The Outlaws of Falkensteig

  He was a remarkable man, and I was drawn by his appearance to scan him closely as he strode past me with a firm step, determination, strength, and alertness in every line of his well-set figure. Clearly he was a soldier. This I gathered as much from his martial bearing as from his apparel, and whilst I was speculating upon the service to which he might belong, his eye caught mine, and, suddenly becoming aware that my gaze was more assiduous than polite, I turned aside. But from the window I watched him vault upon his horse and ride away, and the sight confirmed me in the opinion I had already formed.

  As he disappeared round the corner, the echoes of the peaceful street were awakened by the clatter of hoofs, the cracking of whips, and the rumble of coach-wheels. A moment later a well-appointed travelling carriage, drawn by four steaming horses, drew up with a most imposing din at the door of the “Schwarzen Stier."

  Chancing at that moment to bestow a glance upon the landlord as he sped with great bustle across the threshold to receive his guest, my attention was suddenly arrested by the attitude of a peasant who had for some little time occupied the room with me, but to whom I had hitherto given scant thought. He had risen from his stool, and stood now in the doorway of the inn, staring open-mouthed down the street in the direction which the florid gentleman had taken, without appearing to vouchsafe the least attention to the newcomer. Just then he turned his eyes in my direction, and from the expression of his face methought he was on the point of addressing me, when a shadow fell athwart the lintel, and a gentle, almost effeminate voice assailed my ears.

  "Ah. M. le Capitaine, good day!"

  A dark, slender man was bowing before me with a monstrous flourish of his plumed hat, and overwhelming me with a thousand compliments anent the honour which this meeting with me conferred upon him.

  He was dressed in the very noontide of fashion, and was armed with a slender, richly hilted rapier and a gold-headed cane; moreover he reeked most damnably of musk. For a moment I gazed askance at his graceful capers, and wondered what French dancing master it had been my lot to have become acquainted with—his speech, at least, had betrayed his nationality—when his next words enlightened me.

  "I am M. d'Aubeville,” he said straightening himself, and showing me his pale, highbred countenance. “Possibly you may have heard of me, and of the business which brings me to Steinau."

  I bowed and answered in the affirmative, lost in astonishment at what I had heard. Was this amazing fop, this carpet knight, the man who had undertaken the capture of as bold an outlaw as ever sat a horse? Heiliger Jungfrau! But for the impoliteness of it, I could have laughed in his face.

  "Will you be seated, sir?” he said with the foreign accent that marked his speech, “and permit me to call for wine."

  He summoned the host, who answered with alacrity, and when wine had been brought and the fellow had left us, he asked me what news I had of Felsheim.

  In truth I knew little, but on what little I knew I kept tight lips, for I had good reason to resent his interference—albeit, since I had set eyes upon him I had ceased to fear it. Nevertheless, I was courteous in my reply.

  "I am distressed to inform you, M. d'Aubeville, that I have no news whatever."

  He made a gesture of incredulity or impatience, which stung me into adding: “It is a more difficult affair than at first may seem, Monsieur, and I fear that you may soon find it so."

  He smiled a smile of supreme indulgence.

  "La, la," he said, “it might be difficult were I to set about accomplishing this feat by force, as you are doing. But there is such a thing as strategy in warfare. Now tell me, Monsieur, what do you hope to do with these two score men the King has given you?"

  "Cut off Felsheim's retreat to the hills."

  "So I had feared. And do you imagine that Felsheim knows naught of this?"

  "What of that?"

  "What of that?” he echoed. “Pardieu! Tell me, M. le Capitaine, does it not occur to you that possessed of such knowledge, Felsheim will take his precautions? You are searching for an army of fifty bandits. Now what is there to hinder fifty peaceful-looking peasants from passing one by one through your lines, eh? Tell me, how do you know that this has not already taken place?"

  I sat back in my chair aghast at the contingency this fop suggested, and slowly I began to realise that possibly he was not the fool I had first deemed him.

  "But be at rest, M. le Capitaine,” he added, laying a dainty, white hand, all ablaze with jewels, upon my sleeve, “this has not yet taken place."

