CHAPTER VII
I BECOME A TRAITOR
Much was I flattered, and very naturally so, when Michael Texel made somanifest a work about pleasing me and having me for his comrade. Forthough I was now nineteen, he was five years my senior, and his father,being both Burgomeister and Chief Brewer, was of the first considerationin the town of Thorn.
"Hugo," said Michael Texel, "there be many lads in the city that arewell, and well enough, but none of them please me like you. It may bethat your keeping so greatly to yourself has made you passing thoughtfulfor your age. And whereas these street-corner scraps of rascaldom carefor nothing but the pleasing of pothouse Gretchens, we that are men thinkof the concerns of the State, and make us ready for the great things thatshall one day come to pass in Thorn and the Wolfmark."
I nodded my head as if I knew all about it. But, indeed, in my heart, Itoo preferred the way of the other lads--as the favor of maids, and otherlighter matters. But since one so great and distinguished as MichaelTexel declared that such things were but useless gauds, unworthy ofthought, I considered that I had better keep my tongue tight-reined as tomy own desires.
I shall now tell the manner of my introduction to the famous society ofthe White Wolf.
From the very first time that ever I saw him, Michael Texel had much tosay about a certain wondrous league of the young men of Thorn and theWolfmark. He told me how that every man with a heart in him wasenrolled among them: the sons of the rich and great, like himself; thesons of the folk of no account (like myself, doubtless); the soldiers ofthe Duke--nay, it was whispered very low in my ear, that even the youngCount Otho von Reuss, the Duke's nephew and heir, had taken high rank inthe society.
I asked Michael what were the declared objects of the association.
"See," he cried, grandly, with a wave of his hand, "this city of Thorn.It lies there under the Wolfsberg. With a few cannon like Paul Grete, theMargrave's treasure, Duke Casimir could lay our houses in ruins.Therefore, in the meantime, let us not break out against Duke Casimir.But one day there will come an end to the tyrant Duke. Tiles will notalways break harmless on helmets, nor the point of steel always be turnedaside by links of chain-armor. As I say, an hour will come for Casimir asfor other malefactors. And then--why, there is the young Otho. And he hassworn the vows of the White Wolf to make of Thorn a free city with aStadtholder--one with power and justice, chosen freely by the people, asin other Baltic cities. Is there a man of us that has not beenplundered?--a maid that does not go in fear of her honor while Casimirreigns? Shall this thing be? Not surely forever. The White Wolf shall seeto it. She has many children, and they are all dear to her. Let the DukeCasimir take his count with that!"
So, as was natural, I became after that more than ever eager to join thismost notable league of the White Wolf.
One night I had sat late talking to the Little Playmate, who was nowgrowing a great maid and a beautiful--none like her, so far as I couldsee, in all the city of Thorn--a circumstance which made me more ready tobe of Michael Texel's opinion with regard to any flighty andirresponsible courting of the maids of the town. For had I not thefairest and the best of them all at home close by me? On this night ofwhich I speak it was almost bedtime when I heard a knocking at the outerport, and went to open the wicket.
And lo! there was Michael Texel come all the way to the Red Tower for me,though it was by his own trysting that we had agreed to meet at the innof the White Swan. Nevertheless there he was. So there was nothing for itbut to bring him in. I presented him in form to the Little Playmate, whohad quite forgotten her Princess-ship by this time in the sweetness ofbeing our house-angel of the Red Tower.
I saw in a moment that Michael Texel was astonished at Helene's beauty,as indeed well he might be. But she, on her part, hardly so much asglanced at him, though he was a tall and well-grown youth enough, withnothing remarkable about him save pale hair of much the same color as hiscomplexion, and a cut on one side of his upper lip which in certainlights gave him a sneering expression.
But to Helene he spoke very carefully and courteously, asking her whethershe ever went to any of the Guild entertainments for which Thorn wasfamous. And upon her saying no--that my father did not think it fitting,Michael said, "I was sure of it; none could forget if once they had seen.For never in the history of Thorn has so fair a face graced Burgher danceor Guild festival, nor yet has a foot so light been shaken on the greenin any of our summer outgoings."
Now this was well enough said in its way, but only what I myself hadoften thought. Not that the Playmate took any notice of his words or wasin any degree elated, but kept her head bent demurely on her work all thetime Michael Texel was with us.
Presently there entered to us, thus sitting, Gottfried Gottfried, whohad come striding gloomily across the yard in his black suit from theHall of Judgment, and at his entrance Michael instantly became awkward,nervous, and constrained.
"I must be going," he said; "the Burgomeister bade me be early withindoors to-night."
"Is the noble Burgomeister lodging at the White Swan?" asked my father,with his usual simple directness, as he went hither and thither orderinghis utensils without heeding the visitor.
"No," said Michael, startled out of his equanimity; "he bides in his ownhouse by the Rath-house--the sign is that of the Three Golden Tuns."
