Before Tekla could reply a wild cheer went up from the further courtyard, echoed by a fainter cheer outside the castle. Rodolph started to his feet and listened as the acclamations continued.
"Run, Hilda," cried the Countess. "Find the cause of the outcry and bring us tidings of it."
When the girl breathlessly returned she said they were hoisting on the great southern tower the broad flag of Thuron, and that the people were cheering as if they were mad, but the cause of it all she could not learn.
"The Archbishop's army is very likely in sight," said Rodolph, "although how that can be, unless Arnold has sent it close on Bertrich's heels, I cannot understand. Perhaps Bertrich has met it between the castle and Cochem and has returned with it. Let us go and see."
CHAPTER XVI. THE COUNTESS TRIES TO TAME THE BEAR.
Once more Tekla and Rodolph found themselves on the battlements. The flag hung listless at the top of the pole in the still air, as if the time for action had not yet arrived. On a hill summit further up the river another flag was fluttering, and on the other side, still more distant, a third flag was being slowly raised against the sky. Whether or not this betokened the coming of the Archbishop, Rodolph could not determine. The nearer flag seemed to be of the same design as the one that hung over Thuron; the third flag was too far away to allow its character to be discerned. The line of peasants winding up from the river and stretching along the banks had taken up the cheering which echoed lustily from hill to hill. It was evident that that most infectious malady, the war spirit, was abroad, for fighting songs, ringing and truculent, with swinging, inspiring choruses, were being chanted in the village and along the river. Some rumour or suspicion of what was going forward had undoubtedly permeated the mass of people collected within and under shadow of the castle; Rodolph felt the enthusiasm of coming battle in the air. Yet these people had always been tyrannised over by the Black Count, and this was probably the first time he had paid for what he took from them. Nevertheless, they were shouting for him, and woe betide the man who now raised his voice against him. As Rodolph looked on in wonderment, the Black Count himself came up the steps that led to the lofty promenade, and there was a gleam of fierce delight in his dark eye as he swept it over the animated scene. Some of the songs sung had evidently not been intended as complimentary to the Count when they were originally composed, but now the singers had either forgotten the first import of the words, or had added others that turned censure into laudation. The burden of the chorus in one of them was "The Devil is black," a line oft repeated, and ending with a phrase which betokened the ultimate fate of his sable majesty. Although some unthinkingly, carried away by the enthusiasm of the occasion, repeated the old ending, the majority gave the new rendering, which was to the effect that their devil was more than a match for any other devil in existence. The Count as he approached the two young people standing by the parapet, had shaken off much of his habitual gloom, and was even humming to himself the catching refrain referring to the blackness of the devil, quite unheeding any personal reference it might contain.
"Good day to you, my Lord Count," said Rodolph. "You have had little rest since I last spoke with you. Do the flags on the hill-tops betoken the coming of Treves?"