of the two Archbishops, and although that is no excuse for a grown man, still I think I persuaded her it was. She will, no doubt, forgive you, little as you deserve it."
"Forgive me!" cried the Count, angrily.
"Aye. We all need forgiveness, and I judge you are not so free from blame that your statue will be erected in the valley as the Saint Heinrich of your day. Come, my Lord Count, be a bear to your enemies if you like, but a lamb to your friends, whose scarcity you but last night deplored!"
"The Countess Tekla has refused to see me; she barred my own door against me."
"And quite right too. She is a girl of spirit, and worthy of her warlike ancestors. Therefore, the more proud should you be that she consents to take you by the hand this morning."
"But does she so consent?" asked the Count, dubiously.
"Come to the tower and see. Large minds bear no malice. We will signal to you when the meal is ready."
Rodolph found there was more difficulty in persuading Heinrich's wife to be one at the table with her lord, than there was in winning Tekla's consent, but at last all obstacles were removed and he escorted the ladies up the narrow winding stairs. The Countess Tekla was in unexpectedly high spirits, and she admitted to him gaily that she had been at her wit's end to know what they should do for breakfast, as all attendants had gone, and her uncle had shown no anxiety regarding their substance.
It was Tekla's first visit to the tall tower and she looked upon the marvellous scene spread before her with keen and enthusiastic appreciation. The sun had risen and the morning was already warm, but the skilful Surrey had spread an awning from flag pole to parapet, which shielded the table from its rays. The elder lady seated herself on one of the stools, and paid no attention to the view, awaiting with evident apprehension the coming of her husband. Tekla passed from point to point in the circle of the parapet and exclaimed joyously as the beauties of the landscape unfolded themselves to her. The deep, sombre, densely wooded chasm of the brawling little river Thaurand, from which in three variants, the castle took the several names that designated it, she had never until this moment beheld; the more familiar valley of the Moselle revealed new aspects at this height, not noticeable from the lower level of the battlements. Rodolph accompanied her and pointed out this and that, having himself eyes for nothing but the delighted and delightful girl, and thus, telling the archer to summon the Count, he paid no attention to Surrey's method of doing so, which might not have met his approval. The Count was standing at the edge of the battlements gazing abstractedly down upon the village of Alken, his arms folded across his breast and his back towards the tower. The bowman deftly notched an arrow on the string and let fly with such precision that its feather must have brushed the Count's ear. The amazed and startled man automatically smote the air and his ear with his open hand as if a bee had stung him, and sprang several yards from where he had been standing, glaring angrily round, wondering whence the missile had so unexpectedly come.
"My Lord," said the archer, deferentially, leaning over the stone coping and motioning with his bow, "breakfast is ready."
For a moment the Count stood as one transfixed, then a reluctant smile made itself visible through his thick beard, and he strode along the promenade, disappearing down the steps.
A few moments later he was on the platform of the tower, visibly ill at ease. His eyes were on his niece, seemingly in doubt regarding the nature of her reception of him. The girl on hearing his steps had turned away from the parapet, and now stood somewhat rigidly with heightened colour, waiting for him to approach her.
"Tekla," he began, but she quietly interrupted him, saying:
"When you have greeted my aunt, I shall be glad to receive your salutations."
Heinrich was taken aback at this. He had not thought of looking at his wife, but now he glanced at her shrinking form cowering on the stool. He took a step forward, and placed his hand roughly on her shoulder.
"Wife—" he said, and paused, not knowing what to add, until sudden inspiration seemed to come to him, and he cried, masterfully: "We are surrounded by enemies, but we will beat them off, damn them!"
"Yes, my Lord," whispered his spouse, meekly, trembling under his heavy hand. Tekla laughed merrily, and sprang forward to him, flinging her arms about him, to his great embarrassment.
"You great Swartzwald bear!" she cried, "of course you will beat them. I am sure no one can stand up against you."
"Tekla," he protested, with visible discomposure, "that is the Archbishops' tent on the heights. They can see us."
"Let them!" cried the girl, waving her hands towards the large tent. "This is my uncle, Heinrich of Thuron, surnamed the Black, my Lords and Archbishops, and we hurl defiance at you, for he fears you neither separately nor together."
The Black Count smiled grimly, and very soon they were all seated at breakfast, Rodolph and Tekla bearing the burden of the conversation, the Count and his wife adding but little to it. It was easily seen that Heinrich's mind was not on his meal, but on what was passing in the valley, where his uneasy eye wandered ever and anon.
As the breakfast ended and the Countess Tekla was congratulating the archer on its excellence, there came up to them a fan-fare of trumpets, and all saw, issuing from the forest to the south, an impressive cavalcade, headed by Count Bertrich, at whose side rode another, seemingly his equal in rank, and quite his superior in equipment, whom Rodolph at once recognised by his blazonry as the representative of the Archbishop of Cologne. Behind these two rode a group of perhaps threescore men, all gaily bedecked and fully armed. Five or six horse-lengths in front of this notable procession came four heralds holding long trumpets from which depended gay silken banners in gorgeous colours, setting forth, two the arms of Treves, and two the arms of Cologne. As the cavalcade advanced the trumpeters raised bugles to lips and gave forth the musical notes that had first attracted the attention of those on the tower. The Count sprang instantly to his feet, Rodolph also rising.
"A demand of surrender," said the latter, "about to be set forward with due ceremony and circumstance. I must say the Archbishops acquit themselves creditably."
"Will you attend me while I make reply?" asked the Count, of Rodolph.
"Surely," returned the other.
"I should be glad of your counsel," continued Heinrich, "and of some slight hint regarding the choice of words to be used. We have usually fallen to without so much preliminary flourishing at Thuron, and I am not versed in the etiquette of the occasion."
"Answer slowly," said the Emperor, "taking ample time to consider each question, and if there is any hint to give, I will whisper it to you."
The two men departed down the stairs, leaving at least one interested spectator of the conference about to take place. The elder woman remained where she was, with her hands folded on her lap; the Countess Tekla leaning against the parapet, saw her uncle and Rodolph, attended by Captain Steinmetz and a guard of lancers, mount the platform above the gates, while the imposing troop of horsemen came to halt amidst another blast from the trumpets.
CHAPTER XXI.
AN EXPERIMENT IN DIPLOMACY.
In loud and sonorous voice Count Bertrich spoke, his words plainly heard by all on the castle walls and even far down the valley.
"Heinrich of Thuron, sometime Count Palatine, now deposed by lawful authority duly proclaimed, you are summoned to surrender the Castle of Thuron at present held by you, to the custody of his High Puissant and Reverend Lordship, Konrad von Hochstaden, Archbishop of Cologne, and his ally, the High Puissant and Reverend Lordship, Arnold von Isenberg, Archbishop of Treves, and in event of such summons not being instantly obeyed, your life is declared forfeit and all within your walls outlaws."
"Ask him," whispered the Emperor, "on what authority this summons is delivered."
"On whose authority do you