CHAPTER XV HOW THE SHINING KNIGHT’S TREASURE WAS BROUGHT TO LIGHT It was high noon when the last of the knights of the Swartzburg laid down his arms at the feet of the emperor and swore fealty to him. Of the castle’s company Herr Banf was missing; for he had ridden forth, in the confusion that followed the entrance of Rudolf’s men, to make his way through the woods and thence out from that land, minded rather to live an outlaw than to bend knee to the foe of his well loved friend. A wise ruler as well as a brave soldier was Rudolf of Hapsburg, and well knew he how to win as well as to conquer. So, when all the knights had taken oath, to each was returned his arms, and him the emperor greeted as friend. Within the castle hall the dead master lay at rest, and beside him watched the baroness, a pale, broken-spirited lady, whose life had been one long season of fear of her liege lord, and who now felt as little sorrow as hope. Her the emperor had already visited, to pay her respect and to assure her of protection, and now, with the two or three women of that stern and wild household of men-folk, she waited what might come. Meanwhile, through castle and stables and offices the emperor’s appointed searchers went, taking note of all things; but Rudolf of Hapsburg sat in the courtyard, in sight of his men, who were by now making shift to prepare themselves a meal; for the greater number had not tasted food that day. To Wulf the whole changed scene seemed like a dream, so familiar the place, yet so strange—as one in sleep finds some place that he knows well puzzle him by some unwonted aspect. He stood watching the soldiers feeding here and there about the bailey, when there came two squires from the keep, leading between them a bent and piteous figure. It was a man who cowered and blinked and sought to cover his dazzled eyes from the unwonted light of day. Him the soldiers brought before the emperor, and on the moment Wulf knew that face to be the one which he had seen at the barred window of the keep on the day when he had climbed the tower. “What is this?” demanded Rudolf, as he looked the woeful figure up and down. Scarce bore it likeness to a man, so unkempt and terrible was its aspect, so drawn and wan the face, wherein no light of reason showed. “We know not, your Majesty,” one of the squires replied; “but we found him in a cell high up in the keep, chained by the ankle to a stone bench, and I broke the fetter with a sledge.”