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diff --git a/3139-0.txt b/3139-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5e49444 --- /dev/null +++ b/3139-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11753 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Dove in the Eagle's Nest, by Charlotte M. +Yonge, Illustrated by W. J. Hennessy + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Dove in the Eagle's Nest + + +Author: Charlotte M. Yonge + + + +Release Date: April 21, 2013 [eBook #3139] +[This file was first posted on December 30, 2000] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOVE IN THE EAGLE'S NEST*** + + +Transcribed from the 1890 Macmillan and Co. edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + + + +THE +DOVE IN THE EAGLE’S NEST + + + BY + + CHARLOTTE M. YONGE + + [Picture: Sitting at the desk] + + _ILLUSTRATED BY W. J. HENNESSY_ + + * * * * * + + London + MACMILLAN AND CO. + AND NEW YORK + 1890 + + _The Right of Translation is Reserved_ + + * * * * * + +_First Edition_ (2 vols. Crown 8vo), 1866. _New Edition_ (1 vol. Crown + 8vo), 1869. + + _Reprinted_ 1871; January and November 1873; 1875; 1876; 1879; 1882; + 1883; + 1884; 1888. _New Edition_, 1889. _Reprinted_ 1890. + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +IN sending forth this little book, I am inclined to add a few explanatory +words as to the use I have made of historical personages. The origin of +the whole story was probably Freytag’s first series of pictures of German +Life: probably, I say, for its first commencement was a dream, dreamt +some weeks after reading that most interesting collection of sketches. +The return of the squire with the tidings of the death of the two knights +was vividly depicted in sleep; and, though without local habitation or +name, the scene was most likely to have been a reflection from the wild +scenes so lately read of. + +In fact, waking thoughts decided that such a catastrophe could hardly +have happened anywhere but in Germany, or in Scotland; and the contrast +between the cultivation in the free cities and the savagery of the +independent barons made the former the more suitable region for the +adventures. The time could only be before the taming and bringing into +order of the empire, when the Imperial cities were in their greatest +splendour, the last free nobles in course of being reduced from their +lawless liberty, and the House of Austria beginning to acquire its +preponderance over the other princely families. + +M. Freytag’s books, and Hegewisch’s History of Maximilian, will, I think, +be found fully to bear out the picture I have tried to give of the state +of things in the reign of the Emperor Friedrich III., when, for want of +any other law, _Faust recht_, or fist right, ruled; _i.e._ an offended +nobleman, having once sent a _Fehde-brief_ to his adversary, was +thenceforth at liberty to revenge himself by a private war, in which, for +the wrong inflicted, no justice was exacted. + +Hegewisch remarks that the only benefit of this custom was, that the +honour of subscribing a feud-brief was so highly esteemed that it induced +the nobles to learn to write! The League of St. George and the Swabian +League were the means of gradually putting down this authorized condition +of deadly feud. + +This was in the days of Maximilian’s youth. He is a prince who seems to +have been almost as inferior in his foreign to what he was in his +domestic policy as was Queen Elizabeth. He is chiefly familiar to us as +failing to keep up his authority in Flanders after the death of Mary of +Burgundy, as lingering to fulfil his engagement with Anne of Brittany +till he lost her and her duchy, as incurring ridicule by his ill-managed +schemes in Italy, and the vast projects that he was always forming +without either means or steadiness to carry them out, by his perpetual +impecuniosity and slippery dealing; and in his old age he has become +rather the laughing-stock of historians. + +But there is much that is melancholy in the sight of a man endowed with +genius, unbalanced by the force of character that secures success, and +with an ardent nature whose intention overleapt obstacles that in +practice he found insuperable. At home Maximilian raised the Imperial +power from a mere cipher to considerable weight. We judge him as if he +had been born in the purple and succeeded to a defined power like his +descendants. We forget that the head of the Holy Roman Empire had been, +ever since the extinction of the Swabian line, a mere mark for ambitious +princes to shoot at, with everything expected from him, and no means to +do anything. Maximilian’s own father was an avaricious, undignified old +man, not until near his death Archduke of even all Austria, and with +anarchy prevailing everywhere under his nominal rule. It was in the time +of Maximilian that the Empire became as compact and united a body as +could be hoped of anything so unwieldy, that law was at least +acknowledged, _Faust recht_ for ever abolished, and the Emperor became +once more a real power. + +The man under whom all this was effected could have been no fool; yet, as +he said himself, he reigned over a nation of kings, who each chose to +rule for himself; and the uncertainty of supplies of men or money to be +gained from them made him so often fail necessarily in his engagements, +that he acquired a shiftiness and callousness to breaches of promise, +which became the worst flaw in his character. But of the fascination of +his manner there can be no doubt. Even Henry VIII.’s English +ambassadors, when forced to own how little they could depend on him, and +how dangerous it was to let subsidies pass through his fingers, still +show themselves under a sort of enchantment of devotion to his person, +and this in his old age, and when his conduct was most inexcusable and +provoking. + +His variety of powers was wonderful. He was learned in many languages—in +all those of his empire or hereditary states, and in many besides; and he +had an ardent love of books, both classical and modern. He delighted in +music, painting, architecture, and many arts of a more mechanical +description; wrote treatises on all these, and on other subjects, +especially gardening and gunnery. He was the inventor of an improved +lock to the arquebus, and first divined how to adapt the disposition of +his troops to the use of the newly-discovered fire-arms. And in all +these things his versatile head and ready hand were personally employed, +not by deputy; while coupled with so much artistic taste was a violent +passion for hunting, which carried him through many hairbreadth ’scapes. +“It was plain,” he used to say, “that God Almighty ruled the world, or +how could things go on with a rogue like Alexander VI. at the head of the +Church, and a mere huntsman like himself at the head of the Empire.” His +_bon-mots_ are numerous, all thoroughly characteristic, and showing that +brilliancy in conversation must have been one of his greatest charms. It +seems as if only self-control and resolution were wanting to have made +him a Charles, or an Alfred, the Great. + +The romance of his marriage with the heiress of Burgundy is one of the +best known parts of his life. He was scarcely two-and-twenty when he +lost her, who perhaps would have given him the stability he wanted; but +his tender hove for her endured through life. It is not improbable that +it was this still abiding attachment that made him slack in overcoming +difficulties in the way of other contracts, and that he may have hoped +that his engagement to Bianca Sforza would come to nothing, like so many +others. + +The most curious record of him is, however, in two books, the materials +for which he furnished, and whose composition and illustration he +superintended, _Der Weise King_, and _Theurdank_, of both of which he is +well known to be the hero. The White, or the Wise King, it is uncertain +which, is a history of his education and exploits, in prose. Every +alternate page has its engraving, showing how the Young White King +obtains instruction in painting, architecture, language, and all arts and +sciences, the latter including magic—which he learns of an old woman with +a long-tailed demon sitting, like Mother Hubbard’s cat, on her +shoulder—and astrology. In the illustration of this study an +extraordinary figure of a cross within a circle appears in the sky, which +probably has some connection with his scheme of nativity, for it also +appears on the breast of Ehrenhold, his constant companion in the +metrical history of his career, under the name of Theurdank. + +The poetry of _Theurdank_ was composed by Maximilian’s old +writing-master, Melchior Pfinznig; but the adventures were the Kaisar’s +own, communicated by himself, and he superintended the wood-cuts. The +name is explained to mean “craving glory,”—Gloriæmemor. The Germans +laugh to scorn a French translator, who rendered it “Chermerci.” It was +annotated very soon after its publication, and each exploit explained and +accounted for. It is remarkable and touching in a man who married at +eighteen, and was a widower at twenty-two, that, in both books, the happy +union with his lady love is placed at the end—not at the beginning of the +book; and in _Theurdank_, at least, the eternal reunion is clearly meant. + +In this curious book, König Römreich, by whom every contemporary +understood poor Charles of Burgundy—thus posthumously made King of Rome +by Maximilian, as the only honour in his power, betroths his daughter +Ehrenreich (rich in honour) to the Ritter Theurdank. Soon after, by a +most mild version of Duke Charles’s frightful end, König Römreich is seen +on his back dying in a garden, and Ehrenreich (as Mary really did) +despatches a ring to summon her betrothed. + +But here Theurdank returns for answer that he means first to win honour +by his exploits, and sets out with his comrade, Ehrenhold, in search +thereof. Ehrenhold never appears of the smallest use to him in any of +the dire adventures into which he falls, but only stands complacently by, +and in effect may represent Fame, or perhaps that literary sage whom Don +Quixote always supposed to be at hand to record his deeds of prowess. + +Next we are presented with the German impersonation of Satan as a wise +old magician, only with claws instead of feet, commissioning his three +captains (_hauptleutern_), Fürwitz, Umfallo, and Neidelhard, to beset and +ruin Theurdank. They are interpreted as the dangers of youth, middle +life, and old age—Rashness, Disaster, and Distress (or Envy). One at a +time they encounter him,—not once, but again and again; and he has ranged +under each head, in entire contempt of real order of time, the perils he +thinks owing to each foe. Fürwitz most justly gets the credit of +Maximilian’s perils on the steeple of Ulm, though, unfortunately, the +artist has represented the daring climber as standing not much above the +shoulders of Fürwitz and Ehrenhold; and although the annotation tells us +that his “hinder half foot” overhung the scaffold, the danger in the +print is not appalling. Fürwitz likewise inveigles him into putting the +point (_schnäbel_) of his shoe into the wheel of a mill for turning stone +balls, where he certainly hardly deserved to lose nothing but the beak of +his shoe. This enemy also brings him into numerous unpleasant +predicaments on precipices, where he hangs by one hand; while the chamois +stand delighted on every available peak, Fürwitz grins malevolently, and +Ehrenhold stands pointing at him over his shoulder. Time and place are +given in the notes for all these escapes. After some twenty adventures +Fürwitz is beaten off, and Umfallo tries his powers. Here the +misadventures do not involve so much folly on the hero’s part—though, to +be sure, he ventures into a lion’s den unarmed, and has to beat off the +inmates with a shovel. But the other adventures are more rational. He +catches a jester—of admirably foolish expression—putting a match to a +powder-magazine; he is wonderfully preserved in mountain avalanches and +hurricanes; reins up his horse on the verge of an abyss; falls through +ice in Holland and shows nothing but his head above it; cures himself of +a fever by draughts of water, to the great disgust of his physicians, and +escapes a fire bursting out of a tall stove. + +Neidelhard brings his real battles and perils. From this last he is in +danger of shipwreck, of assassination, of poison, in single combat, or in +battle; tumults of the people beset him; he is imprisoned as at Ghent. +But finally Neidelhard is beaten back; and the hero is presented to +Ehrenreich. Ehrenhold recounts his triumphs, and accuses the three +captains. One is hung, another beheaded, the third thrown headlong from +a tower, and a guardian angel then summons Theurdank to his union with +his Queen. No doubt this reunion was the life-dream of the harassed, +busy, inconsistent man, who flashed through the turmoils of the early +sixteenth century. + +The adventures of Maximilian which have been adverted to in the story are +all to be found in Theurdank, and in his early life he was probably the +brilliant eager person we have tried in some degree to describe. In his +latter years it is well known that he was much struck by Luther’s +arguments; and, indeed, he had long been conscious of need of Church +reform, though his plans took the grotesque form of getting himself made +Pope, and taking all into his own hands. + +Perhaps it was unwise to have ever so faintly sketched Ebbo’s career +through the ensuing troubles; but the history of the star and of the +spark in the stubble seemed to need completion; and the working out of +the character of the survivor was unfinished till his course had been +thought over from the dawn of the Wittenberg teaching, which must have +seemed no novelty to an heir of the doctrine of Tauler, and of the +veritably Catholic divines of old times. The idea is of the supposed +course of a thoughtful, refined, conscientious man through the earlier +times of the Reformation, glad of the hope of cleansing the Church, but +hoping to cleanse, not to break away from her—a hope that Luther himself +long cherished, and which was not entirely frustrated till the +re-assembly at Trent in the next generation. Justice has never been done +to the men who feared to loose their hold on the Church Catholic as the +one body to which the promises were made. Their loyalty has been treated +as blindness, timidity, or superstition; but that there were many such +persons, and those among the very highest minds of their time, no one can +have any doubt after reading such lives as those of Friedrich the Wise of +Saxony, of Erasmus, of Vittoria Colonna, or of Cardinal Giustiniani. + +_April_ 9, 1836. + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + +“She was too young and too delicate to reject _Page_ 37 +civilization, and she let Christina braid her hair, bathe +her, and arrange her dress, with sensations of comfort +that were almost like health” _Front_ +Henceforth mine own lady-mother is the mistress of this 126 +castle, and whoever speaks a rude word to her offends the +Freiherr von Adlerstein +“‘No; only I saw that you stayed here all alone,’ she 269 +said, clasping her hands” + + + + +CHAPTER I +MASTER GOTTFRIED’S WORKSHOP + + +THE upper lattices of a tall, narrow window were open, and admitted the +view, of first some richly-tinted vine leaves and purpling grapes, then, +in dazzling freshness of new white stone, the lacework fabric of a +half-built minster spire, with a mason’s crane on the summit, bending as +though craving for a further supply of materials; and beyond, peeping +through every crevice of the exquisite open fretwork, was the intensely +blue sky of early autumn. + +The lower longer panes of the window were closed, and the glass, divided +into circles and quarrels, made the scene less distinct; but still the +huge stone tower was traceable, and, farther off, the slope of a +gently-rising hill, clothed with vineyards blushing into autumn richness. +Below, the view was closed by the gray wall of a court-yard, laden with +fruit-trees in full bearing, and inclosing paved paths that radiated from +a central fountain, and left spaces between, where a few summer flowers +still lingered, and the remains of others showed what their past glory +had been. + +The interior of the room was wainscoted, the floor paved with bright red +and cream-coloured tiles, and the tall stove in one corner decorated with +the same. The eastern end of the apartment was adorned with an exquisite +small group carved in oak, representing the carpenter’s shop at Nazareth, +with the Holy Child instructed by Joseph in the use of tools, and the +Mother sitting with her book, “pondering these things in her heart.” All +around were blocks of wood and carvings in varying states of +progress—some scarcely shaped out, and others in perfect completion. And +the subjects were equally various. Here was an adoring angel with folded +wings, clasped hands, and rapt face; here a majestic head of an apostle +or prophet; here a lovely virgin saint, seeming to play smilingly with +the instrument of her martyrdom; here a grotesque _miserere_ group, +illustrating a fairy tale, or caricaturing a popular fable here a +beauteous festoon of flowers and fruit, emulating nature in all save +colour; and on the work-table itself, growing under the master’s hand, +was a long wreath, entirely composed of leaves and seed-vessels in their +quaint and beauteous forms—the heart-shaped shepherd’s purse, the +mask-like skull-cap, and the crowned urn of the henbane. The starred cap +of the poppy was actually being shaped under the tool, copied from a +green capsule, surmounted with purple velvety rays, which, together with +its rough and wavy leaf, was held in the hand of a young maiden who knelt +by the table, watching the work with eager interest. + +She was not a beautiful girl—not one of those whose “bright eyes rain +influence, and judge the prize.” She was too small, too slight, too +retiring for such a position. If there was something lily-like in her +drooping grace, it was not the queen-lily of the garden that she +resembled, but the retiring lily of the valley—so purely, transparently +white was her skin, scarcely tinted by a roseate blush on the cheek, so +tender and modest the whole effect of her slender figure, and the soft, +downcast, pensive brown eyes, utterly dissimilar in hue from those of all +her friends and kindred, except perhaps the bright, quick ones of her +uncle, the master-carver. Otherwise, his portly form, open visage, and +good-natured stateliness, as well as his furred cap and gold chain, were +thoroughly those of the German burgomaster of the fifteenth century; but +those glittering black eyes had not ceased to betray their French, or +rather Walloon, origin, though for several generations back the family +had been settled at Ulm. Perhaps, too, it was Walloon quickness and +readiness of wit that had made them, so soon as they became affiliated, +so prominent in all the councils of the good free city, and so noted for +excellence in art and learning. Indeed the present head of the family, +Master Gottfried Sorel, was so much esteemed for his learning that he had +once had serious thoughts of terming himself Magister Gothofredus +Oxalicus, and might have carried it out but for the very decided +objections of his wife, Dame Johanna, and his little niece, Christina, to +being dubbed by any such surname. + +Master Gottfried had had a scapegrace younger brother named Hugh, who had +scorned both books and tools, had been the plague of the workshop, and, +instead of coming back from his wandering year of improvement, had joined +a band of roving Lanzknechts. No more had been heard of him for a dozen +or fifteen years, when he suddenly arrived at the paternal mansion at +Ulm, half dead with intermittent fever, and with a young, broken-hearted, +and nearly expiring wife, his spoil in his Italian campaigns. His rude +affection had utterly failed to console her for her desolated home and +slaughtered kindred, and it had so soon turned to brutality that, when +brought to comparative peace and rest in his brother’s home, there was +nothing left for the poor Italian but to lie down and die, commending her +babe in broken German to Hausfrau Johanna, and blessing Master Gottfried +for his flowing Latin assurances that the child should be to them even as +the little maiden who was lying in the God’s acre upon the hillside. + +And verily the little Christina had been a precious gift to the bereaved +couple. Her father had no sooner recovered than he returned to his +roving life, and, except for a report that he had been seen among the +retainers of one of the robber barons of the Swabian Alps, nothing had +been heard of him; and Master Gottfried only hoped to be spared the +actual pain and scandal of knowing when his eyes were blinded and his +head swept off at a blow, or when he was tumbled headlong into a moat, +suspended from a tree, or broken on the wheel: a choice of fates that was +sure sooner or later to befall him. Meantime, both the burgomeister and +burgomeisterinn did their utmost to forget that the gentle little girl +was not their own; they set all their hopes and joys on her, and, making +her supply the place at once of son and daughter, they bred her up in all +the refinements and accomplishments in which the free citizens of Germany +took the lead in the middle and latter part of the fifteenth century. To +aid her aunt in all house-wifely arts, to prepare dainty food and varied +liquors, and to spin, weave, and broider, was only a part of Christina’s +training; her uncle likewise set great store by her sweet Italian voice, +and caused her to be carefully taught to sing and play on the lute, and +he likewise delighted in hearing her read aloud to him from the +hereditary store of MSS. and from the dark volumes that began to proceed +from the press. Nay, Master Gottfried had made experiments in printing +and wood-engraving on his own account, and had found no head so +intelligent, no hand so desirous to aid him, as his little Christina’s, +who, in all that needed taste and skill rather than strength, was worth +all his prentices and journeymen together. Some fine bold wood-cuts had +been produced by their joint efforts; but these less important +occupations had of late been set aside by the engrossing interest of the +interior fittings of the great “Dome Kirk,” which for nearly a century +had been rising by the united exertions of the burghers, without any +assistance from without. The foundation had been laid in 1377; and at +length, in the year of grace 1472, the crown of the apse had been closed +in, and matters were so forward that Master Gottfried’s stall work was +already in requisition for the choir. + +“Three cubits more,” he reckoned. “Child, hast thou found me fruits +enough for the completing of this border?” + +“O yes, mine uncle. I have the wild rosehip, and the flat shield of the +moonwort, and a pea-pod, and more whose names I know not. But should +they all be seed and fruit?” + +“Yea, truly, my Stina, for this wreath shall speak of the goodly fruits +of a completed life.” + +“Even as that which you carved in spring told of the blossom and fair +promise of youth,” returned the maiden. “Methinks the one is the most +beautiful, as it ought to be;” then, after a little pause, and some +reckoning, “I have scarce seed-pods enough in store, uncle; might we not +seek some rarer shapes in the herb-garden of Master Gerhard, the +physician? He, too, might tell me the names of some of these.” + +“True, child; or we might ride into the country beyond the walls, and +seek them. What, little one, wouldst thou not?” + +“So we go not far,” faltered Christina, colouring. + +“Ha, thou hast not forgotten the fright thy companions had from the +Schlangenwald reitern when gathering Maydew? Fear not, little coward; if +we go beyond the suburbs we will take Hans and Peter with their halberts. +But I believe thy silly little heart can scarce be free for enjoyment if +it can fancy a Reiter within a dozen leagues of thee.” + +“At your side I would not fear. That is, I would not vex thee by my +folly, and I might forget it,” replied Christina, looking down. + +“My gentle child!” the old man said approvingly. “Moreover, if our good +Raiser has his way, we shall soon be free of the reitern of +Schlangenwald, and Adlerstein, and all the rest of the mouse-trap barons. +He is hoping to form a league of us free imperial cities with all the +more reasonable and honest nobles, to preserve the peace of the country. +Even now a letter from him was read in the Town Hall to that effect; and, +when all are united against them, my lords-mousers must needs become +pledged to the league, or go down before it.” + +“Ah! that will be well,” cried Christina. “Then will our wagons be no +longer set upon at the Debateable Ford by Schlangenwald or Adlerstein; +and our wares will come safely, and there will be wealth enough to raise +our spire! O uncle, what a day of joy will that be when Our Lady’s great +statue will be set on the summit!” + +“A day that I shall scarce see, and it will be well if thou dost,” +returned her uncle, “unless the hearts of the burghers of Ulm return to +the liberality of their fathers, who devised that spire! But what +trampling do I hear?” + +There was indeed a sudden confusion in the house, and, before the uncle +and niece could rise, the door was opened by a prosperous apple-faced +dame, exclaiming in a hasty whisper, “Housefather, O Housefather, there +are a troop of reitern at the door, dismounting already;” and, as the +master came forward, brushing from his furred vest the shavings and dust +of his work, she added in a more furtive, startled accent, “and, if I +mistake not, one is thy brother!” + +“He is welcome,” replied Master Gottfried, in his cheery fearless voice; +“he brought us a choice gift last time he came; and it may be he is ready +to seek peace among us after his wanderings. Come hither, Christina, my +little one; it is well to be abashed, but thou art not a child who need +fear to meet a father.” + +Christina’s extreme timidity, however, made her pale and crimson by +turns, perhaps by the infection of anxiety from her aunt, who could not +conceal a certain dissatisfaction and alarm, as the maiden, led on either +side by her adopted parents, thus advanced from the little studio into a +handsomely-carved wooden gallery, projecting into a great wainscoated +room, with a broad carved stair leading down into it. Down this stair +the three proceeded, and reached the stone hall that lay beyond it, just +as there entered from the trellised porch, that covered the steps into +the street, a thin wiry man, in a worn and greasy buff suit, guarded on +the breast and arms with rusty steel, and a battered helmet with the +vizor up, disclosing a weather-beaten bronzed face, with somewhat wild +dark eyes, and a huge grizzled moustache forming a straight line over his +lips. Altogether he was a complete model of the lawless Reiter or +Lanzknecht, the terror of Swabia, and the bugbear of Christina’s +imagination. The poor child’s heart died within her as she perceived the +mutual recognition between her uncle and the new comer; and, while Master +Gottfried held out his hands with a cordial greeting of “Welcome, home, +brother Hugh,” she trembled from head to foot, as she sank on her knees, +and murmured, “Your blessing, honoured father.” + +“Ha? What, this is my girl? What says she? My blessing, eh? There +then, thou hast it, child, such as I have to give, though they’ll tell +thee at Adlerstein that I am more wont to give the other sort of +blessing! Now, give me a kiss, girl, and let me see thee! How now!” as +he folded her in his rough arms; “thou art a mere feather, as slight as +our sick Jungfrau herself.” And then, regarding her, as she stood +drooping, “Thou art not half the woman thy mother was—she was stately and +straight as a column, and tall withal.” + +“True!” replied Hausfrau Johanna, in a marked tone; “but both she and her +poor babe had been so harassed and wasted with long journeys and +hardships, that with all our care of our Christina, she has never been +strong or well-grown. The marvel is that she lived at all.” + +“Our Christina is not beautiful, we know,” added her uncle, reassuringly +taking her hand; “but she is a good and meek maiden.” + +“Well, well,” returned the Lanzknecht, “she will answer the purpose well +enough, or better than if she were fair enough to set all our fellows +together by the ears for her. Camilla, I say—no, what’s her name, +Christina?—put up thy gear and be ready to start with me to-morrow +morning for Adlerstein.” + +“For Adlerstein?” re-echoed the housemother, in a tone of horrified +dismay; and Christina would have dropped on the floor but for her uncle’s +sustaining hand, and the cheering glance with which he met her imploring +look. + +“Let us come up to the gallery, and understand what you desire, brother,” +said Master Gottfried, gravely. “Fill the cup of greeting, Hans. Your +followers shall be entertained in the hall,” he added. + +“Ay, ay,” quoth Hugh, “I will show you reason over a goblet of the old +Rosenburg. Is it all gone yet, brother Goetz? No? I reckon there would +not be the scouring of a glass left of it in a week if it were at +Adlerstein.” + +So saying, the trooper crossed the lower room, which contained a huge +tiled baking oven, various brilliantly-burnished cooking utensils, and a +great carved cupboard like a wooden bedstead, and, passing the door of +the bathroom, clanked up the oaken stairs to the gallery, the +reception-room of the house. It had tapestry hangings to the wall, and +cushions both to the carved chairs and deep windows, which looked out +into the street, the whole storey projecting into close proximity with +the corresponding apartment of the Syndic Moritz, the goldsmith on the +opposite side. An oaken table stood in the centre, and the gallery was +adorned with a dresser, displaying not only bright pewter, but goblets +and drinking cups of beautifully-shaped and coloured glass, and +saltcellars, tankards, &c. of gold and silver. + +“Just as it was in the old man’s time,” said the soldier, throwing +himself into the housefather’s chair. “A handful of Lanzknechts would +make short work with your pots and pans, good sister Johanna.” + +“Heaven forbid!” said poor Johanna under her breath. “Much good they do +you, up in a row there, making you a slave to furbishing them. There’s +more sense in a chair like this—that does rest a man’s bones. Here, +Camilla, girl, unlace my helmet! What, know’st not how? What is a woman +made for but to let a soldier free of his trappings? Thou hast done it! +There! Now my boots,” stretching out his legs. + +“Hans shall draw off your boots, fair brother,” began the dame; but poor +Christina, the more anxious to propitiate him in little things, because +of the horror and dread with which his main purpose inspired her, was +already on her knees, pulling with her small quivering hands at the long +steel-guarded boot—a task to which she would have been utterly +inadequate, but for some lazy assistance from her father’s other foot. +She further brought a pair of her uncle’s furred slippers, while Reiter +Hugh proceeded to dangle one of the boots in the air, expatiating on its +frail condition, and expressing his intention of getting a new pair from +Master Matthias, the sutor, ere he should leave Ulm on the morrow. Then, +again, came the dreaded subject; his daughter must go with him. + +“What would you with Christina, brother?” gravely asked Master Gottfried, +seating himself on the opposite side of the stove, while out of sight the +frightened girl herself knelt on the floor, her head on her aunt’s knees, +trying to derive comfort from Dame Johanna’s clasping hands, and vehement +murmurs that they would not let their child be taken from them. Alas! +these assurances were little in accordance with Hugh’s rough reply, “And +what is it to you what I do with mine own?” + +“Only this, that, having bred her up as my child and intended heiress, I +might have some voice.” + +“Oh! in choosing her mate! Some mincing artificer, I trow, fiddling away +with wood and wire to make gauds for the fair-day! Hast got him here? +If I like him, and she likes him, I’ll bring her back when her work is +done.” + +“There is no such person as yet in the case,” said Gottfried. “Christina +is not yet seventeen, and I would take my time to find an honest, pious +burgher, who will value this precious jewel of mine.” + +“And let her polish his flagons to the end of her days,” laughed Hugh +grimly, but manifestly somewhat influenced by the notion of his brother’s +wealth. “What, hast no child of thine own?” he added. + +“None, save in Paradise,” answered Gottfried, crossing himself. “And +thus, if Christina should remain with me, and be such as I would have +her, then, brother, my wealth, after myself and my good housewife, shall +be hers, with due provision for thee, if thou shouldst weary of thy wild +life. Otherwise,” he added, looking down, and speaking in an under tone, +“my poor savings should go to the completion of the Dome Kirk.” + +“And who told thee, Goetz, that I would do ought with the girl that +should hinder her from being the very same fat, sourkrout-cooking, +pewter-scrubbing housewife of thy mind’s eye?” + +“I have heard nothing of thy designs as yet, brother Hugh, save that thou +wouldst take her to Adlerstein, which men greatly belie if it be not a +nest of robbers.” + +“Aha! thou hast heard of Adlerstein! We have made the backs of your +jolly merchants tingle as well as they could through their well-lined +doublets! Ulm knows of Adlerstein, and the Debateable Ford!” + +“It knows little to its credit,” said Gottfried, gravely; “and it knows +also that the Emperor is about to make a combination against all the +Swabian robber-holds, and that such as join not in it will fare the +worse.” + +“Let Kaiser Fritz catch his bear ere he sells its hide! He has never +tried to mount the Eagle’s Ladder! Why, man, Adlerstein might be held +against five hundred men by sister Johanna with her rock and spindle! +’Tis a free barony, Master Gottfried, I tell thee—has never sworn +allegiance to Kaiser or Duke of Swabia either! Freiherr Eberhard is as +much a king on his own rock as Kaiser Fritz ever was of the Romans, and +more too, for I never could find out that they thought much of our king +at Rome; and, as to gainsaying our old Freiherr, one might as well leap +over the abyss at once.” + +“Yes, those old free barons are pitiless tyrants,” said Gottfried, “and I +scarce think I can understand thee aright when I hear thee say thou +wouldst carry thy daughter to such an abode.” + +“It is the Freiherr’s command,” returned Hugh. “Look you, they have had +wondrous ill-luck with their children; the Freiherrinn Kunigunde has had +a dozen at least, and only two are alive, my young Freiherr and my young +Lady Ermentrude; and no wonder, you would say, if you could see the +gracious Freiherrinn, for surely Dame Holda made a blunder when she +fished her out of the fountain woman instead of man. She is Adlerstein +herself by birth, married her cousin, and is prouder and more dour than +our old Freiherr himself—fitter far to handle shield than swaddled babe. +And now our Jungfrau has fallen into a pining waste, that ’tis a pity to +see how her cheeks have fallen away, and how she mopes and fades. Now, +the old Freiherr and her brother, they both dote on her, and would do +anything for her. They thought she was bewitched, so we took old Mother +Ilsebill and tried her with the ordeal of water; but, look you, she sank +as innocent as a puppy dog, and Ursel was at fault to fix on any one +else. Then one day, when I looked into the chamber, I saw the poor +maiden sitting, with her head hanging down, as if ’twas too heavy for +her, on a high-backed chair, no rest for her feet, and the wind blowing +keen all round her, and nothing to taste but scorched beef, or black +bread and sour wine, and her mother rating her for foolish fancies that +gave trouble. And, when my young Freiherr was bemoaning himself that we +could not hear of a Jew physician passing our way to catch and bring up +to cure her, I said to him at last that no doctor could do for her what +gentle tendance and nursing would, for what the poor maiden needed was to +be cosseted and laid down softly, and fed with broths and possets, and +all that women know how to do with one another. A proper scowl and hard +words I got from my gracious Lady, for wanting to put burgher softness +into an Adlerstein; but my old lord and his son opened on the scent at +once. ‘Thou hast a daughter?’ quoth the Freiherr. ‘So please your +gracious lordship,’ quoth I; ‘that is, if she still lives, for I left her +a puny infant.’ ‘Well,’ said my lord, ‘if thou wilt bring her here, and +her care restores my daughter to health and strength, then will I make +thee my body squire, with a right to a fourth part of all the spoil, and +feed for two horses in my stable.’ And young Freiherr Eberhard gave his +word upon it.” + +Gottfried suggested that a sick nurse was the person required rather than +a child like Christina; but, as Hugh truly observed, no nurse would +voluntarily go to Adlerstein, and it was no use to wait for the hopes of +capturing one by raid or foray. His daughter was at his own disposal, +and her services would be repaid by personal advantages to himself which +he was not disposed to forego; in effect these were the only means that +the baron had of requiting any attendance upon his daughter. + +The citizens of old Germany had the strongest and most stringent ideas of +parental authority, and regarded daughters as absolute chattels of their +father; and Master Gottfried Sorel, though he alone had done the part of +a parent to his niece, felt entirely unable to withstand the nearer +claim, except by representations; and these fell utterly disregarded, as +in truth every counsel had hitherto done, upon the ears of Reiter Hugh, +ever since he had emerged from his swaddling clothes. The plentiful +supper, full cup of wine, the confections, the soft chair, together +perhaps with his brother’s grave speech, soon, however, had the effect of +sending him into a doze, whence he started to accept civilly the proposal +of being installed in the stranger’s room, where he was speedily snoring +between two feather beds. + +Then there could be freedom of speech in the gallery, where the uncle and +aunt held anxious counsel over the poor little dark-tressed head that +still lay upon good Johanna’s knees. The dame was indignant and +resolute: “Take the child back with him into a very nest of robbers!—her +own innocent dove whom they had shielded from all evil like a very nun in +a cloister! She should as soon think of yielding her up to be borne off +by the great Satan himself with his horns and hoofs.” + +“Hugh is her father, housewife,” said the master-carver. + +“The right of parents is with those that have done the duty of parents,” +returned Johanna. “What said the kid in the fable to the goat that +claimed her from the sheep that bred her up? I am ashamed of you, +housefather, for not better loving your own niece.” + +“Heaven knows how I love her,” said Gottfried, as the sweet face was +raised up to him with a look acquitting him of the charge, and he bent to +smooth back the silken hair, and kiss the ivory brow; “but Heaven also +knows that I see no means of withholding her from one whose claim is +closer than my own—none save one; and to that even thou, housemother, +wouldst not have me resort.” + +“What is it?” asked the dame, sharply, yet with some fear. + +“To denounce him to the burgomasters as one of the Adlerstein retainers +who robbed Philipp der Schmidt, and have him fast laid by the heels.” + +Christina shuddered, and Dame Johanna herself recoiled; but presently +exclaimed, “Nay, you could not do that, good man, but wherefore not +threaten him therewith? Stand at his bedside in early dawn, and tell him +that, if he be not off ere daylight with both his cut-throats, the +halberdiers will be upon him.” + +“Threaten what I neither could nor would perform, mother? That were a +shrewish resource.” + +“Yet would it save the child,” muttered Johanna. But, in the meantime, +Christina was rising from the floor, and stood before them with loose +hair, tearful eyes, and wet, flushed cheeks. “It must be thus,” she +said, in a low, but not unsteady voice. “I can bear it better since I +have heard of the poor young lady, sick and with none to care for her. I +will go with my father; it is my duty. I will do my best; but oh! uncle, +so work with him that he may bring me back again.” + +“This from thee, Stina!” exclaimed her aunt; “from thee who art sick for +fear of a lanzknecht!” + +“The saints will be with me, and you will pray for me,” said Christina, +still trembling. + +“I tell thee, child, thou knowst not what these vile dens are. Heaven +forfend thou shouldst!” exclaimed her aunt. “Go only to Father +Balthazar, housefather, and see if he doth not call it a sending of a +lamb among wolves.” + +“Mind’st thou the carving I did for Father Balthazar’s own oratory?” +replied Master Gottfried. + +“I talk not of carving! I talk of our child!” said the dame, petulantly. + +“_Ut agnus inter lupos_,” softly said Gottfried, looking tenderly, though +sadly, at his niece, who not only understood the quotation, but well +remembered the carving of the cross-marked lamb going forth from its fold +among the howling wolves. + +“Alas! I am not an apostle,” said she. + +“Nay, but, in the path of duty, ’tis the same hand that sends thee +forth,” answered her uncle, “and the same will guard thee.” + +“Duty, indeed!” exclaimed Johanna. “As if any duty could lead that silly +helpless child among that herd of evil men, and women yet worse, with a +good-for-nothing father, who would sell her for a good horse to the first +dissolute Junker who fell in his way.” + +“I will take care that he knows it is worth his while to restore her safe +to us. Nor do I think so ill of Hugh as thou dost, mother. And, for the +rest, Heaven and the saints and her own discretion must be her guard till +she shall return to us.” + +“How can Heaven be expected to protect her when you are flying in its +face by not taking counsel with Father Balthazar?” + +“That shalt thou do,” replied Gottfried, readily, secure that Father +Balthazar would see the matter in the same light as himself, and +tranquillize the good woman. It was not yet so late but that a servant +could be despatched with a request that Father Balthazar, who lived not +many houses off in the same street, would favour the Burgomeisterinn +Sorel by coming to speak with her. In a few minutes he appeared,—an aged +man, with a sensible face, of the fresh pure bloom preserved by a +temperate life. He was a secular parish-priest, and, as well as his +friend Master Gottfried, held greatly by the views left by the famous +Strasburg preacher, Master John Tauler. After the good housemother had, +in strong terms, laid the case before him, she expected a trenchant +decision on her own side, but, to her surprise and disappointment, he +declared that Master Gottfried was right, and that, unless Hugh Sorel +demanded anything absolutely sinful of his daughter, it was needful that +she should submit. He repeated, in stronger terms, the assurance that +she would be protected in the endeavour to do right, and the Divine +promises which he quoted from the Latin Scriptures gave some comfort to +the niece, who understood them, while they impressed the aunt, who did +not. There was always the hope that, whether the young lady died or +recovered, the conclusion of her illness would be the term of Christina’s +stay at Adlerstein, and with this trust Johanna must content herself. +The priest took leave, after appointing with Christina to meet her in the +confessional early in the morning before mass; and half the night was +spent by the aunt and niece in preparing Christina’s wardrobe for her +sudden journey. + +Many a tear was shed over the tokens of the little services she was wont +to render, her half-done works, and pleasant studies so suddenly broken +off, and all the time Hausfrau Johanna was running on with a lecture on +the diligent preservation of her maiden discretion, with plentiful +warnings against swaggering men-at-arms, drunken lanzknechts, and, above +all, against young barons, who most assuredly could mean no good by any +burgher maiden. The good aunt blessed the saints that her Stina was +likely only to be lovely in affectionate home eyes; but, for that matter, +idle men, shut up in a castle, with nothing but mischief to think of, +would be dangerous to Little Three Eyes herself, and Christina had best +never stir a yard from her lady’s chair, when forced to meet them. All +this was interspersed with motherly advice how to treat the sick lady, +and receipts for cordials and possets; for Johanna began to regard the +case as a sort of second-hand one of her own. Nay, she even turned it +over in her mind whether she should not offer herself as the Lady +Ermentrude’s sick-nurse, as being a less dangerous commodity than her +little niece: but fears for the well-being of the master-carver, and his +Wirthschaft, and still more the notion of gossip Gertrude Grundt hearing +that she had ridden off with a wild lanzknecht, made her at once reject +the plan, without even mentioning it to her husband or his niece. + +By the time Hugh Sorel rolled out from between his feather beds, and was +about to don his greasy buff, a handsome new suit, finished point device, +and a pair of huge boots to correspond, had been laid by his bedside. + +“Ho, ho! Master Goetz,” said he, as he stumbled into the Stube, “I see +thy game. Thou wouldst make it worth my while to visit the father-house +at Ulm?” + +“It shall be worth thy while, indeed, if thou bringest me back my white +dove,” was Gottfried’s answer. + +“And how if I bring her back with a strapping reiter son-in-law?” laughed +Hugh. “What welcome should the fellow receive?” + +“That would depend on what he might be,” replied Gottfried; and Hugh, his +love of tormenting a little allayed by satisfaction in his buff suit, and +by an eye to a heavy purse that lay by his brother’s hand on the table, +added, “Little fear of that. Our fellows would look for lustier brides +than yon little pale face. ’Tis whiter than ever this morning,—but no +tears. That is my brave girl.” + +“Yes, father, I am ready to do your bidding,” replied Christina, meekly. + +“That is well, child. Mark me, no tears. Thy mother wept day and night, +and, when she had wept out her tears, she was sullen, when I would have +been friendly towards her. It was the worse for her. But, so long as +thou art good daughter to me, thou shalt find me good father to thee;” +and for a moment there was a kindliness in his eye which made it +sufficiently like that of his brother to give some consolation to the +shrinking heart that he was rending from all it loved; and she steadied +her voice for another gentle profession of obedience, for which she felt +strengthened by the morning’s orisons. + +“Well said, child. Now canst sit on old Nibelung’s croup? His back-bone +is somewhat sharper than if he had battened in a citizen’s stall; but, if +thine aunt can find thee some sort of pillion, I’ll promise thee the best +ride thou hast had since we came from Innspruck, ere thou canst +remember.” + +“Christina has her own mule,” replied her uncle, “without troubling +Nibelung to carry double.” + +“Ho! her own! An overfed burgomaster sort of a beast, that will turn +restive at the first sight of the Eagle’s Ladder! However, he may carry +her so far, and, if we cannot get him up the mountain, I shall know what +to do with him,” he muttered to himself. + +But Hugh, like many a gentleman after him, was recusant at the sight of +his daughter’s luggage; and yet it only loaded one sumpter mule, besides +forming a few bundles which could be easily bestowed upon the saddles of +his two knappen, while her lute hung by a silken string on her arm. Both +she and her aunt thought she had been extremely moderate; but his cry +was, What could she want with so much? Her mother had never been allowed +more than would go into a pair of saddle-bags; and his own Jungfrau—she +had never seen so much gear together in her life; he would be laughed to +scorn for his presumption in bringing such a fine lady into the castle; +it would be well if Freiherr Eberhard’s bride brought half as much. + +Still he had a certain pride in it—he was, after all, by birth and +breeding a burgher—and there had been evidently a softening and +civilizing influence in the night spent beneath his paternal roof, and +old habits, and perhaps likewise in the submission he had met with from +his daughter. The attendants, too, who had been pleased with their +quarters, readily undertook to carry their share of the burthen, and, +though he growled and muttered a little, he at length was won over to +consent, chiefly, as it seemed, by Christina’s obliging readiness to +leave behind the bundle that contained her holiday kirtle. + +He had been spared all needless irritation. Before his waking, Christina +had been at the priest’s cell, and had received his last blessings and +counsels, and she had, on the way back, exchanged her farewells and tears +with her two dearest friends, Barbara Schmidt, and Regina Grundt, +confiding to the former her cage of doves, and to the latter the myrtle, +which, like every German maiden, she cherished in her window, to supply +her future bridal wreath. Now pale as death, but so resolutely composed +as to be almost disappointing to her demonstrative aunt, she quietly went +through her home partings; while Hausfrau Johanna adjured her father by +all that was sacred to be a true guardian and protector of the child, and +he could not forbear from a few tormenting auguries about the lanzknecht +son-in-law. Their effect was to make the good dame more passionate in +her embraces and admonitions to Christina to take care of herself. She +would have a mass said every day that Heaven might have a care of her! + +Master Gottfried was going to ride as far as the confines of the free +city’s territory, and his round, sleek, cream-coloured palfrey, used to +ambling in civic processions, was as great a contrast to raw-boned, +wild-eyed Nibelung, all dappled with misty grey, as was the stately, +substantial burgher to his lean, hungry-looking brother, or Dame +Johanna’s dignified, curled, white poodle, which was forcibly withheld +from following Christina, to the coarse-bristled, wolfish-looking hound +who glared at the household pet with angry and contemptuous eyes, and +made poor Christina’s heart throb with terror whenever it bounded near +her. + +Close to her uncle she kept, as beneath the trellised porches that came +down from the projecting gables of the burghers’ houses many a well-known +face gazed and nodded, as they took their way through the crooked +streets, many a beggar or poor widow waved her a blessing. Out into the +market-place, with its clear fountain adorned with arches and statues, +past the rising Dome Kirk, where the swarms of workmen unbonneted to the +master-carver, and the reiter paused with an irreverent sneer at the +small progress made since he could first remember the building. How poor +little Christina’s soul clung to every cusp of the lacework spire, every +arch of the window, each of which she had hailed as an achievement! The +tears had well-nigh blinded her in a gush of feeling that came on her +unawares, and her mule had his own way as he carried her under the arch +of the tall and beautifully-sculptured bridge tower, and over the noble +bridge across the Danube. + +Her uncle spoke much, low and earnestly, to his brother. She knew it was +in commendation of her to his care, and an endeavour to impress him with +a sense of the kind of protection she would require, and she kept out of +earshot. It was enough for her to see her uncle still, and feel that his +tenderness was with her, and around her. But at last he drew his rein. +“And now, my little one, the daughter of my heart, I must bid thee +farewell,” he said. + +Christina could not be restrained from springing from her mule, and +kneeling on the grass to receive his blessing, her face hidden in her +hands, that her father might not see her tears. + +“The good God bless thee, my child,” said Gottfried, who seldom invoked +the saints; “bless thee, and bring thee back in His own good time. Thou +hast been a good child to us; be so to thine own father. Do thy work, +and come back to us again.” + +The tears rained down his cheeks, as Christina’s head lay on his bosom, +and then with a last kiss he lifted her again on her mule, mounted his +horse, and turned back to the city, with his servant. + +Hugh was merciful enough to let his daughter gaze long after the +retreating figure ere he summoned her on. All day they rode, at first +through meadow lands and then through more broken, open ground, where at +mid-day they halted, and dined upon the plentiful fare with which the +housemother had provided them, over which Hugh smacked his lips, and +owned that they did live well in the old town! Could Christina make such +sausages? + +“Not as well as my aunt.” + +“Well, do thy best, and thou wilt win favour with the baron.” + +The evening began to advance, and Christina was very weary, as the purple +mountains that she had long watched with a mixture of fear and hope began +to look more distinct, and the ground was often in abrupt ascents. Her +father, without giving space for complaints, hurried her on. He must +reach the Debateable Ford ere dark. It was, however, twilight when they +came to an open space, where, at the foot of thickly forest-clad rising +ground, lay an expanse of turf and rich grass, through which a stream +made its way, standing in a wide tranquil pool as if to rest after its +rough course from the mountains. Above rose, like a dark wall, crag upon +crag, peak on peak, in purple masses, blending with the sky; and Hugh, +pointing upwards to a turreted point, apparently close above their heads, +where a star of light was burning, told her that there was Adlerstein, +and this was the Debateable Ford. + +In fact, as he explained, while splashing through the shallow expanse, +the stream had changed its course. It was the boundary between the lands +of Schlangenwald and Adlerstein, but it had within the last sixty years +burst forth in a flood, and had then declined to return to its own bed, +but had flowed in a fresh channel to the right of the former one. The +Freiherren von Adlerstein claimed the ground to the old channel, the +Graffen von Schlangenwald held that the river was the landmark; and the +dispute had a greater importance than seemed explained from the worth of +the rushy space of ground in question, for this was the passage of the +Italian merchants on their way from Constance, and every load that was +overthrown in the river was regarded as the lawful prey of the noble on +whose banks the catastrophe befell. + +Any freight of goods was anxiously watched by both nobles, and it was not +their fault if no disaster befell the travellers. Hugh talked of the +Schlangenwald marauders with the bitterness of a deadly feud, but +manifestly did not breathe freely till his whole convoy were safe across +both the wet and the dry channel. + +Christina supposed they should now ascend to the castle; but her father +laughed, saying that the castle was not such a step off as she fancied, +and that they must have daylight for the Eagle’s Stairs. He led the way +through the trees, up ground that she thought mountain already, and +finally arrived at a miserable little hut, which served the purpose of an +inn. + +He was received there with much obsequiousness, and was plainly a great +authority there. Christina, weary and frightened, descended from her +mule, and was put under the protection of a wild, rough-looking peasant +woman, who stared at her like something from another world, but at length +showed her a nook behind a mud partition, where she could spread her +mantle, and at least lie down, and tell her beads unseen, if she could +not sleep in the stifling, smoky atmosphere, amid the sounds of carousal +among her father and his fellows. + +The great hound came up and smelt to her. His outline was so-wolfish, +that she had nearly screamed: but, more in terror at the men who might +have helped her than even at the beast, she tried to smooth him with her +trembling hand, whispered his name of “Festhold,” and found him licking +her hand, and wagging his long rough tail. And he finally lay down at +her feet, as though to protect her. + +“Is it a sign that good angels will not let me be hurt?” she thought, +and, wearied out, she slept. + + + + +CHAPTER II +THE EYRIE + + +CHRISTINA SOREL awoke to a scene most unlike that which had been wont to +meet her eyes in her own little wainscoted chamber high in the gabled +front of her uncle’s house. It was a time when the imperial free towns +of Germany had advanced nearly as far as those of Italy in civilization, +and had reached a point whence they retrograded grievously during the +Thirty Years’ War, even to an extent that they have never entirely +recovered. The country immediately around them shared the benefits of +their civilization, and the free peasant-proprietors lived in great ease +and prosperity, in beautiful and picturesque farmsteads, enjoying a +careless abundance, and keeping numerous rural or religious feasts, where +old Teutonic mythological observances had received a Christian colouring +and adaptation. + +In the mountains, or around the castles, it was usually very different. +The elective constitution of the empire, the frequent change of dynasty, +the many disputed successions, had combined to render the sovereign +authority uncertain and feeble, and it was seldom really felt save in the +hereditary dominions of the Kaiser for the time being. Thus, while the +cities advanced in the power of self-government, and the education it +conveyed, the nobles, especially those whose abodes were not easily +accessible, were often practically under no government at all, and felt +themselves accountable to no man. The old wild freedom of the Suevi, and +other Teutonic tribes, still technically, and in many cases practically, +existed. The Heretogen, Heerzogen, or, as we call them, Dukes, had +indeed accepted employment from the Kaiser as his generals, and had +received rewards from him; the Gerefen, or Graffen, of all kinds were his +judges, the titles of both being proofs of their holding commissions +from, and being thus dependent on, the court. But the Freiherren, a word +very inadequately represented by our French term of baron, were +absolutely free, “never in bondage to any man,” holding their own, and +owing no duty, no office; poorer, because unendowed by the royal +authority, but holding themselves infinitely higher, than the pensioners +of the court. Left behind, however, by their neighbours, who did their +part by society, and advanced with it, the Freiherren had been for the +most part obliged to give up their independence and fall into the system, +but so far in the rear, that they ranked, like the barons of France and +England, as the last order of nobility. + +Still, however, in the wilder and more mountainous parts of the country, +some of the old families of unreduced, truly free Freiherren lingered, +their hand against every man, every man’s hand against them, and ever +becoming more savage, both positively and still more proportionately, as +their isolation and the general progress around them became greater. The +House of Austria, by gradually absorbing hereditary states into its own +possessions, was, however, in the fifteenth century, acquiring a +preponderance that rendered its possession of the imperial throne almost +a matter of inheritance, and moreover rendered the supreme power far more +effective than it had ever previously been. Freidrich III. a man still +in full vigour, and with an able and enterprising son already elected to +the succession, was making his rule felt, and it was fast becoming +apparent that the days of the independent baronies were numbered, and +that the only choice that would soon be left them would be between making +terms and being forcibly reduced. Von Adlerstein was one of the oldest +of these free families. If the lords of the Eagle’s Stone had ever +followed the great Konrads and Freidrichs of Swabia in their imperial +days, their descendants had taken care to forget the weakness, and +believed themselves absolutely free from all allegiance. + +And the wildness of their territory was what might be expected from their +hostility to all outward influences. The hostel, if it deserved the +name, was little more than a charcoal-burner’s hut, hidden in the woods +at the foot of the mountain, serving as a halting-place for the +Freiherren’s retainers ere they attempted the ascent. The inhabitants +were allowed to ply their trade of charring wood in the forest on +condition of supplying the castle with charcoal, and of affording a +lodging to the followers on occasions like the present. + +Grimy, half-clad, and brawny, with the whites of his eyes gleaming out of +his black face, Jobst the Kohler startled Christina terribly when she +came into the outer room, and met him returning from his night’s work, +with his long stoking-pole in his hand. Her father shouted with laughter +at her alarm. + +“Thou thinkest thyself in the land of the kobolds and dwarfs, my girl! +Never mind, thou wilt see worse than honest Jobst before thou hast done. +Now, eat a morsel and be ready—mountain air will make thee hungry ere +thou art at the castle. And, hark thee, Jobst, thou must give +stable-room to yon sumpter-mule for the present, and let some of my +daughter’s gear lie in the shed.” + +“O father!” exclaimed Christina, in dismay. + +“We’ll bring it up, child, by piecemeal,” he said in a low voice, “as we +can; but if such a freight came to the castle at once, my lady would have +her claws on it, and little more wouldst thou ever see thereof. +Moreover, I shall have enough to do to look after thee up the ascent, +without another of these city-bred beasts.” + +“I hope the poor mule will be well cared for. I can pay for—” began +Christina; but her father squeezed her arm, and drowned her soft voice in +his loud tones. + +“Jobst will take care of the beast, as belonging to me. Woe betide him, +if I find it the worse!”—and his added imprecations seemed unnecessary, +so earnest were the asseverations of both the man and his wife that the +animal should be well cared for. + +“Look you, Christina,” said Hugh Sorel, as soon as he had placed her on +her mule, and led her out of hearing, “if thou hast any gold about thee, +let it be the last thing thou ownest to any living creature up there.” +Then, as she was about to speak—“Do not even tell me. I _will_ not +know.” The caution did not add much to Christina’s comfort; but she +presently asked, “Where is thy steed, father?” + +“I sent him up to the castle with the Schneiderlein and Yellow Lorentz,” +answered the father. “I shall have ado enough on foot with thee before +we are up the Ladder.” + +The father and daughter were meantime proceeding along a dark path +through oak and birch woods, constantly ascending, until the oak grew +stunted and disappeared, and the opening glades showed steep, stony, +torrent-furrowed ramparts of hillside above them, looking to Christina’s +eyes as if she were set to climb up the cathedral side like a snail or a +fly. She quite gasped for breath at the very sight, and was told in +return to wait and see what she would yet say to the Adlerstreppe, or +Eagle’s Ladder. Poor child! she had no raptures for romantic scenery; +she knew that jagged peaks made very pretty backgrounds in illuminations, +but she had much rather have been in the smooth meadows of the environs +of Ulm. The Danube looked much more agreeable to her, silver-winding +between its green banks, than did the same waters leaping down with noisy +voices in their stony, worn beds to feed the river that she only knew in +his grave breadth and majesty. Yet, alarmed as she was, there was +something in the exhilaration and elasticity of the mountain air that +gave her an entirely new sensation of enjoyment and life, and seemed to +brace her limbs and spirits for whatever might be before her; and, +willing to show herself ready to be gratified, she observed on the +freshness and sweetness of the air. + +“Thou find’st it out, child? Ay, ’tis worth all the feather-beds and +pouncet-boxes in Ulm; is it not? That accursed Italian fever never left +me till I came up here. A man can scarce draw breath in your foggy +meadows below there. Now then, here is the view open. What think you of +the Eagle’s Nest?” + +For, having passed beyond the region of wood they had come forth upon the +mountain-side. A not immoderately steep slope of boggy, mossy-looking +ground covered with bilberries, cranberries, &c. and with bare rocks here +and there rising, went away above out of her ken; but the path she was +upon turned round the shoulder of the mountain, and to the left, on a +ledge of rock cut off apparently on their side by a deep ravine, and with +a sheer precipice above and below it, stood a red stone pile, with one +turret far above the rest. + +“And this is Schloss Adlerstein?” she exclaimed. + +“That is Schloss Adlerstein; and there shalt thou be in two hours’ time, +unless the devil be more than usually busy, or thou mak’st a fool of +thyself. If so, not Satan himself could save thee.” + +It was well that Christina had resolution to prevent her making a fool of +herself on the spot, for the thought of the pathway turned her so dizzy +that she could only shut her eyes, trusting that her father did not see +her terror. Soon the turn round to the side of the mountain was made, +and the road became a mere track worn out on the turf on the hillside, +with an abyss beneath, close to the edge of which the mule, of course, +walked. + +When she ventured to look again, she perceived that the ravine was like +an enormous crack open on the mountain-side, and that the stream that +formed the Debateable Ford flowed down the bottom of it. The ravine +itself went probably all the way up the mountain, growing shallower as it +ascended higher; but here, where Christina beheld it, it was extremely +deep, and savagely desolate and bare. She now saw that the Eagle’s +Ladder was a succession of bare gigantic terraces of rock, of which the +opposite side of the ravine was composed, and on one of which stood the +castle. It was no small mystery to her how it had ever been built, or +how she was ever to get there. She saw in the opening of the ravine the +green meadows and woods far below; and, when her father pointed out to +her the Debateable Ford, apparently much nearer to the castle than they +themselves were at present, she asked why they had so far overpassed the +castle, and come by this circuitous course. + +“Because,” said Hugh, “we are not eagles outright. Seest thou not, just +beyond the castle court, this whole crag of ours breaks off short, falls +like the town wall straight down into the plain? Even this cleft that we +are crossing by, the only road a horse can pass, breaks off short and +sudden too, so that the river is obliged to take leaps which nought else +but a chamois could compass. A footpath there is, and Freiherr Eberhard +takes it at all times, being born to it; but even I am too stiff for the +like. Ha! ha! Thy uncle may talk of the Kaiser and his League, but he +would change his note if we had him here.” + +“Yet castles have been taken by hunger,” said Christina. + +“What, knowest thou so much?—True! But look you,” pointing to a white +foamy thread that descended the opposite steeps, “yonder beck dashes +through the castle court, and it never dries; and see you the ledge the +castle stands on? It winds on out of your sight, and forms a path which +leads to the village of Adlerstein, out on the other slope of the +mountains; and ill were it for the serfs if they victualled not the +castle well.” + +The fearful steepness of the ground absorbed all Christina’s attention. +The road, or rather stairs, came down to the stream at the bottom of the +fissure, and then went again on the other side up still more tremendous +steeps, which Hugh climbed with a staff, sometimes with his hand on the +bridle, but more often only keeping a watchful eye on the sure-footed +mule, and an arm to steady his daughter in the saddle when she grew +absolutely faint with giddiness at the abyss around her. She was too +much in awe of him to utter cry or complaint, and, when he saw her effort +to subdue her mortal terror, he was far from unkind, and let her feel his +protecting strength. + +Presently a voice was heard above—“What, Sorel, hast brought her! +Trudchen is wearying for her.” + +The words were in the most boorish dialect and pronunciation, the +stranger to Christina’s ears, because intercourse with foreign merchants, +and a growing affectation of Latinism, had much refined the city language +to which she was accustomed; and she was surprised to perceive by her +father’s gesture and address that the speaker must be one of the lords of +the castle. She looked up, and saw on the pathway above her a tall, +large-framed young man, his skin dyed red with sun and wind, in odd +contrast with his pale shaggy hair, moustache, and beard, as though the +weather had tanned the one and bleached the other. His dress was a still +shabbier buff suit than her father had worn, but with a +richly-embroidered belt sustaining a hunting-horn with finely-chased +ornaments of tarnished silver, and an eagle’s plume was fastened into his +cap with a large gold Italian coin. He stared hard at the maiden, but +vouchsafed her no token of greeting—only distressed her considerably by +distracting her father’s attention from her mule by his questions about +the journey, all in the same rude, coarse tone and phraseology. Some +amount of illusion was dispelled. Christina was quite prepared to find +the mountain lords dangerous ruffians, but she had expected the graces of +courtesy and high birth; but, though there was certainly an air of +command and freedom of bearing about the present specimen, his manners +and speech were more uncouth than those of any newly-caught apprentice of +her uncle, and she could not help thinking that her good aunt Johanna +need not have troubled herself about the danger of her taking a liking to +any such young Freiherr as she here beheld. + +By this time a last effort of the mule had climbed to the level of the +castle. As her father had shown her, there was precipice on two sides of +the building; on the third, a sheer wall of rock going up to a huge +height before it reached another of the Eagle’s Steps; and on the fourth, +where the gateway was, the little beck had been made to flow in a deep +channel that had been hollowed out to serve as a moat, before it bounded +down to swell the larger water-course in the ravine. A temporary bridge +had been laid across; the drawbridge was out of order, and part of Hugh’s +business had been to procure materials for mending its apparatus. +Christina was told to dismount and cross on foot. The unrailed board, so +close to the abyss, and with the wild water foaming above and below, was +dreadful to her; and, though she durst not speak, she hung back with an +involuntary shudder, as her father, occupied with the mule, did not think +of giving her a hand. The young baron burst out into an unrestrained +laugh—a still greater shock to her feelings; but at the same time he +roughly took her hand, and almost dragged her across, saying, “City +bred—ho, ho!” “Thanks, sir,” she strove to say, but she was very near +weeping with the terror and strangeness of all around. + +The low-browed gateway, barely high enough to admit a man on horseback, +opened before her, almost to her feelings like the gate of the grave, and +she could not help crossing herself, with a silent prayer for protection, +as she stepped under it, and came into the castle court—not such a court +as gave its name to fair courtesy, but, if truth must be told, far more +resembling an ill-kept, ill-savoured stable-yard, with the piggeries +opening into it. In unpleasantly close quarters, the Schneiderlein, or +little tailor, _i.e._ the biggest and fiercest of all the knappen, was +grooming Nibelung; three long-backed, long-legged, frightful swine were +grubbing in a heap of refuse; four or five gaunt ferocious-looking dogs +came bounding up to greet their comrade Festhold; and a great old +long-bearded goat stood on the top of the mixen, looking much disposed to +butt at any newcomer. The Sorel family had brought cleanliness from +Flanders, and Hausfrau Johanna was scrupulously dainty in all her +appointments. Christina scarcely knew how she conveyed herself and her +blue kirtle across the bemired stones to the next and still darker +portal, under which a wide but rough ill-hewn stair ascended. The +stables, in fact, occupied the lower floor of the main building, and not +till these stairs had ascended above them did they lead out into the +castle hall. Here were voices—voices rude and harsh, like those +Christina had shrunk from in passing drinking booths. There was a long +table, with rough men-at-arms lounging about, and staring rudely at her; +and at the upper end, by a great open chimney, sat, half-dozing, an +elderly man, more rugged in feature than his son; and yet, when he roused +himself and spoke to Hugh, there was a shade more of breeding, and less +of clownishness in his voice and deportment, as if he had been less +entirely devoid of training. A tall darkly-robed woman stood beside +him—it was her harsh tone of reproof and command that had so startled +Christina as she entered—and her huge towering cap made her look gigantic +in the dim light of the smoky hall. Her features had been handsome, but +had become hardened into a grim wooden aspect; and with sinking spirits +Christina paused at the step of the daïs, and made her reverence, wishing +she could sink beneath the stones of the pavement out of sight of these +terrible personages. + +“So that’s the wench you have taken all this trouble for,” was +Freiherrinn Kunigunde’s greeting. “She looks like another sick baby to +nurse; but I’ll have no trouble about her;—that is all. Take her up to +Ermentrude; and thou, girl, have a care thou dost her will, and puttest +none of thy city fancies into her head.” + +“And hark thee, girl,” added the old Freiherr, sitting up. “So thou +canst nurse her well, thou shalt have a new gown and a stout husband.” + +“That way,” pointed the lady towards one of the four corner towers; and +Christina moved doubtfully towards it, reluctant to quit her father, her +only protector, and afraid to introduce herself. The younger Freiherr, +however, stepped before her, went striding two or three steps at a time +up the turret stair, and, before Christina had wound her way up, she +heard a thin, impatient voice say, “Thou saidst she was come, Ebbo.” + +“Yes, even so,” she heard Freiherr Eberhard return; “but she is slow and +town-bred. She was afraid of crossing the moat.” And then both laughed, +so that Christina’s cheeks tingled as she emerged from the turret into +another vaulted room. “Here she is,” quoth the brother; “now will she +make thee quite well.” + +It was a very bare and desolate room, with no hangings to the rough stone +walls, and scarcely any furniture, except a great carved bedstead, one +wooden chair, a table, and some stools. On the bare floor, in front of +the fire, her arm under her head, and a profusion of long hair falling +round her like flax from a distaff, lay wearily a little figure, beside +whom Sir Eberhard was kneeling on one knee. + +“Here is my sisterling,” said he, looking up to the newcomer. “They say +you burgher women have ways of healing the sick. Look at her. Think you +you can heal her?” + +In an excess of dumb shyness Ermentrude half rose, and effectually +hindered any observations on her looks by hiding her face away upon her +brother’s knee. It was the gesture of a child of five years old, but +Ermentrude’s length of limb forbade Christina to suppose her less than +fourteen or fifteen. “What, wilt not look at her?” he said, trying to +raise her head; and then, holding out one of her wasted, feverish hands +to Christina, he again asked, with a wistfulness that had a strange +effect from the large, tall man, almost ten years her elder, “Canst thou +cure her, maiden?” + +“I am no doctor, sir,” replied Christina; “but I could, at least, make +her more comfortable. The stone is too hard for her.” + +“I will not go away; I want the fire,” murmured the sick girl, holding +out her hands towards it, and shivering. + +Christina quickly took off her own thick cloth mantle, well lined with +dressed lambskins, laid it on the floor, rolled the collar of it over a +small log of wood—the only substitute she could see for a pillow—and +showed an inviting couch in an instant. Ermentrude let her brother lay +her down, and then was covered with the ample fold. She smiled as she +turned up her thin, wasted face, faded into the same whitey-brown tint as +her hair. “That is good,” she said, but without thanks; and, feeling the +soft lambswool: “Is that what you burgher-women wear? Father is to give +me a furred mantle, if only some court dame would pass the Debateable +Ford. But the Schlangenwaldern got the last before ever we could get +down. Jobst was so stupid. He did not give us warning in time; but he +is to be hanged next time if he does not.” + +Christina’s blood curdled as she heard this speech in a weak little +complaining tone, that otherwise put her sadly in mind of Barbara +Schmidt’s little sister, who had pined and wasted to death. “Never mind, +Trudchen,” answered the brother kindly; “meantime I have kept all the +wild catskins for thee, and may be this—this—_she_ could sew them up into +a mantle for thee.” + +“O let me see,” cried the young lady eagerly; and Sir Eberhard, walking +off, presently returned with an armful of the beautiful brindled furs of +the mountain cat, reminding Christina of her aunt’s gentle domestic +favourite. Ermentrude sat up, and regarded the placing out of them with +great interest; and thus her brother left her employed, and so much +delighted that she had not flagged, when a great bell proclaimed that it +was the time for the noontide meal, for which Christina, in spite of all +her fears of the company below stairs, had been constrained by mountain +air to look forward with satisfaction. + +Ermentrude, she found, meant to go down, but with no notion of the +personal arrangements that Christina had been wont to think a needful +preliminary. With all her hair streaming, down she went, and was so +gladly welcomed by her father that it was plain that her presence was +regarded as an unusual advance towards recovery, and Christina feared +lest he might already be looking out for the stout husband. She had much +to tell him about the catskin cloak, and then she was seized with eager +curiosity at the sight of Christina’s bundles, and especially at her +lute, which she must hear at once. + +“Not now,” said her mother, “there will be jangling and jingling enough +by and by—meat now.” + +The whole establishment were taking their places—or rather tumbling into +them. A battered, shapeless metal vessel seemed to represent the +salt-cellar, and next to it Hugh Sorel seated himself, and kept a place +for her beside him. Otherwise she would hardly have had seat or food.’ +She was now able to survey the inmates of the castle. Besides the family +themselves, there were about a dozen men, all ruffianly-looking, and of +much lower grade than her father, and three women. One, old Ursel, the +wife of Hatto the forester, was a bent, worn, but not ill-looking woman, +with a motherly face; the younger ones were hard, bold creatures, from +whom Christina felt a shrinking recoil. The meal was dressed by Ursel +and her kitchen boy. From a great cauldron, goat’s flesh and broth +together were ladled out into wooden bowls. That every one provided +their own spoon and knife—no fork—was only what Christina was used to in +the most refined society, and she had the implements in a pouch hanging +to her girdle; but she was not prepared for the unwashed condition of the +bowls, nor for being obliged to share that of her father—far less for the +absence of all blessing on the meal, and the coarse boisterousness of +manners prevailing thereat. Hungry as she was, she did not find it easy +to take food under these circumstances, and she was relieved when +Ermentrude, overcome by the turmoil, grew giddy, and was carried upstairs +by her father, who laid her down upon her great bed, and left her to the +attendance of Christina. Ursel had followed, but was petulantly repulsed +by her young lady in favour of the newcomer, and went away grumbling. + +Nestled on her bed, Ermentrude insisted on hearing the lute, and +Christina had to creep down to fetch it, with some other of her goods, in +trembling haste, and redoubled disgust at the aspect of the meal, which +looked even more repulsive in this later stage, and to one who was no +longer partaking of it. + +Low and softly, with a voice whence she could scarcely banish tears, and +in dread of attracting attention, Christina sung to the sick girl, who +listened with a sort of rude wonder, and finally was lulled to sleep. +Christina ventured to lay down her instrument and move towards the +window, heavily mullioned with stone, barred with iron, and glazed with +thick glass; being in fact the only glazed window in the castle. To her +great satisfaction it did not look out over the loathsome court, but over +the opening of the ravine. The apartment occupied the whole floor of the +keep; it was stone-paved, but the roof was boarded, and there was a round +turret at each angle. One contained the staircase, and was that which +ran up above the keep, served as a watch-tower, and supported the Eagle +banner. The other three were empty, and one of these, which had a strong +door, and a long loophole window looking out over the open country, +Christina hoped that she might appropriate. The turret was immediately +over the perpendicular cliff that descended into the plain. A stone +thrown from the window would have gone straight down, she knew not where. +Close to her ears rushed the descending waterfall in its leap over the +rock side, and her eyes could rest themselves on the green meadow land +below, and the smooth water of the Debateable Ford; nay—far, far away +beyond retreating ridges of wood and field—she thought she could track a +silver line and, guided by it, a something that might be a city. Her +heart leapt towards it, but she was recalled by Ermentrude’s fretfully +imperious voice. + +“I was only looking forth from the window, lady,” she said, returning. + +“Ah! thou saw’st no travellers at the Ford?” cried Ermentrude, starting +up with lively interest. + +“No, lady; I was gazing at the far distance. Know you if it be indeed +Ulm that we see from these windows?” + +“Ulm? That is where thou comest from?” said Ermentrude languidly. + +“My happy home, with my dear uncle and aunt! O, if I can but see it +hence, it will be joy!” + +“I do not know. Let me see,” said Ermentrude, rising; but at the window +her pale blue eyes gazed vacantly as if she did not know what she was +looking at or for. + +“Ah! if the steeple of the Dome Kirk were but finished, I could not +mistake it,” said Christina. “How beauteous the white spire will look +from hence!” + +“Dome Kirk?” repeated Ermentrude; “what is that?” + +Such an entire blank as the poor child’s mind seemed to be was +inconceivable to the maiden, who had been bred up in the busy hum of men, +where the constant resort of strange merchants, the daily interests of a +self-governing municipality, and the numerous festivals, both secular and +religious, were an unconscious education, even without that which had +been bestowed upon her by teachers, as well as by her companionship with +her uncle, and participation in his studies, taste and arts. + +Ermentrude von Adlerstein had, on the contrary, not only never gone +beyond the Kohler’s hut on the one side, and the mountain village on the +other, but she never seen more of life than the festival at the wake the +hermitage chapel there on Midsummer-day. The only strangers who ever +came to the castle were disbanded lanzknechts who took service with her +father, or now and then a captive whom he put to ransom. She knew +absolutely nothing of the world, except for a general belief that +Freiherren lived there to do what they chose with other people, and that +the House of Adlerstein was the freest and noblest in existence. Also +there was a very positive hatred to the house of Schlangenwald, and no +less to that of Adlerstein Wildschloss, for no reason that Christina +could discover save that, being a younger branch of the family, they had +submitted to the Emperor. To destroy either the Graf von Schlangenwald, +or her Wildschloss cousin, was evidently the highest gratification +Ermentrude could conceive; and, for the rest, that her father and brother +should make successful captures at the Debateable Ford was the more +abiding, because more practicable hope. She had no further ideas, except +perhaps to elude her mother’s severity, and to desire her brother’s +success in chamois-hunting. The only mental culture she had ever +received was that old Ursel had taught her the Credo, Pater Noster, and +Ave, as correctly as might be expected from a long course of traditionary +repetitions of an incomprehensible language. And she knew besides a few +German rhymes and jingles, half Christian, half heathen, with a legend or +two which, if the names were Christian, ran grossly wild from all +Christian meaning or morality. As to the amenities, nay, almost the +proprieties, of life, they were less known in that baronial castle than +in any artisan’s house at Ulm. So little had the sick girl figured them +to herself, that she did not even desire any greater means of ease than +she possessed. She moaned and fretted indeed, with aching limbs and +blank weariness, but without the slightest formed desire for anything to +remove her discomfort, except the few ameliorations she knew, such as +sitting on her brother’s knee, with her head on his shoulder, or tasting +the mountain berries that he gathered for her. Any other desire she +exerted herself to frame was for finery to be gained from the spoils of +travellers. + +And this was Christina’s charge, whom she must look upon as the least +alien spirit in this dreadful castle of banishment! The young and old +lords seemed to her savage bandits, who frightened her only less than did +the proud sinister expression of the old lady, for she had not even the +merit of showing any tenderness towards the sickly girl, of whom she was +ashamed, and evidently regarded the town-bred attendant as a contemptible +interloper. + +Long, long did the maiden weep and pray that night after Ermentrude had +sunk to sleep. She strained her eyes with home-sick longings to detect +lights where she thought Ulm might be; and, as she thought of her uncle +and aunt, the poodle and the cat round the stove, the maids spinning and +the prentices knitting as her uncle read aloud some grave good book, most +probably the legend of the saint of the day, and contrasted it with the +rude gruff sounds of revelry that found their way up the turret stairs, +she could hardly restrain her sobs from awakening the young lady whose +bed she was to share. She thought almost with envy of her own patroness, +who was cast into the lake of Bolsena with a millstone about her neck—a +better fate, thought she, than to live on in such an abode of +loathsomeness and peril. + +But then had not St. Christina floated up alive, bearing up her millstone +with her? And had not she been put into a dungeon full of venomous +reptiles who, when they approached her, had all been changed to harmless +doves? Christina had once asked Father Balthazar how this could be; and +had he not replied that the Church did not teach these miracles as +matters of faith, but that she might there discern in figure how meek +Christian holiness rose above all crushing burthens, and transformed the +rudest natures. This poor maiden-dying, perhaps; and oh! how unfit to +live or die!—might it be her part to do some good work by her, and infuse +some Christian hope, some godly fear? Could it be for this that the +saints had led her hither? + + + + +CHAPTER III +THE FLOTSAM AND JETSAM OF THE DEBATEABLE FORD + + +LIFE in Schloss Adlerstein was little less intolerable than Christina’s +imagination had depicted it. It was entirely devoid of all the graces of +chivalry, and its squalor and coarseness, magnified into absurdity by +haughtiness and violence, were almost inconceivable. Fortunately for +her, the inmates of the castle resided almost wholly below stairs in the +hall and kitchen, and in some dismal dens in the thickness of their +walls. The height of the keep was intended for dignity and defence, +rather than for habitation; and the upper chamber, with its great +state-bed, where everybody of the house of Adlerstein was born and died, +was not otherwise used, except when Ermentrude, unable to bear the +oppressive confusion below stairs, had escaped thither for quietness’ +sake. No one else wished to inhabit it. The chamber above was filled +with the various appliances for the defence of the castle; and no one +would have ever gone up the turret stairs had not a warder been usually +kept on the roof to watch the roads leading to the Ford. Otherwise the +Adlersteiners had all the savage instinct of herding together in as small +a space as possible. + +Freiherrin Kunigunde hardly ever mounted to her daughter’s chamber. All +her affection was centred on the strong and manly son, of whom she was +proud, while the sickly pining girl, who would hardly find a mate of her +own rank, and who had not even dowry enough for a convent, was such a +shame and burthen to her as to be almost a distasteful object. But +perversely, as it seemed to her, the only daughter was the darling of +both father and brother, who were ready to do anything to gratify the +girl’s sick fancies, and hailed with delight her pleasure in her new +attendant. Old Ursel was at first rather envious and contemptuous of the +childish, fragile stranger, but her gentleness disarmed the old woman; +and, when it was plain that the young lady’s sufferings were greatly +lessened by tender care, dislike gave way to attachment, and there was +little more murmuring at the menial services that were needed by the two +maidens, even when Ermentrude’s feeble fancies, or Christina’s views of +dainty propriety, rendered them more onerous than before. She was even +heard to rejoice that some Christian care and tenderness had at last +reached her poor neglected child. + +It was well for Christina that she had such an ally. The poor child +never crept down stairs to the dinner or supper, to fetch food for +Ermentrude, or water for herself, without a trembling and shrinking of +heart and nerves. Her father’s authority guarded her from rude actions, +but from rough tongues he neither could nor would guard her, nor +understand that what to some would have been a compliment seemed to her +an alarming insult; and her chief safeguard lay in her own insignificance +and want of attraction, and still more in the modesty that concealed her +terror at rude jests sufficiently to prevent frightening her from +becoming an entertainment. + +Her father, whom she looked on as a cultivated person in comparison with +the rest of the world, did his best for her after his own views, and +gradually brought her all the properties she had left at the Kohler’s +hut. Therewith she made a great difference in the aspect of the chamber, +under the full sanction of the lords of the castle. Wolf, deer, and +sheep skins abounded; and with these, assisted by her father and old +Hatto, she tapestried the lower part of the bare grim walls, a great +bear’s hide covered the neighbourhood of the hearth, and cushions were +made of these skins, and stuffed from Ursel’s stores of feathers. All +these embellishments were watched with great delight by Ermentrude, who +had never been made of so much importance, and was as much surprised as +relieved by such attentions. She was too young and too delicate to +reject civilization, and she let Christina braid her hair, bathe her, and +arrange her dress, with sensations of comfort that were almost like +health. To train her into occupying herself was however, as Christina +soon found, in her present state, impossible. She could spin and sew a +little, but hated both; and her clumsy, listless fingers only soiled and +wasted Christina’s needles, silk, and lute strings, and such damage was +not so easily remedied as in the streets of Ulm. She was best provided +for when looking on at her attendant’s busy hands, and asking to be sung +to, or to hear tales of the active, busy scenes of the city life—the +dresses, fairs, festivals, and guild processions. + +[Picture: “She was too young and too delicate to reject civilization, and + she let Christina braid her hair, bathe her, and arrange her dress, with + sensations of comfort that were almost like health.”—Page 37] + +The gentle nursing and the new interests made her improve in health, so +that her father was delighted, and Christina began to hope for a return +home. Sometimes the two girls would take the air, either, on still days, +upon the battlements, where Ermentrude watched the Debateable Ford, and +Christina gazed at the Danube and at Ulm; or they would find their way to +a grassy nook on the mountain-side, where Christina gathered gentians and +saxifrage, trying to teach her young lady that they were worth looking +at, and sighing at the thought of Master Gottfried’s wreath when she met +with the asphodel seed-vessels. Once the quiet mule was brought into +requisition; and, with her brother walking by her, and Sorel and his +daughter in attendance, Ermentrude rode towards the village of +Adlerstein. It was a collection of miserable huts, on a sheltered slope +towards the south, where there was earth enough to grow some wretched rye +and buckwheat, subject to severe toll from the lord of the soil. Perched +on a hollow rock above the slope was a rude little church, over a cave +where a hermit had once lived and died in such odour of sanctity that, +his day happening to coincide with that of St. John the Baptist, the +Blessed Freidmund had acquired the credit of the lion’s share both of the +saint’s honours and of the old solstitial feast of Midsummer. This wake +was the one gaiety of the year, and attracted a fair which was the sole +occasion of coming honestly by anything from the outer world; nor had his +cell ever lacked a professional anchorite. + +The Freiherr of his day had been a devout man, who had gone a pilgrimage +with Kaiser Friedrich of the Red Beard, and had brought home a bit of +stone from the council chamber of Nicæa, which he had presented to the +little church that he had built over the cavern. He had named his son +Friedmund; and there were dim memories of his days as of a golden age, +before the Wildschlossen had carried off the best of the property, and +when all went well. + +This was Christina’s first sight of a church since her arrival, except +that in the chapel, which was a dismal neglected vault, where a ruinous +altar and mouldering crucifix testified to its sacred purpose. The old +baron had been excommunicated for twenty years, ever since he had harried +the wains of the Bishop of Augsburg on his way to the Diet; and, though +his household and family were not under the same sentence, “Sunday didna +come abune the pass.” Christina’s entreaty obtained permission to enter +the little building, but she had knelt there only a few moments before +her father came to hurry her away, and her supplications that he would +some day take her to mass there were whistled down the wind; and indeed +the hermit was a layman, and the church was only served on great +festivals by a monk from the convent of St. Ruprecht, on the distant side +of the mountain, which was further supposed to be in the Schlangenwald +interest. Her best chance lay in infusing the desire into Ermentrude, +who by watching her prayers and asking a few questions had begun to +acquire a few clearer ideas. And what Ermentrude wished had always +hitherto been acquiesced in by the two lords. + +The elder baron came little into Christina’s way. He meant to be kind to +her, but she was dreadfully afraid of him, and, when he came to visit his +daughter, shrank out of his notice as much as possible, shuddering most +of all at his attempts at civilities. His son she viewed as one of the +thickwitted giants meant to be food for the heroism of good knights of +romance. Except that he was fairly conversant with the use of weapons, +and had occasionally ridden beyond the shadow of his own mountain, his +range was quite as limited as his sister’s; and he had an equal scorn for +all beyond it. His unfailing kindness to his sister was however in his +favour, and he always eagerly followed up any suggestion Christina made +for her pleasure. + +Much of his time was spent on the child, whose chief nurse and playmate +he had been throughout her malady; and when she showed him the stranger’s +arrangements, or repeated to him, in a wondering, blundering way, with +constant appeals to her attendant, the new tales she had heard, he used +to listen with a pleased awkward amazement at his little Ermentrude’s +astonishing cleverness, joined sometimes with real interest, which was +evinced by his inquiries of Christina. He certainly did not admire the +little, slight, pale bower-maiden, but he seemed to look upon her like +some strange, almost uncanny, wise spirit out of some other sphere, and +his manner towards her had none of the offensive freedom apparent in even +the old man’s patronage. It was, as Ermentrude once said, laughing, +almost as if he feared that she might do something to him. + +Christina had expected to see a ruffian, and had found a boor; but she +was to be convinced that the ruffian existed in him. Notice came up to +the castle of a convoy of waggons, and all was excitement. Men-at-arms +were mustered, horses led down the Eagle’s Ladder, and an ambush prepared +in the woods. The autumn rains were already swelling the floods, and the +passage of the ford would be difficult enough to afford the assailants an +easy prey. + +The Freiherrinn Kunigunde herself, and all the women of the castle, +hurried into Ermentrude’s room to enjoy the view from her window. The +young lady herself was full of eager expectation, but she knew enough of +her maiden to expect no sympathy from her, and loved her well enough not +to bring down on her her mother’s attention; so Christina crept into her +turret, unable to withdraw her eyes from the sight, trembling, weeping, +praying, longing for power to give a warning signal. Could they be her +own townsmen stopped on the way to dear Ulm? + +She could see the waggons in mid-stream, the warriors on the bank; she +heard the triumphant outcries of the mother and daughter in the outer +room. She saw the overthrow, the struggle, the flight of a few scattered +dark figures on the farther side, the drawing out of the goods on the +nearer. Oh! were those leaping waves bearing down any good men’s corpses +to the Danube, slain, foully slain by her own father and this gang of +robbers? + +She was glad that Ermentrude went down with her mother to watch the +return of the victors. She crouched on the floor, sobbing, shuddering +with grief and indignation, and telling her beads alike for murdered and +murderers, till, after the sounds of welcome and exultation, she heard +Sir Eberhard’s heavy tread, as he carried his sister up stairs. +Ermentrude went up at once to Christina. + +“After all there was little for us!” she said. “It was only a wain of +wine barrels; and now will the drunkards down stairs make good cheer. +But Ebbo could only win for me this gold chain and medal which was round +the old merchant’s neck.” + +“Was he slain?” Christina asked with pale lips. + +“I only know I did not kill him,” returned the baron; “I had him down and +got the prize, and that was enough for me. What the rest of the fellows +may have done, I cannot say.” + +“But he has brought thee something, Stina,” continued Ermentrude. “Show +it to her, brother.” + +“My father sends you this for your care of my sister,” said Eberhard, +holding out a brooch that had doubtless fastened the band of the +unfortunate wine-merchant’s bonnet. + +“Thanks, sir; but, indeed, I may not take it,” said Christina, turning +crimson, and drawing back. + +“So!” he exclaimed, in amaze; then bethinking himself,—“They are no +townsfolk of yours, but Constance cowards.” + +“Take it, take it, Stina, or you will anger my father,” added Ermentrude. + +“No, lady, I thank the barons both, but it were sin in me,” said +Christina, with trembling voice. + +“Look you,” said Eberhard; “we have the full right—’tis a seignorial +right—to all the goods of every wayfarer that may be overthrown in our +river—as I am a true knight!” he added earnestly. + +“A true knight!” repeated Christina, pushed hard, and very indignant in +all her terror. “The true knight’s part is to aid, not rob, the weak.” +And the dark eyes flashed a vivid light. + +“Christina!” exclaimed Ermentrude in the extremity of her amazement, +“know you what you have said?—that Eberhard is no true knight!” + +He meanwhile stood silent, utterly taken by surprise, and letting his +little sister fight his battles. + +“I cannot help it, Lady Ermentrude,” said Christina, with trembling lips, +and eyes filling with tears. “You may drive me from the castle—I only +long to be away from it; but I cannot stain my soul by saying that spoil +and rapine are the deeds of a true knight.” + +“My mother will beat you,” cried Ermentrude, passionately, ready to fly +to the head of the stairs; but her brother laid his hand upon her. + +“Tush, Trudchen; keep thy tongue still, child! What does it hurt me?” + +And he turned on his heels and went down stairs. Christina crept into +her turret, weeping bitterly and with many a wild thought. Would they +visit her offence on her father? Would they turn them both out together? +If so, would not her father hurl her down the rocks rather than return +her to Ulm? Could she escape? Climb down the dizzy rocks, it might be, +succour the merchant lying half dead on the meadows, protect and be +protected, be once more among God-fearing Christians? And as she felt +her helplessness, the selfish thoughts passed into a gush of tears for +the murdered man, lying suffering there, and for his possible wife and +children watching for him. Presently Ermentrude peeped in. + +“Stina, Stina, don’t cry; I will not tell my mother! Come out, and +finish my kerchief! Come out! No one shall beat you.” + +“That is not what I wept for, lady,” said Christina. “I do not think you +would bring harm on me. But oh! I would I were at home! I grieve for +the bloodshed that I must see and may not hinder, and for that poor +merchant.” + +“Oh,” said Ermentrude, “you need not fear for him! I saw his own folk +return and lift him up. But what is he to thee or to us?” + +“I am a burgher maid, lady,” said Christina, recovering herself, and +aware that it was of little use to bear testimony to such an auditor as +poor little Ermentrude against the deeds of her own father and brother, +which had in reality the sort of sanction Sir Eberhard had mentioned, +much akin to those coast rights that were the temptation of wreckers. + +Still she could not but tremble at the thought of her speech, and went +down to supper in greater trepidation than usual, dreading that she +should be expected to thank the Freiherr for his gift. But, fortunately, +manners were too rare at Adlerstein for any such omission to be +remarkable, and the whole establishment was in a state of noisy triumph +and merriment over the excellence of the French wine they had captured, +so that she slipped into her seat unobserved. + +Every available drinking-horn and cup was full. Ermentrude was eagerly +presented with draughts by both father and brother, and presently Sir +Eberhard exclaimed, turning towards the shrinking Christina with a rough +laugh, “Maiden, I trow thou wilt not taste?” + +Christina shook her head, and framed a negative with her lips. + +“What’s this?” asked her father, close to whom she sat. “Is’t a +fast-day?” + +There was a pause. Many were present who regarded a fast-day much more +than the lives or goods of their neighbours. Christina again shook her +head. + +“No matter,” said good-natured Sir Eberhard, evidently wishing to avert +any ill consequence from her. “’Tis only her loss.” + +The mirth went on rough and loud, and Christina felt this the worst of +all the miserable meals she had partaken of in fear and trembling at this +place of her captivity. Ermentrude, too, was soon in such a state of +excitement, that not only was Christina’s womanhood bitterly ashamed and +grieved for her, but there was serious danger that she might at any +moment break out with some allusion to her maiden’s recusancy in her +reply to Sir Eberhard. + +Presently however Ermentrude laid down her head and began to cry—violent +headache had come on—and her brother took her in his arms to carry her up +the stairs; but his potations had begun before hers, and his step was far +from steady; he stumbled more than once on the steps, shook and +frightened his sister, and set her down weeping petulantly. And then +came a more terrible moment; his awe of Christina had passed away; he +swore that she was a lovely maiden, with only too free a tongue, and that +a kiss must be the seal of her pardon. + +A house full of intoxicated men, no living creature who would care to +protect her, scarce even her father! But extremity of terror gave her +strength. She spoke resolutely—“Sir Eberhard, your sister is ill—you are +in no state to be here. Go down at once, nor insult a free maiden.” + +Probably the low-toned softness of the voice, so utterly different from +the shrill wrangling notes of all the other women he had known, took him +by surprise. He was still sober enough to be subdued, almost cowed, by +resistance of a description unlike all he had ever seen; his alarm at +Christina’s superior power returned in full force, he staggered to the +stairs, Christina rushed after him, closed the heavy door with all her +force, fastened it inside, and would have sunk down to weep but for +Ermentrude’s peevish wail of distress. + +Happily Ermentrude was still a child, and, neglected as she had been, she +still had had no one to make her precocious in matters of this kind. She +was quite willing to take Christina’s view of the case, and not resent +the exclusion of her brother; indeed, she was unwell enough to dread the +loudness of his voice and rudeness of his revelry. + +So the door remained shut, and Christina’s resolve was taken that she +would so keep it while the wine lasted. And, indeed, Ermentrude had so +much fever all that night and the next day that no going down could be +thought of. Nobody came near the maidens but Ursel, and she described +one continued orgie that made Christina shudder again with fear and +disgust. Those below revelled without interval, except for sleep; and +they took their sleep just where they happened to sink down, then +returned again to the liquor. The old baroness repaired to the kitchen +when the revelry went beyond even her bearing; but all the time the wine +held out, the swine in the court were, as Ursel averred, better company +than the men in the hall. Yet there might have been worse even than +this; for old Ursel whispered that at the bottom of the stairs there was +a trap-door. Did the maiden know what it covered? It was an oubliette. +There was once a Strasburg armourer who had refused ransom, and talked of +appealing to the Kaiser. He trod on that door and—Ursel pointed +downwards. “But since that time,” she said, “my young lord has never +brought home a prisoner.” + +No wonder that all this time Christina cowered at the discordant sounds +below, trembled, and prayed while she waited on her poor young charge, +who tossed and moaned in fever and suffering. She was still far from +recovered when the materials of the debauch failed, and the household +began to return to its usual state. She was soon restlessly pining for +her brother; and when her father came up to see her, received him with +scant welcome, and entreaties for Ebbo. She knew she should be better if +she might only sit on his knee, and lay her head on his shoulder. The +old Freiherr offered to accommodate her; but she rejected him petulantly, +and still called for Ebbo, till he went down, promising that her brother +should come. + +With a fluttering heart Christina awaited the noble whom she had perhaps +insulted, and whose advances had more certainly insulted her. Would he +visit her with his anger, or return to that more offensive familiarity? +She longed to flee out of sight, when, after a long interval, his heavy +tread was heard; but she could not even take refuge in her turret, for +Ermentrude was leaning against her. Somehow, the step was less assured +than usual; he absolutely knocked at the door; and, when he came in, he +acknowledged her by a slight inclination of the head. If she only had +known it, this was the first time that head had ever been bent to any +being, human or Divine; but all she did perceive was that Sir Eberhard +was in neither of the moods she dreaded, only desperately shy and +sheepish, and extremely ashamed, not indeed of his excess, which would +have been, even to a much tamer German baron, only a happy accident, but +of what had passed between himself and her. + +He was much grieved to perceive how much ground Ermentrude had lost, and +gave himself up to fondling and comforting her; and in a few days more, +in their common cares for the sister, Christina lost her newly-acquired +horror of the brother, and could not but be grateful for his forbearance; +while she was almost entertained by the increased awe of herself shown by +this huge robber baron. + + + + +CHAPTER IV +SNOW-WREATHS WHEN ’TIS THAW + + +ERMENTRUDE had by no means recovered the ground she had lost, before the +winter set in; and blinding snow came drifting down day and night, +rendering the whole view, above and below, one expanse of white, only +broken by the peaks of rock which were too steep to sustain the snow. +The waterfall lengthened its icicles daily, and the whole court was +heaped with snow, up even to the top of the high steps to the hall; and +thus, Christina was told, would it continue all the winter. What had +previously seemed to her a strangely door-like window above the porch now +became the only mode of egress, when the barons went out bear or +wolf-hunting, or the younger took his crossbow and hound to provide the +wild-fowl, which, under Christina’s skilful hands, would tempt the feeble +appetite of Ermentrude when she was utterly unable to touch the salted +meats and sausages of the household. + +In spite of all endeavours to guard the windows and keep up the fire, the +cold withered the poor child like a fading leaf, and she needed more and +more of tenderness and amusement to distract her attention from her +ailments. Christina’s resources were unfailing. Out of the softer pine +and birch woods provided for the fire, she carved a set of draughtsmen, +and made a board by ruling squares on the end of a settle, and painting +the alternate ones with a compound of oil and charcoal. Even the old +Baron was delighted with this contrivance, and the pleasure it gave his +daughter. He remembered playing at draughts in that portion of his youth +which had been a shade more polished, and he felt as if the game were +making Ermentrude more hike a lady. Christina was encouraged to proceed +with a set of chessmen, and the shaping of their characteristic heads +under her dexterous fingers was watched by Ermentrude like something +magical. Indeed, the young lady entertained the belief that there was no +limit to her attendant’s knowledge or capacity. + +Truly there was a greater brightness and clearness beginning to dawn even +upon poor little Ermentrude’s own dull mind. She took more interest in +everything: songs were not solely lullabies, but she cared to talk them +over; tales to which she would once have been incapable of paying +attention were eagerly sought after; and, above all, the spiritual +vacancy that her mind had hitherto presented was beginning to be filled +up. Christina had brought her own books—a library of extraordinary +extent for a maiden of the fifteenth century, but which she owed to her +uncle’s connexion with the arts of wood-cutting and printing. A Vulgate +from Dr. Faustus’s own press, a mass book and breviary, Thomas à Kempis’s +_Imitation_ and the _Nuremburg Chronicle_ all in Latin, and the poetry of +the gentle Minnesinger and bird lover, Walther von Vogelweide, in the +vernacular: these were her stock, which Hausfrau Johanna had viewed as a +foolish encumbrance, and Hugh Sorel would never have transported to the +castle unless they had been so well concealed in Christina’s kirtles that +he had taken them for parts of her wardrobe. + +Most precious were they now, when, out of the reach of all teaching save +her own, she had to infuse into the sinking girl’s mind the great +mysteries of life and death, that so she might not leave the world +without more hope or faith than her heathen forefathers. For that +Ermentrude would live Christina had never hoped, since that fleeting +improvement had been cut short by the fever of the wine-cup; the look, +voice, and tone had become so completely the same as those of Regina +Grundt’s little sister who had pined and died. She knew she could not +cure, but she could, she felt she could, comfort, cheer, and soften, and +she no longer repined at her enforced sojourn at Adlerstein. She +heartily loved her charge, and could not bear to think how desolate +Ermentrude would be without her. And now the poor girl had become +responsive to her care. She was infinitely softened in manner, and +treated her parents with forms of respect new to them; she had learnt +even to thank old Ursel, dropped her imperious tone, and struggled with +her petulance; and, towards her brother, the domineering, uncouth +adherence was becoming real, tender affection; while the dependent, +reverent love she bestowed upon Christina was touching and endearing in +the extreme. + +Freiherr von Adlerstein saw the change, and congratulated himself on the +effect of having a town-bred bower woman; nay, spoke of the advantage it +would be to his daughter, if he could persuade himself to make the +submission to the Kaiser which the late improvements decided on at the +Diet were rendering more and more inevitable. _Now_ how happy would be +the winner of his gentle Ermentrude! + +Freiherrinn von Adlerstein thought the alteration the mere change from +child to woman, and felt insulted by the supposition that any one might +not have been proud to match with a daughter of Adlerstein, be she what +she might. As to submission to the Kaiser, that was mere folly and +weakness—kaisers, kings, dukes, and counts had broken their teeth against +the rock of Adlerstein before now! What had come over her husband and +her son to make them cravens? + +For Freiherr Eberhard was more strongly convinced than was his father of +the untenableness of their present position. Hugh Sorel’s reports of +what he heard at Ulm had shown that the league that had been discussed at +Regensburg was far more formidable than anything that had ever previously +threatened Schloss Adlerstein, and that if the Graf von Schlangenwald +joined in the coalition, there would be private malice to direct its +efforts against the Adlerstein family. Feud-letters or challenges had +been made unlawful for ten years, and was not Adlerstein at feud with the +world? + +Nor did Eberhard look on the submission with the sullen rage and grief +that his father felt in bringing himself to such a declension from the +pride of his ancestors. What the young Baron heard up stairs was +awakening in him a sense of the poorness and narrowness of his present +life. Ermentrude never spared him what interested her; and, partly from +her lips, partly through her appeals to her attendant, he had learnt that +life had better things to offer than independence on these bare rocks, +and that homage might open the way to higher and worthier exploits than +preying upon overturned waggons. + +Dietrich of Berne and his two ancestors, whose lengthy legend Christina +could sing in a low, soft recitative, were revelations to him of what she +meant by a true knight—the lion in war, the lamb in peace; the quaint +oft-repeated portraits, and still quainter cities, of the Chronicle, with +her explanations and translations, opened his mind to aspirations for +intercourse with his fellows, for an honourable name, and for esteem in +its degree such as was paid to Sir Parzival, to Karl the Great, or to +Rodolf of Hapsburgh, once a mountain lord like himself. Nay, as +Ermentrude said, stroking his cheek, and smoothing the flaxen beard, that +somehow had become much less rough and tangled than it used to be, “Some +day wilt thou be another Good Freiherr Eberhard, whom all the +country-side loved, and who gave bread at the castle-gate to all that +hungered.” + +Her brother believed nothing of her slow declension in strength, +ascribing all the change he saw to the bitter cold, and seeing but little +even of that alteration, though he spent many hours in her room, holding +her in his arms, amusing her, or talking to her and to Christina. All +Christina’s fear of him was gone. As long as there was no liquor in the +house, and he was his true self, she felt him to be a kind friend, bound +to her by strong sympathy in the love and care for his sister. She could +talk almost as freely before him as when alone with her young lady; and +as Ermentrude’s religious feelings grew stronger, and were freely +expressed to him, surely his attention was not merely kindness and +patience with the sufferer. + +The girl’s soul ripened rapidly under the new influences during her +bodily decay; and, as the days lengthened, and the stern hold of winter +relaxed upon the mountains, Christina looked with strange admiration upon +the expression that had dawned upon the features once so vacant and dull, +and listened with the more depth of reverence to the sweet words of +faith, hope and love, because she felt that a higher, deeper teaching +than she could give must have come to mould the spirit for the new world +to which it was hastening. + + “Like an army defeated, + The snow had retreated,” + +out of the valley, whose rich green shone smiling round the pool into +which the Debateable Ford spread. The waterfall had burst its icy bonds, +and dashed down with redoubled voice, roaring rather than babbling. Blue +and pink hepaticas—or, as Christina called them, liver-krauts—had pushed +up their starry heads, and had even been gathered by Sir Eberhard, and +laid on his sister’s pillow. The dark peaks of rock came out all +glistening with moisture, and the snow only retained possession of the +deep hollows and crevices, into which however its retreat was far more +graceful than when, in the city, it was trodden by horse and man, and +soiled with smoke. + +Christina dreaded indeed that the roads should be open, but she could not +love the snow; it spoke to her of dreariness, savagery, and captivity, +and she watched the dwindling stripes with satisfaction, and hailed the +fall of the petty avalanches from one Eagle’s Step to another as her +forefathers might have rejoiced in the defeat of the Frost giants. + +But Ermentrude had a love for the white sheet that lay covering a gorge +running up from the ravine. She watched its diminution day by day with a +fancy that she was melting away with it; and indeed it was on the very +day that a succession of drifting showers had left the sheet alone, and +separated it from the masses of white above, that it first fully dawned +upon the rest of the family that, for the little daughter of the house, +spring was only bringing languor and sinking instead of recovery. + +Then it was that Sir Eberhard first really listened to her entreaty that +she might not die without a priest, and comforted her by passing his word +to her that, if—he would not say when—the time drew near, he would bring +her one of the priests who had only come from St. Ruprecht’s cloister on +great days, by a sort of sufferance, to say mass at the Blessed +Friedmund’s hermitage chapel. + +The time was slow in coming. Easter had passed with Ermentrude far too +ill for Christina to make the effort she had intended of going to the +church, even if she could get no escort but old Ursel—the sheet of snow +had dwindled to a mere wreath—the ford looked blue in the sunshine—the +cascade tinkled merrily down its rock—mountain primroses peeped out, +when, as Father Norbert came forth from saying his ill-attended +Pentecostal mass, and was parting with the infirm peasant hermit, a tall +figure strode up the pass, and, as the villagers fell back to make way, +stood before the startled priest, and said, in a voice choked with grief, +“Come with me.” + +“Who needs me?” began the astonished monk. + +“Follow him not, father!” whispered the hermit. “It is the young +Freiherr.—Oh have mercy on him, gracious sir; he has done your noble +lordships no wrong.” + +“I mean him no ill,” replied Eberhard, clearing his voice with +difficulty; “I would but have him do his office. Art thou afraid, +priest?” + +“Who needs my office?” demanded Father Norbert. “Show me fit cause, and +what should I dread? Wherefore dost thou seek me?” + +“For my sister,” replied Eberhard, his voice thickening again. “My +little sister lies at the point of death, and I have sworn to her that a +priest she shall have. Wilt thou come, or shall I drag thee down the +pass?” + +“I come, I come with all my heart, sir knight,” was the ready response. +“A few moments and I am at your bidding.” + +He stepped back into the hermit’s cave, whence a stair led up to the +chapel. The anchorite followed him, whispering—“Good father, escape! +There will be full time ere he misses you. The north door leads to the +Gemsbock’s Pass; it is open now.” + +“Why should I baulk him? Why should I deny my office to the dying?” said +Norbert. + +“Alas! holy father, thou art new to this country, and know’st not these +men of blood! It is a snare to make the convent ransom thee, if not +worse. The Freiherrinn is a fiend for malice, and the Freiherr is +excommunicate.” + +“I know it, my son,” said Norbert; “but wherefore should their child +perish unassoilzied?” + +“Art coming, priest?” shouted Eberhard, from his stand at the mouth of +the cave. + +And, as Norbert at once appeared with the pyx and other appliances that +he had gone to fetch, the Freiherr held out his hand with an offer to +“carry his gear for him;” and, when the monk refused, with an inward +shudder at entrusting a sacred charge to such unhallowed hands, replied, +“You will have work enow for both hands ere the castle is reached.” + +But Father Norbert was by birth a sturdy Switzer, and thought little of +these Swabian Alps; and he climbed after his guide through the most +rugged passages of Eberhard’s shortest and most perpendicular cut without +a moment’s hesitation, and with agility worthy of a chamois. The young +baron turned for a moment, when the level of the castle had been gained, +perhaps to see whether he were following, but at the same time came to a +sudden, speechless pause. + +On the white masses of vapour that floated on the opposite side of the +mountain was traced a gigantic shadowy outline of a hermit, with head +bent eagerly forward, and arm outstretched. + +The monk crossed himself. Eberhard stood still for a moment, and then +said, hoarsely,—“The Blessed Friedmund! He is come for her;” then strode +on towards the postern gate, followed by Brother Norbert, a good deal +reassured both as to the genuineness of the young Baron’s message and the +probable condition of the object of his journey, since the patron saint +of her race was evidently on the watch to speed her departing spirit. + +Sir Eberhard led the way up the turret stairs to the open door, and the +monk entered the death-chamber. The elder Baron sat near the fire in the +large wooden chair, half turned towards his daughter, as one who must +needs be present, but with his face buried in his hands, unable to endure +the spectacle. Nearer was the tall form of his wife, standing near the +foot of the bed, her stern, harsh features somewhat softened by the +feelings of the moment. Ursel waited at hand, with tears running down +her furrowed cheeks. + +For such as these Father Norbert was prepared; but he little expected to +meet so pure and sweet a gaze of reverential welcome as beamed on him +from the soft, dark eyes of the little white-checked maiden who sat on +the bed, holding the sufferer in her arms. Still less had he anticipated +the serene blessedness that sat on the wasted features of the dying girl, +and all the anguish of labouring breath. + +She smiled a smile of joy, held up her hand, and thanked her brother. +Her father scarcely lifted his head, her mother made a rigid curtsey, and +with a grim look of sorrow coming over her features, laid her hand over +the old Baron’s shoulder. “Come away, Herr Vater,” she said; “he is +going to hear her confession, and make her too holy for the like of us to +touch.” + +The old man rose up, and stepped towards his child. Ermentrude held out +her arms to him, and murmured— + +“Father, father, pardon me; I would have been a better daughter if I had +only known—” He gathered her in his arms; he was quite past speaking; +and they only heard his heavy breathing, and one more whisper from +Ermentrude—“And oh! father, one day wilt thou seek to be absolved?” +Whether he answered or not they knew not; he only gave her repeated +kisses, and laid her down on her pillows, then rushed to the door, and +the passionate sobs of the strong man’s uncontrolled nature might be +heard upon the stair. The parting with the others was not necessarily so +complete, as they were not, like him, under censure of the Church; but +Kunigunde leant down to kiss her; and, in return to her repetition of her +entreaty for pardon, replied, “Thou hast it, child, if it will ease thy +mind; but it is all along of these new fancies that ever an Adlerstein +thought of pardon. There, there, I blame thee not, poor maid; it thou +wert to die, it may be even best as it is. Now must I to thy father; he +is troubled enough about this gear.” + +But when Eberhard moved towards his sister, she turned to the priest, and +said, imploringly, “Not far, not far! Oh! let them,” pointing to +Eberhard and Christina, “let them not be quite out of sight!” + +“Out of hearing is all that is needed, daughter,” replied the priest; and +Ermentrude looked content as Christina moved towards the empty north +turret, where, with the door open, she was in full view, and Eberhard +followed her thither. It was indeed fully out of earshot of the child’s +faint, gasping confession. Gravely and sadly both stood there. +Christina looked up the hillside for the snow-wreath. The May sunshine +had dissolved it; the green pass lay sparkling without a vestige of its +white coating. Her eyes full of tears, she pointed the spot out to +Eberhard. He understood; but, leaning towards her, told, under his +breath, of the phantom he had seen. Her eyes expanded with awe of the +supernatural. “It was the Blessed Friedmund,” said Eberhard. “Never +hath he so greeted one of our race since the pious Freiherrinn +Hildegarde. Maiden, hast thou brought us back a blessing?” + +“Ah! well may she be blessed—well may the saints stoop to greet her,” +murmured Christina, with strangled voice, scarcely able to control her +sobs. + +Father Norbert came towards them. The simple confession had been heard, +and he sought the aid of Christina in performing the last rites of the +Church. + +“Maiden,” he said to her, “thou hast done a great and blessed work, such +as many a priest might envy thee.” + +Eberhard was not excluded during the final services by which the soul was +to be dismissed from its earthly dwelling-place. True, he comprehended +little of their import, and nothing of the words, but he gazed meekly, +with uncovered head, and a bewildered look of sadness, while Christina +made her responses and took her part with full intelligence and deep +fervour, sorrowing indeed for the companion who had become so dear to +her, but deeply thankful for the spiritual consolation that had come at +last. Ermentrude lay calm, and, as it were, already rapt into a higher +world, lighting up at the German portions of the service, and not wholly +devoid of comprehension of the spirit even of the Latin, as indeed she +had come to the border of the region where human tongues and languages +are no more. + +She was all but gone when the rite of extreme unction was completed, and +they could only stand round her, Eberhard, Christina, Ursel, and the old +Baroness, who had returned again, watching the last flutterings of the +breath, the window thrown wide open that nothing might impede the passage +of the soul to the blue vault above. + +The priest spoke the beautiful commendation, “Depart, O Christian soul.” +There was a faint gesture in the midst for Christina to lift her in her +arms—a sign to bend down and kiss her brow—but her last look was for her +brother, her last murmur, “Come after me; be the Good Baron Ebbo.” + + + + +CHAPTER V +THE YOUNG FREIHERR + + +ERMENTRUDE VON ADLERSTEIN slept with her forefathers in the vaults of the +hermitage chapel, and Christina Sorel’s work was done. + +Surely it was time for her to return home, though she should be more +sorry to leave the mountain castle than she could ever have believed +possible. She entreated her father to take her home, but she received a +sharp answer that she did not know what she was talking of: the +Schlangenwald Reitern were besetting all the roads; and moreover the Ulm +burghers had taken the capture of the Constance wine in such dudgeon that +for a retainer of Adlerstein to show himself in the streets would be an +absolute asking for the wheel. + +But was there any hope for her? Could he not take her to some nunnery +midway, and let her write to her uncle to fetch her from thence? + +He swore at woman’s pertinacity, but allowed at last that if the plan, +talked of by the Barons, of going to make their submission to the Emperor +at Linz, with a view to which all violence at the ford had ceased, should +hold good, it might be possible thus to drop her on their way. + +With this Christina must needs content herself. Poor child, not only had +Ermentrude’s death deprived her of the sole object of her residence at +Schloss Adlerstein, but it had infinitely increased the difficulties of +her position. No one interfered with her possession of the upper room +and its turrets; and it was only at meal times that she was obliged to +mingle with the other inhabitants, who, for the most part, absolutely +overlooked the little shrinking pale maiden but with one exception, and +that the most perplexing of all. She had been on terms with Freiherr +Eberhard that were not so easily broken off as if she had been an old +woman of Ursel’s age. All through his sister’s decline she had been his +comforter, assistant, director, living in intercourse and sympathy that +ought surely to cease when she was no longer his sister’s attendant, yet +which must be more than ever missed in the full freshness of the stroke. + +Even on the earliest day of bereavement, a sudden thought of Hausfrau +Johanna flashed upon Christina, and reminded her of the guard she must +keep over herself if she would return to Ulm the same modest girl whom +her aunt could acquit of all indiscretion. Her cheeks flamed, as she sat +alone, with the very thought, and the next time she heard the well-known +tread on the stair, she fled hastily into her own turret chamber, and +shut the door. Her heart beat fast. She could hear Sir Eberhard moving +about the room, and listened to his heavy sigh as he threw himself into +the large chair. Presently he called her by name, and she felt it +needful to open her door and answer, respectfully, + +“What would you, my lord?” + +“What would I? A little peace, and heed to her who is gone. To see my +father and mother one would think that a partridge had but flown away. I +have seen my father more sorrowful when his dog had fallen over the +abyss.” + +“Mayhap there is more sorrow for a brute that cannot live again,” said +Christina. “Our bird has her nest by an Altar that is lovelier and +brighter than even our Dome Kirk will ever be.” + +“Sit down, Christina,” he said, dragging a chair nearer the hearth. “My +heart is sore, and I cannot bear the din below. Tell me where my bird is +flown.” + +“Ah! sir; pardon me. I must to the kitchen,” said Christina, crossing +her hands over her breast, to still her trembling heart, for she was very +sorry for his grief, but moving resolutely. + +“Must? And wherefore? Thou hast nought to do there; speak truth! Why +not stay with me?” and his great light eyes opened wide. + +“A burgher maid may not sit down with a noble baron.” + +“The devil! Has my mother been plaguing thee, child?” + +“No, my lord,” said Christina, “she reeks not of me; but”—steadying her +voice with great difficulty—“it behoves me the more to be discreet.” + +“And you would not have me come here!” he said, with a wistful tone of +reproach. + +“I have no power to forbid you; but if you do, I must betake me to Ursel +in the kitchen,” said Christina, very low, trembling and half choked. + +“Among the rude wenches there!” he cried, starting up. “Nay, nay, that +shall not be! Rather will I go.” + +“But this is very cruel of thee, maiden,” he added, lingering, “when I +give thee my knightly word that all should be as when she whom we both +loved was here,” and his voice shook. + +“It could not so be, my lord,” returned Christina with drooping, blushing +face; “it would not be maidenly in me. Oh, my lord, you are kind and +generous, make it not hard for me to do what other maidens less lonely +have friends to do for them!” + +“Kind and generous?” said Eberhard, leaning over the back of the chair as +if trying to begin a fresh score. “This from you, who told me once I was +no true knight!” + +“I shall call you a true knight with all my heart,” cried Christina, the +tears rushing into her eyes, “if you will respect my weakness and +loneliness.” + +He stood up again, as if to move away; then paused, and, twisting his +gold chain, said, “And how am I ever to be what the happy one bade me, if +you will not show me how?” + +“My error would never show you the right,” said Christina, with a strong +effort at firmness, and retreating at once through the door of the +staircase, whence she made her way to the kitchen, and with great +difficulty found an excuse for her presence there. + +It had been a hard struggle with her compassion and gratitude, and, poor +little Christina felt with dismay, with something more than these. Else +why was it that, even while principle and better sense summoned her back +to Ulm, she experienced a deadly weariness of the city-pent air, of the +grave, heavy roll of the river, nay, even of the quiet, well-regulated +household? Why did such a marriage as she had thought her natural +destiny, with some worthy, kind-hearted brother of the guild, become so +hateful to her that she could only aspire to a convent life? This same +burgomaster would be an estimable man, no doubt, and those around her +were ruffians, but she felt utterly contemptuous and impatient of him. +And why was the interchange of greetings, the few words at meals, worth +all the rest of the day besides to her? Her own heart was the traitor, +and to her own sensations the poor little thing had, in spirit at least, +transgressed all Aunt Johanna’s precepts against young Barons. She wept +apart, and resolved, and prayed, cruelly ashamed of every start of joy or +pain that the sight of Eberhard cost her. From almost the first he had +sat next her at the single table that accommodated the whole household at +meals, and the custom continued, though on some days he treated her with +sullen silence, which she blamed herself for not rejoicing in, sometimes +he spoke a few friendly words; but he observed, better than she could +have dared to expect, her test of his true knighthood, and never again +forced himself into her apartment, though now and then he came to the +door with flowers, with mountain strawberries, and once with two young +doves. “Take them, Christina,” he said, “they are very like yourself;” +and he always delayed so long that she was forced to be resolute, and +shut the door on him at last. + +Once, when there was to be a mass at the chapel, Hugh Sorel, between a +smile and a growl, informed his daughter that he would take her thereto. +She gladly prepared, and, bent on making herself agreeable to her father, +did not once press on him the necessity of her return to Ulm. To her +amazement and pleasure, the young Baron was at church, and when on the +way home, he walked beside her mule, she could see no need of sending him +away. + +He had been in no school of the conventionalities of life, and, when he +saw that Hugh Sorel’s presence had obtained him this favour, he wistfully +asked, “Christina, if I bring your father with me, will you not let me +in?” + +“Entreat me not, my lord,” she answered, with fluttering breath. + +She felt the more that she was right in this decision, when she +encountered her father’s broad grin of surprise and diversion, at seeing +the young Baron help her to dismount. It was a look of receiving an idea +both new, comical, and flattering, but by no means the look of a father +who would resent the indignity of attentions to his daughter from a man +whose rank formed an insuperable barrier to marriage. + +The effect was a new, urgent, and most piteous entreaty, that he would +find means of sending her home. It brought upon her the hearing put into +words what her own feelings had long shrunk from confessing to herself. + +“Ah! Why, what now? What, is the young Baron after thee? Ha! ha! +petticoats are few enough up here, but he must have been ill off ere he +took to a little ghost like thee! I saw he was moping and doleful, but I +thought it was all for his sister.” + +“And so it is, father.” + +“Tell me that, when he watches every turn of that dark eye of thine—the +only good thing thou took’st of mine! Thou art a witch, Stina.” + +“Hush, oh hush, for pity’s sake, father, and let me go home!” + +“What, thou likest him not? Thy mind is all for the mincing goldsmith +opposite, as I ever told thee.” + +“My mind is—is to return to my uncle and aunt the true-hearted maiden +they parted with,” said Christina, with clasped hands. “And oh, father, +as you were the son of a true and faithful mother, be a father to me now! +Jeer not your motherless child, but protect her and help her.” + +Hugh Sorel was touched by this appeal, and he likewise recollected how +much it was for his own interest that his brother should be satisfied +with the care he took of his daughter. He became convinced that the +sooner she was out of the castle the better, and at length bethought him +that, among the merchants who frequented the Midsummer Fair at the +Blessed Friedmund’s Wake, a safe escort might be found to convey her back +to Ulm. + +If the truth were known, Hugh Sorel was not devoid of a certain feeling +akin to contempt, both for his young master’s taste, and for his +forbearance in not having pushed matters further with a being so +helpless, meek, and timid as Christina, more especially as such slackness +had not been his wont in other cases where his fancy had been caught. + +But Sorel did not understand that it was not physical beauty that here +had been the attraction, though to some persons, the sweet, pensive eyes, +the delicate, pure skin, the slight, tender form, might seem to exceed in +loveliness the fully developed animal comeliness chiefly esteemed at +Adlerstein. It was rather the strangeness of the power and purity of +this timid, fragile creature, that had struck the young noble. With all +their brutal manners reverence for a lofty female nature had been in the +German character ever since their Velleda prophesied to them, and this +reverence in Eberhard bowed at the feet of the pure gentle maiden, so +strong yet so weak, so wistful and entreating even in her resolution, +refined as a white flower on a heap of refuse, wise and dexterous beyond +his slow and dull conception, and the first being in whom he had ever +seen piety or goodness; and likewise with a tender, loving spirit of +consolation such as he had both beheld and tasted by his sister’s +deathbed. + +There was almost a fear mingled with his reverence. If he had been more +familiar with the saints, he would thus have regarded the holy virgin +martyrs, nay, even Our Lady herself; and he durst not push her so hard as +to offend her, and excite the anger or the grief that he alike dreaded. +He was wretched and forlorn without the resources he had found in his +sister’s room; the new and better cravings of his higher nature had been +excited only to remain unsupplied and disappointed; and the affectionate +heart in the freshness of its sorrow yearned for the comfort that such +conversation had supplied: but the impression that had been made on him +was still such, that he knew that to use rough means of pressing his +wishes would no more lead to his real gratification than it would to +appropriate a snow-bell by crushing it in his gauntlet. + +And it was on feeble little Christina, yielding in heart, though not in +will, that it depended to preserve this reverence, and return unscathed +from this castle, more perilous now than ever. + + + + +CHAPTER VI +THE BLESSED FRIEDMUND’S WAKE + + +MIDSUMMER-DAY arrived, and the village of Adlerstein presented a most +unusual spectacle. The wake was the occasion of a grand fair for all the +mountain-side, and it was an understood thing that the Barons, instead of +molesting the pedlars, merchants, and others who attended it, contented +themselves with demanding a toll from every one who passed the Kohler’s +hut on the one side, or the Gemsbock’s Pass on the other; and this toll, +being the only coin by which they came honestly in the course of the +year, was regarded as a certainty and highly valued. Moreover, it was +the only time that any purchases could be made, and the flotsam of the +ford did not always include all even of the few requirements of the +inmates of the castle; it was the only holiday, sacred or secular, that +ever gladdened the Eagle’s Rock. + +So all the inmates of the castle prepared to enjoy themselves, except the +heads of the house. The Freiherr had never been at one of these wakes +since the first after he was excommunicated, when he had stalked round to +show his indifference to the sentence; and the Freiherrinn snarled out +such sentences of disdain towards the concourse, that it might be +supposed that she hated the sight of her kind; but Ursel had all the +household purchases to make, and the kitchen underlings were to take +turns to go and come, as indeed were the men-at-arms, who were set to +watch the toll-bars. + +Christina had packed up a small bundle, for the chance of being unable to +return to the castle without missing her escort, though she hoped that +the fair might last two days, and that she should thus be enabled to +return and bring away the rest of her property. She was more and more +resolved on going, but her heart was less and less inclined to departure. +And bitter had been her weeping through all the early light hours of the +long morning—weeping that she tried to think was all for Ermentrude; and +all, amid prayers she could scarce trust herself to offer, that the +generous, kindly nature might yet work free of these evil surroundings, +and fulfil the sister’s dying wish, she should never see it; but, when +she should hear that the Debateable Ford was the Friendly Ford, then +would she know that it was the doing of the Good Baron Ebbo. Could she +venture on telling him so? Or were it not better that there were no +farewell? And she wept again that he should think her ungrateful. She +could not persuade herself to release the doves, but committed the charge +to Ursel to let them go in case she should not return. + +So tear-stained was her face, that, ashamed that it should be seen, she +wrapped it closely in her hood and veil when she came down and joined her +father. The whole scene swam in tears before her eyes when she saw the +whole green slope from the chapel covered with tents and booths, and +swarming with pedlars and mountaineers in their picturesque dresses. +Women and girls were exchanging the yarn of their winter’s spinning for +bright handkerchiefs; men drove sheep, goats, or pigs to barter for +knives, spades, or weapons; others were gazing at simple shows—a dancing +bear or ape—or clustering round a Minnesinger; many even then +congregating in booths for the sale of beer. Further up, on the flat +space of sward above the chapel, were some lay brothers, arranging for +the representation of a mystery—a kind of entertainment which Germany +owed to the English who came to the Council of Constance, and which the +monks of St. Ruprecht’s hoped might infuse some religious notions into +the wild, ignorant mountaineers. + +First however Christina gladly entered the church. Crowded though it +were, it was calmer than the busy scene without. Faded old tapestry was +decking its walls, representing apparently some subject entirely alien to +St. John or the blessed hermit; Christina rather thought it was Mars and +Venus, but that was all the same to every one else. And there was a +terrible figure of St. John, painted life-like, with a real hair-cloth +round his loins, just opposite to her, on the step of the Altar; also +poor Friedmund’s bones, dressed up in a new serge amice and hood; the +stone from Nicæa was in a gilded box, ready in due time to be kissed; and +a preaching friar (not one of the monks of St. Ruprecht’s) was in the +midst of a sermon, telling how St. John presided at the Council of Nicæa +till the Emperor Maximius cut off his head at the instance of +Herodius—full justice being done to the dancing—and that the blood was +sprinkled on this very stone, whereupon our Holy Father the Pope decreed +that whoever would kiss the said stone, and repeat the Credo five times +afterwards, should be capable of receiving an indulgence for 500 years: +which indulgence must however be purchased at the rate of six groschen, +to be bestowed in alms at Rome. And this inestimable benefit he, poor +Friar Peter, had come from his brotherhood of St. Francis at Offingen +solely to dispense to the poor mountaineers. + +It was disappointing to find this profane mummery going on instead of the +holy services to which Christina had looked forward for strength and +comfort; she was far too well instructed not to be scandalized at the +profane deception which was ripening fast for Luther, only thirty years +later; and, when the stone was held up by the friar in one hand, the +printed briefs of indulgence in the other, she shrunk back. Her father +however said, “Wilt have one, child? Five hundred years is no bad +bargain.” + +“My uncle has small trust in indulgences,” she whispered. + +“All lies, of course,” quoth Hugh; “yet they’ve the Pope’s seal, and I +have more than half a mind to get one. Five hundred years is no joke, +and I am sure of purgatory, since I bought this medal at the Holy House +of Loretto.” + +And he went forward, and invested six groschen in one of the papers, the +most religious action poor Christina had ever seen him perform. Other +purchasers came forward—several, of the castle _knappen_, and a few +peasant women who offered yarn or cheeses as equivalents for money, but +were told with some insolence to go and sell their goods, and bring the +coin. + +After a time, the friar, finding his traffic slack, thought fit to +remove, with his two lay assistants, outside the chapel, and try the +effects of an out-of-door sermon. Hugh Sorel, who had been hitherto +rather diverted by the man’s gestures and persuasions, now decided on +going out into the fair in quest of an escort for his daughter, but as +she saw Father Norbert and another monk ascending from the stairs leading +to the hermit’s cell, she begged to be allowed to remain in the church, +where she was sure to be safe, instead of wandering about with him in the +fair. + +He was glad to be unencumbered, though he thought her taste unnatural; +and, promising to return for her when he had found an escort, he left +her. + +Father Norbert had come for the very purpose of hearing confessions, and +Christina’s next hour was the most comfortable she had spent since +Ermentrude’s death. + +After this however the priests were called away, and long, long did +Christina first kneel and then sit in the little lonely church, hearing +the various sounds without, and imagining that her father had forgotten +her, and that he and all the rest were drinking, and then what would +become of her? Why had she quitted old Ursel’s protection? + +Hours of waiting and nameless alarm must have passed, for the sun was +waxing low, when at length she heard steps coming up the hermit’s cell, +and a head rose above the pavement which she recognized with a wild throb +of joy, but, repressing her sense of gladness, she only exclaimed, “Oh, +where is my father!” + +“I have sent him to the toll at the Gemsbock’s Pass,” replied Sir +Eberhard, who had by this time come up the stairs, followed by Brother +Peter and the two lay assistants. Then, as Christina turned on him her +startled, terrified eyes in dismay and reproach for such thoughtlessness, +he came towards her, and, bending his head and opening his hand, he +showed on his palm two gold rings. “There, little one,” he said; “now +shalt thou never again shut me out.” + +Her senses grew dizzy. “Sir,” she faintly said, “this is no place to +delude a poor maiden.” + +“I delude thee not. The brother here waits to wed us.” + +“Impossible! A burgher maid is not for such as you.” + +“None but a burgher maid will I wed,” returned Sir Eberhard, with all the +settled resolution of habits of command. “See, Christina, thou art +sweeter and better than any lady in the land; thou canst make me what +she—the blessed one who lies there—would have me. I love thee as never +knight loved lady. I love thee so that I have not spoken a word to +offend thee when my heart was bursting; and”—as he saw her irrepressible +tears—“I think thou lovest me a little.” + +“Ah!” she gasped with a sob, “let me go.” + +“Thou canst not go home; there is none here fit to take charge of thee. +Or if there were, I would slay him rather than let thee go. No, not so,” +he said, as he saw how little those words served his cause; “but without +thee I were a mad and desperate man. Christina, I will not answer for +myself if thou dost not leave this place my wedded wife.” + +“Oh!” implored Christina, “if you would only betroth me, and woo me like +an honourable maiden from my home at Ulm!” + +“Betroth thee, ay, and wed thee at once,” replied Eberhard, who, all +along, even while his words were most pleading, had worn a look and +manner of determined authority and strength, good-natured indeed, but +resolved. “I am not going to miss my opportunity, or baulk the friar.” + +The friar, who had meantime been making a few needful arrangements for +the ceremony, advanced towards them. He was a good-humoured, easy-going +man, who came prepared to do any office that came in his way on such +festival days at the villages round; and peasant marriages at such times +were not uncommon. But something now staggered him, and he said +anxiously— + +“This maiden looks convent-bred! Herr Reiter, pardon me; but if this be +the breaking of a cloister, I can have none of it.” + +“No such thing,” said Eberhard; “she is town-bred, that is all.” + +“You would swear to it, on the holy mass yonder, both of you?” said the +friar, still suspiciously. + +“Yea,” replied Eberhard, “and so dost thou, Christina.” + +This was the time if ever to struggle against her destiny. The friar +would probably have listened to her if she had made any vehement +opposition to a forced marriage, and if not, a few shrieks would have +brought perhaps Father Norbert, and certainly the whole population; but +the horror and shame of being found in such a situation, even more than +the probability that she might meet with vengeance rather than +protection, withheld her. Even the friar could hardly have removed her, +and this was her only chance of safety from the Baroness’s fury. Had she +hated and loathed Sir Eberhard, perhaps she had striven harder, but his +whole demeanour constrained and quelled her, and the chief effort she +made against yielding was the reply, “I am no cloister maid, holy father, +but—” + +The “but” was lost in the friar’s jovial speech. “Oh, then, all is well! +Take thy place, pretty one, there, by the door, thou know’st it should be +in the porch, but—ach, I understand!” as Eberhard quietly drew the bolt +within. “No, no, little one, I have no time for bride scruples and +coyness; I have to train three dull-headed louts to be Shem, Ham, and +Japhet before dark. Hast confessed of late?” + +“This morning, but—” said Christina, and “This morning,” to her great +joy, said Eberhard, and, in her satisfaction thereat, her second “but” +was not followed up. + +The friar asked their names, and both gave the Christian name alone; then +the brief and simple rite was solemnized in its shortest form. Christina +had, by very force of surprise and dismay, gone through all without signs +of agitation, except the quivering of her whole frame, and the icy +coldness of the hand, where Eberhard had to place the ring on each finger +in turn. + +But each mutual vow was a strange relief to her long-tossed and divided +mind, and it was rest indeed to let her affection have its will, and own +him indeed as a protector to be loved instead of shunned. When all was +over, and he gathered the two little cold hands into his large one, his +arm