“Why,” cried the Prince, “the Black Riders of the Wolfmark are out again, and have left their ancient trail behind them in slain men and frantic women—­and on our borders, too, among our kindly husbandmen, our honest, sunburnt peasants.  Bitterly shall Casimir Ironteeth rue the day that he meddled with Karl Miller’s Son.”

“Your Highness,” I said, “this is indeed madness.  We have but to collect our forces, choose a time, and, lo! we are within the town of Thorn!  Once there, we would be welcomed by man, woman, and child.  We could then besiege the Wolfsberg, and in three days make an end.”

“Aye, that is it,” said the Prince, grimly; “you have hit it, Hugo.  We will make an end.”

“Also, my Prince,” I went on, boldly, “so ye give me leave and approve of my design, I will go alone to the town of Thorn, and bring you back word of their power and dispositions.  Save the Count von Reuss, there is none who could now recognize me within the city walls.”

“What think ye, Dessauer?” said the Prince, looking over at the High Chancellor.

“I think well,” said he, a little doubtfully; “but would it not be better that two should go than that one should adventure alone into the wolf’s den ?”

“Surely it were better to keep the matter between our three selves,” the Prince made answer; “not even the Princess must know of our attempt.  Keep a candle flame within the hollow of your palm, and though the wind blow the sparks will not fly far.”

“I will go with the lad, Prince Karl,” said the Chancellor, firmly.  “In my youth I had some practice as a leech.  I am acquainted with the art of healing.  I could travel either as a doctor of healing, as a travelling philosopher seeking disputation with the scholars of each country, or, perhaps best of all, in mine own quality of a doctor of law.  And in any case this young man might with all safety be my pupil or servant, whichever best liketh him.”

“Servant, then,” said I, “for the art of disputation I have hitherto chiefly undertaken with my fists and side-irons.  And as to surgery, I am more practised in the giving of wounds than in the healing of them.”

The Prince leaned his head upon his hand.  He thought carefully over our proposal, taking up point after point, resolving difficulty after difficulty in his mind, as was his wont.

“How long would you be away?” he asked, looking up at us.

“Ten days, Prince,” said I.  “Give us but ten days and we will return.”

“I will give you eight, and if ye are not home again on the eve of the last, as sure as I am Karl Miller’s Son, the army of Plassenburg will be thundering on the walls of Thorn seeking for a wandering Chancellor and a lost Hugo Gottfried!”

And so it was arranged.  We of the Prince’s staff were indeed in great need of such a mission, for we had heard nothing from Thorn or the Wolfmark during many months; no tidings, at all events, that could be relied upon.  For the cutting up of our frontiers by new raids, and the severance of all relations between us and the dwellers in the Wolfmark, through fear of reprisals, caused us to hear little news but such as was manifest lies.