“Ay, that it is,” replied the peasant with a laugh. “’Tis the cage where my lord of Sooneck keeps the birds whose feathers he has plucked.”

Edwin, still with a show of indifference, questioned him further, and elicited the fact that the peasant had witnessed the capture and incarceration in the tower of a knight and his servant on the very day when Sir Oswald and his groom had disappeared.  Nothing more could Edwin glean, save that a few days hence Baron Wilm was to give a grand banquet, when many nobles and knights were to be present.

The young man, his suspicions thus fully confirmed, felt that his next move must be to gain entrance to the castle, and he decided to take advantage of the excitement and bustle attendant on the banquet to achieve this end.  Accordingly, on the day fixed for the feast he again donned his minstrel’s garb, and repaired to the Schloss Sooneck.  Here, as he had anticipated, all was excitement and gaiety.  Wine flowed freely, tongues were loosened, and the minstrel was welcomed uproariously and bidden to sing his best songs in return for a beaker of Rhenish.  Soon the greater part of the company were tipsy, and Edwin moved among them, noting their conversation, coming at length to the seat of the host.

“It is said,” remarked a knight, “that you have captured Sir Oswald of Fuerstenberg.”

Wilm, to whom the remark was addressed, smiled knowingly and did not deny the charge.

“I have even heard,” pursued his companion, “that you have had his eyes put out.”

The Baron laughed outright, as at an excellent jest.

“Then you have heard truly,” he said.

At this point another knight broke into the conversation.  “It is a pity,” said he.  “There are but few archers to match Oswald of Fuerstenberg.”

“I wager he can still hit a mark if it be set up,” said he who had first spoken.

“Done!” cried Sooneck, and when the terms of the wager had been fixed the Baron directed that Oswald should be brought from the tower.

Edwin had overheard the conversation with a breaking heart, and grief and shame almost overwhelmed him when he saw his father, pitifully quiet and dignified, led into the banquet-hall to provide sport for a company of drunken revellers.  Oswald was informed of the wager, and bow and arrows were placed in his hands.

“Baron von Sooneck,” he cried, “where is the mark?”

“This cup I place upon the table,” came the reply.

The arrow was fitted to the bow, released, and lo! it was not the cup which was hit, but the Lord of Sooneck, who fell forward heavily, struck to the heart and mortally wounded.

In a moment a loud outcry was raised, but ere action could be taken the minstrel had sprung in front of Oswald, and boldly faced the assembly.

“This knight,” he cried, “shamefully maltreated by yonder villain, is my father.  Whoso thinks he has acted wrongly in forfeiting the life of his torturer shall answer to me.  With my sword I shall teach him better judgment.”