“We must take the rough with the smooth now.  We must kill them, every one, like stanch men of the Mark!” cried Von Reuss.  “There is no safety for any of us else.”  And in a moment we were at it, the Prince furiously assaulting the second of the bravoes who came down the hill.  More coolly than I had given him credit for, Von Reuss stuffed a silken kerchief into the hole in his shoulder, and repossessed himself of his weapon in his other hand.

It was the briskest kind of a bicker that ensued for a little while there on the bosky, broomy hill-side in the evening light.  Ah, Dessauer was down at last and Cannstadt at his throat!  I went about with a whirl, leaving my own man for the moment, and rushed upon the Count’s false second.  He turned to receive me, but not quite quick enough, for I got him two inches below where I had pinked his principal’s ring-mail, and that made all the difference.  Cannstadt did not immediately drop his sword.  But his limbs weakened, and he fell forward without a sound.

Then as I looked about, there was the Prince manfully crossing swords with two, and the cowardly Von Reuss creeping up with his sword shortened in his left hand with intent to slay him from behind.

Whereat I gave a furious cry of anguish, that I should have been the means of bringing my noble master into such peril.  The Prince Karl had at the same moment some intuition of the treacherous foe behind him, for he leaped aside with more agility than I had ever seen him display before on foot, and Von Reuss was too sorely wounded to follow.

Presently I was at my first bravo again, and the Prince being left with but one, Von Reuss took the opportunity to slip away over the hill.

The rest of the conflict was not long a-settling.  There were loud voices from the stream beneath.  The combat had been observed, and half a score of the Prince’s guard were already swimming, wading, and leaping into small boats in their haste to be first to our assistance.

But we did not need their aid.  I passed my blade through and through my assailant, almost at the same moment that the Prince spiked his man so directly in the throat, so that the red point stood out in the hollow of his neck behind.

Both went down simultaneously, and there was Von Reuss on horseback, just disappearing over the ridge.  Prince Karl wiped his brow.

“What devil’s traitors!” he cried.  “Poor Dessauer, I wonder what he has gotten?  Let us go to him.”

We went across the plateau together, and knelt by the side of the old man.  At first I could not find the wound, though there was blood enough upon his face and fencing-habit.  But presently I discovered that his scalp had been cut from above the eye backwards to the crown of his head—­a shallow, ploughing scratch, no more, though it had effectually stunned the old man.

Even as I held him in my arms, he came to and looked about him.