"We are ready, and invite you to begin!"

The animation which had hitherto supported the maiden gave way, and, all trembling, she descended the rough steps and returned to the castle.

The attack was at once begun. The a.s.sailants were not supplied with cross-bows or instruments for casting stones, and the palmer with the soldiers, who readily submitted to his command, could safely watch their operations from the battlements. Some with their battle-axes dashed into the moat and swam across to cut the chain which raised the bridge; but hardly had they reached the sh.o.r.e before they were struck down with stones hurled from the walls. The palmer's object was to hold out until nightfall, and create as much delay as was attainable. The sun was already half hidden behind the hills.

But the fall of the bridge now became inevitable. Their ammunition was exhausted, and three of the a.s.sailants, armed with axes, occupied the bridge, while others were arriving at intervals.

"Let us at least gain five minutes," exclaimed the palmer. "One sortie for the Pope and Rodolph of Suabia!"

The bars were withdrawn and the gallant band poured out.

"Suabia!" shouted the palmer, as he launched a heavy mace at one who was hewing at the chain, and felled him to the earth. With a well-aimed thrust he laid another at his feet, and so well was he seconded that the bridge was soon cleared. This gallant feat was greeted with cries of rage from their opponents on the other bank, many of whom, forgetting their heavy armor in their indignation, leaped into the water and sank, muttering idle imprecations. For some minutes the defenders held the bridge, but fearful of being intercepted, they made good their retreat and stood safe within the gate, without the loss of a man.

As further resistance was impossible, the bridge was abandoned to its fate, and was speedily lowered, amid the rejoicings and threats of the besiegers. It was now toward twilight, and the strong gate would baffle their efforts till dark. When that was won, the ballium and the inner wall could still be disputed.

"There is nothing to be done now," said the palmer to his companions; "and you had better go to the castle and take some refreshment, for we will soon have need of all our strength."

As they retired at his suggestion, he climbed to the crenelles and looked anxiously out upon the plain until the men returned; when, resigning the barbican to the warder, he went to receive the thanks of the Lady Margaret, who expressed her grat.i.tude for his services by waiting upon him in person.

The a.s.sailants had cut down a tree which they used as a battering-ram against the gate; but the stern bars were yet unbroken. It was now pitch-dark. A thunderstorm had suddenly gathered, and the report of the distant bolt came upon the ear, mingling with the still more appalling clash of the beam against the gate.

Brief indeed was the repose of the palmer before he was again at the embrasures. Bold as he was, he trembled as a blinding flash poured a flood of livid light over the plain and castle. It was not the sudden bolt that awed him; but the lightning streamed upon a host of armed men, stretching away as far as the eye could reach. They were not half a mile off. Another flash leaped out, and revealed a forest of spears. "It is the king himself!" muttered the palmer; "we will be surrounded by a host! G.o.d a.s.sist us, or we are lost!"

Such were the sounds that trembled on his lips as he abandoned his post.

Selecting the groom who had announced the enemy, he whispered to him:

"Do you wish to save your mistress?"

"With my life!" said the man.

"Then lead me to the postern gate."

In their impetuosity, the attacking party had neglected to blockade this avenue, before darkness prevented them from discovering it. The banks of the moat opposite the gate had been made shelving, so as to afford a means of retreat to the besieged, without giving any advantage to the besieger. When they had gained the postern and drawn back the bolts, the palmer said to his companion:

"Now, as you value life and honor, saddle the best three horses--one for yourself, one for your lady, the third for me--swim the moat, and wait till I come."

The groom promised obedience, and they separated--the groom to the stable, and the palmer in quest of the Lady Margaret. He found her in the midst of her dependents, praying in the oratory. It was a sight to make the heart bleed--that defenceless group, with tearful eyes and hands raised trembling to heaven, now starting as the iron gate groaned beneath the heavy blows, now glancing timidly around as the lightning streamed in upon them. The palmer stepped up to the maiden and drew her aside.

"You must fly with me!" he said.

"Why? Are we not safe?"

"Before one may count a hundred, we are surrounded by the whole army of the tyrant!"

