May joy attend the wedded pair,And bliss increasing be their share!Accept this gift from Stuttgardt's town,And length of days your union crown.'Tis generous wine that cheers the soul,So come, my comrade, fill the bowl.
May joy attend the wedded pair,
And bliss increasing be their share!
Accept this gift from Stuttgardt's town,
And length of days your union crown.
'Tis generous wine that cheers the soul,
So come, my comrade, fill the bowl.
The other burgher then filled the goblet with wine from the jug he carried, and whilst his companion drank it out, pronounced:
A cask full stands before your door,The best of Stuttgardt's wine in store;And force of body, strength of soul,Lie deep within the brimful bowl:Then drain the cup and find them there,So Stuttgard has obtained her prayer.
A cask full stands before your door,
The best of Stuttgardt's wine in store;
And force of body, strength of soul,
Lie deep within the brimful bowl:
Then drain the cup and find them there,
So Stuttgard has obtained her prayer.
Having finished his draught, and replenished the goblet, he repeated the following lines:
Be this your toast when you carouse,"Long live the Duke and all his house."Drain to the dregs, then, fill the wine,"To Sturmfeder and Lichtenstein;"And may we hope that, as you drink,You will on Stuttgardt's burghers think.
Be this your toast when you carouse,
"Long live the Duke and all his house."
Drain to the dregs, then, fill the wine,
"To Sturmfeder and Lichtenstein;"
And may we hope that, as you drink,
You will on Stuttgardt's burghers think.
Albert gave the men both his hands and thanked them for their acceptable presents; Bertha saluted their wives, and the Duke also received them graciously. They laid the silver jug and the goblet in the basket along with the other gifts, retiring respectfully and with solemn step out of the hall. But the burghers were not the only ones to tender their congratulations and manifest their regard for the Duke, in this marked attention to his favourite. Scarcely had they taken their departure, when a disturbance was observed at the door where the lansquenet were on guard, which attracted the notice of the Ulerich. Men's voices were heard swearing and ordering the crowd to obedience to their commands, among which were mingled the voices of women, and one in particular the loudest and most violent was recognized by some of the company at the upper end of the table.
"I declare that is the voice of our Rosel," whispered old Lichtenstein to his son-in-law: "what can her business be about?"
The Duke despatched one of his pages to find out the cause of the noise, and received for answer that some countrywomen were trying to force their way into the hall to present their gifts to the new married couple in spite of the lansquenet, who would not permit them to enter, only because they were common people. Ulerich gave orders immediately to admit them, for, having been pleased with the conduct of the burghers, he promised himself some amusement from the peasants. The attendants having made room for them to pass, Albert, to his astonishment, recognized the wife of the fifer of Hardt, and her pretty daughter, led by her cousin, Mrs. Rosel.
When he was passing from the castle to the church, he thought he recognised the lovely features of the girl of Hardt among the crowd; but more important considerations having engrossed his whole attention, this fleeting apparition was obliterated from his mind. He acquainted the company who the women were, and to whom they belonged. The girl excited great interest, from her being the child of that man whose marvellous actions in the service of the Duke had often been a subject of mystery, and whose fidelity and assistance in time of need contributed essentially to Ulerich's return to his country. The girl had the fair hair, the open forehead, and much the same features of her parent; but the sharp cunning eye, the bold and powerful bearing of the father, were softened into a playful kindliness and natural gaiety which shed a charm around the retiring modesty of his child. As such Albert had known her, when he was in the fifer of Hardt's house, but she now appeared disconcerted before so many persons of rank; it struck him also that her countenance betrayed dejection and sorrow, feelings he had not discovered before on her beautiful features.
Her mother, knowing what good manners were, courtesied all the way up from the entrance door till she arrived at the Duke's chair. The blush of anger still rested upon the wan cheeks of Mrs. Rosel, who felt herself highly aggrieved and insulted by the lansquenet, namely by the Magdeburger and Casper Staberl, who had called her an old withered stick. Before she could compose herself, and present the family of her brother in respectful form to her master, the fifer's wife had already taken the hem of the Duke's mantle and pressed it to her lips. "Good day, my Lord Duke," she said, with deep reverence, "how are you since you have been in Stuttgardt? my husband sends you his compliments. But we don't come to the Duke, no, it is to the knight there," she added, as if recollecting herself, pointing to Albert; "we have brought a wedding present for his wife. There she sits, Barbelle, as large as life."
Mrs. Rosel, confounded at the unceremonious conduct of her sister-in-law before such an august audience, checked her loquacity by saying, "I most humbly beg pardon of your grace, for having brought these people here,--they are the wife and daughter of the fifer of Hardt; pray do not take it ill, your highness, the woman means well, I assure you."
