A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P R S T U V W X Z

The Strong Arm

R >> Robert Barr >> The Strong Arm




"What would I have done? I would have met my enemy sword in hand and
talked with him or fought with him as best suited his inclination."

"But a lady cannot meet you, sword in hand, my Lord."

The Count paused in the walk he had begun when the injustice of his
usage impressed itself once more upon him. He looked admiringly at the
girl.

"That is most true, Beatrix. I had forgotten. Still, I should not have
been met with cozenry. Here came I from starvation in the wilderness,
thirst in the desert, and from the stress of the battle-field, back to
mine own land with my heart full of yearning love for it and for all
within its boundaries. I came even from prison, captured in fair fight,
by an untaught heathen, whose men lay slain by my hand, yet with the
nobility of a true warrior, he asked neither ransom nor hostage, but
handed back my sword, saying, 'Go in peace.' That in a heathen land!
but no sooner does my foot rest on this Christian soil than I am met by
false smiles and lying tongues, and my welcome to a neighbour's house
is the clank of the inthrust bolt."

"Oh, it was a shameful act and not to be defended," cried the girl,
with moist eyes and quivering lip, the sympathetic reverberation of her
voice again arresting the impatient steps of the young man, causing him
to pause and view her with a feeling that he could not understand, and
which he found some difficulty in controlling. Suddenly all desire for
restraint left him, he sprang forward, clasped the girl in his arms and
drew her into the middle of the room, where she could not give the
signal that might open the door.

"My Lord! my Lord!" she cried in terror, struggling without avail to
free herself.

"You said all's fair in war and saying so, gave but half the proverb,
which adds, all's fair in love as well, and maiden, nymph of the
woodland, so rapidly does a man learn that which he has never been
taught, I proclaim with confidence that I love thee."

"A diffident and gentle lover you prove yourself!" she gasped with
rising indignation, holding him from her.

"Indeed, my girl, there was little of diffidence or gentleness in my
warring, and my wooing is like to have a touch of the same quality. It
is useless to struggle for I have thee firm, so take to yourself some
of that gentleness you recommend to me."

He strove to kiss her, but Beatrix held her head far from him, her open
palm pressed against the red cross that glowed upon his breast, keeping
him thus at arm's length.

"Count von Schonburg, what is the treachery of any other compared with
yours? You came heedlessly into this castle, suspecting as you say, no
danger: I came within this room to do you service, knowing my peril,
but trusting to the honour of a true soldier of the Cross, and this is
my reward! First tear from your breast this sacred emblem, valorous
assaulter of a defenceless woman, for it should be worn by none but
stainless gentlemen."

Count Herbert's arms relaxed, and his hands dropped listless to his
sides.

"By my sword," he said, "they taught you invective in the forest. You
are free. Go."

The girl made no motion to profit by her newly acquired liberty, but
stood there, glancing sideways at him who scowled menacingly at her.

When at last she spoke, she said, shyly: "I have not yet fulfilled my
mission."

"Fulfil it then in the fiend's name and begone."

"Will you consent to see my Lady the Countess?"

"No."

"Will you promise not to make war upon her if you are released?"

"No."

"If, in spite of your boorishness, she sets you free, what will you
do?"

"I will rally my followers to my banner, scatter the forces that
surround my castle, then demolish this prison trap."

"Am I in truth to carry such answers to the Countess?"

"You are to do as best pleases you, now and forever."

"I am but a simple serving-maid, and know nothing of high questions of
state, yet it seems to me such replies do not oil prison bolts, and
believe me, I grieve to see you thus detained."

"I am grateful for your consideration. Is your embassy completed?"

The girl, her eyes on the stone floor, paused long before replying,
then said, giving no warning of a change of subject, and still not
raising her eyes to his:

"You took me by surprise; I am not used to being handled roughly; you
forget the distance between your station and mine, you being a noble of
the Empire, and I but a serving-maid; if, in my anger, I spoke in a
manner unbecoming one so humble, I do beseech that your Lordship pardon
me."

"Now by the Cross to which you appealed, how long will you stand
chattering there? Think you I am made of adamant, and not of flesh and
blood? My garments are tattered at best, I would in woman's company
they were finer, and this cross of Genoa red hangs to my tunic, but by
a few frail threads. Beware, therefore, that I tear it not from my
breast as you advised, and cast it from me."

