The iron door upon its hinges creaks,A lurid light upon the prison breaks,The captive, starting at a footstep's sound,Springs from his lonely couch, to gaze around.Wieland.
The iron door upon its hinges creaks,
A lurid light upon the prison breaks,
The captive, starting at a footstep's sound,
Springs from his lonely couch, to gaze around.
Wieland.
The troop, surrounding their prisoner, moved on in silence towards the town hall. A single torch was their only light on the way, and Albert thanked Heaven that it gave but a feeble glare; for he fancied that every one who met him must suppose he was being led to prison. But this was not the only thought which engrossed his mind. This was the first time in his life he had been in any dilemma, and it was not without dread that he figured to himself all the horrors of a damp dreary dungeon, remembering to have visited the one in his old castle. He was on the point of speaking to his leader on the subject, when it struck him he might be accused of a childish fear, and therefore he proceeded in silence.
He was, however, not a little surprised when he was led into a large handsome room, not very habitable indeed, as its furniture consisted only of a bedstead, and an uncommon large fire-place, but it was a palace compared to what his imagination had conjured up. The old soldier wished his prisoner a good night, and retired with the rest of his party. A little thin old man then made his appearance; a large bunch of keys, which hung by his side, rattling like a chain when he moved, announced him as the gaoler or servant of the town hall. He laid some large logs of wood in the fire-place, and made a blazing fire; a cheering companion on a cold night in March. He then spread an ample woollen covering on the bedstead, and the first word that Albert heard from him was a friendly invitation to make himself comfortable. He thanked the old man for his kind attention, though his place of rest for the night did not offer much to tempt him to repose.
"This apartment is set aside for knights in your situation," said the old gaoler; "the common people are confined under ground, and are not so well off."
"Is it long since any one lodged here?" asked Albert, looking around the room.
"A Herr von Berger was the last; he died on that very bed seven years ago: God be merciful to his soul! He appeared to be fond of this place, for he often rises from his coffin at midnight to visit his old quarters."
"How?" said Albert, smiling, "has he been seen since his death?"
The old man looked fearfully around the room, now faintly lighted by the dying embers of the fire: he put another log on, and murmured, "Ah, many strange stories are about."
"Did he die on that covering?" said Albert, whilst an involuntary shudder came over him.
"Yes, sir," whispered the gaoler, "he breathed his last on that very covering; God grant he may not have descended lower than purgatory! That covering is now called his winding-sheet, and this apartment the knight's death-room!" With this, the old man quietly slipt out of the room, as if he were afraid the slightest noise might awaken the departed knight.
"And so I am to sleep on the winding-sheet in the death-room of the knight," thought Albert, and felt his heart beat quicker, for his nurse and old servants had often related ghost stories to him in his boyhood. He was undecided whether he should lay himself on the bed. There was neither stool nor bench in the room; and the brick paved floor was still colder and harder than the appointed place of repose; but he began to feel ashamed of his fears, and at once rolled himself in the winding-sheet on the death-bed of the knight.
A clear conscience softens a hard bed. Albert said his prayers, and soon fell asleep. But it did not last long, for he was awoke by strange noises, which appeared to be in the room. He thought it was a dream; he took courage--he listened--he listened again: it was no deception--he heard heavy footsteps in his apartment. The fire at this moment blazed up, and threw its light upon a large dark figure. The distance of the fire-place from the bed was not great. The figure moved towards him; he felt the winding-sheet shake; he was unable to control a momentary shudder, when a cold hand, endeavouring to remove the covering, fell on his forehead. He sprang up, and eyeing the figure which stood before him by the light of the fire, he recognised the well-known features of George von Fronsberg.
"Is it you, general?" said Albert, who now breathed more freely, and threw his cloak aside to receive the knight with proper respect.
"Remain, remain where you are," said the other, and gently compelled him to resume his seat; "I will set myself beside you, and have half an hour's talk, for it is only just past nine o'clock, and no one is yet in bed in Ulm, excepting such hot-brained fellows as you, whose heads require cooling on a hard pillow."
"Oh! how can I merit this kind consideration at your hands," said Albert, "after having treated your good intentions towards me with apparent ingratitude?"
"No excuse, my young friend," answered the general, "you are but the counterpart of your father; just like him, precipitate in praise and blame, in decision and speech. That he was an honorable man, I know, and I know also how unhappy his violent temper made him, as well as his obstinacy, which he called firmness."
"But tell me, dear sir," replied Albert, "could I have acted otherwise to-day? Did not the conduct of Truchses push me to extremities?"
"You might have acted otherwise, if you had humoured the ways of that man, who gave you a specimen of his character the other day. You ought to have known also that there were many present who would not have seen you imposed upon. But you threw away the good with the bad, or as the proverb says, 'You threw away the child out of the bathing tub with the water,' and flew out of the room."
"Age and experience will, I trust, cool my blood in due time," replied Albert; "I can put up with harshness and severity, when they do not affect my honour. But premeditated insult, contempt for the misfortunes of my family, is beyond all bearing. What pleasure could a man of his high station find in wounding my feelings?"
"His wrath always manifests itself in that way," Fronsberg informed him; "the more cool and collected he appears outwardly, the more fiercely he burns within. It was his idea alone to send you to Tübingen, partly because he knew of no one else who was so well acquainted with the place, partly because he wished to repair the injustice he had done you. But you have affronted him by your refusal, and lowered him in the eyes of the council of war."
"How!" cried Albert, "Truchses himself proposed me? I thought it was your doing."
"No," answered the General, with a significant smile; "no, I did all I could to prevent it; but to no purpose, for I could not tell him the real state of the case. I knew, before you came before us, that you would decline accepting the office. But do not open your eyes so wide, as if you would pierce through one's leather jacket, and look into my heart. I know enough of the history of my young hot-brain!"
