CHAPTER VIII
AT THE BAR OF THE WHITE WOLF
"Who waits at the bar with you, brother?" said a voice which, thoughdisguised, carried with it a suggestion of Michael Texel.
The announcement was made by the officer who brought me in.
"'Tis one Hugo Gottfried, son of Gottfried Gottfried, hereditaryexecutioner to the tyrant."
I could hear the thrill of interest which pervaded the assembly at theannouncement. And for the first time I thought almost well of thehonorable office to which I had been born.
"And what do you here, son of the Red Axe, in the place of the SacredFehme of the White Wolf?"
The question was the first addressed directly to me.
"I came," said I, as straightforwardly and simply as I could, "withMichael Texel, because he asked me to come. And also because I heard thatthere was good ale to be had for the drinking at the White Swan of Thorn,where we are now met."
A low moan of horror went about the assembly at the frivolity of myanswer, which plainly was not what had been expected.
"Daring mocker!" cried a stern voice, "you speak as one unacquainted withthe dread power of the White Wolf, which has within her grasp the keys oflife and death--and has suckled great empires at her dugs. Beware, temptnot the All-powerful to exercise her right of axe and cord!"
"I do not tempt any," answered I, boldly enough--yet with no credit tomyself, for I could have laughed aloud at all this hollow pretence,having been brought up within the range of that which was no mockery. "Iam willing to become a loyal member of the Society of the White Wolf forthe furtherance of any honest purpose. All things, I admit, are not wellwithin the body politic. Let us, in the city of Thorn, strive after thesame rights as are possessed by the Free Cities of the North. If that beyour object, the son of the Red Axe is with you--with you to the death,if need be. But for God's sake let us take off these masks and setourselves down to the tankard and the good brown bread with lessmummery--a sham of which others have the reality."
"Peace, vain, ignorant fly!" cried the same speaker, one with a youngvoice, which he was trying, as I thought, to make grave and old; "terrormust first strike your heart, or you cannot sit down with the Society ofthe White Wolf. You stand convicted of blasphemy against this our ancientand honorable institution--blasphemy which must be suddenly and terriblypunished. Hugo Gottfried, I command you--make your head ready for thestriker. Bare the neck and bow the knee!"
But I stood as erect as I could, though I felt hands laid upon myshoulders and the breathing of many close about me.
"Knights and gentlemen," said I, "I am not afraid to die, if need be. Butere you do your will upon me, I would fain tell you a tale and give you awarning. Here I am one among many. I am also of your opinion, if youropinion be against tyranny. But for God's sake seek it as wise men andnot as posturing knaves. As for Michael Texel--"
"Name not the mortal names of men in this place of the White Wolf!" saidthe same grave voice.
At which I laughed a little.
"If you will tell me what to say instead in the language of theimmortals, I will call my friend by that name. Till then MichaelTexel, I say--"
I was pulled by force down upon my knees.
"Your pleasure, gentlemen," said I, as coolly as I might; "you may dowith me as you will, but give me at least leave to speak. Your meetingshere at the White Swan are known to the Red Axe, my father, and thereforeto the Duke Casimir."
A low groan filled the wide hall. I could feel that my words touched themon the raw.
"Also this very night I saw one of your noblest members tremble withalarm--for the Society, not for himself, I warrant--when GottfriedGottfried spake lightly of your meetings here as of a thing well known.I am not afraid of my life. In the sight of my father I went forth fromthe Red Tower in the company of Michael Texel. He knew of your place ofmeeting. And well I wot that if I am not within the precincts of theRed Tower by midnight, the officers of Duke Casimir and his JudgmentHall will come knocking at these doors of yours. I ask you, are youready to open?"
"Rash mortal!" said the voice again to me, "you mistake the White Wolf ifyou think that she or her children are afraid of any tyrant or of hisofficers. You yourself shall die, as has been appointed. For none mayspeak lightly of the White Wolf and live to tell the tale!"
"So be it," I replied, calmly; "but first let me recount to you the storyof Hans Pulitz. Not for the hiding of a belt of gold, as men say, was hecondemned. But because he had plotted against the life of the Duke and ofhis minister of justice, the Red Axe. Would you know what happened? Iwill tell you briefly:
"Ten men, accounted strong, held Hans Pulitz. Ten men could scarce leadhim through the court-yard to the chair on which sat Duke Casimir. I sawhim judged. Was he not of the White Wolf? Did the White Wolf save him?Have her teeth ravened for those that condemned him? Or have you that areof that noble society kept close in your halls and played out your puppetshows, while poor Hans, who was faithful to you to the end,went--whither?"
A sough of angry whispering filled the room, rising presently into a roarof indignation.
"Traitor! Murderer! Spy!" they cried.
"Nay," said I, "'fore God, Hugo Gottfried was more sorry for the poordeceived slave than any here. For, in the presence of the Duke, I criedout against the horror. But being no more than a boy, I was stricken tosilence by the hand of a man-at-arms. Then I saw Hans Pulitz cast loose.I saw him seized by one man--even by the Red Axe--raised high in the air,and flung over the barriers among the ravening and leaping blood-hounds.I heard the hideous noises that followed--the yells of a man fighting forhis life in a place of fiends. I shut my ears with my hands, yet could Inot shut out that clangor of hell. I shut my eyes, closer than you haveshut them for me now. I fled, I knew not where, terror pursuing me. Andyet I saw, and do now see, the Duke sitting with crossed hands as if atprayers, and the Red Axe standing motionless before the men-at-arms,pointing with one hand to the Duke's vengeance! Shall I tell you now whyI am not afraid?"