supporting her trembling form, she felt for the moment, poor little +thing, as if she could never be frightened again. + +Parish registers were not, even had this been a parish church, but +Brother Peter asked, when he had concluded, “Well, my son, which of his +flock am I to report to your Pfarrer as linked together?” + +“The less your tongue wags on that matter till I call on you, the +better,” was the stern reply. “Look you, no ill shall befall you if you +are wise, but remember, against the day I call you to bear witness, that +you have this day wedded Baron Eberhard von Adlerstein the younger, to +Christina, the daughter of Hugh Sorel, the Esquire of Ulm.” + +“Thou hast played me a trick, Sir Baron!” said the friar, somewhat +dismayed, but more amused, looking up at Eberhard, who, as Christina now +saw, had divested himself of his gilt spurs, gold chain, silvered belt +and horn, and eagle’s plume, so as to have passed for a simple +lanzknecht. “I would have had no such gear as this!” + +“So I supposed,” said Eberhard coolly. + +“Young folks! young folks!” laughed the friar, changing his tone, and +holding up his finger slyly; “the little bird so cunningly nestled in the +church to fly out my Lady Baroness! Well, so thou hast a pretty, timid +lambkin there, Sir Baron. Take care you use her mildly.” + +Eberhard looked into Christina’s face with a smile, that to her, at +least, was answer enough; and he held out half a dozen links of his gold +chain to the friar, and tossed a coin to each of the lay brethren. + +“Not for the poor friar himself,” explained Brother Peter, on receiving +this marriage fee; “it all goes to the weal of the brotherhood.” + +“As you please,” said Eberhard. “Silence, that is all! And thy +friary—?” + +“The poor house of St. Francis at Offingen for the present, noble sir,” +said the priest. “There will you hear of me, if you find me not. And +now, fare thee well, my gracious lady. I hope one day thou wilt have +more words to thank the poor brother who has made thee a noble Baroness.” + +“Ah, good father, pardon my fright and confusion,” Christina tried to +murmur, but at that moment a sudden glow and glare of light broke out on +the eastern rock, illuminating the fast darkening little church with a +flickering glare, that made her start in terror as if the fires of heaven +were threatening this stolen marriage; but the friar and Eberhard both +exclaimed, “The Needfire alight already!” And she recollected how often +she had seen these bonfires on Midsummer night shining red on every hill +around Ulm. Loud shouts were greeting the uprising flame, and the people +gathering thicker and thicker on the slope. The friar undid the door to +hasten out into the throng, and Eberhard said he had left his spurs and +belt in the hermit’s cell, and must return thither, after which he would +walk home with his bride, moving at the same time towards the stair, and +thereby causing a sudden scuffle and fall. “So, master hermit,” quoth +Eberhard, as the old man picked himself up, looking horribly frightened; +“that’s your hermit’s abstraction, is it? No whining, old man, I am not +going to hurt thee, so thou canst hold thy tongue. Otherwise I will +smoke thee out of thy hole like a wild cat! What, thou aiding me with my +belt, my lovely one? Thanks; the snap goes too hard for thy little +hands. Now, then, the fire will light us gaily down the mountain side.” + +But it soon appeared that to depart was impossible, unless by forcing a +way through the busy throng in the full red glare of the firelight, and +they were forced to pause at the opening of the hermit’s cave, Christina +leaning on her husband’s arm, and a fold of his mantle drawn round her to +guard her from the night-breeze of the mountain, as they waited for a +quiet space in which to depart unnoticed. It was a strange, wild scene! +The fire was on a bare, flat rock, which probably had been yearly so +employed ever since the Kelts had brought from the East the rite that +they had handed on to the Swabians—the Beltane fire, whose like was +blazing everywhere in the Alps, in the Hartz, nay, even in England, +Scotland, and on the granite points of Ireland. Heaped up for many +previous days with faggots from the forest, then apparently +inexhaustible, the fire roared and crackled, and rose high, red and +smoky, into the air, paling the moon, and obscuring the stars. Round it, +completely hiding the bonfire itself, were hosts of dark figures swarming +to approach it—all with a purpose. All held old shoes or superannuated +garments in their hands to feed the flame; for it was esteemed needful +that every villager should contribute something from his house—once, no +doubt, as an offering to Bel, but now as a mere unmeaning observance. +And shrieks of merriment followed the contribution of each too well-known +article of rubbish that had been in reserve for the Needfire! Girls and +boys had nuts to throw in, in pairs, to judge by their bounces of future +chances of matrimony. Then came a shouting, tittering, and falling back, +as an old boor came forward like a priest with something heavy and +ghastly in his arms, which was thrown on with a tremendous shout, +darkened the glow for a moment, then hissed, cracked, and emitted a +horrible odour. + +It was a horse’s head, the right owner of which had been carefully kept +for the occasion, though long past work. Christina shuddered, and felt +as if she had fallen upon a Pagan ceremony; as indeed was true enough, +only that the Adlersteiners attached no meaning to the performance, +except a vague notion of securing good luck. + +With the same idea the faggots were pulled down, and arranged so as to +form a sort of lane of fire. Young men rushed along it, and then bounded +over the diminished pile, amid loud shouts of laughter and either +admiration or derision; and, in the meantime, a variety of odd, recusant +noises, grunts, squeaks, and lowings proceeding from the darkness were +explained to the startled little bride by her husband to come from all +the cattle of the mountain farms around, who were to have their weal +secured by being driven through the Needfire. + +It may well be imagined that the animals were less convinced of the +necessity of this performance than their masters. Wonderful was the +clatter and confusion, horrible the uproar raised behind to make the poor +things proceed at all, desperate the shout when some half-frantic +creature kicked or attempted a charge wild the glee when a persecuted +goat or sheep took heart of grace, and flashed for one moment between the +crackling, flaring, smoking walls. When one cow or sheep off a farm +went, all the others were pretty sure to follow it, and the owner had +then only to be on the watch at the other end to turn them back, with +their flame-dazzled eyes, from going unawares down the precipice, a fate +from which the passing through the fire was evidently not supposed to +ensure them. The swine, those special German delights, were of course +the most refractory of all. Some, by dint of being pulled away from the +lane of fire, were induced to rush through it; but about half-way they +generally made a bolt, either sidelong through the flaming fence or +backwards among the legs of their persecutors, who were upset amid loud +imprecations. One huge, old, lean, high-backed sow, with a large family, +truly feminine in her want of presence of mind, actually charged into the +midst of the bonfire itself, scattering it to the right and left with her +snout, and emitting so horrible a smell of singed bacon, that it might +almost be feared that some of her progeny were anticipating the invention +of Chinese roasting-pigs. However, their proprietor, Jobst, counted them +out all safe on the other side, and there only resulted some sighs and +lamentations among the seniors, such as Hatto and Ursel, that it boded +ill to have the Needfire trodden out by an old sow. + +All the castle live-stock were undergoing the same ceremony. Eberhard +concerned himself little about the vagaries of the sheep and pigs, and +only laughed a little as the great black goat, who had seen several +Midsummer nights, and stood on his guard, made a sudden short run and +butted down old Hatto, then skipped off like a chamois into the darkness, +unheeding, the old rogue, the whispers that connected his unlucky hue +with the doings of the Walpurgisnacht. But when it came to the horses, +Eberhard could not well endure the sight of the endeavours to force them, +snorting, rearing, and struggling, through anything so abhorrent to them +as the hedge of fire. + +The Schneiderlein, with all the force of his powerful arm, had hold of +Eberhard’s own young white mare, who, with ears turned back, nostrils +dilated, and wild eyes, her fore-feet firmly planted wide apart, was +using her whole strength for resistance; and, when a heavy blow fell on +her, only plunged backwards, and kicked without advancing. It was more +than Eberhard could endure, and Christina’s impulse was to murmur, “O do +not let him do it;” but this he scarcely heard, as he exclaimed, “Wait +for me here!” and, as he stepped forward, sent his voice before him, +forbidding all blows to the mare. + +The creature’s extreme terror ceased at once upon hearing his voice, and +there was an instant relaxation of all violence of resistance as he came +up to her, took her halter from the Schneiderlein, patted her glossy +neck, and spoke to her. But the tumult of warning voices around him +assured him that it would be a fatal thing to spare the steed the passage +through the fire, and he strove by encouragements and caresses with voice +and hand to get her forward, leading her himself; but the poor beast +trembled so violently, and, though making a few steps forward, stopped +again in such exceeding horror of the flame, that Eberhard had not the +heart to compel her, turned her head away, and assured her that she +should not be further tormented. + +“The gracious lordship is wrong,” said public opinion, by the voice of +old Bauer Ulrich, the sacrificer of the horse’s head. “Heaven forfend +that evil befall him and that mare in the course of the year.” + +And the buzz of voices concurred in telling of the recusant pigs who had +never developed into sausages, the sheep who had only escaped to be eaten +by wolves, the mule whose bones had been found at the bottom of an abyss. + +Old Ursel was seriously concerned, and would have laid hold on her young +master to remonstrate, but a fresh notion had arisen—Would the gracious +Freiherr set a-rolling the wheel, which was already being lighted in the +fire, and was to conclude the festivities by being propelled down the +hill—figuring, only that no one present knew it, the sun’s declension +from his solstitial height? Eberhard made no objection; and Christina, +in her shelter by the cave, felt no little dismay at being left alone +there, and moreover had a strange, weird feeling at the wild, uncanny +ceremony he was engaged in, not knowing indeed that it was sun-worship, +but afraid that it could be no other than unholy sorcery. + +The wheel, flaring or reddening in all its spokes, was raised from the +bonfire, and was driven down the smoothest piece of green sward, which +formed an inclined plane towards the stream. If its course was smooth, +and it only became extinguished by leaping into the water, the village +would flourish; and prosperity above all was expected if it should spring +over the narrow channel, and attempt to run up the other side. Such +things had happened in the days of the good Freiherren Ebbo and Friedel, +though the wheel had never gone right since the present baron had been +excommunicated; but his heir having been twice seen at mass in this last +month great hopes were founded upon him. + +There was a shout to clear the slope. Eberhard, in great earnest and +some anxiety, accepted the gauntlet that he was offered to protect his +hand, steadied the wheel therewith, and, with a vigorous impulse from +hand and foot, sent it bounding down the slope, among loud cries and a +general scattering of the idlers who had crowded full into the very path +of the fiery circle, which flamed up brilliantly for the moment as it met +the current of air. But either there was an obstacle in the way, or the +young Baron’s push had not been quite straight: the wheel suddenly +swerved aside, its course swerved to the right, maugre all the +objurgations addressed to it as if it had been a living thing, and the +next moment it had disappeared, all but a smoky, smouldering spot of red, +that told where it lay, charring and smoking on its side, without having +fulfilled a quarter of its course. + +People drew off gravely and silently, and Eberhard himself was strangely +discomfited when he came back to the hermitage, and, wrapping Christina +in his cloak, prepared to return, so soon as the glare of the fire should +have faded from his eyesight enough to make it safe to tread so +precipitous a path. He had indeed this day made a dangerous venture, and +both he and Christina could not but feel disheartened by the issue of all +the omens of the year, the more because she had a vague sense of wrong in +consulting or trusting them. It seemed to her all one frightened, +uncomprehended dream ever since her father had left her in the chapel; +and, though conscious of her inability to have prevented her marriage, +yet she blamed herself, felt despairing as she thought of the future, +and, above all, dreaded the Baron and the Baroness and their anger. +Eberhard, after his first few words, was silent, and seemed solely +absorbed in leading her safely along the rocky path, sometimes lifting +her when he thought her in danger of stumbling. It was one of the +lightest, shortest nights of the year, and a young moon added to the +brightness in open places, while in others it made the rocks and stones +cast strange elvish shadows. The distance was not entirely lost; other +Beltane fires could be seen, like beacons, on every hill, and the few +lights in the castle shone out like red fiery eyes in its heavy dark pile +of building. + +Before entering, Eberhard paused, pulled off his own wedding-ring, and +put it into his bosom, and taking his bride’s hand in his, did the same +for her, and bade her keep the ring till they could wear them openly. + +“Alas! then,” said Christina, “you would have this secret?” + +“Unless I would have to seek thee down the oubliette, my little one,” +said Eberhard “or, what might even be worse, see thee burnt on the +hillside for bewitching me with thine arts! No, indeed, my darling. +Were it only my father, I could make him love thee; but my mother—I could +not trust her where she thought the honour of our house concerned. It +shall not be for long. Thou know’st we are to make peace with the +Kaiser, and then will I get me employment among Kürfurst Albrecht’s +companies of troops, and then shalt thou prank it as my Lady Freiherrinn, +and teach me the ways of cities.” + +“Alas! I fear me it has been a great sin!” sighed the poor little wife. + +“For thee—thou couldst not help it,” said Eberhard; “for me—who knows how +many deadly ones it may hinder? Cheer up, little one; no one can harm +thee while the secret is kept.” + +Poor Christina had no choice but submission; but it was a sorry bridal +evening, to enter her husband’s home in shrinking terror; with the threat +of the oubliette before her, and with a sense of shame and deception +hanging upon her, making the wonted scowl of the old baroness cut her +both with remorse and dread. + +She did indeed sit beside her bridegroom at the supper, but how little +like a bride! even though he pushed the salt-cellar, as if by accident, +below her place. She thought of her myrtle, tended in vain at home by +Barbara Schmidt; she thought of Ulm courtships, and how all ought to have +been; the solemn embassage to her uncle, the stately negotiations; the +troth plight before the circle of ceremonious kindred and merry maidens, +of whom she had often been one—the subsequent attentions of the betrothed +on all festival days, the piles of linen and all plenishings accumulated +since babyhood, and all reviewed and laid out for general admiration (Ah! +poor Aunt Johanna still spinning away to add to the many webs in her +walnut presses!)—then the grand procession to fetch home the bride, the +splendid festival with the musicians, dishes, and guest-tables to the +utmost limit that was allowed by the city laws, and the bride’s hair so +joyously covered by her matron’s curch amid the merriment of her +companion maidens. + +Poor child! After she had crept away to her own room, glad that her +father was not yet returned, she wept bitterly over the wrong that she +felt she had done to the kind uncle and aunt, who must now look in vain +for their little Christina, and would think her lost to them, and to all +else that was good. At least she had had the Church’s blessing—but that, +strange to say, was regarded, in burgher life before the Reformation, as +rather the ornament of a noble marriage than as essential to the civil +contract; and a marriage by a priest was regarded by the citizens rather +as a means of eluding the need of obtaining the parent’s consent, than as +a more regular and devout manner of wedding. However, Christina felt +this the one drop of peace. The blessings and prayers were warm at her +heart, and gave her hope. And as to drops of joy, of them there was no +lack, for had not she now a right to love Eberhard with all her heart and +conscience, and was not it a wonderful love on his part that had made him +stoop to the little white-faced burgher maid, despised even by her own +father? O better far to wear the maiden’s uncovered head for him than +the myrtle wreath for any one else! + + + + +CHAPTER VII +THE SCHNEIDERLEIN’S RETURN + + +THE poor little unowned bride had more to undergo than her imagination +had conceived at the first moment. + +When she heard that the marriage was to be a secret, she had not +understood that Eberhard was by no means disposed to observe much more +caution than mere silence. A rough, though kindly man, he did not +thoroughly comprehend the shame and confusion that he was bringing upon +her by departing from his former demeanour. He knew that, so enormous +was the distance then supposed to exist between the noble and the +burgher, there was no chance of any one dreaming of the true state of the +case, and that as long as Christina was not taken for his wife, there was +no personal danger for her from his mother, who—so lax were the morals of +the German nobility with regard to all of inferior rank—would tolerate +her with complacency as his favourite toy; and he was taken by surprise +at the agony of grief and shame with which she slowly comprehended his +assurance that she had nothing to fear. + +There was no help for it. The oubliette would probably be the portion of +the low-born girl who had interfered with the sixteen quarterings of the +Adlerstein shield, and poor Christina never stepped across its trap-door +without a shudder lest it should open beneath her. And her father would +probably have been hung from the highest tower, in spite of his shrewd +care to be aware of nothing. Christina consoled herself with the hope +that he knew all the time why he had been sent out of the way, for, with +a broad grin that had made her blush painfully, he had said he knew she +would be well taken care of, and that he hoped she was not breaking her +heart for want of an escort. She tried to extort Eberhard’s permission +to let him at least know how it was; but Eberhard laughed, saying he +believed the old fox knew just as much as he chose; and, in effect, +Sorel, though now and then gratifying his daughter’s scruples, by serving +as a shield to her meetings with the young Baron, never allowed himself +to hear a hint of the true state of affairs. + +Eberhard’s love and reverence were undiminished, and the time spent with +him would have been perfectly happy could she ever have divested herself +of anxiety and alarm; but the periods of his absence from the castle were +very terrible to her, for the other women of the household, quick to +perceive that she no longer repelled him, had lost that awe that had +hitherto kept them at a distance from her, and treated her with a +familiarity, sometimes coarse, sometimes spiteful, always hateful and +degrading. Even old Ursel had become half-pitying, half-patronizing; and +the old Baroness, though not molesting her, took not the slightest notice +of her. + +This state of things lasted much longer than there had been reason to +expect at the time of the marriage. The two Freiherren then intended to +set out in a very short time to make their long talked-of submission to +the Emperor at Ratisbon; but, partly from their German tardiness of +movement, partly from the obstinate delays interposed by the proud old +Freiherrinn, who was as averse as ever to the measure, partly from +reports that the Court was not yet arrived at Ratisbon, the expedition +was again and again deferred, and did not actually take place till +September was far advanced. + +Poor Christina would have given worlds to go with them, and even +entreated to be sent to Ulm with an avowal of her marriage to her uncle +and aunt, but of this Eberhard would not hear. He said the Ulmers would +thus gain an hostage, and hamper his movements; and, if her wedding was +not to be confessed—poor child!—she could better bear to remain where she +was than to face Hausfrau Johanna. Eberhard was fully determined to +enrol himself in some troop, either Imperial, or, if not, among the Free +Companies, among whom men of rank were often found, and he would then +fetch or send for his wife and avow her openly, so soon as she should be +out of his mother’s reach. He longed to leave her father at home, to be +some protection to her, but Hugh Sorel was so much the most intelligent +and skilful of the retainers as to be absolutely indispensable to the +party—he was their only scribe; and moreover his new suit of buff +rendered him a creditable member of a troop that had been very hard to +equip. It numbered about ten men-at-arms, only three being left at home +to garrison the castle—namely, Hatto, who was too old to take; Hans, who +had been hopelessly lame and deformed since the old Baron had knocked him +off a cliff in a passion; and Squinting Mätz, a runaway servant, who had +murdered his master, the mayor of Strasburg, and might be caught and put +to death if any one recognized him. If needful the villagers could +always be called in to defend the castle: but of this there was little or +no danger—the Eagle’s Steps were defence enough in themselves, and the +party were not likely to be absent more than a week or ten days—a +grievous length of time, poor Christina thought, as she stood straining +her eyes on the top of the watch-tower, to watch them as far as possible +along the plain. Her heart was very sad, and the omen of the burning +wheel so continually haunted her that even in her sleep that night she +saw its brief course repeated, beheld its rapid fall and extinction, and +then tracked the course of the sparks that darted from it, one rising and +gleaming high in air till it shone like a star, another pursuing a fitful +and irregular, but still bright course amid the dry grass on the +hillside, just as she had indeed watched some of the sparks on that +night, minding her of the words of the Allhallow-tide legend: “_Fulgebunt +justi et tanquam scintillæ in arundinete discurrent_”—a sentence which +remained with her when awake, and led her to seek it out in her Latin +Bible in the morning. + +Reluctantly had she gone down to the noontide meal, feeling, though her +husband and father were far less of guardians than they should have been, +yet that there was absolute rest, peace, and protection in their presence +compared with what it was to be alone with Freiherrinn Kunigunde and her +rude women without them. A few sneers on her daintiness and uselessness +had led her to make an offer of assisting in the grand chopping of +sausage meat and preparation of winter stores, and she had been answered +with contempt that my young lord would not have her soil her delicate +hands, when one of the maids who had been sent to fetch beer from the +cellar came back with startled looks, and the exclamation, “There is the +Schneiderlein riding up the Eagle’s Ladder upon Freiherr Ebbo’s white +mare!” + +All the women sprang up together, and rushed to the window, whence they +could indeed recognize both man and horse; and presently it became plain +that both were stained with blood, weary, and spent; indeed, nothing but +extreme exhaustion would have induced the man-at-arms to trust the tired, +stumbling horse up such a perilous path. + +Loud were the exclamations, “Ah! no good could come of not leading that +mare through the Johannisfeuer.” + +“This shameful expedition! Only harm could befall. This is thy doing, +thou mincing city-girl.” + +“All was certain to go wrong when a pale mist widow came into the place.” + +The angry and dismayed cries all blended themselves in confusion in the +ears of the only silent woman present; the only one that sounded +distinctly on her brain was that of the last speaker, “A pale, mist +widow,” as, holding herself a little in the rear of the struggling, +jostling little mob of women, who hardly made way even for their +acknowledged lady, she followed with failing limbs the universal rush to +the entrance as soon as man and horse had mounted the slope and were lost +sight of. + +A few moments more, and the throng of expectants was at the foot of the +hall steps, just as the lanzknecht reached the arched entrance. His +comrade Hans took his bridle, and almost lifted him from his horse; he +reeled and stumbled as, pale, battered, and bleeding, he tried to advance +to Freiherinn Kunigunde, and, in answer to her hasty interrogation, +faltered out, “Ill news, gracious lady. We have been set upon by the +accursed Schlangenwaldern, and I am the only living man left.” + +Christina scarce heard even these last words; senses and powers alike +failed her, and she sank back on the stone steps in a deathlike swoon. + +When she came to herself she was lying on her bed, Ursel and Else, +another of the women, busy over her, and Ursel’s voice was saying, “Ah, +she is coming round. Look up, sweet lady, and fear not. You are our +gracious Lady Baroness.” + +“Is he here? O, has he said so? O, let me see him—Sir Eberhard,” +faintly cried Christina with sobbing breath. + +“Ah, no, no,” said the old woman; “but see here,” and she lifted up +Christina’s powerless, bloodless hand, and showed her the ring on the +finger. Her bosom had been evidently searched when her dress was +loosened in her swoon, and her ring found and put in its place. “There, +you can hold up your head with the best of them; he took care of that—my +dear young Freiherr, the boy that I nursed,” and the old woman’s burst of +tears brought back the truth to Christina’s reviving senses. + +“Oh, tell me,” she said, trying to raise herself, “was it indeed so? O +say it was not as he said!” + +“Ah, woe’s me, woe’s me, that it was even so,” lamented Ursel; “but oh, +be still, look not so wild, dear lady. The dear, true-hearted young +lord, he spent his last breath in owning you for his true lady, and in +bidding us cherish you and our young baron that is to be. And the +gracious lady below—she owns you; there is no fear of her now; so vex not +yourself, dearest, most gracious lady.” + +Christina did not break out into the wailing and weeping that the old +nurse expected; she was still far too much stunned and overwhelmed, and +she entreated to be told all, lying still, but gazing at Ursel with +piteous bewildered eyes. Ursel and Else helping one another out, tried +to tell her, but they were much confused; all they knew was that the +party had been surprised at night in a village hostel by the +Schlangenwaldern, and all slain, though the young Baron had lived long +enough to charge the Schneiderlein with his commendation of his wife to +his mother; but all particulars had been lost in the general confusion. + +“Oh, let me see the Schneiderlein,” implored Christina, by this time able +to rise and cross the room to the large carved chair; and Ursel +immediately turned to her underling, saying, “Tell the Schneiderlein that +the gracious Lady Baroness desires his presence.” + +Else’s wooden shoes clattered down stairs, but the next moment she +returned. “He cannot come; he is quite spent, and he will let no one +touch his arm till Ursel can come, not even to get off his doublet.” + +“I will go to him,” said Christina, and, revived by the sense of being +wanted, she moved at once to the turret, where she kept some rag and some +ointment, which she had found needful in the latter stages of +Ermentrude’s illness—indeed, household surgery was a part of regular +female education, and Christina had had plenty of practice in helping her +charitable aunt, so that the superiority of her skill to that of Ursel +had long been avowed in the castle. Ursel made no objection further than +to look for something that could be at once converted into a widow’s +veil—being in the midst of her grief quite alive to the need that no +matronly badge should be omitted—but nothing came to hand in time, and +Christina was descending the stairs, on her way to the kitchen, where she +found the fugitive man-at-arms seated on a rough settle, his head and +wounded arm resting on the table, while groans of pain, weariness, and +impatience were interspersed with imprecations on the stupid awkward +girls who surrounded him. + +Pity and the instinct of affording relief must needs take the precedence +even of the desire to hear of her husband’s fate; and, as the girls +hastily whispered, “Here she is,” and the lanzknecht hastily tried to +gather himself up, and rise with tokens of respect; she bade him remain +still, and let her see what she could do for him. In fact, she at once +perceived that he was in no condition to give a coherent account of +anything, he was so completely worn out, and in so much suffering. She +bade at once that some water should be heated, and some of the broth of +the dinner set on the fire; then with the shears at her girdle, and her +soft, light fingers, she removed the torn strip of cloth that had been +wound round the arm, and cut away the sleeve, showing the arm not broken, +but gashed at the shoulder, and thence the whole length grazed and +wounded by the descent of the sword down to the wrist. So tender was her +touch, that he scarcely winced or moaned under her hand; and, when she +proceeded, with Ursel’s help, to bathe the wound with the warm water, the +relief was such that the wearied man absolutely slumbered during the +process, which Christina protracted on that very account. She then +dressed and bandaged the arm, and proceeded to skim—as no one else in the +castle would do—the basin of soup, with which she then fed her patient as +he leant back in the corner of the settle, at first in the same +somnolent, half-conscious state in which he had been ever since the +relief from the severe pain; but after a few spoonfuls the light and life +came back to his eye, and he broke out, “Thanks, thanks, gracious lady! +This is the Lady Baroness for me! My young lord was the only wise man! +Thanks, lady; now am I my own man again. It had been long ere the old +Freiherrinn had done so much for me! I am your man, lady, for life or +death!” And, before she knew what he was about, the gigantic +Schneiderlein had slid down on his knees, seized her hand, and kissed +it—the first act of homage to her rank, but most startling and +distressing to her. “Nay,” she faltered, “prithee do not; thou must +rest. Only if—if thou canst only tell me if he, my own dear lord, sent +me any greeting, I would wait to hear the rest till thou hast slept.” + +“Ah! the dog of Schlangenwald!” was the first answer; then, as he +continued, “You see, lady, we had ridden merrily as far as Jacob Müller’s +hostel, the traitor,” it became plain that he meant to begin at the +beginning. She allowed Ursel to seat her on the bench opposite to his +settle, and, leaning forward, heard his narrative like one in a dream. +There, the Schneiderlein proceeded to say, they put up for the night, +entirely unsuspicious of evil; Jacob Müller, who was known to himself, as +well as to Sorel and to the others, assuring them that the way was clear +to Ratisbon, and that he heard the Emperor was most favourably disposed +to any noble who would tender his allegiance. Jacob’s liquors were +brought out, and were still in course of being enjoyed, when the house +was suddenly surrounded by an overpowering number of the retainers of +Schlangenwald, with their Count himself at their head. He had been +evidently resolved to prevent the timely submission of the enemies of his +race, and suddenly presenting himself before the elder Baron, had +challenged him to instantaneous battle, claiming credit to himself for +not having surprised them when asleep. The disadvantage had been +scarcely less than if this had been the case, for the Adlersteinern were +all half-intoxicated, and far inferior in numbers—at least, on the +showing of the Schneiderlein—and a desperate fight had ended by his being +flung aside in a corner, bound fast by the ankles and wrists, the only +living prisoner, except his young lord, who, having several terrible +wounds, the worst in his chest, was left unbound. + +Both lay helpless, untended, and silent, while the revel that had been so +fatal to them was renewed by their captors, who finally all sunk into a +heavy sleep. The torches were not all spent, and the moonlight shone +into the room, when the Schneiderlein, desperate from the agony caused by +the ligature round his wounded arm, sat up and looked about him. A knife +thrown aside by one of the drunkards lay near enough to be grasped by his +bound hands, and he had just reached it when Sir Eberhard made a sign to +him to put it into his hand, and therewith contrived to cut the rope +round both hands and feet—then pointed to the door. + +There was nothing to hinder an escape; the men slept the sleep of the +drunken; but the Schneiderlein, with the rough fidelity of a retainer, +would have lingered with a hope of saving his master. But Eberhard shook +his head, and signed again to escape; then, making him bend down close to +him, he used all his remaining power to whisper, as he pressed his sword +into the retainer’s hand,— + +“Go home; tell my mother—all the world—that Christina Sorel is my wife, +wedded on the Friedmund Wake by Friar Peter of Offingen, and if she +should bear a child, he is my true and lawful heir. My sword for him—my +love to her. And if my mother would not be haunted by me, let her take +care of her.” + +These words were spoken with extreme difficulty, for the nature of the +wound made utterance nearly impossible, and each broken sentence cost a +terrible effusion of blood. The final words brought on so choking and +fatal a gush that, said the Schneiderlein, “he fell back as I tried to +hold him up, and I saw that it was all at an end, and a kind and friendly +master and lord gone from me. I laid him down, and put his cross on his +breast that I had seen him kissing many a time that evening; and I +crossed his hands, and wiped the blood from them and his face. And, +lady, he had put on his ring; I trust the robber caitiff’s may have left +it to him in his grave. And so I came forth, walking soft, and opening +the door in no small dread, not of the snoring swine, but of the dogs +without. But happily they were still, and even by the door I saw all our +poor fellows stark and stiff.” + +“My father?” asked Christina. + +“Ay! with his head cleft open by the Graf himself. He died like a true +soldier, lady, and we have lost the best head among us in him. Well, the +knave that should have watched the horses was as drunken as the rest of +them, and I made a shift to put the bridle on the white mare and ride +off.” + +Such was the narrative of the Schneiderlein, and all that was left to +Christina was the picture of her husband’s dying effort to guard her, and +the haunting fancy of those long hours of speechless agony on the floor +of the hostel, and how direful must have been his fears for her. Sad and +overcome, yet not sinking entirely while any work of comfort remained, +her heart yearned over her companion in misfortune, the mother who had +lost both husband and son; and all her fears of the dread Freiherrinn +could not prevent her from bending her steps, trembling and palpitating +as she was, towards the hall, to try whether the daughter-in-law’s right +might be vouchsafed to her, of weeping with the elder sufferer. + +The Freiherrinn sat by the chimney, rocking herself to and fro, and +holding consultation with Hatto. She started as she saw Christina +approaching, and made a gesture of repulsion; but, with the feeling of +being past all terror in this desolate moment, Christina stepped nearer, +knelt, and, clasping her hands, said, “Your pardon, lady.” + +“Pardon!” returned the harsh voice, even harsher for very grief, “thou +hast naught to fear, girl. As things stand, thou canst not have thy +deserts. Dost hear?” + +“Ah, lady, it was not such pardon that I meant. If you would let me be a +daughter to you.” + +“A daughter! A wood-carver’s girl to be a daughter of Adlerstein!” half +laughed the grim Baroness. “Come here, wench,” and Christina underwent a +series of sharp searching questions on the evidences of her marriage. + +“So,” ended the old lady, “since better may not be, we must own thee for +the nonce. Hark ye all, this is the Frau Freiherrinn, Freiherr +Eberhard’s widow, to be honoured as such,” she added, raising her voice. +“There, girl, thou hast what thou didst strive for. Is not that enough?” + +“Alas! lady,” said Christina, her eyes swimming in tears, “I would fain +have striven to be a comforter, or to weep together.” + +“What! to bewitch me as thou didst my poor son and daughter, and +well-nigh my lord himself! Girl! Girl! Thou know’st I cannot burn thee +now; but away with thee; try not my patience too far.” + +And, more desolate than ever, the crushed and broken-hearted Christina, a +widow before she had been owned a wife, returned to the room that was now +so full of memories as to be even more home than Master Gottfried’s +gallery at Ulm. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII +PASSING THE OUBLIETTE + + +WHO can describe the dreariness of being snowed-up all the winter with +such a mother-in-law as Freiherrinn Kunigunde? + +Yet it was well that the snow came early, for it was the best defence of +the lonely castle from any attack on the part of the Schlangenwaldern, +the Swabian League, or the next heir, Freiherr Kasimir von Adlerstein +Wildschloss. The elder Baroness had, at least, the merit of a stout +heart, and, even with her sadly-reduced garrison, feared none of them. +She had been brought up in the faith that Adlerstein was impregnable, and +so she still believed; and, if the disaster that had cut off her husband +and son was to happen at all, she was glad that it had befallen before +the homage had been paid. Probably the Schlangenwald Count knew how +tough a morsel the castle was like to prove, and Wildschloss was serving +at a distance, for nothing was heard of either during the short interval +while the roads were still open. During this time an attempt had been +made through Father Norbert to ascertain what had become of the corpses +of the two Barons and their followers, and it had appeared that the Count +had carried them all off from the inn, no doubt to adorn his castle with +their limbs, or to present them to the Emperor in evidence of his zeal +for order. The old Baron could not indeed have been buried in +consecrated ground, nor have masses said for him; but for the weal of her +son’s soul Dame Kunigunde gave some of her few ornaments, and Christina +added her gold earrings, and all her scanty purse, that both her husband +and father might be joined in the prayers of the Church—trying with all +her might to put confidence in Hugh Sorel’s Loretto relic, and the +Indulgence he had bought, and trusting with more consolatory thoughts to +the ever stronger dawnings of good she had watched in her own Eberhard. + +She had some consoling intercourse with the priest while all this was +pending; but throughout the winter she was entirely cut off from every +creature save the inmates of the castle, where, as far as the old lady +was concerned, she only existed on sufferance, and all her meekness and +gentleness could not win for her more than the barest toleration. + +That Eberhard had for a few hours survived his father, and that thus the +Freiherrinn Christina was as much the Dowager Baroness as Kunigunde +herself, was often insisted on in the kitchen by Ursel, Hatto, and the +Schneiderlein, whom Christina had unconsciously rendered her most devoted +servant, not only by her daily care of his wound, but by her kind +courteous words, and by her giving him his proper name of Heinz, dropping +the absurd _nom de guerre_ of the Schneiderlein, or little tailor, which +had been originally conferred on him in allusion to the valiant +Tailorling who boasted of having killed seven flies at a blow, and had +been carried on chiefly because of the contradiction between such a title +and his huge brawny strength and fierce courage. Poor Eberhard, with his +undaunted bravery and free reckless good-nature, a ruffian far more by +education than by nature, had been much loved by his followers. His +widow would have reaped the benefit of that affection even if her +exceeding sweetness had not gained it on her own account; and this giant +was completely gained over to her, when, amid all her sorrow and +feebleness, she never failed to minister to his sufferings to the utmost, +while her questions about his original home, and revival of the name of +his childhood, softened him, and awoke in him better feelings. He would +have died to serve her, and she might have headed an opposition party in +the castle, had she not been quite indifferent to all save her grief; +and, except by sitting above the salt at the empty table, she laid no +claim to any honours or authority, and was more seldom than ever seen +beyond what was now called her own room. + +At last, when for the second time she was seeing the snow wreaths +dwindle, and the drops shine forth in moisture again, while the mountain +paths were set free by the might of the springtide sun, she spoke almost +for the first time with authority, as she desired Heinz to saddle her +mule, and escort her to join in the Easter mass at the Blessed +Friedmund’s Chapel. Ursel heaped up objections; but so urgent was +Christina for confession and for mass, that the old woman had not the +heart to stop her by a warning to the elder Baroness, and took the +alternative of accompanying her. It was a glorious sparkling Easter Day, +lovely blue sky above, herbage and flowers glistening below, snow +dazzling in the hollows, peasants assembling in holiday garb, and all +rejoicing. Even the lonely widow, in her heavy veil and black mufflings, +took hope back to her heart, and smiled when at the church door a little +child came timidly up to her with a madder-tinted Easter egg—a gift once +again like the happy home customs of Ulm. She gave the child a kiss—she +had nothing else to give, but the sweet face sent it away strangely glad. + +The festival mass in all its exultation was not fully over, when anxious +faces began to be seen at the door, and whisperings went round and many +passed out. Nobody at Adlerstein was particular about silence in church, +and, when the service was not in progress, voices were not even lowered, +and, after many attempts on the part of the Schneiderlein to attract the +attention of his mistress, his voice immediately succeeded the _Ite missa +est_, “Gracious lady, we must begone. Your mule is ready. There is a +party at the Debateable Ford, whether Schlangenwald or Wildschloss we +know not yet, but either way you must be the first thing placed in +safety.” + +Christina turned deadly pale. She had long been ready to welcome death +as a peaceful friend; but, sheltered as her girlhood had been in the +quiet city, she had never been brought in contact with warfare, and her +nervous, timid temperament made the thought most appalling and frightful +to her, certain as she was that the old Baroness would resist to the +uttermost. Father Norbert saw her extreme terror, and, with the thought +that he might comfort and support her, perhaps mediate between the +contending parties, plead that it was holy-tide, and proclaim the peace +of the church, or at the worst protect the lady herself, he offered his +company; but, though she thanked him, it was as if she scarcely +understood his kindness, and a shudder passed over her whenever the +serfs, hastily summoned to augment the garrison, came hurrying down the +path, or turned aside into the more rugged and shorter descents. It was +strange, the good father thought, that so timorous and fragile a being +should have her lot cast amid these rugged places and scenes of violence, +with no one to give her the care and cherishing she so much required. + +Even when she crept up the castle stairs, she was met with an angry +rebuke, not so much for the peril she had incurred as for having taken +away the Schneiderlein, by far the most availing among the scanty remnant +of the retainers of Adlerstein. Attempting no answer, and not even +daring to ask from what quarter came the alarm, Christina made her way +out of the turmoil to that chamber of her own, the scene of so much fear +and sorrow, and yet of some share of peace and happiness. But from the +window, near the fast subsiding waters of the Debateable Ford, could +plainly be seen the small troop of warriors, of whom Jobst the Kohler had +brought immediate intelligence. The sun glistened on their armour, and a +banner floated gaily on the wind; but they were a fearful sight to the +inmates of the lonely castle. + +A stout heart was however Kunigunde’s best endowment; and, with the +steadiness and precision of a general, her commands rang out, as she +arranged and armed her garrison, perfectly resolved against any +submission, and confident in the strength of her castle; nay, not without +a hope of revenge either against Schlangenwald or Wildschloss, whom, as a +degenerate Adlerstein, she hated only less than the slayer of her husband +and son. + +The afternoon of Easter Day however passed away without any movement on +the part of the enemy, and it was not till the following day that they +could be seen struggling through the ford, and preparing to ascend the +mountain. Attacks had sometimes been disconcerted by posting men in the +most dangerous passes; but, in the lack of numbers, and of trustworthy +commanders, the Freiherrinn had judged it wiser to trust entirely to her +walls, and keep her whole force within them. + +The new comers could hardly have had any hostile intentions, for, though +well armed and accoutred, their numbers did not exceed twenty-five. The +banner borne at their head was an azure one, with a white eagle, and +their leader could be observed looking with amazement at the top of the +watch-tower, where the same eagle had that morning been hoisted for the +first time since the fall of the two Freiherren. + +So soon as the ascent had been made, the leader wound his horn, and, +before the echoes had died away among the hills, Hatto, acting as +seneschal, was demanding his purpose. + +“I am Kasimir von Adlerstein Wildschloss,” was the reply. “I have +hitherto been hindered by stress of weather from coming to take +possession of my inheritance. Admit me, that I may arrange with the +widowed Frau Freiherrinn as to her dower and residence.” + +“The widowed Frau Freiherrinn, born of Adlerstein,” returned Hatto, +“thanks the Freiherr von Adlerstein Wildschloss; but she holds the castle +as guardian to the present head of the family, the Freiherr von +Adlerstein.” + +“It is false, old man,” exclaimed the Wildschloss; “the Freiherr had no +other son.” + +“No,” said Hatto, “but Freiherr Eberhard hath left us twin heirs, our +young lords, for whom we hold this castle.” + +“This trifling will not serve!” sternly spoke the knight. “Eberhard von +Adlerstein died unmarried.” + +“Not so,” returned Hatto, “our gracious Frau Freiherrinn, the younger, +was wedded to him at the last Friedmund Wake, by the special blessing of +our good patron, who would not see our house extinct.” + +“I must see thy lady, old man,” said Sir Kasimir, impatiently, not in the +least crediting the story, and believing his cousin Kunigunde quite +capable of any measure that could preserve to her the rule in Schloss +Adlerstein, even to erecting some passing love affair of her son’s into a +marriage. And he hardly did her injustice, for she had never made any +inquiry beyond the castle into the validity of Christina’s espousals, nor +sought after the friar who had performed the ceremony. She consented to +an interview with the claimant of the inheritance, and descended to the +gateway for the purpose. The court was at its cleanest, the thawing snow +having newly washed away its impurities, and her proud figure, under her +black hood and veil, made an imposing appearance as she stood tall and +defiant in the archway. + +Sir Kasimir was a handsome man of about thirty, of partly Polish descent, +and endowed with Slavonic grace and courtesy, and he had likewise been +employed in negotiations with Burgundy, and had acquired much polish and +knowledge of the world. + +“Lady,” he said, “I regret to disturb and intrude on a mourning family, +but I am much amazed at the tidings I have heard; and I must pray of you +to confirm them.” + +“I thought they would confound you,” composedly replied Kunigunde. + +“And pardon me, lady, but the Diet is very nice in requiring full proofs. +I would be glad to learn what lady was chosen by my deceased cousin +Eberhard.” + +“The lady is Christina, daughter of his esquire, Hugh Sorel, of an +honourable family at Ulm.” + +“Ha! I know who and what Sorel was!” exclaimed Wildschloss. “Lady +cousin, thou wouldst not stain the shield of Adlerstein with owning aught +that cannot bear the examination of the Diet!” + +“Sir Kasimir,” said Kunigunde proudly, “had I known the truth ere my +son’s death, I had strangled the girl with mine own hands! But I learnt +it only by his dying confession; and, had she been a beggar’s child, she +was his wedded wife, and her babes are his lawful heirs.” + +“Knowest thou time—place—witnesses?” inquired Sir Kasimir. + +“The time, the Friedmund Wake; the place, the Friedmund Chapel,” replied +the Baroness. “Come hither, Schneiderlein. Tell the knight thy young +lord’s confession.” + +He bore emphatic testimony to poor Eberhard’s last words; but as to the +point of who had performed the ceremony, he knew not,—his mind had not +retained the name. + +“I must see the Frau herself,” said Wildschloss, feeling certain that +such a being as he expected in a daughter of the dissolute lanzknecht +Sorel would soon, by dexterous questioning, be made to expose the +futility of her pretensions so flagrantly that even Kunigunde could not +attempt to maintain them. + +For one moment Kunigunde hesitated, but suddenly a look of malignant +satisfaction crossed her face. She spoke a few words to Squinting Mätz, +and then replied that Sir Kasimir should be allowed to satisfy himself, +but that she could admit no one else into the castle; hers was a widow’s +household, the twins were only a few hours old, and she could not open +her gates to admit any person besides himself. + +So resolved on judging for himself was Adlerstein Wildschloss that all +this did not stagger him; for, even if he had believed more than he did +of the old lady’s story, there would have been no sense of intrusion or +impropriety in such a visit to the mother. Indeed, had Christina been +living in the civilized world, her chamber would have been hung with +black cloth, black velvet would have enveloped her up to the eyes, and +the blackest of cradles would have stood ready for her fatherless babe; +two steps, in honour of her baronial rank, would have led to her bed, and +a beaufet with the due baronial amount of gold and silver plate would +have held the comfits and caudle to be dispensed to all visitors. As it +was, the two steps built into the floor of the room, and the black hood +that Ursel tied over her young mistress’s head, were the only traces that +such etiquette had ever been heard of. + +But when Baron Kasimir had clanked up the turret stairs, each step +bringing to her many a memory of him who should have been there, and when +he had been led to the bedside, he was completely taken by surprise. + +Instead of the great, flat-faced, coarse comeliness of a German wench, +treated as a lady in order to deceive him, he saw a delicate, lily-like +face, white as ivory, and the soft, sweet brown eyes under their drooping +lashes, so full of innocence and sad though thankful content, that he +felt as if the inquiries he came to make were almost sacrilege. + +He had seen enough of the world to know that no agent in a clumsy +imposition would look like this pure white creature, with her arm +encircling the two little swaddled babes, whose red faces and bald heads +alone were allowed to appear above their mummy-like wrappings; and he +could only make an obeisance lower and infinitely more respectful than +that with which he had favoured the Baroness _née_ von Adlerstein, with a +few words of inquiry and apology. + +But Christina had her sons’ rights to defend now, and she had far more +spirit to do so than ever she had had in securing her own position, and a +delicate rose tint came into her cheek as she said in her soft voice, +“The Baroness tells me, that you, noble sir, would learn who wedded me to +my dear and blessed lord, Sir Eberhard. It was Friar Peter of the +Franciscan brotherhood of Offingen, an agent for selling indulgences. +Two of his lay brethren were present. My dear lord gave his own name and +mine in full after the holy rite; the friar promising his testimony if it +were needed. He is to be found, or at least heard of, at his own +cloister; and the hermit at the chapel likewise beheld a part of the +ceremony.” + +“Enough, enough, lady,” replied Sir Kasimir; “forgive me for having +forced the question upon you.” + +“Nay,” replied Christina, with her blush deepening, “it is but just and +due to us all;” and her soft eyes had a gleam of exultation, as she +looked at the two little mummies that made up the _us_—“I would have all +inquiries made in full.” + +“They shall be made, lady, as will be needful for the establishment of +your son’s right as a free Baron of the empire, but not with any doubt on +my part, or desire to controvert that right. I am fully convinced, and +only wish to serve you and my little cousins. Which of them is the head +of our family?” he added, looking at the two absolutely undistinguishable +little chrysalises, so exactly alike that Christina herself was obliged +to look for the black ribbon, on which a medal had been hung, round the +neck of the elder. Sir Kasimir put one knee to the ground as he kissed +the red cheek of the infant and the white hand of the mother. + +“Lady cousin,” he said to Kunigunde, who had stood by all this time with +an anxious, uneasy, scowling expression on her face, “I am satisfied. I +own this babe as the true Freiherr von Adlerstein, and far be it from me +to trouble his heritage. Rather point out the way in which I may serve +you and him. Shall I represent all to the Emperor, and obtain his +wardship, so as to be able to protect you from any attacks by the enemies +of the house?” + +“Thanks, sir,” returned the elder lady, severely, seeing Christina’s +gratified, imploring face. “The right line of Adlerstein can take care +of itself without greedy guardians appointed by usurpers. Our submission +has never been made, and the Emperor cannot dispose of our wardship.” + +And Kunigunde looked defiant, regarding herself and her grandson as quite +as good as the Emperor, and ready to blast her daughter-in-law with her +eyes for murmuring gratefully and wistfully, “Thanks, noble sir, thanks!” + +“Let me at least win a friendly right in my young cousins,” said Sir +Kasimir, the more drawn by pitying admiration towards their mother, as he +perceived more of the grandmother’s haughty repulsiveness and want of +comprehension of the dangers of her position. “They are not baptized? +Let me become their godfather.” + +Christina’s face was all joy and gratitude, and even the grandmother made +no objection; in fact, it was the babes’ only chance of a noble sponsor; +and Father Norbert, who had already been making ready for the baptism, +was sent for from the hall. Kunigunde, meantime, moved about restlessly, +went half-way down the stairs, and held council with some one there; +Ursel likewise, bustled about, and Sir Kasimir remained seated on the +chair that had been placed for him near Christina’s bed. + +She was able again to thank him, and add, “It may be that you will have +more cause than the lady grandmother thinks to remember your offer of +protection to my poor orphans. Their father and grandfather were, in +very deed, on their way to make submission.” + +“That is well known to me,” said Sir Kasimir. “Lady, I will do all in my +power for you. The Emperor shall hear the state of things; and, while no +violence is offered to travellers,” he added, lowering his tone, “I doubt +not he will wait for full submission till this young Baron be of age to +tender it.” + +“We are scarce in force to offer violence,” said Christina sighing. “I +have no power to withstand the Lady Baroness. I am like a stranger here; +but, oh! sir, if the Emperor and Diet will be patient and forbearing with +this desolate house, my babes, if they live, shall strive to requite +their mercy by loyalty. And the blessing of the widow and fatherless +will fall on you, most generous knight,” she added, fervently, holding +out her hand. + +“I would I could do more for you,” said the knight. “Ask, and all I can +do is at your service.” + +“Ah, sir,” cried Christina, her eyes brightening, “there is one most +inestimable service you could render me—to let my uncle, Master +Gottfried, the wood-carver of Ulm, know where I am, and of my state, and +of my children.” + +Sir Kasimir repeated the name. + +“Yes,” she said. “There was my home, there was I brought up by my dear +uncle and aunt, till my father bore me away to attend on the young lady +here. It is eighteen months since they had any tidings from her who was +as a daughter to them.” + +“I will see them myself,” said Kasimir; “I know the name. Carved not +Master Gottfried the stall-work at Augsburg?” + +“Yes, indeed! In chestnut leaves! And the Misereres all with fairy +tales!” exclaimed Christina. “Oh, sir, thanks indeed! Bear to the dear, +dear uncle and aunt their child’s duteous greetings, and tell them she +loves them with all her heart, and prays them to forgive her, and to pray +for her and her little ones! And,” she added, “my uncle may not have +learnt how his brother, my father, died by his lord’s side. Oh! pray +him, if ever he loved his little Christina, to have masses sung for my +father and my own dear lord.” + +As she promised, Ursel came to make the babes ready for their baptism, +and Sir Kasimir moved away towards the window. Ursel was looking uneasy +and dismayed, and, as she bent over her mistress, she whispered, “Lady, +the Schneiderlein sends you word that Mätz has called him to help in +removing the props of the door you wot of when _he_ yonder steps across +it. He would know if it be your will?” + +“The oubliette!” This was Frau Kunigunde’s usage of the relative who was +doing his best for the welfare of her grandsons! Christina’s whole +countenance looked so frozen with horror, that Ursel felt as if she had +killed her on the spot; but the next moment a flash of relief came over +the pale features, and the trembling lip commanded itself to say, “My +best thanks to good Heinz. Say to him that I forbid it. If he loves the +life of his master’s children, he will abstain! Tell him so. My +blessings on him if this knight leave the castle safe, Ursel.” And her +terrified earnest eyes impelled Ursel to hasten to do her bidding; but +whether it had been executed, there was no knowing, for almost +immediately the Freiherrinn and Father Norbert entered, and Ursel +returned with them. Nay, the message given, who could tell if Heinz +would be able to act upon it? In the ordinary condition of the castle, +he was indeed its most efficient inmate; Mätz did not approach him in +strength, Hans was a cripple, Hatto would be on the right side; but Jobst +the Kohler, and the other serfs who had been called in for the defence, +were more likely to hold with the elder than the younger lady. And Frau +Kunigunde herself, knowing well that the five-and-twenty men outside +would be incompetent to avenge their master, confident in her +narrow-minded, ignorant pride that no one could take Schloss Adlerstein, +and incapable of understanding the changes in society that were rendering +her isolated condition untenable, was certain to scout any representation +of the dire consequences that the crime would entail. Kasimir had no +near kindred, and private revenge was the only justice the Baroness +believed in; she only saw in her crime the satisfaction of an old feud, +and the union of the Wildschloss property with the parent stem. + +Seldom could such a christening have taken place as that of which +Christina’s bed-room was the scene—the mother scarcely able even to think +of the holy sacrament for the horror of knowing that the one sponsor was +already exulting in the speedy destruction of the other; and, poor little +feeble thing, rallying the last remnants of her severely-tried powers to +prevent the crime at the most terrible of risks. + +The elder babe received from his grandmother the hereditary name of +Eberhard, but Sir Kasimir looked at the mother inquiringly, ere he gave +the other to the priest. Christina had well-nigh said, “Oubliette,” but, +recalling herself in time, she feebly uttered the name she had longed +after from the moment she had known that two sons had been her Easter +gift, “Gottfried,” after her beloved uncle. But Kunigunde caught the +sound, and exclaimed, “No son of Adlerstein shall bear abase craftsman’s +name. Call him Rächer (the avenger);” and in the word there already rang +a note of victory and revenge that made Christina’s blood run cold. Sir +Kasimir marked her trouble. “The lady mother loves not the sound,” he +said, kindly. “Lady, have you any other wish? Then will I call him +Friedmund.” + +Christina had almost smiled. To her the omen was of the best. Baron +Friedmund had been the last common ancestor of the two branches of the +family, the patron saint was so called, his wake was her wedding-day, the +sound of the word imported peace, and the good Barons Ebbo and Friedel +had ever been linked together lovingly by popular memory. And so the +second little Baron received the name of Friedmund, and then the knight +of Wildschloss, perceiving, with consideration rare in a warrior, that +the mother looked worn out and feverish, at once prepared to kiss her +hand and take leave. + +“One more favour, Sir Knight,” she said, lifting up her head, while a +burning spot rose on either cheek. “I beg of you to take my two babes +down—yes, both, both, in your own arms, and show them to your men, owning +them as your kinsmen and godsons.” + +Sir Kasimir looked exceedingly amazed, as if he thought the lady’s senses +taking leave of her, and Dame Kunigunde broke out into declarations that +it was absurd, and she did not know what she was talking of; but she +repeated almost with passion, “Take them, take them, you know not how +much depends on it.” Ursel, with unusual readiness of wit, signed and +whispered that the young mother must be humoured, for fear of +consequences; till the knight, in a good-natured, confused way, submitted +to receive the two little bundles in his arms, while he gave place to +Kunigunde, who hastily stepped before him in a manner that made Christina +trust that her precaution would be effectual. + +The room was reeling round with her. The agony of those few minutes was +beyond all things unspeakable. What had seemed just before like a +certain way of saving the guest without real danger to her children, now +appeared instead the most certain destruction to all, and herself the +unnatural mother who had doomed her new-born babes for a stranger’s sake. +She could not even pray; she would have shrieked to have them brought +back, but her voice was dead within her, her tongue clave to the roof of +her mouth, ringings in her ears hindered her even from listening to the +descending steps. She lay as one dead, when ten minutes afterwards the +cry of one of her babes struck on her ear, and the next moment Ursel +stood beside her, laying them down close to her, and saying exultingly, +“Safe! safe out at the gate, and down the hillside, and my old lady ready +to gnaw off her hands for spite!” + + + + +CHAPTER IX +THE EAGLETS + + +CHRISTINA’S mental and bodily constitution had much similarity—apparently +most delicate, tender, and timid, yet capable of a vigour, health, and +endurance that withstood shocks that might have been fatal to many +apparently stronger persons. The events of that frightful Easter Monday +morning did indeed almost kill her; but the effects, though severe, were +not lasting; and by the time the last of Ermentrude’s snow-wreath had +vanished, she was sunning her babes at the window, happier than she had +ever thought to be—above all, in the possession of both the children. A +nurse had been captured for the little Baron from the village on the +hillside; but the woman had fretted, the child had pined, and had been +given back to his mother to save his life; and ever since both had +thriven perfectly under her sole care, so that there was very nearly joy +in that room. + +Outside it, there was more bitterness than ever. The grandmother had +softened for a few moments at the birth of the children, with +satisfaction at obtaining twice as much as she had hoped; but the +frustration of her vengeance upon Kasimir of Adlerstein Wildschloss had +renewed all her hatred, and she had no scruple in abusing “the +burgher-woman” to the whole household for her artful desire to captivate +another nobleman. She, no doubt, expected that degenerate fool of a +Wildschlosser to come wooing after her; “if he did he should meet his +deserts.” It was the favourite reproach whenever she chose to vent her +fury on the mute, blushing, weeping young widow, whose glance at her +babies was her only appeal against the cruel accusation. + +On Midsummer eve, Heinz the Schneiderlein, who had all day been taking +toll from the various attendants at the Friedmund Wake, came up and +knocked at the door. He had a bundle over his shoulder and a bag in his +hand, which last he offered to her. + +“The toll! It is for the Lady Baroness.” + +“You are my Lady Baroness. I levy toll for this my young lord.” + +“Take it to her, good Heinz, she must have the charge, and needless +strife I will not breed.” + +The angry notes of Dame Kunigunde came up: “How now, knave Schneiderlein! +Come down with the toll instantly. It shall not be tampered with! Down, +I say, thou thief of a tailor.” + +“Go; prithee go, vex her not,” entreated Christina. + +“Coming, lady!” shouted Heinz, and, disregarding all further objurgations +from beneath, he proceeded to deposit his bundle, and explain that it had +been entrusted to him by a pedlar from Ulm, who would likewise take +charge of anything she might have to send in return, and he then ran down +just in time to prevent a domiciliary visit from the old lady. + +From Ulm! The very sound was joy; and Christina with trembling hands +unfastened the cords and stitches that secured the canvas covering, +within which lay folds on folds of linen, and in the midst a rich silver +goblet, long ago brought by her father from Italy, a few of her own +possessions, and a letter from her uncle secured with black floss silk, +with a black seal. + +She kissed it with transport, but the contents were somewhat chilling by +their grave formality. The opening address to the “honour-worthy Lady +Baroness and love-worthy niece,” conveyed to her a doubt on good Master +Gottfried’s part whether she were still truly worthy of love or honour. +The slaughter at Jacob Müller’s had been already known to him, and he +expressed himself as relieved, but greatly amazed, at the information he +had received from the Baron of Adlerstein Wildschloss, who had visited +him at Ulm, after having verified what had been alleged at Schloss +Adlerstein by application to the friar at Offingen. + +Freiherr von Adlerstein Wildschloss had further requested him to make +known that, feud-briefs having regularly passed between Schlangenwald and +Adlerstein, and the two Barons not having been within the peace of the +empire, no justice could be exacted for their deaths; yet, in +consideration of the tender age of the present heirs, the question of +forfeiture or submission should be waived till they could act for +themselves, and Schlangenwald should be withheld from injuring them so +long as no molestation was offered to travellers. It was plain that Sir +Kasimir had well and generously done his best to protect the helpless +twins, and he sent respectful but cordial greetings to their mother. +These however were far less heeded by her than the coldness of her +uncle’s letter. She had drifted beyond the reckoning of her kindred, and +they were sending her her property and bridal linen, as if they had done +with her, and had lost their child in the robber-baron’s wife. Yet at +the end there was a touch of old times in offering a blessing, should she +still value it, and the hopes that heaven and the saints would comfort +her; “for surely, thou poor child, thou must have suffered much, and, if +thou wiliest still to write to thy city kin, thine aunt would rejoice to +hear that thou and thy babes were in good health.” + +Precise grammarian and scribe as was Uncle Gottfried, the lapse from the +formal _Sie_ to the familiar _Du_ went to his niece’s heart. Whenever +her little ones left her any leisure, she spent this her first +wedding-day in writing so earnest and loving a letter as, in spite of +mediæval formality, must assure the good burgomaster that, except in +having suffered much and loved much, his little Christina was not changed +since she had left him. + +No answer could be looked for till another wake-day; but, when it came, +it was full and loving, and therewith were sent a few more of her +favourite books, a girdle, and a richly-scented pair of gloves, together +with two ivory boxes of comfits, and two little purple silk, gold-edged, +straight, narrow garments and tight round brimless lace caps, for the two +little Barons. Nor did henceforth a wake-day pass by without bringing +some such token, not only delightful as gratifying Christina’s affection +by the kindness that suggested them, but supplying absolute wants in the +dire stress of poverty at Schloss Adlerstein. + +Christina durst not tell her mother-in-law of the terms on which they +were unmolested, trusting to the scantiness of the retinue, and to her +own influence with the Schneiderlein to hinder any serious violence. +Indeed, while the Count of Schlangenwald was in the neighbourhood, his +followers took care to secure all that could be captured at the +Debateable Ford, and the broken forces of Adlerstein would have been +insane had they attempted to contend with such superior numbers. That +the castle remained unattacked was attributed by the elder Baroness to +its own merits; nor did Christina undeceive her. They had no intercourse +with the outer world, except that once a pursuivant arrived with a formal +intimation from their kinsman, the Baron of Adlerstein Wildschloss, of +his marriage with the noble Fräulein, Countess Valeska von Trautbach, and +a present of a gay dagger for each of his godsons. Frau Kunigunde +triumphed a good deal over the notion of Christina’s supposed +disappointment; but the tidings were most welcome to the younger lady, +who trusted they would put an end to all future taunts about Wildschloss. +Alas! the handle for abuse was too valuable to be relinquished. + +The last silver cup the castle had possessed had to be given as a reward +to the pursuivant, and mayhap Frau Kunigunde reckoned this as another +offence of her daughter-in-law, since, had Sir Kasimir been safe in the +oubliette, the twins might have shared his broad lands on the Danube, +instead of contributing to the fees of his pursuivant. The cup could +indeed be ill spared. The cattle and swine, the dues of the serfs, and +the yearly toll at the wake were the sole resources of the household; and +though there was no lack of meat, milk, and black bread, sufficient +garments could scarce be come by, with all the spinning of the household, +woven by the village webster, of whose time the baronial household, by +prescriptive right, owned the lion’s share. + +These matters little troubled the two beings in whom Christina’s heart +was wrapped up. Though running about barefooted and bareheaded, they +were healthy, handsome, straight-limbed, noble-looking creatures, so +exactly alike, and so inseparable, that no one except herself could tell +one from the other save by the medal of Our Lady worn by the elder, and +the little cross carved by the mother for the younger; indeed, at one +time, the urchins themselves would feel for cross or medal, ere naming +themselves “Ebbo,” or “Friedel.” They were tall for their age, but with +the slender make of their foreign ancestry; and, though their fair rosy +complexions were brightened by mountain mists and winds, their rapidly +darkening hair, and large liquid brown eyes, told of their Italian blood. +Their grandmother looked on their colouring as a taint, and Christina +herself had hoped to see their father’s simple, kindly blue eyes revive +in his boys; but she could hardly have desired anything different from +the dancing, kindling, or earnest glances that used to flash from under +their long black lashes when they were nestling in her lap, or playing by +her knee, making music with their prattle, or listening to her answers +with faces alive with intelligence. They scarcely left her time for +sorrow or regret. + +They were never quarrelsome. Either from the influence of her +gentleness, or from their absolute union, they could do and enjoy nothing +apart, and would as soon have thought of their right and left hands +falling out as of Ebbo and Friedel disputing. Ebbo however was always +the right hand. _The_ Freiherr, as he had been called from the first, +had, from the time he could sit at the table at all, been put into the +baronial chair with the eagle carved at the back; every member of the +household, from his grandmother downwards, placed him foremost, and +Friedel followed their example, at the less loss to himself, as his hand +was always in Ebbo’s, and all their doings were in common. Sometimes +however the mother doubted whether there would have been this perfect +absence of all contest had the medal of the firstborn chanced to hang +round Friedmund’s neck instead of Eberhard’s. At first they were +entirely left to her. Their grandmother heeded them little as long as +they were healthy, and evidently regarded them more as heirs of +Adlerstein than as grandchildren; but, as they grew older, she showed +anxiety lest their mother should interfere with the fierce, lawless +spirit proper to their line. + +One winter day, when they were nearly six years old, Christina, spinning +at her window, had been watching them snowballing in the castle court, +smiling and applauding every large handful held up to her, every laughing +combat, every well-aimed hit, as the hardy little fellows scattered the +snow in showers round them, raising their merry fur-capped faces to the +bright eyes that “rained influence and judged the prize.” + +By and by they stood still; Ebbo—she knew him by the tossed head and +commanding air—was proposing what Friedel seemed to disapprove; but, +after a short discussion, Ebbo flung away from him, and went towards a +shed where was kept a wolf-cub, recently presented to the young Barons by +old Ulrich’s son. The whelp was so young as to be quite harmless, but it +was far from amiable; Friedel never willingly approached it, and the +snarling and whining replies to all advances had begun to weary and +irritate Ebbo. He dragged it out by its chain, and, tethering it to a +post, made it a mark for his snowballs, which, kneaded hard, and +delivered with hearty good-will by his sturdy arms, made the poor little +beast yelp with pain and terror, till the more tender-hearted Friedel +threw himself on his brother to withhold him, while Mätz stood by +laughing and applauding the Baron. Seeing Ebbo shake Friedel off with +unusual petulance, and pitying the tormented animal, Christina flung a +cloak round her head and hastened down stairs, entering the court just as +the terrified whelp had made a snap at the boy, which was returned by +angry, vindictive pelting, not merely with snow, but with