The Duke was more amused with the excuses of Mrs. Rosel than with the blunt language of her sister. "How is your husband?" said he to the countrywoman, "will he visit us soon? why did he not come with you?"
"He has his reasons, sir," she replied; "if war breaks out, he'll certainly not stay at home, for then he may be of some use; but in peaceable times, why he thinks it is not becoming to eat cherries with great folks."
The naïveté of the plump matron almost drove Mrs. Rosel to desperation: she pulled her by the petticoat, and by the long tails of hair, but to no purpose. The wife of the fifer went on talking, to the great amusement of the Duke and his guests, whose irresistible laughter, which her answers elicited, appeared only to increase her happiness and good humour. Barbelle in the meantime, playing with the handle of a little basket she held in her hand, scarcely ventured occasionally to raise her eyes to look at that face which she had beheld with such tender sympathy when she nursed Albert during the long period of his fever. The impression which those days had left on her mind still remained in all its vigour, and the sight of him who had unawares made an inroad into the recesses of her heart, made her fearful of meeting his eye. She heard him say to his wife, "That is the kind girl who nursed me when I lay ill in her father's house, and who conducted me part of the way to Lichtenstein."
Bertha turned to her, and took her hand with great kindness. The girl trembled, and her cheeks assumed a deep blush. She opened her little basket, and presented a piece of beautiful linen, with a few bundles of flax, as fine and soft as silk. She attempted in vain to speak, but kissing the hand of the young bride, a tear fell upon her nuptial ring.
"Eh, Barbelle!" scolded Mrs. Rosel, "don't be so timid and nervous. Gracious young lady,--I would say gracious madame,--have compassion on her; she comes but seldom into the presence of quality folks. There is no one so good who has not two dispositions, says the proverb; the girl can be otherwise as merry and cheerful as larks in spring."
"I thank you, Barbelle," said Bertha: "your linen is very acceptable and very fine. Did you spin it yourself?"
The girl smiled through her tears, and nodded a yes! to speak at that moment appeared to her impossible. The Duke liberated her from this embarrassment only to place her in another still greater. "The fifer of Hardt has truly a very pretty child," he cried, and beckoned to her to approach nearer, "well grown and lovely to behold! only look, chancellor, how well the red bodice and short petticoat become her. Could not we, Ambrosius Bolland, issue an edict for all the beauties in Stuttgardt to adopt this neat dress?"
The chancellor's countenance became distorted into a hideous smile: he examined the blushing maiden from head to foot with his little green eyes; and said, "Certainly, a very good reason could be given, by which an ell might be spared in the length of petticoats, for, as your grace a few years back ordered the weights and measures to be reduced, you have also the right, by all the rules of logic, to shorten the dress of females. But nothing would be gained by it, for--hi! hi! hi! you would see that what was cut off from the bottom, our beauties would be obliged to add above. And who knows whether the ladies would willingly agree to that? They belong to the genus of peacocks, who, you know, don't like to shew their legs."
"You are right, Ambrosius;" the Duke laughed; "nothing escapes a learned man! But tell me, my dear, have you got a sweetheart?"
"Ah! what? your grace!" interrupted the round matron, sharply. "Who would talk about such like things to a child! She is a very good girl, your highness."
The Duke paid no attention to this remark; he enjoyed the embarrassment which was visibly manifest in the chaste features of the innocent girl, who sighed softly, and, playing with the ends of the coloured ribands of her plaited hair, sent an involuntary look to Albert, which seemed to claim his kind offices in her present perplexity, and then suddenly cast her eyes down to the ground. The Duke, alive to every thing that was passing, laughed aloud, in which he was joined by the rest of the men. "Young woman," he said to Bertha, "you may now with justice take part in the jealousy of your husband; if you had seen what I just saw, you might imagine and interpret all kind of things."
Bertha smiled, and, sympathising with Barbelle in her embarrassment, felt how painful the taunts of the men must be to her. Whispering to old Rosel, she told her to take the mother and daughter away. The Duke's sharp eye remarked this also, which his merry mood attributed to jealousy on the part of Bertha. She however unclasped a beautiful cross, set in gold and red stones, which she wore on her neck, attached to a chain, and presenting it to the astonished girl, said, "I thank you with all my heart, my dear Barbelle, for your kindness to my husband; remember me to your father, and come often to us here and in Lichtenstein. What say you, would you like to be in my service? I would endeavour to make you happy, and you would live with your aunt Rosel."
