Part 10 (2/2)

”Forward!” he cried, and away clattered the two companies of hors.e.m.e.n in opposite directions.

It was toward the westward that Baron Henry of Trutz-Drachen rode at the head of his men.

The early springtide sun shot its rays of misty, yellow light across the rolling tops of the forest trees where the little birds were singing in the glory of the May morning. But Baron Henry and his followers thought nothing of the beauty of the peaceful day, and heard nothing of the mult.i.tudinous sound of the singing birds as, with a confused sound of galloping hoofs, they swept along the highway, leaving behind them a slow-curling, low-trailing cloud of dust.

As the sun rose more full and warm, the misty wreaths began to dissolve, until at last they parted and rolled asunder like a white curtain and there, before the pursuing hors.e.m.e.n, lay the crest of the mountain toward which they were riding, and up which the road wound steeply.

”Yonder they are,” cried a sudden voice behind Baron Henry of Trutz-Drachen, and at the cry all looked upward.

Far away upon the mountain-side curled a cloud of dust, from the midst of which came the star-like flash of burnished armor gleaming in the sun.

Baron Henry said never a word, but his lips curled in a grim smile.

And as the mist wreaths parted One-eyed Hans looked behind and down into the leafy valley beneath. ”Yonder they come,” said he. ”They have followed sharply to gain so much upon us, even though our horses are wearied with all the travelling we have done hither and yon these five days past. How far is it, Lord Baron, from here to Michaelsburg?”

”About ten leagues,” said the Baron, in a gloomy voice.

Hans puckered his mouth as though to whistle, but the Baron saw nothing of it, for he was gazing straight before him with a set and stony face.

Those who followed him looked at one another, and the same thought was in the mind of each--how long would it be before those who pursued would close the distance between them?

When that happened it meant death to one and all.

They reached the crest of the hill, and down they dashed upon the other side; for there the road was smooth and level as it sloped away into the valley, but it was in dead silence that they rode. Now and then those who followed the Baron looked back over their shoulders. They had gained a mile upon their pursuers when the helmeted heads rose above the crest of the mountain, but what was the gain of a mile with a smooth road between them, and fresh horses to weary ones?

On they rode and on they rode. The sun rose higher and higher, and hotter and hotter. There was no time to rest and water their panting horses. Only once, when they crossed a shallow stretch of water, the poor animals bent their heads and caught a few gulps from the cool stream, and the One-eyed Hans washed a part of the soot from his hands and face. On and on they rode; never once did the Baron Conrad move his head or alter that steadfast look as, gazing straight before him, he rode steadily forward along the endless stretch of road, with poor little Otto's yellow head and white face resting against his steel-clad shoulder--and St. Michaelsburg still eight leagues away.

A little rise of ground lay before them, and as they climbed it, all, excepting the baron, turned their heads as with one accord and looked behind them. Then more than one heart failed, for through the leaves of the trees below, they caught the glint of armor of those who followed--not more than a mile away. The next moment they swept over the crest, and there, below them, lay the broad s.h.i.+ning river, and nearer a tributary stream spanned by a rude, narrow, three-arched, stone bridge where the road crossed the deep, slow-moving water.

Down the slope plodded the weary horses, and so to the bridge-head.

”Halt,” cried the baron suddenly, and drew rein.

The others stood bewildered. What did he mean to do? He turned to Hans and his blue eyes shone like steel.

”Hans,” said he, in his deep voice, ”thou hast served me long and truly; wilt thou for this one last time do my bidding?”

”Aye,” said Hans, briefly.

”Swear it,” said the Baron.

”I swear it,” said Hans, and he drew the sign of the cross upon his heart.

”That is good,” said the Baron, grimly. ”Then take thou this child, and with the others ride with all the speed that thou canst to St.

Michaelsburg. Give the child into the charge of the Abbot Otto. Tell him how that I have sworn fealty to the Emperor, and what I have gained thereby--my castle burnt, my people slain, and this poor, simple child, my only son, mutilated by my enemy.

”And thou, my Lord Baron?” said Hans.

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