I must pace this courtyard for a time, and ponder what next to do.  Go you, Ebearhard, with the men to the door.  Allow no talking or noise.  Listen intently, and report to me if you hear anything.  You see, Ebearhard, the devil of it is that Stahleck, like his cousin with Cologne, swears allegiance to the Archbishop of Mayence, and here am I, after destroying the fief of one Archbishop, securely snared in the fief of another.  I fear their Lordships’ next meeting with me will not pass off so amicably as did the last.”

“Next meeting?” cried Ebearhard in astonishment; “have you ever met the Archbishops?”

Roland gasped, realizing that his absorption in one subject had nearly caused him to betray his momentous secret.

“Ah, I remember,” continued Ebearhard.  “It was on account of the Archbishop’s presence in Bonn that you returned from that town when first you journeyed up the Rhine.”

“Yes,” said Roland, with relief.

“It seems to me,” went on Ebearhard consolingly, “that even if we may not leave the Castle, at least the Pfalzgraf cannot penetrate into the stronghold, therefore we are safe enough.”

“Not so, Ebearhard,” replied his chief.  “The Pfalzgraf has the barge, remember, and it can carry his whole force to Caub or elsewhere, returning with ample provisions and siege instruments that will batter in the door despite all we can do.  Nevertheless, let us keep up our hearts.  Get you to the gate, Ebearhard.  I must have time to think before Greusel returns.”

Alone, with bent head, he paced back and forwards across the courtyard under the wavering light of the torches.  Very speedily he concluded that no plan could be formed until Greusel made his report regarding the intricacies of the Castle.

“My luck is against me!  My luck is against me!” he said aloud to himself, as if the sound of his own voice might suggest some way out of the difficulty.

“Luck always turns against a thief and a marauder,” said a sweet and clear voice behind him; “and how can it be otherwise, when the gallows-tree stands at the end of his journey.”

Roland stopped in his walk, and turned abruptly towards the sound.  He saw standing there, just descended from the stairway at her back, one quite evidently a lady; not more than eighteen, perhaps, but nevertheless with a flash of defiance in her somber eyes, which were bent fearlessly upon him.  The two tirewomen accompanying her shrank timorously to the background, palpably panic-stricken, and ready to faint with fright.

“Ah, Madam, how came you here?” cried Roland, ignoring her insulting words, too much surprised by her beauty of face and form to think of aught else.

“I came here, because your bully upstairs hammered at my door and bade me open, which I would not do, defying him to break it down if he had the power.  It so happened that he possessed the power, and used it.”