The girl was evidently perplexed at this unexpected proposal. She appeared to combat her feelings, and an assent to it seemed to be struggling through an innocent smile on her countenance, only to be withdrawn again by some other contending feeling. "I thank you very much, gracious lady," she at last uttered, and kissed Bertha's hand, "but I must stay at home; my mother is getting old and wants my assistance. May the Lord, with all his saints, watch over you, and the holy Virgin be gracious to you! May you live in health and be happy with your husband; he is a good, kind gentleman!" Bending down again to kiss Bertha's hand, she then withdrew with her mother and aunt.
"Hearken," called the Duke after them, "if your mother ever consents to give you a husband, bring him to me, and I'll fit you out, my pretty fifer's child!"
By this time it was four o'clock, and the Duke rising from table was the signal for the spectators to quit the galleries, which were immediately furnished with cushions and carpets, and arranged for the reception of the ladies. The tables were removed from the body of the hall, when lances, swords, shields, helmets, and the whole apparatus for tilting were brought in, converting this spacious apartment, which had been but a moment before the scene of festive joy, into a place for the exercise of manly games.
In the present day the education of the fair sex gives them a superior claim to intellectual knowledge and accomplishment over those of the times we narrate. The interest they now take in learned discussion and political argument, and the thirst for novelty which induces many to crowd the rooms of the scientific lecturer, would seem, in some instances, to intrude on the more important duty of domestic employment. Not so was the time of the Swabian matrons and young women occupied. The charge of the house was their sole vocation; but, upon occasions such as the present, their delight was to witness the manly exercise of men, whose bloody strifes were even not unwelcome to their sight. Many a beautiful eye flashed with the noble desire of belonging to a brave combatant. Deep blushes adorned many a cheek, not so much from the fear of seeing her beloved in danger as to witness his retreat from the scene of action, when it was attended with disgrace, or when his arm wielded his sword less powerfully than his antagonist.
Horses were even brought into the hall on this evening, and Bertha had the joy to see her husband obtain a second applause for having made George von Hewen stagger two different times in his saddle. Duke Ulerich von Würtemberg was the bravest combatant of his day, and an ornament to the order of knighthood. History relates of him that, on the day of his own wedding, he overthrew eight of the strongest knights of Swabia and Franconia.
After the tilting had lasted some time, the company adjourned to the hall of the knights for dancing, when the victors of the different games had the precedence in the ball, in all respects similar to the one we have already described. The Duke appeared to have pinned all anxiety and care of the future upon the hump of his chancellor, who sat in a window like a demon of evil destiny, looking upon the surrounding scene with bitter smiles. Raging under an envious feeling of spite, by being debarred from joining in the pleasures of the evening in consequence of the deformity of his person, he remained in his position in sullen silence.
At the end of the last dance Ulerich, the crown of the feast, proposed a parting toast to the young and beautiful bride, but neither he nor Albert could find her in any part of the room. The whisperings and smiles of the ladies betrayed the secret of her having been led away by six of the handsomest maidens, who accompanied her to her dwelling, and, as the custom of those days would have it, to perform the mysterious services of waiting maids.
"Sic transit gloria mundi!" said the Duke, smiling; "but look, Albert, your nuptial companions, with twelve others, are approaching with torches to illumine your path home. But first empty a goblet with us. Cupbearer, go bring us some of our best," he added, addressing the attendants.
Maxx Stumpf von Schweinsberg and Dieterich von Kraft now drew near with torches in their hands, and offered themselves to conduct Albert to his house. Twelve young men followed, each with a torch, to do honour likewise to the bridegroom, for that was also the ceremony used on such occasions. The Duke's cup-bearer brought a full goblet of wine, when having, according to custom, first tasted it himself, he presented it to his master, and then to Albert von Sturmfeder.
Ulerich looked at his friend for a time, evidently moved by a feeling of affection for him. "You have kept your word," said he: "when I was deserted by all the world, dwelling in misery under the earth, you made yourself known to me, when those forty traitors surrendered my castle, and not a spot of Würtemberg was left that I could call my own. You followed me out of the country,--you often consoled me and pointed to this day. Remain, my friend, for who knows what the next day may bring forth. I can now command hundreds who will cry, 'Long live Ulerich!' nevertheless, that shout is far less dear to me than the toast which you gave me in the cavern, and which was re-echoed through its vaults. I'll repeat it, and give it you back again. May you live happy with your wife,--may your offspring blossom and prosper for ever,--and may Würtemberg never fail in hearts as bold in prosperity and faithful in adversity as yours has proved itself!"
The Duke drank, whilst a tear glistened in his eye. The guests cheered and shouted his praise,--the torch-bearers arranged themselves in order,--and Albert von Sturmfeder, led by his two companions, and followed by the rest, was conducted in procession out of the castle to the house of his bride.
Hast thou not seen by times the cloudless skySudden illumined by the lightning flash,And its still, still silence, broken horriblyBy the loud music of the thunder crash?To this we might man's happiness compare,--To day 'tis present, and to-morrow----where?Schiller.
