"Very well. It would be an act of folly to withdraw now that we are apparently within sight of the goal. I will, therefore, double the time held to be required, and will remain your faithful ally for twenty days longer. If, at the end of that period, the castle is not in your possession, you will place no obstacle in the way of my retirement to Cologne. If that does not meet with your approval, then make a proposal to me."
"I agree, and would have agreed had you placed the limit at ten days, so confident am I that the garrison of Thuron are at this moment in the direst straits. If unforeseen circumstances make it necessary for you to retire at the end of twenty days, I also will retire at the same time, and thus we will share defeat as we would have shared victory. Meanwhile, I suggest that until the twenty days have expired, it is necessary for both you and me to remain in this camp, for the castle may fall at any moment, and I desire that we march through its gates together, and raise the flag of Cologne on one tower and the flag of Treves on the other. I trust there is nothing impending that will make your return to Cologne, during this time, imperative?"
"No. It is not necessary for me to be in Cologne until the middle of August. I have set the fourteenth of that month as the day on which the corner stone of my cathedral is to be laid, and I wish to have my hands free of blood and myself free from feud before then, so that God's blessing may rest on the edifice."
"Such a condition is most exemplary and most necessary," said the Archbishop of Treves, with some suspicion of a sneer in his tone. "I make no doubt but your cathedral will be a beautiful building, and thrice blessed in the admitted sanctity of its founder. Well; we shall have ample time for the cleansing of hands before the fourteenth, not that there has been much blood to smear them for the past two years, but if your mind is ill at ease, I shall be happy, in the interests of good architecture, to be your confessor, and send you to the laying of the foundation stone fully absolved. It is then agreed that for twenty days we remain partners."
Thus the two Archbishops concluded their bargain, thinking perhaps of many events that might intervene between their hope and its realisation, but giving no thought to the real thunder-cloud that had been gathering so long to the south of them, and having no knowledge of a young man at that moment making his way through the forest to the east of the Rhine, his face set direct for Frankfort.
CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE INCOGNITO FALLS.
John Surrey, the archer, stumbled wearily down the crumbling shale of the steep hill, guided by the low signal cry that sounded at intervals from the edge of the Moselle. He found, on arriving breathless at the river, that Conrad had secured a boat, which, pole in hand, he held against the bank while Rodolph stood on shore impatiently awaiting the coming of his henchman. They were too near Alken for any conversation to take place, and the moment Surrey arrived, the Emperor stepped into the skiff, motioning the archer to follow. Conrad pushed the boat away from the bank, and standing upright, poled it down stream, keeping close to the southern shore, so as to be in the deep shadow of the hills. There was, however, little need for extreme caution. The whole attention of the besieging forces was concentrated in keeping intact the line around the castle, and no thought was given to what was passing outside that circle. The contest had been going on so long that the country had come to look upon it as the natural condition of the locality, and ordinary traffic up and down the river went to and fro as usual. Three men were therefore unlikely to attract much attention merely because they were floating along the stream to that great thoroughfare of commerce, the lordly Rhine. The distance to Coblentz being slightly more than four leagues, and the current tolerably swift, the Emperor expected to reach the larger river before the day dawned, short as the nights were, and in this he was not disappointed. The expedition passed unchallenged into the Rhine, and continued across that river, coming to land opposite Coblentz. Here the archer, who had slept soundly during the voyage, set out to forage for food, while Conrad, his pouch well filled with the gold of the Archbishop of Treves, a quantity of the coin having been taken for use while they were within his Lordship's sphere of influence, began his search for three riding horses that would carry the party to Frankfort. The purchase was speedily effected, for there was a depot on each side of the river for the sale or hiring of steeds, merchants from Treves going by one bank to Mayence or along the other to Frankfort being the chief customers of these horse dealers. Conrad was instructed to proclaim himself an emissary of the Archbishop of Treves, should he be questioned, and the Emperor rightly anticipated that no one would undertake to molest the minion of so powerful and haughty a Prince. But Rodolph, not being certain what state of feeling existed between the Archbishop of Mayence and his proud brother of Treves, now in active alliance with Cologne, was not so sure that a proclamation of dependence on Treves would serve to protect them further up the river, and so resolved to avoid the Rhine route, striking instead across the country direct to Frankfort, taking as his path the hypotenuse of that huge triangle, at the three extreme points of which stood Frankfort, Mayence, and Coblentz. The distance as the crow flies is scarcely more than seventeen leagues, but Rodolph knew the way would be rough, up hill and down, with numerous streams to ford, and finally the Taurus range to cross, but the course seemed safer than risking detention by the Archbishop of Mayence, or by some stupid, obstinate robber Baron along the banks of the Rhine.
The early dawn was just breaking as, having finished the hastily-prepared meal—the first satisfactory and full repast the archer or Rodolph had enjoyed for some days—the three set off up the Rhine until the Lahn was crossed; then they struck into the pathless forest. At various points they engaged woodmen or charcoal burners to guide them, dismissing a man when he came to the limit of his local knowledge, and securing another when another was to be found. The legend of that journey remained in the district for many a long day, for each guide, instead of being cast aside with a blow for his trouble, as was the custom of the country, was given a bright gold coin with the effigy of the Archbishop upon it, each piece representing untold wealth to the happy possessor. It came ultimately to be rumoured that it was the Emperor himself who made this golden pilgrimage, and how such rumour had its origin no one can rightly surmise; but, although the tale is devoutly believed by the peasantry, careful historians have proved conclusively that it is a myth, for they show that the Emperor was then returning triumphantly from the Holy Land, and consequently must have approached Frankfort from the east, and not from the north.