Both reined in their horses as if moved by the same impulse, but to retreat now would simply draw pursuit upon them. Mounted on a splendid white charger, gorgeous with trappings, glittering with silver and gold, rode a dignified man in the outdoor habit of a general in times of peace.
Following him came an escort of twoscore horsemen; they in the full panoply of war; and behind them, on foot, in procession extending like a gigantic snake down the Rhine road, an army of at least three thousand men, the setting sun flashing fire from the points of their spears. Here and there, down the line, floated above them silken flags, and Roland recognized the device on the foremost one.
“God!” he shouted in dismay. “The Archbishop of Cologne!”
The girl uttered a little frightened cry, and edged her horse nearer to that of her escort.
“My guardian! My guardian!” she breathed. “I shall be rearrested!”
Seeing them standing as if stricken to stone, two horsemen detached themselves from the cavalry and galloped forward.
“Make way there, you fools!” cried the leader. “Get ye to the side; into the river; where you like; out of the path of my Lord the Archbishop.”
Nevertheless Roland stood his ground, and dared even to frown at the officers of his Lordship.
“Stand aside you,” he commanded in a tone of mastery, “and do not venture to intrude between the Archbishop and me.”
The rider knew that no man who valued his head would dare use such language in the very presence of the Archbishop, unless he were the highest in the land. His dignified Lordship looked up to see the cause of this interruption, and of these angry words.