stones. +Friedel sprang to her crying, and her call to Ebbo made him turn, though +with fury in his face, shouting, “He would bite me! the evil beast!” + +“Come with me, Ebbo,” she said. + +“He shall suffer for it, the spiteful, ungrateful brute! Let me alone, +mother!” cried Ebbo, stamping on the snow, but still from habit yielding +to her hand on his shoulder. + +“What now?” demanded the old Baroness, appearing on the scene. “Who is +thwarting the Baron?” + +“She; she will not let me deal with yonder savage whelp,” cried the boy. + +“She! Take thy way, child,” said the old lady. “Visit him well for his +malice. None shall withstand thee here. At thy peril!” she added, +turning on Christina. “What, art not content to have brought base +mechanical blood into a noble house? Wouldst make slaves and cowards of +its sons?” + +“I would teach them true courage, not cruelty,” she tried to say. + +“What should such as thou know of courage? Look here, girl: another word +to daunt the spirit of my grandsons, and I’ll have thee scourged down the +mountain-side! On! At him, Ebbo! That’s my gallant young knight! Out +of the way, girl, with thy whining looks! What, Friedel, be a man, and +aid thy brother! Has she made thee a puling woman already?” And +Kunigunde laid an ungentle grasp upon Friedmund, who was clinging to his +mother, hiding his face in her gown. He struggled against the clutch, +and would not look up or be detached. + +“Fie, poor little coward!” taunted the old lady; “never heed him, Ebbo, +my brave Baron!” + +Cut to the heart, Christina took refuge in her room, and gathered her +Friedel to her bosom, as he sobbed out, “Oh, mother, the poor little +wolf! Oh, mother, are you weeping too? The grandmother should not so +speak to the sweetest, dearest motherling,” he added, throwing his arms +round her neck. + +“Alas, Friedel, that Ebbo should learn that it is brave to hurt the +weak!” + +“It is not like Walther of Vögelwiede,” said Friedel, whose mind had been +much impressed by the Minnesinger’s bequest to the birds. + +“Nor like any true Christian knight. Alas, my poor boys, must you be +taught foul cruelty and I too weak and cowardly to save you?” + +“That never will be,” said Friedel, lifting his head from her shoulder. +“Hark! what a howl was that!” + +“Listen not, dear child; it does but pain thee.” + +“But Ebbo is not shouting. Oh, mother, he is vexed—he is hurt!” cried +Friedel, springing from her lap; but, ere either could reach the window, +Ebbo had vanished from the scene. They only saw the young wolf stretched +dead on the snow, and the same moment in burst Ebbo, and flung himself on +the floor in a passion of weeping. Stimulated by the applause of his +grandmother and of Mätz, he had furiously pelted the poor animal with all +missiles that came to hand, till a blow, either from him or Mätz, had +produced such a howl and struggle of agony, and then such terrible +stillness, as had gone to the young Baron’s very heart, a heart as soft +as that of his father had been by nature. Indeed, his sobs were so +piteous that his mother was relieved to hear only, “The wolf! the poor +wolf!” and to find that he himself was unhurt; and she was scarcely +satisfied of this when Dame Kunigunde came up also alarmed, and thus +turned his grief to wrath. “As if I would cry in that way for a bite!” +he said. “Go, grandame; you made me do it, the poor beast!” with a fresh +sob. + +“Ulrich shall get thee another cub, my child.” + +“No, no; I never will have another cub! Why did you let me kill it?” + +“For shame, Ebbo! Weep for a spiteful brute! That’s no better than thy +mother or Friedel.” + +“I love my mother! I love Friedel! They would have withheld me. Go, +go; I hate you!” + +“Peace, peace, Ebbo,” exclaimed his mother; “you know not what you say. +Ask your grandmother’s pardon.” + +“Peace, thou fool!” screamed the old lady. “The Baron speaks as he will +in his own castle. He is not to be checked here, and thwarted there, and +taught to mince his words like a cap-in-hand pedlar. Pardon! When did +an Adlerstein seek pardon? Come with me, my Baron; I have still some +honey-cakes.” + +“Not I,” replied Ebbo; “honey-cakes will not cure the wolf whelp. Go: I +want my mother and Friedel.” + +Alone with them his pride and passion were gone; but alas! what augury +for the future of her boys was left with the mother! + + + + +CHAPTER X +THE EAGLE’S PREY + + + “IT fell about the Lammas tide, + When moor men win their hay,” + +that all the serfs of Adlerstein were collected to collect their lady’s +hay to be stored for the winter’s fodder of the goats, and of poor Sir +Eberhard’s old white mare, the only steed as yet ridden by the young +Barons. + +The boys were fourteen years old. So monotonous was their mother’s life +that it was chiefly their growth that marked the length of her residence +in the castle. Otherwise there had been no change, except that the elder +Baroness was more feeble in her limbs, and still more irritable and +excitable in temper. There were no events, save a few hunting adventures +of the boys, or the yearly correspondence with Ulm; and the same life +continued, of shrinking in dread from the old lady’s tyrannous dislike, +and of the constant endeavour to infuse better principles into the boys, +without the open opposition for which there was neither power nor +strength. + +The boys’ love was entirely given to their mother. Far from diminishing +with their dependence on her, it increased with the sense of protection; +and, now that they were taller than herself, she seemed to be cherished +by them more than ever. Moreover, she was their oracle. Quick-witted +and active-minded, loving books the more because their grandmother +thought signing a feud-letter the utmost literary effort becoming to a +noble, they never rested till they had acquired all that their mother +could teach them; or, rather, they then became more restless than ever. +Long ago had her whole store of tales and ballads become so familiar, by +repetition, that the boys could correct her in the smallest variation; +reading and writing were mastered as for pleasure; and the Nuremberg +Chronicle, with its wonderful woodcuts, excited such a passion of +curiosity that they must needs conquer its Latin and read it for +themselves. This _World History_, with _Alexander and the Nine +Worthies_, the cities and landscapes, and the oft-repeated portraits, was +Eberhard’s study; but Friedmund continued—constant to Walther of +Vögelweide. Eberhard cared for no character in the Vulgate so much as +for Judas the Maccabee; but Friedmund’s heart was all for King David; and +to both lads, shut up from companionship as they were, every acquaintance +in their books was a living being whose like they fancied might be met +beyond their mountain. And, when they should go forth, like Dietrich of +Berne, in search of adventures, doughty deeds were chiefly to fall to the +lot of Ebbo’s lance; while Friedel was to be their Minnesinger; and +indeed certain verses, that he had murmured in his brother’s ear, had +left no doubt in Ebbo’s mind that the exploits would be worthily sung. + +The soft dreamy eye was becoming Friedel’s characteristic, as fire and +keenness distinguished his brother’s glance. When at rest, the twins +could be known apart by their expression, though in all other respects +they were as alike as ever; and let Ebbo look thoughtful or Friedel eager +and they were again undistinguishable; and indeed they were constantly +changing looks. Had not Friedel been beside him, Ebbo would have been +deemed a wondrous student for his years; had not Ebbo been the standard +of comparison, Friedel would have been in high repute for spirit and +enterprise and skill as a cragsman, with the crossbow, and in all feats +of arms that the Schneiderlein could impart. They shared all +occupations; and it was by the merest shade that Ebbo excelled with the +weapon, and Friedel with the book or tool. For the artist nature was in +them, not intentionally excited by their mother, but far too strong to be +easily discouraged. They had long daily gazed at Ulm in the distance, +hoping to behold the spire completed; and the illustrations in their +mother’s books excited a strong desire to imitate them. The floor had +often been covered with charcoal outlines even before Christina was +persuaded to impart the rules she had learnt from her uncle; and her +carving-tools were soon seized upon. At first they were used only upon +knobs of sticks; but one day when the boys, roaming on the mountain, had +lost their way, and coming to the convent had been there hospitably +welcomed by Father Norbert, they came home wild to make carvings like +what they had seen in the chapel. Jobst the Kohler was continually +importuned for soft wood; the fair was ransacked for knives; and even the +old Baroness could not find great fault with the occupation, base and +mechanical though it were, which disposed of the two restless spirits +during the many hours when winter storms confined them to the castle. +Rude as was their work, the constant observation and choice of subjects +were an unsuspected training and softening. It was not in vain that they +lived in the glorious mountain fastness, and saw the sun descend in his +majesty, dyeing the masses of rock with purple and crimson; not in vain +that they beheld peak and ravine clothed in purest snow, flushed with +rosy light at morn and eve, or contrasted with the purple blue of the +sky; or that they stood marvelling at ice caverns with gigantic crystal +pendants shining with the most magical pure depths of sapphire and +emerald, “as if,” said Friedel, “winter kept in his service all the +jewel-forging dwarfs of the motherling’s tales.” And, when the snow +melted and the buds returned, the ivy spray, the smiling saxifrage, the +purple gentian bell, the feathery rowan leaf, the symmetrical lady’s +mantle, were hailed and loved first as models, then for themselves. + +One regret their mother had, almost amounting to shame. Every virtuous +person believed in the efficacy of the rod, and, maugre her own docility, +she had been chastised with it almost as a religious duty; but her sons +had never felt the weight of a blow, except once when their grandmother +caught them carving a border of eagles and doves round the hall table, +and then Ebbo had returned the blow with all his might. As to herself, +if she ever worked herself up to attempt chastisement, the Baroness was +sure to fall upon her for insulting the noble birth of her sons, and thus +gave them a triumph far worse for them than impunity. In truth, the boys +had their own way, or rather the Baron had his way, and his way was Baron +Friedmund’s. Poor, bare, and scanty as were all the surroundings of +their life, everything was done to feed their arrogance, with only one +influence to counteract their education in pride and violence—a mother’s +influence, indeed, but her authority was studiously taken from her, and +her position set at naught, with no power save what she might derive from +their love and involuntary honour, and the sight of the pain caused her +by their wrong-doings. + +And so the summer’s hay-harvest was come. Peasants clambered into the +green nooks between the rocks to cut down with hook or knife the flowery +grass, for there was no space for the sweep of a scythe. The best crop +was on the bank of the Braunwasser, by the Debateable Ford, but this was +cut and carried on the backs of the serfs, much earlier than the mountain +grass, and never without much vigilance against the Schlangenwaldern; but +this year the Count was absent at his Styrian castle, and little had been +seen or heard of his people. + +The full muster of serfs appeared, for Frau Kunigunde admitted of no +excuses, and the sole absentee was a widow who lived on the ledge of the +mountain next above that on which the castle stood. Her son reported her +to be very ill, and with tears in his eyes entreated Baron Friedel to +obtain leave for him to return to her, since she was quite alone in her +solitary hut, with no one even to give her a drink of water. Friedel +rushed with the entreaty to his grandmother, but she laughed it to scorn. +Lazy Koppel only wanted an excuse, or, if not, the woman was old and +useless, and men could not be spared. + +“Ah! good grandame,” said Friedel, “his father died with ours.” + +“The more honour for him! The more he is bound to work for us. Off, +junker, make no loiterers.” + +Grieved and discomfited, Friedel betook himself to his mother and +brother. + +“Foolish lad not to have come to me!” said the young Baron. “Where is +he? I’ll send him at once.” + +But Christina interposed an offer to go and take Koppel’s place beside +his mother, and her skill was so much prized over all the mountain-side, +that the alternative was gratefully accepted, and she was escorted up the +steep path by her two boys to the hovel, where she spent the day in +attendance on the sick woman. + +Evening came on, the patient was better, but Koppel did not return, nor +did the young Barons come to fetch their mother home. The last sunbeams +were dying off the mountain-tops, and, beginning to suspect something +amiss, she at length set off, and half way down met Koppel, who replied +to her question, “Ah, then, the gracious lady has not heard of our luck. +Excellent booty, and two prisoners! The young Baron has been a hero +indeed, and has won himself a knightly steed.” And, on her further +interrogation, he added, that an unusually rich but small company had +been reported by Jobst the Kohler to be on the way to the ford, where he +had skilfully prepared a stumbling-block. The gracious Baroness had +caused Hatto to jodel all the hay-makers together, and they had fallen on +the travellers by the straight path down the crag. “Ach! did not the +young Baron spring like a young gemsbock? And in midstream down came +their pack-horses and their wares! Some of them took to flight, but, +pfui, there were enough for my young lord to show his mettle upon. Such +a prize the saints have not sent since the old Baron’s time.” + +Christina pursued her walk in dismay at this new beginning of freebooting +in its worst form, overthrowing all her hopes. The best thing that could +happen would be the immediate interference of the Swabian League, while +her sons were too young to be personally held guilty. Yet this might +involve ruin and confiscation; and, apart from all consequences, she +bitterly grieved that the stain of robbery should have fallen on her +hitherto innocent sons. + +Every peasant she met greeted her with praises of their young lord, and, +when she mounted the hall-steps, she found the floor strewn with bales of +goods. + +“Mother,” cried Ebbo, flying up to her, “have you heard? I have a horse! +a spirited bay, a knightly charger, and Friedel is to ride him by turns +with me. Where is Friedel? And, mother, Heinz said I struck as good a +stroke as any of them, and I have a sword for Friedel now. Why does he +not come? And, motherling, this is for you, a gown of velvet, a real +black velvet, that will make you fairer than our Lady at the Convent. +Come to the window and see it, mother dear.” + +The boy was so joyously excited that she could hardly withstand his +delight, but she did not move. + +“Don’t you like the velvet?” he continued. “We always said that, the +first prize we won, the motherling should wear velvet. Do but look at +it.” + +“Woe is me, my Ebbo!” she sighed, bending to kiss his brow. + +He understood her at once, coloured, and spoke hastily and in defiance. +“It was in the river, mother, the horses fell; it is our right.” + +“Fairly, Ebbo?” she asked in a low voice. + +“Nay, mother, if Jobst _did_ hide a branch in midstream, it was no doing +of mine; and the horses fell. The Schlangenwaldern don’t even wait to +let them fall. We cannot live, if we are to be so nice and dainty.” + +“Ah! my son, I thought not to hear you call mercy and honesty mere +niceness.” + +“What do I hear?” exclaimed Frau Kunigunde, entering from the storeroom, +where she had been disposing of some spices, a much esteemed commodity. +“Are you chiding and daunting this boy, as you have done with the other?” + +“My mother may speak to me!” cried Ebbo, hotly, turning round. + +“And quench thy spirit with whining fooleries! Take the Baron’s bounty, +woman, and vex him not after his first knightly exploit.” + +“Heaven knows, and Ebbo knows,” said the trembling Christina, “that, were +it a knightly exploit, I were the first to exult.” + +“Thou! thou craftsman’s girl! dost presume to call in question the +knightly deeds of a noble house! There!” cried the furious Baroness, +striking her face. “Now! dare to be insolent again.” Her hand was +uplifted for another blow, when it was grasped by Eberhard, and, the next +moment, he likewise held the other hand, with youthful strength far +exceeding hers. She had often struck his mother before, but not in his +presence, and the greatness of the shock seemed to make him cool and +absolutely dignified. + +“Be still, grandame,” he said. “No, mother, I am not hurting her,” and +indeed the surprise seemed to have taken away her rage and volubility, +and unresistingly she allowed him to seat her in a chair. Still holding +her arm, he made his clear boyish voice resound through the hall, saying, +“Retainers all, know that, as I am your lord and master, so is my +honoured mother lady of the castle, and she is never to be gainsay’ed, +let her say or do what she will.” + +“You are right, Herr Freiherr,” said Heinz. “The Frau Christina is our +gracious and beloved dame. Long live the Freiherrinn Christina!” And the +voices of almost all the serfs present mingled in the cry. + +“And hear you all,” continued Eberhard, “she shall rule all, and never be +trampled on more. Grandame, you understand?” + +The old woman seemed confounded, and cowered in her chair without +speaking. Christina, almost dismayed by this silence, would have +suggested to Ebbo to say something kind or consoling; but at that moment +she was struck with alarm by his renewed inquiry for his brother. + +“Friedel! Was not he with thee?” + +“No; I never saw him!” + +Ebbo flew up the stairs, and shouted for his brother; then, coming down, +gave orders for the men to go out on the mountain-side, and search and +jodel. He was hurrying with them, but his mother caught his arm. “O +Ebbo, how can I let you go? It is dark, and the crags are so perilous!” + +“Mother, I cannot stay!” and the boy flung his arms round her neck, and +whispered in her ear, “Friedel said it would be a treacherous attack, and +I called him a craven. Oh, mother, we never parted thus before! He went +up the hillside. Oh, where is he?” + +Infected by the boy’s despairing voice, yet relieved that Friedel at +least had withstood the temptation, Christina still held Ebbo’s hand, and +descended the steps with him. The clear blue sky was fast showing the +stars, and into the evening stillness echoed the loud wide jodeln, cast +back from the other side of the ravine. Ebbo tried to raise his voice, +but broke down in the shout, and, choked with agitation, said, “Let me +go, mother. None know his haunts as I do!” + +“Hark!” she said, only grasping him tighter. + +Thinner, shriller, clearer came a far-away cry from the heights, and Ebbo +thrilled from head to foot, then sent up another pealing mountain shout, +responded to by a jodel so pitched as to be plainly not an echo. +“Towards the Red Eyrie,” said Hans. + +“He will have been to the Ptarmigan’s Pool,” said Ebbo, sending up his +voice again, in hopes that the answer would sound less distant; but, +instead of this, its intonations conveyed, to these adepts in mountain +language, that Friedel stood in need of help. + +“Depend upon it,” said the startled Ebbo, “that he has got up amongst +those rocks where the dead chamois rolled down last summer;” then, as +Christina uttered a faint cry of terror, Heinz added, “Fear not, lady, +those are not the jodeln of one who has met with a hurt. Baron Friedel +has the sense to be patient rather than risk his bones if he cannot move +safely in the dark.” + +“Up after him!” said Ebbo, emitting a variety of shouts intimating speedy +aid, and receiving a halloo in reply that reassured even his mother. +Equipped with a rope and sundry torches of pinewood, Heinz and two of the +serfs were speedily ready, and Christina implored her son to let her come +so far as where she should not impede the others. He gave her his arm, +and Heinz held his torch so as to guide her up a winding path, not in +itself very steep, but which she could never have climbed had daylight +shown her what it overhung. Guided by the constant exchange of jodeln, +they reached a height where the wind blew cold and wild, and Ebbo pointed +to an intensely black shadow overhung by a peak rising like the gable of +a house into the sky. “Yonder lies the tarn,” he said. “Don’t stir. +This way lies the cliff. Fried-mund!” exchanging the jodel for the name. + +“Here!—this way! Under the Red Eyrie,” called back the wanderer; and +steering their course round the rocks above the pool, the rescuers made +their way towards the base of the peak, which was in fact the summit of +the mountain, the top of the Eagle’s Ladder, the highest step of which +they had attained. The peak towered over them, and beneath, the castle +lights seemed as if it would be easy to let a stone fall straight down on +them. + +Friedel’s cry seemed to come from under their feet. “I am here! I am +safe; only it grew so dark that I durst not climb up or down.” + +The Schneiderlein explained that he would lower down a rope, which, when +fastened round Friedel’s waist, would enable him to climb safely up; and, +after a breathless space, the torchlight shone upon the longed-for face, +and Friedel springing on the path, cried, “The mother!—and here!”— + +“Oh, Friedel, where have you been? What is this in your arms?” + +He showed them the innocent face of a little white kid. + +“Whence is it, Friedel?” + +He pointed to the peak, saying, “I was lying on my back by the tarn, when +my lady eagle came sailing overhead, so low that I could see this poor +little thing, and hear it bleat.” + +“Thou hast been to the Eyrie—the inaccessible Eyrie!” exclaimed Ebbo, in +amazement. + +“That’s a mistake. It is not hard after the first” said Friedel. “I +only waited to watch the old birds out again.” + +“Robbed the eagles! And the young ones?” + +“Well,” said Friedmund, as if half ashamed, “they were twin eaglets, and +their mother had left them, and I felt as though I could not harm them; +so I only bore off their provisions, and stuck some feathers in my cap. +But by that time the sun was down, and soon I could not see my footing; +and, when I found that I had missed the path, I thought I had best nestle +in the nook where I was, and wait for day. I grieved for my mother’s +fear; but oh, to see her here!” + +“Ah, Friedel! didst do it to prove my words false?” interposed Ebbo, +eagerly. + +“What words?” + +“Thou knowest. Make me not speak them again.” + +“Oh, those!” said Friedel, only now recalling them. “No, verily; they +were but a moment’s anger. I wanted to save the kid. I think it is old +mother Rika’s white kid. But oh, motherling! I grieve to have thus +frightened you.” + +Not a single word passed between them upon Ebbo’s exploits. Whether +Friedel had seen all from the heights, or whether he intuitively +perceived that his brother preferred silence, he held his peace, and both +were solely occupied in assisting their mother down the pass, the +difficulties of which were far more felt now than in the excitement of +the ascent; only when they were near home, and the boys were walking in +the darkness with arms round one another’s necks, Christina heard Friedel +say low and rather sadly, “I think I shall be a priest, Ebbo.” + +To which Ebbo only answered, “Pfui!” + +Christina understood that Friedel meant that robbery must be a severance +between the brothers. Alas! had the moment come when their paths must +diverge? Could Ebbo’s step not be redeemed? + +Ursel reported that Dame Kunigunde had scarcely spoken again, but had +retired, like one stunned, into her bed. Friedel was half asleep after +the exertions of the day; but Ebbo did not speak, and both soon betook +themselves to their little turret chamber within their mother’s. + +Christina prayed long that night, her heart full of dread of the +consequence of this transgression. Rumours of freebooting castles +destroyed by the Swabian League had reached her every wake day, and, if +this outrage were once known, the sufferance that left Adlerstein +unmolested must be over. There was hope indeed in the weakness and +uncertainty of the Government; but present safety would in reality be the +ruin of Ebbo, since he would be encouraged to persist in the career of +violence now unhappily begun. She knew not what to ask, save that her +sons might be shielded from evil, and might fulfil that promise of her +dream, the star in heaven, the light on earth. And for the present!—the +good God guide her and her sons through the difficult morrow, and turn +the heart of the unhappy old woman below! + +When, exhausted with weeping and watching, she rose from her knees, she +stole softly into her sons’ turret for a last look at them. Generally +they were so much alike in their sleep that even she was at fault between +them; but that night there was no doubt. Friedel, pale after the day’s +hunger and fatigue, slept with relaxed features in the most complete +calm; but though Ebbo’s eyes were closed, there was no repose in his +face—his hair was tossed, his colour flushed, his brow contracted, the +arm flung across his brother had none of the ease of sleep. She doubted +whether he were not awake; but, knowing that he would not brook any +endeavour to force confidence he did not offer, she merely hung over them +both, murmured a prayer and blessing, and left them. + + + + +CHAPTER XI +THE CHOICE IN LIFE + + +“FRIEDEL, wake!” + +“Is it day?” said Friedel, slowly wakening, and crossing himself as he +opened his eyes. “Surely the sun is not up—?” + +“We must be before the sun!” said Ebbo, who was on his feet, beginning to +dress himself. “Hush, and come! Do not wake the mother. It must be ere +she or aught else be astir! Thy prayers—I tell thee this is a work as +good as prayer.” + +Half awake, and entirely bewildered, Friedel dipped his finger in the +pearl mussel shell of holy water over their bed, and crossed his own brow +and his brother’s; then, carrying their shoes, they crossed their +mother’s chamber, and crept down stairs. Ebbo muttered to his brother, +“Stand thou still there, and pray the saints to keep her asleep;” and +then, with bare feet, moved noiselessly behind the wooden partition that +shut off his grandmother’s box-bedstead from the rest of the hall. She +lay asleep with open mouth, snoring loudly, and on her pillow lay the +bunch of castle keys, that was always carried to her at night. It was a +moment of peril when Ebbo touched it; but he had nerved himself to be +both steady and dexterous, and he secured it without a jingle, and then, +without entering the hall, descended into a passage lit by a rough +opening cut in the rock. Friedel, who began to comprehend, followed him +close and joyfully, and at the first door he fitted in, and with some +difficulty turned, a key, and pushed open the door of a vault, where +morning light, streaming through the grated window, showed two captives, +who had started to their feet, and now stood regarding the pair in the +doorway as if they thought their dreams were multiplying the young Baron +who had led the attack. + +“_Signori_—” began the principal of the two; but Ebbo spoke. + +“Sir, you have been brought here by a mistake in the absence of my +mother, the lady of the castle. If you will follow me, I will restore +all that is within my reach, and put you on your way.” + +The merchant’s knowledge of German was small, but the purport of the +words was plain, and he gladly left the damp, chilly vault. Ebbo pointed +to the bales that strewed the hall. “Take all that can be carried,” he +said. “Here is your sword, and your purse,” he said, for these had been +given to him in the moment of victory. “I will bring out your horse and +lead you to the pass.” + +“Give him food,” whispered Friedel; but the merchant was too anxious to +have any appetite. Only he faltered in broken German a proposal to pay +his respects to the Signora Castellana, to whom he owed so much. + +“No! _Dormit in lecto_,” said Ebbo, with a sudden inspiration caught +from the Latinized sound of some of the Italian words, but colouring +desperately as he spoke. + +The Latin proved most serviceable, and the merchant understood that his +property was restored, and made all speed to gather it together, and +transport it to the stable. One or two of his beasts of burden had been +lost in the fray, and there were more packages than could well be carried +by the merchant, his servant, and his horse. Ebbo gave the aid of the +old white mare—now very white indeed—and in truth the boys pitied the +merchant’s fine young bay for being put to base trading uses, and were +rather shocked to hear that it had been taken in payment for a knight’s +branched velvet gown, and would be sold again at Ulm. + +“What a poor coxcomb of a knight!” said they to one another, as they +patted the creature’s neck with such fervent admiration that the merchant +longed to present it to them, when he saw that the old white mare was the +sole steed they possessed, and watched their tender guidance both of her +and of the bay up the rocky path so familiar to them. + +“But ah, _signorini miei_, I am an _infelice infelicissimo_, ever +persecuted by _le Fate_.” + +“By whom? A count like Schlangenwald?” asked Ebbo. + +“_Das Schicksal_,” whispered Friedel. + +“Three long miserable years did I spend as a captive among the Moors, +having lost all, my ships and all I had, and being forced to row their +galleys, _gli scomunicati_.” + +“Galleys!” exclaimed Ebbo; “there are some pictured in our _World History +before Carthage_. Would that I could see one!” + +“The _signorino_ would soon have seen his fill, were he between the +decks, chained to the bench for weeks together, without ceasing to row +for twenty-four hours together, with a renegade standing over to lash us, +or to put a morsel into our mouths if we were fainting.” + +“The dogs! Do they thus use Christian men?” cried Friedel. + +“_Sì_, _sì—ja wohl_. There were a good fourscore of us, and among them a +Tedesco, a good man and true, from whom I learnt _la lingua loro_.” + +“Our tongue!—from whom?” asked one twin of the other. + +“A Tedesco, a fellow-countryman of _sue eccellenze_.” + +“_Deutscher_!” cried both boys, turning in horror, “our Germans so +treated by the pagan villains?” + +“Yea, truly, _signorini miei_. This fellow-captive of mine was a +_cavaliere_ in his own land, but he had been betrayed and sold by his +enemies, and he mourned piteously for _la sposa sua_—his bride, as they +say here. A goodly man and a tall, piteously cramped in the narrow deck, +I grieved to leave him there when the good _confraternità_ at Genoa paid +my ransom. Having learnt to speak _il Tedesco_, and being no longer able +to fit out a vessel, I made my venture beyond the Alps; but, alas! till +this moment fortune has still been adverse. My mules died of the toil of +crossing the mountains; and, when with reduced baggage I came to the +river beneath there—when my horses fell and my servants fled, and the +peasants came down with their hayforks—I thought myself in hands no +better than those of the Moors themselves.” + +“It was wrongly done,” said Ebbo, in an honest, open tone, though +blushing. “I have indeed a right to what may be stranded on the bank, +but never more shall foul means be employed for the overthrow.” + +The boys had by this time led the traveller through the Gemsbock’s Pass, +within sight of the convent. “There,” said Ebbo, “will they give you +harbourage, food, a guide, and a beast to carry the rest of your goods. +We are now upon convent land, and none will dare to touch your bales; so +I will unload old Schimmel.” + +“Ah, _signorino_, if I might offer any token of gratitude—” + +“Nay,” said Ebbo, with boyish lordliness, “make me not a spoiler.” + +“If the _signorini_ should ever come to Genoa,” continued the trader, +“and would honour Gian Battista dei Battiste with a call, his whole house +would be at their feet.” + +“Thanks; I would that we could see strange lands!” said Ebbo. “But come, +Friedel, the sun is high, and I locked them all into the castle to make +matters safe.” + +“May the liberated captive know the name of his deliverers, that he may +commend it to the saints?” asked the merchant. + +“I am Eberhard, Freiherr von Adlerstein, and this is Freiherr Friedmund, +my brother. Farewell, sir.” + +“Strange,” muttered the merchant, as he watched the two boys turn down +the pass, “strange how like one barbarous name is to another. Eberardo! +That was what we called _il Tedesco_, and, when he once told me his +family name, it ended in _stino_; but all these foreign names sound +alike. Let us speed on, lest these accursed peasants should wake, and be +beyond the control of the _signorino_.” + +“Ah!” sighed Ebbo, as soon as he had hurried out of reach of the +temptation, “small use in being a baron if one is to be no better +mounted!” + +“Thou art glad to have let that fair creature go free, though,” said +Friedel. + +“Nay, my mother’s eyes would let me have no rest in keeping him. +Otherwise—Talk not to me of gladness, Friedel! Thou shouldst know +better. How is one to be a knight with nothing to ride but a beast old +enough to be his grandmother?” + +“Knighthood of the heart may be content to go afoot,” said Friedel. “Oh, +Ebbo, what a brother thou art! How happy the mother will be!” + +“Pfui, Friedel; what boots heart without spur? I am sick of being mewed +up here within these walls of rock! No sport, not even with falling on a +traveller. I am worse off than ever were my forefathers!” + +“But how is it? I cannot understand,” asked Friedel. “What has changed +thy mind?” + +“Thou, and the mother, and, more than all, the grandame. Listen, +Friedel: when thou camest up, in all the whirl of eagerness and glad +preparation, with thy grave face and murmur that Jobst had put forked +stakes in the stream, it was past man’s endurance to be baulked of the +fray. Thou hast forgotten what I said to thee then, good Friedel?” + +“Long since. No doubt I thrust in vexatiously.” + +“Not so,” said Ebbo; “and I saw thou hadst reason, for the stakes were +most maliciously planted, with long branches hid by the current; but the +fellows were showing fight, and I could not stay to think then, or I +should have seemed to fear them! I can tell you we made them run! But I +never meant the grandmother to put yon poor fellow in the dungeon, and +use him worse than a dog. I wot that he was my captive, and none of +hers. And then came the mother; and oh, Friedel, she looked as if I were +slaying her when she saw the spoil; and, ere I had made her see right and +reason, the old lady came swooping down in full malice and spite, and +actually came to blows. She struck the motherling—struck her on the +face, Friedel!” + +“I fear me it has so been before,” said Friedel, sadly. + +“Never will it be so again,” said Ebbo, standing still. “I took the old +hag by the hands, and told her she had ruled long enough! My father’s +wife is as good a lady of the castle as my grandfather’s, and I myself am +lord thereof; and, since my Lady Kunigunde chooses to cross me and beat +my mother about this capture, why she has seen the last of it, and may +learn who is master, and who is mistress!” + +“Oh, Ebbo! I would I had seen it! But was not she outrageous? Was not +the mother shrinking and ready to give back all her claims at once?” + +“Perhaps she would have been, but just then she found thou wast not with +me, and I found thou wast not with her, and we thought of nought else. +But thou must stand by me, Friedel, and help to keep the grandmother in +her place, and the mother in hers.” + +“If the mother _will_ be kept,” said Friedel. “I fear me she will only +plead to be left to the grandame’s treatment, as before.” + +“Never, Friedel! I will never see her so used again. I released this +man solely to show that she is to rule here.—Yes, I know all about +freebooting being a deadly sin, and moreover that it will bring the +League about our ears; and it was a cowardly trick of Jobst to put those +branches in the stream. Did I not go over it last night till my brain +was dizzy? But still, it is but living and dying like our fathers, and I +hate tameness or dullness, and it is like a fool to go back from what one +has once begun.” + +“No; it is like a brave man, when one has begun wrong,” said Friedel. + +“But then I thought of the grandame triumphing over the gentle mother—and +I know the mother wept over her beads half the night. She _shall_ find +she has had her own way for once this morning.” + +Friedel was silent for a few moments, then said, “Let me tell thee what I +saw yesterday, Ebbo.” + +“So,” answered the other brother. + +“I liked not to vex my mother by my tidings, so I climbed up to the tarn. +There is something always healing in that spot, is it not so, Ebbo? When +the grandmother has been raving” (hitherto Friedel’s worst grievance) “it +is like getting up nearer the quiet sky in the stillness there, when the +sky seems to have come down into the deep blue water, and all is so +still, so wondrous still and calm. I wonder if, when we see the great +Dome Kirk itself, it will give one’s spirit wings, as does the gazing up +from the Ptarmigan’s Pool.” + +“Thou minnesinger, was it the blue sky thou hadst to tell me of?” + +“No, brother, it was ere I reached it that I saw this sight. I had +scaled the peak where grows the stunted rowan, and I sat down to look +down on the other side of the gorge. It was clear where I sat, but the +ravine was filled with clouds, and upon them—” + +“The shape of the blessed Friedmund, thy patron?” + +“_Our_ patron,” said Friedel; “I saw him, a giant form in gown and hood, +traced in grey shadow upon the dazzling white cloud; and oh, Ebbo! he was +struggling with a thinner, darker, wilder shape bearing a club. He +strove to withhold it; his gestures threatened and warned! I watched +like one spell-bound, for it was to me as the guardian spirit of our race +striving for thee with the enemy.” + +“How did it end?” + +“The cloud darkened, and swallowed them; nor should I have known the +issue, if suddenly, on the very cloud where the strife had been, there +had not beamed forth a rainbow—not a common rainbow, Ebbo, but a perfect +ring, a soft-glancing, many-tinted crown of victory. Then I knew the +saint had won, and that thou wouldst win.” + +“I! What, not thyself—his own namesake?” + +“I thought, Ebbo, if the fight went very hard—nay, if for a time the +grandame led thee her way—that belike I might serve thee best by giving +up all, and praying for thee in the hermit’s cave, or as a monk.” + +“Thou!—thou, my other self! Aid me by burrowing in a hole like a rat! +What foolery wilt say next? No, no, Friedel, strike by my side, and I +will strike with thee; pray by my side, and I will pray with thee; but if +thou takest none of the strokes, then will I none of the prayers!” + +“Ebbo, thou knowest not what thou sayest.” + +“No one knows better! See, Friedel, wouldst thou have me all that the +old Adlersteinen were, and worse too? then wilt thou leave me and hide +thine head in some priestly cowl. Maybe thou thinkest to pray my soul +into safety at the last moment as a favour to thine own abundant +sanctity; but I tell thee, Friedel, that’s no manly way to salvation. If +thou follow’st that track, I’ll take care to get past the border-line +within which prayer can help.” + +Friedel crossed himself, and uttered an imploring exclamation of horror +at these wild words. + +“Stay,” said Ebbo; “I said not I meant any such thing—so long as thou +wilt be with me. My purpose is to be a good man and true, a guard to the +weak, a defence against the Turk, a good lord to my vassals, and, if it +may not be otherwise, I will take my oath to the Kaiser, and keep it. Is +that enough for thee, Friedel, or wouldst thou see me a monk at once?” + +“Oh, Ebbo, this is what we ever planned. I only dreamed of the other +when—when thou didst seem to be on the other track.” + +“Well, what can I do more than turn back? I’ll get absolution on Sunday, +and tell Father Norbert that I will do any penance he pleases; and warn +Jobst that, if he sets any more traps in the river, I will drown him +there next! Only get this priestly fancy away, Friedel, once and for +ever!” + +“Never, never could I think of what would sever us,” cried Friedel, +“save—when—” he added, hesitating, unwilling to harp on the former +string. Ebbo broke in imperiously, + +“Friedmund von Adlerstein, give me thy solemn word that I never again +hear of this freak of turning priest or hermit. What! art slow to speak? +Thinkest me too bad for thee?” + +“No, Ebbo. Heaven knows thou art stronger, more resolute than I. I am +more likely to be too bad for thee. But so long as we can be true, +faithful God-fearing Junkern together, Heaven forbid that we should +part!” + +“It is our bond!” said Ebbo; “nought shall part us.” + +“Nought but death,” said Friedmund, solemnly. + +“For my part,” said Ebbo, with perfect seriousness, “I do not believe +that one of us can live or die without the other. But, hark! there’s an +outcry at the castle! They have found out that they are locked in! Ha! +ho! hilloa, Hatto, how like you playing prisoner?” + +Ebbo would have amused himself with the dismay of his garrison a little +longer, had not Friedel reminded him that their mother might be suffering +for their delay, and this suggestion made him march in hastily. He found +her standing drooping under the pitiless storm which Frau Kunigunde was +pouring out at the highest pitch of her cracked, trembling voice, one +hand uplifted and clenched, the other grasping the back of a chair, while +her whole frame shook with rage too mighty for her strength. + +“Grandame,” said Ebbo, striding up to the scene of action, “cease. +Remember my words yestereve.” + +“She has stolen the keys! She has tampered with the servants! She has +released the prisoner—thy prisoner, Ebbo! She has cheated us as she did +with Wildschloss! False burgherinn! I trow she wanted another suitor! +Bane—pest of Adlerstein!” + +Friedmund threw a supporting arm round his mother, but Ebbo confronted +the old lady. “Grandmother,” he said, “I freed the captive. I stole the +keys—I and Friedel! No one else knew my purpose. He was my captive, and +I released him because he was foully taken. I have chosen my lot in +life,” he added; and, standing in the middle of the hall, he took off his +cap, and spoke gravely:—“I will not be a treacherous robber-outlaw, but, +so help me God, a faithful, loyal, godly nobleman.” + +His mother and Friedel breathed an “Amen” with all their hearts; and he +continued, + +“And thou, grandame, peace! Such reverence shalt thou have as befits my +father’s mother; but henceforth mine own lady-mother is the mistress of +this castle, and whoever speaks a rude word to her offends the Freiherr +von Adlerstein.” + + [Picture: “‘Henceforth mine own lady-mother is the mistress of this + castle, and whoever speaks a rude word to her offends the Freiherr von + Adlerstein’”—Page 126] + +That last day’s work had made a great step in Ebbo’s life, and there he +stood, grave and firm, ready for the assault; for, in effect, he and all +besides expected that the old lady would fly at him or at his mother like +a wild cat, as she would assuredly have done in a like case a year +earlier; but she took them all by surprise by collapsing into her chair +and sobbing piteously. Ebbo, much distressed, tried to make her +understand that she was to have all care and honour; but she muttered +something about ingratitude, and continued to exhaust herself with +weeping, spurning away all who approached her; and thenceforth she lived +in a gloomy, sullen acquiescence in her deposition. + +Christina inclined to the opinion that she must have had some slight +stroke in the night, for she was never the same woman again; her vigour +had passed away, and she would sit spinning, or rocking herself in her +chair, scarcely alive to what passed, or scolding and fretting like a +shadow of her old violence. Nothing pleased her but the attentions of +her grandsons, and happily she soon ceased to know them apart, and gave +Ebbo credit for all that was done for her by Friedel, whose separate +existence she seemed to have forgotten. + +As long as her old spirit remained she would not suffer the approach of +her daughter-in-law, and Christina could only make suggestions for her +comfort to be acted on by Ursel; and though the reins of government fast +dropped from the aged hands, they were but gradually and cautiously +assumed by the younger Baroness. + +Only Elsie remained of the rude, demoralized girls whom she had found in +the castle, and their successors, though dull and uncouth, were meek and +manageable; the men of the castle had all, except Mätz, been always +devoted to the Frau Christina; and Mätz, to her great relief, ran away so +soon as he found that decency and honesty were to be the rule. Old +Hatto, humpbacked Hans, and Heinz the Schneiderlein, were the whole male +establishment, and had at least the merit of attachment to herself and +her sons; and in time there was a shade of greater civilization about the +castle, though impeded both by dire poverty and the doggedness of the old +retainers. At least the court was cleared of the swine, and, within +doors, the table was spread with dainty linen out of the parcels from +Ulm, and the meals served with orderliness that annoyed the boys at +first, but soon became a subject of pride and pleasure. + +Frau Kunigunde lingered long, with increasing infirmities. After the +winter day, when, running down at a sudden noise, Friedel picked her up +from the hearthstone, scorched, bruised, almost senseless, she accepted +Christina’s care with nothing worse than a snarl, and gradually seemed to +forget the identity of her nurse with the interloping burgher girl. +Thanks or courtesy had been no part of her nature, least of all towards +her own sex, and she did little but grumble, fret, and revile her +attendant; but she soon depended so much on Christina’s care, that it was +hardly possible to leave her. At her best and strongest, her talk was +maundering abuse of her son’s low-born wife; but at times her wanderings +showed black gulfs of iniquity and coarseness of soul that would make the +gentle listener tremble, and be thankful that her sons were out of +hearing. And thus did Christina von Adlerstein requite fifteen years of +persecution. + +The old lady’s first failure had been in the summer of 1488; it was the +Advent season of 1489, when the snow was at the deepest, and the frost at +the hardest, that the two hardy mountaineer grandsons fetched over the +pass Father Norbert, and a still sturdier, stronger monk, to the dying +woman. + +“Are we in time, mother?” asked Ebbo, from the door of the upper chamber, +where the Adlersteins began and ended life, shaking the snow from his +mufflings. Ruddy with exertion in the sharp wind, what a contrast he was +to all within the room! + +“Who is that?” said a thin, feeble voice. + +“It is Ebbo. It is the Baron,” said Christina. “Come in, Ebbo. She is +somewhat revived.” + +“Will she be able to speak to the priest?” asked Ebbo. + +“Priest!” feebly screamed the old woman. “No priest for me! My lord +died unshriven, unassoilzied. Where he is, there will I be. Let a +priest approach me at his peril!” + +Stony insensibility ensued; nor did she speak again, though life lasted +many hours longer. The priests did their office; for, impenitent as the +life and frantic as the words had been, the opinions of the time deemed +that their rites might yet give the departing soul a chance, though the +body was unconscious. + +When all was over, snow was again falling, shifting and drifting, so that +it was impossible to leave the castle, and the two monks were kept there +for a full fortnight, during which Christmas solemnities were observed in +the chapel, for the first time since the days of Friedmund the Good. The +corpse of Kunigunde, preserved—we must say the word—salted, was placed in +a coffin, and laid in that chapel to await the melting of the snows, when +the vault at the Hermitage could be opened. And this could not be +effected till Easter had nearly come round again, and it was within a +week of their sixteenth birthday that the two young Barons stood together +at the coffin’s head, serious indeed, but more with the thought of life +than of death. + + + + +CHAPTER XII +BACK TO THE DOVECOTE + + +FOR the first time in her residence at Adlerstein, now full half her +life, the Freiherrinn Christina ventured to send a messenger to Ulm, +namely, a lay brother of the convent of St. Ruprecht, who undertook to +convey to Master Gottfried Sorel her letter, informing him of the death +of her mother-in-law, and requesting him to send the same tidings to the +Freiherr von Adlerstein Wildschloss, the kinsman and godfather of her +sons. + +She was used to wait fifty-two weeks for answers to her letters, and was +amazed when, at the end of three, two stout serving-men were guided by +Jobst up the pass; but her heart warmed to their flat caps and round +jerkins, they looked so like home. They bore a letter of invitation to +her and her sons to come at once to her uncle’s house. The King of the +Romans, and perhaps the Emperor, were to come to the city early in the +summer, and there could be no better opportunity of presenting the young +Barons to their sovereign. Sir Kasimir of Adlerstein Wildschloss would +meet them there for the purpose, and would obtain their admission to the +League, in which all Swabian nobles had bound themselves to put down +robbery and oppression, and outside which there was nothing but outlawry +and danger. + +“So must it be?” said Ebbo, between his teeth, as he leant moodily +against the wall, while his mother was gone to attend to the fare to be +set before the messengers. + +“What! art not glad to take wing at last?” exclaimed Friedel, cut short +in an exclamation of delight. + +“Take wing, forsooth! To be guest of a greasy burgher, and call cousin +with him! Fear not, Friedel; I’ll not vex the motherling. Heaven knows +she has had pain, grief, and subjection enough in her lifetime, and I +would not hinder her visit to her home; but I would she could go alone, +nor make us show our poverty to the swollen city folk, and listen to +their endearments. I charge thee, Friedel, do as I do; be not too +familiar with them. Could we but sprain an ankle over the crag—” + +“Nay, she would stay to nurse us,” said Friedel, laughing; “besides, thou +art needed for the matter of homage.” + +“Look, Friedel,” said Ebbo, sinking his voice, “I shall not lightly yield +my freedom to king or Kaiser. Maybe, there is no help for it; but it +irks me to think that I should be the last Lord of Adlerstein to whom the +title of Freiherr is not a mockery. Why dost bend thy brow, brother? +What art thinking of?” + +“Only a saying in my mother’s book, that well-ordered service is true +freedom,” said Friedel. “And methinks there will be freedom in rushing +at last into the great far-off!”—the boy’s eye expanded and glistened +with eagerness. “Here are we prisoners—to ourselves, if you like—but +prisoners still, pent up in the rocks, seeing no one, hearing scarce an +echo from the knightly or the poet world, nor from all the wonders that +pass. And the world has a history going on still, like the _Chronicle_. +Oh, Ebbo, think of being in the midst of life, with lance and sword, and +seeing the Kaiser—the Kaiser of the holy Roman Empire!” + +“With lance and sword, well and good; but would it were not at the cost +of liberty!” + +However Ebbo forbore to damp his mother’s joy, save by the one +warning—“Understand, mother, that I will not be pledged to anything. I +will not bend to the yoke ere I have seen and judged for myself.” + +The manly sound of the words gave a sweet sense of exultation to the +mother, even while she dreaded the proud spirit, and whispered, “God +direct thee, my son.” + +Certainly Ebbo, hitherto the most impetuous and least thoughtful of the +two lads, had a gravity and seriousness about him, that, but for his +naturally sweet temper, would have seemed sullen. His aspirations for +adventure had hitherto been more vehement than Friedel’s; but, when the +time seemed at hand, his regrets at what he might have to yield +overpowered his hopes of the future. The fierce haughtiness of the old +Adlersteins could not brook the descent from the crag, even while the +keen, clear burgher wit that Ebbo inherited from the other side of the +house taught him that the position was untenable, and that his isolated +glory was but a poor mean thing after all. And the struggle made him sad +and moody. + +Friedel, less proud, and with nothing to yield, was open to blithe +anticipations of what his fancy pictured as the home of all the beauty, +sacred or romantic, that he had glimpsed at through his mother. +Religion, poetry, learning, art, refinement, had all come to him through +her; and though he had a soul that dreamt and soared in the lonely +grandeur of the mountain heights, it craved further aliment for its +yearnings for completeness and perfection. Long ago had Friedel come to +the verge of such attainments as he could work out of his present +materials, and keen had been his ardour for the means of progress, though +only the mountain tarn had ever been witness to the full outpouring of +the longings with which he gazed upon the dim, distant city like a land +of enchantment. + +The journey was to be at once, so as to profit by the escort of Master +Sorel’s men. Means of transport were scanty, but Ebbo did not choose +that the messengers should report the need, and bring back a bevy of +animals at the burgher’s expense; so the mother was mounted on the old +white mare, and her sons and Heinz trusted to their feet. By setting out +early on a May morning, the journey could be performed ere night, and the +twilight would find them in the domains of the free city, where their +small numbers would be of no importance. As to their appearance, the +mother wore a black woollen gown and mantle, and a black silk hood tied +under her chin, and sitting loosely round the stiff frame of her white +cap—a nun-like garb, save for the soft brown hair, parted over her brow, +and more visible than she sometimes thought correct, but her sons would +not let her wear it out of sight. + +The brothers had piece by piece surveyed the solitary suit of armour +remaining in the castle; but, though it might serve for defence, it could +not be made fit for display, and they must needs be contented with blue +cloth, spun, woven, dyed, fashioned, and sewn at home, chiefly by their +mother, and by her embroidered on the breast with the white eagle of +Adlerstein. Short blue cloaks and caps of the same, with an eagle plume +in each, and leggings neatly fashioned of deerskin, completed their +equipments. Ebbo wore his father’s sword, Friedel had merely a dagger +and crossbow. There was not a gold chain, not a brooch, not an approach +to an ornament among the three, except the medal that had always +distinguished Ebbo, and the coral rosary at Christina’s girdle. Her own +trinkets had gone in masses for the souls of her father and husband; and +though a few costly jewels had been found in Frau Kunigunde’s hoards, the +mode of their acquisition was so doubtful, that it had seemed fittest to +bestow them in alms and masses for the good of her soul. + +“What ornament, what glory could any one desire better than two such +sons?” thought Christina, as for the first time for eighteen years she +crossed the wild ravine where her father had led her, a trembling little +captive, longing for wings like a dove’s to flutter home again. Who +would then have predicted that she should descend after so long and weary +a time, and with a gallant boy on either side of her, eager to aid her +every step, and reassure her at each giddy pass, all joy and hope before +her and them? Yet she was not without some dread and misgiving, as she +watched her elder son, always attentive to her, but unwontedly silent, +with a stern gravity on his young brow, a proud sadness on his lip. And +when he had come to the Debateable Ford, and was about to pass the +boundaries of his own lands, he turned and gazed back on the castle and +mountain with a silent but passionate ardour, as though he felt himself +doing them a wrong by perilling their independence. + +The sun had lately set, and the moon was silvering the Danube, when the +travellers came full in view of the imperial free city, girt in with +mighty walls and towers—the vine-clad hill dominated by its crowning +church; the irregular outlines of the unfinished spire of the cathedral +traced in mysterious dark lacework against the pearly sky; the lofty +steeple-like gate-tower majestically guarding the bridge. Christina +clasped her hands in thankfulness, as at the familiar face of a friend; +Friedel glowed like a minstrel introduced to his fair dame, long wooed at +a distance; Ebbo could not but exclaim, “Yea, truly, a great city is a +solemn and a glorious sight!” + +The gates were closed, and the serving-men had to parley at the barbican +ere the heavy door was opened to admit the party to the bridge, between +deep battlemented stone walls, with here and there loopholes, showing the +shimmering of the river beneath. The slow, tired tread of the old mare +sounded hollow; the river rushed below with the full swell of evening +loudness; a deep-toned convent-bell tolled gravely through the stillness, +while, between its reverberations, clear, distinct notes of joyous music +were borne on the summer wind, and a nightingale sung in one of the +gardens that bordered the banks. + +“Mother, it is all that I dreamt!” breathlessly murmured Friedel, as they +halted under the dark arch of the great gateway tower. + +Not however in Friedel’s dreams had been the hearty voice that proceeded +from the lighted guard-room in the thickness of the gateway. +“Freiherrinn von Adlerstein! Is it she? Then must I greet my old +playmate!” And the captain of the watch appeared among upraised lanterns +and torches that showed a broad, smooth, plump face beneath a plain steel +helmet. + +“Welcome, gracious lady, welcome to your old city. What! do you not +remember Lippus Grundt, your poor Valentine?” + +“Master Philip Grundt!” exclaimed Christina, amazed at the breadth of +visage and person; “and how fares it with my good Regina?” + +“Excellent well, good lady. She manages her trade and house as well as +the good man Bartoläus Fleischer himself. Blithe will she be to show you +her goodly ten, as I shall my eight,” he continued, walking by her side; +“and Barbara—you remember Barbara Schmidt, lady—” + +“My dear Barbara?—That do I indeed! Is she your wife?” + +“Ay, truly, lady,” he answered, in an odd sort of apologetic tone; “you +see, you returned not, and the housefathers, they would have it so—and +Barbara is a good housewife.” + +“Truly do I rejoice!” said Christina, wishing she could convey to him how +welcome he had been to marry any one he liked, as far as she was +concerned—he, in whom her fears of mincing goldsmiths had always taken +form—then signing with her hand, “I have my sons likewise to show her.” + +“Ah, on foot!” muttered Grundt, as a not well-conceived apology for not +having saluted the young gentlemen. “I greet you well, sirs,” with a +bow, most haughtily returned by Ebbo, who was heartily wishing himself on +his mountain. “Two lusty, well-grown Junkern indeed, to whom my Martin +will be proud to show the humours of Ulm. A fair good night, lady! You +will find the old folks right cheery.” + +Well did Christina know the turn down the street, darkened by the +overhanging brows of the tall houses, but each lower window laughing with +the glow of light within that threw out the heavy mullions and the +circles and diamonds of the latticework, and here and there the brilliant +tints of stained glass sparkled like jewels in the upper panes, pictured +with Scripture scene, patron saint, or trade emblem. The familiar porch +was reached, the familiar knock resounded on the iron-studded door. +Friedel lifted his mother from her horse, and felt that she was quivering +from head to foot, and at the same moment the light streamed from the +open door on the white horse, and the two young faces, one eager, the +other with knit brows and uneasy eyes. A kind of echo pervaded the +house, “She is come! she is come!” and as one in a dream Christina +entered, crossed the well-known hall, looked up to her uncle and aunt on +the stairs, perceived little change on their countenances, and sank upon +her knees, with bowed head and clasped hands. + +“My child! my dear child!” exclaimed her uncle, raising her with one +hand, and crossing her brow in benediction with the other. “Art thou +indeed returned?” and he embraced her tenderly. + +“Welcome, fair niece!” said Hausfrau Johanna, more formally. “I am right +glad to greet you here.” + +“Dear, dear mother!” cried Christina, courting her fond embrace by +gestures of the most eager affection, “how have I longed for this moment! +and, above all, to show you my boys! Herr Uncle, let me present my +sons—my Eberhard, my Friedmund. O Housemother, are not my twins +well-grown lads?” And she stood with a hand on each, proud that their +heads were so far above her own, and looking still so slight and girlish +in figure that she might better have been their sister than their mother. +The cloud that the sudden light had revealed on Ebbo’s brow had cleared +away, and he made an inclination neither awkward nor ungracious in its +free mountain dignity and grace, but not devoid of mountain rusticity and +shy pride, and far less cordial than was Friedel’s manner. Both were +infinitely relieved to detect nothing of the greasy burgher, and were +greatly struck with the fine venerable head before them; indeed, Friedel +would, like his mother, have knelt to ask a blessing, had he not been +under command not to outrun his brother’s advances towards her kindred. + +“Welcome, fair Junkern!” said Master Gottfried; “welcome both for your +mother’s sake and your own! These thy sons, my little one?” he added, +smiling. “Art sure I neither dream nor see double! Come to the gallery, +and let me see thee better.” + +And, ceremoniously giving his hand, he proceeded to lead his niece up the +stairs, while Ebbo, labouring under ignorance of city forms and +uncertainty of what befitted his dignity, presented his hand to his aunt +with an air that half-amused, half-offended the shrewd dame. + +“All is as if I had left you but yesterday!” exclaimed Christina. +“Uncle, have you pardoned me? You bade me return when my work was done.” + +“I should have known better, child. Such return is not to be sought on +this side the grave. Thy work has been more than I then thought of.” + +“Ah! and now will you deem it begun—not done!” softly said Christina, +though with too much heartfelt exultation greatly to doubt that all the +world must be satisfied with two such boys, if only Ebbo would be his +true self. + +The luxury of the house, the wainscoted and tapestried walls, the +polished furniture, the lamps and candles, the damask linen, the rich +array of silver, pewter, and brightly-coloured glass, were a great +contrast to the bare walls and scant necessaries of Schloss Adlerstein; +but Ebbo was resolved not to expose himself by admiration, and did his +best to stifle Friedel’s exclamations of surprise and delight. Were not +these citizens to suppose that everything was tenfold more costly at the +baronial castle? And truly the boy deserved credit for the consideration +for his mother, which made him merely reserved, while he felt like a wild +eagle in a poultry-yard. It was no small proof of his affection to +forbear more interference with his mother’s happiness than was the +inevitable effect of that intuition which made her aware that he was +chafing and ill at ease. For his sake, she allowed herself to be placed +in the seat of honour, though she longed, as of old, to nestle at her +uncle’s feet, and be again his child; but, even while she felt each +acceptance of a token of respect as almost an injury to them, every look +and tone was showing how much the same Christina she had returned. + +In truth, though her life had been mournful and oppressed, it had not +been such as to age her early. It had been all submission, without wear +and tear of mind, and too simple in its trials for care and moiling; so +the fresh, lily-like sweetness of her maiden bloom was almost intact, +and, much as she had undergone, her once frail health had been so braced +by the mountain breezes, that, though delicacy remained, sickliness was +gone from her appearance. There was still the exquisite purity and +tender modesty of expression, but with greater sweetness in the pensive +brown eyes. + +“Ah, little one!” said her uncle, after duly contemplating her; “the +change is all for the better! Thou art grown a wondrously fair dame. +There will scarce be a lovelier in the Kaiserly train.” + +Ebbo almost pardoned his great-uncle for being his great-uncle. + +“When she is arrayed as becomes the Frau Freiherrinn,” said the housewife +aunt, looking with concern at the coarse texture of her black sleeve. “I +long to see our own lady ruffle it in her new gear. I am glad that the +lofty pointed cap has passed out; the coif becomes my child far better, +and I see our tastes still accord as to fashion.” + +“Fashion scarce came above the Debateable Ford,” said Christina, smiling. +“I fear my boys look as if they came out of the _Weltgeschichte_, for I +could only shape their garments after my remembrance of the gallants of +eighteen years ago.” + +“Their garments are your own shaping!” exclaimed the aunt, now in an +accent of real, not conventional respect. + +“Spinning and weaving, shaping and sewing,” said Friedel, coming near to +let the housewife examine the texture. + +“Close woven, even threaded, smooth tinted! Ah, Stina, thou didst learn +something! Thou wert not quite spoilt by the housefather’s books and +carvings.” + +“I cannot tell whose teachings have served me best, or been the most +precious to me,” said Christina, with clasped hands, looking from one to +another with earnest love. + +“Thou art a good child. Ah! little one, forgive me; you look so like our +child that I cannot bear in mind that you are the Frau Freiherrinn.” + +“Nay, I should deem myself in disgrace with you, did you keep me at a +distance, and not _thou_ me, as your little Stina,” she fondly answered, +half regretting her fond eager movement, as Ebbo seemed to shrink +together with a gesture perceived by her uncle. + +“It is my young lord there who would not forgive the freedom,” he said, +good-humouredly, though gravely. + +“Not so,” Ebbo forced himself to say; “not so, if it makes my mother +happy.” + +He held up his head rather as if he thought it a fool’s paradise, but +Master Gottfried answered: “The noble Freiherr is, from all I have heard, +too good a son to grudge his mother’s duteous love even to burgher +kindred.” + +There was something in the old man’s frank, dignified tone of grave +reproof that at once impressed Ebbo with a sense of the true superiority +of that wise and venerable old age to his own petulant baronial +self-assertion. He had both head and heart to feel the burgher’s +victory, and with a deep blush, though not without dignity, he answered, +“Truly, sir, my mother has ever taught us to look up to you as her +kindest and best—” + +He was going to say “friend,” but a look into the grand benignity of the +countenance completed the conquest, and he turned it into “father.” +Friedel at the same instant bent his knee, exclaiming, “It is true what +Ebbo says! We have both longed for this day. Bless us, honoured uncle, +as you have blessed my mother.” + +For in truth there was in the soul of the boy, who had never had any but +women to look up to, a strange yearning towards reverence, which was +called into action with inexpressible force by the very aspect and tone +of such a sage elder and counsellor as Master Gottfried Sorel, and he +took advantage of the first opening permitted by his brother. And the +sympathy always so strong between the two quickened the like feeling in +Ebbo, so that the same movement drew him on his knee beside Friedel in +oblivion or renunciation of all lordly pride towards a kinsman such as he +had here encountered. + +“Truly and heartily, my fair youths,” said Master Gottfried, with the +same kind dignity, “do I pray the good God to bless you, and render you +faithful and loving sons, not only to your mother, but to your +fatherland.” + +He was unable to distinguish between the two exactly similar forms that +knelt before him, yet there was something in the quivering of Friedel’s +head, which made him press it with a shade more of tenderness than the +other. And in truth tears were welling into the eyes veiled by the +fingers that Friedel clasped over his face, for such a blessing was +strange and sweet to him. + +Their mother was ready to weep for joy. There was now no drawback to her +bliss, since her son and her uncle had accepted one another; and she +repaired to her own beloved old chamber a happier being than she had been +since she had left its wainscoted walls. + +Nay, as she gazed out at the familiar outlines of roof and tower, and +felt herself truly at home, then knelt by the little undisturbed altar of +her devotions, with the cross above and her own patron saint below in +carved wood, and the flowers which the good aunt had ever kept as a +freshly renewed offering, she felt that she was happier, more fully +thankful and blissful than even in the girlish calm of her untroubled +life. Her prayer that she might come again in peace had been more than +fulfilled; nay, when she had seen her boys kneel meekly to receive her +uncle’s blessing, it was in some sort to her as if the work was done, as +if the millstone had been borne up for her, and had borne her and her +dear ones with it. + +But there was much to come. She knew full well that, even though her +sons’ first step had been in the right direction, it was in a path beset +with difficulties; and how would her proud Ebbo meet them? + + + + +CHAPTER XIII +THE EAGLETS IN THE CITY + + +AFTER having once accepted Master Gottfried, Ebbo froze towards him and +Dame Johanna no more, save that a naturally imperious temper now and then +led to fitful stiffnesses and momentary haughtiness, which were easily +excused in one so new to the world and afraid of compromising his rank. +In general he could afford to enjoy himself with a zest as hearty as that +of the simpler-minded Friedel. + +They were early afoot, but not before the heads of the household were +coming forth for the morning devotions at the cathedral; and the streets +were stirring into activity, and becoming so peopled that the boys +supposed that it was a great fair day. They had never seen so many +people together even at the Friedmund Wake, and it was several days +before they ceased to exclaim at every passenger as a new curiosity. + +The Dome Kirk awed and hushed them. They had looked to it so long that +perhaps no sublunary thing could have realized their expectations, and +Friedel avowed that he did not know what he thought of it. It was not +such as he had dreamt, and, like a German as he was, he added that he +could not think, he could only feel, that there was something ineffable +in it; yet he was almost disappointed to find his visions unfulfilled, +and the hues of the painted glass less pure and translucent than those of +the ice crystals on the mountains. However after his eye had become +trained, the deep influence of its dim solemn majesty, and of the echoes +of its organ tones, and chants of high praise or earnest prayer, began to +enchain his spirit; and, if ever he were missing, he was sure to be found +among the mysteries of the cathedral aisles, generally with Ebbo, who +felt the spell of the same grave fascination, since whatever was true of +the one brother was generally true of the other. They were essentially +alike, though some phases of character and taste were more developed in +the one or the other. + +Master Gottfried was much edified by their perfect knowledge of the names +and numbers of his books. They instantly, almost resentfully, missed the +Cicero’s _Offices_ that he had parted with, and joyfully hailed his new +acquisitions, often sitting with heads together over the same book, +reading like active-minded youths who were used to out-of-door life and +exercise in superabundant measure, and to study as a valued recreation, +with only food enough for the intellect to awaken instead of satisfying +it. + +They were delighted to obtain instruction from a travelling student, then +attending the schools of Ulm—a meek, timid lad who, for love of learning +and desire of the priesthood, had endured frightful tyranny from the +Bacchanten or elder scholars, and, having at length attained that rank, +had so little heart to retaliate on the juniors that his contemporaries +despised him, and led him a cruel life until he obtained food and shelter +from Master Gottfried at the pleasant cost of lessons to the young +Barons. Poor Bastien! this land of quiet, civility, and books was a +foretaste of Paradise to him after the hard living, barbarity, and coarse +vices of his comrades, of whom he now and then disclosed traits that made +his present pupils long to give battle to the big shaggy youths who used +to send out the lesser lads to beg and steal for them, and cruelly +maltreated such as failed in the quest. + +Lessons in music and singing were gladly accepted by both lads, and from +their uncle’s carving they could not keep their hands. Ebbo had begun by +enjoining Friedel to remember that the work that had been sport in the +mountains would be basely mechanical in the city, and Friedel as usual +yielded his private tastes; but on the second day Ebbo himself was +discovered in the workshop, watching the magic touch of the deft workman, +and he was soon so enticed by the perfect appliances as to take tool in +hand and prove himself not unadroit in the craft. Friedel however +excelled in delicacy of touch and grace and originality of conception, +and produced such workmanship that Master Gottfried could not help +stroking his hair and telling him it was a pity he was not born to belong +to the guild. + +“I cannot spare him, sir,” cried Ebbo; “priest, scholar, minstrel, +artist—all want him.” + +“What, Hans of all streets, Ebbo?” interrupted Friedel. + +“And guildmaster of none,” said Ebbo, “save as a warrior; the rest only +enough for a gentleman! For what I am thou must be!” + +But Ebbo did not find fault with the skill Friedel was bestowing on his +work—a carving in wood of a dove brooding over two young eagles—the +device that both were resolved to assume. When their mother asked what +their lady-loves would say to this, Ebbo looked up, and with the fullest +conviction in his lustrous eyes declared that no love should ever rival +his motherling in his heart. For truly her tender sweetness had given +her sons’ affection a touch of romance, for which Master Gottfried liked +them the better, though his wife thought their familiarity with her +hardly accordant with the patriarchal discipline of the citizens. + +The youths held aloof from these burghers, for Master Gottfried wisely +desired to give them time to be tamed before running risk of offence, +either to, or by, their wild shy pride; and their mother contrived to +time her meetings with her old companions when her sons were otherwise +occupied. Master Gottfried made it known that the marriage portion he +had designed for his niece had been intrusted to a merchant trading in +peltry to Muscovy, and the sum thus realized was larger than any bride +had yet brought to Adlerstein. Master Gottfried would have liked to +continue the same profitable speculations with it; but this would have +been beyond the young Baron’s endurance, and his eyes sparkled when his +mother spoke of repairing the castle, refitting the chapel, having a +resident chaplain, cultivating more land, increasing the scanty stock of +cattle, and attempting the improvements hitherto prevented by lack of +means. He fervently declared that the motherling was more than equal to +the wise spinning Queen Bertha of legend and lay; and the first pleasant +sense of wealth came in the acquisition of horses, weapons, and +braveries. In his original mood, Ebbo would rather have stood before the +Diet in his home-spun blue than have figured in cloth of gold at a +burgher’s expense; but he had learned to love his uncle, he regarded the +marriage portion as family property, and moreover he sorely longed to +feel himself and his brother well mounted, and scarcely less to see his +mother in a velvet gown. + +Here was his chief point of sympathy with the housemother, who, herself +precluded from wearing miniver, velvet, or pearls, longed to deck