Beatrix lifted one frightened glance to the young man's face and saw
standing on his brow great drops of sweat. His right hand grasped the
upper portion of the velvet cross, partly detached from his doublet,
and he looked loweringly upon her. Swiftly she smote the door twice
with her hand and instantly the portal opened as far as the chain would
allow it. Count Herbert noticed that in the interval, three other
chains had been added to the one that formerly had baffled his sword.
The girl, like a woodland pigeon, darted underneath the lower chain,
and although the prisoner took a rapid step forward, the door, with
greater speed, closed and was bolted.

The Count had requested the girl to be gone, and surely should have
been contented now that she had withdrawn herself, yet so shifty a
thing is human nature, that no sooner were his commands obeyed than he
began to bewail their fulfilment. He accused himself of being a double
fool, first, for not holding her when he had her; and secondly, having
allowed her to depart, he bemoaned the fact that he had acted rudely to
her, and thus had probably made her return impossible. His prison
seemed inexpressibly dreary lacking her presence. Once or twice he
called out her name, but the echoing empty walls alone replied.

For the first time in his life the heavy sleep of the camp deserted
him, and in his dreams he pursued a phantom woman, who continually
dissolved in his grasp, now laughingly, now in anger.

The morning found him deeply depressed, and he thought the unaccustomed
restraints of a prison were having their effect on the spirits of a man
heretofore free. He sat silently on the bench watching the door.

At last, to his great joy, he heard the rattle of bolts being
withdrawn. The door opened slowly to the small extent allowed by the
chains, but no one entered and the Count sat still, concealed from the
view of whoever stood without.

"My Lord Count," came the sweet tones of the girl and the listener with
joy, fancied he detected in it a suggestion of apprehension, doubtless
caused by the fact that the room seemed deserted. "My Lord Count, I
have brought your breakfast; will you not come and receive it?"

Herbert rose slowly and came within range of his jailer's vision. The
girl stood in the hall, a repast that would have tempted an epicure
arrayed on the wooden trencher she held in her hands.

"Beatrix, come in," he said.

"I fear that in stooping, some portion of this burden may fall. Will
you not take the trencher?"

The young man stepped to the opening and, taking the tray from her,
placed it on the bench as he had previously done; then repeated his
invitation.

"You were displeased with my company before, my Lord, and I am loath
again to offend."

"Beatrix, I beg you to enter. I have something to say to you."

"Stout chains bar not words, my Lord. Speak and I shall listen."

"What I have to say, is for your ear alone."

"Then are the conditions perfect for such converse, my Lord. No guard
stands within this hall."

The Count sighed deeply, turned and sat again on the bench, burying his
face in his hands. The maiden having given excellent reasons why she
should not enter, thus satisfying her sense of logic, now set logic at
defiance, slipped under the lowest chain and stood within the room,
and, so that there might be no accusation that she did things by
halves, closed the door leaning her back against it. The knight looked
up at her and saw that she too had rested but indifferently. Her lovely
eyes half veiled, showed traces of weeping, and there was a wistful
expression in her face that touched him tenderly, and made him long for
her; nevertheless he kept a rigid government upon himself, and sat
there regarding her, she flushing, slightly under his scrutiny, not
daring to return his ardent gaze.

"Beatrix," he said slowly, "I have acted towards you like a boor and a
ruffian, as indeed I am; but let this plead for me, that I have ever
been used to the roughness of the camp, bereft of gentler influences. I
ask your forgiveness."

"There is nothing to forgive. You are a noble of the Empire, and I but
a lowly serving-maid."

"Nay, that cuts me to the heart, and is my bitterest condemnation. A
true man were courteous to high and low alike. Now, indeed, you
overwhelm me with shame, maiden of the woodlands."

"Such was not my intention, my Lord. I hold you truly noble in nature
as well as in rank, otherwise I stood not here."

"Beatrix, does any woodlander come from the forest to the castle walls
and there give signal intended for you alone?"

"Oh, no, my Lord."

"Perhaps you have kindly preference for some one within this
stronghold?"

"You forget, my Lord, that the castle is ruled by a lady, and that the
preference you indicate would accord ill with her womanly government."

"In truth I know little of woman's rule, but given such, I suppose the
case would stand as you say. The Countess then frowns upon lovers'
meetings."

"How could it be otherwise?"

"Have you told her of--of yesterday?"

"You mean of your refusal to come to terms with her? Yes, my Lord."

"I mean nothing of the kind, Beatrix."