  "You are well informed,” I cried, unable to repress a sneer.

  "As you perceive,” he answered coolly. “You have just told me, Monsieur, that you know nothing of Felsheim's whereabouts, adding that I was likely to find many difficulties in my task. Eh bien, Monsieur, let me inform you that I know where to find the outlaw at nine o'clock to-night—alone. Nay, do not become excited; pray sit down and listen. I want your assistance."

  I sank back into my chair, and in dismay I waited for him to continue, whilst, with an inward groan, I saw the Captaincy and the five thousand crowns fade from my grasp, and, with them, my little Agathe von Grünhain.

  "I have laid a trap for the thief,” pursued the Frenchman “I ascertained that there is a weak spot in this Felsheim's armour—a woman, cela va sans dire. This mad raid of his is being made not in quest of plunder, as you suppose, but in search of this wench who has been removed by her father—in virtue of this misplaced affection—from the village of Stanstadt on the spur of the Falkensteig. I wrote to Felsheim professing to posses information of his beloved's whereabouts and offering to sell it to him. I desired him to meet me at a certain place to-night, and told him that unless he came alone he would not find me at the rendez-vous. Here is his reply."

  I took the proffered paper and read:

  From my heart I thank you, whoever you may be, for the ray of hope you have given me. I shall be at the hunting-lodge at nine o'clock to-morrow night, and I swear that I shall be alone. You are cautious, but I am none the less so, and if you are accompanied, rest assured that you will see nothing of me, whilst, if you betray me, believe me, you will repent.

  A. v. F.

  It was a grim enough letter, and the spruce dandy before me seemed scarce the man to risk the bandit's vengeance.

  "Are you minded to go?” I asked.

  "Crèdieu! most certainly I am. All I desire I of you, M. le Capitaine, is that you hold yourself in readiness to-night with half a dozen men, and that precisely on the stroke of ten you ride out quietly from the town, and proceed to the hunting-lodge on the border of the Dunkler Wald. You know the place?"

  I nodded.

  "It will take you a quarter of an hour to reach it. See that you make no noise approaching; you had best dismount when within a hundred yards or so, and draw near on foot. Then wait until I summon you. If this should not take place before eleven return to Steinau, and set about catching Felsheim as best you can, for it will signify that I have failed and that Felsheim's men are in the place. You understand?"

  Again I nodded, and was on the point of putting a question, when M. d'Aubeville replied to it before I had opened my lips by saying that if all went well the King's reward of five thousand crowns would still belong to me. This did much to set me in a better humour, and I little doubted but that, should our venture be successful, the Captaincy might yet be mine.

  Happening to raise my eyes, I suddenly met the intent gaze of the peasant whom I had first noticed when the florid gentleman left the inn. As before, it appeared to me that the fellow was eager to address me. Nor was I wrong. For reading, maybe, a look of inquiry in my face, the man drew near and craved my leave to speak. Having received it he proceeded to inquire if I were Lieutenant Stoffel, whereunto I naturally acquiesced.

  "You are seeking to capture the bandit Felsheim, are you not?

  "I am indeed,” I answered.

  M. d'Aubeville eyed the fellow with a curious mixture of curiosity and disdain—for to a French
nobleman a peasant is not a man, but a lower animal.

  "Are you acquainted with him?” was my interlocutor's next question.

  "How is that possible?” I asked.

  "You have not even had a description of him?"

  "I have not. My departure from Schwerlingen was too sudden.” Then remembering to whom I spoke, and that like a fool I stood answering the questions of an unknown, I became somewhat impatient. “Why all these questions, knave?"

  A curious smile broke over his sunburnt face.

  "Did you note a red-haired gentleman who quitted the hostelry a few moments before the arrival of this most noble lord?” D'Aubeville looked up quickly.

  "Red-haired?” quoth he. “Was he a tall, soldierly man with a pointed beard?"

  I looked from one to the other, and what I saw in their faces gave rise to a queer fancy in my mind.

  "Who was he?” I inquired addressing the peasant. He answered me as I already expected.