Hast thou not seen by times the cloudless sky
Sudden illumined by the lightning flash,
And its still, still silence, broken horribly
By the loud music of the thunder crash?
To this we might man's happiness compare,--
To day 'tis present, and to-morrow----where?
Schiller.
The path which the most celebrated novelists of our days generally tread, in their relation of events of ancient and modern times, may be found without the aid of any beacon, and has a direct and fixed limit:--it is the journey of a hero going to a wedding. Let the road be ever so rugged, let him even venture to loiter his time improvidently and inconsistently on his way, he will be induced in the end to hasten his steps so much more rapidly to redeem the lost ground; and so, when an author has at length conducted his reader to the bridal chamber, after having made his hero undergo all the necessary fatigues of his journey with becoming fortitude and resolution, he shuts the door in your face, and closes the book. We might in the same way have ended our story with the gay doings in the castle of Stuttgardt, or included the reader in the torchlight procession of the bridegroom, and conducted him out of our book; but the higher claims of truth and history, together with the interest we have taken in some of the leading characters, compel us to request the reader's patience to accompany us a few steps further, beyond the limit of the bridal-chamber. He will have to bewail with us the destiny of one, who, having begun his career in the midst of misfortune, progressively advanced towards the completion of his best wishes by the energy of his noble mind, until at length his impetuous spirit hurled him again into the depths of misery. His headstrong obstinacy had well nigh involved all his friends in his own sad fate: one alone of them, whose sense of gratitude had indissolubly attached him to the fortunes of his benefactor, preferred rather to risk his life in his service than to desert him in the hour of distress.
Nature's warning voice, which teaches us to be prepared against a reverse of fortune in our happiest days, runs through the world's history. It is acknowledged by the many, unheeded by the majority, and followed by the few. In all times a troubled spirit has pervaded the habitations of our earth; and, though its influence has been often felt, man has vainly thought to deaden it in the noise of mirth. Ulerich von Würtemberg had heard this warning voice many a night, when he lay on his couch sleepless from a troubled mind. Often times he had started up, thinking he heard the noise of armed men, or the heavy tread of an army approaching nearer and nearer the spot; and, though he convinced himself it was but the night breeze playing through the towers of his castle, a fearful impression still haunted his mind, that his fate was destined to some other awful change. The warnings of his old and tried friend Lichtenstein would often whisper its voice to his mind; in vain he sought to smother it by calling to his aid the artful advice of his chancellor, by which he tried to palliate his own conduct and quiet his conscience. But that faithful monitor upbraided him with having acted without due circumspection and caution since his return to his capital. His enemies, it was well known, had re-assembled a powerful force, with which they threatened the country, and were approaching into the heart of Würtemberg. The imperial town of Esslingen presented itself as a very favourable starting point for their undertakings; being but a short distance from the capital, nearly in the centre of the country: as soon, therefore, as the army of the League could open its communication with it, it became a formidable stronghold, to favour and cover their incursions into Würtemberg. The country people in many places received the Leaguists favourably, for the Duke, by his new regulations, which he had made them swear to, had rendered them distrustful of his intentions. The Würtembergers, from time immemorial, being attached to ancient customs and privileges, handed down through successive generations, regard their old laws and ordinances as so many golden words, though they may scarcely understand their import, or seldom consider whether some reform would not be advantageous.
The peaceable character of the peasant, generally so universal throughout the country, fostered by the tranquil occupations of domestic and agricultural affairs, would lead to a supposition that political strifes were subjects indifferent to their minds; but it was far otherwise: on the occasion of any change or reform in the usages of their ancient laws and customs, which interfered with their ideas of government, they manifested an obstinate caprice, with an ardour and enthusiasm quite out of keeping, and foreign to their ordinary inoffensive dispositions.
The Duke had experienced this love of old institutions in his people, when he some few years back, by the advice of his council, for the purpose of bettering his finances, made an alteration in the public weights and measures. An organised insurrection of peasants, entitled, "The League of Poor Conrad," had made him reflect, and caused the Tübingen compact, which restored the old law, to be introduced. This feeling of attachment to long standing habits was also manifested towards him personally in a very touching manner, when the League entered the country with the intention of expelling the head of the ancient house of their prince. Their fathers and grandfathers having lived under the sway of the Dukes and Counts of Würtemberg, they were filled with dismay and consternation, when a foreign army entered their country to deprive them of their hereditary prince. Their hatred and revenge was excited against the League and their governors; and, though they were compelled by force to submit to their rule, they proved their love to their Lord in many instances of violence towards his enemies.
