, my Lord, you have most accurately described the situation. No
man knows what is about to happen. The gathering of the Electors is
regarded with the gravest apprehension. The Archbishop of Mayence, who
but a short time since crowned the Emperor at the great altar of the
cathedral, is herewith a thousand men at his back. The Count Palatine
of the Rhine is also within these walls with a lesser entourage. It is
rumoured that his haughty lordship, the Archbishop of Treves, will
reach Frankfort to-morrow, to be speedily followed by that eminent
Prince of the Church, the Archbishop of Cologne. Thus there will be
gathered in the capital four Electors, a majority of the college, a
conjunction that has not occurred for centuries, except on the death of
an emperor, necessitating the nomination and election of his
successor."

"But as the Emperor lives and there is no need of choosing another,
wherein lies the danger?

"The danger lies in the fact that the college has the power to depose
as well as to elect."

"Ah! And do the Electors threaten to depose?"

"No. Treves is much too crafty for any straight-forward statement of
policy. He is the brains of the combination, and has put forward
Mayence and the Count Palatine as the moving spirits, although it is
well known that the former is but his tool and the latter is moved by
ambition to have his imbecile son selected emperor."

"Even if the worst befall, it seems but the substitution of a weak-
minded man for one who neglects the affairs of state, although I should
think the princes of the Church would prefer a monarch who is so much
under the influence of the monks."

"The trouble is deeper than my imperfect sketch of the situation would
lead you to suppose, my Lord. The Emperor periodically emerges from his
retirement, promulgates some startling decree, unheeding the counsel of
any adviser, then disappears again, no man knowing what is coming next.
Of such a nature was his recent edict prohibiting the harrying of
merchants going down the Rhine and the Moselle, which, however just in
theory, is impracticable, for how are the nobles to reap revenue if
such practices are made unlawful? This edict has offended all the
magnates of both rivers, and the archbishops, with the Count Palatine,
claim that their prerogatives have been infringed, so they come to
Frankfort ostensibly to protest, while the Emperor in his cloister
refuses to meet them. The other three Electors hold aloof, as the edict
touches them not, but they form a minority which is powerless, even if
friendly to the Emperor. Meanwhile his majesty cannot be aroused to an
appreciation of the crisis, but says calmly that if it is the Lord's
will he remain emperor, emperor he will remain."

"Then at its limit, chamberlain, all we have to expect is a peaceful
deposition and election?"

"Not so, my lord. The merchants of Frankfort are fervently loyal, to
the Emperor, who, they say, is the first monarch to give forth a just
law for their protection. At present the subtlety of Treves has
nullified all combined action on their part, for he has given out that
he comes merely to petition his over-lord, which privilege is well
within his right, and many citizens actually believe him, but others
see that a majority of the college will be within these walls before
many days are past, and that the present Emperor may be legally deposed
and another legally chosen. Then if the citizens object, they are
rebels, while at this moment if they fight for the Emperor they are
patriots, so you see the position is not without its perplexities, for
the citizens well know that if they were to man the walls and keep out
Treves and Cologne, the Emperor himself would most likely disclaim
their interference, trusting as he does so entirely in Providence that
a short time since he actually disbanded the imperial troops, much to
the delight of the archbishops, who warmly commended his action. And
now, my Lord, if I may venture to tender advice unasked, I would
strongly counsel you to quit Frankfort as soon as your business here is
concluded, for I am certain that a change of government is intended.
All will be done promptly, and the transaction will be consummated
before the people are aware that such a step is about to be taken. The
Electors will meet in the Wahlzimmer or election room of the Romer and
depose the Emperor, then they will instantly select his successor,
adjourn to the Wahlkapelle and elect him. The Palatine's son is here
with his father, and will be crowned at the high altar by the
Archbishop of Mayence. The new Emperor will dine with the Electors in
the Kaisersaal and immediately after show himself on the balcony to the
people assembled in the Romerberg below. Proclamation of his election
will then be made, and all this need not occupy more than two hours.
The Archbishop of Mayence already controls the city gates, which since
the disbanding of the imperial troops have been unguarded, and none can
get in or out of the city without that potentate's permission. The men
of Mayence are quartered in the centre of the town, the Count
Palatine's troops are near the gate. Treves and Cologne will doubtless
command other positions, and thus between them they will control the
city. Numerous as the merchants and their dependents are, they will
have no chance against the disciplined force of the Electors, and the
streets of Frankfort are like to run with blood, for the nobles are but
too eager to see a sharp check given to the rising pretensions of the
mercantile classes, who having heretofore led peaceful lives, will come
out badly in combat, despite their numbers; therefore I beg of you, my
Lord, to withdraw with her Ladyship before this hell's caldron is
uncovered."

"Your advice is good, chamberlain, in so far as it concerns my wife,
and I will beg of her to retire to Schonburg, although I doubt if she
will obey, but, by the bones of Saint Werner which floated against the
current of the Rhine in this direction, if there must be a fray, I will
be in the thick of it."

"Remember, my Lord, that your house has always stood by the Archbishop
of Mayence."

"It has stood by the Emperor as well, chamberlain."

The Lady Elsa was amazed by the magnificence of the Emperor's court,
when, accompanied by her husband, she walked the length of the great
room to make obeisance before the throne. At first entrance she shrank
timidly, closer to the side of Wilhelm, trembling at the ordeal of
passing, simply costumed as she now felt herself to be, between two
assemblages of haughty knights and high-born dames, resplendent in
dress, with the proud bearing that pertained to their position in the
Empire. Her breath came and went quickly, and she feared that all
courage would desert her before she traversed the seemingly endless
lane, flanked by the nobility of Germany, which led to the royal
presence. Wilhelm, unabashed, holding himself the equal of any there,
was not to be cowed by patronising glance, or scornful gaze. The
thought flashed through his mind:

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