Albert felt confused. "Were not my reasons satisfactory?" said he: "is there any thing more you wish to know, and which you may think mysterious?"
"There is nothing exactly mysterious; but you should have decided upon your line of action beforehand, for if you do not wish to be noticed, you ought not to conduct yourself at balls as if you were afflicted with St. Vitus' dance, nor visit a couple of pretty girls at three o'clock in the afternoon. Yes, yes, my son, I know many things," he added, whilst he good-naturedly threatened with his finger: "I know also that that impetuous heart of yours beats for Würtemberg."
Albert blushed; and would gladly have avoided the piercing look of the knight. "Beats for Würtemberg?" he replied: "you do me wrong; you cannot call that going over to the enemy; upon my honour, I swear----"
"Do not swear," Fronsberg quickly interrupted him: "an oath is an easy thing to take, but not so easy to be absolved from; it is like an oppressive chain which we cannot shake off. I am convinced your honour will not suffer by your actions. Instead of an oath, you must promise one thing to the League, namely, not to draw your sword against us for the next fourteen days; and on these conditions only will you be released from arrest."
"I see you still entertain a false opinion of me," said Albert, agitated: "I could not have thought it! how unnecessary is that promise! To whom else should I offer my services? The Swiss have withdrawn their aid from the Duke, the peasantry have dispersed, the knights guard the fortresses, and will take care not to let the army of the League within their walls; the Duke himself has fled----"
"Fled!" cried Fronsberg: "that's not quite so certain;--where did you hear this? Have you been tampering with any of the members of the council of war? or is it true, as some maintain, that you carry on a suspicious correspondence with Würtemberg?"
"Who dares assert that?" cried Albert.
The piercing eye of Fronsberg darted a searching look at Albert. "You are too young, and I believe too honourable, to be guilty of such a villanous deed," said he; "and should you even have had such an intention, we know you would have scarcely quitted the League, but have remained among us as Würtemberg's spy. This clears you in my mind. Appearances, however, are against you."
"Am I then so evil spoken against? If you have a particle of regard for me, tell me who is the wretch that has thus calumniated me," said Albert, starting up in anger.
"Do not be so violent," replied Fronsberg. "Do you suppose, that if George von Fronsberg had heard such things spoken of in public, or believed the report, he would have come to visit you? But there must be some foundation for the report. A suspicious-looking countryman often came to old Lichtenstein in the town; he was not at first particularly noticed among the many assembled here. But it was hinted to us, that this man, a cunning, crafty fellow, was a confidential messenger from Würtemberg. Lichtenstein took his departure; and the countryman and his mysterious occupation were forgotten. He appeared, however, again this morning, and had a long conversation with you outside the town; and was seen afterwards in your house. Now what is the meaning of this?"
Albert heard his friend with increasing astonishment. "As true as God lives," said he, when Fronsberg had finished, "I am innocent. A countryman came to me this morning----" Albert was silent.
"Well, why are you silent all at once?" asked Fronsberg; "you colour up to the eyes: what have you to do with this messenger?"
"Ah! I feel ashamed of myself; but you have already guessed every thing; he only brought me a--a few words from----, my love." The young man then opened his waistcoat, and produced the strip of parchment which he had concealed on his person. "There; this is all he brought to me," said Albert, as he gave it to Fronsberg.
"And is that really all," laughed Fronsberg, after reading the contents: "poor young fellow! and you know nothing more of that man? Do you not know who he is?"
"No; he is nothing more to my knowledge than our messenger of love--I am certain of it!"
"A pretty love messenger, who at the same time pries into our affairs! Are you not aware that that dangerous man is the fifer of Hardt?"
"The fifer of Hardt?" asked Albert: "this is the first time I have heard that name; what does it mean?"
"Nobody knows exactly; but he was one of the most formidable leaders in the insurrection of Poor Conrad, for which he, however, afterwards obtained pardon; since that time he leads a restless, roving life, and is now a spy of the Duke of Würtemberg."
"Is he arrested?" inquired Albert, for he involuntarily felt a warm interest in his new servant.
"No; it is just that which is so incomprehensible; whatever notice we may have of his being in Ulm, though communicated in the quietest manner possible, becomes known to him immediately; for example, when we heard of his being in your stable, and sent secretly to arrest him, he was not to be found. But I trust to your honour that he comes to you on no other business. You may be assured of this, however, if it be the same man I mean, he does not visit Ulm for your sake alone. Should you ever meet him again, be guarded how you trust such a vagabond. But the watchman now calls ten o'clock. Lay down again, and dream away your confinement. But before I go, give me your word about the fourteen days; and, I can tell you, if you leave Ulm without saying farewell to old Fronsberg----"
"I will not fail to do so!" cried Albert, touched by the pain which he perceived his revered friend felt at parting, and which he tried to smother under a smile. He gave him his hand as a pledge of his promise, according to the desire of the council of war, upon which the knight left the room, with long measured steps.
"Could I but once that face so dearBehold before we sever;And once again those accents hear,Before we part for ever."C. Grüneisen.
"Could I but once that face so dear
Behold before we sever;
And once again those accents hear,
Before we part for ever."
C. Grüneisen.
On the following day a horseman, oppressed by the heat of the mid-day sun, was bending his way over that part of the Swabian Alb which leads towards Franconia. He was young, more slim than strong built, and rode a large brown horse; he was well armed with cuirass, dagger, and sword; some parts of his defensive apparel, such as his helmet, and steel plates to cover his limbs, hung to his saddle. The striped light blue and white scarf, which passed across his breast over the right shoulder (the distinguishing prerogative of high rank in those days), shewed the young man to be of noble birth.