When their hereditary prince, therefore, a Würtemberger, first returned from exile, the people flocked around him, under the impression that affairs would go on as heretofore. Under his sway they were willing to pay the taxes, to redeem all the state debts, and perform the service done in soccage. There was no murmuring about hard treatment, provided it was done according to ancient usage, and by their legitimate master. But now, the old laws having been expunged by the new oath of fidelity to which they were called upon to swear, the taxes being no longer levied according to old custom, and the whole system being changed, it was no wonder that the people looked upon the Duke as a new master, foreign to their habits, and loudly demanded a return to former rights. They consequently lost all faith in him; not because his hand lay heavier upon them than heretofore; not because he required considerably more from their purses than formerly, but because they regarded the new order of things with a suspicious eye.
A prince, particularly when he lends his ear to such a man as Ambrosius Bolland, seldom learns the true tone of public opinion, and therefore cannot judge whether the measures which his council place before him have been wisely considered. In the present instance, however, the discontent of his people did not escape the penetrating eye of the Duke. He remarked, that he could no more depend upon them, in the event of an extreme difficulty, than he could upon the nobility of the country, who, since his return, had remained neutral spectators of the state of affairs.
He endeavoured to screen from public notice the uneasiness which these observations caused him; and for this purpose he assumed an extravagant tone of gaiety, which often succeeded to blind himself, and make him forget the precipice upon which he stood: and for the sake of instilling confidence into the people, and into the army which he had assembled in and about Stuttgardt, he determined to revenge himself with double interest upon the League, for the depredations they had committed in excursions from Esslingen. He beat and repulsed them indeed, and wasted their territory; but when he returned in victory from his expedition, he could not conceal from himself, that, considering his own slender resources, the fortune of war might go against him, when once the army of his enemies should be brought into the field. His apprehensions were soon verified; for the rapid advance of the League's troops towards the capital threatened the stability of Ulerich's present doubtful position. Upon the turn of a battle, which now seemed inevitable, depended his very existence.
Little or nothing was known in Stuttgardt of a summons which had been sent to the Duke from the League. The court lived in its usual round of gaiety; tranquillity and joy reigned in the town; when all of a sudden, on the 12th, of October, the lansquenets which the Duke had encamped near Cannstadt, a short distance from the capital, came into the town in confusion, with the intelligence that they had been driven in by a large force of the League. The inhabitants of Stuttgardt were now convinced that an important crisis was at hand; they conjectured that the Duke must long since have been aware of this threatening attack, for he immediately assembled his officers, drew in his troops, which were scattered about in quarters in the villages surrounding the capital, passed his army in review, amounting to upwards of ten thousand men, on the same evening; and in the night marched with a large body of infantry, to reinforce the posts which a division of the lansquenet still occupied between Esslingen and Cannstadt.
The departure of all the men, young and old, who could carry arms, caused many a beautiful eye to weep that night, when they marched out of Stuttgardt with the Duke, to the field of battle; but the wailing of the women and young maidens was drowned in the warlike noise of the marching army, resembling the sobs of a child amidst the raging of the elements. Bertha's grief, though almost overpowering, was silent, as she accompanied her husband to the door, where his servants awaited him and her father with their horses. They had enjoyed the first days of their marriage alone and in quiet, mutually engaged in the affectionate offices of each other's happiness. Dreaming little of the future, they thought themselves safe in the haven of uninterrupted love; and whilst they lived but for themselves, the whisperings, the mysterious disquietude which agitated the public mind, were unheeded by them. Having been long accustomed to see the knight of Lichtenstein serious and thoughtful, they did not attribute the alteration which his features had of late assumed, to any cause beyond the natural anxiety he was known to feel in the present state of the Duke's affairs. Neither did they, for the same reason, apprehend any immediate disaster to disturb their happiness, although they remarked a certain air of fearful anticipation and despair which at times clouded his brow. The old man witnessed the happiness of his children, and participated in it; and, not wishing to interrupt their bliss unnecessarily, he concealed from them his uneasiness upon the state of affairs; but at length the threatening crisis approached. The Duke of Bavaria had advanced into the heart of the country, and the call to arms startled Albert out of the embrace of his beloved wife.
Nature had gifted her with a strength of mind, and a superiority of character, which entered into every transaction of her life, and exists only in that purity of soul which commits its dearest interests into the hands of a higher Power, with implicit confidence. Aware of what was due to the honour of her husband's name, and the relationship in which he stood to the Duke, she repressed her grief, and the only sacrifice which the infirmity of her nature offered for the many dangers to which her beloved husband would necessarily be exposed, was an involuntary flood of tears.
"I cannot believe, dearest Albert, that we are never to see each other again!" she said, whilst a forced smile illumined her beautiful face: "we have but just begun to live; heaven will not cut us off in the bud of a happy existence; I can, therefore, part from you in tranquillity, in the conviction that you will soon be restored to me."