her +niece therewith, in time to receive Sir Kasimir of Adlerstein +Wildschloss, as he had promised to meet his godsons at Ulm. The knight’s +marriage had lasted only a few years, and had left him no surviving +children except one little daughter, whom he had placed in a nunnery at +Ulm, under the care of her mother’s sister. His lands lay higher up the +Danube, and he was expected at Ulm shortly before the Emperor’s arrival. +He had been chiefly in Flanders with the King of the Romans, and had only +returned to Germany when the Netherlanders had refused the regency of +Maximilian, and driven him out of their country, depriving him of the +custody of his children. + +Pfingsttag, or Pentecost-day, was the occasion of Christina’s first full +toilet, and never was bride more solicitously or exultingly arrayed than +she, while one boy held the mirror and the other criticized and admired +as the aunt adjusted the pearl-bordered coif, and long white veil +floating over the long-desired black velvet dress. How the two lads +admired and gazed, caring far less for their own new and noble attire! +Friedel was indeed somewhat concerned that the sword by his side was so +much handsomer than that which Ebbo wore, and which, for all its dinted +scabbard and battered hilt, he was resolved never to discard. + +It was a festival of brilliant joy. Wreaths of flowers hung from the +windows; rich tapestries decked the Dome Kirk, and the relics were +displayed in shrines of wonderful costliness of material and beauty of +workmanship; little birds, with thin cakes fastened to their feet, were +let loose to fly about the church, in strange allusion to the event of +the day; the clergy wore their most gorgeous robes; and the exulting +music of the mass echoed from the vaults of the long-drawn aisles, and +brought a rapt look of deep calm ecstasy over Friedel’s sensitive +features. The beggars evidently considered a festival as a harvest-day, +and crowded round the doors of the cathedral. As the Lady of Adlerstein +came out leaning on Ebbo’s arm, with Friedel on her other side, they +evidently attracted the notice of a woman whose thin brown face looked +the darker for the striped red and yellow silk kerchief that bound the +dark locks round her brow, as, holding out a beringed hand, she fastened +her glittering jet black eyes on them, and exclaimed, “Alms! if the fair +dame and knightly Junkern would hear what fate has in store for them.” + +“We meddle not with the future, I thank thee,” said Christina, seeing +that her sons, to whom gipsies were an amazing novelty, were in extreme +surprise at the fortune-telling proposal. + +“Yet could I tell much, lady,” said the woman, still standing in the way. +“What would some here present give to know that the locks that were +shrouded by the widow’s veil ere ever they wore the matron’s coif shall +yet return to the coif once more?” + +Ebbo gave a sudden start of dismay and passion; his mother held him fast. +“Push on, Ebbo, mine; heed her not; she is a mere Bohemian.” + +“But how knew she your history, mother?” asked Friedel, eagerly. + +“That might be easily learnt at our Wake,” began Christina; but her steps +were checked by a call from Master Gottfried just behind. “Frau +Freiherrinn, Junkern, not so fast. Here is your noble kinsman.” + +A tall, fine-looking person, in the long rich robe worn on peaceful +occasions, stood forth, doffing his eagle-plumed bonnet, and, as the lady +turned and curtsied low, he put his knee to the ground and kissed her +hand, saying, “Well met, noble dame; I felt certain that I knew you when +I beheld you in the Dome.” + +“He was gazing at her all the time,” whispered Ebbo to his brother; while +their mother, blushing, replied, “You do me too much honour, Herr +Freiherr.” + +“Once seen, never to be forgotten,” was the courteous answer: “and truly, +but for the stately height of these my godsons I would not believe how +long since our meeting was.” + +Thereupon, in true German fashion, Sir Kasimir embraced each youth in the +open street, and then, removing his long, embroidered Spanish glove, he +offered his hand, or rather the tips of his fingers, to lead the Frau +Christina home. + +Master Sorel had invited him to become his guest at a very elaborate +ornamental festival meal in honour of the great holiday, at which were to +be present several wealthy citizens with their wives and families, old +connections of the Sorel family. Ebbo had resolved upon treating them +with courteous reserve and distance; but he was surprised to find his +cousin of Wildschloss comporting himself among the burgomasters and their +dames as freely as though they had been his equals, and to see that they +took such demeanour as perfectly natural. Quick to perceive, the boy +gathered that the gulf between noble and burgher was so great that no +intimacy could bridge it over, no reserve widen it, and that his own +bashful hauteur was almost a sign that he knew that the gulf had been +passed by his own parents; but shame and consciousness did not enable him +to alter his manner but rather added to its stiffness. + +“The Junker is like an Englishman,” said Sir Kasimir, who had met many of +the exiles of the Roses at the court of Mary of Burgundy; and then he +turned to discuss with the guildmasters the interruption to trade caused +by Flemish jealousies. + +After the lengthy meal, the tables were removed, the long gallery was +occupied by musicians, and Master Gottfried crossed the hall to tell his +eldest grandnephew that to him he should depute the opening of the dance +with the handsome bride of the Rathsherr, Ulrich Burger. Ebbo blushed up +to the eyes, and muttered that he prayed his uncle to excuse him. + +“So!” said the old citizen, really displeased; “thy kinsman might have +proved to thee that it is no derogation of thy lordly dignity. I have +been patient with thee, but thy pride passes—” + +“Sir,” interposed Friedel hastily, raising his sweet candid face with a +look between shame and merriment, “it is not that; but you forget what +poor mountaineers we are. Never did we tread a measure save now and then +with our mother on a winter evening, and we know no more than a chamois +of your intricate measures.” + +Master Gottfried looked perplexed, for these dances were matters of great +punctilio. It was but seven years since the Lord of Praunstein had +defied the whole city of Frankfort because a damsel of that place had +refused to dance with one of his Cousins; and, though “Fistright” and +letters of challenge had been made illegal, yet the whole city of Ulm +would have resented the affront put on it by the young lord of +Adlerstein. Happily the Freiherr of Adlerstein Wildschloss was at hand. +“Herr Burgomaster,” he said, “let me commence the dance with your fair +lady niece. By your testimony,” he added, smiling to the youths, “she +can tread a measure. And, after marking us, you may try your success +with the Rathsherrinn.” + +Christina would gladly have transferred her noble partner to the +Rathsherrinn, but she feared to mortify her good uncle and aunt further, +and consented to figure alone with Sir Kasimir in one of the majestic, +graceful dances performed by a single couple before a gazing assembly. +So she let him lead her to her place, and they bowed and bent, swept past +one another, and moved in interlacing lines and curves, with a grand slow +movement that displayed her quiet grace and his stately port and courtly +air. + +“Is it not beautiful to see the motherling?” said Friedel to his brother; +“she sails like a white cloud in a soft wind. And he stands grand as a +stag at gaze.” + +“Like a malapert peacock, say I,” returned Ebbo; “didst not see, Friedel, +how he kept his eyes on her in church? My uncle says the Bohemians are +mere deceivers. Depend on it the woman had spied his insolent looks when +she made her ribald prediction.” + +“See,” said Friedel, who had been watching the steps rather than +attending, “it will be easy to dance it now. It is a figure my mother +once tried to teach us. I remember it now.” + +“Then go and do it, since better may not be.” + +“Nay, but it should be thou.” + +“Who will know which of us it is? I hated his presumption too much to +mark his antics.” + +Friedel came forward, and the substitution was undetected by all save +their mother and uncle; by the latter only because, addressing Ebbo, he +received a reply in a tone such as Friedel never used. + +Natural grace, quickness of ear and eye, and a skilful partner, rendered +Friedel’s so fair a performance that he ventured on sending his brother +to attend the councilloress with wine and comfits; while he in his own +person performed another dance with the city dame next in pretension, and +their mother was amused by Sir Kasimir’s remark, that her second son +danced better than the elder, but both must learn. + +The remark displeased Ebbo. In his isolated castle he knew no superior, +and his nature might yield willingly, but rebelled at being put down. +His brother was his perfect equal in all mental and bodily attributes, +but it was the absence of all self-assertion that made Ebbo so often give +him the preference; it was his mother’s tender meekness in which lay her +power with him; and if he yielded to Gottfried Sorel’s wisdom and +experience, it was with the inward consciousness of voluntary deference +to one of lower rank. But here was Wildschloss, of the same noble blood +with himself, his elder, his sponsor, his protector, with every right to +direct him, so that there was no choice between grateful docility and +headstrong folly. If the fellow had been old, weak, or in any way +inferior, it would have been more bearable; but he was a tried warrior, a +sage counsellor, in the prime vigour of manhood, and with a kindly +reasonable authority to which only a fool could fail to attend, and which +for that very reason chafed Ebbo excessively. + +Moreover there was the gipsy prophecy ever rankling in the lad’s heart, +and embittering to him the sight of every civility from his kinsman to +his mother. Sir Kasimir lodged at a neighbouring hostel; but he spent +much time with his cousins, and tried to make them friends with his +squire, Count Rudiger. A great offence to Ebbo was however the +criticisms of both knight and squire on the bearing of the young Barons +in military exercises. Truly, with no instructor but the rough +lanzknecht Heinz, they must, as Friedel said, have been born paladins to +have equalled youths whose life had been spent in chivalrous training. + +“See us in a downright fight,” said Ebbo; “we could strike as hard as any +courtly minion.” + +“As hard, but scarce as dexterously,” said Friedel, “and be called for +our pains the wild mountaineers. I heard the men-at-arms saying I sat my +horse as though it were always going up or down a precipice; and Master +Schmidt went into his shop the other day shrugging his shoulders, and +saying we hailed one another across the market-place as if we thought Ulm +was a mountain full of gemsbocks.” + +“Thou heardst! and didst not cast his insolence in his teeth?” cried +Ebbo. + +“How could I,” laughed Friedel, “when the echo was casting back in my +teeth my own shout to thee? I could only laugh with Rudiger.” + +“The chief delight I could have, next to getting home, would be to lay +that fellow Rudiger on his back in the tilt-yard,” said Ebbo. + +But, as Rudiger was by four years his senior, and very expert, the upshot +of these encounters was quite otherwise, and the young gentlemen were +disabused of the notion that fighting came by nature, and found that, if +they desired success in a serious conflict, they must practise diligently +in the city tilt-yard, where young men were trained to arms. The +crossbow was the only weapon with which they excelled; and, as shooting +was a favourite exercise of the burghers, their proficiency was not as +exclusive as had seemed to Ebbo a baronial privilege. Harquebuses were +novelties to them, and they despised them as burgher weapons, in spite of +Sir Kasimir’s assurance that firearms were a great subject of study and +interest to the King of the Romans. The name of this personage was, it +may be feared, highly distasteful to the Freiherr von Adlerstein, both as +Wildschloss’s model of knightly perfection, and as one who claimed +submission from his haughty spirit. When Sir Kasimir spoke to him on the +subject of giving his allegiance, he stiffly replied, “Sir, that is a +question for ripe consideration.” + +“It is the question,” said Wildschloss, rather more lightly than agreed +with the Baron’s dignity, “whether you like to have your castle pulled +down about your ears.” + +“That has never happened yet to Adlerstein!” said Ebbo, proudly. + +“No, because since the days of the Hohenstaufen there has been neither +rule nor union in the empire. But times are changing fast, my Junker, +and within the last ten years forty castles such as yours have been +consumed by the Swabian League, as though they were so many walnuts.” + +“The shell of Adlerstein was too hard for them, though. They never +tried.” + +“And wherefore, friend Eberhard? It was because I represented to the +Kaiser and the Graf von Wurtemberg that little profit and no glory would +accrue from attacking a crag full of women and babes, and that I, having +the honour to be your next heir, should prefer having the castle +untouched, and under the peace of the empire, so long as that peace was +kept. When you should come to years of discretion, then it would be for +you to carry out the intention wherewith your father and grandfather left +home.” + +“Then we have been protected by the peace of the empire all this time?” +said Friedel, while Ebbo looked as if the notion were hard of digestion. + +“Even so; and, had you not freely and nobly released your Genoese +merchant, it had gone hard with Adlerstein.” + +“Could Adlerstein be taken?” demanded Ebbo triumphantly. + +“Your grandmother thought not,” said Sir Kasimir, with a shade of irony +in his tone. “It would be a troublesome siege; but the League numbers +1,500 horse, and 9,000 foot, and, with Schlangenwald’s concurrence, you +would be assuredly starved out.” + +Ebbo was so much the more stimulated to take his chance, and do nothing +on compulsion; but Friedel put in the question to what the oaths would +bind them. + +“Only to aid the Emperor with sword and counsel in field or Diet, and +thereby win fame and honour such as can scarce be gained by carrying prey +to yon eagle roost.” + +“One may preserve one’s independence without robbery,” said Ebbo coldly. + +“Nay, lad: did you ever hear of a wolf that could live without marauding? +Or if he tried, would he get credit for so doing?” + +“After all,” said Friedel, “does not the present agreement hold till we +are of age? I suppose the Swabian League would attempt nothing against +minors, unless we break the peace?” + +“Probably not; I will do my utmost to give the Freiherr there time to +grow beyond his grandmother’s maxims,” said Wildschloss. “If +Schlangenwald do not meddle in the matter, he may have the next five +years to decide whether Adlerstein can hold out against all Germany.” + +“Freiherr Kasimir von Adlerstein Wildschloss,” said Eberhard, turning +solemnly on him, “I do you to wit once for all that threats will not +serve with me. If I submit, it will be because I am convinced it is +right. Otherwise we had rather both be buried in the ruins of our +castle, as its last free lords.” + +“So!” said the provoking kinsman; “such burials look grim when the time +comes, but happily it is not coming yet!” + +Meantime, as Ebbo said to Friedel, how much might happen—a disruption of +the empire, a crusade against the Turks, a war in Italy, some grand means +of making the Diet value the sword of a free baron, without chaining him +down to gratify the greed of hungry Austria. If only Wildschloss could +be shaken off! But he only became constantly more friendly and +intrusive, almost paternal. No wonder, when the mother and her uncle +made him so welcome, and were so intolerably grateful for his impertinent +interference, while even Friedel confessed the reasonableness of his +counsels, as if that were not the very sting of them. + +He even asked leave to bring his little daughter Thekla from her convent +to see the Lady of Adlerstein. She was a pretty, flaxen-haired maiden of +five years old, in a round cap, and long narrow frock, with a little +cross at the neck. She had never seen any one beyond the walls of the +nunnery; and, when her father took her from the lay sister’s arms, and +carried her to the gallery, where sat Hausfrau Johanna, in dark green, +slashed with cherry colour, Master Gottfried, in sober crimson, with gold +medal and chain, Freiherrinn Christina, in silver-broidered black, and +the two Junkern stood near in the shining mail in which they were going +to the tilt yard, she turned her head in terror, struggled with her +scarce known father, and shrieked for Sister Grethel. + +“It was all too sheen,” she sobbed, in the lay sister’s arms; “she did +not want to be in Paradise yet, among the saints! O! take her back! The +two bright, holy Michaels would let her go, for indeed she had made but +one mistake in her Ave.” + +Vain was the attempt to make her lift her face from the black serge +shoulder where she had hidden it. Sister Grethel coaxed and scolded, Sir +Kasimir reproved, the housemother offered comfits, and Christina’s soft +voice was worst of all, for the child, probably taking her for Our Lady +herself, began to gasp forth a general confession. “I will never do so +again! Yes, it was a fib, but Mother Hildegard gave me a bit of +marchpane not to tell—” Here the lay sister took strong measures for +closing the little mouth, and Christina drew back, recommending that the +child should be left gradually to discover their terrestrial nature. +Ebbo had looked on with extreme disgust, trying to hurry Friedel, who had +delayed to trace some lines for his mother on her broidery pattern. In +passing the step where Grethel sat with Thekla on her lap, the clank of +their armour caused the uplifting of the little flaxen head, and two wide +blue eyes looked over Grethel’s shoulder, and met Friedel’s sunny glance. +He smiled; she laughed back again. He held out his arms, and, though his +hands were gauntleted, she let him lift her up, and curiously smoothed +and patted his cheek, as if he had been a strange animal. + +“You have no wings,” she said. “Are you St. George, or St. Michael?” + +“Neither the one nor the other, pretty one. Only your poor cousin +Friedel von Adlerstein, and here is Ebbo, my brother.” + +It was not in Ebbo’s nature not to smile encouragement at the fair little +face, with its wistful look. He drew off his glove to caress her silken +hair, and for a few minutes she was played with by the two brothers like +a newly-invented toy, receiving their attentions with pretty +half-frightened graciousness, until Count Rudiger hastened in to summon +them, and Friedel placed her on his mother’s knee, where she speedily +became perfectly happy, and at ease. + +Her extreme delight, when towards evening the Junkern returned, was +flattering even to Ebbo; and, when it was time for her to be taken home, +she made strong resistance, clinging fast to Christina, with screams and +struggles. To the lady’s promise of coming to see her she replied, +“Friedel and Ebbo, too,” and, receiving no response to this request, she +burst out, “Then I won’t come! I am the Freiherrinn Thekla, the heiress +of Adlerstein Wildschloss and Felsenbach. I won’t be a nun. I’ll be +married! You shall be my husband,” and she made a dart at the nearest +youth, who happened to be Ebbo. + +“Ay, ay, you shall have him. He will come for you, sweetest Fraulein,” +said the perplexed Grethel, “so only you will come home! Nobody will +come for you if you are naughty.” + +“Will you come if I am good?” said the spoilt cloister pet, clinging +tight to Ebbo. + +“Yes,” said her father, as she still resisted, “come back, my child, and +one day shall you see Ebbo, and have him for a brother.” + +Thereat Ebbo shook off the little grasping fingers, almost as if they had +belonged to a noxious insect. + +“The matron’s coif should succeed the widow’s veil.” He might talk with +scholarly contempt of the new race of Bohemian impostors; but there was +no forgetting that sentence. And in like manner, though his +grandmother’s allegation that his mother had been bent on captivating Sir +Kasimir in that single interview at Adlerstein, had always seemed to him +the most preposterous of all Kunigunde’s forms of outrage, the +recollection would recur to him; and he could have found it in his heart +to wish that his mother had never heard of the old lady’s designs as to +the oubliette. He did most sincerely wish Master Gottfried had never let +Wildschloss know of the mode in which his life had been saved. Yet, +while it would have seemed to him profane to breathe even to Friedel the +true secret of his repugnance to this meddlesome kinsman, it was +absolutely impossible to avoid his most distasteful authority and +patronage. + +And the mother herself was gently, thankfully happy and unsuspicious, +basking in the tender home affection of which she had so long been +deprived, proud of her sons, and, though anxious as to Ebbo’s decision, +with a quiet trust in his foundation of principle, and above all trusting +to prayer. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV +THE DOUBLE-HEADED EAGLE + + +ONE summer evening, when shooting at a bird on a pole was in full +exercise in the tilt-yard, the sports were interrupted by a message from +the Provost that a harbinger had brought tidings that the Imperial court +was within a day’s journey. + +All was preparation. Fresh sand had to be strewn on the arena. New +tapestry hangings were to deck the galleries, the houses and balconies to +be brave with drapery, the fountain in the market-place was to play Rhine +wine, all Ulm was astir to do honour to itself and to the Kaisar, and +Ebbo stood amid all the bustle, drawing lines in the sand with the stock +of his arblast, subject to all that oppressive self-magnification so +frequent in early youth, and which made it seem to him as if the Kaisar +and the King of the Romans were coming to Ulm with the mere purpose of +destroying his independence, and as if the eyes of all Germany were +watching for his humiliation. + +“See! see!” suddenly exclaimed Friedel; “look! there is something among +the tracery of the Dome Kirk Tower. Is it man or bird?” + +“Bird, folly! Thou couldst see no bird less than an eagle from hence,” +said Ebbo. “No doubt they are about to hoist a banner.” + +“That is not their wont,” returned Sir Kasimir. + +“I see him,” interrupted Ebbo. “Nay, but he is a bold climber! We went +up to that stage, close to the balcony, but there’s no footing beyond but +crockets and canopies.” + +“And a bit of rotten scaffold,” added Friedel. “Perhaps he is a builder +going to examine it! Up higher, higher!” + +“A builder!” said Ebbo; “a man with a head and foot like that should be a +chamois hunter! Shouldst thou deem it worse than the Red Eyrie, +Friedel?” + +“Yea, truly! The depth beneath is plainer! There would be no climbing +there without—” + +“Without what, cousin?” asked Wildschloss. + +“Without great cause,” said Friedel. “It is fearful! He is like a fly +against the sky.” + +“Beaten again!” muttered Ebbo; “I did think that none of these town-bred +fellows could surpass us when it came to a giddy height! Who can he be?” + +“Look! look!” burst out Friedel. “The saints protect him! He is on that +narrowest topmost ledge—measuring; his heel is over the parapet—half his +foot!” + +“Holding on by the rotten scaffold pole! St. Barbara be his speed; but +he is a brave man!” shouted Ebbo. “Oh! the pole has broken.” + +“Heaven forefend!” cried Wildschloss, with despair on his face unseen by +the boys, for Friedel had hidden his eyes, and Ebbo was straining his +with the intense gaze of horror. He had carried his glance downwards, +following the 380 feet fall that must be the lot of the adventurer. Then +looking up again he shouted, “I see him! I see him! Praise to St. +Barbara! He is safe! He has caught by the upright stone work.” + +“Where? where? Show me!” cried Wildschloss, grasping Ebbo’s arm. + +“There! clinging to that upright bit of tracery, stretching his foot out +to yonder crocket.” + +“I cannot see. Mine eyes swim and dazzle,” said Wildschloss. “Merciful +heavens! is this another tempting of Providence? How is it with him now, +Ebbo?” + +“Swarming down another slender bit of the stone network. It must be easy +now to one who could keep head and hand steady in such a shock.” + +“There!” added Friedel, after a breathless space, “he is on the lower +parapet, whence begins the stair. Do you know him, sir? Who is he?” + +“Either a Venetian mountebank,” said Wildschloss, “or else there is only +one man I know of either so foolhardy or so steady of head.” + +“Be he who he may,” said Ebbo, “he is the bravest man that ever I beheld. +Who is he, Sir Kasimir?” + +“An eagle of higher flight than ours, no doubt,” said Wildschloss. “But +come; we shall reach the Dome Kirk by the time the climber has wound his +way down the turret stairs, and we shall see what like he is.” + +Their coming was well timed, for a small door at the foot of the tower +was just opening to give exit to a very tall knight, in one of those +short Spanish cloaks the collar of which could be raised so as to conceal +the face. He looked to the right and left, and had one hand raised to +put up the collar when he recognized Sir Kasimir, and, holding out both +hands, exclaimed, “Ha, Adlerstein! well met! I looked to see thee here. +No unbonneting; I am not come yet. I am at Strasburg, with the Kaisar +and the Archduke, and am not here till we ride in, in purple and in pall +by the time the good folk have hung out their arras, and donned their +gold chains, and conned their speeches, and mounted their mules.” + +“Well that their speeches are not over the lykewake of his kingly +kaisarly highness,” gravely returned Sir Kasimir. + +“Ha! Thou sawest? I came out here to avoid the gaping throng, who don’t +know what a hunter can do. I have been in worse case in the Tyrol. +Snowdrifts are worse footing than stone vine leaves.” + +“Where abides your highness?” asked Wildschloss. + +“I ride back again to the halting-place for the night, and meet my father +in time to do my part in the pageant. I was sick of the addresses, and, +moreover, the purse-proud Flemings have made such a stiff little fop of +my poor boy that I am ashamed to look at him, or hear his French accent. +So I rode off to get a view of this notable Dom in peace, ere it be +bedizened in holiday garb; and one can’t stir without all the Chapter +waddling after one.” + +“Your highness has found means of distancing them.” + +“Why, truly, the Prior would scarce delight in the view from yonder +parapet,” laughed his highness. “Ha! Adlerstein, where didst get such a +perfect pair of pages? I would I could match my hounds as well.” + +“They are no pages of mine, so please you,” said the knight; “rather this +is the head of my name. Let me present to your kingly highness the +Freiherr von Adlerstein.” + +“Thou dost not thyself distinguish between them!” said Maximilian, as +Friedmund stepped back, putting forward Eberhard, whose bright, lively +smile of interest and admiration had been the cause of his cousin’s +mistake. They would have doffed their caps and bent the knee, but were +hastily checked by Maximilian. “No, no, Junkern, I shall owe you no +thanks for bringing all the street on me!—that’s enough. Reserve the +rest for Kaisar Fritz.” Then, familiarly taking Sir Kasimir’s arm, he +walked on, saying, “I remember now. Thou wentest after an inheritance +from the old Mouser of the Debateable Ford, and wert ousted by a couple +of lusty boys sprung of a peasant wedlock.” + +“Nay, my lord, of a burgher lady, fair as she is wise and virtuous; who, +spite of all hindrances, has bred up these youths in all good and noble +nurture.” + +“Is this so?” said the king, turning sharp round on the twins. “Are ye +minded to quit freebooting, and come a crusading against the Turks with +me?” + +“Everywhere with such a leader!” enthusiastically exclaimed Ebbo. + +“What? up there?” said Maximilian, smiling. “Thou hast the tread of a +chamois-hunter.” + +“Friedel has been on the Red Eyrie,” exclaimed Ebbo; then, thinking he +had spoken foolishly, he coloured. + +“Which is the Red Eyrie?” good-humouredly asked the king. + +“It is the crag above our castle,” said Friedel, modestly. + +“None other has been there,” added Ebbo, perceiving his auditor’s +interest; “but he saw the eagle flying away with a poor widow’s kid, and +the sight must have given him wings, for we never could find the same +path; but here is one of the feathers he brought down”—taking off his cap +so as to show a feather rather the worse for wear, and sheltered behind a +fresher one. + +“Nay,” said Friedel, “thou shouldst say that I came to a ledge where I +had like to have stayed all night, but that ye all came out with men and +ropes.” + +“We know what such a case is!” said the king. “It has chanced to us to +hang between heaven and earth; I’ve even had the Holy Sacrament held up +for my last pious gaze by those who gave me up for lost on the +mountain-side. Adlerstein? The peak above the Braunwasser? Some day +shall ye show me this eyrie of yours, and we will see whether we can +amaze our cousins the eagles. We see you at our father’s court +to-morrow?” he graciously added, and Ebbo gave a ready bow of +acquiescence. + +“There,” said the king, as after their dismissal he walked on with Sir +Kasimir, “never blame me for rashness and imprudence. Here has this +height of the steeple proved the height of policy. It has made a loyal +subject of a Mouser on the spot.” + +“Pray Heaven it may have won a heart, true though proud!” said +Wildschloss; “but mousing was cured before by the wise training of the +mother. Your highness will have taken out the sting of submission, and +you will scarce find more faithful subjects.” + +“How old are the Junkern?” + +“Some sixteen years, your highness.” + +“That is what living among mountains does for a lad. Why could not those +thrice-accursed Flemish towns let me breed up my boy to be good for +something in the mountains, instead of getting duck-footed and +muddy-witted in the fens?” + +In the meantime Ebbo and Friedel were returning home in that sort of +passion of enthusiasm that ingenuous boyhood feels when first brought +into contact with greatness or brilliant qualities. + +And brilliance was the striking point in Maximilian. The Last of the +Knights, in spite of his many defects, was, by personal qualities, and +the hereditary influence of long-descended rank, verily a king of men in +aspect and demeanour, even when most careless and simple. He was at this +time a year or two past thirty, unusually tall, and with a form at once +majestic and full of vigour and activity; a noble, fair, though sunburnt +countenance; eyes of dark gray, almost black; long fair hair, a keen +aquiline nose, a lip only beginning to lengthen to the characteristic +Austrian feature, an expression always lofty, sometimes dreamy, and yet +at the same time full of acuteness and humour. His abilities were of the +highest order, his purposes, especially at this period of his life, most +noble and becoming in the first prince of Christendom; and, if his life +were a failure, and his reputation unworthy of his endowments, the cause +seems to have been in great measure the bewilderment and confusion that +unusual gifts sometimes cause to their possessor, whose sight their +conflicting illumination dazzles so as to impair his steadiness of aim, +while their contending gleams light him into various directions, so that +one object is deserted for another ere its completion. Thus Maximilian +cuts a figure in history far inferior to that made by his grandson, +Charles V., whom he nevertheless excelled in every personal quality, +except the most needful of all, force of character; and, in like manner, +his remote descendant, the narrow-minded Ferdinand of Styria, gained his +ends, though the able and brilliant Joseph II. was to die broken-hearted, +calling his reign a failure and mistake. However, such terms as these +could not be applied to Maximilian with regard to home affairs. He has +had hard measure from those who have only regarded his vacillating +foreign policy, especially with respect to Italy—ever the temptation and +the bane of Austria; but even here much of his uncertain conduct was +owing to the unfulfilled promises of what he himself called his “realm of +kings,” and a sovereign can only justly be estimated by his domestic +policy. The contrast of the empire before his time with the subsequent +Germany is that of chaos with order. Since the death of Friedrich II. +the Imperial title had been a mockery, making the prince who chanced to +bear it a mere mark for the spite of his rivals; there was no centre of +justice, no appeal; everybody might make war on everybody, with the sole +preliminary of exchanging a challenge; “fist-right” was the acknowledged +law of the land; and, except in the free cities, and under such a happy +accident as a right-minded prince here and there, the state of Germany +seems to have been rather worse than that of Scotland from Bruce to the +union of the Crowns. Under Maximilian, the Diet became an effective +council, fist-right was abolished, independent robber-lords put down, +civilization began to effect an entrance, the system of circles was +arranged, and the empire again became a leading power in Europe, instead +of a mere vortex of disorder and misrule. Never would Charles V. have +held the position he occupied had he come after an ordinary man, instead +of after an able and sagacious reformer like that Maximilian who is +popularly regarded as a fantastic caricature of a knight-errant, marred +by avarice and weakness of purpose. + +At the juncture of which we are writing, none of Maximilian’s less worthy +qualities had appeared; he had not been rendered shifty and unscrupulous +by difficulties and disappointments in money matters, and had not found +it impossible to keep many of the promises he had given in all good +faith. He stood forth as the hope of Germany, in salient contrast to the +feeble and avaricious father, who was felt to be the only obstacle in the +way of his noble designs of establishing peace and good discipline in the +empire, and conducting a general crusade against the Turks, whose +progress was the most threatening peril of Christendom. His fame was, of +course, frequently discussed among the citizens, with whom he was very +popular, not only from his ease and freedom of manner, but because his +graceful tastes, his love of painting, sculpture, architecture, and the +mechanical turn which made him an improver of fire-arms and a patron of +painting and engraving, rendered their society more agreeable to him than +that of his dull, barbarous nobility. Ebbo had heard so much of the +perfections of the King of the Romans as to be prepared to hate him; but +the boy, as we have seen, was of a generous, sensitive nature, peculiarly +prone to enthusiastic impressions of veneration; and Maximilian’s +high-spirited manhood, personal fascination, and individual kindness had +so entirely taken him by surprise, that he talked of him all the evening +in a more fervid manner than did even Friedel, though both could scarcely +rest for their anticipations of seeing him on the morrow in the full +state of his entry. + +Richly clad, and mounted on cream-coloured steeds, nearly as much alike +as themselves, the twins were a pleasant sight for a proud mother’s eyes, +as they rode out to take their place in the procession that was to +welcome the royal guests. Master Sorel, in ample gown, richly furred, +with medal and chain of office, likewise went forth as Guildmaster; and +Christina, with smiling lips and liquid eyes, recollected the days when +to see him in such array was her keenest pleasure, and the utmost +splendour her fancy could depict. + +Arrayed, as her sons loved to see her, in black velvet, and with +pearl-bordered cap, Christina sat by her aunt in the tapestried balcony, +and between them stood or sat little Thekla von Adlerstein Wildschloss, +whose father had entrusted her to their care, to see the procession pass +by. A rich Eastern carpet, of gorgeous colouring, covered the upper +balustrade, over which they leant, in somewhat close quarters with the +scarlet-bodiced dames of the opposite house, but with ample space for +sight up and down the rows of smiling expectants at each balcony, or +window, equally gay with hangings, while the bells of all the churches +clashed forth their gayest chimes, and fitful bursts of music were borne +upon the breeze. Little Thekla danced in the narrow space for very glee, +and wondered why any one should live in a cloister when the world was so +wide and so fair. And Dame Johanna tried to say something pious of +worldly temptations, and the cloister shelter; but Thekla interrupted +her, and, clinging to Christina, exclaimed, “Nay, but I am always naughty +with Mother Ludmilla in the convent, and I know I should never be naughty +out here with you and the barons; I should be so happy.” + +“Hush! hush! little one; here they come!” + +On they came—stout lanzknechts first, the city guard with steel helmets +unadorned, buff suits, and bearing either harquebuses, halberts, or those +handsome but terrible weapons, morning stars. Then followed guild after +guild, each preceded by the banner bearing its homely emblem—the cauldron +of the smiths, the hose of the clothiers, the helmet of the armourers, +the bason of the barbers, the boot of the sutors; even the sausage of the +cooks, and the shoe of the shoeblacks, were re-presented, as by men who +gloried in the calling in which they did life’s duty and task. + +First in each of these bands marched the prentices, stout, broad, +flat-faced lads, from twenty to fourteen years of age, with hair like tow +hanging from under their blue caps, staves in their hands, and knives at +their girdles. Behind them came the journeymen, in leathern jerkins and +steel caps, and armed with halberts or cross-bows; men of all ages, from +sixty to one or two and twenty, and many of the younger ones with foreign +countenances and garb betokening that they were strangers spending part +of their wandering years in studying the Ulm fashions of their craft. +Each trade showed a large array of these juniors; but the masters who +came behind were comparatively few, mostly elderly, long-gowned, +gold-chained personages, with a weight of solid dignity on their wise +brows—men who respected themselves, made others respect them, and kept +their city a peaceful, well-ordered haven, while storms raged in the +realm beyond—men too who had raised to the glory of their God a temple, +not indeed fulfilling the original design, but a noble effort, and grand +monument of burgher devotion. + +Then came the ragged regiment of scholars, wild lads from every part of +Germany and Switzerland, some wan and pinched with hardship and +privation, others sturdy, selfish rogues, evidently well able to take +care of themselves. There were many rude, tyrannical-looking lads among +the older lads; and, though here and there a studious, earnest face might +be remarked, the prospect of Germany’s future priests and teachers was +not encouraging. And what a searching ordeal was awaiting those careless +lads when the voice of one, as yet still a student, should ring through +Germany! + +Contrasting with these ill-kempt pupils marched the grave professors and +teachers, in square ecclesiastic caps and long gowns, whose colours +marked their degrees and the Universities that had conferred them—some +thin, some portly, some jocund, others dreamy; some observing all the +humours around, others still intent on Aristotelian ethics; all men of +high fame, with doctor at the beginning of their names, and “or” or “us” +at the close of them. After them rode the magistracy, a burgomaster from +each guild, and the Herr Provost himself—as great a potentate within his +own walls as the Doge of Venice or of Genoa, or perhaps greater, because +less jealously hampered. In this dignified group was Uncle Gottfried, by +complacent nod and smile acknowledging his good wife and niece, who +indeed had received many a previous glance and bow from friends passing +beneath. But Master Sorel was no new spectacle in a civic procession, +and the sight of him was only a pleasant fillip to the excitement of his +ladies. + +Here was jingling of spurs and trampling of horses; heraldic achievements +showed upon the banners, round which rode the mail-clad retainers of +country nobles who had mustered to meet their lords. Then, with still +more of clank and tramp, rode a bright-faced troop of lads, with +feathered caps and gay mantles. Young Count Rudiger looked up with +courteous salutation; and just behind him, with smiling lips and upraised +faces, were the pair whose dark eyes, dark hair, and slender forms +rendered them conspicuous among the fair Teutonic youth. Each cap was +taken off and waved, and each pair of lustrous eyes glanced up pleasure +and exultation at the sight of the lovely “Mutterlein.” And she? The +pageant was well-nigh over to her, save for heartily agreeing with Aunt +Johanna that there was not a young noble of them all to compare with the +twin Barons of Adlerstein! However, she knew she should be called to +account if she did not look well at “the Romish King;” besides, Thekla +was shrieking with delight at the sight of her father, tall and splendid +on his mighty black charger, with a smile for his child, and for the lady +a bow so low and deferential that it was evidently remarked by those at +whose approach every lady in the balconies was rising, every head in the +street was bared. + +A tall, thin, shrivelled, but exceedingly stately old man on a gray horse +was in the centre. Clad in a purple velvet mantle, and bowing as he +went, he looked truly the Kaisar, to whom stately courtesy was second +nature. On one side, in black and gold, with the jewel of the Golden +Fleece on his breast, rode Maximilian, responding gracefully to the +salutations of the people, but his keen gray eye roving in search of the +object of Sir Kasimir’s salute, and lighting on Christina with such a +rapid, amused glance of discovery that, in her confusion, she missed what +excited Dame Johanna’s rapturous admiration—the handsome boy on the +Emperor’s other side, a fair, plump lad, the young sovereign of the Low +Countries, beautiful in feature and complexion, but lacking the fire and +the loftiness that characterized his father’s countenance. The train was +closed by the Reitern of the Emperor’s guard—steel-clad mercenaries who +were looked on with no friendly eyes by the few gazers in the street who +had been left behind in the general rush to keep up with the attractive +part of the show. + +Pageants of elaborate mythological character impeded the imperial +progress at every stage, and it was full two hours ere the two youths +returned, heartily weary of the lengthened ceremonial, and laughing at +having actually seen the King of the Romans enduring to be conducted from +shrine to shrine in the cathedral by a large proportion of its +dignitaries. Ebbo was sure he had caught an archly disconsolate wink! + +Ebbo had to dress for the banquet spread in the town-hall. Space was +wanting for the concourse of guests, and Master Sorel had decided that +the younger Baron should not be included in the invitation. Friedel +pardoned him more easily than did Ebbo, who not only resented any slight +to his double, but in his fits of shy pride needed the aid of his readier +and brighter other self. But it might not be, and Sir Kasimir and Master +Gottfried alone accompanied him, hoping that he would not look as wild as +a hawk, and would do nothing to diminish the favourable impression he had +made on the King of the Romans. + +Late, according to mediæval hours, was the return, and Ebbo spoke in a +tone of elation. “The Kaisar was most gracious, and the king knew me,” +he said, “and asked for thee, Friedel, saying one of us was nought +without the other. But thou wilt go to-morrow, for we are to receive +knighthood.” + +“Already!” exclaimed Friedel, a bright glow rushing to his cheek. + +“Yea,” said Ebbo. “The Romish king said somewhat about waiting to win +our spurs; but the Kaisar said I was in a position to take rank as a +knight, and I thanked him, so thou shouldst share the honour.” + +“The Kaisar,” said Wildschloss, “is not the man to let a knight’s fee +slip between his fingers. The king would have kept off their grip, and +reserved you for knighthood from his own sword under the banner of the +empire; but there is no help for it now, and you must make your vassals +send in their dues.” + +“My vassals?” said Ebbo; “what could they send?” + +“The aid customary on the knighthood of the heir.” + +“But there is—there is nothing!” said Friedel. “They can scarce pay meal +and poultry enough for our daily fare; and if we were to flay them alive, +we should not get sixty groschen from the whole.” + +“True enough! Knighthood must wait till we win it,” said Ebbo, gloomily. + +“Nay, it is accepted,” said Wildschloss. “The Kaisar loves his iron +chest too well to let you go back. You must be ready with your round sum +to the chancellor, and your spur-money and your fee to the heralds, and +largess to the crowd.” + +“Mother, the dowry,” said Ebbo. + +“At your service, my son,” said Christina, anxious to chase the cloud +from his brow. + +But it was a deep haul, for the avaricious Friedrich IV. made exorbitant +charges for the knighting his young nobles; and Ebbo soon saw that the +improvements at home must suffer for the honours that would have been so +much better won than bought. + +“If your vassals cannot aid, yet may not your kinsman—?” began +Wildschloss. + +“No!” interrupted Ebbo, lashed up to hot indignation. “No, sir! Rather +will my mother, brother, and I ride back this very night to unfettered +liberty on our mountain, without obligation to any living man.” + +“Less hotly, Sir Baron,” said Master Gottfried, gravely. “You broke in +on your noble godfather, and you had not heard me speak. You and your +brother are the old man’s only heirs, nor do ye incur any obligation that +need fret you by forestalling what would be your just right. I will see +my nephews as well equipped as any young baron of them.” + +The mother looked anxiously at Ebbo. He bent his head with rising +colour, and said, “Thanks, kind uncle. From _you_ I have learnt to look +on goodness as fatherly.” + +“Only,” added Friedel, “if the Baron’s station renders knighthood fitting +for him, surely I might remain his esquire.” + +“Never, Friedel!” cried his brother. “Without thee, nothing.” + +“Well said, Freiherr,” said Master Sorel; “what becomes the one becomes +the other. I would not have thee left out, my Friedel, since I cannot +leave thee the mysteries of my craft.” + +“To-morrow!” said Friedel, gravely. “Then must the vigil be kept +to-night.” + +“The boy thinks these are the days of Roland and Karl the Great,” said +Wildschloss. “He would fain watch his arms in the moonlight in the Dome +Kirk! Alas! no, my Friedel! Knighthood in these days smacks more of +bezants than of deeds of prowess.” + +“Unbearable fellow!” cried Ebbo, when he had latched the door of the room +he shared with his brother. “First, holding up my inexperience to scorn! +As though the Kaisar knew not better than he what befits me! Then trying +to buy my silence and my mother’s gratitude with his hateful advance of +gold. As if I did not loathe him enough without! If I pay my homage, +and sign the League to-morrow, it will be purely that he may not plume +himself on our holding our own by sufferance, in deference to him.” + +“You will sign it—you will do homage!” exclaimed Friedel. “How rejoiced +the mother will be.” + +“I had rather depend at once—if depend I must—on yonder dignified Kaisar +and that noble king than on our meddling kinsman,” said Ebbo. “I shall +be his equal now! Ay, and no more classed with the court Junkern I was +with to-day. The dullards! No one reasonable thing know they but the +chase. One had been at Florence; and when I asked him of the Baptistery +and rare Giotto of whom my uncle told us, he asked if he were a knight of +the Medici. All he knew was that there were ortolans at Ser Lorenzo’s +table; and he and the rest of them talked over wines as many and as hard +to call as the roll of Æneas’s comrades; and when each one must drink to +her he loved best, and I said I loved none like my sweet mother, they +gibed me for a simple dutiful mountaineer. Yea, and when the servants +brought a bowl, I thought it was a wholesome draught of spring water +after all their hot wines and fripperies. Pah!” + +“The rose-water, Ebbo! No wonder they laughed! Why, the bowls for our +fingers came round at the banquet here.” + +“Ah! thou hast eyes for their finikin manners! Yet what know they of +what we used to long for in polished life! Not one but vowed he abhorred +books, and cursed Dr. Faustus for multiplying them. I may not know the +taste of a stew, nor the fit of a glove, as they do, but I trust I bear a +less empty brain. And the young Netherlanders that came with the +Archduke were worst of all. They got together and gabbled French, and +treated the German Junkern with the very same sauce with which they had +served me. The Archduke laughed with them, and when the Provost +addressed him, made as if he understood not, till his father heard, and +thundered out, ‘How now, Philip! Deaf on thy German ear? I tell thee, +Herr Probst, he knows his own tongue as well as thou or I, and thou shalt +hear him speak as becomes the son of an Austrian hunter.’ That Romish +king is a knight of knights, Friedel. I could follow him to the world’s +end. I wonder whether he will ever come to climb the Red Eyrie.” + +“It does not seem the world’s end when one is there,” said Friedel, with +strange yearnings in his breast. + +“Even the Dom steeple never rose to its full height,” he added, standing +in the window, and gazing pensively into the summer sky. “Oh, Ebbo! this +knighthood has come very suddenly after our many dreams; and, even though +its outward tokens be lowered, it is still a holy, awful thing.” + +Nurtured in mountain solitude, on romance transmitted through the pure +medium of his mother’s mind, and his spirit untainted by contact with the +world, Friedmund von Adlerstein looked on chivalry with the temper of a +Percival or Galahad, and regarded it with a sacred awe. Eberhard, though +treating it more as a matter of business, was like enough to his brother +to enter into the force of the vows they were about to make; and if the +young Barons of Adlerstein did not perform the night-watch over their +armour, yet they kept a vigil that impressed their own minds as deeply, +and in early morn they went to confession and mass ere the gay parts of +the city were astir. + +“Sweet niece,” said Master Sorel, as he saw the brothers’ grave, earnest +looks, “thou hast done well by these youths; yet I doubt me at times +whether they be not too much lifted out of this veritable world of ours.” + +“Ah, fair uncle, were they not above it, how could they face its +temptations?” + +“True, my child; but how will it be when they find how lightly others +treat what to them is so solemn?” + +“There must be temptations for them, above all for Ebbo,” said Christina, +“but still, when I remember how my heart sank when their grandmother +tried to bring them up to love crime as sport and glory, I cannot but +trust that the good work will be wrought out, and my dream fulfilled, +that they may be lights on earth and stars in heaven. Even this matter +of homage, that seemed so hard to my Ebbo, has now been made easy to him +by his veneration for the Emperor.” + +It was even so. If the sense that he was the last veritable _free_ lord +of Adlerstein rushed over Ebbo, he was, on the other hand, overmastered +by the kingliness of Friedrich and Maximilian, and was aware that this +submission, while depriving him of little or no actual power, brought him +into relations with the civilized world, and opened to him paths of true +honour. So the ceremonies were gone through, his oath of allegiance was +made, investiture was granted to him by the delivery of a sword, and both +he and Friedel were dubbed knights. Then they shared another banquet, +where, as away from the Junkern and among elder men, Ebbo was happier +than the day before. Some of the knights seemed to him as rude and +ignorant as the Schneiderlein, but no one talked to him nor observed his +manners, and he could listen to conversation on war and policy such as +interested him far more than the subjects affected by youths a little +older than himself. Their lonely life and training had rendered the +minds of the brothers as much in advance of their fellows as they were +behind them in knowledge of the world. + +The crass obtuseness of most of the nobility made it a relief to return +to the usual habits of the Sorel household when the court had left Ulm. +Friedmund, anxious to prove that his new honours were not to alter his +home demeanour, was drawing on a block of wood from a tinted pen-and-ink +sketch; Ebbo was deeply engaged with a newly-acquired copy of Virgil; and +their mother was embroidering some draperies for the long-neglected +castle chapel,—all sitting, as Master Gottfried loved to have them, in +his studio, whence he had a few moments before been called away, when, as +the door slowly opened, a voice was heard that made both lads start and +rise. + +“Yea, truly, Herr Guildmaster, I would see these masterpieces. Ha! What +have you here for masterpieces? Our two new double-ganger knights?” And +Maximilian entered in a simple riding-dress, attended by Master +Gottfried, and by Sir Kasimir of Adlerstein Wildschloss. + +Christina would fain have slipped out unperceived, but the king was +already removing his cap from his fair curling locks, and bending his +head as he said, “The Frau Freiherrinn von Adlerstein? Fair lady, I +greet you well, and thank you in the Kaisar’s name and mine for having +bred up for us two true and loyal subjects.” + +“May they so prove themselves, my liege!” said Christina, bending low. + +“And not only loyal-hearted,” added Maximilian, smiling, “but +ready-brained, which is less frequent among our youth. What is thy book, +young knight? Virgilius Maro? Dost thou read the Latin?” he added, in +that tongue. + +“Not as well as we wish, your kingly highness,” readily answered Ebbo, in +Latin, “having learnt solely of our mother till we came hither.” + +“Never fear for that, my young blade,” laughed the king. “Knowst not +that the wiseacres thought me too dull for teaching till I was past ten +years? And what is thy double about? Drawing on wood? How now! An +able draughtsman, my young knight?” + +“My nephew Sir Friedmund is good to the old man,” said Gottfried, himself +almost regretting the lad’s avocation. “My eyes are failing me, and he +is aiding me with the graving of this border. He has the knack that no +teaching will impart to any of my present journeymen.” + +“Born, not made,” quoth Maximilian. “Nay,” as Friedel coloured deeper at +the sense that Ebbo was ashamed of him, “no blushes, my boy; it is a rare +gift. I can make a hundred knights any day, but the Almighty alone can +make a genius. It was this very matter of graving that led me hither.” + +For Maximilian had a passion for composition, and chiefly for +autobiography, and his head was full of that curious performance, _Der +Weisse König_, which occupied many of the leisure moments of his life, +being dictated to his former writing-master, Marcus Sauerwein. He had +already designed the portrayal of his father as the old white king, and +himself as the young white king, in a series of woodcuts illustrating the +narrative which culminated in the one romance of his life, his brief +happy marriage with Mary of Burgundy; and he continued eagerly to talk to +Master Gottfried about the mystery of graving, and the various scenes in +which he wished to depict himself learning languages from native +speakers—Czech from a peasant with a basket of eggs, English from the +exiles at the Burgundian court, who had also taught him the use of the +longbow, building from architects and masons, painting from artists, and, +more imaginatively, astrology from a wonderful flaming sphere in the sky, +and the black art from a witch inspired by a long-tailed demon perched on +her shoulder. No doubt “the young white king” made an exceedingly +prominent figure in the discourse, but it was so quaint and so brilliant +that it did not need the charm of royal condescension to entrance the +young knights, who stood silent auditors. Ebbo at least was convinced +that no species of knowledge or skill was viewed by his kaisarly kingship +as beneath his dignity; but still he feared Friedel’s being seized upon +to be as prime illustrator to the royal autobiography—a lot to which, +with all his devotion to Maximilian, he could hardly have consigned his +brother, in the certainty that the jeers of the ruder nobles would pursue +the craftsman baron. + +However, for the present, Maximilian was keen enough to see that the +boy’s mechanical skill was not as yet equal to his genius; so he only +encouraged him to practise, adding that he heard there was a rare lad, +one Dürer, at Nuremburg, whose productions were already wonderful. “And +what is this?” he asked; “what is the daintily-carved group I see +yonder?” + +“Your highness means, ‘The Dove in the Eagle’s Nest,’” said Kasimir. “It +is the work of my young kinsmen, and their appropriate device.” + +“As well chosen as carved,” said Maximilian, examining it. “Well is it +that a city dove should now and then find her way to the eyrie. Some of +my nobles would cut my throat for the heresy, but I am safe here, eh, Sir +Kasimir? Fare ye well, ye dove-trained eaglets. We will know one +another better when we bear the cross against the infidel.” + +The brothers kissed his hand, and he descended the steps from the hall +door. Ere he had gone far, he turned round upon Sir Kasimir with a merry +smile: “A very white and tender dove indeed, and one who might easily +nestle in another eyrie, methinks.” + +“Deems your kingly highness that consent could be won?” asked Wildschloss + +“From the Kaisar? Pfui, man, thou knowst as well as I do the golden key +to his consent. So thou wouldst risk thy luck again! Thou hast no male +heir.” + +“And I would fain give my child a mother who would deal well with her. +Nay, to say sooth, that gentle, innocent face has dwelt with me for many +years. But for my pre-contract, I had striven long ago to win her, and +had been a happier man, mayhap. And, now I have seen what she has made +of her sons, I feel I could scarce find her match among our nobility.” + +“Nor elsewhere,” said the king; “and I honour thee for not being so +besotted in our German haughtiness as not to see that it is our free +cities that make refined and discreet dames. I give you good speed, +Adlerstein; but, if I read aright the brow of one at least of these young +fellows, thou wilt scarce have a willing or obedient stepson.” + + + + +CHAPTER XV +THE RIVAL EYRIE + + +EBBO trusted that his kinsman of Wildschloss was safe gone with the +Court, and his temper smoothed and his spirits rose in proportion while +preparations for a return to Adlerstein were being completed—preparations +by which the burgher lady might hope to render the castle far more +habitable, not to say baronial, than it had ever been. + +The lady herself felt thankful that her stay at Ulm had turned out well +beyond all anticipations in the excellent understanding between her uncle +and her sons, and still more in Ebbo’s full submission and personal +loyalty towards the imperial family. The die was cast, and the first +step had been taken towards rendering the Adlerstein family the peaceful, +honourable nobles she had always longed to see them. + +She was one afternoon assisting her aunt in some of the duties of her +wirthschaft, when Master Gottfried entered the apartment with an air of +such extreme complacency that both turned round amazed; the one +exclaiming, “Surely funds have come in for finishing the spire!” the +other, “Have they appointed thee Provost for next year, house-father?” + +“Neither the one nor the other,” was the reply. “But heard you not the +horse’s feet? Here has the Lord of Adlerstein Wildschloss been with me +in full state, to make formal proposals for the hand of our child, +Christina.” + +“For Christina!” cried Hausfrau Johanna with delight; “truly that is +well. Truly our maiden has done honour to her breeding. A second +nobleman demanding her—and one who should be able richly to endow her!” + +“And who will do so,” said Master Gottfried. “For morning gift he +promises the farms and lands of Grünau—rich both in forest and corn +glebe. Likewise, her dower shall be upon Wildschloss—where the soil is +of the richest pasture, and there are no less than three mills, whence +the lord obtains large rights of multure. Moreover, the Castle was added +to and furnished on his marriage with the late baroness, and might serve +a Kurfürst; and though the jewels of Freiherrinn Valeska must be +inherited by her daughter, yet there are many of higher price which have +descended from his own ancestresses, and which will all be hers.” + +“And what a wedding we will have!” exclaimed Johanna; “it shall be truly +baronial. I will take my hood and go at once to neighbour Sophie +Lemsberg, who was wife to the Markgraf’s Under Keller-Meister. She will +tell me point device the ceremonies befitting the espousals of a baron’s +widow.” + +Poor Christina had sat all this time with drooping head and clasped +hands, a tear stealing down as the formal terms of the treaty sent her +spirit back to the urgent, pleading, imperious voice that had said, “Now, +little one, thou wilt not shut me out;” and as she glanced at the ring +that had lain on that broad palm, she felt as if her sixteen cheerful +years had been an injury to her husband in his nameless bloody grave. +But protection was so needful in those rude ages, and second marriages so +frequent, that reluctance was counted as weakness. She knew her uncle +and aunt would never believe that aught but compulsion had bound her to +the rude outlaw, and her habit of submission was so strong that, only +when her aunt was actually rising to go and consult her gossip, she found +breath to falter, + +“Hold, dear aunt—my sons—” + +“Nay, child, it is the best thing thou couldst do for them. Wonders hast +thou wrought, yet are they too old to be without fatherly authority. I +speak not of Friedel; the lad is gentle and pious, though spirited, but +for the baron. The very eye and temper of my poor brother Hugh—thy +father, Stine—are alive again in him. Yea, I love the lad the better for +it, while I fear. He minds me precisely of Hugh ere he was ’prenticed to +the weapon-smith, and all became bitterness.” + +“Ah, truly,” said Christina, raising her eyes “all would become +bitterness with my Ebbo were I to give a father’s power to one whom he +would not love.” + +“Then were he sullen and unruly, indeed!” said the old burgomaster with +displeasure; “none have shown him more kindness, none could better aid +him in court and empire. The lad has never had restraint enough. I +blame thee not, child, but he needs it sorely, by thine own showing.” + +“Alas, uncle! mine be the blame, but it is over late. My boy will rule +himself for the love of God and of his mother, but he will brook no hand +over him—least of all now he is a knight and thinks himself a man. +Uncle, I should be deprived of both my sons, for Friedel’s very soul is +bound up with his brother’s. I pray thee enjoin not this thing on me,” +she implored. + +“Child!” exclaimed Master Gottfried, “thou thinkst not that such a +contract as this can be declined for the sake of a wayward Junker!” + +“Stay, house-father, the little one will doubtless hear reason and +submit,” put in the aunt. “Her sons were goodly and delightsome to her +in their upgrowth, but they are well-nigh men. They will be away to +court and camp, to love and marriage; and how will it be with her then, +young and fair as she still is? Well will it be for her to have a +stately lord of her own, and a new home of love and honour springing +round her.” + +“True,” continued Sorel; “and though she be too pious and wise to reck +greatly of such trifles, yet it may please her dreamy brain to hear that +Sir Kasimir loves her even like a paladin, and the love of a tried man of +six-and-forty is better worth than a mere kindling of youthful fancy.” + +“Mine Eberhard loved me!” murmured Christina, almost to herself, but her +aunt caught the word. + +“And what was such love worth? To force thee into a stolen match, and +leave thee alone and unowned to the consequences!” + +“Peace!” exclaimed Christina, with crimson cheek and uplifted head. +“Peace! My own dear lord loved me with true and generous love! None but +myself knows how much. Not a word will I hear against that tender +heart.” + +“Yes, peace,” returned Gottfried in a conciliatory tone,—“peace to the +brave Sir Eberhard. Thine aunt meant no ill of him. He truly would +rejoice that the wisdom of his choice should receive such testimony, and +that his sons should be thus well handled. Nay, little as I heed such +toys, it will doubtless please the lads that the baron will obtain of the +Emperor letters of nobility for this house, which verily sprang of a good +Walloon family, and so their shield will have no blank. The Romish king +promises to give thee rank with any baroness, and hath fully owned what a +pearl thou art, mine own sweet dove! Nay, Sir Kasimir is coming +to-morrow in the trust to make the first betrothal with Graf von Kaulwitz +as a witness, and I thought of asking the Provost on the other hand.” + +“To-morrow!” exclaimed Johanna; “and how is she to be meetly clad? Look +at this widow-garb; and how is time to be found for procuring other +raiment? House-father, a substantial man like you should better +understand! The meal too! I must to gossip Sophie!” + +“Verily, dear mother and father,” said Christina, who had rallied a +little, “have patience with me. I may not lightly or suddenly betroth +myself; I know not that I can do so at all, assuredly not unless my sons +were heartily willing. Have I your leave to retire?” + +“Granted, my child, for meditation will show thee that this is too fair a +lot for any but thee. Much had I longed to see thee wedded ere thy sons +outgrew thy care, but I shunned proposing even one of our worthy +guildmasters, lest my young Freiherr should take offence; but this +knight, of his own blood, true and wise as a burgher, and faithful and +God-fearing withal, is a better match than I durst hope, and is no doubt +a special reward from thy patron saint.” + +“Let me entreat one favour more,” implored Christina. “Speak of this to +no one ere I have seen my sons.” + +She made her way to her own chamber, there to weep and flutter. Marriage +was a matter of such high contract between families that the parties +themselves had usually no voice in the matter, and only the widowed had +any chance of a personal choice; nor was this always accorded in the case +of females, who remained at the disposal of their relatives. Good +substantial wedded affection was not lacking, but romantic love was +thought an unnecessary preliminary, and found a vent in extravagant +adoration, not always in reputable quarters. Obedience first to the +father, then to the husband, was the first requisite; love might shift +for itself; and the fair widow of Adlerstein, telling her beads in sheer +perplexity, knew not whether her strong repugnance to this marriage and +warm sympathy with her son Ebbo were not an act of rebellion. Yet each +moment did her husband rise before her mind more vividly, with his rugged +looks, his warm, tender heart, his dawnings of comprehension, his +generous forbearance and reverential love—the love of her youth—to be +equalled by no other. The accomplished courtier and polished man of the +world might be his superior, but she loathed the superiority, since it +was to her husband. Might not his one chosen dove keep heart-whole for +him to the last? She recollected that coarsest, cruellest reproach of +all that her mother-in-law had been wont to fling at her,—that she, the +recent widow, the new-made mother of Eberhard’s babes, in her grief, her +terror, and her weakness had sought to captivate this suitor by her +blandishments. The taunt seemed justified, and her cheeks burned with +absolute shame “My husband! my loving Eberhard! left with none but me to +love thee, unknown to thine own sons! I cannot, I will not give my heart +away from thee! Thy little bride shall be faithful to thee, whatever +betide. When we meet beyond the grave I will have been thine only, nor +have set any before thy sons. Heaven forgive me if I be undutiful to my +uncle; but thou must be preferred before even him! Hark!” and she +started as if at Eberhard’s foot-step; then smiled, recollecting that +Ebbo had his father’s tread. But her husband had been too much in awe of +her to enter with that hasty agitated step and exclamation, “Mother, +mother, what insolence is this!” + +“Hush, Ebbo! I prayed mine uncle to let me speak to thee.” + +“It is true, then,” said Ebbo, dashing his cap on the ground; “I had +soundly beaten that grinning ’prentice for telling Heinz.” + +“Truly the house rings with the rumour, mother,” said Friedel, “but we +had not believed it.” + +“I believed Wildschloss assured enough for aught,” said Ebbo, “but I +thought he knew where to begin. Does he not know who is head of the +house of Adlerstein, since he must tamper with a mechanical craftsman, +cap in hand to any sprig of nobility! I would have soon silenced his +overtures!” + +“Is it in sooth as we heard?” asked Friedel, blushing to the ears, for +the boy was shy as a maiden. “Mother, we know what you would say,” he +added, throwing himself on his knees beside her, his arm round her waist, +his cheek on her lap, and his eyes raised to hers. + +She bent down to kiss him. “Thou knewst it, Friedel, and now must thou +aid me to remain thy father’s true widow, and to keep Ebbo from being +violent.” + +Ebbo checked his hasty march to put his hand on her chair and kiss her +brow. “Motherling, I will restrain myself, so you will give me your word +not to desert us.” + +“Nay, Ebbo,” said Friedel, “the motherling is too true and loving for us +to bind her.” + +“Children,” she answered, “hear me patiently. I have been communing with +myself, and deeply do I feel that none other can I love save him who is +to you a mere name, but to me a living presence. Nor would I put any +between you and me. Fear me not, Ebbo. I think the mothers and sons of +this wider, fuller world do not prize one another as we do. But, my son, +this is no matter for rage or ingratitude. Remember it is no small +condescension in a noble to stoop to thy citizen mother.” + +“He knew what painted puppets noble ladies are,” growled Ebbo. + +“Moreover,” continued Christina, “thine uncle is highly gratified, and +cannot believe that I can refuse. He understands not my love for thy +father, and sees many advantages for us all. I doubt me if he believes I +have power to resist his will, and for thee, he would not count thine +opposition valid. And the more angry and vehement thou art, the more +will he deem himself doing thee a service by overruling thee.” + +“Come home, mother. Let Heinz lead our horses to the door in the dawn, +and when we are back in free Adlerstein it will be plain who is master.” + +“Such a flitting would scarce prove our wisdom,” said Christina, “to run +away with thy mother like a lover in a ballad. Nay, let me first deal +gently with thine uncle, and speak myself with Sir Kasimir, so that I may +show him the vanity of his suit. Then will we back to Adlerstein without +leaving wounds to requite kindness.” + +Ebbo was wrought on to promise not to attack the burgomaster on the +subject, but he was moody and silent, and Master Gottfried let him alone, +considering his gloom as another proof of his need of fatherly authority, +and as a peace-lover forbearing to provoke his fiery spirit. + +But when Sir Kasimir’s visit was imminent, and Christina had refused to +make the change in her dress by which a young widow was considered to lay +herself open to another courtship, Master Gottfried called the twins +apart. + +“My young lords,” he said, “I fear me ye are vexing your gentle mother by +needless strife at what must take place.” + +“Pardon me, good uncle,” said Ebbo, “I utterly decline the honour of Sir +Kasimir’s suit to my mother.” + +Master Gottfried smiled. “Sons are not wont to be the judges in such +cases, Sir Eberhard.” + +“Perhaps not,” he answered; “but my mother’s will is to the nayward, nor +shall she be coerced.” + +“It is merely because of you and your pride,” said Master Gottfried. + +“I think not so,” rejoined the calmer Friedel; “my mother’s love for my +father is still fresh.” + +“Young knights,” said Master Gottfried, “it would scarce become me to +say, nor you to hear, how much matter of fancy such love must have been +towards one whom she knew but for a few short months, though her pure +sweet dreams, through these long years, have moulded him into a hero. +Boys, I verily believe ye love her truly. Would it be well for her still +to mourn and cherish a dream while yet in her fresh age, capable of new +happiness, fuller than she has ever enjoyed?” + +“She is happy with us,” rejoined Ebbo. + +“And ye are good lads and loving sons, though less duteous in manner than +I could wish. But look you, you may not ever be with her, and when ye +are absent in camp or court, or contracting a wedlock of your own, would +you leave her to her lonesome life in your solitary castle?” + +Friedel’s unselfishness might have been startled, but Ebbo boldly +answered, “All mine is hers. No joy to me but shall be a joy to her. We +can make her happier than could any stranger. Is it not so, Friedel?” + +“It is,” said Friedel, thoughtfully. + +“Ah, rash bloods, promising beyond what ye can keep. Nature will be too +strong for you. Love your mother as ye may, what will she be to you when +a bride comes in your way? Fling not away in wrath, Sir Baron; it was so +with your parents both before you; and what said the law of the good God +at the first marriage? How can you withstand the nature He has given?” + +“Belike I may wed,” said Ebbo, bluntly; “but if it be not for my mother’s +happiness, call me man-sworn knight.” + +“Not so,” good-humouredly answered Gottfried, “but boy-sworn paladin, who +talks of he knows not what. Speak knightly truth, Sir Baron, and own +that this opposition is in verity from distaste to a stepfather’s rule.” + +“I own that I will not brook such rule,” said Ebbo; “nor do I know what +we have done to deserve that it should be thrust on us. You have never +blamed Friedel, at least; and verily, uncle, my mother’s eye will lead me +where a stranger’s hand shall never drive me. Did I even think she had +for this man a quarter of the love she bears to my dead father, I would +strive for endurance; but in good sooth we found her in tears, praying us +to guard her from him. I may be a boy, but I am man enough to prevent +her from being coerced.” + +“Was this so, Friedel?” asked Master Gottfried, moved more than by all +that had gone before. “Ach, I thought ye all wiser. And spake she not +of Sir Kasimir’s offers?—Interest with the Romish king?