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The Strong Arm

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Thus Von Richenbach, well mounted, with his commission legibly
engrossed in clerkly hand on parchment, departed on the Roman road for
Mayence, but neither there nor at Elfield could he learn more of Count
von Eltz than was already known at Treves, which was to the effect that
this nobleman, repenting him, it was said, of his stubborn opposition
to the Archbishop, had betaken himself to the Crusades in expiation of
his wrong in shouldering arms against one who was both his temporal and
spiritual over-lord; and this rumour coming to the ears of Baldwin, had
the immediate effect of causing that prince of the Church to despatch
Von Richenbach with the purpose of learning accurately what his old
enemy was actually about; for Baldwin, being an astute man, placed
little faith in sudden conversion.

When Heinrich von Richenbach returned to Treves he was immediately
ushered into the presence of his master.

"You have been long away," said the Archbishop, a frown on his brow. "I
trust the tidings you bring offer some slight compensation for the
delay." Then was Heinrich indeed glad that fate, rather than his own
perspicacity, had led his horse to the heights above Schloss Eltz.

"The tidings I bring, my Lord, are so astounding that I could not
return to Treves without verifying them. This led me far afield, for my
information was of the scantiest; but I am now enabled to vouch for the
truth of my well-nigh incredible intelligence."

"Have the good deeds of the Count then translated him bodily to heaven,
as was the case with Elijah? Unloose your packet, man, and waste not so
much time in the vaunting of your wares."

"The Count von Eltz, my Lord, has built a castle that is part palace,
part fortress, and in its latter office well-nigh impregnable."

"Yes? And where?"

"In the Eltz-thal, my Lord, a league and a quarter from the Moselle."

"Impossible!" cried Baldwin, bringing his clenched fist down on the
table before him. "Impossible! You have been misled, Von Richenbach."

"Indeed, my Lord, I had every reason to believe so until I viewed the
structure with my own eyes."

"This, then, is the fruit of Von Eltz's contrition! To build a castle
without permission within my jurisdiction, and defy me in my own
domain. By the Coat, he shall repent his temerity and wish himself
twice over a captive of the Saracen ere I have done with him. I will
despatch at once an army to the Eltz-thal, and there shall not be left
one stone upon another when it returns."

"My Lord, I beseech you not to move with haste in this matter. If
twenty thousand men marched up to the Eltz-thal they could not take the
castle. No such schloss was ever built before, and none to equal it
will ever be built again, unless, as I suspect to be the case in this
instance, the devil lends his aid."

"Oh, I doubt not that Satan built it, but he took the form and name of
Count von Eltz while doing so," replied the Archbishop, his natural
anger at this bold defiance of his power giving way to his habitual
caution, which, united with his resources and intrepidity, had much to
do with his success. "You hold the castle, then, to be unassailable. Is
its garrison so powerful, or its position so strong?"

"The strength of its garrison, my Lord, is in its weakness; I doubt if
there are a score of men in the castle, but that is all the better, as
there are fewer mouths to feed in case of siege, and the Count has some
four years' supplies in his vaults. The schloss is situated on a lofty,
unscalable rock that stands in the centre of a valley, as if it were a
fortress itself. Then the walls of the building are of unbelievable
height, with none of the round or square towers which castles usually
possess, but having in plenty conical turrets, steep roofs, and the
like, which give it the appearance of a fairy palace in a wide,
enchanted amphitheatre of green wooded hills, making the Schloss Eltz,
all in all, a most miraculous sight, such as a man may not behold in
many years' travel."

"In truth, Von Richenbach," said the Archbishop, with a twinkle in his
eye, "we should have made you one of our scrivening monks rather than a
warrior, so marvellously do you describe the entrancing handiwork of
our beloved vassal, the Count von Eltz. Perhaps you think it pity to
destroy so fascinating a creation."

"Not so, my Lord. I have examined the castle well, and I think were I
entrusted with the commission I could reduce it."

"Ah, now we have modesty indeed! You can take the stronghold where I
should fail."

"I did not say that you would fail, my Lord. I said that twenty
thousand men marching up the valley would fail, unless they were
content to sit around the castle for four years or more."

"Answered like a courtier, Heinrich. What, then, is your method of
attack?"