He had reached the summit of a hill, which afforded a view into the valley below, and stopping his horse, he turned on one side to enjoy the beautiful prospect. Before him lay an extended plain, bounded on each side by wooded heights, through which flowed the green waters of the Danube; on his right the chain of hills of the Würtemberg Alb; on his left the distant snow-capped Tyrolean Alps. The blue vault of heaven encircled the scene, and its soft colouring brought out in strong relief the dark walls of Ulm, its massive spire, and the whole extent of the town, which lay at the foot of the mountain.
Noon was announced at this moment by the tolling of the bells of the cathedral; their solemn tones resounded throughout the town and its extended plain, until they were lost among the distant mountains.
"The same sounds accompany my departure which greeted my arrival," thought the young man: "but how different did I interpret their brazen voices, when for the first time they reached my ear, and guided me to my love; and now that I depart disconsolate, and without object, the same tones follow me! They celebrated the birth of my hope, and now ring its knell. It is the picture of life!" he added, as he took a last farewell of the town in the valley beneath, and turned his horse away: "it is, indeed, the picture of life! These same sounds float over cradle and coffin; and the bells of the chapel of my house which rang a merry peal at my baptism, will also accompany the last of the Sturmfeders to the grave."
The mountain now became steeper; and Albert, whom the reader will have recognised as the young cavalier, allowed his horse to have his own way. Upon quitting Ulm, he had determined to return to his home in Franconia, and there wait events, or at any rate the expiration of the fourteen days' truce he had promised his friend Fronsberg. His heart naturally would lead him to Lichtenstein, the contrary way to the path he was now pursuing; yet he felt he had chosen the one most honourable to his engagements. The balance, however, between the two was very equally poised, and had he had a friend to decide for him and convince him that he was now a free agent to travel whither he pleased, provided he took no part in the contest for fourteen days, he felt that the bent of his inclinations would turn the scale in favour of the neighbourhood of his love. The comparison between his present situation and the former position which he had held only a few days back, did not tend to cheer his spirits. Sudden changes--violent emotions--his confinement on the day before--and, above all, the pain of taking leave of men who had his welfare at heart, produced recollections which almost unmanned him.
Dieterick von Kraft, above all, bewailed his departure. From the first moment of their acquaintance in the room of the town hall when they pledged each other in a bumper, to the last hour when they bid adieu in a parting cup, that excellent friend had manifested the same uninterrupted good feeling towards him. And how had he requited his kindness? Occupied solely with self, he had but partially expressed his sense of obligation to him; and to the honest, straightforward Breitenstein, who, as well as Fronsberg, had held him up as their favourite in the army, what return had he made? Truly there is nothing more painful to a noble mind than the thought of being ungrateful where its object is to be esteemed.
Full of these gloomy thoughts, he proceeded some distance on his journey. Feeling the rays of the March sun oppressive, and the mountain path becoming more rugged, he determined to repose himself and horse under the shade of an oak tree. He dismounted, loosened the girths of his saddle, and let his weary beast make the most of the stunted grass in the neighbourhood. He stretched himself under the tree, and though his fatiguing ride and the cool shade invited him to rest, still the unquiet state of the country, so near the theatre of war, the care of his horse and of his weapons, kept him awake until he at last sank into that state between watching and sleep, which the body combats in vain.
V He might have been about half an hour in this situation, when the neighing of his horse roused him; he looked about, and perceived a man with his back towards him, occupying himself with the beast. His first thought was, that taking advantage of his carelessness, the man intended to make away with his steed; he sprang upon his legs, drew his sword, and in a trice was by his side. "Stop, villain! what have you to do with that horse?" he cried, at the same time taking him by the collar rather roughly.
"Have you already discharged me from your service, sir?" said the man, whom Albert immediately recognised as the messenger Bertha had sent to him. The young man was undecided what line of conduct to pursue; for Fronsberg's warning made him distrustful of the man, whilst Bertha's confidence in him recommended him. The countryman continued his conversation, showing him at the same time a handful of hay; "I guessed you would not have provided fodder for your journey; and as there is not much grass to be picked up on the mountains, I brought an armful with me for the brown horse." So spoke the peasant, and continued feeding the beast.
"And where do you now come from?" asked Albert, having recovered from his astonishment.
"Why, you rode away from Ulm in such haste, I was not able to follow you immediately," he answered.
"Don't tell me a falsehood," said the young man, "otherwise I cannot trust you any more. You do not come from that town at present."
"Well, I suppose you will not be angry, if I was a little earlier than you on the road?" said the countryman, and turned away; but the cunning smile on his countenance did not escape Albert.
"Let my horse alone," said Albert, impatiently. "Come, sit down with me under that oak, and tell me, without hesitation, why you left the town so suddenly yesterday evening?"
"It was not with the Ulmers' good will; for they even wanted to induce me to remain longer with them, and to give me board and lodging gratis," replied the man.
"Yes, they would have put you in the lowest cell of the prison, where you would have seen neither sun nor moon, the place appropriated to spies and such like gentry."
"Excuse me, sir," replied the messenger, "though I might have been somewhat lower, we should both have been under the same roof."
"Dog of a spy!" cried Albert, with anger burning on his cheek; "would you place my father's son in the same rank with the fifer of Hardt?"
"What is that you say?" replied the other with menacing tone; "what name is that you mentioned? do you know the fifer of Hardt?" At these words he grasped his axe, though perhaps involuntarily. His compact, broad-chested figure, spite of his low stature, gave him the appearance of an adversary not to be despised: and many a man, single handed, would have been staggered at his determined countenance and fierce eye.
But the young man leaped up, threw back his long hair, and met the dark look of his companion with one full of pride and dignity; he seized his sword, and said calmly, "What do you mean by placing yourself in that threatening position? If I do not mistake, you are the man I mentioned, the mover and leader of those rebellious hounds; away with you or I will show you how such outcasts ought to be treated!"
