“Really?  For what purpose?”

“That they might in ecclesiastical form, and upon the highest ecclesiastical authority, announce her betrothal.”

“Announce in Stolzenfels the betrothal of an English Princess, the daughter of one king and sister of another!  Did she, then, marry a German?”

“Yes; she married the Emperor, Frederick II.; Frederick of Hohenstaufen.”

Slowly the girl turned her head, and looked steadfastly at the Archbishop, who was gazing earnestly up the road as if to catch a glimpse of the Castle which had been the scene of the events he related.  Her face became pale, and a questioning wonder rose in her eyes.  What did the Archbishop really mean by this latest historical recital?  True, he was a man who had given much study to ancient lore; rather fond of exhibiting his proficiency therein when he secured patient listeners.  Could there be any secret meaning in his story of the English Princess who danced?  Was there any hidden analogy between the journey of the English Isabella, and the short trip taken that day by Hildegunde of Sayn?  She was about to speak when the Archbishop made a slight signal with his right hand, and a horseman who had followed them all the way from Coblentz now spurred up alongside of his Lordship, who said sharply to the newcomer: 

“How many of Treves’ men are in Coblentz?”

“Eight hundred and fifty, my Lord.”

“Enough to capture the town?”

“Coblentz is already in their possession, my Lord.”

“They seem to be unarmed.”

“Their weapons are stored under guard in the Church of St. Castor, and can be in the hands of the soldiers within a few minutes after a signal is rung by the St. Castor’s bells.”

“Are there any troops in Coblentz from Mayence?”

“No, my Lord.”

“How many of my men have been placed behind the Castle of Stolzenfels?”

“Three thousand are concealed in the forest near the hilltop.”

“How many men has my Lord of Mayence within call?”

“Apparently only the scant half-dozen that reached Stolzenfels with him yesterday.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“Scouts have been sent all through the forest to the south, and have brought us no word of an advancing company.  Other scouts have gone up the river as far as Bingen, but everything is quiet, and it would have been impossible for his Lordship to march a considerable number of men from any quarter towards Stolzenfels without one or other of our hundred spies learning of the movement.”

“Then doubtless Mayence depends on his henchman Treves.”

“It would seem so, my Lord.”

“Thank you; that will do.”

The rider saluted, turned his horse towards the north, and galloped away, and a few moments later the little procession came within sight of Stolzenfels, standing grandly on its conical hill beside the Rhine, against a background of green formed by the mountainous forests to the rear.