  "Andreas von Felsheim, your quarry".

  "How know you this?"

  "How? I am from Moritzau, where that dog stripped me a week ago of my poor belongings. I have good reason to know him."

  Beside myself, I seized him by the collar of his mean coat, and shook him viciously.

  "Fool!” I thundered, “you saw and knew him, yet you sat there without speaking the word that would have laid him by the heels. Did he steal your wits when he took your other possessions? Bah!"

  I loosened my grasp, and turned to be bearded by M. d'Aubeville. He stood with arms akimbo, his eyes flashing dangerously, and a sneer upon his woman's face.

  "Do you in truth say that you have not even a description of the man you are seeking? If I were—"

  "It concerns me not what you would do,” I burst out angrily, “nor does it concern you what I do."

  "Pardon,” he murmured, bowing; “I forgot my manners in the excitement of what I heard. You say rightly it is no concern of mine how you conduct the matter, and I pray you forgive the presumption of my question."

  Despite this courteous apology our relations were thereafter somewhat strained, and I felt relieved when he betook himself to his room, saying that he must change his clothes and assume an outward appearance more in harmony with his rôle of a seller of information.

  Albeit he had given me proof that he was a man of astuteness and gifted with a capacity for plotting, yet, when I compared his slender frame with the burly figure of the outlaw, I had my misgivings concerning the issue of his venture.

  Unless, indeed, the dainty lace ruffles at his wrists concealed a strength at least parallel with the keen wit that was masked by his fatuous countenance, it seemed to me that the hunter was likely to prove the hunted before the chase was done. I alluded to these doubts of mine when presently I discussed the matter with my sergeant, and mentioned that I marvelled not a little by what means this dainty Frenchman hoped, single-handed, to overcome the powerful outlaw. But Gottlieb laughed for answer.

  "You have not heard what it was that led to this mad wager?” he said. “I was told that, on the night ‘twas made, the antecedents of this Felsheim were being discussed, and someone said that, amongst other things, the outlaw was a prince of topers. At that up jumped M. d'Aubeville to boast that if they would but bring their prince of topers to Schwerlingen, he would undertake to drink him under the table while retaining his own senses. There followed upon this the heated argument, which goaded the Frenchman into his wager that, single-handed, he would take Felsheim captive. No conditions were imposed, but it seems to have been understood that M. d'Aubeville would choose the bottle for his weapon, albeit I know not what stratagem he will employ to bring Andreas von Felsheim to sit at table with him."

  I made no doubt myself but that his crafty head would devise some way of doing so. Still, it seemed a somewhat lame plan of battle, and perilous withal.

  "Passing M. d'Aubeville's coach in the courtyard,” said Gottlieb presently, “I chanced to see through the window a basket, from which protruded the necks of some half score flagons. From this methinks that he intends to do as I have said. He has the reputation of being the hardest drinker at the court of France. Still,” mused the sergeant, “I'll warrant Felsheim is no babe."

  I did not have an opportunity of questioning M. d'Aubeville upon the subject, for I did not see him again until shortly before nine o'clock that night. The change in his appearance was prodigious. He wore neither ruffles nor jewels; a broken feather hung limp from his faded hat, and he carried a stout sword in a frayed scabbard.

  His clothes were threadbare, and his spurs rusted, whilst he had so bedraggled his hair as to lend a haggard expression to his pale face. He looked, indeed, like a gentleman who had fallen upon evil times.

  He smiled at the amazement depicted on my face, and with a parting injunction that I must not fail him, he mounted a horse, as worn and sorry-looking as himself, and rode away.

  Faithful to my promise I quitted Steinau as ten was striking, and with my small escort of six men I proceeded to the hunting-lodge on the outskirts of the Dunkler Wald. Within a hundred yards I halted, and leaving one of the men with the horses, I went forward with the other five, cautiously and noiselessly, until we stood in touch of the walls of the lodge. For perhaps a quarter of an hour we waited thus in watchful silence, but no sound broke upon the stillness of the night, nor did any ray of light relieve the gloom. The hunting-lodge had every appearance of being untenanted.