The countryman struggled with rage; he threw His axe with a powerful swing into the tree, and stood unarmed before Albert. "Allow me," said he, "to give you another piece of advice, namely, never to let your adversary stand between you and your horse, for if I had taken immediate advantage of your order to take myself off, I should have had by far the best of it."
A look at his horse proved the truth of what the man said, and Albert blushed for his inexperience. He quitted the grasp of his sword, and, without replying, seated himself again on the ground. The countryman followed his example, but at a respectable distance, and said, "You are perfectly justified in being suspicious of me, Albert von Sturmfeder; but if you knew the pain that the name you have just mentioned gives me, you would pardon my violent conduct. Yes, I am he who goes by that name; but I have an abhorrence to be called by it: my friends call me Hans--my enemies the fifer of Hardt, which they know I so much detest."
"What has that name to do with you?" asked Albert; "why are you called by it? and why do you dislike it?"
"Why do people call me so?" answered the other: "I came from a village of the name of Hardt; it lies in the low country, not far from Nürtingen. I follow the profession of music, and play at fairs and wakes, and when young people want to dance. For this reason I go by the appellation of the fifer of Hardt; but as this name was stained with crime and blood in an evil moment, I have dropped it, and cannot bear the sound of it any longer."
Albert measured him with a searching look, and said, "I know very well the evil moment to which you allude: when you peasants rebelled against your Duke, you were one of the worst among them. Is it not true?"
"I see you are acquainted with the history of an unfortunate man," said the countryman, with penitent downcast looks: "but you must not believe that I am still the same person; the Holy One saved me and changed my way of thinking, so that I may now say, I am an honest man."
"Oh! tell me," interrupted Albert, "what was the cause of the insurrection? How were you saved? and how is it that you now serve the Duke?"
"I will spare you this information for a more fitting occasion," he replied, "for I trust this will not be the last time we meet; allow me to ask you instead, where does this road lead to? It does not lead to Lichtenstein!"
"I am not going there," said Albert, dejected; "this way leads to Franconia, to my old uncle; you can tell the lady my plans, when you go to Lichtenstein."
"And what are you going to do at your old uncle's? To hunt? you can do so elsewhere; or perhaps to kill time? you can do that cheap enough all over the world. Take my advice in a few words," he added, with a good-humoured smile; "turn your horse's head the other way, and take a ride with me for a couple of days about Würtemberg. I know the country well enough to keep you out of harm's way, and though war is declared, the roads are tolerably safe yet."
The fifer gave him this assurance, in order to encourage him to bend his steps towards Lichtenstein, which he knew would gratify the wishes of the lady who had entrusted him with her message of love. He was fully aware of the possibility there was of falling in with the patroles of the League, which were scattered over the country; but he had, at the same time, sufficient confidence in his knowledge of the unfrequented paths among the mountains, to be able to escape their vigilance.
"I have given the League my word, not to serve against it for fourteen days; how can I remain, therefore, in Würtemberg?"
"Do you call that fighting for Würtemberg, if you only travel peaceably on the roads? In fourteen days, did you say? Do they think the war will be over in fourteen days? Many a head will be broken against the walls of Tübingen long after that time. Come with me; it is not against your oath."
"And what shall I do in Würtemberg?" cried Albert: "shall I go and see my old companions in arms reaping glory under the walls of the fortresses? shall I go and meet the colours of the League again, to which I have bid an eternal farewell? No; I will return to my home in Franconia, and bury myself among its walls, and dream how happy I might have been."
"That is a fine determination for a young man of your spirit and determination? Have you no other interest in Würtemberg than to wish to storm the tottering castles of the Duke? Well, go, in God's name!" continued the countryman, looking at Albert with a cunning smile; "but just try for once whether the ancient castle of Lichtenstein may not be taken by storm?"
The young man blushed deeply; and said, half angrily, half smiling, "I don't like your joke."
"I had no intention to joke with my young master," answered his companion; "I am serious when I wish to persuade you to go there."
"And what to do?"
"Why, to win over the old gentleman, to be sure, and dry the tears of the young lady, who weeps day and night on your account."
"But how can I go to Lichtenstein? Bertha's father does not know me; how shall I make his acquaintance?"
"Are you the first knight who has ever demanded free quarters in a castle, according to the custom of our forefathers? If you will leave that to me, I will promise to satisfy your scruples."
The young man pondered over his friend's proposal for some time; he carefully weighed all the reasons for and against it; he considered whether it was not against his honour, to be in the neighbourhood where the war would in all probability be carried on, instead of retiring from the theatre of it. But when he reflected upon the mild manner in which the commanders of the League had received his retreat from their cause, and the easy conditions which they had laid on him; but above all, when he called to his memory the unhappy position of his beloved Bertha, his inclination to proceed to Würtemberg turned the scale.
"I will see and speak with her once more," thought he to himself.----"Well, then," he called to the countryman, "if you will promise never to say a word to me about joining the Würtemberg cause, and assure me that I shall not be looked upon as a partizan of your Duke, but merely a guest of Lichtenstein, I will follow you."
"As far as lies in me, I can safely promise you," said his companion; "but it is impossible for me to answer for what the knight of Lichtenstein might propose. He is the Duke's warmest friend, and it is not unlikely he may endeavour to persuade you to join his cause."
"I already know the terms you are upon with him, that you often visited him in Ulm, and brought him secret intelligence of all kinds. He has confidence in you, and therefore I wish to put you on your guard, not to acquaint him with the state of my affairs; for I have my reasons to keep them as yet unknown to him."
The fifer of Hardt eyed the young man some time with a look of astonishment. "Where did you learn that I had been the bearer of secret intelligence to the knight of Lichtenstein? But it signifies little to me what my persecutors may have told you. I have a debt to pay, and until it is fully discharged, I call not my life my own. My death, I hope, will absolve me from my creditor." With these portending words, he promised to follow Albert's wishes to the letter, and added, "Now mount your horse, whilst I lead on, and you shall be welcome in the castle of Lichtenstein."