"No one outside this room has been told aught to your disadvantage, my
Lord," said the girl blushing rose-red.

"Then she suspects nothing?"

"Suspects nothing of what, my Lord?"

"That I love you, Beatrix."

The girl caught her breath, and seemed about to fly, but gathering
courage, remained, and said speaking hurriedly and in some confusion:
"As I did not suspect it myself I see not how my Lady should have made
any such surmise, but indeed it may be so, for she chided me bitterly
for remaining so long with you, and made me weep with her keen censure;
yet am I here now against her express wish and command, but that is
because of my strong sympathy for you and my belief that the Countess
has wrongfully treated you."

"I care nothing for the opinion of that harridan, except that it may
bring harsh usage to you; but Beatrix, I have told you bluntly of my
love for you, answer me as honestly."

"My Lord, you spoke just now of a woodlander--"

"Ah, there is one then. Indeed, I feared as much, for there can be none
on all the Rhine as beautiful or as good as you."

"There are many woodlanders, my Lord, and many women more beautiful
than I. What I was about to say was that I would rather be the wife of
the poorest forester, and lived in the roughest hut on the hillside,
than dwell otherwise in the grandest castle on the Rhine."

"Surely, surely. But you shall dwell in my castle of Schonburg as my
most honoured wife, if you but will it so."

"Then, my Lord, I must bid you beware of what you propose. Your wife
must be chosen from the highest in the land, and not from the lowliest.
It is not fitting that you should endeavour to raise a serving-maid to
the position of Countess von Schonburg. You would lose caste among your
equals, and bring unhappiness upon us both."

Count Herbert grasped his sword and lifting it, cried angrily: "By the
Cross I serve, the man who refuses to greet my wife as he would greet
the Empress, shall feel the weight of this blade."

"You cannot kill a whisper with a sword, my Lord."

"I can kill the whisperer."

"That can you not, my Lord, for the whisperer will be a woman."

"Then out upon them, we will have no traffic with them. I have lived
too long away from the petty restrictions of civilisation to be bound
down by them now, for I come from a region where a man's sword and not
his rank preserved his life." As he spoke he again raised his huge
weapon aloft, but now held it by the blade so that it stood out against
the bright window like a black cross of iron, and his voice rang forth
defiantly: "With that blade I won my honour; by the symbol of its hilt
I hope to obtain my soul's salvation, on both united I swear to be to
you a true lover and a loyal husband."

With swift motion the girl covered her face with her hands and Herbert
saw the crystal drops trickle between her fingers. For long she could
not speak and then mastering her emotion, she said brokenly:

"I cannot accept, I cannot now accept. I can take no advantage of a
helpless prisoner. At midnight I shall come and set you free, thus my
act may atone for the great wrong of your imprisonment; atone partially
if not wholly. When you are at liberty, if you wish to forget your
words, which I can never do, then am I amply repaid that my poor
presence called them forth. If you remember them, and demand of the
Countess that I stand as hostage for peace, she is scarce likely to
deny you, for she loves not war. But know that nothing you have said is
to be held against you, for I would have you leave this castle as free
as when you entered it. And now, my Lord, farewell."

Before the unready man could make motion to prevent her, she had opened
the door and was gone, leaving it open, thus compelling the prisoner to
be his own jailer and close it, for he had no wish now to leave the
castle alone when he had been promised such guidance.

The night seemed to Count Herbert the longest he had ever spent, as he
sat on the bench, listening for the withdrawing of the bolts; if indeed
they were in their sockets, which he doubted. At last the door was
pushed softly open, and bending under the chain, he stood in the
outside hall, peering through the darkness, to catch sight of his
conductor. A great window of stained glass occupied the southern end of
the hall, and against it fell the rays of the full moon now high in the
heavens, filling the dim and lofty apartment with a coloured radiance
resembling his visions of the half tones of fairyland. Like a shadow
stood the cloaked figure of the girl, who timidly placed her small hand
in his great palm, and that touch gave a thrill of reality to the
mysticism of the time and the place. He grasped it closely, fearing it
might fade away from him as it had done in his dream. She led him
silently by another way from that by which he had entered, and together
they passed through a small doorway that communicated with a narrow
circular stair which wound round and round downwards until they came to
another door at the bottom, which let them out in the moonlight at the
foot of a turret.

"Beatrix," whispered the young man, "I am not going to demand you of
the Countess. I shall not be indebted to her for my wife. You must come
with me now."

