I did not expect such from you, but I have to admit the truth. Words, my Lord Count, are often more deadly than swords. The man of words who can keep his temper will ever rule the man of the sword. As you acted this morning you might guide an empire."
"And as I acted yesterday, I could not rule my own household," said Heinrich, dryly.
"So far as I am concerned, my Lord, yesterday is dead. I do not remember what happened. I deal only with to-day."
"Lord Rodolph," cried Heinrich, with sudden exultation, "we shall beat these villains yet."
"So the Countess Tekla has prophesied, and so I devoutly believe. In any case this conference has postponed attack for a few days. It will take some time for the Archbishops to adjust their differences, and who knows what may happen later?"
Whether the Countess should prove a true prophet or no remained to be seen, but Rodolph was quickly shown to be a false one.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE FIRST ATTACK ON CASTLE THURON.
It is doubtful if a nation or a military commander is strengthened by securing an ally, even though that ally be powerful. One determined man will wage war with more success than will a committee that commands a larger force. A general with an ally must be ever thinking of what that ally will do, or will not do. He is hampered at every turn, and must be careful not to take too much glory to himself or show himself a better warrior than the other.
As those within Castle Thuron afterwards discovered, what happened on the morning of the first attack was this. Count Bertrich in his original visit to Thuron and his ignominious departure therefrom, saw with quick military eye, which he allowed no personal feeling to obscure, that the gate, narrow though it was, offered the best means of capturing the stronghold. Once that was battered down, there would be a hot fight in the outer courtyard, then, resistance being overpowered by numbers, the castle belonged to the assaulters. His plan was approved by the Archbishop, who, however, was annoyed to find that his colleague of Cologne desired that Heinrich should be summoned in due form to surrender peacefully before hostilities commenced. To this proposal von Isenberg had to accede, and he did so the more readily as Bertrich assured him that the hot-tempered Count would make some insulting reply which would offend the northern Archbishop when it was reported to him. Although the cautious Arnold was usually most scrupulous in his observance of forms and ceremonies, he had been so angered in this instance, first by the successful flight of his ward, from under his very roof, and second by the contemptuous defiance of himself by his vassal, Heinrich of Thuron, whom he had always hated, that he was now eager to recover lost prestige, and to accomplish by instant overwhelming force the downfall of the Black Count. He was the less particular in this matter as it never occurred to him that his action might possibly come up for review and judgment by his own nominal over-lord the Emperor, for no Emperor in recent ages had commanded the slightest respect. When it is remembered that twenty-two years before the election of Rodolph, the Archbishop of Treves had captured the capital itself, Frankfort being the place where the election of Emperor was held, and, keeping the Archbishops of Cologne and Mayence outside the gates, proceeded himself to elect an Emperor, while the shut-out electors met under the walls and solemnly elected another, some idea may be formed of the slight influence an Emperor had over his proud and powerful vassals.
It was arranged that the force on the heights to the south of Thuron, concealed in the forest, should be augmented by others from the plain by the river, comprising a company of crossbow men and a troop of lancers, the first to harass the garrison while the gate was being battered down, the second to storm the castle when a breach was made for them. The attack was to be delivered when the embassy had retired after receiving the contumacious reply of Count Heinrich. The assault was to have been led by Count Bertrich and the envoy of Cologne, but when the two had reached the shelter of the forest, Bertrich's colleague refused to take part in the fray, until he had first acquainted his master with the purport of the conference at the gate of Thuron. By this time Count Bertrich felt that he had come badly off in his diplomatic bout with the Black Count, and the knowledge maddened him. He therefore told his ally that Cologne might do as he pleased, but Treves would attack immediately, and the two Archbishops might settle details after the castle was captured. Bertrich believed that his success in taking the fortress would more than blot out any resentment his master might feel for his failure in diplomacy, as he well knew the state of Arnold von Isenberg's mind regarding Count Heinrich; furthermore, he had not the slightest doubt that with the forces at his command, he would speedily be in possession of Castle Thuron.
So the envoy of the Archbishop of Cologne, attended by his guard, passed through the forest into the ravine of the Thaurand, and thus up to the heights of the Bieldenburg, where the tent of his master was situated.
Rodolph and Heinrich were still standing on the platform above the gate when they saw emerging from the forest a monster closely resembling the dragons which were supposed to infest the Rhine, but from whose baleful presence the Moselle had hitherto been free. Rodolph gazed at its coming with astonishment in his eyes, and the swarthy countenance of the Count seemed almost to blanch, for although that courageous man was not afraid of the Archbishops and their armies, he was in deadly fear of dragons. If their Lordships had invoked the aid of such, then was Thuron indeed doomed. But as the apparition came nearer it proved to be a huge oaken tree, stripped of its bark, advancing, butt foremost, towards the castle. On the underpart all the limbs had been lopped off, but at each side of it the branches remained, stripped of leaves and twigs, sprouting out like the fins of a gigantic fish to right and left. The great tree was borne aloft on the shoulders of more than twoscore men, who were distributed equally on either side of it, and so it advanced slowly, with its white body and gaunt branches, like an enormous centipede. It was evidently the intention of the carriers to throw the tree from their shoulders at the gate, and then taking it by the branches, half a dozen or more at each limb, swing it back and forth, using it as a battering ram to force in the gate. The men carrying this monster oak had still breath enough left to cheer as they advanced, and Count Bertrich, in the full armour he had worn at the conference, rode by the side of this strange procession encouraging the bearers by word and motion of the sword. From out of the wood, like the first flakes of a snow storm driven by a gale, came bolts from crossbows, the pioneer shafts falling far short of the walls, but gradually coming nearer as the bowmen the better estimated the distance. Bertrich waved his sword at those in the forest, indicating that a closer approach would please him better, and by and by the bolts began to strike against the walls and even fall into the courtyard.
The Black Count, as soon as he was assured that he had to contend with the things of this world only, took on at once the mien of a true commander. He ordered up his catapult men, and two stalwart fellows were speedily at the levers of the engine, working back the flexible arms of timber which acted as motive power for the huge balls of stone. As the bolts from the crossbows began to fall here and there on the walls, Heinrich turned to Rodolph and curtly ordered him to seek another portion of the castle.
"I am very well where I am," answered the Emperor. "I wish to see the result of the attack, and am also anxious to watch your practice with this engine."
The Black Count bent a look upon the younger man that was not pleasant to behold, but before he could speak again the other added hastily:
"I am wrong, my Lord; I go at once."
"When you have armour on you, I shall be glad of your company," said Heinrich, in a tone less truculent than his glance.
The Emperor, fearing to miss the issue of the fight, did not betake himself to the armoury to fit a suit to his body, but mounted to his eyrie on the south tower, where he found the archer watching the approach of the enemy with great interest. The catapult was at work, but doing no execution. It seemed impossible to predict where one of the huge pieces of rock it flung would alight; some went crashing into the forest and perhaps had an influence in frightening the crossbow men, although there was little indication of any such result, for the bolts came as thickly as ever, and were now so truly aimed that they harassed the defenders on the