But at last she came, bringing the Red Axe in her hand.

“Go not weaponless!” she said, and I reached up and took from her hand that which had already served me so well.  The Red Axe had done its work now, and she was grateful.

Then full lightly she descended to my side, and we went down the streets of Thorn, which were filled with hurrying burgesses, all with weapons in their hands, rushing to discover the cause of the clamor.  I took Helene hastily to the palace of the Bishop.  And when I arrived there I saw Peter himself with his head out of a window.

“I come to claim your protection for my wife!” I cried.

He came down immediately with an attendant.

“Fear not,” I said, “you will never be called in question for this kindly deed.  The Duke Otho is slain, and the army of Prince Karl of Plassenburg is already at the gates.”

“The Duke is dead!” he gasped.  “Who slew him?”

“Who but the Hereditary Justicer of the Wolfmark should slay a traitor?” said I, smiling at his astonishment.  And I held up the Red Axe, on which there was now no crystal-clear rim of shining steel.  All was crimson from haft to edge—­red as blood.

“Here, for an hour, Helene, little wife, I must leave you!” I said.  But now she sobbed and clung to me as she had not done before, even in the dungeon.

“Stay with me,” she said.  “I need you, Hugo!”

I took her by the hand.

“Little one,” I whispered, as tenderly as I could, “I would not be worthily your husband if I went not to meet those who are fighting to save us all this night.  They have come from far to deliver us.  I were false and recreant if I went not to their assistance.”

“I know—­I know,” she said.  “Go!”

And with that she gave a hand to the good Bishop and went quietly within, with no more than a smile over her shoulder, like a watery April sun-glint.

Then I betook me with all speed to the Weiss Thor, where I judged the chief struggle would take place.  And as I came I heard the rattle of shot and the jarring thunder of the forehammers.  The soldiers without shouted, and the men within more feebly replied.

I came in sight of the gate.  There on my left hand was the house of Master Gerard von Sturm.

A fire was still flickering upon the tower of it.

Without I could hear the cheering and clamoring of the besiegers.  But the gates remained obstinately shut.  They were stronger than the Prince had anticipated.

As I stood, uncertain what to do, I saw a slim white figure, the figure of a woman, flash across the open space towards the gate.  The men who defended the gate towers were all upon the top of the wall.  Before any could stop her she had thrown herself upon the wheel by which the bars were unfastened, and with a few turns had drawn them as deftly as evil Duke Casimir had been wont to remove the teeth of the rich Hebrew folk when he wanted supplies.