"On the height to the east, which is the nearest elevation to the
castle, a strong fortress might be built, that would in a measure
command the Schloss Eltz, although I fear the distance would be too
great for any catapult to fling stones within its courtyard. Still, we
might thus have complete power over the entrance to the schloss, and no
more provender could be taken in."

"You mean, then, to wear Von Eltz out? That would be as slow a method
as besiegement."

"To besiege would require an army, my Lord, and would have this
disadvantage, that, besides withdrawing from other use so many of your
men, rumour would spread abroad that the Count held you in check. The
building of a fortress on the height would merely be doing what the
Count has already done, and it could be well garrisoned by twoscore men
at the most, vigilant night and day to take advantage of any movement
of fancied security to force way into the castle. There need be no
formal declaration of hostilities, but a fortress built in all
amicableness, to which the Count could hardly object, as you would be
but following his own example."

"I understand. We build a house near his for neighbourliness. There is
indeed much in your plan that commends itself to me, but I confess a
liking for the underlying part of a scheme. Remains there anything else
which you have not unfolded to me?"

"Placing in command of the new fortress a stout warrior who was at the
same time a subtle man----"

"In other words, thyself, Heinrich--well, what then?"

"There is every chance that such a general may learn much of the castle
from one or other of its inmates. It might be possible that, through
neglect or inadvertence, the drawbridge would be left down some night
and the portcullis raised. In other words, the castle, impervious to
direct assault, may fall by strategy."

"Excellent, excellent, my worthy warrior! I should dearly love to have
captain of mine pay such an informal visit to his estimable Countship.
We shall build the fortress you suggest, and call it Baldwineltz. You
shall be its commander, and I now bestow upon you Schloss Eltz, the
only proviso being that you are to enter into possession of it by
whatever means you choose to use."

Thus the square, long castle of Baldwineltz came to be builded, and
thus Heinrich von Richenbach, brave, ingenious, and unscrupulous, was
installed captain of it, with twoscore men to keep him company,
together with a plentiful supply of gold to bribe whomsoever he thought
worth suborning.

Time went on without much to show for its passing, and Heinrich began
to grow impatient, for his attempt at corrupting the garrison showed
that negotiations were not without their dangers. Stout Baumstein,
captain of the gate, was the man whom Heinrich most desired to
purchase, for Baumstein could lessen the discipline at the portal of
Schloss Eltz without attracting undue attention. But he was an
irascible German, whose strong right arm was readier than his tongue;
and when Heinrich's emissary got speech with him, under a flag of
truce, whispering that much gold might be had for a casual raising of
the portcullis and lowering of the drawbridge, Baumstein at first could
not understand his purport, for he was somewhat thick in the skull; but
when the meaning of the message at last broke in upon him, he wasted no
time in talk, but, raising his ever-ready battle-axe, clove the Envoy
to the midriff. The Count von Eltz himself, coming on the scene at this
moment, was amazed at the deed, and sternly demanded of his gate-
captain why he had violated the terms of a parley. Baumstein's slowness
of speech came near to being the undoing of him, for at first he merely
said that such creatures as the messenger should not be allowed to live
and that an honest soldier was insulted by holding converse with him;
whereupon the Count, having nice notions, picked up in polite
countries, regarding the sacredness of a flag of truce, was about to
hang Baumstein, scant though the garrison was, and even then it was but
by chance that the true state of affairs became known to the Count. He
was on the point of sending back the body of the Envoy to Von
Richenbach with suitable apology for his destruction and offer of
recompense, stating that the assailant would be seen hanging outside
the gate, when Baumstein said that while he had no objection to being
hanged if it so pleased the Count, he begged to suggest that the gold
which the Envoy brought with him to bribe the garrison should be taken
from the body before it was returned, and divided equally among the
guard at the gate. As Baumstein said this, he was taking off his helmet
and unbuckling his corselet, thus freeing his neck for the greater
convenience of the castle hangman. When the Count learned that the
stout stroke of the battle-axe was caused by the proffer of a bribe for
the betraying of the castle, he, to the amazement of all present,
begged the pardon of Baumstein; for such a thing was never before known
under the feudal law that a noble should apologise to a common man, and
Baumstein himself muttered that he wot not what the world was coming to
if a mighty Lord might not hang an underling if it so pleased him,
cause or no cause.

