"Early in the morning, my lord, the day after you went," replied the young man; "and I reached Zweibrücken towards evening." "A long journey for a hurt man," said Count Frederick. "But let that pass. I must have been in Zweibrücken when you were there; why did you not join me?" "I knew not of your being there, noble lord," replied the youth. "I lodged at the first little inn I found; and I have heard since you were at the abbey." "Good," answered the Count. "Whence did you go from Zweibrücken?" The young man paused and hesitated, but at length he answered, "To Anweiler, my lord." "In one day?" asked Count Frederick,--"a longer journey still." "I was stronger that day, Sir," answered Martin of Dillberg; "and bore it well enough." "Doubtless," said Count Frederick, drily; "but why was it you went to Anweiler at all, leaving the straight road hither?" "Because I was alone, my lord," answered the youth; "and knew not the way over the hills. They told me, too, that it was dangerous, and I thought the high road less so." "Then, when left you Anweiler?" inquired Count Frederick. "On the following morning early," was the reply. "Then, had you made as much speed as before," replied his lord, "you must have reached Ehrenstein before me, for I passed nearly two days at Zweibrücken." "My horse cast a shoe," said Martin of Dillberg, with a varying countenance; but then a light seemed suddenly to come over it, and he added, "and I lost my way amongst the hills, and could not find it for some time, so that I was obliged to return to Anweiler." "Where you passed a second night," said Count Frederick. "An excellently well told tale, but it will not serve your purpose, youth. Bring in the witnesses.--First, the good host from Anweiler." Martin of Dillberg's countenance fell; and a great, burly, grey-haired man was brought in, and placed by his side. "Now, mine host," said Count Frederick, "repeat what you told me about this good youth, the questions that he asked you, and the way that he took." "Why, my good lords and noble gentlemen," replied the innkeeper, after looking a moment at Martin of Dillberg, as if to identify him, "there was no great harm in what he said, or in what I said, either. We were talking that night, when he first arrived, over a bottle of good Zeller wine, about the state of the country round, and I said, we should do very well, and be happy enough, and be well contented, for we had a number of good lords round who were kind to us, if it were not for that devil of a Baron of Eppenfeld, who robbed and pillaged wherever he thought fit, and plundered all the merchants that travelled our roads without a safe conduct from him; and then he said,--that is to say, the youth here,--that he should like to see this Baron of Eppenfeld much. I told him he had better not, for he might get himself skinned alive; but he only laughed, and asked the way to the castle--that's Eppenfeld, I mean."