  My impatience was beginning to master me, and to awaken wild imaginings, when of a sudden a window was opened softly overhead, and d'Aubeville's foreign accents hailed me.

  "Are you there, Monsieur le Capitaine?"

  "I am here."

  "I have him safe, my friend; wait, I will unbar the door."

  A few moments later d'Aubeville ushered us into the lodge, and led the way up a narrow flight of stairs to the room above, where he had entertained his guest.

  By the light of a couple of candles I beheld a curious picture. In the centre of the large, bare room, stood a square table of coarse make. At this table sat a man; his head had fallen forward and rested sideways on his left arm, revealing a face which, despite its ghastly pallor, I quickly recognised as that of the florid gentleman whom I had seen that day in the inn at Steinau.

  On the table, and on the floor around it, a number of playing cards were scattered. Half-a-dozen empty bottles lay here and there about the room, and on the table two glasses. Felsheim's right gripped the neck of an overturned flagon from which a streak of red wine had run across the board, and was still dripping into a puddle on the floor.

  D'Aubeville eyed his work with a complacent smile.

  "There, my masters,” he cried, “lies your bold Felsheim, drunk as Bacchus. A prince of topers they called him at Schwerlingen—a prince of fools I dub him."

  "He is more than drunk,” I exclaimed, as I pushed aside his tumbled hair, the better to scan his livid countenance.

  "In very truth he is; I drugged his wine. But come, it is unsafe to linger. Away with him to Steinau as fast as you can ride, and if you would avoid trouble let none know whom you carry. Get my carriage at the “Schwarzen Stier” and take him in that. By noon to-morrow you should be in Schwerlingen, whither I will follow as soon as I have obtained another coach."

  * * * *

  It was high noon next day when, with my two score men at my heels, and the coach containing our precious captive—who had not yet awakened from his stupor—I reached Schwerlingen. The news of our successful return had preceded us, and as we clattered merrily into the Capital, the people turned out to see us go by, and to give our progress the semblance of a triumphal home-coming from the wars.

  Cheers rent the air as we rode past, whilst chancing to look up, as we made our way through the Frühling Gasse, my pulses quickened at the sight of my lovely Agathe who waved her kerchief to me from a window above.

  At the Schloss we were met in the courtyard by the King himself with Ronshausen and a crow
d of others in their wake. His Majesty was in a right merry mood, and clapped me on the shoulder as I alighted.

  "'Tis that mad Frenchman's doing, I am told; still I will keep my promise, Captain Stoffel."

  I bowed, overwhelmed by his generosity, and out of the tail of my eye I caught a glimpse of Ronshausen's glum countenance—doubtless he was wondering what misguided Hebrew would lend him the ten thousand crowns.

  "I doubt if he be yet sober,"’ I said as I opened the door of the coach. Nor was I wrong for, within, our prisoner lay still asleep. A vigorous shaking roused him somewhat. He opened his eyes, and vouchsafed me a vacant stare, whereupon seizing him by the collar of his doublet I dragged him from the carriage.

  But the moment he was outside, gazing stupidly about him, a wondrous hubbub took place behind me. I turned to look for an explanation of this. Ronshausen's face wore the look of a man who is at pains to suppress his mirth, whilst the King's was dark with anger. I gazed from one to the other of them, seized with a vague fear that something was amiss. Then the King spoke.

  "Is this your prisoner?” quoth he in a thick voice. “Is this Felsheim? Speak, fool! I am waiting"

  "It is M. d'Aubeville's prisoner.” I stammered, whereupon some laughed outright, whilst His Majesty stamped his foot and clenched his hands.

  "M. d'Aubeville's prisoner?” he echoed jeeringly—"why, booby, this is M. d'Aubeville!"

  My senses swam. Was I dreaming? This florid, red-haired man, d'Aubeville!

  "Your Majesty, there must be some mistake—” I began scarcely knowing what I said.

  "There is indeed a mistake, a monstrous mistake. Follow me, and bring that drunken idiot with you. Come, Ronshausen, let us sift the matter."