Although the Baron was a younger man than his antagonist, it was soon
proven that his sword play was not equal to that of the Count, and the
broadsword fight on the battlements in the light of the flaming
stronghold, was of short duration, watched breathlessly as it was by
men of both parties above and below. Twice the Baron's guard was
broken, and the third time, such was the terrific impact of iron on
iron, that the Baron's weapon was struck from his benumbed hands and
fell glittering through the air to the ground outside the walls. The
Count paused in his onslaught, refraining from striking a disarmed man,
but again demanding his submission. The Baron cast one glance at his
burning house, saw that it was doomed, then, with a movement as
reckless as it was unexpected, took the terrific leap from the wall top
to the ground, alighting on his feet near his fallen sword which he
speedily recovered. For an instant the Count hovered on the brink to
follow him, but the swift thought of his wife and child restrained him,
and he feared a broken limb in the fall, leaving him thus at the mercy
of his enemy. The moment for decision was short enough, but the years
of regret for this hesitation were many and long. There were a hundred
men before the walls to intercept the Baron, and it seemed useless to
jeopardise life or limb in taking the leap, so the Count contented
himself by giving the loud command: "Seize that man and bind him."

It was an order easy to give and easy to obey had there been a dozen
men below as brave as their captain, or even one as brave, as stalwart
and as skilful; but the Baron struck sturdily around him and mowed his
way through the throng as effectually as a reaper with a sickle clears
a path for himself in the standing corn. Before Herbert realised what
was happening, the Baron was safe in the obscurity of the forest.

The Count of Schonburg was not a man to do things by halves, even