love of truth upon some of my councillors, what a valuable group of advisers might I have gathered round me. But we have had enough of comedy, and now tragedy sets in. Those who are traitors to their ruler must not be surprised if a double traitor is one of their number. Why am I here? Why do two hundred mounted and armed men surround this doomed chalet? Miserable wretches, what have you to say that judgment be not instantly passed upon you?"
"I have this to say," roared Baron Brunfels, drawing his sword, "that whatever may befall this assemblage, you, at least, shall not live to boast of it."
The king stood unmoved as Baron Brunfels was about to rush upon him; but Count Staumn and others threw themselves between the baron and his victim, seeing in the king's words some intimation of mercy to be held out to them could but actual assault upon his person be prevented.
"My Lord of Brunfels," said the king, calmly, "sheath your sword. Your ancestors have often drawn it, but always for, and never against, the occupant of the throne. Now, gentlemen, hear my decision, and abide faithfully by it. Seat yourselves at the table, ten on each side, the dice-box between you. You shall not be disappointed, but shall play out the game of life and death. Each dices with his opposite. He who throws the highest number escapes. He who throws the lowest, places his weapons on the empty chair, and stands against yonder wall to be executed for the traitor that he is. Thus half of your company shall live, and the other half shall seek death with such courage as may be granted them. Do you agree, or shall I give the signal?"
With unanimous voice they agreed, all excepting Baron Brunfels, who spoke not.
"Come, Baron, you and my devoted ex-chancellor were about to play when I came in. Begin the game."
"Very well," replied the baron, nonchalantly. "Steinmetz, the dice-box is near your hand; throw."
Some one placed the cubes in the leathern cup and handed it to the ex-chancellor, whose shivering fingers relieved him of the necessity of shaking the box. The dice rolled out on the table—a three, a four, and a one. Those nearest reported the total.
"Eight!" cried the king. "Now, Baron."
Baron Brunfels carelessly threw the dice into their receptacle, and a moment after the spotted bones clattered on the table.
"Three sixes!" cried the baron. "If I only had such luck when I played for money!"
The ex-chancellor's eyes were starting from his head, wild with fear.
"We have three throws," he screamed.
"Not so," said the king.
"I swear I understood that we were to have three chances," shrieked Steinmetz, springing from his chair. "But it is all illegal, and not to be borne. I will not have my life diced away to please either king or commons."
He drew his sword, and placed himself in an attitude of defense.
"Seize him; disarm him, and bind him," commanded the king. "There are enough gentlemen in this company to see that the rules of the game are adhered to."
Steinmetz, struggling and pleading for mercy, was speedily overpowered and bound; then his captors placed him against the wall, and resumed their seats at the table. The next man to be doomed was Count Staumn. The count rose from his chair, bowed to the king and to the assembled company, drew forth his sword, broke it over his knee, and walked to the wall of the condemned.
The remainder of the fearful contest was carried on in silence, but with great celerity, and before a quarter of an hour was past, ten men had their backs to the wall, while the remaining ten were seated at the table, some on one side, and some on the other.
The men ranged against the wall were downcast, for however bravely a soldier may meet death in a hostile encounter, it is a different matter to face it bound and helpless at the hands of the executioner.
A shade of sadness seemed to overspread the countenance of the king, who still occupied the position he had taken at the first, with his back towards the fire.
Baron Brunfels shifted uneasily in his seat, and glanced now and then with compassion at his sentenced comrades. He was first to break the silence.
"Your Majesty," he said, "I am always loath to see a coward die. The whimperings of your former chancellor annoy me; therefore will I gladly take his place, and give to him the life and liberty you perhaps design for me, if, in exchange, I have the privilege of speaking my mind regarding you and your precious kingship."
"Unbind the valiant Steinmetz," said