The herdsman says, "If you will trust in meAnd follow boldly, I will bring you free;--A secret path there is, to man unknown,And trodden by the mountain goat alone."L. Uhland.
The herdsman says, "If you will trust in me
And follow boldly, I will bring you free;--
A secret path there is, to man unknown,
And trodden by the mountain goat alone."
L. Uhland.
There were two ways from the spot where Albert had decided upon following his mysterious guide, leading to the neighbourhood of Reutlingen, in which the castle of Lichtenstein was situated. One was the high road from Ulm to Tübingen. It went through the beautiful Blauthal, or blue valley; when, reaching the town of Blaubeuren, at the foot of the Alb, it crossed immediately over that mountain, passing the fortress of Hohen Urach, near the villages of St. John and Pfullingen. This was the usual and most convenient road for travellers on horseback, in litters, or carriages; but at the time of our story, when Albert and the fifer of Hardt had to cross the country, it was not advisable to choose this route. The troops of the League already occupied Blaubeuren, their advanced posts stretched as far as Urach, and any one whom they found on the road, that did not belong to the army, or acknowledge their party, were rudely handled and otherwise ill-treated. Albert, therefore, had good reason to avoid this road; and his companion was too mindful of his own safety to dissuade him from it.
The other, a mere footpath, and known only to the inhabitants of the country, passed through thick woods, and deep ravines, where but a few single detached houses were to be met with, scattered over a distance of twelve hours (stunden), or between thirty to forty miles. Here and there the track made a circuit to avoid the high road, and for this reason possessed the greater advantage of security. It was very fatiguing, and, indeed, in many places scarcely passable for horses.
The fifer of Hardt chose this route, which his young master joyfully acceded to, as being the least likely to fall in with the League's troops. They set forward accordingly, the countryman walking on Albert's side: in the difficult parts of the path, he carefully led the horse by the bridle, and showed so much attention generally, for both man and horse, that Albert by degrees began to lose sight of Fronsberg's warning, and to look upon his companion as a trustworthy servant.
They conversed upon different subjects, when the peasant reasoned and argued in so clear-sighted a manner, upon many things which in general do not come within the compass of a common countryman's mind, that his master could not at times control an involuntary smile. He had stories to relate of every tower and castle they saw in the distance, through the break of the forest; and the clearness and liveliness with which he described them, proved that he had been present as musician at many a marriage feast and village dance; but as often as Albert endeavoured to turn the conversation to the subject of his own life, and particularly to that period when the fifer of Hardt played so prominent a part in the insurrection of Poor Conrad, he either cut it short or turned it to some other channel, with a facility which bespoke a man of discernment.
In this way they proceeded on their journey, without stopping, except to refresh man and beast. Hans was well acquainted with the places where they would find accommodation. He was known everywhere, and received in a friendly manner, though, as it appeared to Albert, his appearance excited astonishment at times. He generally had a quarter of an hour's whisper with the host, during the time that the bustling hostess would wait on the young knight with bread, butter, and pure home-made cider; whilst the little boys and girls were lost in admiration at the tall figure of the guest, with his fine clothes, his brilliant scarf, and the waving plumes of his cap. After the frugal meal was finished, the whole family accompanied the travellers to the door; but, strange to say, the young cavalier could never induce the good people, upon any account, to accept a remuneration for their hospitality. When he asked his conductor to solve this riddle, his answer, "that when they visit Hardt, they always come to my house," appeared a mere parry to the question.
They passed the night in one of those solitary houses, where the hostess, with equal readiness, prepared a bed for her distinguished guest, and sacrificed, in honour of him, a couple of pigeons for his supper, served up with a dish of oatmeal.
They pursued their journey the following day in the same manner, excepting that it struck Albert, his leader appeared more cautious than on the day before: for, when they came within five hundred paces of a dwelling, he bid his master stop, whilst he approached it warily; and not till after he was perfectly satisfied that all was right, did he make him a sign to follow. In vain did Albert question him, whether the road was now more dangerous, or whether the troops of the League were in the neighbourhood? He could not elicit a direct answer.
Towards noon, as the country became more open, and the path descended into the plain, their route consequently was attended with more danger. The musician of Hardt, thinking it no longer prudent to approach any habitation, had provided himself at the last place with a sack of fodder for the horse, and a sufficient supply of provisions for his master and himself; he sought the most unfrequented paths, and it appeared to Albert that they did not follow the first direction, but had turned sharp to the right.
They halted on the skirt of a shady beechwood, by the side of a clear stream with fresh grass on its banks, which invited them to repose. Albert dismounted, whilst his provident guide produced the contents of his wallet, and set before him a good dinner. After he had looked to the horse, he placed himself at the feet of the young knight, and set to eating, with a hearty appetite.
Albert having satisfied his hunger, surveyed the neighbourhood with an attentive eye. He looked down upon a beautiful broad valley, at the bottom of which flowed a small rapid rivulet; the surrounding fields, with inclosed orchards here and there, appeared in high state of cultivation, a cheerful village reared its head on a hill at the further end of the valley, and the whole country was of a more pleasing description than that over which they had passed on the crest of the mountain.
"We have now quitted the district of the Alb, it seems," said the young man, as he turned to his companion; "this valley and those hills greet the eye with much more cheerful effect than the rugged rocks and deserted meadows we traversed yesterday. The air also feels milder and warmer here than higher up on the hills, where the wind was so piercing."
"You have spoken rightly, sir," said Hans, as he carefully put the remains of their meal into the wallet; "these vallies form part of the lowland, and that rivulet which you see yonder flows into the Neckar."
"But how comes it that we have gone so much out of the way?" Albert asked. "I noticed that circumstance when we were on the mountain, but you would not listen to me then. As far as I know about the situation of Lichtenstein, this road will take us much too far to the right."