The Count commanded the body to be searched, and finding thereon some
five bags of gold, distributed the coin among his men, as a good
commander should, sending back the body to Von Richenbach, with a most
polite message to the effect that as the Archbishop evidently intended
the money to be given to the garrison, the Count had endeavoured to
carry out his Lordship's wishes, as was the duty of an obedient vassal.
But Heinrich, instead of being pleased with the courtesy of the
message, broke into violent oaths, and spread abroad in the land the
false saying that Count von Eltz had violated a flag of truce.

But there was one man in the castle who did not enjoy a share of the
gold, because he was not a warrior, but a servant of the Countess. This
was a Spaniard named Rego, marvellously skilled in the concocting of
various dishes of pastry and other niceties such as high-born ladies
have a fondness for. Rego was disliked by the Count, and, in fact, by
all the stout Germans who formed the garrison, not only because it is
the fashion for men of one country justly to abhor those of another,
foreigners being in all lands regarded as benighted creatures whom we
marvel that the Lord allows to live when he might so easily have
peopled the whole world with men like unto ourselves; but, aside from
this, Rego had a cat-like tread, and a furtive eye that never met
another honestly as an eye should. The count, however, endured the
presence of this Spaniard, because the Countess admired his skill in
confections, then unknown in Germany, and thus Rego remained under her
orders.

The Spaniard's eye glittered when he saw the yellow lustre of the gold,
and his heart was bitter that he did not have a share of it. He soon
learned where it came from, and rightly surmised that there was more in
the same treasury, ready to be bestowed for similar service to that
which the unready Baumstein had so emphatically rejected; so Rego,
watching his opportunity, stole away secretly to Von Richenbach and
offered his aid in the capture of the castle, should suitable
compensation be tendered him. Heinrich questioned him closely regarding
the interior arrangements of the castle, and asked him if he could find
any means of letting down the drawbridge and raising the portcullis in
the night. This, Rego said quite truly, was impossible, as the guard at
the gate, vigilant enough before, had become much more so since the
attempted bribery of the Captain. There was, however, one way by which
the castle might be entered, and that entailed a most perilous
adventure. There was a platform between two of the lofty, steep roofs,
so elevated that it gave a view over all the valley. On this platform a
sentinel was stationed night and day, whose duty was that of outlook,
like a man on the cross-trees of a ship. From this platform a stair,
narrow at the top, but widening as it descended to the lower stories,
gave access to the whole castle. If, then, a besieger constructed a
ladder of enormous length, it might be placed at night on the narrow
ledge of rock far below this platform, standing almost perpendicular,
and by this means man after man would be enabled to reach the roof of
the castle, and, under the guidance of Rego, gain admittance to the
lower rooms unsuspected.

"But the sentinel?" objected Von Richenbach.

"The sentinel I will myself slay. I will steal up behind him in the
night when you make your assault, and running my knife into his neck,
fling him over the castle wall; then I shall be ready to guide you down
into the courtyard."

Von Richenbach, remembering the sheer precipice of rock at the foot of
the castle walls and the dizzy height of the castle roof above the
rock, could scarcely forbear a shudder at the thought of climbing so
high on a shaky ladder, even if such a ladder could be made, of which
he had some doubts. The scheme did not seem so feasible as the Spaniard
appeared to imagine.

"Could you not let down a rope ladder from the platform when you had
slain the sentinel, and thus allow us to climb by that?"

"It would be impossible for me to construct and conceal a contrivance
strong enough to carry more than one man at a time, even if I had the
materials," said the wily Spaniard, whose thoughtfulness and ingenuity
Heinrich could not but admire, while despising him as an oily
foreigner. "If you made the rope ladder there would be no method of
getting it into Schloss Eltz; besides, it would need to be double the
length of a wooden ladder, for you can place your ladder at the foot of
the ledge, then climb to the top of the rock, and, standing there, pull
the ladder up, letting the higher end scrape against the castle wall
until the lower end stands firm on the ledge of rock. Your whole troop
could then climb, one following another, so that there would be no
delay."

Thus it was arranged, and then began and was completed the construction
of the longest and most wonderful ladder ever made in Germany or
anywhere else, so far as history records. It was composed of numerous
small ladders, spliced and hooped with iron bands by the castle
armourer. At a second visit, which Rego paid to Baldwineltz when the
ladder was completed, all arrangements were made and the necessary
signals agreed upon.