Albert kissed her soft weeping eye, which dwelt upon him so full of tenderness, and whose glance inspired him with consolation and fortitude. In this distressing moment he thought not of the danger he was going to encounter, his only concern was the consideration of the affliction of the beloved being he held in his arms, should he be left on the field of battle. The mere thought of the painful existence she would then lead in solitude, and in the remembrance of the few days of their bliss, unmanned him. He pressed her in his arms, as if to drive away these agonizing ideas from his mind; he gazed with intense love upon her endearing eye, seeking to obliterate the heart-rending feelings of the moment; but his heart, though rent by the afflicting struggle of separation, was inspired with hope and confidence. He at length forced himself from her embrace.
The two knights joined the Duke at the gate leading to Cannstadt. The night was dark, only enlivened by the dim light of the first quarter of the moon and the host of stars. Albert observed the Duke to look gloomy, and wrapped in deep thought. His eyes were cast down, as if to avoid observation, and he rode on in profound silence, after he had saluted them hastily with his hand.
There is something peculiarly solemn and striking in the night march of an army. By day, the sun, a cheerful country, the sight of many comrades, the change of scenery, invite the soldier to beguile time by conversation and the merry song; and, because outward impressions forcibly engage the attention, little is thought among them of the object of the march, of the uncertainty of war, or of futurity, which is veiled to no one more than to the military man. Very different is a march by night. The hollow sound of the tread of the troops, the regular pacing of horses, their snorting, the clatter of arms, only break the stillness of night, whilst the mind, no longer able to dwell on surrounding objects, impressed by these monotonous sounds, becomes thoughtful and serious; joking and laughter cease to cheer the march, loud talk sinks into whispering, and thought, no longer occupied with indifferent subjects, is taken up with speculations upon what is likely to be the result of the campaign.
Such was the complexion of the march of that night, gloomy, and uninterrupted by any shout of animating joy. Albert rode by the side of the old knight of Lichtenstein, occasionly casting an anxious look at him, for he sat in his saddle as if bent down by grief, with an expression of thoughtfulness on his countenance, more strongly marked than he had ever noticed before. Animation seemed almost suspended, and nothing gave indication of life in him, but an occasionally deep-drawn sigh, or when his keen eye was raised in contemplation of the pale moon.
"Do you think we shall have a skirmish tomorrow?" whispered Albert to him, after a time.
"Skirmish!--we shall have a battle," was the short answer.
"How! do you really believe that the army of the League is strong enough now to attempt to stand its ground against us? It's impossible! Duke William must have possessed wings to have brought up his Bavarians so soon, and we know that Fronsberg is still undecided as to his intentions. I don't believe they have many more than six thousand men."
"Twenty thousand," answered the old knight, in an under tone of voice.
"By heavens! I had no idea of that," replied the young man in astonishment. "We shall certainly have hard work, if that be the case; but we have well trained and experienced troops, and the League's army cannot boast of an eagle eye compared to the Duke's, not even excepting Fronsberg's. With such an advantage on our side, do you not think the chances are in our favour?"
"No," was the answer of the old man.
"Well, I'll not give up all hope. We have also a still greater advantage in our cause: we fight for our country, whereas the views of the League are mercenary. That circumstance alone will inspire our troops with courage. The Würtembergs will defend their father-land."
"That is just what I least depend upon," answered Lichtenstein. "Had not the Duke been obstinate in forcing the country to swear to the new oath of allegiance, the case would be far different, he would have had the hearts of the people with him; but now, force alone compels them to fight under his banners. The result is dubious."
"I admit what you say to be true, and that the Duke has lost much by the imprudence of his measures," replied Albert; "but I have great faith in the honest patriotism of the Swabians, and, in spite of everything he has done, they will not desert their hereditary Prince in the hour of need, and in the defence of his lawful rights. Where do you think we shall meet the enemy? Where shall we take up a position?"
"The lansquenets have thrown up a few redoubts at Untertürkheim, between Esslingen and Cannstadt, and have three thousand five hundred men there; we shall join them tonight."
The old man was silent, and they rode on for some time side by side, without speaking.
"Hearken, Albert!" he began again; "I have often looked death in the face, and am old enough not to fear to stand in such a predicament again. We are all liable to the common lot of mortals. If anything happens to me, console my dear child, Bertha!"
"Father!" cried Albert, grasping his hand, "pray do not think of such things; you will still live long and happy with us!"
"Perhaps so," replied the old man, with a firm voice, "perhaps not. It were folly in me to beg of you not to risk yourself too much in the battle; you would not follow my advice; but I pray you to think of your young wife, and do not rush into danger blindly, and without good reason. Promise me this."
