“‘Tis likely; but I deal in cloth, not in food, and therefore cannot speak definitely without computation and the advice of those expert in the matter.”
“Very well, Herr Goebel; get your computations made as soon as possible. Call together your merchants’ guild, and ask its members—By the way,” said Roland, suddenly checking himself, “give to me in writing the amount of gold I have sent you.”
The unsuspecting merchant did so, and Roland’s eyes opened with astonishment when he glanced at the total. He then placed the paper in the wallet he carried.
“You were perhaps about to suggest that a committee be appointed,” ventured the merchant.
“Yes; a small but capable committee, of which you shall be chairman and treasurer. But first you will ask the merchants to subscribe, out of their known wealth, a sum equaling the gold I filched from the Barons.”
The merchant’s face fell, and took on a doleful expression.
“The times, your Highness, have long been very bad, none of us making money—”
The Prince held up his hand, and the merchant ceased his plaint.
“If I can strip a Baron of his wealth,” he said, “I will not waste words over the fleecing of merchants. This contribution is to be given in the name of the three Archbishops, whose heavy hands came down on you after the late insurrection. The Archbishops have now nine thousand troops in Frankfort. If given leave, they will collect the sum three times over within a very few hours; so you, as chairman of the committee, may decide whether the fund shall be a voluntary contribution or an impost gathered by soldiery: it matters nothing to me. Have it proclaimed throughout the city that owing to the graciousness of the three Archbishops starvation is now at an end in Frankfort.”
“Highness, with your permission, and all due deference, it seems rather unjust that we should contribute the cash and lose the credit.”