The Red Axe nodded.
"I had forgotten," he said, indifferently, and stood by the greatpolished platter-frame over the sideboard, dropping oil on the screws ofa certain cunning instrument which he was wont to use in the elucidationof the Greater Question.
I could see Michael turning yellow and green, but whether with anger orfear I could not tell. Helene, who loved not the tools of my father, had,upon his entrance, promptly gathered up her white cobwebs and lace, andhad betaken herself to her own room.
"I must be bidding you a fortunate evening and wishing you an untroubledsleep," said Michael, with studious politeness, rising to his feet. Yethe did not immediately move away, but stood awkwardly fingering his hat,as if he wished to ask a question and dared not.
"It is indeed a fine place for a sound sleep," said my father, noddinghis head grimly, "this same upper courtyard of the Wolfsberg. There arefew that have once slept here, my noble young sir, who have ever againcomplained of wakefulness."
At this moment the hounds in the kennels raised their fierce clamor. And,without waiting for another word, Michael Texel took himself off downthe stairs of the Red Tower. Nor did he regain his composure till I hadopened the wicket and ushered him out upon the street.
Then, as the postern clicked and the familiar noises of the city fell onhis ear--the slapping flat-footed lasses crying "Fried Fish," the sellersof "Hot Oyster Soup," the yelling venders of crout and salad--Michaelgradually picked up his courage, and we proceeded down the High Street ofThorn to the retired hostel of the White Swan.
"Frederika," he cried, as he entered, "are the lads here yet?"
"Aye, sir, aye--a full muster," answered the old mild-faced hostess, whowas busily employed knitting a stocking of pale blue in the porch,looking for all the world like the sainted mother of a family of saints.
Michael Texel walked straight through a passage and down a narrowalley, the beautiful apple-cheeked old woman following us with her eyesas we went.
Our feet rang suddenly on hollow pavement as we stooped to enter a lowdoor in the side wall, almost concealed from observation by anovergrowth of ivy.
"Halt!" cried a voice from the dusk ahead of us, and instantly there wasa naked sword at each of our breasts. We heard also the click of swordsmeeting behind us. I turned my head, and lo! there at my very shoulder Isaw the gleam of crossed steel. My heart beat a little faster; but, afterall, I had been brought up with sights and sounds more terrible thanthese, and, more than that, I had within the hour seen Michael Texel, thehigh-priest of these mysteries, turn all manner of rainbow colors at thehowling of our blood-hounds and a simple question from my father. So Ijudged that these mighty terrifi
cations could portend no great ill to onewho was the son of the formidable Red Axe of the Wolfsberg.
Sometimes it is a mighty comfortable thing to have a father like mine.
I did not hear the question which was asked of my guide, but I heardthe answer.
"First in charge," said Michael Texel, "and with him one of theWolf's litter."
So we were allowed to proceed. But in the bare room which received us Iwas soon left alone, for, with another question as briefly asked andanswered, the click of swords crossed and uncrossed before and behindhim, and the screechy grind of bolts, Michael passed out of sight within.While as for me, I was left to twirl my thumbs, and wish that I hadstayed at home to watch the nimble fingers of the Playmate busy at hersewing, and the rounded slenderness of her sweet body set against thelight of evening, which would at that hour be shining through the windowsof the Red Tower.
Nevertheless, it was no use repining or repenting. Here was I, HugoGottfried, the son of the Red Axe, at the inner port of a treasonablesociety. It was certainly a curious position; but even thus early I hadbegun to consider myself a sort of amateur of strange situations, and Iadmit that I found a certain stimulus in the thought that in an hour Imight have ceased to be heir to the office of Hereditary Justicer of theducal province of the Wolfmark.
Presently through the door there came one clothed in the long whitegarments of a Brother of Pity, the eye-holes dark and cavernous, and theeyes shining through the mask with a look as if the wearer were much morefrightened than those who looked upon him.
"Child of the White Wolf," he said, in a shaking voice, "would you dareall and become one of the companions of the mysteries?"
But the accent of his voice struck me, the son of Gottfried Gottfried,the dweller in the enclosure of the Red Tower, as painfully hollow andpretentious. I had looked upon real terror, even plumbed some of thegrimmer mysteries of existence, and I had no fears. On the contrary, myspirits rose, and I declared my readiness to follow this paltering,knock-kneed Brother of Pity.
We stopped and went through another narrow passage, in the midst of whichwe were stayed by thin bars, which were shot before and behind us, and bya cold point of iron laid lightly against my brow. In this constrainedposition my eyes were bandaged by unseen fingers.
The starveling Brother of the Wolf took me by the hand and led me on.Then in another moment came the sense of lights and wider spaces, therustle of many people settling down to attention; and I knew that I wasin the presence of the famous secret tribunal of the White Wolf, whichhad been set up in defiance of the authority of the Duke and against thelaws of the Mark.