"I promise! here is my hand; where duty calls me, I cannot shrink from it; unnecessarily I'll not expose myself; but you, also, my dear father, must give me the same promise."
"We'll not talk about that at present. If I, by chance, am called out of this life to-morrow, my last will, which I have placed in the Duke's hands, will be fulfilled. Lichtenstein will pass into your possession, and you will be invested with the property. My name will die with me in the country; may yours live in its remembrance so much the longer!"
The young man was overcome at these last words of his high-minded, venerable father: he endeavoured to answer him, but the rush of painful thoughts to his mind prevented all utterance. A known voice at the moment called him by name. It was the Duke's. He pressed the hand of his wife's parent, and rode in haste to Ulerich.
"Good morning, Sturmfeder!" said the Duke, who appeared more cheerful; "I say good morning, for I hear the cock crow in the village. How did you leave your wife? was she very much overcome when you last saw her?"
"She wept," answered Albert; "but she uttered not a word of complaint."
"Just like her, by Saint Hubertus! we have seldom seen so much fortitude in a woman. If the night were not quite so dark, I would like to see in your eye whether your heart is tuned to the battle, and if you are inclined to close with the Leaguists?"
"Show me but the path I am to follow, and you'll not find me swerve from it, though it lead into the thickest of the battle. Does your grace imagine, that, during the few days of my marriage, I have so totally forgotten the lesson I learnt of you, namely, never to lose courage in prosperity or adversity?"
"You are right--impavidum ferient ruinæ; we expected nothing less from our faithful banner-bearer; but another must perform that office to-day. I have selected you for a more important service. You will take these hundred and sixty cavalry by our side, choose one of them to show you the way, and trot on direct to Untertürkheim. It is possible the road may not be open, as the Leaguists from Esslingen may have come down to dispute the passage with us. How would you act under such circumstances?"
"I would throw myself with my hundred and sixty horsemen among them, and cut my way through; that is to say, if their whole force were not in the neighbourhood. If I found them too strong, I would cover my position, until you came up with reinforcements."
"You have well said, spoken like a valiant swordsman, and if you deal your blows as heavily on them as you did on me at Lichtenstein, you'll cut through six hundred Leaguists. The people I have given you are staunch. They are composed of the butchers, saddlers, and blacksmiths of Stuttgardt and the surrounding towns. I know them in many a hard fight. Brave, and able to sever the skull down to the breast bone, they will follow you, sword in hand, wherever you may lead them, when once they are well inclined towards you; let them have but one good blow at the brain, no doctor's hand need attempt a cure. That's the right sort of Swabian cut."
"Am I to take post at Untertürkheim?"
"You will find there the lansquenet under George von Hewen and Schweinsberg encamped on a hill. The watchword is, 'Ulerich for ever!' Tell them they must keep the position till five o'clock; before day-break I shall be with them with six thousand men, and then will await the Leaguists. Farewell, Albert!"
The young man returned the salute by bowing respectfully, and putting himself at the head of the gallant band, trotted down the valley with them. The men were powerful figures, broad shouldered and well limbed, whose animated fearless looks beheld their young leader with satisfaction, as he placed himself in their front, and appeared honoured by his command. Having run his eye rapidly through the ranks, he selected one whose penetrating eye and intelligent countenance seemed to point him out as the fittest person to act the part of guide. He immediately called him to his side, and gave him the necessary directions. They approached the foot of the Rothenberg, on the summit of which stood the hereditary castle of the house of Würtemberg, commanding an extended view over the valley of the Neckar. It was but faintly illumined by the glimmer of the stars, and Albert could not distinctly distinguish its form, though he kept his eyes fixed upon its towers and walls. He recollected that night in the cavern, when the Duke spoke in sorrow of the castle of his ancestors, and described the country seen from its towers as abounding in corn, wine, and fruit, all of which he once could call his own. The young man sank into reflection upon the unhappy fate of the Duke, which now again appeared to contend with him for the possession of his patrimony. He dwelt upon the extraordinary mixture in his character, the foundation of which was truly great, but was too often disturbed by rage, malice, and unbending pride. "If you look between those two trees, you will be able to distinguish the points of the towers of Untertürkheim," said the man, who was conducting him on the road. "The road is much more level now, and if we push on, we shall soon be there."
Albert spurred his horse, and the rest following his example, soon gained sight of the village. A double line of lansquenet was stationed outside of it, who at their approach presented their halberds in fearful array, whilst the red glimmer of burning matches was seen scattered about in many points, like the glow-worm sparkling in the night.
"Who comes there?" cried a deep voice from the ranks: "Give the watch-word!"
"Ulericus for ever," answered Albert von Sturmfeder: "who are you?"
