“Madam, the Court of my Lords the Archbishops awaits your presence.”

* * * * *

The kleine Rittersaal occupied a fine position on the river-side front of Stolzenfels, its windows giving a view of the Rhine, with the strong Castle of Lahneck over-hanging the mouth of the Lahn, and the more ornamental Schloss Martinsburg at the upper end of Oberlahnstein.  The latter edifice, built by a former Elector of Mayence, was rarely occupied by the present Archbishop, but, as he sat in the central chair of the Court, he had the advantage of being able to look across the river at his own house should it please him to do so.

The three Archbishops were standing behind the long table when the Countess entered, thus acknowledging that she who came into their presence, young and beautiful, was a very great lady by right of descent and rank.  She acknowledged their courtesy by a graceful inclination of the head, and the three Princes of the Church responded each with a bow, that of Mayence scarcely perceptible, that of Treves deferential and courtly, that of Cologne with a friendly smile of encouragement.

In the center of the hall opposite the long table had been placed an immense chair, taken from the grand Rittersaal, ornamented with gilded carving, and covered in richly-colored Genoa velvet.  It looked like a throne, which indeed it was, used only on occasions when Royalty visited the Castle.  To this sumptuous seat the scarcely less gorgeous functionary conducted the girl, and when she had taken her place, the three Archbishops seated themselves.  The glorified menial then bent himself until his forehead nearly touched the floor, and silently departed.  Father Ambrose, his coarse, ill-cut clothes of somber color in striking contrast to the richness of costume worn by the others, stood humbly beside the chair that supported his kinswoman.

The Countess gave a quick glance at the Archbishop of Mayence, then lowered her eyes.  Cologne she had known all her life; Treves she had met that day, and rather liked, although feeling she could not esteem him as she did her guardian, but a thrill of fear followed her swift look at the man in the center.

“A face of great strength,” she said to herself, “but his thin, straight lips, tightly compressed, seemed cruel, as well as determined.”  With a flash of comprehension she understood now her guardian’s warning not to thwart him.  It was easy to credit the acknowledged fact that this man dominated the other two.  Nevertheless, when he spoke his voice was surprisingly mild.