—Yea, and a grant +of nobility and arms to this house, so as to fill the blank in your +scutcheon?” + +“My father never asked if she were noble,” said Ebbo. “Nor will I barter +her for a cantle of a shield.” + +“There spake a manly spirit,” said his uncle, delighted. “Her worth hath +taught thee how little to prize these gewgaws! Yet, if you look to +mingling with your own proud kind, ye may fall among greater slights than +ye can brook. It may matter less to you, Sir Baron, but Friedel here, +ay, and your sons, will be ineligible to the choicest orders of +knighthood, and the canonries and chapters that are honourable +endowments.” + +Friedel looked as if he could bear it, and Eberhard said, “The order of +the Dove of Adlerstein is enough for us.” + +“Headstrong all, headstrong all,” sighed Master Gottfried. “One romantic +marriage has turned all your heads.” + +The Baron of Adlerstein Wildschloss, unprepared for the opposition that +awaited him, was riding down the street equipped point device, and with a +goodly train of followers, in brilliant suits. Private wooing did not +enter into the honest ideas of the burghers, and the suitor was ushered +into the full family assembly, where Christina rose and came forward a +few steps to meet him, curtseying as low as he bowed, as he said, “Lady, +I have preferred my suit to you through your honour-worthy uncle, who is +good enough to stand my friend.” + +“You are over good, sir. I feel the honour, but a second wedlock may not +be mine.” + +“Now,” murmured Ebbo to his brother, as the knight and lady seated +themselves in full view, “now will the smooth-tongued fellow talk her out +of her senses. Alack! that gipsy prophecy!” + +Wildschloss did not talk like a young wooer; such days were over for +both; but he spoke as a grave and honourable man, deeply penetrated with +true esteem and affection. He said that at their first meeting he had +been struck with her sweetness and discretion, and would soon after have +endeavoured to release her from her durance, but that he was bound by the +contract already made with the Trautbachs, who were dangerous neighbours +to Wildschloss. He had delayed his distasteful marriage as long as +possible, and it had caused him nothing but trouble and strife; his +children would not live, and Thekla, the only survivor, was, as his sole +heiress, a mark for the cupidity of her uncle, the Count of Trautbach, +and his almost savage son Lassla; while the right to the Wildschloss +barony would become so doubtful between her and Ebbo, as heir of the male +line, that strife and bloodshed would be well-nigh inevitable. These +causes made it almost imperative that he should re-marry, and his own +strong preference and regard for little Thekla directed his wishes +towards the Freiherrinn von Adlerstein. He backed his suit with courtly +compliments, as well as with representations of his child’s need of a +mother’s training, and the twins’ equal want of fatherly guidance, +dilating on the benefits he could confer on them. + +Christina felt his kindness, and had full trust in his intentions. “No” +was a difficult syllable to her, but she had that within her which could +not accept him; and she firmly told him that she was too much bound to +both her Eberhards. But there was no daunting him, nor preventing her +uncle and aunt from encouraging him. He professed that he would wait, +and give her time to consider; and though she reiterated that +consideration would not change her mind, Master Gottfried came forward to +thank him, and express his confidence of bringing her to reason. + +“While I, sir,” said Ebbo, with flashing eyes, and low but resentful +voice, “beg to decline the honour in the name of the elder house of +Adlerstein.” + +He held himself upright as a dart, but was infinitely annoyed by the +little mocking bow and smile that he received in return, as Sir Kasimir, +with his long mantle, swept out of the apartment, attended by Master +Gottfried. + +“Burgomaster Sorel,” said the boy, standing in the middle of the floor as +his uncle returned, “let me hear whether I am a person of any +consideration in this family or not?” + +“Nephew baron,” quietly replied Master Gottfried, “it is not the use of +us Germans to be dictated to by youths not yet arrived at years of +discretion.” + +“Then, mother,” said Ebbo, “we leave this place to-morrow morn.” And at +her nod of assent the house-father looked deeply grieved, the +house-mother began to clamour about ingratitude. “Not so,” answered +Ebbo, fiercely. “We quit the house as poor as we came, in homespun and +with the old mare.” + +“Peace, Ebbo!” said his mother, rising; “peace, I entreat, house-mother! +pardon, uncle, I pray thee. O, why will not all who love me let me +follow that which I believe to be best!” + +“Child,” said her uncle, “I cannot see thee domineered over by a youth +whose whole conduct shows his need of restraint.” + +“Nor am I,” said Christina. “It is I who am utterly averse to this +offer. My sons and I are one in that; and, uncle, if I pray of you to +consent to let us return to our castle, it is that I would not see the +visit that has made us so happy stained with strife and dissension! +Sure, sure, you cannot be angered with my son for his love for me.” + +“For the self-seeking of his love,” said Master Gottfried. “It is to +gratify his own pride that he first would prevent thee from being +enriched and ennobled, and now would bear thee away to the scant—Nay, +Freiherr, I will not seem to insult you, but resentment would make you +cruel to your mother.” + +“Not cruel!” said Friedel, hastily. “My mother is willing. And verily, +good uncle, methinks that we all were best at home. We have benefited +much and greatly by our stay; we have learnt to love and reverence you; +but we are wild mountaineers at the best; and, while our hearts are +fretted by the fear of losing our sweet mother, we can scarce be as +patient or submissive as if we had been bred up by a stern father. We +have ever judged and acted for ourselves, and it is hard to us not to do +so still, when our minds are chafed.” + +“Friedel,” said Ebbo, sternly, “I will have no pardon asked for +maintaining my mother’s cause. Do not thou learn to be smooth-tongued.” + +“O thou wrong-headed boy!” half groaned Master Gottfried. “Why did not +all this fall out ten years sooner, when thou wouldst have been amenable? +Yet, after all, I do not know that any noble training has produced a more +high-minded loving youth,” he added, half relenting as he looked at the +gallant, earnest face, full of defiance indeed, but with a certain +wistful appealing glance at “the motherling,” softening the liquid +lustrous dark eye. “Get thee gone, boy, I would not quarrel with you; +and it may be, as Friedel says, that we are best out of one another’s +way. You are used to lord it, and I can scarce make excuses for you.” + +“Then,” said Ebbo, scarce appeased, “I take home my mother, and you, sir, +cease to favour Kasimir’s suit.” + +“No, Sir Baron. I cease not to think that nothing would be so much for +your good. It is because I believe that a return to your own old castle +will best convince you all that I will not vex your mother by further +opposing your departure. When you perceive your error may it only not be +too late! Such a protector is not to be found every day.” + +“My mother shall never need any protector save myself,” said Ebbo; “but, +sir, she loves you, and owes all to you. Therefore I will not be at +strife with you, and there is my hand.” + +He said it as if he had been the Emperor reconciling himself to all the +Hanse towns in one. Master Gottfried could scarce refrain from shrugging +his shoulders, and Hausfrau Johanna was exceedingly angry with the +petulant pride and insolence of the young noble; but, in effect, all were +too much relieved to avoid an absolute quarrel with the fiery lad to take +exception at minor matters. The old burgher was forbearing; Christina, +who knew how much her son must have swallowed to bring him to this +concession for love of her, thought him a hero worthy of all sacrifices; +and peace-making Friedel, by his aunt’s side, soon softened even her, by +some of the persuasive arguments that old dames love from gracious, +graceful, great-nephews. + +And when, by and by, Master Gottfried went out to call on Sir Kasimir, +and explain how he had thought it best to yield to the hot-tempered lad, +and let the family learn how to be thankful for the goods they had +rejected, he found affairs in a state that made him doubly anxious that +the young barons should be safe on their mountain without knowing of +them. The Trautbach family had heard of Wildschloss’s designs, and they +had set abroad such injurious reports respecting the Lady of Adlerstein, +that Sir Kasimir was in the act of inditing a cartel to be sent by Count +Kaulwitz, to demand an explanation—not merely as the lady’s suitor, but +as the only Adlerstein of full age. Now, if Ebbo had heard of the +rumour, he would certainly have given the lie direct, and taken the whole +defence on himself; and it may be feared that, just as his cause might +have been, Master Gottfried’s faith did not stretch to believing that it +would make his sixteen-year-old arm equal to the brutal might of Lassla +of Trautbach. So he heartily thanked the Baron of Wildschloss, agreed +with him that the young knights were not as yet equal to the maintenance +of the cause, and went home again to watch carefully that no report +reached either of his nephews. Nor did he breathe freely till he had +seen the little party ride safe off in the early morning, in much more +lordly guise than when they had entered the city. + +As to Wildschloss and his nephew of Trautbach, in spite of their +relationship they had a sharp combat on the borders of their own estates, +in which both were severely wounded; but Sir Kasimir, with the +misericorde in his grasp, forced Lassla to retract whatever he had said +in dispraise of the Lady of Adlerstein. Wily old Gottfried took care +that the tidings should be sent in a form that might at once move +Christina with pity and gratitude towards her champion, and convince her +sons that the adversary was too much hurt for them to attempt a fresh +challenge. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI +THE EAGLE AND THE SNAKE + + +THE reconciliation made Ebbo retract his hasty resolution of +relinquishing all the benefits resulting from his connection with the +Sorel family, and his mother’s fortune made it possible to carry out many +changes that rendered the castle and its inmates far more prosperous in +appearance than had ever been the case before. Christina had once again +the appliances of a _wirthschaft_, such as she felt to be the suitable +and becoming appurtenance of a right-minded Frau, gentle or simple, and +she felt so much the happier and more respectable. + +A chaplain had also been secured. The youths had insisted on his being +capable of assisting their studies, and, a good man had been found who +was fearfully learned, having studied at all possible universities, but +then failing as a teacher, because he was so dreamy and absent as to be +incapable of keeping the unruly students in order. Jobst Schön was his +proper name, but he was translated into Jodocus Pulcher. The chapel was +duly adorned, the hall and other chambers were fitted up with some degree +of comfort; the castle court was cleansed, the cattle sheds removed to +the rear, and the serfs were presented with seed, and offered payment in +coin if they would give their labour in fencing and clearing the +cornfield and vineyard which the barons were bent on forming on the sunny +slope of the ravine. Poverty was over, thanks to the marriage portion, +and yet Ebbo looked less happy than in the days when there was but a bare +subsistence; and he seemed to miss the full tide of city life more than +did his brother, who, though he had enjoyed Ulm more heartily at the +time, seemed to have returned to all his mountain delights with greater +zest than ever. At his favourite tarn, he revelled in the vast stillness +with the greater awe for having heard the hum of men, and his minstrel +dreams had derived fresh vigour from contact with the active world. But, +as usual, he was his brother’s chief stay in the vexations of a reformer. +The serfs had much rather their lord had turned out a freebooter than an +improver. Why should they sow new seeds, when the old had sufficed their +fathers? Work, beyond the regulated days when they scratched up the soil +of his old enclosure, was abhorrent to them. As to his offered coin, +they needed nothing it would buy, and had rather bask in the sun or sleep +in the smoke. A vineyard had never been heard of on Adlerstein mountain: +it was clean contrary to his forefathers’ habits; and all came of the bad +drop of restless burgher blood, that could not let honest folk rest. + +Ebbo stormed, not merely with words, but blows, became ashamed of his +violence, tried to atone for it by gifts and kind words, and in return +was sulkily told that he would bring more good to the village by rolling +the fiery wheel straight down hill at the wake, than by all his +new-fangled ways. Had not Koppel and a few younger men been more open to +influence, his agricultural schemes could hardly have begun; but +Friedel’s persuasions were not absolutely without success, and every rood +that was dug was achieved by his patience and perseverance. + +Next came home the Graf von Schlangenwald. He had of late inhabited his +castle in Styria, but in a fierce quarrel with some of his neighbours he +had lost his eldest son, and the pacification enforced by the King of the +Romans had so galled and infuriated him that he had deserted that part of +the country and returned to Swabia more fierce and bitter than ever. +Thenceforth began a petty border warfare such as had existed when +Christina first knew Adlerstein, but had of late died out. The shepherd +lad came home weeping with wrath. Three mounted Schlangenwaldern had +driven off his four best sheep, and beaten himself with their halberds, +though he was safe on Adlerstein ground. Then a light thrown by a +Schlangenwald reiter consumed all Jobst’s pile of wood. The swine did +not come home, and were found with spears sticking in them; the great +broad-horned bull that Ebbo had brought from the pastures of Ulm vanished +from the Alp below the Gemsbock’s Pass, and was known to be salted for +winter use at Schlangenwald. + +Still Christina tried to persuade her sons that this might be only the +retainers’ violence, and induced Ebbo to write a letter, complaining of +the outrages, but not blaming the Count, only begging that his followers +might be better restrained. The letter was conveyed by a lay brother—no +other messenger being safe. Ebbo had protested from the first that it +would be of no use, but he waited anxiously for the answer. + +Thus it stood, when conveyed to him by a tenant of the Ruprecht +cloister:— + + “Wot you, Eberhard, Freiherr von Adlerstein, that your house have + injured me by thought, word, and deed. Your great-grandfather + usurped my lands at the ford. Your grandfather stole my cattle and + burnt my mills. Then, in the war, he slew my brother Johann and + lamed for life my cousin Matthias. Your father slew eight of my + retainers and spoiled my crops. You yourself claim my land at the + ford, and secure the spoil which is justly mine. Therefore do I + declare war and feud against you. Therefore to you and all yours, to + your helpers and helpers’ helpers, am I a foe. And thereby shall I + have maintained my honour against you and yours. + + WOLFGANG, Graf von Schlangenwald. + HIEROM, Graf von Schlangenwald—his cousin.” + + &c. &c. &c. + +And a long list of names, all connected with Schlangenwald, followed; and +a large seal, bearing the snake of Schlangenwald, was appended thereto. + +“The old miscreant!” burst out Ebbo; “it is a feud brief.” + +“A feud brief!” exclaimed Friedel; “they are no longer according to the +law.” + +“Law?—what cares he for law or mercy either? Is this the way men act by +the League? Did we not swear to send no more feud letters, nor have +recourse to fist-right?” + +“We must appeal to the Markgraf of Wurtemburg,” said Friedel. + +It was the only measure in their power, though Ebbo winced at it; but his +oaths were recent, and his conscience would not allow him to transgress +them by doing himself justice. Besides, neither party could take the +castle of the other, and the only reprisals in his power would have been +on the defenceless peasants of Schlangenwald. He must therefore lay the +whole matter before the Markgraf, who was the head of the Swabian League, +and bound to redress his wrongs. He made his arrangements without +faltering, selecting the escort who were to accompany him, and insisting +on leaving Friedel to guard his mother and the castle. He would not for +the world have admitted the suggestion that the counsel and introduction +of Adlerstein Wildschloss would have been exceedingly useful to him. + +Poor Christina! It was a great deal too like that former departure, and +her heart was heavy within her! Friedel was equally unhappy at letting +his brother go without him, but it was quite necessary that he and the +few armed men who remained should show themselves at all points open to +the enemy in the course of the day, lest the Freiherr’s absence should be +remarked. He did his best to cheer his mother, by reminding her that +Ebbo was not likely to be taken at unawares as their father had been; and +he shared the prayers and chapel services, in which she poured out her +anxiety. + +The blue banner came safe up the Pass again, but Wurtemburg had been +formally civil to the young Freiherr; but he had laughed at the fend +letter as a mere old-fashioned habit of Schangenwald’s that it was better +not to notice, and he evidently regarded the stealing of a bull or the +misusing of a serf as far too petty a matter for his attention. It was +as if a judge had been called by a crying child to settle a nursery +quarrel. He told Ebbo that, being a free Baron of the empire, he must +keep his bounds respected; he was free to take and hang any spoiler he +could catch, but his bulls were his own affair: the League was not for +such gear. + +And a knight who had ridden out of Stuttgard with Ebbo had told him that +it was no wonder that this had been his reception, for not only was +Schlangenwald an old intimate of the Markgraf, but Swabia was claimed as +a fief of Wurtemburg, so that Ebbo’s direct homage to the Emperor, +without the interposition of the Markgraf, had made him no object of +favour. + +“What could be done?” asked Ebbo. + +“Fire some Schlangenwald hamlet, and teach him to respect yours,” said +the knight. + +“The poor serfs are guiltless.” + +“Ha! ha! as if they would not rob any of yours. Give and take, that’s +the way the empire wags, Sir Baron. Send him a feud letter in return, +with a goodly file of names at its foot, and teach him to respect you.” + +“But I have sworn to abstain from fist-right.” + +“Much you gain by so abstaining. If the League will not take the trouble +to right you, right yourself.” + +“I shall appeal to the Emperor, and tell him how his League is +administered.” + +“Young sir, if the Emperor were to guard every cow in his domains he +would have enough to do. You will never prosper with him without some +one to back your cause better than that free tongue of yours. Hast no +sister that thou couldst give in marriage to a stout baron that could aid +you with strong arm and prudent head?” + +“I have only one twin brother.” + +“Ah! the twins of Adlerstein! I remember me. Was not the other +Adlerstein seeking an alliance with your lady mother? Sure no better aid +could be found. He is hand and glove with young King Max.” + +“That may never be,” said Ebbo, haughtily. And, sure that he should +receive the same advice, he decided against turning aside to consult his +uncle at Ulm, and returned home in a mood that rejoiced Heinz and Hatto +with hopes of the old days, while it filled his mother with dreary dismay +and apprehension. + +“Schlangenwald should suffer next time he transgressed,” said Ebbo. “It +should not again be said that he himself was a coward who appealed to the +law because his hand could not keep his head.” + +The “next time” was when the first winter cold was setting in. A party +of reitern came to harry an outlying field, where Ulrich had raised a +scanty crop of rye. Tidings reached the castle in such good time that +the two brothers, with Heinz, the two Ulm grooms, Koppel, and a troop of +serfs, fell on the marauders before they had effected much damage, and +while some remained to trample out the fire, the rest pursued the enemy +even to the village of Schlangenwald. + +“Burn it, Herr Freiherr,” cried Heinz, hot with victory. “Let them learn +how to make havoc of our corn.” + +But a host of half-naked beings rushed out shrieking about sick children, +bed-ridden grandmothers, and crippled fathers, and falling on their +knees, with their hands stretched out to the young barons. Ebbo turned +away his head with hot tears in his eyes. “Friedel, what can we do?” + +“Not barbarous murder,” said Friedel. + +“But they brand us for cowards!” + +“The cowardice were in striking here,” and Friedel sprang to withhold +Koppel, who had lighted a bundle of dried fern ready to thrust into the +thatch. + +“Peasants!” said Ebbo, with the same impulse, “I spare you. You did not +this wrong. But bear word to your lord, that if he will meet me with +lance and sword, he will learn the valour of Adlerstein.” + +The serfs flung themselves before him in transports of gratitude, but he +turned hastily away and strode up the mountain, his cheek glowing as he +remembered, too late, that his defiance would be scoffed at, as a boy’s +vaunt. By and by he arrived at the hamlet, where he found a prisoner, a +scowling, abject fellow, already well beaten, and now held by two serfs. + +“The halter is ready, Herr Freiherr,” said old Ulrich, “and yon rowan +stump is still as stout as when your Herr grandsire hung three +lanzknechts on it in one day. We only waited your bidding.” + +“Quick then, and let me hear no more,” said Ebbo, about to descend the +pass, as if hastening from the execution of a wolf taken in a gin. + +“Has he seen the priest?” asked Friedel. + +The peasants looked as if this were one of Sir Friedel’s unaccountable +fancies. Ebbo paused, frowned, and muttered, but seeing a move as if to +drag the wretch towards the stunted bush overhanging an abyss, he +shouted, “Hold, Ulrich! Little Hans, do thou run down to the castle, and +bring Father Jodocus to do his office!” + +The serfs were much disgusted. “It never was so seen before, Herr +Freiherr,” remonstrated Heinz; “fang and hang was ever the word.” + +“What shrift had my lord’s father, or mine?” added Koppel. + +“Look you!” said Ebbo, turning sharply. “If Schlangenwald be a godless +ruffian, pitiless alike to soul and body, is that a cause that I should +stain myself too?” + +“It were true vengeance,” growled Koppel. + +“And now,” grumbled Ulrich, “will my lady hear, and there will be feeble +pleadings for the vermin’s life.” + +Like mutterings ensued, the purport of which was caught by Friedel, and +made him say to Ebbo, who would again have escaped the disagreeableness +of the scene, “We had better tarry at hand. Unless we hold the folk in +some check there will be no right execution. They will torture him to +death ere the priest comes.” + +Ebbo yielded, and began to pace the scanty area of the flat rock where +the need-fire was wont to blaze. After a time he exclaimed: “Friedel, +how couldst ask me? Knowst not that it sickens me to see a mountain cat +killed, save in full chase. And thou—why, thou art white as the snow +crags!” + +“Better conquer the folly than that he there should be put to needless +pain,” said Friedel, but with labouring breath that showed how terrible +was the prospect to his imaginative soul not inured to death-scenes like +those of his fellows. + +Just then a mocking laugh broke forth. “Ha!” cried Ebbo, looking keenly +down, “what do ye there? Fang and hang may be fair; fang and torment is +base! What was it, Lieschen?” + +“Only, Herr Freiherr, the caitiff craved drink, and the fleischerinn gave +him a cup from the stream behind the slaughter-house, where we killed the +swine. Fit for the like of him!” + +“By heavens, when I forbade torture!” cried Ebbo, leaping from the rock +in time to see the disgusting draught held to the lips of the captive, +whose hands were twisted back and bound with cruel tightness; for the +German boor, once roused from his lazy good-nature, was doubly savage +from stolidity. + +“Wretches!” cried Ebbo, striking right and left with the back of his +sword, among the serfs, and then cutting the thong that was eating into +the prisoner’s flesh, while Friedel caught up a wooden bowl, filled it +with pure water, and offered it to the captive, who drank deeply. + +“Now,” said Ebbo, “hast ought to say for thyself?” + +A low curse against things in general was the only answer. + +“What brought thee here?” continued Ebbo, in hopes of extracting some +excuse for pardon; but the prisoner only hung his head as one stupefied, +brutally indifferent and hardened against the mere trouble of answering. +Not another word could be extracted, and Ebbo’s position was very +uncomfortable, keeping guard over his condemned felon, with the sulky +peasants herding round, in fear of being balked of their prey; and the +reluctance growing on him every moment to taking life in cold blood. +Right of life and death was a heavy burden to a youth under seventeen, +unless he had been thoughtless and reckless, and from this Ebbo had been +prevented by his peculiar life. The lion cub had never tasted blood. + +The situation was prolonged beyond expectation. + +Many a time had the brothers paced their platform of rock, the criminal +had fallen into a dose, and women and boys were murmuring that they must +call home their kine and goats, and it was a shame to debar them of the +sight of the hanging, long before Hans came back between crying and +stammering, to say that Father Jodocus had fallen into so deep a study +over his book, that he only muttered “Coming,” then went into another +musing fit, whence no one could rouse him to do more than say “Coming! +Let him wait.” + +“I must go and bring him, if the thing is to be done,” said Friedel. + +“And let it last all night!” was the answer. “No, if the man were to +die, it should be at once, not by inches. Hark thee, rogue!” stirring +him with his foot. + +“Well, sir,” said the man, “is the hanging ready yet? You’ve been long +enough about it for us to have twisted the necks of every Adlerstein of +you all.” + +“Look thee, caitiff!” said Ebbo; “thou meritest the rope as well as any +wolf on the mountain, but we have kept thee so long in suspense, that if +thou canst say a word for thy life, or pledge thyself to meddle no more +with my lands, I’ll consider of thy doom.” + +“You have had plenty of time to consider it,” growled the fellow. + +A murmur, followed by a wrathful shout, rose among the villagers. +“Letting off the villain! No! No! Out upon him! He dares not!” + +“Dare!” thundered Ebbo, with flashing eyes. “Rascals as ye are, think ye +to hinder me from daring? Your will to be mine? There, fellow; away +with thee! Up to the Gemsbock’s Pass! And whoso would follow him, let +him do so at his peril!” + +The prisoner was prompt to gather himself up and rush like a hunted +animal to the path, at the entrance of which stood both twins, with drawn +swords, to defend the escape. Of course no one ventured to follow; and +surly discontented murmurs were the sole result as the peasants +dispersed. Ebbo, sheathing his sword, and putting his arm into his +brother’s, said: “What, Friedel, turned stony-hearted? Hadst never a +word for the poor caitiff?” + +“I knew thou wouldst never do the deed,” said Friedel, smiling. + +“It was such wretched prey,” said Ebbo. “Yet shall I be despised for +this! Would that thou hadst let me string him up shriftless, as any +other man had done, and there would have been an end of it!” + +And even his mother’s satisfaction did not greatly comfort Ebbo, for he +was of the age to feel more ashamed of a solecism than a crime. +Christina perceived that this was one of his most critical periods of +life, baited as he was by the enemy of his race, and feeling all the +disadvantages which heart and conscience gave him in dealing with a man +who had neither, at a time when public opinion was always with the most +masterful. The necessity of arming his retainers and having fighting men +as a guard were additional temptations to hereditary habits of violence; +and that so proud and fiery a nature as his should never become involved +in them was almost beyond hope. Even present danger seemed more around +than ever before. The estate was almost in a state of siege, and +Christina never saw her sons quit the castle without thinking of their +father’s fate, and passing into the chapel to entreat for their return +unscathed in body or soul. The snow, which she had so often hailed as a +friend, was never more welcome than this winter; not merely as shutting +the enemy out, and her sons in, but as cutting off all danger of a visit +from her suitor, who would now come armed with his late sufferings in her +behalf; and, moreover, with all the urgent need of a wise and respected +head and protector for her sons. Yet the more evident the expediency +became, the greater grew her distaste. + +Still the lonely life weighed heavily on Ebbo. Light-hearted Friedel was +ever busy and happy, were he chasing the grim winter game—the bear and +wolf—with his brother, fencing in the hall, learning Greek with the +chaplain, reading or singing to his mother, or carving graceful angel +forms to adorn the chapel. Or he could at all times soar into a minstrel +dream of pure chivalrous semi-allegorical romance, sometimes told over +the glowing embers to his mother and brother. All that came to Friedel +was joy, from battling with the bear on a frozen rock, to persuading rude +little Hans to come to the Frau Freiherrinn to learn his Paternoster. +But the elder twin might hunt, might fence, might smile or kindle at his +brother’s lay, but ever with a restless gloom on him, a doubt of the +future which made him impatient of the present, and led to a sharpness +and hastiness of manner that broke forth in anger at slight offences. + +“The matron’s coif succeeding the widow’s veil,” Friedel heard him +muttering even in sleep, and more than once listened to it as Ebbo leant +over the battlements—as he looked over the white world to the gray mist +above the city of Ulm. + +“Thou, who mockest my forebodings and fancies, to dwell on that gipsy +augury!” argued Friedel. “As thou saidst at the time, Wildschloss’s +looks gave shrewd cause for it.” + +“The answer is in mine own heart,” answered Ebbo. “Since our stay at +Ulm, I have ever felt as though the sweet motherling were less my own! +And the same with my house and lands. Rule as I will, a mocking laugh +comes back to me, saying: ‘Thou art but a boy, Sir Baron, thou dost but +play at lords and knights.’ If I had hung yon rogue of a reiter, I +wonder if I had felt my grasp more real?” + +“Nay,” said Friedel, glancing from the sparkling white slopes to the pure +blue above, “our whole life is but a play at lords and knights, with the +blessed saints as witnesses of our sport in the tilt-yard.” + +“Were it merely that,” said Ebbo, impatiently, “I were not so galled. +Something hangs over us, Friedel! I long that these snows would melt, +that I might at least know what it is!” + + + + +CHAPTER XVII +BRIDGING THE FORD + + +The snow melted, the torrent became a flood, then contracted itself, but +was still a broad stream, when one spring afternoon Ebbo showed his +brother some wains making for the ford, adding, “It cannot be rightly +passable. They will come to loss. I shall get the men together to aid +them.” + +He blew a blast on his horn, and added, “The knaves will be alert enough +if they hope to meddle with honest men’s luggage.” + +“See,” and Friedel pointed to the thicket to the westward of the meadow +around the stream, where the beech trees were budding, but not yet +forming a full mass of verdure, “is not the Snake in the wood? Methinks +I spy the glitter of his scales.” + +“By heavens, the villains are lying in wait for the travellers at our +landing-place,” cried Ebbo, and again raising the bugle to his lips, he +sent forth three notes well known as a call to arms. Their echoes came +back from the rocks, followed instantly by lusty jodels, and the brothers +rushed into the hall to take down their light head-pieces and corslets, +answering in haste their mother’s startled questions, by telling of the +endangered travellers, and the Schlangenwald ambush. She looked white +and trembled, but said no word to hinder them; only as she clasped +Friedel’s corslet, she entreated them to take fuller armour. + +“We must speed the short way down the rock,” said Ebbo, “and cannot be +cumbered with heavy harness. Sweet motherling, fear not; but let a meal +be spread for our rescued captives. Ho, Heinz, ’tis against the +Schlangenwald rascals. Art too stiff to go down the rock path?” + +“No; nor down the abyss, could I strike a good stroke against +Schlangenwald at the bottom of it,” quoth Heinz. + +“Nor see vermin set free by the Freiherr,” growled Koppel; but the words +were lost in Ebbo’s loud commands to the men, as Friedel and Hatto handed +down the weapons to them. + +The convoy had by this time halted, evidently to try the ford. A +horseman crossed, and found it practicable, for a waggon proceeded to +make the attempt. + +“Now is our time,” said Ebbo, who was standing on the narrow ledge +between the castle and the precipitous path leading to the meadow. “One +waggon may get over, but the second or third will stick in the ruts that +it leaves. Now we will drop from our crag, and if the Snake falls on +them, why, then for a pounce of the Eagle.” + +The two young knights, so goodly in their bright steel, knelt for their +mother’s blessing, and then sprang like chamois down the ivy-twined +steep, followed by their men, and were lost to sight among the bushes and +rocks. Yet even while her frame quivered with fear, her heart swelled at +the thought what a gulf there was between these days and those when she +had hidden her face in despair, while Ermentrude watched the Debateable +Ford. + +She watched now in suspense, indeed, but with exultation instead of +shame, as two waggons safely crossed; but the third stuck fast, and +presently turned over in the stream, impelled sideways by the efforts of +the struggling horses. Then, amid endeavours to disentangle the animals +and succour the driver, the travellers were attacked by a party of armed +men, who dashed out of the beechwood, and fell on the main body of the +waggons, which were waiting on the bit of bare shingly soil that lay +between the new and old channels. A wild mêlée was all that Christina +could see—weapons raised, horses starting, men rushing from the river, +while the clang and the shout rose even to the castle. + +Hark! Out rings the clear call, “The Eagle to the rescue!” There they +speed over the meadow, the two slender forms with glancing helms! O +overrun not the followers, rush not into needless danger! There is +Koppel almost up with them with his big axe—Heinz’s broad shoulders near. +Heaven strike with them! Visit not their forefathers’ sin on those pure +spirits. Some are flying. Some one has fallen! O heavens! on which +side? Ah! it is into the Schlangenwald woods that the fugitives direct +their flight. Three—four—the whole troop pursued! Go not too far! Run +not into needless risk! Your work is done, and gallantly. Well done, +young knights of Adlerstein! Which of you is it that stands pointing out +safe standing-ground for the men that are raising the waggon? Which of +you is it who stands in converse with a burgher form? Thanks and +blessings! the lads are safe, and full knightly hath been their first +emprise. + +A quarter of an hour later, a gay step mounted the ascent, and Friedel’s +bright face laughed from his helmet: “There, mother, will you crown your +knights? Could you see Ebbo bear down the chief squire? for the old +Snake was not there himself. And whom do you think we rescued, besides a +whole band of Venetian traders to whom he had joined himself? Why, my +uncle’s friend, the architect, of whom he used to speak—Master Moritz +Schleiermacher.” + +“Moritz Schleiermacher! I knew him as a boy.” + +“He had been laying out a Lustgarten for the Romish king at Innspruck, +and he is a stout man of his hands, and attempted defence; but he had +such a shrewd blow before we came up, that he lay like one dead; and when +he was lifted up, he gazed at us like one moon-struck, and said, ‘Are my +eyes dazed, or are these the twins of Adlerstein, that are as like as +face to mirror? Lads, lads, your uncle looked not to hear of you acting +in this sort.’ But soon we and his people let him know how it was, and +that eagles do not have the manner of snakes.” + +“Poor Master Moritz! Is he much hurt? Is Ebbo bringing him up hither?” + +“No, mother, he is but giddied and stunned, and now must you send down +store of sausage, sourkraut, meat, wine, and beer; for the wains cannot +all cross till daylight, and we must keep ward all night lest the +Schlangenwalden should fall on them again. Plenty of good cheer, mother, +to make a right merry watch.” + +“Take heed, Friedel mine; a merry watch is scarce a safe one.” + +“Even so, sweet motherling, and therefore must Ebbo and I share it. You +must mete out your liquor wisely, you see, enough for the credit of +Adlerstein, and enough to keep out the marsh fog, yet not enough to make +us snore too soundly. I am going to take my lute; it would be using it +ill not to let it enjoy such a chance as a midnight watch.” + +So away went the light-hearted boy, and by and by Christina saw the red +watch-fire as she gazed from her turret window. She would have been +pleased to see how, marshalled by a merchant who had crossed the desert +from Egypt to Palestine, the waggons were ranged in a circle, and the +watches told off, while the food and drink were carefully portioned out. + +Freiherr Ebbo, on his own ground, as champion and host, was far more at +ease than in the city, and became very friendly with the merchants and +architect as they sat round the bright fire, conversing, or at times +challenging the mountain echoes by songs to the sound of Friedel’s lute. +When the stars grew bright, most lay down to sleep in the waggons, while +others watched, pacing up and down till Karl’s waggon should be over the +mountain, and the vigil was relieved. + +No disturbance took place, and at sunrise a hasty meal was partaken of, +and the work of crossing the river was set in hand. + +“Pity,” said Moritz, the architect, “that this ford were not spanned by a +bridge, to the avoiding of danger and spoil.” + +“Who could build such a bridge?” asked Ebbo. + +“Yourself, Herr Freiherr, in union with us burghers of Ulm. It were well +worth your while to give land and stone, and ours to give labour and +skill, provided we fixed a toll on the passage, which would be willingly +paid to save peril and delay.” + +The brothers caught at the idea, and the merchants agreed that such a +bridge would be an inestimable boon to all traffickers between Constance, +Ulm, and Augsburg, and would attract many travellers who were scared away +by the evil fame of the Debateable Ford. Master Moritz looked at the +stone of the mountain, pronounced it excellent material, and already +sketched the span of the arches with a view to winter torrents. As to +the site, the best was on the firm ground above the ford; but here only +one side was Adlerstein, while on the other Ebbo claimed both banks, and +it was probable that an equally sound foundation could be obtained, only +with more cost and delay. + +After this survey, the travellers took leave of the barons, promising to +write when their fellow-citizens should have been sounded as to the +bridge; and Ebbo remained in high spirits, with such brilliant purposes +that he had quite forgotten his gloomy forebodings. “Peace instead of +war at home,” he said; “with the revenue it will bring, I will build a +mill, and set our lads to work, so that they may become less dull and +doltish than their parents. Then will we follow the Emperor with a train +that none need despise! No one will talk now of Adlerstein not being +able to take care of himself!” + +Letters came from Ulm, saying that the guilds of mercers and wine +merchants were delighted with the project, and invited the Baron of +Adlerstein to a council at the Rathhaus. Master Sorel begged the mother +to come with her sons to be his guest; but fearing the neighbourhood of +Sir Kasimir, she remained at home, with Heinz for her seneschal while her +sons rode to the city. There Ebbo found that his late exploit and his +future plan had made him a person of much greater consideration than on +his last visit, and he demeaned himself with far more ease and affability +in consequence. He had affairs on his hands too, and felt more than one +year older. + +The two guilds agreed to build the bridge, and share the toll with the +Baron in return for the ground and materials; but they preferred the plan +that placed one pier on the Schlangenwald bank, and proposed to write to +the Count an offer to include him in the scheme, awarding him a share of +the profits in proportion to his contribution. However vexed at the turn +affairs had taken, Ebbo could offer no valid objection, and was obliged +to affix his signature to the letter in company with the guildmasters. + +It was despatched by the city pursuivants— + + The only men who safe might ride; + Their errands on the border side; + +and a meeting was appointed in the Rathhaus for the day of their expected +return. The higher burghers sat on their carved chairs in the grand old +hall, the lesser magnates on benches, and Ebbo, in an elbowed seat far +too spacious for his slender proportions, met a glance from Friedel that +told him his merry brother was thinking of the frog and the ox. The +pursuivants entered—hardy, shrewd-looking men, with the city arms decking +them wherever there was room for them. + +“Honour-worthy sirs,” they said, “no letter did the Graf von +Schlangenwald return.” + +“Sent he no message?” demanded Moritz Schleiermacher. + +“Yea, worthy sir, but scarce befitting this reverend assembly.” On being +pressed, however, it was repeated: “The Lord Count was pleased to swear +at what he termed the insolence of the city in sending him heralds, ‘as +if,’ said he, ‘the dogs,’ your worships, ‘were his equals.’ Then having +cursed your worships, he reviled the crooked writing of Herr Clerk +Diedrichson, and called his chaplain to read it to him. Herr Priest +could scarce read three lines for his foul language about the ford. +‘Never,’ said he, ‘would he consent to raising a bridge—a mean trick,’ so +said he, ‘for defrauding him of his rights to what the flood sent him.’” + +“But,” asked Ebbo, “took he no note of our explanation, that if he give +not the upper bank, we will build lower, where both sides are my own?” + +“He passed it not entirely over,” replied the messenger. + +“What said he—the very words?” demanded Ebbo, with the paling cheek and +low voice that made his passion often seem like patience. + +“He said—(the Herr Freiherr will pardon me for repeating the words)—he +said, ‘Tell the misproud mongrel of Adlerstein that he had best sit firm +in his own saddle ere meddling with his betters, and if he touch one +pebble of the Braunwasser, he will rue it. And before your city-folk +take up with him or his, they had best learn whether he have any right at +all in the case.’” + +“His right is plain,” said Master Gottfried; “full proofs were given in, +and his investiture by the Kaisar forms a title in itself. It is mere +bravado, and an endeavour to make mischief between the Baron and the +city.” + +“Even so did I explain, Herr Guildmaster,” said the pursuivant; “but, +pardon me, the Count laughed me to scorn, and quoth he, ‘asked the Kaisar +for proof of his father’s death!’” + +“Mere mischief-making, as before,” said Master Gottfried, while his +nephews started with amaze. “His father’s death was proved by an +eye-witness, whom you still have in your train, have you not, Herr +Freiherr?” + +“Yea,” replied Ebbo, “he is at Adlerstein now, Heinrich Bauermann, called +the Schneiderlein, a lanzknecht, who alone escaped the slaughter, and +from whom we have often heard how my father died, choked in his own +blood, from a deep breast-wound, immediately after he had sent home his +last greetings to my lady mother.” + +“Was the corpse restored?” asked the able Rathsherr Ulrich. + +“No,” said Ebbo. “Almost all our retainers had perished, and when a +friar was sent to the hostel to bring home the remains, it appeared that +the treacherous foe had borne them off—nay, my grandfather’s head was +sent to the Diet!” + +The whole assembly agreed that the Count could only mean to make the +absence of direct evidence about a murder committed eighteen years ago +tell in sowing distrust between the allies. The suggestion was not worth +a thought, and it was plain that no site would be available except the +Debateable Strand. To this, however, Ebbo’s title was assailable, both +on account of his minority, as well as his father’s unproved death, and +of the disputed claim to the ground. The Rathsherr, Master Gottfried, +and others, therefore recommended deferring the work till the Baron +should be of age, when, on again tendering his allegiance, he might +obtain a distinct recognition of his marches. But this policy did not +consort with the quick spirit of Moritz Schleiermacher, nor with the +convenience of the mercers and wine-merchants, who were constant +sufferers by the want of a bridge, and afraid of waiting four years, in +which a lad like the Baron might return to the nominal instincts of his +class, or the Braunwasser might take back the land it had given; whilst +Ebbo himself was urgent, with all the defiant fire of youth, to begin +building at once in spite of all gainsayers. + +“Strife and blood will it cost,” said Master Sorel, gravely. + +“What can be had worth the having save at cost of strife and blood?” said +Ebbo, with a glance of fire. + +“Youth speaks of counting the cost. Little knows it what it saith,” +sighed Master Gottfried. + +“Nay,” returned the Rathsherr, “were it otherwise, who would have the +heart for enterprise?” + +So the young knights mounted, and had ridden about half the way in +silence, when Ebbo exclaimed, “Friedel”—and as his brother started, “What +art musing on?” + +“What thou art thinking of,” said Friedel, turning on him an eye that had +not only something of the brightness but of the penetration of a sunbeam. + +“I do not think thereon at all,” said Ebbo, gloomily. “It is a figment +of the old serpent to hinder us from snatching his prey from him.” + +“Nevertheless,” said Friedel, “I cannot but remember that the Genoese +merchant of old told us of a German noble sold by his foes to the Moors.” + +“Folly! That tale was too recent to concern my father.” + +“I did not think it did,” said Friedel; “but mayhap that noble’s family +rest equally certain of his death.” + +“Pfui!” said Ebbo, hotly; “hast not heard fifty times how he died even in +speaking, and how Heinz crossed his hands on his breast? What wouldst +have more?” + +“Hardly even that,” said Friedel, slightly smiling. + +“Tush!” hastily returned his brother, “I meant only by way of proof. +Would an honest old fellow like Heinz be a deceiver?” + +“Not wittingly. Yet I would fain ride to that hostel and make +inquiries!” + +“The traitor host met his deserts, and was broken on the wheel for +murdering a pedlar a year ago,” said Ebbo. “I would I knew where my +father was buried, for then would I bring his corpse honourably back; but +as to his being a living man, I will not have it spoken of to trouble my +mother.” + +“To trouble her?” exclaimed Friedel. + +“To trouble her,” repeated Ebbo. “Long since hath passed the pang of his +loss, and there is reason in what old Sorel says, that he must have been +a rugged, untaught savage, with little in common with the gentle one, and +that tender memory hath decked him out as he never could have been. Nay, +Friedel, it is but sense. What could a man have been under the +granddame’s breeding?” + +“It becomes not thee to say so!” returned Friedel. “Nay, he could learn +to love our mother.” + +“One sign of grace, but doubtless she loved him the better for their +having been so little together. Her heart is at peace, believing him in +his grave; but let her imagine him in Schlangenwald’s dungeon, or some +Moorish galley, if thou likest it better, and how will her mild spirit be +rent!” + +“It might be so,” said Friedel, thoughtfully. “It may be best to keep +this secret from her till we have fuller certainty.” + +“Agreed then,” said Ebbo, “unless the Wildschloss fellow should again +molest us, when his answer is ready.” + +“Is this just towards my mother?” said Friedel. + +“Just! What mean’st thou? Is it not our office and our dearest right to +shield our mother from care? And is not her chief wish to be rid of the +Wildschloss suit?” + +Nevertheless Ebbo was moody all the way home, but when there he devoted +himself in his most eager and winning way to his mother, telling her of +Master Gottfried’s woodcuts, and Hausfrau Johanna’s rheumatism, and of +all the news of the country, in especial that the Kaisar was at Lintz, +very ill with a gangrene in his leg, said to have been caused by his +habit of always kicking doors open, and that his doctors thought of +amputation, a horrible idea in the fifteenth century. The young baron +was evidently bent on proving that no one could make his mother so happy +as he could; and he was not far wrong there. + +Friedel, however, could not rest till he had followed Heinz to the +stable, and speaking over the back of the old white mare, the only other +survivor of the massacre, had asked him once more for the particulars, a +tale he was never loth to tell; but when Friedel further demanded whether +he was certain of having seen the death of his younger lord, he replied, +as if hurt: “What, think you I would have quitted him while life was yet +in him?” + +“No, certainly, good Heinz; yet I would fain know by what tokens thou +knewest his death.” + +“Ah! Sir Friedel; when you have seen a stricken field or two, you will +not ask how I know death from life.” + +“Is a swoon so utterly unlike death?” + +“I say not but that an inexperienced youth might be mistaken,” said +Heinz; “but for one who had learned the bloody trade, it were impossible. +Why ask, sir?” + +“Because,” said Friedel, low and mysteriously—“my brother would not have +my mother know it, but—Count Schlangenwald demanded whether we could +prove my father’s death.” + +“Prove! He could not choose but die with three such wounds, as the old +ruffian knows. I shall bless the day, Sir Friedmund, when I see you or +your brother give back those strokes! A heavy reckoning be his.” + +“We all deem that line only meant to cross our designs,” said Friedel. +“Yet, Heinz, I would I knew how to find out what passed when thou wast +gone. Is there no servant at the inn—no retainer of Schlangenwald that +aught could be learnt from?” + +“By St. Gertrude,” roughly answered the Schneiderlein, “if you cannot be +satisfied with the oath of a man like me, who would have given his life +to save your father, I know not what will please you.” + +Friedel, with his wonted good-nature, set himself to pacify the warrior +with assurances of his trust; yet while Ebbo plunged more eagerly into +plans for the bridge-building, Friedel drew more and more into his old +world of musings; and many a summer afternoon was spent by him at the +Ptarmigan’s Mere, in deep communings with himself, as one revolving a +purpose. + +Christina could not but observe, with a strange sense of foreboding, +that, while one son was more than ever in the lonely mountain heights, +the other was far more at the base. Master Moritz Schleiermacher was a +constant guest at the castle, and Ebbo was much taken up with his +companionship. He was a strong, shrewd man, still young, but with much +experience, and he knew how to adapt himself to intercourse with the +proud nobility, preserving an independent bearing, while avoiding all +that haughtiness could take umbrage at; and thus he was acquiring a +greater influence over Ebbo than was perceived by any save the watchful +mother, who began to fear lest her son was acquiring an infusion of +worldly wisdom and eagerness for gain that would indeed be a severance +between him and his brother. + +If she had known the real difference that unconsciously kept her sons +apart, her heart would have ached yet more. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII +FRIEDMUND IN THE CLOUDS + + +THE stone was quarried high on the mountain, and a direct road was made +for bringing it down to the water-side. The castle profited by the road +in accessibility, but its impregnability was so far lessened. However, +as Ebbo said, it was to be a friendly harbour, instead of a robber crag, +and in case of need the communication could easily be destroyed. The +blocks of stone were brought down, and wooden sheds were erected for the +workmen in the meadow. + +In August, however, came tidings that, after two amputations of his +diseased limb, the Kaisar Friedrich III. had died—it was said from over +free use of melons in the fever consequent on the operation. His death +was not likely to make much change in the government, which had of late +been left to his son. At this time the King of the Romans (for the title +of Kaisar was conferred only by coronation by the Pope, and this +Maximilian never received) was at Innspruck collecting troops for the +deliverance of Styria and Carinthia from a horde of invading Turks. The +Markgraf of Wurtemburg sent an intimation to all the Swabian League that +the new sovereign would be best pleased if their homage were paid to him +in his camp at the head of their armed retainers. + +Here was the way of enterprise and honour open at last, and the young +barons of Adlerstein eagerly prepared for it, equipping their vassals and +sending to Ulm to take three or four men-at-arms into their pay, so as to +make up twenty lances as the contingent of Adlerstein. It was decided +that Christina should spend the time of their absence at Ulm, whither her +sons would escort her on their way to the camp. The last busy day was +over, and in the summer evening Christina was sitting on the castle steps +listening to Ebbo’s eager talk of his plans of interesting his hero, the +King of the Romans, in his bridge, and obtaining full recognition of his +claim to the Debateable Strand, where the busy workmen could be seen far +below. + +Presently Ebbo, as usual when left to himself, grew restless for want of +Friedel, and exclaiming, “The musing fit is on him!—he will stay all +night at the tarn if I fetch him not,” he set off in quest of him, +passing through the hamlet to look for him in the chapel on his way. + +Not finding Friedel there, he was, however, some way up towards the tarn, +when he met his brother wearing the beamy yet awestruck look that he +often brought from the mountain height, yet with a steadfast expression +of resolute purpose on his face. + +“Ah, dreamer!” said Ebbo, “I knew where to seek thee! Ever in the +clouds!” + +“Yes, I have been to the tarn,” said Friedel, throwing his arm round his +brother’s neck in their boyish fashion. “It has been very dear to me, +and I longed to see its gray depths once more.” + +“Once! Yea manifold times shalt thou see them,” said Ebbo. +“Schleiermacher tells me that these are no Janissaries, but a mere +miscreant horde, even by whom glory can scarce be gained, and no peril at +all.” + +“I know not,” said Friedel, “but it is to me as if I were taking my leave +of all these purple hollows and heaven-lighted peaks cleaving the sky. +All the more, Ebbo, since I have made up my mind to a resolution.” + +“Nay, none of the old monkish fancies,” cried Ebbo, “against them thou +art sworn, so long as I am true knight.” + +“No, it is not the monkish fancy, but I am convinced that it is my duty +to strive to ascertain my father’s fate. Hold, I say not that it is +thine. Thou hast thy charge here—” + +“Looking for a dead man,” growled Ebbo; “a proper quest!” + +“Not so,” returned Friedel. “At the camp it will surely be possible to +learn, through either Schlangenwald or his men, how it went with my +father. Men say that his surviving son, the Teutonic knight, is of very +different mould. He might bring something to light. Were it proved to +be as the Schneiderlein avers, then would our conscience be at rest; but, +if he were in Schlangenwald’s dungeon—” + +“Folly! Impossible!” + +“Yet men have pined eighteen years in dark vaults,” said Friedel; “and, +when I think that so may he have wasted for the whole of our lives that +have been so free and joyous on his own mountain, it irks me to bound on +the heather or gaze at the stars.” + +“If the serpent hath dared,” cried Ebbo, “though it is mere folly to +think of it, we would summon the League and have his castle about his +ears! Not that I believe it.” + +“Scarce do I,” said Friedel; “but there haunts me evermore the +description of the kindly German chained between the decks of the +Corsair’s galley. Once and again have I dreamt thereof. And, Ebbo, +recollect the prediction that so fretted thee. Might not yon +dark-cheeked woman have had some knowledge of the East and its captives?” + +Ebbo started, but resumed his former tone. “So thou wouldst begin thine +errantry like Sir Hildebert and Sir Hildebrand in the ‘Rose garden’? +Have a care. Such quests end in mortal conflict between the unknown +father and son.” + +“I should know him,” said Friedel, enthusiastically, “or, at least, he +would know my mother’s son in me; and, could I no otherwise ransom him, I +would ply the oar in his stead.” + +“A fine exchange for my mother and me,” gloomily laughed Ebbo, “to lose +thee, my sublimated self, for a rude, savage lord, who would straightway +undo all our work, and rate and misuse our sweet mother for being more +civilized than himself.” + +“Shame, Ebbo!” cried Friedel, “or art thou but in jest?” + +“So far in jest that thou wilt never go, puissant Sir Hildebert,” +returned Ebbo, drawing him closer. “Thou wilt learn—as I also trust to +do—in what nameless hole the serpent hid his remains. Then shall they be +duly coffined and blazoned. All the monks in the cloisters for twenty +miles round shall sing requiems, and thou and I will walk bareheaded, +with candles in our hands, by the bier, till we rest him in the Blessed +Friedmund’s chapel; and there Lucas Handlein shall carve his tomb, and +thou shalt sit for the likeness.” + +“So may it end,” said Friedel, “but either I will know him dead, or +endeavour somewhat in his behalf. And that the need is real, as well as +the purpose blessed, I have become the more certain, for, Ebbo, as I rose +to descend the hill, I saw on the cloud our patron’s very form—I saw +myself kneel before him and receive his blessing.” + +Ebbo burst out laughing. “Now know I that it is indeed as saith +Schleiermacher,” he said, “and that these phantoms of the Blessed +Friedmund are but shadows cast by the sun on the vapours of the ravine. +See, Friedel, I had gone to seek thee at the chapel, and meeting Father +Norbert, I bent my knee, that I might take his farewell blessing. I had +the substance, thou the shadow, thou dreamer!” + +Friedel was as much mortified for the moment as his gentle nature could +be. Then he resumed his sweet smile, saying, “Be it so! I have oft read +that men are too prone to take visions and special providences to +themselves, and now I have proved the truth of the saying.” + +“And,” said Ebbo, “thou seest thy purpose is as baseless as thy vision?” + +“No, Ebbo. It grieves me to differ from thee, but my resolve is older +than the fancy, and may not be shaken because I was vain enough to +believe that the Blessed Friedmund could stoop to bless me.” + +“Ha!” shouted Ebbo, glad to see an object on which to vent his secret +annoyance. “Who goes there, skulking round the rocks? Here, rogue, what +art after here?” + +“No harm,” sullenly replied a half-clad boy. + +“Whence art thou? From Schlangenwald, to spy what more we can be robbed +of? The lash—” + +“Hold,” interposed Friedel. “Perchance the poor lad had no evil +purposes. Didst lose thy way?” + +“No, sir, my mother sent me.” + +“I thought so,” cried Ebbo. “This comes of sparing the nest of thankless +adders!” + +“Nay,” said Friedel, “mayhap it is because they are not thankless that +the poor fellow is here.” + +“Sir,” said the boy, coming nearer, “I will tell _you_—_you_ I will +tell—not him who threatens. Mother said you spared our huts, and the +lady gave us bread when we came to the castle gate in winter, and she +would not see the reiters lay waste your folk’s doings down there without +warning you.” + +“My good lad! What saidst thou?” cried Ebbo, but the boy seemed dumb +before him, and Friedel repeated the question ere he answered: “All the +lanzknechts and reiters are at the castle, and the Herr Graf has taken +all my father’s young sheep for them, a plague upon him. And our folk +are warned to be at the muster rock to-morrow morn, each with a bundle of +straw and a pine brand; and Black Berend heard the body squire say the +Herr Graf had sworn not to go to the wars till every stick at the ford be +burnt, every stone drowned, every workman hung.” + +Ebbo, in a transport of indignation and gratitude, thrust his hand into +his pouch, and threw the boy a handful of groschen, while Friedel gave +warm thanks, in the utmost haste, ere both brothers sprang with headlong +speed down the wild path, to take advantage of the timely intelligence. + +The little council of war was speedily assembled, consisting of the +barons, their mother, Master Moritz Schleiermacher, Heinz, and Hatto. To +bring up to the castle the workmen, their families, and the more valuable +implements, was at once decided; and Christina asked whether there would +be anything left worth defending, and whether the Schlangenwalden might +not expend their fury on the scaffold, which could be newly supplied from +the forest, the huts, which could be quickly restored, and the stones, +which could hardly be damaged. The enemy must proceed to the camp in a +day or two, and the building would be less assailable by their return; +and, besides, it was scarcely lawful to enter on a private war when the +imperial banner was in the field. + +“Craving your pardon, gracious lady,” said the architect, “that blame +rests with him who provokes the war. See, lord baron, there is time to +send to Ulm, where the two guilds, our allies, will at once equip their +trained bands and despatch them. We meanwhile will hold the knaves in +check, and, by the time our burghers come up, the snake brood will have +had such a lesson as they will not soon forget. Said I well, Herr +Freiherr?” + +“Right bravely,” said Ebbo. “It consorts not with our honour or rights, +with my pledges to Ulm, or the fame of my house, to shut ourselves up and +see the rogues work their will scatheless. My own score of men, besides +the stouter masons, carpenters, and serfs, will be fully enough to make +the old serpent of the wood rue the day, even without the aid of the +burghers. Not a word against it, dearest mother. None is so wise as +thou in matters of peace, but honour is here concerned.” + +“My question is,” persevered the mother, “whether honour be not better +served by obeying the summons of the king against the infidel, with the +men thou hast called together at his behest? Let the count do his worst; +he gives thee legal ground of complaint to lay before the king and the +League, and all may there be more firmly established.” + +“That were admirable counsel, lady,” said Schleiermacher, “well suited to +the honour-worthy guildmaster Sorel, and to our justice-loving city; but, +in matters of baronial rights and aggressions, king and League are wont +to help those that help themselves, and those that are over nice as to +law and justice come by the worst.” + +“Not the worst in the long run,” said Friedel. + +“Thine unearthly code will not serve us here, Friedel mine,” returned his +brother. “Did I not defend the work I have begun, I should be branded as +a weak fool. Nor will I see the foes of my house insult me without +striking a fair stroke. Hap what hap, the Debateable Ford shall be +debated! Call in the serfs, Hatto, and arm them. Mother, order a good +supper for them. Master Moritz, let us summon thy masons and carpenters, +and see who is a good man with his hands among them.” + +Christina saw that remonstrance was vain. The days of peril and violence +were coming back again; and all she could take comfort in was, that, if +not wholly right, her son was far from wholly wrong, and that with a free +heart she could pray for a blessing on him and on his arms. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX +THE FIGHT AT THE FORD + + +BY the early September sunrise the thicket beneath the pass was +sheltering the twenty well-appointed reiters of Adlerstein, each +standing, holding his horse by the bridle, ready to mount at the instant. +In their rear were the serfs and artisans, some with axes, scythes, or +ploughshares, a few with cross-bows, and Jobst and his sons with the long +blackened poles used for stirring their charcoal fires. In advance were +Master Moritz and the two barons, the former in a stout plain steel +helmet, cuirass, and gauntlets, a sword, and those new-fashioned weapons, +pistols; the latter in full knightly armour, exactly alike, from the +gilt-spurred heel to the eagle-crested helm, and often moving restlessly +forward to watch for the enemy, though taking care not to be betrayed by +the glitter of their mail. So long did they wait that there was even a +doubt whether it might not have been a false alarm; the boy was +vituperated, and it was proposed to despatch a spy to see whether +anything were doing at Schlangenwald. + +At length a rustling and rushing were heard; then a clank of armour. +Ebbo vaulted into the saddle, and gave the word to mount; Schleiermacher, +who always fought on foot, stepped up to him. “Keep back your men, Herr +Freiherr. Let his design be manifest. We must not be said to have +fallen on him on his way to the muster.” + +“It would be but as he served my father!” muttered Ebbo, forced, however, +to restrain himself, though with boiling blood, as the tramp of horses +shook the ground, and bright armour became visible on the further side of +the stream. + +For the first time, the brothers beheld the foe of their line. He was +seated on a clumsy black horse, and sheathed in full armour, and was +apparently a large heavy man, whose powerful proportions were becoming +unwieldy as he advanced in life. The dragon on his crest and shield +would have made him known to the twins, even without the deadly curse +that passed the Schneiderlein’s lips at the sight. As the armed troop, +out-numbering the Adlersteiners by about a dozen, and followed by a +rabble with straw and pine brands, came forth on the meadow, the count +halted and appeared to be giving orders. + +“The ruffian! He is calling them on! Now—” began Ebbo. + +“Nay, there is no sign yet that he is not peacefully on his journey to +the camp,” responded Moritz; and, chafing with impatient fury, the knight +waited while Schlangenwald rode towards the old channel of the +Braunwasser, and there, drawing his rein, and sitting like a statue in +his stirrups, he could hear him shout: “The lazy dogs are not astir yet. +We will give them a réveille. Forward with your brands!” + +“Now!” and Ebbo’s cream-coloured horse leapt forth, as the whole band +flashed into the sunshine from the greenwood covert. + +“Who troubles the workmen on my land?” shouted Ebbo. + +“Who you may be I care not,” replied the count, “but when I find +strangers unlicensed on my lands, I burn down their huts. On, fellows!” + +“Back, fellows!” called Ebbo. “Whoso touches a stick on Adlerstein +ground shall suffer.” + +“So!” said the count, “this is the burgher-bred, burgher-fed varlet, that +calls himself of Adlerstein! Boy, thou had best be warned. Wert thou +true-blooded, it were worth my while to maintain my rights against thee. +Craven as thou art, not even with spirit to accept my feud, I would fain +not have the trouble of sweeping thee from my path.” + +“Herr Graf, as true Freiherr and belted knight, I defy thee! I proclaim +my right to this ground, and whoso damages those I place there must do +battle with me.” + +“Thou wilt have it then,” said the count, taking his heavy lance from his +squire, closing his visor, and wheeling back his horse, so as to give +space for his career. + +Ebbo did the like, while Friedel on one side, and Hierom von +Schlangenwald on the other, kept their men in array, awaiting the issue +of the strife between their leaders—the fire of seventeen against the +force of fifty-six. + +They closed in full shock, with shivered lances and rearing, pawing +horses, but without damage to either. Each drew his sword, and they were +pressing together, when Heinz, seeing a Schlangenwalder aiming with his +cross-bow, rode at him furiously, and the mêlée became general; shots +were fired, not only from cross-bows, but from arquebuses, and in the +throng Friedel lost sight of the main combat between his brother and the +count. + +Suddenly however there was a crash, as of falling men and horses, with a +shout of victory strangely mingled with a cry of agony, and both sides +became aware that their leaders had fallen. Each party rushed to its +fallen head. Friedel beheld Ebbo under his struggling horse, and an +enemy dashing at his throat, and, flying to the rescue, he rode down the +assailant, striking him with his sword; and, with the instinct of driving +the foe as far as possible from his brother, he struck with a sort of +frenzy, shouting fiercely to his men, and leaping over the dry bed of the +river, rushing onward with an intoxication of ardour that would have +seemed foreign to his gentle nature, but for the impetuous desire to +protect his brother. Their leaders down, the enemy had no one to rally +them, and, in spite of their superiority in number, gave way in confusion +before the furious onset of Adlerstein. So soon, however, as Friedel +perceived that he had forced the enemy far back from the scene of +conflict, his anxiety for his brother returned, and, leaving the +retainers to continue the pursuit, he turned his horse. There, on the +green meadow, lay on the one hand Ebbo’s cream-coloured charger, with his +master under him, on the other the large figure of the count; and several +other prostrate forms likewise struggled on the sand and pebbles of the +strand, or on the turf. + +“Ay,” said the architect, who had turned with Friedel, “’twas a gallant +feat, Sir Friedel, and I trust there is no great harm done. Were it the +mere dint of the count’s sword, your brother will be little the worse.” + +“Ebbo! Ebbo mine, look up!” cried Friedel, leaping from his horse, and +unclasping his brother’s helmet. + +“Friedel!” groaned a half-suffocated voice. “O take away the horse.” + +One or two of the artisans were at hand, and with their help the dying +steed was disengaged from the rider, who could not restrain his moans, +though Friedel held him in his arms, and endeavoured to move him as +gently as possible. It was then seen that the deep gash from the count’s +sword in the chest was not the most serious injury, but that an arquebus +ball had pierced his thigh, before burying itself in the body of his +horse; and that the limb had been further crushed and wrenched by the +animal’s struggles. He was nearly unconscious, and gasped with anguish, +but, after Moritz had bathed his face and moistened his lips, as he lay +in his brother’s arms, he looked up with clearer eyes, and said: “Have I +slain him? It was the shot, not he, that sent me down. Lives he? +See—thou, Friedel—thou. Make him yield.” + +Transferring Ebbo to the arms of Schleiermacher, Friedel obeyed, and +stepped towards the fallen foe. The wrongs of Adlerstein were indeed +avenged, for the blood was welling fast from a deep thrust above the +collar-bone, and the failing, feeble hand was wandering uncertainly among +the clasps of the gorget. + +“Let me aid,” said Friedel, kneeling down, and in his pity for the dying +man omitting the summons to yield, he threw back the helmet, and beheld a +grizzled head and stern hard features, so embrowned by weather and +inflamed by intemperance, that even approaching death failed to blanch +them. A scowl of malignant hate was in the eyes, and there was a thrill +of angry wonder as they fell on the lad’s face. “Thou again,—thou whelp! +I thought at least I had made an end of thee,” he muttered, unheard by +Friedel, who, intent on the thought that had recurred to him with greater +vividness than ever, was again filling Ebbo’s helmet with water. He +refreshed the dying man’s face with it, held it to his lips, and said: +“Herr Graf, variance and strife are ended now. For heaven’s sake, say +where I may find my father!” + +“So! Wouldst find him?” replied Schlangenwald, fixing his look on the +eager countenance of the youth, while his hand, with a dying man’s +nervous agitation, was fumbling at his belt. + +“I would bless you for ever, could I but free him.” + +“Know then,” said the count, speaking very slowly, and still holding the +young knight’s gaze with a sort of intent fascination, by the stony glare +of his light gray eyes, “know that thy villain father is a Turkish slave, +unless he be—as I hope—where his mongrel son may find him.” + +Therewith came a flash, a report; Friedel leaped back, staggered, fell; +Ebbo started to a sitting posture, with horrified eyes, and a loud +shriek, calling on his brother; Moritz sprang to his feet, shouting, +“Shame! treason!” + +“I call you to witness that I had not yielded,” said the count. “There’s +an end of the brood!” and with a grim smile, he straightened his limbs, +and closed his eyes as a dead man, ere the indignant artisans fell on him +in savage vengeance. + +All this had passed like a flash of lightning, and Friedel had almost at +the instant of his fall flung himself towards his brother, and raising +himself on one hand, with the other clasped Ebbo’s, saying, “Fear not; it +is nothing,” and he was bending to take Ebbo’s head again on his knee, +when a gush of dark blood, from his left side, caused Moritz to exclaim, +“Ah! Sir Friedel, the traitor did his work! That is no slight hurt.” + +“Where? How? The ruffian!” cried Ebbo, supporting himself on his elbow, +so as to see his brother, who rather dreamily put his hand to his side, +and, looking at the fresh blood that immediately dyed it, said, “I do not +feel it. This is more numb dulness than pain.” + +“A bad sign that,” said Moritz, apart to one of the workmen, with whom he +held counsel how to carry back to the castle the two young knights, who +remained on the bank, Ebbo partly extended on the ground, partly +supported on the knee and arm of Friedel, who sat with his head drooping +over him, their looks fixed on one another, as if conscious of nothing +else on earth. + +“Herr Freiherr,” said Moritz, presently, “have you breath to wind your +bugle to call the men back from the pursuit?” + +Ebbo essayed, but was too faint, and Friedel, rousing himself from the +stupor, took the horn from him, and made the mountain echoes ring again, +but at the expense of a great effusion of blood. + +By this time, however, Heinz was riding back, and a moment his exultation +changed to rage and despair, when he saw the condition of his young +lords. Master Schleiermacher proposed to lay them on some of the planks +prepared for the building, and carry them up the new road. + +“Methinks,” said Friedel, “that I could ride if I were lifted on +horseback, and thus would our mother be less shocked.” + +“Well thought,” said Ebbo. “Go on and cheer her. Show her thou canst +keep the saddle, however it may be with me,” he added, with a groan of +anguish. + +Friedel made the sign of the cross over him. “The holy cross keep us and +her, Ebbo,” he said, as he bent to assist in laying his brother on the +boards, where a mantle had been spread; then kissed his brow, saying, “We +shall be together again soon.” + +Ebbo was lifted on the shoulders of his bearers, and Friedel strove to +rise, with the aid of Heinz, but sank back, unable to use his limbs; and +Schleiermacher was the more concerned. “It goes so with the backbone,” +he said. “Sir Friedmund, you had best be carried.” + +“Nay, for my mother’s sake! And I would fain be on my good steed’s back +once again!” he entreated. And when with much difficulty he had been +lifted to the back of his cream-colour, who stood as gently and patiently +as if he understood the exigency of the moment, he sat upright, and waved +his hand as he passed the litter, while Ebbo, on his side, signed to him +to speed on and prepare their mother. Long, however, before the castle +was reached, dizzy confusion and leaden helplessness, when no longer +stimulated by his brother’s presence, so grew on him that it was with +much ado that Heinz could keep him in his saddle; but, when he saw his +mother in the castle gateway, he again collected his forces, bade Heinz +withdraw his supporting arm, and, straightening himself, waved a greeting +to her, as he called cheerily; “Victory, dear mother. Ebbo has +overthrown the count, and you must not be grieved if it be at some cost +of blood.” + +“Alas, my son!” was all Christina could say, for his effort at gaiety +formed a ghastly contrast with the gray, livid hue that overspread his +fair young face, his bloody armour, and damp disordered hair, and even +his stiff unearthly smile. + +“Nay, motherling,” he added, as she came so near that he could put his +arm round her neck, “sorrow not, for Ebbo will need thee much. And, +mother,” as his face lighted up, “there is joy coming to you. Only I +would that I could have brought him. Mother, he died not under the +Schlangenwald swords.” + +“Who? Not Ebbo?” cried the bewildered mother. + +“Your own Eberhard, our father,” said Friedel, raising her face to him +with his hand, and adding, as he met a startled look, “The cruel count +owned it with his last breath. He is a Turkish slave, and surely heaven +will give him back to comfort you, even though we may not work his +freedom! O mother, I had so longed for it, but God be thanked that at +least certainty was bought by my life.” The last words were uttered +almost unconsciously, and he had nearly fallen, as the excitement faded; +but, as they were lifting him down, he bent once more and kissed the +glossy neck of his horse. “Ah! poor fellow, thou too wilt be lonely. +May Ebbo yet ride thee!” + +The mother had no time for grief. Alas! She might have full time for +that by and by! The one wish of the twins was to be together, and +presently both were laid on the great bed in the upper chamber, Ebbo in a +swoon from the pain of the transport, and Friedel lying so as to meet the +first look of recovery. And, after Ebbo’s eyes had re-opened, they +watched one another in silence for a short space, till Ebbo said: “Is +that the hue of death on thy face, brother?” + +“I well believe so,” said Friedel. + +“Ever together,” said Ebbo, holding his hand. “But alas! My mother! +Would I had never sent thee to the traitor.” + +“Ah! So comes her comfort,” said Friedel. “Heard you not? He owned +that my father was among the Turks.” + +“And I,” cried Ebbo. “I have withheld thee! O Friedel, had I listened +to thee, thou hadst not been in this fatal broil!” + +“Nay, ever together,” repeated Friedel. “Through Ulm merchants will my +mother be able to ransom him. I know she will, so oft have I dreamt of +his return. Then, mother, you will give him our duteous greetings;” and +he smiled again. + +Like one in a dream Christina returned his smile, because she saw he +wished it, just as the moment before she had been trying to staunch his +wound. + +It was plain that the injuries, except Ebbo’s sword-cut, were far beyond +her skill, and she could only endeavour to check the bleeding till better +aid could be obtained from Ulm. Thither Moritz Schleiermacher had +already sent, and he assured her that he was far from despairing of the +elder baron, but she derived little hope from his words, for gunshot +wounds were then so ill understood as generally to prove fatal. + +Moreover, there was an undefined impression that the two lives must end +in the same hour, even as they had begun. Indeed, Ebbo was suffering so +terribly, and was so much spent with pain and loss of blood, that he +seemed sinking much faster than Friedel, whose wound bled less freely, +and who only seemed benumbed and torpid, except when he roused himself to +speak, or was distressed by the writhings and moans which, however, for +his sake, Ebbo restrained as much as he could. + +To be together seemed an all-sufficient consolation, and, when the +chaplain came sorrowfully to give them the last rites of the Church, Ebbo +implored him to pray that he might not be left behind long in purgatory. + +“Friedel,” he said, clasping his brother’s hand, “is even like the holy +Sebastian or Maurice; but I—I was never such as he. O father, will it be +my penance to be left alone when he is in paradise?” + +“What is that?” said Friedel, partially roused by the sound of his name, +and the involuntary pressure of his hand. “Nay, Ebbo; one repentance, +one cross, one hope,” and he relapsed into a doze, while Ebbo murmured +over a broken, brief confession—exhausting by its vehemence of +self-accusation for his proud spirit, his wilful neglect of his lost +father, his hot contempt of prudent counsel. + +Then, when the priest came round to Friedel’s side, and the boy was +wakened to make his shrift, the words were contrite and humble, but calm +and full of trust. They were like two of their own mountain streams, the +waters almost equally undefiled by external stain—yet one struggling, +agitated, whirling giddily round; the other still, transparent, and the +light of heaven smiling in its clearness. + +The farewell greetings of the Church on earth breathed soft and sweet in +their loftiness, and Friedel, though lying motionless, and with closed +eyes, never failed in the murmured response, whether fully conscious or +not, while his brother only attended by fits and starts, and was +evidently often in too much pain to know what was passing. + +Help was nearer than had been hoped. The summons despatched the night +before had been responded to by the vintners and mercers; their train +bands had set forth, and their captain, a cautious man, never rode into +the way of blows without his surgeon at hand. And so it came to pass +that, before the sun was low on that long and grievous day, Doctor +Johannes Butteman was led into the upper chamber, where the mother looked +up to him with a kind of hopeless gratitude on her face, which was nearly +as white as those of her sons. The doctor soon saw that Friedel was past +human aid; but, when he declared that there was fair hope for the other +youth, Friedel, whose torpor had been dispelled by the examination, +looked up with his beaming smile, saying, “There, motherling.” + +The doctor then declared that he could not deal with the Baron’s wound +unless he were the sole occupant of the bed, and this sentence brought +the first cloud of grief or dread to Friedel’s brow, but only for a +moment. He looked at his brother, who had again fainted at the first +touch of his wounded limb, and said, “It is well. Tell the dear Ebbo +that I cannot help it if after all I go to the praying, and leave him the +fighting. Dear, dear Ebbo! One day together again and for ever! I +leave thee for thine own sake.” With much effort he signed the cross +again on his brother’s brow, and kissed it long and fervently. Then, as +all stood round, reluctant to effect this severance, or disturb one on +whom death was visibly fast approaching, he struggled up on his elbow, +and held out the other hand, saying, “Take me now, Heinz, ere Ebbo revive +to be grieved. The last sacrifice,” he further whispered, whilst almost +giving himself to Heinz and Moritz to be carried to his own bed in the +turret chamber. + +There, even as they laid him down, began what seemed to be the mortal +agony, and, though he was scarcely sensible, his mother felt that her +prime call was to him, while his brother was in other hands. Perhaps it +was well for her. Surgical practice was rough, and wounds made by +fire-arms were thought to have imbibed a poison that made treatment be +supposed efficacious in proportion to the pain inflicted. When Ebbo was +recalled by the torture to see no white reflection of his own face on the +pillow beside him, and to feel in vain for the grasp of the cold damp +hand, a delirious frenzy seized him, and his struggles were frustrating +the doctor’s attempts, when a low soft sweet song stole through the open +door. + +“Friedel!” he murmured, and held his breath to listen. All through the +declining day did the gentle sound continue; now of grand chants or hymns +caught from the cathedral choir, now of songs of chivalry or saintly +legend so often sung over the evening fire; the one flowing into the +other in the wandering of failing powers, but never failing in the tender +sweetness that had distinguished Friedel through life. And, whenever +that voice was heard, let them do to him what they would, Ebbo was still +absorbed in intense listening so as not to lose a note, and lulled almost +out of sense of suffering by that swan-like music. If his attendants +made such noise as to break in on it, or if it ceased for a moment, the +anguish returned, but was charmed away by the weakest, faintest +resumption of the song. Probably Friedel knew not, with any earthly +sense, what he was doing, but to the very last he was serving his twin +brother as none other could have aided him in his need. + +The September sun had set, twilight was coming on, the doctor had worked +his stern will, and Ebbo, quivering in every fibre, lay spent on his +pillow, when his mother glided in, and took her seat near him, though +where she hoped he would not notice her presence. But he raised his +eyelids, and said, “He is not singing now.” + +“Singing indeed, but where we cannot hear him,” she answered. “‘Whiter +than the snow, clearer than the ice-cave, more solemn than the choir. +They will come at last.’ That was what he said, even as he entered +there.” And the low dove-like tone and tender calm face continued upon +Ebbo the spell that the chant had left. He dozed as though still lulled +by its echo. + + + + +CHAPTER XX +THE WOUNDED EAGLE + + +THE star and the spark in the stubble! Often did the presage of her +dream occur to Christina, and assist in sustaining her hopes during the +days that Ebbo’s life hung in the balance, and he himself had hardly +consciousness to realize either his brother’s death or his own state, +save as much as was shown by the words, “Let him not be taken away, +mother; let him wait for me.” + +Friedmund did wait, in his coffin before the altar in the castle chapel, +covered with a pall of blue velvet, and great white cross, mournfully +sent by Hausfrau Johanna; his sword, shield, helmet, and spurs laid on +it, and wax tapers burning at the head and feet. And, when Christina +could leave the one son on his couch of suffering, it was to kneel beside +the other son on his narrow bed of rest, and recall, like a breath of +solace, the heavenly loveliness and peace that rested on his features +when she had taken her last long look at them. + +Moritz Schleiermacher assisted at Sir Friedmund’s first solemn requiem, +and then made a journey to Ulm, whence he returned to find the Baron’s +danger so much abated that he ventured on begging for an interview with +the lady, in which he explained his purpose of repairing at once to the +imperial camp, taking with him a letter from the guilds concerned in the +bridge, and using his personal influence with Maximilian to obtain not +only pardon for the combat, but authoritative sanction to the erection. +Dankwart of Schlangenwald, the Teutonic knight, and only heir of old +Wolfgang, was supposed to be with the Emperor, and it might be possible +to come to terms with him, since his breeding in the Prussian +commanderies had kept him aloof from the feuds of his father and brother. +This mournful fight had to a certain extent equalized the injuries on +either side, since the man whom Friedel had cut down was Hierom, one of +the few remaining scions of Schlangenwald, and there was thus no +dishonour in trying to close the deadly feud, and coming to an amicable +arrangement about the Debateable Strand, the cause of so much bloodshed. +What was now wanted was Freiherr Eberhard’s signature to the letter to +the Emperor, and his authority for making terms with the new count; and +haste was needed, lest the Markgraf of Wurtemburg should represent the +affray in the light of an outrage against a member of the League. + +Christina saw the necessity, and undertook if possible to obtain her +son’s signature, but, at the first mention of Master Moritz and the +bridge, Ebbo turned away his head, groaned, and begged to hear no more of +either. He thought of his bold declaration that the bridge must be +built, even at the cost of blood! Little did he then guess of whose +blood! And in his bitterness of spirit he felt a jealousy of that +influence of Schleiermacher, which had of late come between him and his +brother. He hated the very name, he said, and hid his face with a +shudder. He hoped the torrent would sweep away every fragment of the +bridge. + +“Nay, Ebbo mine, wherefore wish ill to a good work that our blessed one +loved? Listen, and let me tell you my dream for making yonder strand a +peaceful memorial of our peaceful boy.” + +“To honour Friedel?” and he gazed on her with something like interest in +his eyes. + +“Yes, Ebbo, and as he would best brook honour. Let us seek for ever to +end the rival claims to yon piece of meadow by praying this knight of a +religious order, the new count, to unite with us in building there—or as +near as may be safe—a church of holy peace, and a cell for a priest, who +may watch over the bridge ward, and offer the holy sacrifice for the +departed of either house. There will we place our gentle Friedel to be +the first to guard the peace of the ford, and there will we sleep +ourselves when our time shall come, and so may the cruel feud of many +generations be slaked for ever.” + +“In his blood!” sighed Ebbo. “Ah! would that it had been mine, mother. +It is well, as well as anything can be again. So shall the spot where he +fell be made sacred, and fenced from rude feet, and we shall see his fair +effigy keeping his armed watch there.” + +And Christina was thankful to see his look of gratification, sad though +it was. She sat down near his bed, and began to write a letter in their +joint names to Graf Dankwart von Schlangenwald, proposing that thus, +after the even balance of the wrongs of the two houses, their mutual +hostility might be laid to rest for ever by the consecration of the cause +of their long contention. It was a stiff and formal letter, full of the +set pious formularies of the age, scarcely revealing the deep +heart-feeling within; but it was to the purpose, and Ebbo, after hearing +it read, heartily approved, and consented to sign both it and those that +Schleiermacher had brought. Christina held the scroll, and placed the +pen in the fingers that had lately so easily wielded the heavy sword, but +now felt it a far greater effort to guide the slender quill. + +Moritz Schleiermacher went his way in search of the King of the Romans, +far off in Carinthia. A full reply could not be expected till the +campaign was over, and all that was known for some time was through a +messenger sent back to Ulm by Schleiermacher with the intelligence that +Maximilian would examine into the matter after his return, and that Count +Dankwart would reply when he should come to perform his father’s +obsequies after the army was dispersed. There was also a letter of kind +though courtly condolence from Kasimir of Wildschloss, much grieving for +gallant young Sir Friedmund, proffering all the advocacy he could give +the cause of Adlerstein, and covertly proffering the protection that she +and her remaining son might now be more disposed to accept. Christina +suppressed this letter, knowing it would only pain and irritate Ebbo, and +that she had her answer ready. Indeed, in her grief for one son, and her +anxiety for the other, perhaps it was this letter that first made her +fully realize the drift of those earnest words of Friedel’s respecting +his father. + +Meantime the mother and son were alone together, with much of suffering +and of sorrow, yet with a certain tender comfort in the being all in all +to one another, with none to intermeddle with their mutual love and +grief. It was to Christina as if something of Friedel’s sweetness had +passed to his brother in his patient helplessness, and that, while thus +fully engrossed with him, she had both her sons in one. Nay, in spite of +all the pain, grief, and weariness, these were times when both dreaded +any change, and the full recovery, when not only would the loss of +Friedel be every moment freshly brought home to his brother, but when +Ebbo would go in quest of his father. + +For on this the young Baron had fixed his mind as a sacred duty, from the +moment he had seen that life was to be his lot. He looked on his neglect +of indications of the possibility of his father’s life in the light of a +sin that had led to all his disasters, and not only regarded the intended +search as a token of repentance, but as a charge bequeathed to him by his +less selfish brother. He seldom spoke of his intention, but his mother +was perfectly aware of it, and never thought of it without such an agony +of foreboding dread as eclipsed all the hope that lay beyond. She could +only turn away her mind from the thought, and be thankful for what was +still her own from day to day. + +“Art weary, my son?” asked Christina one October afternoon, as Ebbo lay +on his bed, languidly turning the pages of a noble folio of the Legends +of the Saints that Master Gottfried had sent for his amusement. It was +such a book as fixed the ardour a few years later of the wounded +Navarrese knight, Inigo de Loyola, but Ebbo handled it as if each page +were lead. + +“Only thinking how Friedel would have glowed towards these as his own +kinsmen,” said Ebbo. “Then should I have cared to read of them!” and he +gave a long sigh. + +“Let me take away the book,” she said. “Thou hast read long, and it is +dark.” + +“So dark that there must surely be a snow-cloud.” + +“Snow is falling in the large flakes that our Friedel used to call +winter-butterflies.” + +“Butterflies that will swarm and shut us in from the weary world,” said +Ebbo. “And alack! when they go, what a turmoil it will be! Councils in +the Rathhaus, appeals to the League, wranglings with the Markgraf, wise +saws, overweening speeches, all alike dull and dead.” + +“It will scarce be so when strength and spirit have returned, mine Ebbo.” + +“Never can life be more to me than the way to him,” said the lonely boy; +“and I—never like him—shall miss the road without him.” + +While he thus spoke in the listless dejection of sorrow and weakness, +Hatto’s aged step was on the stair. “Gracious lady,” he said, “here is a +huntsman bewildered in the hills, who has been asking shelter from the +storm that is drifting up.” + +“See to his entertainment, then, Hatto,” said the lady. + +“My lady—Sir Baron,” added Hatto, “I had not come up but that this guest +seems scarce gear for us below. He is none of the foresters of our +tract. His hair is perfumed, his shirt is fine holland, his buff suit is +of softest skin, his baldric has a jewelled clasp, and his arblast! It +would do my lord baron’s heart good only to cast eyes on the perfect make +of that arblast! He has a lordly tread, and a stately presence, and, +though he has a free tongue, and made friends with us as he dried his +garments, he asked after my lord like his equal.” + +“O mother, must you play the chatelaine?” asked Ebbo. “Who can the +fellow be? Why did none ever so come when they would have been more +welcome?” + +“Welcomed must he be,” said Christina, rising, “and thy state shall be my +excuse for not tarrying longer with him than may be needful.” + +Yet, though shrinking from a stranger’s face, she was not without hope +that the variety might wholesomely rouse her son from his depression, and +in effect Ebbo, when left with Hatto, minutely questioned him on the +appearance of the stranger, and watched, with much curiosity, for his +mother’s return. + +“Ebbo mine,” she said, entering, after a long interval, “the knight asks +to see thee either after supper, or to-morrow morn.” + +“Then a knight he is?” + +“Yea, truly, a knight truly in every look and gesture, bearing his head +like the leading stag of the herd, and yet right gracious.” + +“Gracious to you, mother, in your own hall?” cried Ebbo, almost fiercely. + +“Ah! jealous champion, thou couldst not take offence! It was the manner +of one free and courteous to every one, and yet with an inherent +loftiness that pervades all.” + +“Gives he no name?” said Ebbo. + +“He calls himself Ritter Theurdank, of the suite of the late Kaisar, but +I should deem him wont rather to lead than to follow.” + +“Theurdank,” repeated Eberhard, “I know no such name! So, motherling, +are you going to sup? I shall not sleep till I have seen him!” + +“Hold, dear son.” She leant over him and spoke low. “See him thou must, +but let me first station Heinz and Koppel at the door with halberts, not +within earshot, but thou art so entirely defenceless.” + +She had the pleasure of seeing him laugh. “Less defenceless than when +the kinsman of Wildschloss here visited us, mother? I see for whom thou +takest him, but let it be so; a spiritual knight would scarce wreak his +vengeance on a wounded man in his bed. I will not have him insulted with +precautions. If he has freely risked himself in my hands, I will as +freely risk myself in his. Moreover, I thought he had won thy heart.” + +“Reigned over it, rather,” said Christina. “It is but the disguise that +I suspect and mistrust. Bid me not leave thee alone with him, my son.” + +“Nay, dear mother,” said Ebbo, “the matters on which he is like to speak +will brook no presence save our own, and even that will be hard enough to +bear. So prop me more upright! So! And comb out these locks somewhat +smoother. Thanks, mother. Now can he see whether he will choose +Eberhard of Adlerstein for friend or foe.” + +By the time supper was ended, the only light in the upper room came from +the flickering flames of the fire of pine knots on the hearth. It +glanced on the pale features and dark sad eyes of the young Baron, sad in +spite of the eager look of scrutiny that he turned on the figure that +entered at the door, and approached so quickly that the partial light +only served to show the gloss of long fair hair, the glint of a jewelled +belt, and the outline of a tall, well-knit, agile frame. + +“Welcome, Herr Ritter,” he said; “I am sorry we have been unable to give +you a fitter reception.” + +“No host could be more fully excused than you,” said the stranger, and +Ebbo started at his voice. “I fear you have suffered much, and still +have much to suffer.” + +“My sword wound is healing fast,” said Ebbo; “it is the shot in my broken +thigh that is so tedious and painful.” + +“And I dare be sworn the leeches made it worse. I have hated all leeches +ever since they kept me three days a prisoner in a ’pothecary’s shop +stinking with drugs. Why, I have cured myself with one pitcher of water +of a raging fever, in their very despite! How did they serve thee, my +poor boy?” + +“They poured hot oil into the wound to remove the venom of the lead,” +said Ebbo. + +“Had it been my case the lead should have been in their own brains first, +though that were scarce needed, the heavy-witted Hans Sausages. Why +should there be more poison in lead than in steel? I have asked all my +surgeons that question, nor ever had a reasonable answer. Greater havoc +of warriors do they make than ever with the arquebus—ay, even when every +lanzknecht bears one.” + +“Alack!” Ebbo could not help exclaiming, “where will be room for +chivalry?” + +“Talk not old world nonsense,” said Theurdank; “chivalry is in the heart, +not in the weapon. A youth beforehand enough with the world to be +building bridges should know that, when all our troops are provided with +such an arm, then will their platoons in serried ranks be as a solid wall +breathing fire, and as impregnable as the lines of English archers with +long bows, or the phalanx of Macedon. And, when each man bears a pistol +instead of the misericorde, his life will be far more his own.” + +Ebbo’s face was in full light, and his visitor marked his contracted brow +and trembling lip. “Ah!” he said, “thou hast had foul experience of +these weapons.” + +“Not mine own hurt,” said Ebbo; “that was but fair chance of war.” + +“I understand,” said the knight; “it was the shot that severed the goodly +bond that was so fair to see. Young man, none has grieved more truly +than King Max.” + +“And well he may,” said Ebbo. “He has not lost merely one of his best +servants, but all the better half of another.” + +“There is still stuff enough left to make that _one_ well worth having,” +said Theurdank, kindly grasping his hand, “though I would it were more +substantial! How didst get old Wolfgang down, boy? He must have been a +tough morsel for slight bones like these, even when better covered than +now. Come, tell me all. I promised the Markgraf of Wurtemburg to look +into the matter when I came to be guest at St. Ruprecht’s cloister, and I +have some small interest too with King Max.” + +His kindliness and sympathy were more effectual with Ebbo than the desire +to represent his case favourably, for he was still too wretched to care +for policy; but he answered Theurdank’s questions readily, and explained +how the idea of the bridge had originated in the vigil beside the broken +waggons. + +“I hope,” said Theurdank, “the merchants made up thy share? These +overthrown goods are a seignorial right of one or other of you lords of +the bank.” + +“True, Herr Ritter; but we deemed it unknightly to snatch at what +travellers lost by misfortune.” + +“Freiherr Eberhard, take my word for it, while thou thus holdest, all the +arquebuses yet to be cut out of the Black Forest will not mar thy +chivalry. Where didst get these ways of thinking?” + +“My brother was a very St. Sebastian! My mother—” + +“Ah! her sweet wise face would have shown it, even had not poor Kasimir +of Adlerstein raved of her. Ah! lad, thou hast crossed a case of true +love there! Canst not brook even such a gallant stepfather?” + +“I may not,” said Ebbo, with spirit; “for with his last breath +Schlangenwald owned that my own father died not at the hostel, but may +now be alive as a Turkish slave.” + +“The devil!” burst out Theurdank. “Well! that might have been a pretty +mess! A Turkish slave, saidst thou! What year chanced all this +matter—thy grandfather’s murder and all the rest?” + +“The year before my birth,” said Ebbo. “It was in the September of +1475.” + +“Ha!” muttered Theurdank, musing to himself; “that was the year the +dotard Schenk got his overthrow at the fight of Rain on Sare from the +Moslem. Some composition was made by them, and old Wolfgang was not +unlikely to have been the go-between. So! Say on, young knight,” he +added, “let us to the matter in hand. How rose the strife that kept back +two troops from our—from the banner of the empire?” + +Ebbo proceeded with the narration, and concluded it just as the bell now +belonging to the chapel began to toll for compline, and Theurdank +prepared to obey its summons, first, however, asking if he should send +any one to the patient. Ebbo thanked him, but said he needed no one till +his mother should come after prayers. + +“Nay, I told thee I had some leechcraft. Thou art weary, and must rest +more entirely;”—and, giving him little choice, Theurdank supported him +with one arm while removing the pillows that propped him, then laid him +tenderly down, saying, “Good night, and the saints bless thee, brave +young knight. Sleep well, and recover in spite of the leeches. I cannot +afford to lose both of you.” + +Ebbo strove to follow mentally the services that were being performed in +the chapel, and whose “Amens” and louder notes pealed up to him, devoid +of the clear young tones that had sung their last here below, but swelled +by grand bass notes that as much distracted Ebbo’s attention as the +memory of his guest’s conversation; and he impatiently awaited his +mother’s arrival. + +At length, lamp in hand, she appeared with tears shining in her eyes, and +bending over him said, + +“He hath done honour to our blessed one, my Ebbo; he knelt by him, and +crossed him with holy water, and when he led me from the chapel he told +me any mother in Germany might envy me my two sons even now. Thou must +love him now, Ebbo.” + +“Love him as one loves one’s loftiest model,” said Ebbo—“value the old +castle the more for sheltering him.” + +“Hath he made himself known to thee?” + +“Not openly, but there is only one that he can be.” + +Christina smiled, thankful that the work of pardon and reconciliation had +been thus softened by the personal qualities of the enemy, whose conduct +in the chapel had deeply moved her. + +“Then all will be well, blessedly well,” she said. + +“So I trust,” said Ebbo, “but the bell broke our converse, and he laid me +down as tenderly as—O mother, if a father’s kindness be like his, I have +truly somewhat to regain.” + +“Knew he aught of the fell bargain?” whispered Christina. + +“Not he, of course, save that it was a year of Turkish inroads. He will +speak more perchance to-morrow. Mother, not a word to any one, nor let +us betray our recognition unless it be his pleasure to make himself +known.” + +“Certainly not,” said Christina, remembering the danger that the +household might revenge Friedel’s death if they knew the foe to be in +their power. Knowing as she did that Ebbo’s admiration was apt to be +enthusiastic, and might now be rendered the more fervent by fever and +solitude, she was still at a loss to understand his dazzled, fascinated +state. + +When Heinz entered, bringing the castle key, which was always laid under +the Baron’s pillow, Ebbo made a movement with his hand that surprised +them both, as if to send it elsewhere—then muttered, “No, no, not till he +reveals himself,” and asked, “Where sleeps the guest?” + +“In the grandmother’s room, which we fitted for a guest-chamber, little +thinking who our first would be,” said his mother. + +“Never fear, lady; we will have a care to him,” said Heinz, somewhat +grimly. + +“Yes, have a care,” said Ebbo, wearily; “and take care all due honour is +shown to him! Good night, Heinz.” + +“Gracious lady,” said Heinz, when by a sign he had intimated to her his +desire of speaking with her unobserved by the Baron, “never fear; I know +who the fellow is as well as you do. I shall be at the foot of the +stairs, and woe to whoever tries to step up them past me.” + +“There is no reason to apprehend treason, Heinz, yet to be on our guard +can do no harm.” + +“Nay, lady, I could look to the gear for the oubliette if you would speak +the word.” + +“For heaven’s sake, no, Heinz. This man has come hither trusting to our +honour, and you could not do your lord a greater wrong, nor one that he +could less pardon, than by any attempt on our guest.” + +“Would that he had never eaten our bread!” muttered Heinz. “Vipers be +they all, and who knows what may come next?” + +“Watch, watch, Heinz; that is all,” implored Christina, “and, above all, +not a word to any one else.” + +And Christina dismissed the man-at-arms gruff and sullen, and herself +retired ill at ease between fears of, and for, the unwelcome guest whose +strange powers of fascination had rendered her, in his absence, doubly +distrustful. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI +RITTER THEURDANK + + +THE snow fell all night without ceasing, and was still falling on the +morrow, when the guest explained his desire of paying a short visit to +the young Baron, and then taking his departure. Christina would gladly +have been quit of him, but she felt bound to remonstrate, for their +mountain was absolutely impassable during a fall of snow, above all when +accompanied by wind, since the drifts concealed fearful abysses, and the +shifting masses insured destruction to the unwary wayfarer; nay, natives +themselves had perished between the hamlet and the castle. + +“Not the hardiest cragsman, not my son himself,” she said, “could venture +on such a morning to guide you to—” + +“Whither, gracious dame?” asked Theurdank, half smiling. + +“Nay, sir, I would not utter what you would not make known.” + +“You know me then?” + +“Surely, sir, for our noble foe, whose generous trust in our honour must +win my son’s heart.” + +“So!” he said, with a peculiar smile, “Theurdank—Dankwart—I see! May I +ask if your son likewise smelt out the Schlangenwald?” + +“Verily, Sir Count, my Ebbo is not easily deceived. He said our guest +could be but one man in all the empire.” + +Theurdank smiled again, saying, “Then, lady, you shudder not at a man +whose kin and yours have shed so much of one another’s blood?” + +“Nay, ghostly knight, I regard you as no more stained therewith than are +my sons by the deeds of their grandfather.” + +“If there were more like you, lady,” returned Theurdank, “deadly feuds +would soon be starved out. May I to your son? I have more to say to +him, and I would fain hear his views of the storm.” + +Christina could not be quite at ease with Theurdank in her son’s room, +but she had no choice, and she knew that Heinz was watching on the turret +stair, out of hearing indeed, but as ready to spring as a cat who sees +her young ones in the hand of a child that she only half trusts. + +Ebbo lay eagerly watching for his visitor, who greeted him with the same +almost paternal kindness he had evinced the night before, but consulted +him upon the way from the castle. Ebbo confirmed his mother’s opinion +that the path was impracticable so long as the snow fell, and the wind +tossed it in wild drifts. + +“We have been caught in snow,” he said, “and hard work have we had to get +home! Once indeed, after a bear hunt, we fully thought the castle stood +before us, and lo! it was all a cruel snow mist in that mocking shape. I +was even about to climb our last Eagle’s Step, as I thought, when behold, +it proved to be the very brink of the abyss.” + +“Ah! these ravines are well-nigh as bad as those of the Inn. I’ve known +what it was to be caught on the ledge of a precipice by a sharp wind, +changing its course, mark’st thou, so swiftly that it verily tore my hold +from the rock, and had well-nigh swept me into a chasm of mighty depth. +There was nothing for it but to make the best spring I might towards the +crag on the other side, and grip for my life at my alpenstock, which by +Our Lady’s grace was firmly planted, and I held on till I got breath +again, and felt for my footing on the ice-glazed rock.” + +“Ah!” said Eberhard with a long breath, after having listened with a +hunter’s keen interest to this hair’s-breadth escape, “it sounds like a +gust of my mountain air thus let in on me.” + +“Truly it is dismal work for a lusty hunter to lie here,” said Theurdank, +“but soon shalt thou take thy crags again in full vigour, I hope. How +call’st thou the deep gray lonely pool under a steep frowning crag +sharpened well-nigh to a spear point, that I passed yester afternoon?” + +“The Ptarmigan’s Mere, the Red Eyrie,” murmured Ebbo, scarcely able to +utter the words as he thought of Friedel’s delight in the pool, his +exploit at the eyrie, and the gay bargain made in the streets of Ulm, +that he should show the scaler of the Dom steeple the way to the eagle’s +nest. + +“I remember,” said his guest gravely, coming to his side. “Ah, boy! thy +brother’s flight has been higher yet. Weep freely; fear me not. Do I +not know what it is, when those who were over-good for earth have found +their eagle’s wings, and left us here?” + +Ebbo gazed up through his tears into the noble, mournful face that was +bent kindly over him. “I will not seek to comfort thee by counselling +thee to forget,” said Theurdank. “I was scarce thine elder when my life +was thus rent asunder, and to hoar hairs, nay, to the grave itself, will +she be my glory and my sorrow. Never owned I brother, but I trow ye two +were one in no common sort.” + +“Such brothers as we saw at Ulm were little like us,” returned Ebbo, from +the bottom of his heart. “We were knit together so that all will begin +with me as if it were the left hand remaining alone to do it! I am glad +that my old life may not even in shadow be renewed till after I have gone +in quest of my father.” + +“Be not over hasty in that quest,” said the guest, “or the infidels may +chance to gain two Freiherren instead of one. Hast any designs?” + +Ebbo explained that he thought of making his way to Genoa to consult the +merchant Gian Battista dei Battiste, whose description of the captive +German noble had so strongly impressed Friedel. Ebbo knew the difference +between Turks and Moors, but Friedel’s impulse guided him, and he further +thought that at Genoa he should learn the way to deal with either variety +of infidel. Theurdank thought this a prudent course, since the Genoese +had dealings both at Tripoli and Constantinople; and, moreover, the +transfer was not impossible, since the two different hordes of Moslems +trafficked among themselves when either had made an unusually successful +razzia. + +“Shame,” he broke out, “that these Eastern locusts, these ravening +hounds, should prey unmolested on the fairest lands of the earth, and our +German nobles lie here like swine, grunting and squealing over the +plunder they grub up from one another, deaf to any summons from heaven or +earth! Did not Heaven’s own voice speak in thunder this last year, even +in November, hurling the mighty thunderbolt of Alsace, an ell long, +weighing two hundred and fifteen pounds? Did I not cause it to be hung +up in the church of Encisheim, as a witness and warning of the plagues +that hang over us? But no, nothing will quicken them from their sloth +and drunkenness till the foe are at their doors; and, if a man arise of +different mould, with some heart for the knightly, the good, and the +true, then they kill him for me! But thou, Adlerstein, this pious quest +over, thou wilt return to me. Thou hast head to think and heart to feel +for the shame and woe of this misguided land.” + +“I trust so, my lord,” said Ebbo. “Truly, I have suffered bitterly for +pursuing my own quarrel rather than the crusade.” + +“I meant not thee,” said Theurdank, kindly. “Thy bridge is a benefit to +me, as much as, or more than, ever it can be to thee. Dost know Italian? +There is something of Italy in thine eye.” + +“My mother’s mother was Italian, my lord; but she died so early that her +language has not descended to my mother or myself.” + +“Thou shouldst learn it. It will be pastime while thou art bed-fast, and +serve thee well in dealing with the Moslem. Moreover, I may have work +for thee in Welschland. Books? I will send thee books. There is the +whole chronicle of Karl the Great, and all his Palsgrafen, by Pulci and +Boiardo, a brave Count and gentleman himself, governor of Reggio, and +worthy to sing of deeds of arms; so choice, too, as to the names of his +heroes, that they say he caused his church bells to be rung when he had +found one for Rodomonte, his infidel Hector. He has shown up Roland as a +love-sick knight, though, which is out of all accord with Archbishop +Turpin. Wilt have him?” + +“When we were together, we used to love tales of chivalry.” + +“Ah! Or wilt have the stern old Ghibelline Florentine, who explored the +three realms of the departed? Deep lore, and well-nigh unsearchable, is +his; but I love him for the sake of his Beatrice, who guided him. May we +find such guides in our day!” + +“I have heard of him,” said Ebbo. “If he will tell me where my Friedel +walks in light, then, my lord, I would read him with all my heart.” + +“Or wouldst thou have rare Franciscus Petrarca? I wot thou art too young +as yet for the yearnings of his sonnets, but their voice is sweet to the +bereft heart.” + +And he murmured over, in their melodious Italian flow, the lines on +Laura’s death:— + + “Not pallid, but yet whiter than the snow + By wind unstirred that on a hillside lies; + Rest seemed as on a weary frame to grow, + A gentle slumber pressed her lovely eyes.” + +“Ah!” he added aloud to himself, “it is ever to me as though the poet had +watched in that chamber at Ghent.” + +Such were the discourses of that morning, now on poetry and book lore; +now admiration of the carvings that decked the room; now talk on grand +architectural designs, or improvements in fire-arms, or the discussion of +hunting adventures. There seemed nothing in art, life, or learning in +which the versatile mind of Theurdank was not at home, or that did not +end in some strange personal reminiscence of his own. All was so kind, +so gracious, and brilliant, that at first the interview was full of +wondering delight to Ebbo, but latterly it became very fatiguing from the +strain of attention, above all towards a guest who evidently knew that he +was known, while not permitting such recognition to be avowed. Ebbo +began to long for an interruption, but, though he could see by the +lightened sky that the weather had cleared up, it would have been +impossible to have suggested to any guest that the way might now probably +be open, and more especially to such a guest as this. Considerate as his +visitor had been the night before, the pleasure of talk seemed to have +done away with the remembrance of his host’s weakness, till Ebbo so +flagged that at last he was scarcely alive to more than the continued +sound of the voice, and all the pain that for a while had been in +abeyance seemed to have mastered him; but his guest, half reading his +books, half discoursing, seemed too much immersed in his own plans, +theories, and adventures, to mark the condition of his auditor. + +Interruption came at last, however. There was a sudden knock at the door +at noon, and with scant ceremony Heinz entered, followed by three other +of the men-at-arms, fully equipped. + +“Ha! what means this?” demanded Ebbo. + +“Peace, Sir Baron,” said Heinz, advancing so as to place his large person +between Ebbo’s bed and the strange hunter. “You know nothing of it. We +are not going to lose you as well as your brother, and we mean to see how +this knight likes to serve as a hostage instead of opening the gates as a +traitor spy. On him, Koppel! it is thy right.” + +“Hands off! at your peril, villains!” exclaimed Ebbo, sitting up, and +speaking in the steady resolute voice that had so early rendered him +thoroughly their master, but much perplexed and dismayed, and entirely +unassisted by Theurdank, who stood looking on with almost a smile, as if +diverted by his predicament. + +“By your leave, Herr Freiherr,” said Heinz, putting his hand on his +shoulder, “this is no concern of yours. While you cannot guard yourself +or my lady, it is our part to do so. I tell you his minions are on their +way to surprise the castle.” + +Even as Heinz spoke, Christina came panting into the room, and, hurrying +to her son’s side, said, “Sir Count, is this just, is this honourable, +thus to return my son’s welcome, in his helpless condition?” + +“Mother, are you likewise distracted?” exclaimed Ebbo. “What is all this +madness?” + +“Alas, my son, it is no frenzy! There are armed men coming up the +Eagle’s Stairs on the one hand and by the Gemsbock’s Pass on the other!” + +“But not a hair of your head shall they hurt, lady,” said Heinz. “This +fellow’s limbs shall be thrown to them over the battlements. On, +Koppel!” + +“Off, Koppel!” thundered Ebbo. “Would you brand me with shame for ever? +Were he all the Schlangenwalds in one, he should go as freely as he came; +but he is no more Schlangenwald than I am.” + +“He has deceived you, my lord,” said Heinz. “My lady’s own letter to +Schlangenwald was in his chamber. ’Tis a treacherous disguise.” + +“Fool that thou art!” said Ebbo. “I know this gentleman well. I knew +him at Ulm. Those who meet him here mean me no ill. Open the gates and +receive them honourably! Mother, mother, trust me, all is well. I know +what I am saying.” + +The men looked one upon another. Christina wrung her hands, uncertain +whether her son were not under some strange fatal deception. + +“My lord has his fancies,” growled Koppel. “I’ll not be balked of my +right of vengeance for his scruples! Will he swear that this fellow is +what he calls himself?” + +“I swear,” said Ebbo, slowly, “that he is a true loyal knight, well known +to me.” + +“Swear it distinctly, Sir Baron,” said Heinz. “We have all too deep a +debt of vengeance to let off any one who comes here lurking in the +interest of our foe. Swear that this is Theurdank, or we send his head +to greet his friends.” + +Drops stood on Ebbo’s brow, and his breath laboured as he felt his senses +reeling, and his powers of defence for his guest failing him. Even +should the stranger confess his name, the people of the castle might not +believe him; and here he stood like one indifferent, evidently measuring +how far his young host would go in his cause. + +“I cannot swear that his real name is Theurdank,” said Ebbo, rallying his +forces, “but this I swear, that he is neither friend nor fosterer of +Schlangenwald, that I know him, and I had rather die than that the +slightest indignity were offered him.” Here, and with a great effort +that terribly wrenched his wounded leg, he reached past Heinz, and +grasped his guest’s hand, pulling him as near as he could. + +“Sir,” he said, “if they try to lay hands on you, strike my death-blow!” + +A bugle-horn was wound outside. The men stood daunted—Christina in +extreme terror for her son, who lay gasping, breathless, but still +clutching the stranger’s hand, and with eyes of fire glaring on the +mutinous warriors. Another bugle-blast! Heinz was almost in the act of +grappling with the silent foe, and Koppel cried as he raised his halbert, +“Now or never!” but paused. + +“Never, so please you,” said the strange guest. “What if your young lord +could not forswear himself that my name is Theurdank! Are you foes to +all the world save Theurdank?” + +“No masking,” said Heinz, sternly. “Tell your true name as an honest +man, and we will judge whether you be friend or foe.” + +“My name is a mouthful, as your master knows,” said the guest, slowly, +looking with strangely amused eyes on the confused lanzknechts, who were +trying to devour their rage. “I was baptized Maximilianus; Archduke of +Austria, by birth; by choice of the Germans, King of the Romans.” + +“The Kaisar!” + +Christina dropped on her knee; the men-at-arms tumbled backwards; Ebbo +pressed the hand he held to his lips, and fainted away. The bugle +sounded for the third time. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII +PEACE + + +SLOWLY and painfully did Ebbo recover from his swoon, feeling as if the +means of revival were rending him away from his brother. He was so +completely spent that he was satisfied with a mere assurance that nothing +was amiss, and presently dropped into a profound slumber, whence he awoke +to find it still broad daylight, and his mother sitting by the side of +his bed, all looking so much as it had done for the last six weeks, that +his first inquiry was if all that had happened had been but a strange +dream. His mother would scarcely answer till she had satisfied herself +that his eye was clear, his voice steady, his hand cool, and that, as she +said, “That Kaisar had done him no harm.” + +“Ah, then it was true! Where is he? Gone?” cried Ebbo, eagerly. + +“No, in the hall below, busy with letters they have brought him. Lie +still, my boy; he has done thee quite enough damage for one day.” + +“But, mother, what are you saying! Something disloyal, was it not?” + +“Well, Ebbo, I was very angry that he should have half killed you when he +could so easily have spoken one word. Heaven forgive me if I did wrong, +but I could not help it.” + +“Did _he_ forgive you, mother?” said Ebbo, anxiously. + +“He—oh yes. To do him justice he was greatly concerned; devised ways of +restoring thee, and now has promised not to come near thee again without +my leave,” said the mother, quite as persuaded of her own rightful sway +in her son’s sick chamber as ever Kunigunde had been of her dominion over +the castle. + +“And is he displeased with me? Those cowardly vindictive rascals, to +fall on him, and set me at nought! Before him, too!” exclaimed Ebbo, +bitterly. + +“Nay, Ebbo, he thought thy part most gallant. I heard him say so, not +only to me, but below stairs—both wise and true. Thou didst know him +then?” + +“From the first glance of his princely eye—the first of his keen smiles. +I had seen him disguised before. I thought you knew him too, mother; I +never guessed that your mind was running on Schlangenwald when we talked +at cross purposes last night.” + +“Would that I had; but though I breathed no word openly, I encouraged +Heinz’s precautions. My boy, I could not help it; my heart would tremble +for my only one, and I saw he could not be what he seemed.” + +“And what doth he here? Who were the men who were advancing?” + +“They were the followers he had left at St. Ruprecht’s, and likewise +Master Schleiermacher and Sir Kasimir of Wildschloss.” + +“Ha!” + +“What—he had not told thee?” + +“No. He knew that I knew him, was at no pains to disguise himself, yet +evidently meant me to treat him as a private knight. But what brought +Wildschloss here?” + +“It seems,” said Christina, “that, on the return from Carinthia, the +Kaisar expressed his intention of slipping away from his army in his own +strange fashion, and himself inquiring into the matter of the Ford. So +he took with him his own personal followers, the new Graf von +Schlangenwald, Herr Kasimir, and Master Schleiermacher. The others he +sent to Schlangenwald; he himself lodged at St. Ruprecht’s, appointing +that Sir Kasimir should meet him there this morning. From the convent he +started on a chamois hunt, and made his way hither; but, when the snow +came on, and he returned not, his followers became uneasy, and came in +search of him.” + +“Ah!” said Ebbo, “he meant to intercede for Wildschloss—it might be he +would have tried his power. No, for that he is too generous. How looked +Wildschloss, mother?” + +“How could I tell how any one looked save thee, my poor wan boy? Thou +art paler than ever! I cannot have any king or kaisar of them all come +to trouble thee.” + +“Nay, motherling, there is much more trouble and unrest to me in not +knowing how my king will treat us after such a requital! Prithee let him +know that I am at his service.” + +And, after having fed and refreshed her patient, the gentle potentate of +his chamber consented to intimate her consent to admit the invader. But +not till after delay enough to fret the impatient nerves of illness did +Maximilian appear, handing her in, and saying, in the cheery voice that +was one of his chief fascinations, + +“Yea, truly, fair dame, I know thou wouldst sooner trust Schlangenwald +himself than me alone with thy charge. How goes it, my true knight?” + +“Well, right well, my liege,” said Ebbo, “save for my shame and grief.” + +“Thou art the last to be ashamed for that,” said the good-natured prince. +“Have I never seen my faithful vassals more bent on their own feuds than +on my word?—I who reign over a set of kings, who brook no will but their +own.” + +“And may we ask your pardon,” said Ebbo, “not only for ourselves, but for +the misguided men-at-arms?” + +“What! the grewsome giant that was prepared with the axe, and the honest +lad that wanted to do his duty by his father? I honour that lad, +Freiherr; I would enrol him in my guard, but that probably he is better +off here than with _Massimiliano pochi danari_, as the Italians call me. +But what I came hither to say was this,” and he spoke gravely: “thou art +sincere in desiring reconciliation with the house of Schlangenwald?” + +“With all my heart,” said Ebbo, “do I loathe the miserable debt of blood +for blood!” + +“And,” said Maximilian, “Graf Dankwart is of like mind. Bred from +pagedom in his Prussian commandery, he has never been exposed to the +irritations that have fed the spirit of strife, and he will be thankful +to lay it aside. The question next is how to solemnize this +reconciliation, ere your retainers on one side or the other do something +to set you by the ears together again, which, judging by this morning’s +work, is not improbable.” + +“Alas! no,” said Ebbo, “while I am laid by.” + +“Had you both been in our camp, you should have sworn friendship in my +chapel. Now must Dankwart come hither to thee, as I trow he had best do, +while I am here to keep the peace. See, friend Ebbo, we will have him +here to-morrow; thy chaplain shall deck the altar here, the Father Abbot +shall say mass, and ye shall swear peace and brotherhood before me. +And,” he added, taking Ebbo’s hand, “I shall know how to trust thine +oaths as of one who sets the fear of God above that of his king.” + +This was truly the only chance of impressing on the wild vassals of the +two houses an obligation that perhaps might override their ancient +hatred; and the Baron and his mother gladly submitted to the arrangement. +Maximilian withdrew to give directions for summoning the persons required +and Christina was soon obliged to leave her son, while she provided for +her influx of guests. + +Ebbo was alone till nearly the end of the supper below stairs. He had +been dozing, when a cautious tread came up the turret steps, and he +started, and called out, “Who goes there? I am not asleep.” + +“It is your kinsman, Freiherr,” said a well-known voice; “I come by your +mother’s leave.” + +“Welcome, Sir Cousin,” said Ebbo, holding out his hand. “You come to +find everything changed.” + +“I have knelt in the chapel,” said Wildschloss, gravely. + +“And he loved you better than I!” said Ebbo. + +“Your jealousy of me was a providential thing, for which all may be +thankful,” said Wildschloss gravely; “yet it is no small thing to lose +the hope of so many years! However, young Baron, I have grave matter for +your consideration. Know you the service on which I am to be sent? The +Kaisar deems that the Armenians or some of the Christian nations on the +skirts of the Ottoman empire might be made our allies, and attack the +Turk in his rear. I am chosen as his envoy, and shall sail so soon as I +can make my way to Venice. I only knew of the appointment since I came +hither, he having been led thereto by letters brought him this day; and +mayhap by the downfall of my hopes. He was peremptory, as his mood is, +and seemed to think it no small favour,” added Wildschloss, with some +annoyance. “And meantime, what of my poor child? There she is in the +cloister at Ulm, but an inheritance is a very mill-stone round the neck +of an orphan maid. That insolent fellow, Lassla von Trautbach, hath +already demanded to espouse the poor babe; he—a blood-stained, dicing, +drunken rover, with whom I would not trust a dog that I loved! Yet my +death would place her at the disposal of his father, who would give her +at once to him. Nay, even his aunt, the abbess, will believe nothing +against him, and hath even striven with me to have her betrothed at once. +On the barest rumour of my death will they wed the poor little thing, and +then woe to her, and woe to my vassals!” + +“The King,” suggested Ebbo. “Surely she might be made his ward.” + +“Young man,” said Sir Kasimir, bending over him, and speaking in an +undertone, “he may well have won your heart. As friend, when one is at +his side, none can be so winning, or so sincere as he; but with all his +brilliant gifts, he says truly of himself that he is a mere reckless +huntsman. To-day, while I am with him, he would give me half Austria, or +fight single-handed in my cause or Thekla’s. Next month, when I am out +of sight, comes Trautbach, just when his head is full of keeping the +French out of Italy, or reforming the Church, or beating the Turk, or +parcelling the empire into circles, or, maybe, of a new touch-hole for a +cannon—nay, of a flower-garden, or of walking into a lion’s den. He just +says, ‘Yea, well,’ to be rid of the importunity, and all is over with my +poor little maiden. Hare-brained and bewildered with schemes has he been +as Romish King—how will it be with him as Kaisar? It is but of his +wonted madness that he is here at all, when his Austrian states must be +all astray for want of him. No, no; I would rather make a weathercock +guardian to my daughter. You yourself are the only guard to whom I can +safely intrust her.” + +“My sword as knight and kinsman—” began Ebbo. + +“No, no; ’tis no matter of errant knight or distressed damsel. That is +King Max’s own line!” said Wildschloss, with a little of the irony that +used to nettle Ebbo. “There is only one way in which you can save her, +and that is as her husband.” + +Ebbo started, as well he might, but Sir Kasimir laid his hand on him with +a gesture that bade him listen ere he spoke. “My first wish for my +child,” he said, “was to see her brought up by that peerless lady below +stairs. The saints—in pity to one so like themselves—spared her the +distress our union would have brought her. Now, it would be vain to +place my little Thekla in her care, for Trautbach would easily feign my +death, and claim his niece, nor are you of age to be made her guardian as +head of our house. But, if this marriage rite were solemnized, then +would her person and lands alike be yours, and I could leave her with an +easy heart.” + +“But,” said the confused, surprised Ebbo, “what can I do? They say I +shall not walk for many weeks to come. And, even if I could, I am so +young—I have so blundered in my dealings with my own mountaineers, and +with this fatal bridge—how should I manage such estates as yours? Some +better—” + +“Look you, Ebbo,” said Wildschloss; “you have erred—you have been hasty; +but tell me where to find another youth, whose strongest purpose was as +wise as your errors, or who cared for others’ good more than for his own +violence and vainglory? Brief as your time has been, one knows when one +is on your bounds by the aspect of your serfs, the soundness of their +dwellings, the prosperity of their crops and cattle above all, by their +face and tone if one asks for their lord.” + +“Ah! it was Friedel they loved. They scarce knew me from Friedel.” + +“Such as you are, with all the blunders you have made and will make, you +are the only youth I know to whom I could intrust my child or my lands. +The old Wildschloss castle is a male fief, and would return to you, but +there are domains since granted that will cause intolerable trouble and +strife, unless you and my poor little heiress are united. As for age, +you are—?” + +“Eighteen next Easter.” + +“Then there are scarce eleven years between you. You will find the +little one a blooming bride when your first deeds in arms have been +fought out.” + +“And, if my mother trains her up,” said Ebbo, thoughtfully, “she will be +all the better daughter to her. But, Sir Cousin, you know I too must be +going. So soon as I can brook the saddle, I must seek out and ransom my +father.” + +“That is like to be a far shorter and safer journey than mine. The +Genoese and Venetians understand traffic with the infidels for their +captives, and only by your own fault could you get into danger. Even at +the worst, should mishap befall you, you could so order matters as to +leave your girl-widow in your mother’s charge.” + +“Then,” added Ebbo, “she would still have one left to love and cherish +her. Sir Kasimir, it is well; though, if you knew me without my Friedel, +you would repent of your bargain.” + +“Thanks from my heart,” said Wildschloss, “but you need not be concerned. +You have never been over-friendly with me even with Friedel at your side. +But to business, my son. You will endure that title from me now? My +time is short.” + +“What would you have me do? Shall I send the little one a betrothal +ring, and ride to Ulm to wed and fetch her home in spring?” + +“That may hardly serve. These kinsmen would have seized on her and the +castle long ere that time. The only safety is the making wedlock as fast +as it can be made with a child of such tender years. Mine is the only +power that can make the abbess give her up, and therefore will I ride +this moonlight night to Ulm, bring the little one back with me by the +time the reconciliation be concluded, and then shall ye be wed by the +Abbot of St. Ruprecht’s, with the Kaisar for a witness, and thus will the +knot be too strong for the Trautbachs to untie.” + +Ebbo looked disconcerted, and gasped, as if this were over-quick +work.—“To-morrow!” he said. “Knows my mother?” + +“I go to speak with her at once. The Kaisar’s consent I have, as he +says, ‘If we have one vassal who has common sense and honesty, let us +make the most of him.’ Ah! my son, I shall return to see you his +counsellor and friend.” + +Those days had no delicacies as to the lady’s side taking the initiative: +and, in effect, the wealth and power of Wildschloss so much exceeded +those of the elder branch that it would have been presumptuous on +Eberhard’s part to have made the proposal. It was more a treaty than an +affair of hearts, and Sir Kasimir had not even gone through the form of +inquiring if Ebbo were fancy-free. It was true, indeed, that he was +still a boy, with no passion for any one but his mother; but had he even +formed a dream of a ladye love, it would scarcely have been deemed a +rational objection. The days of romance were no days of romance in +marriage. + +Yet Christina, wedded herself for pure love, felt this obstacle strongly. +The scheme was propounded to her over the hall fire by no less a person +than Maximilian himself, and he, whose perceptions were extremely keen +when he was not too much engrossed to use them, observed her reluctance +through all her timid deference, and probed her reasons so successfully +that she owned at last that, though it might sound like folly, she could +scarce endure to see her son so bind himself that the romance of his life +could hardly be innocent. + +“Nay, lady,” was the answer, in a tone of deep feeling. “Neither lands +nor honours can weigh down the up-springing of true love;” and he bowed +his head between his hands. + +Verily, all the Low Countries had not impeded the true-hearted affection +of Maximilian and Mary; and, though since her death his want of +self-restraint had marred his personal character and morals, and though +he was now on the point of concluding a most loveless political marriage, +yet still Mary was—as he shows her as the Beatrice of both his strange +autobiographical allegories—the guiding star of his fitful life; and in +heart his fidelity was so unbroken that, when after a long pause he again +looked up to Christina, he spoke as well understanding her feelings. + +“I know what you would say, lady; your son hardly knows as yet how much +is asked of him, and the little maid, to whom he vows his heart, is +over-young to secure it. But, lady, I have often observed that men, +whose family affections are as deep and fervent as your son’s are for you +and his brother, seldom have wandering passions, but that their love +flows deep and steady in the channels prepared for it. Let your young +Freiherr regard this damsel as his own, and you will see he will love her +as such.” + +“I trust so, my liege.” + +“Moreover, if she turn out like the spiteful Trautbach folk,” said +Maximilian, rather wickedly, “plenty of holes can be picked in a +baby-wedding. No fear of its over-firmness. I never saw one come to +good; only he must keep firm hold on the lands.” + +This was not easy to answer, coming from a prince who had no small +experience in premature bridals coming to nothing, and Christina felt +that the matter was taken out of her hands, and that she had no more to +do but to enjoy the warm-hearted Kaisar’s praises of her son. + +In fact, the general run of nobles were then so boorish and violent +compared with the citizens, that a nobleman who possessed intellect, +loyalty, and conscience was so valuable to the sovereign that Maximilian +was rejoiced to do all that either could bind him to his service or +increase his power. The true history of this expedition on the Emperor’s +part was this—that he had consulted Kasimir upon the question of the +Debateable Ford and the feud of Adlerstein and Schlangenwald, asking +further how his friend had sped in the wooing of the fair widow, to which +he remembered having given his consent at Ulm. + +Wildschloss replied that, though backed up by her kindred at Ulm, he had +made no progress in consequence of the determined opposition of her two +sons, and he had therefore resolved to wait a while, and let her and the +young Baron feel their inability to extricate themselves from the +difficulties that were sure to beset them, without his authority, +influence, and experience—fully believing that some predicament might +arise that would bring the mother to terms, if not the sons. + +This disaster did seem to have fallen out, and he had meant at once to +offer himself to the lady as her supporter and advocate, able to bring +about all her son could desire; though he owned that his hopes would have +been higher if the survivor had been the gentle, friendly Friedmund, +rather than the hot and imperious Eberhard, who he knew must be brought +very low ere his objections would be withdrawn. + +The touch of romance had quite fascinated Maximilian. He would see the +lady and her son. He would make all things easy by the personal +influence that he so well knew how to exert, backed by his imperial +authority; and both should see cause to be thankful to purchase consent +to the bridge-building, and pardon for the fray, by the marriage between +the widow and Sir Kasimir. + +But the Last of the Knights was a gentleman, and the meek dignity of his +hostess had hindered him from pressing on her any distasteful subject +until her son’s explanation of the uncertainty of her husband’s death had +precluded all mention of this intention. Besides, Maximilian was himself +greatly charmed by Ebbo’s own qualities—partly perhaps as an intelligent +auditor, but also by his good sense, high spirit, and, above all, by the +ready and delicate tact that had both penetrated and respected the +disguise. Moreover, Maximilian, though a faulty, was a devout man, and +could appreciate the youth’s unswerving truth, under circumstances that +did, in effect, imperil him more really than his guest. In this mood, +Maximilian felt disposed to be rid to the very utmost of poor Sir +Kasimir’s unlucky attachment to a wedded lady; and receiving letters +suggestive of the Eastern mission, instantly decided that it would only +be doing as he would be done by instantly to order the disappointed +suitor off to the utmost parts of the earth, where he would much have +liked to go himself, save for the unlucky clog of all the realm of +Germany. That Sir Kasimir had any tie to home he had for the moment +entirely forgotten; and, had he remembered it, the knight was so +eminently fitted to fulfil his purpose, that it could hardly have been +regarded. But, when Wildschloss himself devised his little heiress’s +union with the head of the direct line, it was a most acceptable proposal +to the Emperor, who set himself to forward it at once, out of policy, and +as compensation to all parties. + +And so Christina’s gentle remonstrance was passed by. Yet, with all her +sense of the venture, it was thankworthy to look back on the trembling +anxiety with which she had watched her boy’s childhood, and all his +temptations and perils, and compare her fears with his present position: +his alliance courted, his wisdom honoured, the child of the proud, +contemned outlaw received as the favourite of the Emperor, and the valued +ally of her own honoured burgher world. Yet he was still a mere lad. +How would it be for the future? + +Would he be unspoiled? Yes, even as she already viewed one of her twins +as the star on high—nay, when kneeling in the chapel, her dazzling tears +made stars of the glint of the light reflected in his bright helmet—might +she not trust that the other would yet run his course to and fro, as the +spark in the stubble? + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII +THE ALTAR OF PEACE + + +NO one could bear to waken the young Baron till the sun had risen high +enough to fall on his face and unclose his eyes. + +“Mother” (ever his first word), “you have let me sleep too long.” + +“Thou didst wake too long, I fear me.” + +“I hoped you knew it not. Yes, my wound throbbed sore, and the wonders +of the day whirled round my brain like the wild huntsman’s chase.” + +“And, cruel boy, thou didst not call to me.” + +“What, with such a yesterday, and such a morrow for you? while, chance +what may, I can but lie still. I thought I must call, if I were still so +wretched, when the last moonbeam faded; but, behold, sleep came, and +therewith my Friedel sat by me, and has sung songs of peace ever since.” + +“And hath lulled thee to content, dear son?” + +“Content as the echo of his voice and the fulfilment of his hope can make +me,” said Ebbo. + +And so Christina made her son ready for the day’s solemnities, arraying +him in a fine holland shirt with exquisite broidery of her own on the +collar and sleeves, and carefully disposing his long glossy, dark brown +hair so as to fall on his shoulders as he lay propped up by cushions. +She would have thrown his crimson mantle round him, but he repelled it +indignantly. “Gay braveries for me, while my Friedel is not yet in his +resting-place? Here—the black velvet cloak.” + +“Alas, Ebbo! it makes thee look more of a corpse than a bridegroom. Thou +wilt scare thy poor little spouse. Ah! it was not thus I had fancied +myself decking thee for thy wedding.” + +“Poor little one!” said Ebbo. “If, as your uncle says, mourning is the +seed of joy, this bridal should prove a gladsome one! But let her prove +a loving child to you, and honour my Friedel’s memory, then shall I love +her well. Do not fear, motherling; with the roots of hatred and jealousy +taken out of the heart, even sorrow is such peace that it is almost joy.” + +It was over early for pain and sorrow to have taught that lesson, thought +the mother, as with tender tears she gave place to the priest, who was to +begin the solemnities of the day by shriving the young Baron. It was +Father Norbert, who had in this very chamber baptized the brothers, while +their grandmother was plotting the destruction of their godfather, even +while he gave Friedmund his name of peace,—Father Norbert, who had from +the very first encouraged the drooping, heart-stricken, solitary +Christina not to be overcome of evil, but to overcome evil with good. + +A temporary altar was erected between the windows, and hung with the silk +and embroidery belonging to that in the chapel: a crucifix was placed on +it, with the shrine of the stone of Nicæa, one or two other relics +brought on St. Ruprecht’s cloister, and a beautiful mother-of-pearl and +gold pyx also from the abbey, containing the host. These were arranged +by the chaplain, Father Norbert, and three of his brethren from the +abbey. And then the Father Abbot, a kindly, dignified old man, who had +long been on friendly terms with the young Baron, entered; and after a +few kind though serious words to him, assumed a gorgeous cope stiff with +gold embroidery, and, standing by the altar, awaited the arrival of the +other assistants at the ceremony. + +The slender, youthful-looking, pensive lady of the castle, in her wonted +mourning dress, was courteously handed to her son’s bedside by the +Emperor. He was in his plain buff leathern hunting garb, unornamented, +save by the rich clasp of his sword-belt and his gold chain, and his head +was only covered by the long silken locks of fair hair that hung round +his shoulders; but, now that his large keen dark blue eyes were gravely +restrained, and his eager face composed, his countenance was so majestic, +his bearing so lofty, that not all his crowns could have better marked +his dignity. + +Behind him came a sunburnt, hardy man, wearing the white mantle and black +fleur-de-lis-pointed cross of the Teutonic Order. A thrill passed +through Ebbo’s veins as he beheld the man who to him represented the +murderer of his brother and both his grandfathers, the cruel oppressor of +his father, and the perpetrator of many a more remote, but equally +unforgotten, injury. And in like manner Sir Dankwart beheld the actual +slayer of his father, and the heir of a long score of deadly retribution. +No wonder then that, while the Emperor spoke a few words of salutation +and inquiry, gracious though not familiar, the two foes scanned one +another with a shiver of mutual repulsing, and a sense that they would +fain have fought it out as in the good old times. + +However, Ebbo only beheld a somewhat dull, heavy, honest-looking visage +of about thirty years old, good-nature written in all its flat German +features, and a sort of puzzled wonder in the wide light eyes that stared +fixedly at him, no doubt in amazement that the mighty huge-limbed +Wolfgang could have been actually slain by the delicately-framed youth, +now more colourless than ever in consequence of the morning’s fast. +Schleiermacher was also present, and the chief followers on either hand +had come into the lower part of the room—Hatto, Heinz, and Koppel, +looking far from contented; some of the Emperor’s suite; and a few +attendants of Schlangenwald, like himself connected with the Teutonic +Order. + +The Emperor spoke: “We have brought you together, Herr Graff von +Schlangenwald, and Herr Freiherr von Adlerstein, because ye have given us +reason to believe you willing to lay aside the remembrance of the foul +and deadly strifes of your forefathers, and to live as good Christians in +friendship and brotherhood.” + +“Sire, it is true,” said Schlangenwald; and “It is true,” said Ebbo. + +“That is well,” replied Maximilian. “Nor can our reign better begin than +by the closing of a breach that has cost the land some of its bravest +sons. Dankwart von Schlangenwald, art thou willing to pardon the heir of +Adlerstein for having slain thy father in free and honourable combat, as +well as, doubtless, for other deeds of his ancestors, more than I know or +can specify?” + +“Yea, truly; I pardon him, my liege, as befits my vow.” + +“And thou, Eberhard von Adlerstein, dost thou put from thee vengeance for +thy twin brother’s death, and all the other wrongs that thine house has +suffered?” + +“I put revenge from me for ever.” + +“Ye agree, further, then, instead of striving as to your rights to the +piece of meadow called the Debateable Strand, and to the wrecks of +burthens there cast up by the stream, ye will unite with the citizens of +Ulm in building a bridge over the Braunwasser, where, your mutual +portions thereof being decided by the Swabian League, toll may be taken +from all vehicles and beasts passing there over?” + +“We agree,” said both knights. + +“And I, also, on behalf of the two guilds of Ulm,” added Moritz +Schleiermacher. + +“Likewise,” continued the Emperor, “for avoidance of debate, and to +consecrate the spot that has caused so much contention, ye will jointly +erect a church, where may be buried both the relatives who fell in the +late unhappy skirmish, and where ye will endow a perpetual mass for their +souls, and those of others of your two races.” + +“Thereto I willingly agree,” said the Teutonic knight. But to Ebbo it +was a shock that the pure, gentle Friedmund should thus be classed with +his treacherous assassin; and he had almost declared that it would be +sacrilege, when he received from the Emperor a look of stern, surprised +command, which reminded him that concession must not be all on one side, +and that he could not do Friedel a greater wrong than to make him a cause +of strife. So, though they half choked him, he contrived to utter the +words, “I consent.” + +“And in token of amity I here tear up and burn all the feuds of +Adlerstein,” said Schlangenwald, producing from his pouch a collection of +hostile literature, beginning from a crumpled strip of yellow parchment +and ending with a coarse paper missive in the clerkly hand of +burgher-bred Hugh Sorel, and bearing the crooked signatures of the last +two Eberhards of Adlerstein—all with great seals of the eagle shield +appended to them. A similar collection—which, with one or two other +family defiances, and the letters of investiture recently obtained at +Ulm, formed the whole archives of Adlerstein—had been prepared within +Ebbo’s reach; and each of the two, taking up a dagger, made extensive +gashes in these documents, and then—with no mercy to the future +antiquaries, who would have gloated over them—the whole were hurled into +the flames on the hearth, where the odour they emitted, if not grateful +to the physical sense, should have been highly agreeable to the moral. + +“Then, holy Father Abbot,” said Maximilian, “let us ratify this happy and +Christian reconciliation by the blessed sacrifice of peace, over which +these two faithful knights shall unite in swearing good-will and +brotherhood.” + +Such solemn reconciliations were frequent, but, alas were too often a +mockery. Here, however, both parties were men who felt the awe of the +promise made before the Pardon-winner of all mankind. Ebbo, bred up by +his mother in the true life of the Church, and comparatively apart from +practical superstitions, felt the import to the depths of his inmost +soul, with a force heightened by his bodily state of nervous +impressibility; and his wan, wasted features and dark shining eyes had a +strange spiritual beam, “half passion and half awe,” as he followed the +words of universal forgiveness and lofty praise that he had heard last in +his anguished trance, when his brother lay dying beside him, and leaving +him behind. He knew now that it was for this. + +His deep repressed ardour and excitement were no small contrast to the +sober, matter-of-fact demeanour of the Teutonic knight, who comported +himself with the mechanical decorum of an ecclesiastic, but quite as one +who meant to keep his word. Maximilian served the mass in his royal +character as sub-deacon. He was fond of so doing, either from humility, +or love of incongruity, or both. No one, however, communicated except +the clergy and the parties concerned—Dankwart first, as being monk as +well as knight, then Eberhard and his mother; and then followed, +interposed into the rite, the oath of pardon, friendship, and brotherhood +administered by the abbot, and followed by the solemn kiss of peace. +There was now no recoil; Eberhard raised himself to meet the lips of his +foe, and his heart went with the embrace. Nay, his inward ear dwelt on +Friedmund’s song mingling with the concluding chants of praise. + +The service ended, it was part of the pledge of amity that the reconciled +enemies should break their fast together, and a collation of white bread +and wine was provided for the purpose. The Emperor tried to promote free +and friendly talk between the two adversaries, but not with great +success; for Dankwart, though honest and sincere, seemed extremely dull. +He appeared to have few ideas beyond his Prussian commandery and its +routine discipline, and to be lost in a castle where all was at his sole +will and disposal, and he caught eagerly at all proposals made to him as +if they were new lights. As, for instance, that some impartial +arbitrator should be demanded from the Swabian League to define the +boundary; and that next Rogation-tide the two knights should ride or +climb it in company, while meantime the serfs should be strictly charged +not to trespass, and any transgressor should be immediately escorted to +his own lord. + +“But,” quoth Sir Dankwart, in a most serious tone, “I am told that a +she-bear wons in a den on yonder crag, between the pass you call the +Gemsbock’s and the Schlangenwald valley. They told me the right in it +had never been decided, and I have not been up myself. To say truth, I +have lived so long in the sand plains as to have lost my mountain legs, +and I hesitated to see if a hunter could mount thither for fear of fresh +offence; but, if she bide there till Rogation-tide, it will be ill for +the lambs.” + +“Is that all?” cried Maximilian. “Then will I, a neutral, kill your bear +for you, gentlemen, so that neither need transgress this new crag of +debate. I’ll go down and look at your bear spears, friend Ebbo, and be +ready so soon as Kasimir has done with his bridal.” + +“That crag!” cried Ebbo. “Little good will it do either of us. Sire, it +is a mere wall of sloping rock, slippery as ice, and with only a stone or +matting of ivy here and there to serve as foothold.” + +“Where bear can go, man can go,” replied the Kaisar. + +“Oh, yes! We have been there, craving your pardon, Herr Graf,” said +Ebbo, “after a dead chamois that rolled into a cleft, but it is the worst +crag on all the hill, and the frost will make it slippery. Sire, if you +do venture it, I conjure you to take Koppel, and climb by the rocks from +the left, not the right, which looks easiest. The yellow rock, with a +face like a man’s, is the safer; but ach, it is fearful for one who knows +not the rocks.” + +“If I know not the rocks, all true German rocks know me,” smiled +Maximilian, to whom the danger seemed to be such a stimulus that he began +to propose the bear-hunt immediately, as an interlude while waiting for +the bride. + +However, at that moment, half-a-dozen horsemen were seen coming up from +the ford, by the nearer path, and a forerunner arrived with the tidings +that the Baron of Adlerstein Wildschloss was close behind with the little +Baroness Thekla. + +Half the moonlight night had Sir Kasimir and his escort ridden; and, +after a brief sleep at the nearest inn outside Ulm, he had entered in +early morning, demanded admittance at the convent, made short work with +the Abbess Ludmilla’s arguments, claimed his daughter, and placing her on +a cushion before him on his saddle, had borne her away, telling her of +freedom, of the kind lady, and the young knight who had dazzled her +childish fancy. + +Christina went down to receive her. There was no time to lose, for the +huntsman Kaisar was bent on the slaughter of his bear before dark, and, +if he were to be witness of the wedding, it must be immediate. He was in +a state of much impatience, which he beguiled by teasing his friend +Wildschloss by reminding him how often he himself had been betrothed, and +had managed to slip his neck out of the noose. “And, if my Margot be not +soon back on my hands, I shall give the French credit,” he said, tossing +his bear-spear in the air, and catching it again. “Why, this bride is as +long of busking her as if she were a beauty of seventeen! I must be off +to my Lady Bearess.” + +Thus nothing could be done to prepare the little maiden but to divest her +of her mufflings, and comb out her flaxen hair, crowning it with a wreath +which Christina had already woven from the myrtle of her own girlhood, +scarcely waiting to answer the bewildered queries and entreaties save by +caresses and admonitions to her to be very good. + +Poor little thing! She was tired, frightened, and confused; and, when +she had been brought upstairs, she answered the half smiling, half shy +greeting of her bridegroom with a shudder of alarm, and the exclamation, +“Where is the beautiful young knight? That’s a lady going to take the +veil lying under the pall.” + +“You look rather like a little nun yourself,” said Ebbo, for she wore a +little conventual dress, “but we must take each other for such as we +are;” and, as she hid her face and clung to his mother, he added in a +more cheerful, coaxing tone, “You once said you would be my wife.” + +“Ah, but then there were two of you, and you were all shining bright.” + +Before she could be answered, the impatient Emperor returned, and brought +with him the abbot, who proceeded to find the place in his book, and to +ask the bridegroom for the rings. Ebbo looked at Sir Kasimir, who owned +that he should have brought them from Ulm, but that he had forgotten. + +“Jewels are not plenty with us,” said Ebbo, with a glow of amusement and +confusion dawning on his cheek, such as reassured the little maid that +she beheld one of the two beautiful young knights. “Must we borrow?” + +Christina looked at the ring she had first seen lying on her own +Eberhard’s palm, and felt as if to let it be used would sever the renewed +hope she scarcely yet durst entertain; and at the same moment Maximilian +glanced at his own fingers, and muttered, “None but this! Unlucky!” For +it was the very diamond which Mary of Burgundy had sent to assure him of +her faith, and summon him to her aid after her father’s death. Sir +Kasimir had not retained the pledge of his own ill-omened wedlock; but, +in the midst of the dilemma, the Emperor, producing his dagger, began to +detach some of the massive gold links of the chain that supported his +hunting-horn. “There,” said he, “the little elf of a bride can get her +finger into this lesser one and you—verily this largest will fit, and the +goldsmith can beat it out when needed. So on with you in St. Hubert’s +name, Father Abbot!” + +Slender-boned and thin as was Ebbo’s hand, it was a very tight fit, but +the purpose was served. The service commenced; and fortunately, thanks +to Thekla’s conventual education, she was awed into silence and decorum +by the sound of Latin and the sight of an abbot. It was a strange +marriage, if only in the contrast between the pale, expressive face and +sad, dark eyes of the prostrate youth, and the frightened, bewildered +little girl, standing upon a stool to reach up to him, with her blue eyes +stretched with wonder, and her cheeks flushed and pouting with unshed +tears, her rosy plump hand enclosed in the long white wasted one that was +thus for ever united to it by the broken fragments of Kaisar Max’s chain. + +The rite over, two attestations of the marriage of Eberhard, Freiherr von +Adlerstein, and Thekla, Freiherrinn von Adlerstein Wildschloss and +Felsenbach, were drawn up and signed by the abbot, the Emperor, Count +Dankwart, and the father and mother of the two contracting parties; one +to be committed to the care of the abbot, the other to be preserved by +the house of Adlerstein. + +Then the Emperor, as the concluding grace of the ceremonial, bent to kiss +the bride; but, tired, terrified, and cross, Thekla, as if quite relieved +to have some object for her resentment, returned his attempt with a +vehement buffet, struck with all the force of her small arm, crying out, +“Go away with you! I know I’ve never married _you_!” + +“The better for my eyes!” said the good-natured Emperor, laughing +heartily. “My Lady Bearess is like to prove the more courteous bride! +Fare thee well, Sir Bridegroom,” he added, stooping over Ebbo, and +kissing his brow; “Heaven give thee joy of this day’s work, and of thy +faithful little fury. I’ll send her the bearskin as her meetest +wedding-gift.” + +And the next that was heard from the Kaisar was the arrival of a parcel +of Italian books for the Freiherr Eberhard, and for the little +Freiherrinn a large bundle, which proved to contain a softly-dressed +bearskin, with the head on, the eyes being made of rubies, a gold muzzle +and chain on the nose, and the claws tipped with gold. The Emperor had +made a point that it should be conveyed to the castle, snow or no snow, +for a yule gift. