Part 14 (1/2)

Thus it came about that Archbishop Werner of Falkenstein, owner of the grim fortress of Stolzenfels and a wealthy and powerful Churchman, was an amateur of the hermetic art, while his Treasurer, who was by no means rich, was also by way of being an alchemist. To indulge his pa.s.sion for the bizarre science the latter had extracted many a golden piece from the coffers of his reverend master, always meaning, of course, to pay them back when the weary experiments should have crystallized into the coveted philosopher?s stone. He had in his daughter Elizabeth a treasure which might well have outweighed the whole of the Archbishop?s coffers, but the l.u.s.t for gold had blinded the covetous Treasurer to all else.

One night?a wild, stormy night, when the wind tore shrieking round the battlements of Stolzenfels?there came to the gate a pilgrim, sombre of feature as of garb, with wicked, glinting eyes. The Archbishop was not at that time resident in the castle, but his Treasurer, hearing that the new-comer was learned in alchemical mysteries, bade him enter without delay. A room was made ready in one of the highest towers, and there the Treasurer and his pilgrim friend spent many days and nights. Elizabeth saw with dismay that a change was coming over her father. He was no longer gentle and kind, but morose and reserved, and he pa.s.sed less time in her company than he was wont.

At length a courier arrived with tidings of the approach of the Archbishop, who was bringing some n.o.ble guests to the castle. To the dismay of his daughter, the Treasurer suddenly turned pale and, brus.h.i.+ng aside her solicitous inquiries, fled to the mysterious chamber.

Elizabeth followed, convinced that something had occurred to upset her father seriously. She was too late?the door was locked ere she reached it; but she could hear angry voices within, the voices of her father and the pilgrim. The Treasurer seemed to be uttering bitter reproaches, while ever and anon the deep, level voice of his companion could be heard.

?Bring hither a virgin,? he said. ?The heart?s blood of a virgin is necessary to our schemes, as I have told thee many times. How can I give thee gold, and thou wilt not obey my instructions??

?Villain!? cried the Treasurer, beside himself. ?Thou hast taken my gold, thou hast made me take the gold of my master also for thy schemes.

Wouldst thou have me shed innocent blood??

?I tell thee again, without it our experiments are vain.?

At that moment the door was flung open and the Treasurer emerged, too immersed in his anxious thoughts to perceive the shrinking form of Elizabeth. She, when he had gone from sight, entered the chamber where stood the pilgrim.

?I have heard thy conversation,? she said, ?and I am ready to give my life for my father?s welfare. Tell me what I must do and I will slay me with mine own hand.?

With covetous glance the pilgrim advanced and strove to take her hand, but she shrank back in loathing.

?Touch me not,? she said, shuddering.

A look of malice overspread the pilgrim?s averted face.

?Come hither at midnight, and at sunrise thy father will be rich and honoured,? he said.

?Wilt thou swear it on the cross??

?I swear it,? he returned, drawing a little crucifix from his bosom, and speaking in solemn tones.

?Very well, I promise.? And with that she withdrew.

When she had gone the alchemist pressed a spring in the crucifix, when a dagger fell out.

?Thou hast served me well,? he said, chuckling. Then, replacing the crucifix in his breast, he entered the adjoining room, prised up a stone from the floor, and drew forth a leathern bag full of gold. This, then, was the crucible into which the Archbishop?s pieces had gone. ?I have found the secret of making gold,? pursued the pilgrim. ?To-morrow my wealth and I will be far away in safety. The fools, to seek gold in a crucible!?

Meanwhile preparations were afoot for the reception of the Archbishop.

Elizabeth, full of grief and determination, supervised the work of the serving-maids, while her father anxiously wondered how he should account to his master for the stolen pieces of gold.

The Archbishop was loudly hailed on his arrival. He greeted his Treasurer kindly and asked after the pretty Elizabeth. When her father presented her he in turn introduced her to his guests, and many a glance of admiration was directed at the gentle maid. One young knight, in particular, was so smitten with her charms that he was dumb the whole evening.

When Elizabeth retired to her chamber her father bade her good-night.

Hope had again arisen in his breast.

?To-morrow,? he said, ?my troubles will be over.? Elizabeth sighed.

At length the hour of midnight arrived. Taking a lamp, the girl crossed the courtyard to where the alchemist awaited her coming. She was not unseen, however; the young knight had been watching her window, and he observed her pa.s.s through the courtyard with surprise. Fearing he knew not what harm to the maid he loved, he followed her to the pilgrim?s apartment, and there watched her through a crack in the door.

The alchemist was bending over a crucible when Elizabeth entered.