It was the pious custom of those in the fortress of Baldwineltz to ring
the great bell on Saints' days and other festivals that called for
special observance, because Von Richenbach conducted war on the
strictest principles, as a man knowing his duty both spiritual and
temporal. It was agreed that on the night of the assault, when it was
necessary that Rego should assassinate the sentinel, the great bell of
the fortress should be rung, whereupon the Spaniard was to hie himself
up the stair and send the watchman into another sphere of duty by means
of his dagger. The bell-ringing seems a perfectly justifiable device,
and one that will be approved by all conspirators, for the sounding of
the bell, plainly heard in Schloss Eltz, would cause no alarm, as it
was wont to sound at uncertain intervals, night and day, and was known
to give tongue only during moments allotted by the Church to devout
thoughts. But the good monk Ambrose, in setting down on parchment the
chronicles of this time, gives it as his opinion that no prosperity
could have been expected in thus suddenly changing the functions of the
bell from sacred duty to the furtherance of a secular object. Still,
Ambrose was known to be a sympathiser with the house of Eltz, and,
aside from this, a monk in his cell cannot be expected to take the same
view of military necessity that would commend itself to a warrior on a
bastion; therefore, much as we may admire Ambrose as an historian, we
are not compelled to accept his opinions on military ethics.

On the important night, which was of great darkness, made the more
intense by the black environment of densely-wooded hills which
surrounded Schloss Eltz, the swarthy Spaniard became almost pale with
anxiety as he listened for the solemn peal that was to be his signal.
At last it tolled forth, and he, with knife to hand in his girdle,
crept softly along the narrow halls to his fatal task. The interior of
Schloss Eltz is full of intricate passages, unexpected turnings, here a
few steps up, there a few steps down, for all the world like a maze, in
which even one knowing the castle might well go astray. At one of the
turnings Rego came suddenly upon the Countess, who screamed at sight of
him, and then recognising him said, half laughing, half crying, being a
nervous woman:

"Ah, Rego, thank heaven it is you! I am so distraught with the doleful
ringing of that bell that I am frightened at the sound of my own
footsteps. Why rings it so, Rego?"

"'Tis some Church festival, my Lady, which they, fighting for the
Archbishop, are more familiar with than I," answered the trembling
Spaniard, as frightened as the lady herself at the unexpected meeting.
But the Countess was a most religious woman, well skilled in the
observances of her Church, and she replied:

"No, Rego. There is no cause for its dolorous music, and to-night there
seems to me something ominous and menacing in its tone, as if disaster
impended."

"It may be the birthday of the Archbishop, my Lady, or of the Pope
himself."

"Our Holy Father was born in May, and the Archbishop in November. Ah, I
would that this horrid strife were done with! But our safety lies in
Heaven, and if our duty be accomplished here on earth, we should have
naught to fear; yet I tremble as if great danger lay before me. Come,
Rego, to the chapel, and light the candles at the altar."

The Countess passed him, and for one fateful moment Rego's hand hovered
over his dagger, thinking to strike the lady dead at his feet; but the
risk was too great, for there might at any time pass along the corridor
one of the servants, who would instantly raise the alarm and bring
disaster upon him. He dare not disobey. So grinding his teeth in
impotent rage and fear, he followed his mistress to the chapel, and, as
quickly as he could, lit one candle after another, until the usual
number burned before the sacred image. The Countess was upon her knees
as he tried to steal softly from the room. "Nay, Rego," she said,
raising her bended head, "light them all to-night. Hearken! That raven
bell has ceased even as you lighted the last candle."

The Countess, as has been said was a devout lady, and there stood an
unusual number of candles before the altar, several of which burned
constantly, but only on notable occasions were all the candles lighted.
As Rego hesitated, not knowing what to do in this crisis, the lady
repeated: "Light _all_ the candles to-night, Rego."

"You said yourself, my Lady," murmured the agonised man, cold sweat
breaking out on his forehead, "that this was not a Saint's day."

"Nevertheless, Rego," persisted the Countess, surprised that even a
favourite servant should thus attempt to thwart her will, "I ask you to
light each candle. Do so at once."

She bowed her head as one who had spoken the final word, and again her
fate trembled in the balance; but Rego heard the footsteps of the Count
entering the gallery above him, that ran across the end of the chapel,
and he at once resumed the lighting of the candles, making less speed
in his eagerness than if he had gone about his task with more care.