After hearing these words it was small wonder that they cried yet moreagainst me.
"Death to the traitor--bloody death--like that which he has rejoiced in!"
"Nay, my friends," said I, "it was because of the death of Hans Pulitzand that of others that I would strengthen the hands of liberty and makean end of tyranny. But not, an' it please you, with child's plays and thecast-off garmentry of tyrants. What can you do to me in the Inn of theSwan that can equal the end of poor Hans Pulitz--of whom they foundneither bone nor hair, took up no fragment of skin or nail, save thegolden chain only, tooth-scarred and beslavered, which he wore about hiswaist. And the belt you may see for yourselves any day if you give meyour company within the Red Tower."
Now, as may well be understood, if the Society of the White Wolf wasangry before, it was both angry and frightened now, which is a thinginfinitely more dangerous.
"Let him die straightway! Let the taunting blasphemer die!" they cried.And again, for the third time, the hollow voice pronounced my doom.
"It is well," I shouted amid the din. "It is thrice well. But look ye toit. By the morrow's morn there shall not be one of you in yourbeds--aye, and those whose heads are rolled in the dust shall countyourselves the fortunate ones. For they at least will escape the fate ofpoor Hans Pulitz."
Now sorely do I wonder, at this distance of time, that they did not slayme in good earnest. But I have learned from that night in the Inn of theSwan that when defiance has to be made, it is ever best to deal in nohalf-measures. And, besides, coming from the Red Tower of the Wolfsberg,their precious Society of the White Wolf, with its mummery and flummery,filled me with a hot contempt.
"Kneel down!" cried the judge; "lay your head on the block! It has oftenbeen wet with the blood of traitors, never with that of a blacker traitorthan Hugo Gottfried!"
So with that those about me thrust me forward and forced my head down. Iwas obliged to clasp the block with both my hands. As I did so I felt itwell all over. Then
I laughed aloud, with a laugh that must have appearedstrange and mad to them.
For this their mock tribunal could not deceive one who had been broughtup within the hum of judges of life and death, and with a father who ashis daily business propounded the Greater and Lesser Questions. And theirprecious block, as smooth as sawn and polished timber, with never a notchfrom side to side, could not take in Hugo Gottfried, who had made aplaymate and a printed book of the worn blocks of a hundredexecutions--to whom each separate chip made by the Red Axe had been atext for Gottfried Gottfried to expatiate upon concerning his own prowessand that of his fathers.
Nevertheless, it certainly gave me a strange turn when ice-cold steel waslaid across my neck-bone. It burned like fire, turning my very marrow towater, and for the first time I wished myself well out of it. But onlyfor a moment.
For there came a loud rattling of arms without, a thunderous andinsistent knocking at the door, which disturbed the assembly.
"Open, in the name of the Duke!" cried, clamorously, many fierce voiceswithout. I heard the rush and scuffle of a multitude of feet. The handsthat had held me abruptly loosened their grip, and I was free. I raisedmy bound wrists to my brow and tried to push the bandage back. But it wasfirmly tied, and it was but dimly that I saw the hall of the White Wolffilled with the armed men of the Duke's body-guard, boisterouslylaughing, with their hands on their sides, or kicking over the mockthrone covered with white cloth, the coils of rope, the axes of paintedwood, and the other properties of this very faint-hearted Fehmgericht.
"But what have we here?" they cried, when they came upon me, bound andhelpless, with the bandage only half pushed off my eyes.
"Heave him up on his pins, and let us look at him," quoth a burlyguardsman. "I trust he is no one of any account. I want not to seeanother such job done on a poor scheming knave like that last, when theDuke Casimir settled accounts with Hans Pulitz!"
"Ha! ha!" laughed his companion; "a rare jest, i' faith; 'tis the son ofour own Red Axe--a prisoner of the White Wolf and ready for the edge. Wecame not a moment too soon, youngster. What do you here?"
"Why," said I, "it chanced that I spoke slightingly of their preciousnonsense of a White Wolf. But they dared not do me harm. They were allmore frightened than a giggling maiden is of the dark, when no man iswith her."
Then I saw my father at the end of the hall. He came towards me, clad inhis black Tribunal costume.
"Well," he said, quaintly, like one that has a jest with himselfwhich he will not tell, "have you had enough of marchinghand-in-glove with treason? I wot this mummery of the White Wolf willserve you for some time."
I was proceeding to tell him all that had passed, but he patted me onthe shoulder.
"I heard it all, lad, and you did well enough--save for your windinessabout liberty and the Free Cities--which, as I see it, are by far theworst tyrannies. But, after all, you spoke as became a Gottfried, and oneday, I doubt not, you shall worthily learn the secrets, bear the burden,and enlarge the honors of the fourteen Red Axes of the Wolfmark."