One
trumpeter rode at the side of the troop, and in front a standard-bearer,
matted down the chest with ochre beard, displayed aloft to the good
citizens of Cologne, three brown hawks, with birds in their beaks, on an
azure stardotted field.
'Holy Cross!' exclaimed Gottlieb, low in his throat; 'the arms of Werner!
Where got he money to mount his men? Why, this is daring all Cologne in
our very teeth! 'Fend that he visit me now! Ruin smokes in that
ruffian's track. I 've felt hot and cold by turns all day.'
The horsemen came jingling carelessly along the street in scattered twos
and threes, laughing together, and singling out the maidens at the gable-
shadowed windows with hawking eyes. The good citizens of Cologne did not
look on them favourably. Some showed their backs and gruffly banged
their doors: others scowled and pocketed their fists: not a few slunk
into the side alleys like well-licked curs, and scurried off with
forebent knees. They were in truth ferocious-looking fellows these
trusty servants of the robber Baron Werner, of Werner's Eck, behind
Andernach. Leather, steel, and dust, clad them from head to foot; big
and black as bears; wolf-eyed, fox-nosed. They glistened bravely in the
falling beams of the sun, and Margarita thrust her fair braided yellow
head a little forward over her father's shoulder to catch the whole
length of the grim cavalcade.
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