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV +OLD IRON AND NEW STEEL + + +THE clear sunshine of early summer was becoming low on the hillsides. +Sparkling and dimpling, the clear amber-coloured stream of the +Braunwasser rippled along its stony bed, winding in and out among the +rocks so humbly that it seemed to be mocked by the wide span of the arch +that crossed it in all the might of massive bulwarks, and dignified +masonry of huge stones. + +Some way above, a clearing of the wood below the mountain showed huts, +and labourers apparently constructing a mill so as to take advantage of +the leap of the water from the height above; and, on the left bank, an +enclosure was traced out, within which were rising the walls of a small +church, while the noise of the mallet and chisel echoed back from the +mountain side, and masons, white with stone-dust, swarmed around. + +Across the bridge came a pilgrim, marked out as such by hat, wallet, and +long staff, on which he leant heavily, stumbling along as if both halting +and footsore, and bending as one bowed down by past toil and present +fatigue. Pausing in the centre, he gazed round with a strange +disconcerted air—at the castle on the terraced hillside, looking down +with bright eyes of glass glittering in the sunshine, and lighting up +even that grim old pile; at the banner hanging so lazily that the +tinctures and bearings were hidden in the folds; then at the crags, rosy +purple in evening glow, rising in broad step above step up to the Red +Eyrie, bathed in sunset majesty of dark crimson; and above it the sweep +of the descending eagle, discernible for a moment in the pearly light of +the sky. The pilgrim’s eye lighted up as he watched it; but then, +looking down at bridge, and church, and trodden wheel-tracked path, he +frowned with perplexity, and each painful step grew heavier and more +uncertain. + +Near the opposite side of the enclosure there waited a tall, +rugged-looking, elderly man with two horses—one an aged mare, mane, tail, +and all of the snowiest silvery white; the other a little shaggy dark +mountain pony, with a pad-saddle. And close to the bank of the stream +might be seen its owner, a little girl of some seven years, whose tight +round lace cap had slipped back, as well as her blue silk hood, and +exposed a profusion of loose flaxen hair, and a plump, innocent face, +intent upon some private little bit of building of her own with some +pebbles from the brook, and some mortar filched from the operations +above, to the great detriment of her soft pinky fingers. + +The pilgrim looked at her unperceived, and for a moment was about to +address her; but then, with a strange air of repulsion, dragged himself +on to the porch of the rising church, where, seated on a block of stone, +he could look into the interior. All was unfinished, but the portion +which had made the most progress was a chantry-chapel opposite to the +porch, and containing what were evidently designed to be two monuments. +One was merely blocked out, but it showed the outline of a warrior, +bearing a shield on which a coiled serpent was rudely sketched in red +chalk. The other, in a much more forward state, was actually under the +hands of the sculptor, and represented a slender youth, almost a boy, +though in the full armour of a knight, his hands clasped on his breast +over a lute, an eagle on his shield, an eagle-crest on his helmet, and, +under the arcade supporting the altar-tomb, shields alternately of eagles +and doves. + +But the strangest thing was that this young knight seemed to be sitting +for his own effigy. The very same face, under the very same helmet, only +with the varied, warm hues of life, instead of in cold white marble, was +to be seen on the shoulders of a young man in a gray cloth dress, with a +black scarf passing from shoulder to waist, crossed by a sword-belt. The +hair was hidden by the helmet, whose raised visor showed keen, finely-cut +features, and a pair of dark brown eyes, of somewhat grave and sad +expression. + +“Have a care, Lucas,” he presently said; “I fear me you are chiselling +away too much. It must be a softer, more rounded face than mine has +become; and, above all, let it not catch any saddened look. Keep that +air of solemn waiting in glad hope, as though he saw the dawn through his +closed eyelids, and were about to take up his song again!” + +“Verily, Herr Freiherr, now the likeness is so far forward, the actual +sight of you may lead me to mar it rather than mend.” + +“So is it well that this should be the last sitting. I am to set forth +for Genoa in another week. If I cannot get letters from the Kaisar, I +shall go in search of him, that he may see that my lameness is no more an +impediment.” + +The pilgrim passed his hand over his face, as though to dissipate a +bewildering dream; and just then the little girl, all flushed and +dabbled, flew rushing up from the stream, but came to a sudden standstill +at sight of the stranger, who at length addressed her. “Little lady,” he +said, “is this the Debateable Ford?” + +“No; now it is the Friendly Bridge,” said the child. + +The pilgrim started, as with a pang of recollection. “And what is yonder +castle?” he further asked. + +“Schloss Adlerstein,” she said, proudly. + +“And you are the little lady of Adlerstein Wildschloss?” + +“Yes,” again she answered; and then, gathering courage—“You are a holy +pilgrim! Come up to the castle for supper and rest.” And then, +springing past him, she flew up to the knight, crying, “Herr Freiherr, +here is a holy pilgrim, weary and hungry. Let us take him home to the +mother.” + +“Did he take thee for a wild elf?” said the young man, with an +elder-brotherly endeavour to right the little cap that had slidden under +the chin, and to push back the unmanageable wealth of hair under it, ere +he rose; and he came forward and spoke with kind courtesy, as he observed +the wanderer’s worn air and feeble step. “Dost need a night’s lodging, +holy palmer? My mother will make thee welcome, if thou canst climb as +high as the castle yonder.” + +The pilgrim made an obeisance, but, instead of answering, demanded +hastily, “See I yonder the bearing of Schlangenwald?” + +“Even so. Schloss Schlangenwald is about a league further on, and thou +wilt find a kind reception there, if thither thou art bent.” + +“Is that Graff Wolfgang’s tomb?” still eagerly pursued the pilgrim; and +receiving a sign in the affirmative, “What was his end?” + +“He fell in a skirmish.” + +“By whose hand?” + +“By mine.” + +“Ha!” and the pilgrim surveyed him with undisguised astonishment; then, +without another word, took up his staff and limped out of the building, +but not on the road to Schlangenwald. It was nearly a quarter of an hour +afterwards that he was overtaken by the young knight and the little lady +on their horses, just where the new road to the castle parted from the +old way by the Eagle’s Ladder. The knight reined up as he saw the poor +man’s slow, painful steps, and said, “So thou art not bound for +Schlangenwald?” + +“I would to the village, so please you—to the shrine of the Blessed +Friedmund.” + +“Nay, at this rate thou wilt not be there till midnight,” said the young +knight, springing off his horse; “thou canst never brook our sharp +stones! See, Thekla, do thou ride on with Heinz to tell the mother I am +bringing her a holy pilgrim to tend. And thou, good man, mount my old +gray. Fear not; she is steady and sure-footed, and hath of late been +used to a lame rider. Ah! that is well. Thou hast been in the saddle +before.” + +To go afoot for the sake of giving a lift to a holy wayfarer was one of +the most esteemed acts of piety of the Middle Age, so that no one durst +object to it, and the palmer did no more than utter a suppressed murmur +of acknowledgment as he seated himself on horseback, the young knight +walking by his rein. “But what is this?” he exclaimed, almost with +dismay. “A road to the castle up here!” + +“Yes, we find it a great convenience. Thou art surely from these parts?” +added the knight. + +“I was a man-at-arms in the service of the Baron,” was the answer, in an +odd, muffled tone. + +“What!—of my grandfather!” was the exclamation. + +“No!” gruffly. “Of old Freiherr Eberhard. Not of any of the Wildschloss +crew.” + +“But I am not a Wildschloss! I am grandson to Freiherr Eberhard! Oh, +wast thou with him and my father when they were set upon in the hostel?” +he cried, looking eagerly up to the pilgrim; but the man kept his +broad-leaved hat slouched over his face, and only muttered, “The son of +Christina!” the last word so low that Ebbo was not sure that he caught +it, and the next moment the old warrior exclaimed exultingly, “And you +have had vengeance on them! When—how—where?” + +“Last harvest-tide—at the Debateable Strand,” said Ebbo, never able to +speak of the encounter without a weight at his heart, but drawn on by the +earnestness of the old foe of Schlangenwald. “It was a meeting in full +career—lances broken, sword-stroke on either hand. I was sore wounded, +but my sword went through his collar-bone.” + +“Well struck! good stroke!” cried the pilgrim, in rapture. “And with +that sword?” + +“With this sword. Didst know it?” said Ebbo, drawing the weapon, and +giving it to the old man, who held it for a few moments, weighed it +affectionately, and with a long low sigh restored it, saying, “It is +well. You and that blade have paid off the score. I should be content. +Let me dismount. I know my way to the hermitage.” + +“Nay, what is this?” said Ebbo; “thou must have rest and food. The +hermitage is empty, scarce habitable. My mother will not be balked of +the care of thy bleeding feet.” + +“But let me go, ere I bring evil on you all. I can pray up there, and +save my soul, but I cannot see it all.” + +“See what?” said Ebbo, again trying to see his guest’s face. “There may +be changes, but an old faithful follower of my father’s must ever be +welcome.” + +“Not when his wife has taken a new lord,” growled the stranger, bitterly, +“and he a Wildschloss! Young man, I could have pardoned aught else!” + +“I know not who you may be who talk of pardoning my lady-mother,” said +Ebbo, “but new lord she has neither taken nor will take. She has refused +every offer; and, now that Schlangenwald with his last breath confessed +that he slew not my father, but sold him to the Turks, I have been only +awaiting recovery from my wound to go in search of him.” + +“Who then is yonder child, who told me she was Wildschloss?” + +“That child,” said Ebbo, with half a smile and half a blush, “is my wife, +the daughter of Wildschloss, who prayed me to espouse her thus early, +that so my mother might bring her up.” + +By this time they had reached the castle court, now a well-kept, +lordly-looking enclosure, where the pilgrim looked about him as one +bewildered. He was so infirm that Ebbo carefully helped him up the stone +stairs to the hall, where he already saw his mother prepared for the +hospitable reception of the palmer. Leaving him at the entrance, Ebbo +crossed the hall to say to her in a low voice, “This pilgrim is one of +the old lanzknechts of my grandfather’s time. I wonder whether you or +Heinz will know him. One of the old sort—supremely discontented at +change.” + +“And thou hast walked up, and wearied thyself!” exclaimed Christina, +grieved to see her son’s halting step. + +“A rest will soon cure that,” said Ebbo, seating himself as he spoke on a +settle near the hall fire; but the next moment a strange wild low shriek +from his mother made him start up and spring to her side. She stood with +hands clasped, and wondering eyes. The pilgrim—his hat on the ground, +his white head and rugged face displayed—was gazing as though devouring +her with his eyes, murmuring, “Unchanged! unchanged!” + +“What is this!” thundered the young Baron. “What are you doing to the +lady?” + +“Hush! hush, Ebbo!” exclaimed Christina. “It is thy father! On thy +knees! Thy father is come! It is our son, my own lord. Oh, embrace +him! Kneel to him, Ebbo!” she wildly cried. + +“Hold, mother,” said Ebbo, keeping his arm round her, though she +struggled against him, for he felt some doubts as he looked back at his +walk with the stranger, and remembered Heinz’s want of recognition. “Is +it certain that this is indeed my father?” + +“Oh, Ebbo,” was the cry of poor Christina, almost beside herself, “how +could I not be sure? I know him! I feel it! Oh, my lord, bear with +him. It is his wont to be so loving! Ebbo, cannot you see it is +himself?” + +“The young fellow is right,” said the stranger, slowly. “I will answer +all he may demand.” + +“Forgive me,” said Ebbo, abashed, “forgive me;” and, as his mother broke +from him, he fell upon his knee; but he only heard his father’s cry, “Ah! +Stine, Stine, thou alone art the same,” and, looking up, saw her, with +her face hidden in the white beard, quivering with a rapture such as he +had never seen in her before. It seemed long to him ere she looked up +again in her husband’s face to sob on: “My son! Oh! my beautiful twins! +Our son! Oh, see him, dear lord!” And the pilgrim turned to hear Ebbo’s +“Pardon, honoured father, and your blessing.” + +Almost bashfully the pilgrim laid his hand on the dark head, and murmured +something; then said, “Up, then! The slayer of Schlangenwald kneeling! +Ah! Stine, I knew thy little head was wondrous wise, but I little +thought thou wouldst breed him up to avenge us on old Wolfgang! So +slender a lad too! Ha! Schneiderlein, old rogue, I knew thee,” holding +out his hand. “So thou didst get home safe?” + +“Ay, my lord; though, if I left you alive, never more will I call a man +dead,” said Heinz. + +“Worse luck for me—till now,” said Sir Eberhard, whose tones, rather than +his looks, carried perfect conviction of his identity. It was the old +homely accent, and gruff good-humoured voice, but with something subdued +and broken in the tone. His features had grown like his father’s, but he +looked much older than ever the hale old mountaineer had done, or than +his real age; so worn and lined was his face, his skin tanned, his +eyelids and temples puckered by burning sun, his hair and beard white as +the inane of his old mare, the proud Adlerstein port entirely gone. He +stooped even more without his staff than with it; and, when he yielded +himself with a sigh of repose to his wife’s tendance, she found that he +had not merely the ordinary hurts of travelling, but that there were old +festering scars on his ankles. “The gyves,” he said, as she looked up at +him, with startled, pitying eyes. “Little deemed I that they would ever +come under thy tender hands.” As he almost timidly smoothed the braid of +dark hair on her brow—“So they never burnt thee for a witch after all, +little one? I thought my mother would never keep her hands off thee, and +used to fancy I heard the crackling of the flame.” + +“She spared me for my children’s sake,” said Christina; “and truly Heaven +has been very good to us, but never so much as now. My dear lord, will +it weary thee too much to come to the castle chapel and give thanks?” she +said, timidly. + +“With all my heart,” he answered, earnestly. “I would go even on my +knees. We were not without masses even in Tunis; but, when Italian and +Spaniard would be ransomed, and there was no mind of the German, I little +thought I should ever sing Brother Lambert’s psalm about turning our +captivity as rivers in the south.” + +Ebbo was hovering round, supplying all that was needed for his father’s +comfort; but his parents were so completely absorbed in one another that +he was scarcely noticed, and, what perhaps pained him more, there was no +word about Friedel. He felt this almost an injustice to the brother who +had been foremost in embracing the idea of the unknown father, and +scarcely understood how his parents shrank from any sorrowful thought +that might break in on their new-found joy, nor that he himself was so +strange and new a being in his father’s eyes, that to imagine him doubled +was hardly possible to the tardy, dulled capacity, which as yet seemed +unable to feel anything but that here was home, and Christina. + +When the chapel bell rang, and the pair rose to offer their thanksgiving, +Ebbo dutifully offered his support, but was absolutely unseen, so fondly +was Sir Eberhard leaning on his wife; and her bright exulting smile and +shake of the head gave an absolute pang to the son who had hitherto been +all in all to her. + +He followed, and, as they passed Friedmund’s coffin, he thought his +mother pointed to it, but even of this he was uncertain. The pair knelt +side by side with hands locked together, while notes of praise rose from +all voices; and meantime Ebbo, close to that coffin, strove to share the +joy, and to lift up a heart that _would_ sink in the midst of +self-reproach for undutifulness, and would dislike the thought of the +rude untaught man, holding aloof from him, likely to view him with +distrust and jealousy, and to undo all he had achieved, and further +absorbing the mother, the mother who was to him all the world, and for +whose sake he had given his best years to the child-wife, as yet nothing +to him. + +It was reversing the natural order of things that, after reigning from +infancy, he should have to give up at eighteen to one of the last +generation; and some such thought rankled in his mind when the whole +household trooped joyfully out of the chapel to prepare a banquet for +their old new lord, and their young old lord was left alone. + +Alone with the coffin where the armour lay upon the white cross, Ebbo +threw himself on his knees, and laid his head upon it, murmuring, “Ah, +Friedel! Friedel! Would that we had changed places! Thou wouldst brook +it better. At least thou didst never know what it is to be lonely.” + +“Herr Baron!” said a little voice. + +His first movement was impatient. Thekla was apt to pursue him wherever +he did not want her; but here he had least expected her, for she had a +great fear of that coffin, and could hardly be brought to the chapel at +prayer times, when she generally occupied herself with fancies that the +empty helmet glared at her. But now Ebbo saw her standing as near as she +durst, with a sweet wistfulness in her eyes, such as he had never seen +there before. + +“What is it, Thekla?” he said. “Art sent to call me?” + +“No; only I saw that you stayed here all alone,” she said, clasping her +hands. + + [Picture: “‘No; only I saw that you stayed here all alone,’ she said, + clasping her hands.” Page 269] + +“Must I not be alone, child?” he said, bitterly. “Here lies my brother. +My mother has her husband again!” + +“But you have me!” cried Thekla; and, as he looked up between amusement +and melancholy, he met such a loving eager little face, that he could not +help holding out his arms, and letting her cling to him. “Indeed,” she +said, “I’ll never be afraid of the helmet again, if only you will not lay +down your head there, and say you are alone.” + +“Never, Thekla! while you are my little wife,” said he; and, child as she +was, there was strange solace to his heart in the eyes that, once vacant +and wondering, had now gained a look of love and intelligence. + +“What are you going to do?” she said, shuddering a little, as he rose and +laid his hand on Friedel’s sword. + +“To make thee gird on thine own knight’s sword,” said Ebbo, unbuckling +that which he had so long worn. “Friedel,” he added, “thou wouldst give +me thine. Let me take up thy temper with it, thine open-hearted love and +humility.” + +He guided Thekla’s happy little fingers to the fastening of the belt, and +then, laying his hand on hers, said gravely, “Thekla, never speak of what +I said just now—not even to the mother. Remember, it is thy husband’s +first secret.” + +And feeling no longer solitary when his hand was in the clasp of hers, he +returned to the hall, where his father was installed in the baronial +chair, in which Ebbo had been at home from babyhood. His mother’s +exclamation showed that her son had been wanting to her; and she looked +fuller than ever of bliss when Ebbo gravely stood before his father, and +presented him with the good old sword that he had sent to his unborn son. + +“You are like to use it more than I,—nay, you have used it to some +purpose,” said he. “Yet must I keep mine old comrade at least a little +while. Wife, son, sword, should make one feel the same man again, but it +is all too wonderful!” + +All that evening, and long after, his hand from time to time sought the +hilt of his sword, as if that touch above all proved to him that he was +again a free noble in his own castle. + +The story he told was thus. The swoon in which Heinz had left him had +probably saved his life by checking the gush of blood, and he had known +no more till he found himself in a rough cart among the corpses. At +Schlangenwald’s castle he had been found still breathing, and had been +flung into a dungeon, where he lay unattended, for how long he never +knew, since all the early part of the time was lost in the clouds of +fever. On coarse fare and scanty drink, in that dark vault, he had +struggled by sheer obstinacy of vitality into recovery. In the very +height of midsummer alone did the sun peep through the grating of his +cell, and he had newly hailed this cheerful visitor when he was roughly +summoned, placed on horseback with eyes and hands bound, and only allowed +sight again to find himself among a herd of his fellow Germans in the +Turkish camp. They were the prisoners of the terrible Turkish raid of +1475, when Georg von Schenk and fourteen other noblemen of Austria and +Styria were all taken in one unhappy fight, and dragged away into +captivity, with hundreds of lower rank. + +To Sir Eberhard the change had been greatly for the better. The Turk had +treated him much better than the Christian; and walking in the open air, +chained to a German comrade, was far pleasanter than pining in his lonely +dungeon. At Adrianople, an offer had been made to each of the captives, +if they would become Moslems, of entering the Ottoman service as Spahis; +but with one voice they had refused, and had then been draughted into +different divisions. The fifteen nobles, who had been offered for +ransom, were taken to Constantinople, to await its arrival, and they had +promised Sir Eberhard to publish his fate on their return to their homes; +and, though he knew the family resources too well to have many hopes, he +was rather hurt to find that their promise had been unfulfilled. + +“Alas! they had no opportunity,” said Ebbo. “Gulden were scarce, or were +all in Kaisar Friedrich’s great chest; the ransoms could not be raised, +and all died in captivity. I heard about it when I was at Wurms last +month.” + +“The boy at Wurms?” almost gasped Sir Eberhard in amaze. + +“I had to be there about matters concerning the Wildschloss lands and the +bridge,” said Ebbo; “and both Dankwart von Schlangenwald and I made +special inquiries about that company in case you should have shared their +fate. I hoped to have set forth at that time, but the Kaisar said I was +still too lame, and refused me license, or letters to the Sultan.” + +“You would not have found me,” said his father, narrating how he with a +large troop of captives had been driven down to the coast; where they +were transferred to a Moorish slave-dealer, who shipped them off for +Tunis. Here, after their first taste of the miseries of a sea life, the +alternative of Islam or slavery was again put before them. “And, by the +holy stone of Nicæa,” said Sir Eberhard, “I thought by that time that the +infidels had the advantage of us in good-will and friendliness; but, when +they told me women had no souls at all, no more than a horse or dog, I +knew it was but an empty dream of a religion; for did I not know that my +little Ermentrude, and thou, Stine, had finer, clearer, wiser souls than +ever a man I had known? ‘Nay, nay,’ quoth I, ‘I’ll cast in my lot where +I may meet my wife hereafter, should I never see her here.’” He had then +been allotted to a corsair, and had thenceforth been chained to the bench +of rowers, between the two decks, where, in stifling heat and stench, in +storm or calm, healthy or diseased, the wretched oarsmen were compelled +to play the part of machinery in propelling the vessel, in order to +capture Christian ships—making exertions to which only the perpetual lash +of the galley-master could have urged their exhausted frames; often not +desisting for twenty or thirty hours, and rowing still while sustenance +was put into their mouths by their drivers. Many a man drew has last +breath with his last stroke, and was at the first leisure moment hurled +into the waves. It was the description that had so deeply moved Friedel +long ago, and Christina wept over it, as she looked at the bowed form +once so proud and free, and thought of the unhealed scars. But there, +her husband added, he had been chained next to a holy friar of German +blood, like himself a captive of the great Styrian raid; and, while some +blasphemed in their misery, or wildly chid their patron saints, this good +man strove to show that all was to work out good; he had a pious saying +for all that befell, and adored the will of God in thus purifying him; +“And, if it were thus with a saint like him, I thought, what must it be +with a rough freebooting godless sinner such as I had been? See”—and he +took out a rosary of strung bladders of seaweed; “that is what he left me +when he died, and what I meant to have been telling for ever up in the +hermitage.” + +“He died, then?” + +“Ay—he died on the shore of Corsica, while most of the dogs were off +harrying a village inland, and we had a sort of respite, or I trow he +would have rowed till his last gasp. How he prayed for the poor wretches +they were gone to attack!—ay, and for all of us—for me also—There’s +enough of it. Such talk skills not now.” + +It was plain that Sir Eberhard had learnt more Christianity in the hold +of his Moorish pirate ship than ever in the Holy Roman Empire, and a +weight was lifted off his son’s mind by finding that he had vowed never +to return to a life of violence, even though fancying a life of penance +in a hermitage the only alternative. + +Ebbo asked if the Genoese merchant, Ser Gian Battista dei Battiste, had +indeed been one of his fellow-captives. + +“Ha!—what?” and on the repetition, “Truly I knew him, Merchant Gian as we +used to call him; but you twang off his name as they speak it in his own +stately city.” + +Christina smiled. “Ebbo learnt the Italian tongue this winter from our +chaplain, who had studied at Bologna. He was told it would aid in his +quest of you.” + +“Tell me not!” said the traveller, holding up his hands in deprecation; +“the Junker is worse than a priest! And yet he killed old Wolfgang! But +what of Gian? Hold,—did not he, when I was with him at Genoa, tell me a +story of being put into a dungeon in a mountain fortress in Germany, and +released by a pair of young lads with eyes beaming in the sunrise, who +vanished just as they brought him to a cloister? Nay, he deemed it a +miracle of the saints, and hung up a votive picture thereof at the shrine +of the holy Cosmo and Damian.” + +“He was not so far wrong in deeming _one_ of the lads near of kin to the +holy ones,” said Christina, softly. + +And Ebbo briefly narrated the adventure, when it evidently appeared that +his having led at least one foray gave his father for the first time a +fellow-feeling for him, and a sense that he was one of the true old +stock; but, when he heard of the release, he growled, “So! How would a +lad have fared who so acted in my time? My poor old mother! She must +have been changed indeed not to have scourged him till he had no strength +to cry out.” + +“He was my prisoner!” said Ebbo, in his old defiant tone; “I had the +right.” + +“Ah, well! the Junker has always been master here, and I never!” said the +elder knight, looking round rather piteously; and Ebbo, with a sudden +movement, exclaimed, “Nay, sir, you are the only lord and master, and I +stand ready to be the first to obey you.” + +“You! A fine young book-learned scholar, already knighted, and with all +these Wildschloss lands too!” said Sir Eberhard, gazing with a strange +puzzled look at the delicate but spirited features of this strange +perplexing son. “Reach hither your hand, boy.” + +And as he compared the slender, shapely hand of such finely-textured skin +with the breadth of his own horny giant’s paw, he tossed it from him, +shaking his head with a gesture as if he had no commands for such +feminine-looking fingers to execute, and mortifying Ebbo not a little. +“Ah!” said Christina, apologetically, “it always grieved your mother that +the boys would resemble me and mine. But, when daylight comes, Ebbo will +show you that he has not lost the old German strength.” + +“No doubt—no doubt,” said Sir Eberhard, hastily, “since he has slain +Schlangenwald; and, if the former state of things be at an end, the less +he takes after the ancient stock the better. But I am an old man now, +Stine, though thou look’st fair and fresh as ever, and I do not know what +to make of these things. White napery on the table; glass drinking +things;—nay, were it not for thee and the Schneiderlein, I should not +know I was at home.” + +He was led back to his narration, and it appeared that, after some years +spent at the oar, certain bleedings from the lungs, the remains of his +wound, had become so much more severe as to render him useless for naval +purposes; and, as he escaped actually dying during a voyage, he was +allowed to lie by on coming into port till he had in some degree +recovered, and then had been set to labour at the fortifications, chained +to another prisoner, and toiling between the burning sand and burning +sun, but treated with less horrible severity than the necessities of the +sea had occasioned on board ship, and experiencing the benefit of +intercourse with the better class of captives, whom their miserable fate +had thrown into the hands of the Moors. + +It was a favourite almsdeed among the Provençals, Spaniards, and Italians +to send money for the redemption of prisoners to the Moors, and there was +a regular agency for ransoms through the Jews; but German captives were +such an exception that no one thought of them, and many a time had the +summons come for such and such a slave by name, or for five poor +Sicilians, twenty Genoese, a dozen Marseillais, or the like, but still no +word for the Swabian; till he had made up his mind that he should either +leave his bones in the hot mud of the harbour, or be only set free by +some gallant descent either of the brave King of Portugal, or of the +Knights of Rhodes, of whom the captives were ever dreaming and +whispering. + +At length his own slave name was shouted; he was called up by the captain +of his gang, and, while expecting some fresh punishment, or, maybe, to +find himself sold into some domestic form of slavery, he was set before a +Jewish agent, who, after examining him on his name, country, and station, +and comparing his answers with a paper of instructions, informed him that +he was ransomed, caused his fetters to be struck off, and shipped him off +at once for Genoa, with orders to the captain to consign him to the +merchant Signor del Battiste. By him Sir Eberhard had been received with +the warmest hospitality, and treated as befitted his original station, +but Battista disclaimed the merit of having ransomed him. He had but +acted, he said, as the agent of an Austrian gentleman, from whom he had +received orders to inquire after the Swabian baron who had been his +fellow-captive, and, if he were still living, to pay his ransom, and +bring him home. + +“The name—the name!” eagerly asked Ebbo and his mother at once. + +“The name? Gian was wont to make bad work of our honest German names, +but I tried to learn this—being so beholden to him. I even caused it to +be spelt over to me, but my letters long ago went from me. It seems to +me that the man is a knight-errant, like those of thy ballads, Stine—one +Ritter Theur—Theur—” + +“Theurdank!” cried Ebbo. + +“Ay, Theurdank. What, you know him? There is nothing you and your +mother don’t know, I believe.” + +“Know him! Father, he is our greatest and noblest! He has been kind to +me beyond description. He is the Kaisar! Now I see why he had that +strange arch look which so vexed me when he forbade me on my allegiance +to set forth till my lameness should be gone! Long ago had he asked me +all about Gian Battista. To him he must have written.” + +“The Kaisar!” said Sir Eberhard. “Nay, the poor fellows I left in Turkey +ever said he was too close of fist for them to have hope from him.” + +“Oh! that was old Kaisar Friedrich. This is our own gallant Maximilian—a +knight as true and brave as ever was paladin,” said Christina; “and most +truly loving and prizing our Ebbo.” + +“And yet I wish—I wish,” said Ebbo, “that he had let me win my father’s +liberty for myself.” + +“Yea, well,” said his father, “there spoke the Adlerstein. We never were +wont to be beholden to king or kaisar.” + +“Nay,” say Ebbo, after a moment’s recollection, colouring as he spoke; +“it is true that I deserved it not. Nay, Sir Father, it is well. You +owe your freedom in very truth to the son you have not known. It was he +who treasured up the thought of the captive German described by the +merchant, and even dreamt of it, while never doubting of your death; it +was he who caught up Schlangenwald’s first hint that you lived, while I, +in my pride, passed it by as merely meant to perplex me; it was he who +had formed an absolute purpose of obtaining some certainty; and at last, +when my impetuosity had brought on the fatal battle, it was he who bought +with his own life the avowal of your captivity. I had hoped to have +fulfilled Friedel’s trust, and to have redeemed my own backwardness; but +it is not to be. While I was yet lying helpless on my bed, the Emperor +has taken it out of my power. Mother, you receive him from Friedel’s +hands, after all.” + +“And well am I thankful that so it should be,” said Christina. “Ah, +Ebbo! sorely should I have pined with anxiety when thou wast gone. And +thy father knows that thou hadst the full purpose.” + +“Yea, I know it,” said the old man; “and, after all, small blame to him +even if he had not. He never saw me, and light grieves the heart for +what the eye hath not seen.” + +“But,” added the wife, “since the Romish king freed you, dear lord, cared +he not better for your journey than to let you come in this forlorn +plight?” + +This, it appeared, was far from being his deliverer’s fault. Money had +been supplied, and Sir Eberhard had travelled as far as Aosta with a +party of Italian merchants; but no sooner had he parted with them than he +was completely astray. His whole experience of life had been as a robber +baron or as a slave, and he knew not how to take care of himself as a +peaceful traveller; he suffered fresh extortions at every stage, and +after a few days was plundered by his guides, beaten, and left devoid of +all means of continuing the journey to which he could hardly hope for a +cheerful end. He did not expect to find his mother living,—far less that +his unowned wife could have survived the perils in which he had involved +her; and he believed that his ancestral home would, if not a ruin, be +held by his foes, or at best by the rival branch of the family, whose +welcome of the outlawed heir would probably be to a dungeon, if not a +halter. Yet the only magnet on earth for the lonely wanderer was his +native mountain, where from some old peasant he might learn how his fair +young bride had perished, and perhaps the sins of his youth might be +expiated by continual prayer in the hermitage chapel where his sister lay +buried, and whence he could see the crags for which his eye and heart had +craved so long with the home-sickness of a mountaineer. + +And now, when his own Christina had welcomed him with all the overflow of +her loving heart, unchanged save that hers had become a tenderer yet more +dignified loveliness; when his gallant son, in all the bloom of young +manhood, received him with dutiful submission; when the castle, in a +state of defence, prosperity, and comfort of which he had never dreamt, +was again his own;—still the old man was bewildered, and sometimes +oppressed almost to distress. He had, as it were, fallen asleep in one +age of the world, and wakened in another, and it seemed as if he really +wished to defer his wakening, or else that repose was an absolute novelty +to him; for he sat dozing in his chair in the sun the whole of the next +day, and scarcely spoke. + +Ebbo, who felt it a necessity to come to an understanding of the terms on +which they were to stand, tried to refer matters to him, and to explain +the past, but he was met sometimes by a shake of the head, sometimes by a +nod—not of assent, but of sleep; and his mother advised him not to harass +the wearied traveller, but to leave him to himself at least for that day, +and let him take his own time for exertion, letting things meantime go on +as usual. Ebbo obeyed, but with a load at his heart, as he felt that all +he was doing was but provisional, and that it would be his duty to resign +all that he had planned, and partly executed, to this incompetent, +ignorant rule. He could certainly, when not serving the Emperor, go and +act for himself at Thekla’s dower castle of Felsenbach, and his mother +might save things from going to utter ruin at Adlerstein; but no +reflection or self-reproach could make it otherwise than a bitter pill to +any Telemachus to have to resign to one so unlike Ulysses in all but the +length of his wanderings,—one, also, who seemed only half to like, and +not at all to comprehend, his Telemachus. + +Meantime Ebbo attended to such matters as were sure to come each day +before the Herr Freiherr. Now it was a question whether the stone for +the mill should be quarried where it would undermine a bit of grass land, +or further on, where the road was rougher; now Berend’s swine had got +into Barthel’s rye, and Barthel had severely hurt one of them—the Herr +Freiherr’s interference could alone prevent a hopeless quarrel; now a +waggon with ironwork for the mill claimed exemption from toll as being +for the Baron: and he must send down the toll, to obviate injustice +towards Schlangenwald and Ulm. Old Ulrich’s grandson, who had run away +for a lanzknecht, had sent a letter home (written by a comrade), the +Baron must read and answer it. Steinmark’s son wanted to be a poor +student: the Herr Freiherr must write him a letter of recommendation. +Mother Grethel’s ewe had fallen into a cleft; her son came to borrow a +rope, and ask aid, and the Baron must superintend the hoisting the poor +beast up again. Hans had found the track of a wolf, and knew the hole +where a litter of cubs abode; the Freiherr, his wolf-hound, and his spear +were wanted for their destruction. Dietrich could not tell how to manage +his new arquebus: the Baron must teach him to take aim. Then there was a +letter from Ulm to invite the Baron to consult on the tax demanded by the +Emperor for his Italian war, and how far it should concern the profits of +the bridge; and another letter from the Markgraf of Wurtemburg, as chief +of the Swabian League, requesting the Lord of Adlerstein to be on the +look-out for a band of robbers, who were reported to be in neighbouring +hills, after being hunted out of some of their other lurking-places. + +That very night, or rather nearly at the dawn of a summer morning, there +was a yelling below the castle, and a flashing of torches, and tidings +rang through it that a boor on the outskirts of the mountain had had his +ricks fired and his cattle driven by the robbers, and his young daughters +carried off. Old Sir Eberhard hobbled down to the hall in time to see +weapons flashing as they were dealt out, to hear a clear decided voice +giving orders, to listen to the tramp of horse, and watch more reitern +pass out under the gateway than ever the castle had counted in his +father’s time. Then he went back to his bed, and when he came down in +the morning, found all the womankind of the castle roasting and boiling. +And, at noon, little Thekla came rushing down from the watch-tower with +news that all were coming home up the Eagle’s Steps, and she was sure +_her_ baron had sent her, and waved to her. Soon after, _her_ baron in +his glittering steel rode his cream-coloured charger (once Friedel’s) +into the castle court, followed by his exultant merrymen. They had +overtaken the thieves in good time, made them captives, and recovered the +spoil unhurt; and Heinz and Koppel made the castle ring with the deed of +their young lord, who had forced the huge leader of the band to the +earth, and kept him down by main strength till they could come to bind +him. + +“By main strength?” slowly asked Sir Eberhard, who had been stirred into +excitement. + +“He was a loose-limbed, awkward fellow,” said Ebbo, “less strong than he +looked.” + +“Not only that, Sir,” said Heinz, looking from his old master to his +young one; “but old iron is not a whit stronger than new steel, though +the one looks full of might, and you would think the other but a toy.” + +“And what have you done with the rogues’ heads?” asked the old knight. +“I looked to see them on your spears. Or have you hung them?” + +“Not so, Sir,” said Ebbo. “I sent the men off to Stuttgard with an +escort. I dislike doing execution ourselves; it makes the men so +lawless. Besides, this farmer was Schlangenwalder.” + +“And yet he came to you for redress?” + +“Yes, for Sir Dankwart is at his commandery, and he and I agreed to look +after each other’s lands.” + +Sir Eberhard retired to his chair as if all had gone past his +understanding, and thence he looked on while his son and wife hospitably +regaled, and then dismissed, their auxiliaries in the rescue. + +Afterwards Christina told her son that she thought his father was rested, +and would be better able to attend to him, and Ebbo, with a painful +swelling in his heart, approached him deferentially, with a request that +he would say what was his pleasure with regard to the Emperor, to whom +acknowledgments must in the first place be made for his release, and next +would arise the whole question of homage and investiture. + +“Look you here, fair son,” said Sir Eberhard, rousing himself, “these +things are all past me. I’ll have none of them. You and your Kaisar +understand one another, and your homage is paid. It boots not changing +all for an old fellow that is but come home to die.” + +“Nay, father, it is in the order of things that you should be lord here.” + +“I never was lord here, and, what is more, I would not, and could not be. +Son, I marked you yesterday. You are master as never was my poor father, +with all the bawling and blows that used to rule the house, while these +fellows mind you at a word, in a voice as quiet as your mother’s. +Besides, what should I do with all these mills and bridges of yours, and +Diets, and Leagues, and councils enough to addle a man’s brain? No, no; +I could once slay a bear, or strike a fair stroke at a Schlangenwalder, +but even they got the better of me, and I am good for nothing now but to +save my soul. I had thought to do it as a hermit up there; but my little +Christina thinks the saints will be just as well pleased if I tell my +beads here, with her to help me, and I know that way I shall not make so +many mistakes. So, young Sir, if you can give the old man a corner of +the hearth while he lives, he will never interfere with you. And, maybe, +if the castle were in jeopardy in your absence, with that new-fangled +road up to it, he could tell the fellows how to hold it out.” + +“Sir—dear father,” cried the ardent Ebbo, “this is not a fit state of +things. I will spare you all trouble and care; only make me not +undutiful; take your own place. Mother, convince him!” + +“No, my son,” said Sir Eberhard; “your mother sees what is best for me. +I only want to be left to her to rest a little while, and repent of my +sinful life. As Heinz says, the rusty old iron must lie by while the new +steel does the work. It is quiet that I need. It is joy enough for me +to see what she has made you, and all around. Ah! Stine, my white dove, +I knew thine was a wise head; but when I left thee, gentle little +frightened, fluttering thing, how little could I have thought that all +alone, unaided, thou wouldst have kept that little head above water, and +made thy son work out all these changes—thy doing—and so I know they are +good and seemly. I see thou hast made him clerkly, quick-witted, and yet +a good knight. Ah! thou didst tell me oft that our lonely pride was not +high nor worthy fame. Stine, how didst do it?” + +“I did it not, dear husband; God did it for me. He gave the boys the +loving, true tempers that worked out the rest! He shielded them and me +in our days of peril.” + +“Yes, father,” added Ebbo, “Providence guarded us; but, above all, our +chief blessing has been the mother who has made one of us a holy saint, +and taught the other to seek after him! Father, I am glad you see how +great has been the work of the Dove you brought to the Eagle’s Nest.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXV +THE STAR AND THE SPARK + + +THE year 1531 has begun, and Schloss Adlerstein remains in its strength +on the mountain side, but with a look of cultivation on its environs such +as would have amazed Kunigunde. Vines run up trellises against the +rocks; pot-herbs and flowers nestle in the nooks; outbuildings cluster +round it; and even the grim old keep has a range of buildings connected +with it, as if the household had entirely outgrown the capacities of the +square tower. + +Yet the old hall is still the chief place of assembly, and now that it +has been wainscoted, with a screen of carved wood to shut off the +draughty passages, and a stove of bright tiles to increase the warmth, it +is far more cheerful. Moreover, a window has been opened showing the +rich green meadow below, with the bridge over the Braunwasser, and the +little church, with a spire of pierced lace-work, and white cottages +peeping out of the retreating forest. + +That is the window which the Lady Baroness loves. See her there, the +lovely old lady of seventy-five—yes, lovelier than ever, for her sweet +brown eyes have the same pensive, clear beauty, enhanced by the snowy +whiteness of her hair, of which a soft braid shows over the pure pale +brow beneath the white band, and sweeping black veil, that she has worn +by right for twenty years. But the slight form is active and brisk, and +there are ready smiles and looks of interest for the pretty fair-haired +maidens, three in number, who run in and out from their household +avocations to appeal to the “dear grandmother,” mischievously to tell of +the direful yawns proceeding from brothers Ebbo and Gottfried over their +studies with their tutor, or to gaze from the window and wonder if the +father, with the two brothers, Friedel Max and Kasimir, will return from +Ulm in time for the “mid-day eating.” + +Ah! there they are. Quick-eyed Vittoria has seen the cavalcade first, +and dances off to tell Ermentrude and Stine time enough to prepare their +last batch of fritters for the new-comers; Ebbo and Götz rush headlong +down the hillside; and the Lady Baroness lays down her distaff, and gazes +with eyes of satisfied content at the small party of horsemen climbing up +the footpath. Then, when they have wound out of sight round a rock, she +moves out towards the hall-door, with a light, quick step, for never yet +has she resigned her great enjoyment, that of greeting her son on the +steps of the porch—those steps where she once met such fearful news, but +where that memory has been effaced by many a cheerful welcome. + +There, then, she stands, amid the bright throng of grandchildren, while +the Baron and his sons spring from their horses and come up to her. The +Baron doffs his Spanish hat, bends the knee, kisses her hand, and +receives her kiss on his brow, with the fervour of a life-devotion, +before he turns to accept the salutation of his daughters, and then takes +her hand, with pretty affectionate ceremony, to hand her back to her +seat. A few words pass between them. “No, motherling,” he says, “I +signed it not; I will tell you all by and by.” + +And then the mid-day meal is served for the whole household, as of old, +with the salt-cellar in the middle, but with a far larger company above +it than when first we saw it. The seven young folks preserve a decorous +silence, save when Fraulein Ermentrude’s cookeries are good-naturedly +complimented by her father, or when Baron Friedmund Maximilianus breaks +out with some wonderful fact about new armour seen at Ulm. He is a +handsome, fair, flaxen-haired young man—like the old Adlersteins, say the +elder people—and full of honest gaiety and good nature, the special pride +of his sisters; and no sooner is the meal over, than, with a formal +entreaty for dismissal, all the seven, and all the dogs, move off +together, to that favourite gathering-place round the stove, where all +their merry tongues are let loose together. + +To them, the Herr Vater and the Frau Grossmutter seem nearly of the same +age, and of the same generation; and verily the eighteen years between +the mother and son have dwindled into a very small difference even in +appearance, and a lesser one in feeling. She is a youthful, beautiful +old lady; he a grave, spare, worn, elderly man, in his full strength, but +with many a trace of care and thought, and far more of silver than of +brown in his thin hair and pointed beard, and with a melancholy +thoughtfulness in his clear brown eyes—all well corresponding with the +gravity of the dress in which he has been meeting the burghers of Ulm; a +black velvet suit—only relieved by his small white lace ruff, and the +ribbon and jewel of the Golden Fleece, the only other approach to +ornament that he wears being that ring long ago twisted off the Emperor +Maximilian’s chain. But now, as he has bowed off the chaplain to his +study, and excused himself from aiding his two gentlemen-squires in +consuming their krug of beer, and hands his mother to her favourite nook +in the sunny window, taking his seat by her side, his features assume an +expression of repose and relaxation as if here indeed were his true home. +He has chosen his seat in full view of a picture that hangs on the +wainscoted wall, near his mother—a picture whose pure ethereal tinting, +of colour limpid as the rainbow, yet rich as the most glowing +flower-beds; and its soft lovely _pose_, and rounded outlines, prove it +to be no produce even of one of the great German artists of the time, but +to have been wrought, under an Italian sky, by such a hand as left us the +marvellous smile of Mona Lisa. It represents two figures, one +unmistakably himself when in the prime of life, his brow and cheeks +unfurrowed, and his hair still thick, shining brown, but with the same +grave earnestness of the dark eye that came with the early sense of +responsibility, and with the first sorrow of his youth. The other +figure, one on which the painter evidently loved to dwell, is of a lady, +so young that she might almost pass for his daughter, except for the +peculiar, tender sweetness that could only become the wife and mother. +Fair she is as snow, with scarce a deepening of the rose on cheek, or +even lip, fragile and transparent as a spiritual form, and with a light +in the blue eyes, and a grace in the soft fugitive smile, that scarce +seems to belong to earth; a beauty not exactly of feature, but rather the +pathetic loveliness of calm fading away—as if she were already melting +into the clear blue sky with the horizon of golden light, that the +wondrous power of art has made to harmonize with, but not efface, her +blue dress, golden hair, white coif, and fair skin. It is as if she +belonged to that sky, and only tarried as unable to detach herself from +the clasp of the strong hand round and in which both her hands are +twined; and though the light in her face may be from heaven, yet the +whole countenance is fixed in one absorbed, almost worshipping gaze of +her husband, with a wistful simplicity and innocence on devotion, like +the absorption of a loving animal, to whom its master’s presence is bliss +and sunshine. It is a picture to make light in a dark place, and that +sweet face receives a loving glance, nay, an absolutely reverent bend of +the knightly head, as the Baron seats himself. + +“So it was as we feared, and this Schmalkaldic League did not suit thy +sense of loyalty, my son?” she asks, reading his features anxiously. + +“No, mother. I ever feared that further pressure would drive our friends +beyond the line where begin schism and rebellion; and it seems to me that +the moment is come when I must hold me still, or transgress mine own +sense of duty. I must endure the displeasure of many I love and +respect.” + +“Surely, my son, they have known you too long and too well not to respect +your motives, and know that conscience is first with you.” + +“Scarce may such confidence be looked for, mother, from the most part, +who esteem every man a traitor to the cause if he defend it not precisely +in the fashion of their own party. But I hear that the King of France +has offered himself as an ally, and that Dr. Luther, together with others +of our best divines, have thereby been startled into doubts of the +lawfulness of the League.” + +“And what think you of doing, my son?” + +“I shall endeavour to wait until such time as the much-needed General +Council may proclaim the ancient truth, and enable us to avouch it +without disunion. Into schism I _will_ not be drawn. I have held truth +all my life in the Church, nor will I part from her now. If intrigues +again should prevail, then, Heaven help us! Meantime, mother, the best +we can, as has ever been your war-cry.” + +“And much has been won for us. Here are the little maidens, who, save +Vittoria, would never have been scholars, reading the Holy Word daily in +their own tongue.” + +“Ach, I had not told you, mother! I have the Court Secretary’s answer +this day about that command in the Kaisar’s guards that my dear old +master had promised to his godson.” + +“Another put-off with Flemish courtesy, I see by thy face, Ebbo.” + +“Not quite that, mother. The command is ready for the Baron Friedmund +Maximilianus von Adlerstein Wildschloss, and all the rest of it, on the +understanding that he has been bred up free from all taint of the new +doctrine.” + +“New? Nay, it is the oldest of all doctrine.” + +“Even so. As I ever said, Dr. Luther hath been setting forth in greater +clearness and fulness what our blessed Friedel and I learnt at your knee, +and my young ones have learnt from babyhood of the true Catholic +doctrine. Yet I may not call my son’s faith such as the Kaisar’s Spanish +conscience-keepers would have it, and so the boy must e’en tarry at home +till there be work for his stout arm to do.” + +“He seems little disappointed. His laugh comes ringing the loudest of +all.” + +“The Junker is more of a boy at two-and-twenty than I ever recollect +myself! He lacks not sense nor wit, but a fray or a feast, a chase or a +dance, seem to suffice him at an age when I had long been dwelling on +matters of moment.” + +“Thou wast left to be thine own pilot; he is but one of thy gay crew, and +thus even these stirring times touch him not so deeply as thou wert +affected by thine own choice in life between disorderly freedom and +honourable restraint.” + +“I thought of that choice to-day, mother, as I crossed the bridge and +looked at the church; and more than ever thankful did I feel that our +blessed Friedel, having aided me over that one decisive pass, was laid to +rest, his tender spirit unvexed by the shocks and divisions that have +wrenched me hither and thither.” + +“Nay; not hither and thither. Ever hadst thou a resolute purpose and +aim.” + +“Ever failed in by my own error or that of others—What, thou nestling +here, my little Vittoria, away from all yonder prattle?” + +“Dear father, if I may, I love far best to hear you and the grandmother +talk.” + +“Hear the child! She alone hath your face, mother, or Friedel’s eyes! +Is it that thou wouldst be like thy noble Roman godmother, the Marchesa +di Pescara, that makes thee seek our grave company, little one?” + +“I always long to hear you talk of her, and of the Italian days, dear +father, and how you won this noble jewel of yours.” + +“Ah, child, that was before those times! It was the gift of good Kaisar +Max at his godson’s christening, when he filled your sweet mother with +pretty spite by persuading her that it was a little golden bear-skin.” + +“Tell her how you had gained it, my son.” + +“By vapouring, child; and by the dull pride of my neighbours. Heard’st +thou never of the siege of Padua, when we had Bayard, the best knight in +Europe, and 500 Frenchmen for our allies? Our artillery had made a +breach, and the Kaisar requested the French knights to lead the storm, +whereto they answered, Well and good, but our German nobles must share +the assault, and not leave them to fight with no better backers than the +hired lanzknechts. All in reason, quoth I, and more shame for us not to +have been foremost in our Kaisar’s own cause; but what said the rest of +our misproud chivalry? They would never condescend to climb a wall on +foot in company with lanzknechts! On horseback must their worships +fight, or not at all; and when to shame them I called myself a +mountaineer, more used to climb than to ride, and vowed that I should +esteem it an honour to follow such a knight as Bayard, were it on all +fours, then cast they my burgher blood in my teeth. Never saw I the +Kaisar so enraged; he swore that all the common sense in the empire was +in the burgher blood, and that he would make me a knight of the noblest +order in Europe to show how he esteemed it. And next morning he was +gone! So ashamed was he of his own army that he rode off in the night, +and sent orders to break up the siege. I could have torn my hair, for I +had just lashed up a few of our nobles to a better sense of honour, and +we would yet have redeemed our name! And after all, the Chapter of proud +Flemings would never have admitted me had not the heralds hunted up that +the Sorels were gentlemen of blood and coat armour long ago at Liège. I +am glad my father lived to see that proved, mother. He could not honour +thee more than he did, but he would have been sorely grieved had I been +rejected. He often thought me a mechanical burgher, as it was.” + +“Not quite so, my son. He never failed to be proud of thy deeds, even +when he did not understand them; but this, and the grandson’s birth, were +the crowning joys of his life.” + +“Yes, those were glad triumphant years, take them all in all, ere the +Emperor sent me to act ambassador in Rome, and we left you the two elder +little girls and the boy to take care of. My dear little Thekla! She +had a foreboding that she might never see those children more, yet would +she have pined her heart away more surely had I left her at home! I +never was absent a week but I found her wasted with watching for me.” + +“It was those weary seven years of Italy that changed thee most, my son.” + +“Apart from you, mother, and knowing you now indeed to be widowed, and +with on the one hand such contradictory commands from the Emperor as made +me sorely ashamed of myself, of my nation, and of the man whom I loved +and esteemed personally the most on earth, yet bound there by his express +command, while I saw my tender wife’s health wasting in the climate day +by day! Yet still, while most she gasped for a breath of Swabian hills, +she ever declared it would kill her outright to send her from me. And +thus it went on till I laid her in the stately church of her own +patroness. Then how it would have fared with me and the helpless little +ones I know not, but for thy noble godmother, my Vittoria, the wise and +ready helper of all in trouble, the only friend thy mother had made at +Rome, and who had been able, from all her heights of learning and +accomplishment, to value my Thekla’s golden soul in its simplicity. Even +then, when too late, came one of the Kaisar’s kindest letters, recalling +me,—a letter whose every word I would have paid for with a drop of my own +blood six weeks before! and which he had only failed to send because his +head was running on the plan of that gorgeous tomb where he is not +buried! Well, at least it brought us home to you again once more, +mother, and, where you are, comfort never has been utterly absent from +me. And then, coming from the wilful gloom of Pope Leo’s court into our +Germany, streamed over by the rays of Luther’s light, it was as if a new +world of hope were dawning, as if truth would no longer be muffled, and +the young would grow up to a world far better and purer than the old had +ever seen. What trumpet-calls those were, and how welcome was the voice +of the true Catholic faith no longer stifled! And my dear old Kaisar, +with his clear eyes, his unfettered mind—he felt the power and truth of +those theses. He bade the Elector of Saxony well to guard the monk +Luther as a treasure. Ah! had he been a younger man, or had he been more +firm and resolute, able to act as well as think for himself, things might +have gone otherwise with the Church. He could think, but could not act; +and now we have a man who acts, but _will_ not think. It may have been a +good day for our German reputation among foreign princes when Charles V. +put on the crown; but only two days in my life have been as mournful to +me as that when I stood by Kaisar Max’s death-bed at Wells, and knew that +generous, loving, fitful spirit was passing away from the earth! Never +owned I friend I loved so well as Kaisar Max! Nor has any Emperor done +so much for this our dear land.” + +“The young Emperor never loved thee.” + +“He might have treated me as one who could be useful, but he never +forgave me for shaking hands with Luther at the Diet of Worms. I knew it +was all over with my court favour after I had joined in escorting the +Doctor out of the city. And the next thing was that Georg of Freundsberg +and his friends proclaimed me a bigoted Papist because I did my utmost to +keep my troop out of the devil’s holiday at the sack of Rome! It has +ever been my lot to be in disgrace with one side or the other! Here is +my daughter’s marriage hindered on the one hand, my son’s promotion +checked on the other, because I have a conscience of my own, and not of +other people’s! Heaven knows the right is no easy matter to find; but, +when one thinks one sees it, there is nothing to be done but to guide +oneself by it, even if the rest of the world will not view it in the same +light.” + +“Nothing else! I doubt me whether it be ever easy to see the veritably +right course while still struggling in the midst. That is for after +ages, which behold things afar off; but each man must needs follow his +own principle in an honest and good heart, and assuredly God will guide +him to work out some good end, or hinder some evil one.” + +“Ay, mother. Each party may guard one side or other of the truth in all +honesty and faithfulness; he who cannot with his whole heart cast in his +lot with either,—he is apt to serve no purpose, and to be scorned.” + +“Nay, Ebbo, may he not be a witness to the higher and more perfect truth +than either party have conceived? Nor is inaction always needful. That +which is right towards either side still reveals itself at the due +moment, whether it be to act or to hold still. And verily, Ebbo, what +thou didst say even now has set me on a strange thought of mine own +dream, that which heralded the birth of thyself and thy brother. As thou +knowest, it seemed to me that I was watching two sparkles from the +extinguished Needfire wheel. One rose aloft and shone as a star!” + +“My guiding-star!” + +“The other fulfilled those words of the Wise Man. It shone and ran to +and fro in the grass. And surely, my Ebbo, thy mother may feel that, in +all these dark days of perplexity and trial, the spark of light hath ever +shone and drawn its trail of brightness in the gloom, even though the way +was long, and seemed uncertain.” + +“The mother who ever fondled me _will_ think so, it may be! But, ah! she +had better pray that the light be clearer, and that I may not fall +utterly short of the star!” + + * * * * * + +Travellers in Wurtemburg may perhaps turn aside from glorious old Ulm, +and the memories of the battlefields around it, to the romantic country +round the Swabian mountains, through which descend the tributaries of the +Danube. Here they may think themselves fortunate if they come upon a +green valley, with a bright mountain torrent dashing through it, fresh +from the lofty mountain, with terraced sides that rise sheer above. An +old bridge, a mill, and a neat German village lie clustered in the +valley; a seignorial mansion peeps out of the forest glades; and a lovely +church, of rather late Gothic, but beautifully designed, attracts the eye +so soon as it can be persuaded to quit the romantic outline of the ruined +baronial castle high up on one of the mountain ledges. Report declares +that there are tombs in the church well worth inspection. You seek out +an old venerable blue-coated peasant who has charge of the church. + +“What is yonder castle?” + +“It is the castle of Adlerstein.” + +“Are the family still extant?” + +“Yea, yea; they built yonder house when the Schloss became ruinous. They +have always been here.” + +The church is very beautiful in its details, the carved work of the east +end and pulpit especially so, but nothing is so attractive as the altar +tomb in the chantry chapel. It is a double one, holding not, as usual, +the recumbent effigies of a husband and wife, but of two knights in +armour. + +“Who are these, good friend?” + +“They are the good Barons Ebbo and Friedel.” + +Father and son they appear to be, killed at the same time in some fatal +battle, for the white marble face of one is round with youth, no hair on +lip nor chin, and with a lovely peaceful solemnity, almost cheerfulness, +in the expression. The other, a bearded man, has the glory of old age in +his worn features, beautiful and restful, but it is as if one had gone to +sleep in the light of dawn, the other in the last glow of sunset. Their +armour and their crests are alike, but the young one bears the eagle +shield alone, while the elder has the same bearing repeated upon an +escutcheon of pretence; the young man’s hands are clasped over a harp, +those of the other over a Bible, and the elder wears the insignia of the +order of the Golden Fleece. They are surely father and son, a maiden +knight and tried warrior who fell together? + +“No,” the guide shakes his head; “they are twin brothers, the good Barons +Ebbo and Friedel, who were born when their father had been taken captive +by the Saracens while on a crusade. Baron Friedel was slain by the Turks +at the bridge foot, and his brother built the church in his memory. He +first planted vines upon the mountains, and freed the peasants from the +lord’s dues on their flax. And it is true that the two brothers may +still be seen hovering on the mountain-side in the mist at sunset, +sometimes one, sometimes both.” + +You turn with a smile to the inscription, sure that those windows, those +porches, that armour, never were of crusading date, and ready to refute +the old peasant. You spell out the upright Gothic letters around the +cornice of the tomb, and you read, in mediæval Latin,— + + “Orate pro Anima Friedmundis Equitis Baronis Adlersteini. A. D. + mccccxciii” + +Then turn to the other side and read— + + “Hic jacet Eberardus Eques Baro Adlersteini. A.D. mdxliii. Demum” + +Yes, the guide is right. They are brothers, with well-nigh a lifetime +between their deaths. Is that the meaning of that strange _Demum_? + +Few of the other tombs are worth attention, each lapsing further into the +bad taste of later ages; yet there is one still deserving admiration, +placed close to the head of that of the two Barons. It is the effigy of +a lady, aged and serene, with a delicately-carved face beneath her stiff +head-gear. Surely this monument was erected somewhat later, for the +inscription is in German. Stiff, contracted, hard to read, but this is +the rendering of it:— + + “Here lies Christina Sorel, wife of Eberhard, xxth Baron von + Adlerstein, and mother of the Barons Eberhard and Friedmund. She + fell asleep two days before her son, on the feast of St. John, + mdxliii. + + “Her children shall rise up and call her blessed. + + “Erected with full hearts by her grandson, Baron Friedmund + Maximilianus, and his brothers and sisters. Farewell.” + + * * * * * + + THE END. + + * * * * * + + * * * * * + + _Richard Clay & Sons_, _Limited_, _London & Bungay_ + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOVE IN THE EAGLE'S NEST*** + + +******* This file should be named 3139-0.txt or 3139-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/1/3/3139 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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