"Well, now I'll tell you the reason," answered the countryman, "why we have made this circuit. I did not wish to create an unnecessary anxiety in your mind when we were on the Alb, but at present, with God's will, we are in safety; for, let the worst come to the worst, we are scarcely four hours distant from Hardt, where no harm can happen to us."
"In safety," Albert interrupted him in astonishment, "what have we to fear?"
"The Leaguists, to be sure," replied the musician; "their cavalry overrun the Alb, and some of them were not a thousand paces from us at times. For my part, I would not like to fall into their hands, for, as you well know, they bear me no good will; and perhaps it would not be quite so pleasant for you to be brought prisoner before old Truchses."
"God defend me from Truchses!" cried Albert. "I would rather allow myself to be shot on the spot than undergo such disgrace. But what are they doing here? There is no fortress of Würtemberg in this neighbourhood, and yet you say they scour the country hereabouts; what is their object?"
"Look ye, sir! Wicked men are to be found everywhere; a true Würtemberger would rather let himself be flayed alive than betray the Duke, after whom the League is now on the search. But Truchses has secretly offered a bribe of a heap of gold to any one who takes him; and for this purpose has sent his cavalry out all over the country; the report is, that many peasants, instigated by money, willingly assist these bloodhounds in searching all the caverns and holes of the rocks after their prey."
"Searching after the Duke? I thought he had already fled the country, or, as others say, has shut himself up in Tübingen with forty knights!"
"Yes, the forty nobles are there, true enough," answered the countryman, with a knowing look; "the Duke's young son, Christoph, is also with them; that's as it should be; but where the Duke himself is, no one can tell. Between you and I, sir, knowing him as well as I do, nothing but dire necessity will compel him to seek shelter in a fortress; he is a bold restless man, and prefers the freedom of woods and mountains to other resources, even if there is danger attending it."
"So they are searching after him? is it possible he can be in this neighbourhood?"
"Where he is at present, I know not," answered the fifer of Hardt; "and I would bet that no one but God alone knows; but where he will be," he added, and appeared to Albert as if he were inspired with the idea, "I know where he will be should fate push him to extremities; I know the spot where his faithful friends will find him in case of need, where many a true breast will be assembled and form a wall of defence to protect their lord against his enemies. For though he may be a severe master, he is still a Würtemberger, and his heavy hand is dearer to us than the slippery words of Bavaria or Austria."
"And should they happen to fall in with the unfortunate prince, would they be able to recognise him? Has he not disguised his person? You described his appearance to me once, particularly his brilliant commanding eye, so that I almost fancy I see him now before me? Can you describe his figure to me?"
"As I told you then, he may be eight years older than you," replied the other; "not quite so tall, but your figures resemble each other so much, particularly when you are on horseback, that when I look at you from behind, I say to myself, 'there goes the Duke himself.'"
Albert got up to look after his horse; the conversation of the countryman had made him anxious for his own safety; and he now thought, for the first time, that he had acted foolishly in stealing about the country occupied by an enemy. It would have been particularly unpleasant to be taken prisoner at this moment; for though there was certainly nothing against his oath in travelling as he did, provided he took no active part against the League: still he felt the disadvantageous light into which he would be thrown were he found in this neighbourhood, and in company with a man of whom the officers of the League were suspicious, and indeed were afraid of. To retrace his steps would, he thought, be imprudent, as it was almost certain the road would be occupied by the enemy's patroles; the safest way, therefore, appeared to be to hurry on as fast as possible, and get beyond reach of their advanced posts.
Albert, to his great dismay, when he came to examine his horse, found him somewhat lame.
His companion remarked the distress of the young man. After having looked at his feet, he thought the beast only wanted rest, and therefore proposed remaining in their present situation for some time longer, and travel part of the night; for, to Albert's consolation, he assured him he was sufficiently acquainted with their route to find it in the dark.
Sent by the Suabian League,The hunters do not tarry;But range the plain, and seekTo strike a princely quarry.G. Schwab.
Sent by the Suabian League,
The hunters do not tarry;
But range the plain, and seek
To strike a princely quarry.
G. Schwab.
The youth resigned himself to his fate, and sought to dissipate time in the enjoyment of the beautiful prospect which, in proportion as the countryman led him higher up from the place where they had made their mid-day meal, presented itself to his view on a much more extended scale. They stood upon the crest of a rock commanding a large circuit of the Swabian Alb. An extended panorama spread itself before the spectators, to Albert's delight, who was so enraptured with the diversified colouring which the evening gradually threw over the whole, that he was for a time lost in ecstasy. And, in truth, whoever possesses a mind sufficiently pure for the enjoyment of the beauties of nature as existing in the peaceful landscape, the quiet valley, and lonely dell, such as are to be found in the Rhinegau, let him but mount the Swabian Alb, and he will be gratified by the sight of scenery which he will long cherish as among the most charming images in his remembrance. A range of mountains, so distant as scarcely to be reached by the eye, skirted the horizon, graduated with soft grey tints and different shades of blue, whilst a foreground of dark green hills completed the picture. On the summit of the extended ridge innumerable castles and towers were conspicuous, placed like watchmen as it were on these heights to overlook the country. Their remains are now in ruins, their stately gates and approaches no longer exist, the moats are filled with rubbish and overgrown with moss, and their halls, once the scenes of jovial mirth, now tell their tale in mournful silence. At the moment, however, when Albert and his companion stood on the rock of Beuren, many of them were to be seen in all the pride of solid and substantial defence, ranging themselves in array like an unbroken band of powerful men.
"This Würtemberg is a beautiful country," cried Albert, his eye wandering from hill to hill; "how bold, how sublime the summit and declivities of those mountains, how picturesque those rocks and castles! And when the eye turns to the valley of the Neckar, how truly charming are those soft hills interspersed with orchards and vineyards, and watered by gentle streams and rivulets; the whole being blessed by a mild climate and a good race of people!"
