“Give me,” answered the mountebank, “a goodly ship, well filled with merchandise, and I promise to bring the lady back to you. You may send some of your soldiers with me if you like, that they may cut off my head if I fail to keep my promise.”
Before long the ship was laden and ready for sea. It was a fast sailer, and there were many able seamen on board, to say nothing of the soldiers the emperor had sent to see that the player was true to his bargain.
All went well during the voyage, and the ship at last reached the port of Bari. The mountebank landed and set to work to find out all that he could about the royal family. He found that King Rother had gone to Riffland with his troops, leaving Leupold of Milan regent in his place. He congratulated himself on his good luck when he heard this, for he thought his plan would be easier of accomplishment during the king’s absence. On his return to his ship he made ready to show off his conjuring tricks on board the vessel. Crowds came, tempted by the unusual sight. He then brought out his silks and precious stones and offered them for sale. Amongst his wares was a pebble. The people asked what good a wretched common pebble could do him.
“This stone,” he said, taking it gently in his hand, “is worth a ton of gold, for if a queen should touch a lame or impotent man with it, he would at once become strong and well again.”
“Ah,” sighed one of the lords, “if that were only true! I would give half my county were it really so, for I have three children, all of whom have been lame from their birth.”
“They would soon jump about and play like other children,” replied the mountebank, “if your good queen would only come on board my ship and try the virtue of the pebble.”
The count hastened to Queen Oda and told her his story, and she, with her usual kindliness, said how willing she was to cure the children if she could. She at once set out for the vessel, but no sooner were she and her ladies on board than the landing plank was slipped, the hawsers were unloosed, and a fresh wind catching the sails, the ship was soon out of sight of land.
The citizens of Bari clustered about the harbour not knowing what to do, and Leupold vainly sought a ship that could be got ready immediately to pursue and overtake the robber’s vessel. At the same moment King Rother’s horns were heard proclaiming his return. As soon as the king was told what had happened, his decision was formed.
“We must take an army to Constantinople,” he cried. “My dear wife has been stolen from me by force and cunning, and by force and cunning I will win her back.”
Old Duke Berchther shook his grey head, but said that he and his men would follow the king. Leupold, Wolfrat and the other princes of the realm promised to do the same. Messengers were sent to bear the tidings to all parts of the kingdom, and soon a great army was assembled. Rother picked out the bravest warriors to accompany him, amongst whom were Asprian and his giants; the rest he sent home. Meantime the ships that were to bear the little army had been got ready, and after a favourable voyage reached the neighbourhood of Constantinople. Rother gave orders that the vessels should be run ashore in a small bay, surrounded on all sides by a thick wood which stretched in the direction of the city, and which would serve to conceal both ships and men.
“We are safe here,” said Rother to his nobles. “The populace have an unspeakable terror of this wood, which they believe to be peopled by monsters of all sorts. Let the men encamp here, and I will go to the city in a pilgrim’s dress and see what is going on.”
There was a general outcry at the idea of the king adventuring himself alone in the enemy’s stronghold, and many of the princes offered to go with him. He, therefore, consented to take the Duke of Meran and his son Leupold. Before starting Wolfrat gave him a tiny horn, telling him the sound it made was so shrill that it could be heard for miles around.
“As soon as we hear it,” said Asprian, “we shall come to your help with clubs and swords.”
“Yes,” laughed Widolt, “and then there will be many a broken head, I can promise you.”
The three pilgrims set out on their way. After going some distance they saw a horseman coming towards them in shining armour. They asked him if there were good news in Constantinople.
“Not at all,” he answered. “Look, King Rother gave me this coat of mail, and my good sword, and a thousand gold pieces to boot, for I had lost both land and wealth at the hands of miscreants; and now I find that the Greeks have stolen away his fair wife, and are about to marry her to that cruel demon Basilistum, son of Imelot, King of Desert-Babylon. For, when Imelot escaped from here, he collected a great army, and marching into the Emperor Constantine’s land, took him prisoner, and now demands the half of his empire and the Lady Oda for that unlicked cub, his son, who, according to the present arrangement, is to remain here after his marriage, that Constantine may not be deprived of his daughter’s society. All the Christians in the place tremble to think of the persecutions that will follow. Oh that King Rother would only come! I would join him with all my men as sure as my name is Arnold.”
“Truly,” said Rother as they parted, “a kind action often brings unlooked-for reward.”
The city was full of life and feasting. Imelot, Constantine, and their followers were hobnobbing together in the banqueting room in the greatest peace and concord, for Constantine was overjoyed at having settled the vexed question of his daughter’s marriage without losing her altogether. The hunchbacked bridegroom sat between his father and his would-be father-in-law and close to sad Oda and her equally sorrowful mother. The doors were wide open, that the populace might come in and watch the proceedings. So the three pilgrims were able to enter unnoticed, with their hats pulled down low over their brows. They heard Constantine, Imelot, and Basilistum boast of how they would scornfully entreat and hang King Rother and all his giants if they ventured to come within their reach. During the laughter and confusion caused by these speeches, Rother managed to slip a ring bearing his name into his wife’s hand, and she, with a look of intense relief, showed it to her mother.
“Rother is here,” cried the hunchbacked bridegroom suddenly. “He has just given my wife a ring with his name engraved on it. Seek him out and seize him.”
Swords were drawn, tables overturned, and noisy shouts heard on every side. Rother and his companions came forward, and the former said clearly and distinctly—
“Yes, I am here. I have come to claim my wife, and if the king of Desert-Babylon or his hunchbacked son deny my right, I am ready to prove it on their bodies with my good sword.”
Imelot laughed till the hall re-echoed. “Fight with you,” he cried, “a poor little kinglet like you! No, no, you must be hung.”
“He must be hung!” repeated the courtiers.
“To the gallows with him, and his comrades too,” continued the Babylonish king, “seize them and bind them till the blood starts from their fingers.”
The heroes had only their pilgrim’s staves, and these were poor weapons wherewith to defend themselves against the swords and lances that were pointed at them. They were taken and bound. No hand was raised to help them, although many a hardy fellow in the crowd had cause to remember Dietrich’s kindness.
“A king,” said Rother proudly, “who has often looked death in the face on the battle-field, knows how to die when his time comes. Let the executioner do his work in the haunted wood, where Constantine has already had so many innocent men put to a shameful death.”
“A good idea,” quoth the emperor grimly. “There are gallows there that will just do to hang the stealer of women and his comrades on.”
“That is right,” laughed Imelot, “and then the monsters who inhabit the wood will come at night and play many a merry prank with their bones. If their friends the giants should come over the sea in search of Rother and his crew, we will hang them too, that they may find themselves in good company. The whole army shall see how great Imelot revenges himself upon his