This sudden and awful disclosure was too much for the frail maiden, already exhausted by watching and excitement. She grasped his wrist, and shuddering as she fixed her eyes on him, staggered forward, and would have fallen, had not the palmer caught her now unconscious form, and, raising it in his arms, pa.s.sed from the room. Through the gallery, down the staircase, along the portico he pa.s.sed, as swiftly as though he carried but a child. The wind came damp and cold against his cheek, the rain poured pitilessly upon his head, the arrowy lightning seemed to play around his feet, but manfully he hurried on with his precious charge. The gate was reached; he paused but an instant to hail the groom and take breath, then slid into the moat, and in a short s.p.a.ce stood safe upon the other side. Here he staid but to envelop the maiden in his own heavy cloak, which he had s.n.a.t.c.hed up when the rain began. As her consciousness was but imperfectly restored, the palmer mounted one of the horses and placed her before him. The groom, at his direction, sprang to the saddle and led the third animal.

When they were a little within the wood, the palmer exclaimed

"Can you find the road to Count Montfort's?"

The groom replied in the affirmative.

"Then take the lead, and strike it at the nearest point."

After groping for some minutes, they succeeded in hitting it, and, aided by the lightning, pursued their course as swiftly as the stormy night permitted.

The Lady Margaret was awakened to her situation only to pour forth torrents of tears. In vain the palmer tried to moderate her grief--she could scarcely be persuaded from returning.

The rain had now ceased, and as the clouds rolled away, they obtained light enough to continue their flight more rapidly and securely.

"Look!" cried the groom, as they stood on the top of a lofty hill. The palmer could scarcely repress an inclination to throttle his imprudent friend; for as the Lady Margaret turned her head, she saw a column of smoke and flame curling up, as if it warred against the skies.

"It is my father's castle!" she said. "Oh, what has become of those we left?" she added shuddering. "Let us trust in G.o.d!" murmured the palmer.

Brighter and brighter grew the flame--higher and higher rose the lurid column. Still the Lady Margaret continued to gaze on the fiery pillar.

At last the light suddenly expanded and burned awhile with intense brilliancy. It was but for a moment. Dimmer and dimmer grew the flame, and darkness soon settled over the ashes of Stramen Castle.

The palmer now placed the maiden upon the third horse, and led the way with his hand upon her bridle. Two hours more brought them to the fortress of Tubingen, where the brave Count Montfort, though refusing to join Rodolph, had designed to hold out to the last against his perjured and sacrilegious rival. The palmer demanded admittance in the name of Albert of Hers, and instantly obtained it.

The generous countess received the daughter of Stramen with open arms, and the count swore first to protect and then to avenge her. Nor was the palmer forgotten. Despite his ridiculous costume, now soiled and torn and stained with blood, he exhibited no embarra.s.sment when ushered into the presence of the n.o.ble group.

"The Lady Margaret would know her deliverer," said the countess.

The palmer removed his head-piece and threw back his hood.

"Do you remember me, my lady?" he asked, with a smile.

The maiden looked as one striving to recall a dream.

"Do you remember Ailred of Zurich, the minnesinger?"

Her cheek turned scarlet as she exclaimed, "Oh I how much I owe to you!"

"You owe me nothing, lady," returned Humbert.

"Is my life nothing?"

"If you prize that," was the reply, "reserve your thanks for him who made your safety my duty."

CHAPTER VIII

Hark to the trump and the drum, And the mournful sound of the barbarous horn, And the flap of the banners that flit as they're borne, And the neigh of the steeds, and the mult.i.tude's hum, And the clash, and the shout, "They come, they come!"

SIEGE OF CORINTH.

Rodolph was received with open arms by the Saxons. Dukes, counts, barons and gentlemen hastened to Merseburg, where, at a grand festival in his honor, he was solemnly acknowledged king of the Saxons. On every side the Saxons were flying to arms against their old enemy, and the princes unanimously advised the new monarch to march against his compet.i.tor, who had been recently again anathematized by the Papal legates. Rodolph, burning to retrieve his defeat and to save Suabia from further desolation, hearkened eagerly to suggestions that chimed so well with his own inclinations. He tarried only to wait the reinforcements of Welf and Berthold, and, hoping to expedite their union with him, marched upon Melrichstadt in Franconia.