"Yes, indeed," said the countryman, "this is a fine country; but it is not to be compared to the neighbourhood of Stuttgardt, the true lowland! There it is a real pleasure to wander about in summer or spring, on the banks of the Neckar; nature is prolific in all her bounties of cultivation; the vine grows to a large size and plentiful on the hills; the boats and rafts on the river float up and down in cheerful activity; the people are gay and happy at their work; and the girls sing like larks!"
"Those vallies, on the Rems and Neckar, may indeed possess their beauties," replied Albert; "but this one at our feet, and those heights about us, possess also a peculiarly peaceful charm: what is the name of that tower on the hill yonder? and tell me how are those distant mountains called?"
The countryman scanned the neighbourhood, and pointed to the most distant ridge of mountains, which, on account of the mist, was scarcely visible. "That, between the east and south, is the Rossberg mountain; in the same direction,' but nearer towards us, those many-pointed rocks which you see are the heights of Urack: more to the westward, is the Achalm; not far from which, but you cannot see it from hence, lies the rock of Lichtenstein."
"There it is," thought Albert to himself, "there, where that small cloud hovers amidst the evening tints; in that direction, a true heart beats for me; at this very moment she, perhaps, stands on the pinnacle of the rock, and looks this way, among that world of mountains. Oh, that the evening breeze might waft her my remembrance, and that rosy cloud acquaint her with my vicinity!"
"You see that sharp corner, further in the distance, that is the castle of Teck; our dukes call themselves Dukes of Teck: it is a strong fortress. Look to the right, that high steep mountain was once the residence of a renowned Emperor; and is called Hohenstaufen."
"But what is the name of that castle, near us, which appears to rear its head out of the deep mist?" asked the young man. "Only observe how the sun plays on its white walls; how the golden mist seems to rest about its battlements; and how beautifully the red light illumines its towers!"
"That is Neuffen, sir; also a strong castle, which the League would be glad to get possession of."
The sun was fast going down during this conversation. The shades of evening threw a dark veil from the mountains over the vallies, and obscured the distant objects. The moon rose pale, and surveyed her nightly province. The high walls and towers of Neuffen only were lighted up by the last rays of the sun; and with its departure, Neuffen was enveloped in darkness; the night air began to whisper through the trees of the surrounding wood mysterious salutations to the rays of the rising moon.
"This is the proper time for robbers and travellers fearful of the light of day, such as we are," said the countryman, as he bridled the horse; "in an hour hence, the night will, I hope, be dark as coal; and then, before the sun rises again, no Leaguist dog of a horseman shall come upon our scent."
"If there is any likelihood of our being attacked," said Albert, "we had better prepare for the worst; for I am resolved not to allow myself to be taken for a mere trifle." And taking his cap off, he was preparing to substitute in its place his helmet, which hung by his saddle.
"You had better keep on your cap, sir," said the countryman, smiling; "it will be warmer in the night breeze than your helmet; they will scarcely look for the Duke in this neighbourhood, and should we meet them, we two are a match for any four of them."
The young man thought he had betrayed a want of courage; and a feeling of shame rose in his breast, when he noticed the unconcern of his conductor, on foot, who had nothing but a thin leathern cap on his head, and armed only with an axe and knife. He mounted his horse, and his guide, taking the bridle, led him down the hill.
"You believe, therefore," asked Albert, after a pause, "that the Leaguist cavalry do not venture thus far?"
"It is not very likely," answered the fifer of Hardt; "because Neuffen is a strong fort, and contains a good garrison; the Leaguists will, however, soon besiege it; but vagabonds, such as Truchses' cavalry, will not venture in small bodies so near an enemy's position."
"Look how clear and beautiful the moon shines!" cried the young man, whose mind, still dwelling on the sight of the mountains they had left, admired the fantastic shades of the wood, and the brilliant shining rocks; "look how the windows in Neuffen glimmer in the moonlight."
"I would much rather she did not shine this night," replied the countryman, who at times looked anxiously about him; "a dark night would have suited us better; the moon has betrayed many a brave man. She now stands directly over the Reissenstein, where a giant once lived; it will not be long, however, before she goes down."
"What is that you say of a giant, who lived on the Reissenstein?"
"Yes," said Hans, "tradition says that many years back a giant lived on that spot; there, just where the moon shines on the mountain, stands his castle, called Reissenstein, or Achalm; it belongs now to the Helfensteiners; it is built on the declivity of the rock, high up in the air; and has no nearer neighbours than the clouds, and the moon. Just opposite the castle, on another eminence, upon which now stands Heimenstein, is a cavern, in which a giant formerly lived. He possessed an enormous treasure of gold, and could have lived nobly and in luxury, had there been other giants and giantesses besides him to keep him company. He was determined to build a castle, such as other knights possessed on the Alb. The rock opposite appeared to him the most convenient spot. He however was a bad architect; he dug out rocks of the height of a house from the Alb, with his nails, and placed them one upon another; but, as they always fell, he found his labour was in vain. He then mounted on the top of the Beuren rock, and cried out in the valley below for workmen; carpenters, masons, stone-cutters, blacksmiths, any one who would come and help him should be well paid. His voice was heard all over Swabia; from Kocher to the lake of Constance; from the Necker to the Danube; the call brought masters and workmen from all parts, who came to assist the giant build his castle.----Keep in the shade here, out of the moonshine, sir," he added, "your armour shines like silver, and could easily be seen by some of those bloodhounds.
