Ompertz, looking at him in some wonder and a certain vague joy, was struck by the imperious determination in the old man’s face.
“Yes, Excellency. It would be no bad thing.”
Rollmar nodded. This ever-ready soldier of fortune afforded him some slight interest and amusement, and the acute judge of character could see the man’s honesty, and a deep-lying nobility under the wandering mercenary’s rough exterior. “The fellow, this Count Irromar, has played me a trick, and must pay for it,” he continued. Somehow Ompertz’s open nature seemed to invite confidence; an ordinary captain would have got nothing beyond bare orders. “So this castle,” he went on, “must be pulled or burned down about his head. And at once. Delay is out of the question, since I have reason to believe the Princess Ruperta is still a prisoner there.”
Ompertz had it on the tip of his tongue to reassure the Chancellor on that point, but checked the word in time, with a thrill at the danger into which he had so nearly been led. For in his mind was a great joy at the thought that if Ludwig were still alive this action might mean his release, surely the only chance left. If he knew that the Princess was no longer in the castle, Rollmar, a man above all not given to waste of energy or zeal, would doubtless abandon his project of sacking the place, finding it, moreover, no bad policy to leave the ousted Prince to his fate and the Count’s mercy. Neither did Ompertz judge it advisable to tell Rollmar of the Count’s departure, since he might then doubt whether the Princess were, after all, within the walls he proposed to raze. So, keeping his own counsel, he placed with alacrity his best service at the Chancellor’s disposal, and they went on towards the camp to bring up their array.
An hour later, the force advanced threateningly upon the castle, the front of which was now, in anticipation of an attack, barricaded against their approach. The windows were screened by iron shutters, and before the door a sort of portcullis was let down. Rollmar smiled grimly when he saw the ready preparations for defence.
“He has expected this for many a day,” he said; “it has come none too soon.”
Ompertz, to whom, as having the best knowledge of the place, the attack was entrusted, led the men tactically up the terraces. Having advanced, less, perhaps, to his surprise than Rollmar’s, without opposition right up to the building, a bugle was blown, and the place summoned to surrender. An iron shutter opened and old Gomer appeared.
“This castle,” he said, “will never surrender so long as there is a man left to garrison it. One word, gentlemen, before you commit yourselves to this vain business: I declare to you that you are greatly in error in attacking us. The Princess is not here, she is not within these walls, nor is there a soul here who knows where she is. Were these my last words I could not say otherwise. I swear to you before Heaven the lady is not in our keeping.”
Ompertz, who alone knew he spoke the truth, gave him the lie direct:
“Out, you lying old hound!” he cried. “If your word be true let us in to prove it.”