"That is as may be," answered the Captain, with lowering brow. "What is your business with my Lord the Count, and who is the lady that accompanies you?"
"My business I will relate to the Count himself. The lady is the Countess Tekla, niece of Count Heinrich and sometime ward of Archbishop Arnold von Isenberg of Treves. If you have further questions to ask, it may be well to put them to your master, for my patience is at an end, and I am unaccustomed to the cross-examination of my inferiors. There is a chance that Count Heinrich may thank you for this delay, and a chance that he may not; you know him better than I, so act as best pleases you under that knowledge."
The Captain gave a whistle of astonishment when the name and quality of the lady were mentioned, and instantly saluted with his sword the man whom a moment before he had treated with scant courtesy. The truculence disappeared from his manner, and he said, with some eagerness:
"I shall be pleased to act immediately as your convoy to the castle, my Lord."
"Nothing could be more satisfactory," replied Rodolph.
The Captain gave the word to his men, who formed in line, some before and some after the visitors, and thus the procession made way through the village and up the zig-zag path that led to the castle, a rugged slanting road rising higher and higher at each turn, and disclosing broader and broader views of the charming valley of the Moselle. The scene was peaceful in the extreme, and, but for the clatter of armed men, one might have imagined that no such thing as conflict could exist in all that region. On the hilltop, beyond the river, Rodolph could see that Count Bertrich had come to himself, had captured the remaining horse, and was transferring the accoutrements of his own animal to the new mount.
While Rodolph was watching his late opponent with keen interest, wondering whether the Count would betake himself to Cochem, or persist in his quest and visit Thuron, Tekla spoke to him.
"My Lord," she said, "you have somewhat neglected me of late, and I am still in ignorance of what happened when you so unceremoniously turned me off the hilltop. I trust you are unhurt."
"Not only unhurt, but untouched, Countess, thanks, not to my own prowess, but to the marvellous skill of the English archer, who annihilated the foe like a necromancer with a touch of his wand."
"Is Count Bertrich slain then?" she asked, with a shudder.