"Well, to go on with the giant's history; it was curious to see him sitting in his cavern, in the sunshine, overlooking the progress of the workmen in building his castle on the top of the rock; masters and workmen worked merrily, and had their jokes with the giant, who understood nothing of their art. At last the castle was finished, and the giant took possession of it; when viewing the valley below from the uppermost window, where the master and his men were assembled, he angrily remarked, 'that one nail was wanting in the outside of the building, and that they had deceived him in reporting it complete.' The master blacksmith excused himself, and said: 'no one would venture to perch himself outside the window, to drive the nail in.' The giant would hear of no excuse; and refused to pay the reckoning until the nail was in its place. They all returned again to the castle; the most daring among them swore it was not a feat worth talking of to drive the nail in; but when they came to look out of the window, and beheld the great depth of the valley below, with its perpendicular rocks, they shook their heads, and retired in shame. The master offered a ten-fold reward to him who would venture on the perilous undertaking; but a long time elapsed before one bold enough could be found. There was a smart young fellow among the rest, who loved the master's daughter, and she loved him; but as he was poor and the master a hard man, he could not gain his consent to marry her. Taking courage, and thinking this a good opportunity to be able either to merit his love or to die in the attempt; for life without her was a burden to him: he went to his master, her father, and said, 'Will you give me your daughter if I drive the nail in?' The other thought this a good chance to get rid of him should he fall into the valley, and answered 'Yes.'
"The youth took the nail and hammer, said a prayer, and prepared to get outside the window and drive in the nail for the sake of his beloved. A burst of joy broke from the bystanders, which awoke the giant out of his sleep, when he asked what was the matter; and, when he heard that a volunteer was found to drive the nail in, he looked at the young locksmith for some time, and said: 'You are a fine fellow, and have more courage than all your milk-hearted companions; come, and I'll assist you.' He then took him by the nape of the neck, almost crushing him to atoms, lifted him out of the window in the air, and said, 'drive in, now--you shall not fall.'
"When the young lover was suspended in the air over the immense depth below, though held by the iron grasp of the giant's hand, fear came over him, his sight became dim, giddiness seized his brain, and, thinking he was on the point of being hurled into the abyss beneath, he would have cried out 'Ach Allmächtig!' (Oh, Almighty!) but had only time enough to pronounce, 'Ach Allm,' when the giant secured him from his perilous situation, and landed him again in safety. From that moment the mountain has retained the name of the Achalm.
"The lad drove the nail in firmly,--the giant kissed him for his fortitude,--and a tender hug which he gave him almost cost him his life,--he then led him to the master, and said: 'Give your daughter to the brave lad.' He afterwards went to his cavern, took out his money bag, and paid each his due. But when he came to the bold young blacksmith, he said, 'Go home, my daring young fellow, fetch your master's daughter, and take possession of the castle, for it belongs to you now.'
"His companions all rejoiced at his good fortune; the young blacksmith went home, and----"
"Hark! did not you hear the neighing of horses?" said Albert, not feeling quite at his ease, as they were passing through a deep ravine. The moon still shone bright, the shadows of the trees waved with the breeze, there was a rustling among the bushes, and he often fancied he saw dark figures passing in the wood.
The fifer of Hardt stopt, vexed that his companion had interrupted him in his story, and answered, "I thought so, likewise, just now, but it is nothing but the noise of the wind among the trees. If we were but on the other side of the meadow, which is open and as clear as day, we should regain the wood, and be free from all anxiety, for there it is dark enough. Give your horse the spur, and trot on; I'll run by your side."
"But why do you want to get on faster now? do you think there is anything to be apprehended? Own it, did you not see some figures in the wood sneaking along not far from us? Do you think they belong to the League?"
"Well, yes," whispered the countryman, looking round, "it struck me as if some one was watching us; hurry on, therefore, and let's get out of this cursed hollow path: a good round trot across the valley will carry us clear of danger, and then we may bid defiance to it."
Albert looked to his sword, and held the reins firmer in his hand. They descended in silence the gorge through which the path led, and, by the light of the moon, he could perceive each motion of his guide, and saw him raise his axe to his shoulder, and, taking out a knife, which he had concealed under his jacket, stick it into his girdle.
Just as they were entering the open valley from the hollow way, a voice was heard in the bush: "That's the fifer of Hardt--seize him! he on the horse must be the right one."
"Fly, sir, fly," cried the faithful guide, and placed himself in a position of defence with his axe. Albert drew his sword, and, in a moment, was attacked by five men, whilst his companion was engaged with three others hand to hand.
The confined spot where this rencontre took place prevented Albert profiting by the advantage he otherwise would have had over his opponents. One of them seized his bridle, but, in the same moment, Albert's blade fell with such force on his head that he sank to the ground without a groan; the others, furious at the loss of their companion, pressed him with increased vigour, calling out to him to surrender; but, though Albert began to bleed copiously from many wounds he had already received in his arms and legs, he answered only by fresh blows.
"Dead or alive," cried one of the combatants, "if the Duke will have it so, let him take the consequences!" and with these words a heavy blow on the head, brought Albert von Sturmfeder from his horse to the ground. His eyes closed in a state of fainting stupor, but he still was sufficiently conscious, to feel himself raised and carried away, amidst the sarcastic jeers of his opponents, who appeared to triumph and rejoice over their royal captive, as they supposed him to be.
He was placed on the ground shortly after, when a horseman galloped up, dismounted, and spoke to the men who carried him. Albert, having somewhat recovered from the violence of the stunning blow he had received, opened his eyes and surveyed the surrounding group. An unknown figure bent over him, as if to examine his features. "Who have we here?" said this man: "this is not him we are looking for--leave him to his fate; we must hurry away without loss of time--alarm is already spread in Neuffen, and the garrison is on the alert." Falling again into a state of stupor from excessive weakness, Albert closed his eyes a second time, his ear only was alive to the confused sound of indistinct voices, which soon were hushed into dead silence, and he was left alone. The damp ground of the meadow chilled his limbs, but a sweet slumber coming to his aid, he sank under it, his beloved Bertha occupying his last thought.