The Count pondered a moment with lowering brows, then said, his face as malignant as that of a demon:
"Not so. My good brother of Treves has bought him, and I am too honest a trader to cheat the holy Archbishop, God bless him, of his purchase. We shall bind our worthy captain and straightway deliver him, as goods duly bargained for, to his owner, von Isenberg. Tear off his cloak and bind him, leaving his legs free that he may walk."
Surprise and delight gleamed in the captain's eyes. Merely to be delivered to the Archbishop of Treves, was getting well out of a predicament he had come to look upon as fatal. In spite of their fear of the master of Thuron, there were murmurs at this unexampled clemency, and Rodolph gave voice to the general feeling.
"I think, my Lord, that his treachery, not to speak of his usage of an innocent man, is inadequately punished by simply handing him over to the Archbishop, who assuredly will not molest him further."
But the Count made no answer. When the elbows of the criminal were securely bound, Heinrich said;
"Lieutenant, select a dozen of your best catapult men as guard to the prisoner. Bring with you the rope and take this Archbishop's man under close watch to the top of the north tower. Let a torchbearer precede us. Follow us, my Lord Rodolph, and you, fellow, who came so near to hanging."
When they reached the top of the north tower, Captain Steinmetz, with sudden premonition of his fate, now for the first time cried aloud for mercy, but the Count paid no heed to him. From this tower could best be descried the awful depth of the Thaurand's chasm, made the more terrible by the partial illumination of the moon adding a seeming vastness to the gulf, which the clearer light of day dispelled. The profound and narrow valley appeared gloomy and unfathomable, and on the opposite height above it gleamed the great white tent of the Archbishops.
"Bend back the catapult," commanded the Count.
The stalwart men threw themselves on the levers, and slowly worked back the tremendous arms of the engine, which bent grudgingly, groaning from long disuse. At last the claw-like clutches which held the incurvated beams in place until released by a jerk of the rope, snapped into position, and the catapult men, rising and straightening their backs from the levers, drew hand across perspiring brow.
"Take up the rope," said the Count to Conrad, who with visible reluctance lifted the release rope, and stood holding it.