"No, no," cried the girl shrinking from him, "I cannot go with you thus
surreptitiously, and no one but you and me must ever learn that I led
you from the castle. You shall come for me as a lord should for his
lady, as if he thought her worthy of him."

"Indeed, that do I. Worthy? It is I who am unworthy, but made more
worthy I hope in that you care for me."

From where they stood the knight saw the moonlight fall on his own
castle of Schonburg, the rays seeming to transform the grey stone into
the whitest of marble, the four towers standing outlined against the
blue of the cloudless sky. The silver river of romance, flowed silently
at its feet reflecting again the snowy purity of the reality in an
inverted quivering watery vision. All the young man's affection for the
home he had not seen for years seemed to blend with his love for the
girl standing there in the moonlight. Gently he drew her to him, and
kissed her unresisting lips.

"Woodland maiden," he said tenderly, "here at the edge of the forest is
your rightful home and not in this grim castle, and here will I woo
thee again, being now a free man."

"Indeed," said the girl with a laugh in which a sob and a sigh
intermingled, "it is but scanty freedom I have brought to you; an
exchange of silken fetters for iron chains."

His arms still around her, he unloosed the ribbon that held in thrall
the thick braid of golden hair, and parting the clustering strands
speedily encompassed her in a cloak of misty fragrance that seemed as
unsubstantial as the moonlight that glittered through its meshes. He
stood back the better to admire the picture he seemed to have created.

"My darling," he cried, "you are no woodland woman, but the very spirit
of the forest herself. You are so beautiful, I dare not leave you here
to the mercies of this demon, who, finding me gone, may revenge herself
on you. If before she dared to censure you, what may she not do now
that you have set me free? Curse her that she stands for a moment
between my love and me."

He raised his clenched fist and shook it at the tower above him, and
seemed about to break forth in new maledictions against the lady, when
Beatrix, clasping her hands cried in terror:

"No, no, Herbert, you have said enough. How can you pretend to love me
when implacable hatred lies so near to your affection. You must forgive
the Countess. Oh, Herbert, Herbert, what more could I do to atone? I
have withdrawn my forces from around your castle; I have set you free
and your path to Schonburg lies unobstructed. Even now your underling,
thinking himself victorious, is preparing an expedition against me, and
nothing but your word stands, between me and instant attack. Ponder, I
beseech of you, on my position. War, not of my seeking, was bequeathed
to me, and a woman who cannot fight must trust to her advisers, and
thus may do what her own heart revolts against. They told me that if I
made you prisoner I could stop the war, and thus I consented to that
act of treachery for which you so justly condemn me."

"Beatrix," cried her amazed lover, "what madness has come over you?"

"No madness touched me, Herbert, until I met you, and I sometimes think
that you have brought back with you the eastern sorcery of which I have
heard--at least such may perhaps make excuse for my unmaidenly
behaviour. Herbert, I am Beatrix of Gudenfels, Countess von
Falkenstein, who is and ever will be, if you refuse to pardon her, a
most unhappy woman."

"No woodland maiden, but the Countess! The Countess von Falkenstein!"
murmured her lover more to himself than to, his eager listener, the
lines on his perplexed brow showing that he was endeavouring to adjust
the real and the ideal in his slow brain.

"A Countess, Herbert, who will joyfully exchange the privileges of her
station for the dear preference shown to the serving-maid."

A smile came to the lips of Von Schonburg as he held out his hands, in
which the Countess placed her own.

"My Lady Beatrix," he said, "how can I refuse my pardon for the first
encroachment on my liberty, now that you have made me your prisoner for
life?"

"Indeed, my captured lord," cried the girl, "you are but now coming to
a true sense of your predicament. I marvelled that you felt so
resentful about the first offence, when the second was so much more
serious. Am I then forgiven for both?"

It seemed that she was, and the Count insisted on returning to his
captivity, and coming forth the next day, freed by her commands,
whereupon, in the presence of all her vassals, he swore allegiance to
her with such deference that her advisers said to her that she must now
see they had been right in counselling his imprisonment. Prison, they
said, had a wonderfully quieting effect upon even the most truculent,
the Count being quickly subdued when he saw his sword-play had but
little effect on the chain. The Countess graciously acknowledged that
events had indeed proved the wisdom of their course, and said it was
not to be wondered at that men should know the disposition of a
turbulent man, better than an inexperienced woman could know it.

