THE CHARM OF THE OLD WORLD ROMANCES – Premium 10 Book Collection. Robert Barr

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      CHAPTER XV.

       CASTLE THURON MAKES A FULL MEAL.

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      The sun, shining through one of the narrow slits in the circular wall, striking on Rodolph's face, woke him next morning, and when he sat on his straw pallet he saw that the door had been unbarred and thrown partly open. He walked down into the quiet courtyard, with its neglected garden, and glanced up at the windows of the suite of rooms which the women of the castle inhabited, but saw no signs of any of them. Passing through a hall he entered the outer courtyard, where the day before he had dismounted after his journey. The gates were wide apart, and the courtyard itself looked like a city market-place. The scene was one of hurry and animation. The enclosure was filled with rude carts, and with lowing cows and oxen that had drawn them, steaming after the exertion of dragging their heavy loads up the steep hill. A procession of others, waiting their turn, extended through the gateway and along the hillside road that led to it. The Black Count himself superintended the intake of sacks of grain and casks of wine, estimating rather than accurately measuring their value, and paying with his own hand for what was thus brought to his doors. Count Heinrich, like many other nobles of his time, had the right to coin gold and silver, and his mint-master had been busy all night striking off pieces of different sizes, each with a rude effigy of the Count on one face of the coin, and its value in Roman numerals on the other.

      Heinrich seemed to be driving generous bargains, loudly demanding what the owner thought his contribution worth, and when the sum was tremblingly named, giving often more than was asked, but never less. He acted like a man who had long defied public opinion, but who now, for reasons of his own, preferred to court it, not knowing how soon he might be in some measure dependent upon it. Rodolph learned that before midnight the wine from the upper valley had begun to come in, and that the Count, having been in council with his captains until that hour, had gone forth to make payment by torchlight, while his mint-master sent him from the cellars of the castle, bags of currency still warm from the crucible. Heinrich showed no sign of fatigue, but was as alert as any, standing on the stone steps that led to the castle door, a head or more above the throng, while two secretaries counted out the sums he demanded and handed them to him from the bags at his feet. His eagle eye covered the whole scene, and now and then when the incomers and outgoers became jammed in an apparently indissolvable tangle, wheels interlocking, and goads falling ineffectually on the patient backs of the cattle, the Count with stentorian voice and eloquent gesture would command one to back here, another to go forward there, whereupon the knot would be speedily unloosed and the business go forward as it should.

      If the stout Heinrich had little mercy on himself he had none at all on his servitors. Panting men struggled with heavy sacks on their backs, disappearing through the open archway that led to the cellars, emerging empty handed, drawing sleeve across sweating brow, to bend back instantly under a fresh burden and return. Full casks of wine were rolled and lowered out of sight, as if the castle were some huge open-jawed monster who was swallowing a gigantic meal with little sign of repletion. Did a man pause but a moment to fill his lungs with the fresh morning air, the all-encompassing eye of the master had singled him out and a roar of rage made all within hearing tremble. It was evident that peasant and servitor alike, officer and foot soldier, were in deadly terror of the Black Count.

      Rodolph made his way up to the battlements and looked down on this stirring scene. Then he walked along the walls to gain some idea of the castle's strength and situation. There was a broad level promenade parallel to the river front, protected by a strong machicolated parapet. The promenade ran due north and south, and was nearly a hundred yards in length. At each end of the castle, but some distance back from the front, rose a round tower, the north tower being slightly lower than its brother. Behind the north tower was a precipitous wooded cliff falling steeply down to the little river Thaurand. The northern, eastern, and southern sides of the slope, at the top of which the castle stood, were densely wooded. The western slope, descending some hundreds of feet to the Moselle, was covered with vines, through which, beginning near the northern end of the stronghold, ran at steep incline the stout wall that ended at the river, carrying on its back here and there a stumpy square stone guard-house. Clustered at the foot of this wall, and stretching along the edge of the Moselle, lay the small village of Alken, over which was thrown the dark shadow of the Black Count's castle. Beyond it flowed the broad smooth river, placid as a sheet of glass, reflecting, far down, the forest-covered hills of its western bank.

      At the junction of the hollow river wall with the castle, there stood on the terrace, at either side of the up-springing causeway, a huge, clumsy catapult, one commanding the northern face of the wall coming up from the river, the other the southern side. Here and there, at the edge of the promenade furthest from the parapet, were piled, with some attempt at symmetry, many hundreds of round pieces of granite, each considerably larger than a man's head, and each weighing as much as a man might care to lift. These spheres were ammunition for the catapult, and Rodolph saw that the Count appreciated not only the necessity of guarding his way to the river, but also the difficulty the Archbishop's men would find, in the face of hurling granite, to force a breach in the stonework. All in all, Arnold had a hard nut to crack in Castle Thuron, defended as it was by a man of resource and resolute determination.

      On the opposite shore of the river Rodolph saw collected many ox-carts, while the three boats which the day before had been drawn up on the bank at Alken, were busy ferrying over the produce brought by the carts. Sturdy villagers with bags on their backs were slowly plodding up the hill to the castle, ignoring the zig-zag road, and coming steeply and straight up the lanes between the rows of vines.

      As Rodolph leaned against the stone parapet watching the villagers crawling like laden ants up the slopes, he was accosted by the cheery voice of the English archer.

      "I hope you have slept well, my Lord," he said.

      "Excellently. And you?"

      "Never better. With the blue sky above me and my mind at peace with all the world; a bed of moss and a sloping hillside, that the water may speedily run away should СКАЧАТЬ