"Because I was alone, my lord," answered the youth; "and knew not the way over the hills. They told me, too, that it was dangerous, and I thought the high road less so."
"Then, when left you Anweiler?" inquired Count Frederick. "On the following morning early," was the reply.
"Then, had you made as much speed as before," replied his lord, "you must have reached Ehrenstein before me, for I passed nearly two days at Zweibrücken."
"My horse cast a shoe," said Martin of Dillberg, with a varying countenance; but then a light seemed suddenly to come over it, and he added, "and I lost my way amongst the hills, and could not find it for some time, so that I was obliged to return to Anweiler."
"Where you passed a second night," said Count Frederick. "An excellently well told tale, but it will not serve your purpose, youth. Bring in the witnesses.--First, the good host from Anweiler."
Martin of Dillberg's countenance fell; and a great, burly, grey-haired man was brought in, and placed by his side.
"Now, mine host," said Count Frederick, "repeat what you told me about this good youth, the questions that he asked you, and the way that he took."
"Why, my good lords and noble gentlemen," replied the innkeeper, after looking a moment at Martin of Dillberg, as if to identify him, "there was no great harm in what he said, or in what I said, either. We were talking that night, when he first arrived, over a bottle of good Zeller wine, about the state of the country round, and I said, we should do very well, and be happy enough, and be well contented, for we had a number of good lords round who were kind to us, if it were not for that devil of a Baron of Eppenfeld, who robbed and pillaged wherever he thought fit, and plundered all the merchants that travelled our roads without a safe conduct from him; and then he said,--that is to say, the youth here,--that he should like to see this Baron of Eppenfeld much. I told him he had better not, for he might get himself skinned alive; but he only laughed, and asked the way to the castle--that's Eppenfeld, I mean."
"That was, that I might keep out of the way of the Baron," exclaimed Martin of Dillberg.
"May be," said the host; "but the next morning, before I went away, I left my woman to take the reckoning, and ambled off upon my ass to see how the vines were looking on the hill; and as I was going along the little path amongst the vineyards, just above the road, you know, where you look to Creuzberg, who should I see trotting along below me, at a quick pace, but this good youth here. I don't mean to say he was doing any harm; I know nothing about that; but I know he turned off the road, up the valley towards Eppenfeld. We call it Hell's Mouth, for few go in there that come back again; and if they do, it's in the form of devils."