And thus was the feud between Gudenfels and Schonburg happily ended,
and Count Herbert came from the Crusades to find two castles waiting
for him instead of one as he had expected, with what he had reason to
prize above everything else, a wife as well.




CHAPTER II

THE REVENGE OF THE OUTLAW


The position of Count Herbert when, at the age of thirty-one he took up his
residence in the ancient castle of his line, was a most enviable one. His
marriage with Beatrix, Countess von Falkenstein, had added the lustre of a
ruling family to the prestige of his own, and the renown of his valour in
the East had lost nothing in transit from the shores of the Mediterranean
to the banks of the Rhine. The Counts of Schonburg had ever been the most
conservative in counsel and the most radical in the fray, and thus Herbert
on returning, found himself, without seeking the honor, regarded by common
consent as leader of the nobility whose castles bordered the renowned
river. The Emperor, as was usually the case when these imperial figure-
heads were elected by the three archbishops and their four colleagues, was
a nonentity, who made no attempt to govern a turbulent land that so many
were willing to govern for him. His majesty left sword and sceptre to those
who cared for such baubles, and employed himself in banding together the
most notable company of meistersingers that Germany had ever listened to.
But although harmony reigned in Frankfort, the capital, there was much lack
of it along the Rhine, and the man with the swiftest and heaviest sword,
usually accumulated the greatest amount of property, movable and otherwise.

Among the truculent nobles who terrorised the country side, none was held
In greater awe than Baron von Wiethoff, whose Schloss occupied a promontory
Some distance up the stream from Castle Schonburg, on the same side of the
river. Public opinion condemned the Baron, not because he exacted tribute
from the merchants who sailed down the Rhine, for such collections were
universally regarded as a legitimate source of revenue, but because he was
in the habit of killing the goose that laid the golden egg, which action
was looked upon with disfavour by those who resided between Schloss
Wiethoff and Cologne, as interfering with their right to exist, for a
merchant, although well-plucked, is still of advantage to those in
whose hands he falls, if life and some of his goods are left to him.
Whereas, when cleft from scalp to midriff by the Baron's long sword, he
became of no value either to himself or to others. While many nobles
were satisfied with levying a scant five or ten per cent on a voyager's
belongings, the Baron rarely rested contented until he had acquired the
full hundred, and, the merchant objecting, von Wiethoff would usually
order him hanged or decapitated, although at times when he was in good
humour he was wont to confer honour upon the trading classes by
despatching the grumbling seller of goods with his own weapon, which
created less joy in the commercial community than the Baron seemed to
expect. Thus navigation on the swift current of the Rhine began to
languish, for there was little profit in the transit of goods from
Mayence to Cologne if the whole consignment stood in jeopardy and the
owner's life as well, so the merchants got into the habit of carrying
their gear overland on the backs of mules, thus putting the nobility to
great inconvenience in scouring the forests, endeavouring to intercept
the caravans. The nobility, with that stern sense of justice which has
ever characterised the higher classes, placed the blame of this
diversion of traffic from its natural channel not upon the merchants
but upon the Baron, where undoubtedly it rightly belonged, and
although, when they came upon an overland company which was seeking to
avoid them, they gathered in an extra percentage of the goods to repay
in a measure the greater difficulty they had in their woodland search,
they always informed the merchants with much politeness, that, when
river traffic was resumed, they would be pleased to revert to the
original exaction, which the traders, not without reason pointed out
was of little avail to them as long as Baron von Wiethoff was permitted
to confiscate the whole.

In their endeavours to resuscitate the navigation interests of the
Rhine, several expeditions had been formed against the Baron, but his
castle was strong, and there were so many conflicting interests among
those who attacked him that he had always come out victorious, and
after each onslaught the merchants suffered more severely than before.

Affairs were in this unsatisfactory condition when Count Herbert of
Schonburg returned from the Holy Land, the fame of his deeds upon him,
and married Beatrix of Gudenfels. Although the nobles of the Upper
Rhine held aloof from all contest with the savage Baron of Schloss
Wiethoff, his exactions not interfering with their incomes, many of
those further down the river offered their services to Count Herbert,
if he would consent to lead them against the Baron, but the Count
pleaded that he was still a stranger in his own country, having so
recently returned from his ten contentious years in Syria, therefore he
begged time to study the novel conditions confronting him before giving
an answer to their proposal.

Copyright (c) 2007. famouswriterz.com. All rights reserved.