"Up! men of Beilstein!" he roared. "Your master is murdered. Surround his assassin and take him, dead or alive, to the castle. Beilstein! Beilstein!"
"I ask your protection, gentlemen," appealed Rodolph, turning to the remaining officers. "I claim adherence to the rule of the combat. I fought reluctantly, and only by compulsion. I demand the right to go without further opposition."
"Beilstein! Beilstein! Beilstein!" The cry reechoed through the town and soldiers came running from all quarters with weapons drawn.
"He speaks truth," said the Elector's man. "He has won his liberty, and may go for all I care."
"Not so," cried Winneburg. "It was no fair contest, but devil's swordsplay. To the castle with him and his brood."
The angry soldiery now pressed round Rodolph, but took good care to keep out of the reach of his flashing weapon.
"Get a pike," said one; "that will outreach him."
"Pikes, lances, pikes!" ran from mouth to mouth. Rodolph saw he must speedily be overpowered, and a scream from the affrighted women in the hands of the soldiery decided him to try a desperate remedy for a desperate case.
He sprang upon the prostrate body of his foe, and towering over the heads of the clamouring throng, raised his sword aloft and shouted, "The Archbishop! The lady is the Countess Tekla, ward of Arnold von Isenburg, insulted by these Moselle ruffians, while you cravens stand by and see it done. Officer, you have already nearly compassed your own damnation. Redeem yourself by instantly falling to the rescue. Treves! Treves! Is there an Archbishop's man within hearing? Treves! Treves! Treves!"
The Archbishop's officer at once gave the word, and his men, beating down opposition, formed around Rodolph and the Countess. Winneburg stood undecided, and before he made up his mind, the fight was over, the Beilstein men being demoralised for lack of a leader.