The monk Ambrose draws a moral from this episode, which is sufficiently
obvious when after-events have confirmed it, but which we need not here
pause to consider, when an episode of the most thrilling nature is
going forward on the lofty platform on the roof of Eltz Castle.

The sentinel paced back and forward within his narrow limit, listening
to the depressing and monotonous tolling of the bell and cursing it,
for the platform was a lonely place and the night of inky darkness. At
last the bell ceased, and he stood resting on his long pike, enjoying
the stillness, and peering into the blackness surrounding him, when
suddenly he became aware of a grating, rasping sound below, as if some
one were attempting to climb the precipitous beetling cliff of castle
wall and slipping against the stones. His heart stood still with fear,
for he knew it could be nothing human. An instant later something
appeared over the parapet that could be seen only because it was
blacker than the distant dark sky against which it was outlined. It
rose and rose until the sentinel saw it was the top of a ladder, which
was even more amazing than if the fiend himself had scrambled over the
stone coping, for we know the devil can go anywhere, while a ladder
cannot. But the soldier was a common-sense man, and, dark as was the
night, he knew that, tall as such a ladder must be, there seemed a
likelihood that human power was pushing it upward. He touched it with
his hands and convinced himself that there was nothing supernatural
about it. The ladder rose inch by inch, slowly, for it must have been
no easy task for even twoscore men to raise it thus with ropes or other
devices, especially when the bottom of it neared the top of the ledge.
The soldier knew he should at once give the alarm: but he was the
second traitor in the stronghold, corrupted by the sight of the
glittering gold he had shared, and only prevented from selling himself
because the rigours of military rule did not give him opportunity of
going to Baldwineltz as the less exacting civilian duties had allowed
the Spaniard to do and thus market his ware. So the sentry made no
outcry, but silently prepared a method by which he could negotiate with
advantage to himself when the first head appeared above the parapet. He
fixed the point of his lance against a round of the ladder, and when
the leading warrior, who was none other than Heinrich von Richenbach,
himself came slowly and cautiously to the top of the wall, the
sentinel, exerting all his strength, pushed the lance outward, and the
top of the ladder with it, until it stood nearly perpendicular some two
yards back from the wall.

"In God's name, what are you about? Is that you, Rego?"

The soldier replied, calmly:

"Order your men not to move, and do not move yourself, until I have
some converse with you. Have no fear if you are prepared to accept my
terms; otherwise you will have ample time to say your prayers before
you reach the ground, for the distance is great."

Von Richenbach, who now leaned over the top round, suspended thus
between heaven and earth, grasped the lance with both hands, so that
the ladder might not be thrust beyond the perpendicular. In quivering
voice he passed down the word that no man was to shift foot or hand
until he had made bargain with the sentinel who held them in such
extreme peril.

"What terms do you propose to me, soldier?" he asked, breathlessly.

"I will conduct you down to the courtyard, and when you have surprised
and taken the castle you will grant me safe conduct and give me five
bags of gold equal in weight to those offered to our captain."

"All that will I do and double the treasure. Faithfully and truly do I
promise it."

"You pledge me your knightly word, and swear also by the holy coat of
Treves?"

"I pledge and swear. And pray you be careful; incline the ladder yet a
little more toward the wall."

"I trust to your honour," said the traitor, for traitors love to prate
of honour, "and will now admit you to the castle; but until we are in
the courtyard there must be silence."

"Incline the ladder gently, for it is so weighted that if it come
suddenly against the wall, it may break in the middle."

At this supreme moment, as the sentinel was preparing to bring them
cautiously to the wall, when all was deep silence, there crept swiftly
and noiselessly through the trap-door the belated Spaniard. His catlike
eyes beheld the shadowy form of the sentinel bending apparently over
the parapet, but they showed him nothing beyond. With the speed and
precipitation of a springing panther, the Spaniard leaped forward and
drove his dagger deep into the neck of his comrade, who, with a
gurgling cry, plunged headlong forward, and down the precipice,
thrusting his lance as he fell. The Spaniard's dagger went with the
doomed sentinel, sticking fast in his throat, and its presence there
passed a fatal noose around the neck of Rego later, for they wrongly
thought the false sentinel had saved the castle and that the Spaniard
had murdered a faithful watchman.

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