"Good friends!" answered Maxx Stumpf Schweinsberg, stepping out of the ranks of the lansquenet, and riding towards the young man. "Good morning, Albert; you have kept us waiting somewhat long. We have been all night upon our legs, anxiously expecting a reinforcement, for in the wood there over against us it does not look pleasant, and if Fronsberg had been aware of his advantage, he might have overpowered us long ago."
"The Duke is coming up with six thousand men," replied Sturmfeder, "and will be here in two hours at furthest."
"Six thousand only, did you say? by Saint Nepomuk, that's not enough! we have but three thousand five hundred here, so that all we can muster in the field will make little more than nine thousand. Are you aware that the Leaguists are over twenty thousand strong? What artillery does the Duke bring with him?"
"I don't know--it was only just arrived when we departed," replied Albert.
"Well, come, and let the men dismount, and take some rest," said Maxx Stumpf; "they'll have work enough this day."
The cavalry dismounted, and laid down to rest. The lansquenet also were permitted to fall out of their ranks, leaving strong piquets on the heights, and on the Neckar. Maxx Stumpf gave all the necessary directions for the remainder of the night; and Albert von Sturmfeder, rolling himself in his cloak, also laid down to repose himself from the fatigues of the past twenty-four hours, and refresh himself for the coming strife. The stillness of the morning, broken only by the monotonous tone of the sentry's call, soon lulled him to sleep, with the last thought directed in prayer to God, into whose hands he resigned himself and his beloved wife.
Enveloped in the smoke,Both man and horse are hidden;Away they now have broke,Now down the hill have ridden:Across the Neckar springs the steed so good,And in the valley is the fight renew'd.G. Schwab.
Enveloped in the smoke,
Both man and horse are hidden;
Away they now have broke,
Now down the hill have ridden:
Across the Neckar springs the steed so good,
And in the valley is the fight renew'd.
G. Schwab.
Albert was roused a little before break of day by the roll of drums, calling the little band to arms. A small border of light was visible on the horizon, the advanced guard of day, when the troops of the Duke were seen coming up in the distance. The young man put on his helmet and armour, mounted his horse, and, at the head of his men, waited to receive the Duke. The stern features of Ulerich had lost none of their thoughtful expression, though all traces of gloom had disappeared from them. From his eyes beamed a warlike fire, and his countenance bespoke courage and determination. Clad entirely in steel, he wore a green cloak, trimmed with gold, over his heavy armour, whilst the colours of his house waved in the large floating plumes of his helmet. The rest of his dress differed in nothing from that of the knights and nobles about him, who, all clad in polished steel, "up to the eyes," formed a circle around the Duke. They saluted Hewen, Schweinsberg, and Sturmfeder in a friendly way, and made inquiries about the position of the enemy.
Nothing was as yet to be seen of the troops of the League, except on the border of the wood towards Esslingen, where a few straggling out-posts were observed to be stationed. The Duke determined to quit the height which the lansquenet occupied, and take up a position in the plain beneath. His army being much inferior in cavalry to the League, who, according to the reports of spies, could muster three thousand horses, he hoped the flanks of this position, having the Neckar on one side and a thick wood on the other, which he intended to take up in the valley, would make up for the deficiency in numbers.
Though the opinion of Lichtenstein, with many others, was against this plan, fearing the army would be exposed to the fire of artillery from the surrounding heights, Ulerich would not be dissuaded from it, and ordered the army to march accordingly. Having arranged his order of battle close to the town of Türkheim, he there awaited his enemy. Albert von Sturmfeder was directed to remain near him with the cavalry, which had been entrusted to his command, to be ready to strike a decisive blow, and at the same time to form his body guard; whilst Lichtenstein, with four-and-twenty other knights, joined themselves to this mounted body of burghers, ready to support them in the event of an attack of cavalry. In those days a battle was often an affair of so many single-handed combats. The knights who followed an army seldom fought in solid masses; but with a quick eye, they marked out an adversary from among the ranks of the enemy, rode at him, and fought him with lance and sword. Such a band of gallant men, headed by old Lichtenstein, was that which now closed with Albert's troop. The Duke himself, burning with the desire of wielding his powerful arm, and proving the renown of his far-famed prowess in single combat, was only controlled in this romantic idea by the pressing exhortations of his friends. A most extraordinary figure was seen to keep his station by the side of the Duke, in appearance more like a tortoise on horseback, than a human being. A helmet, with a large feather, protruded high above a small body, upon the back of which sat an arched coat of mail. The little horseman's knees were bent high up on the saddle, whilst his hand kept a fast hold of the pummel. The closed vizor of the unknown knight concealed his face from Albert's observation; who, curious to ascertain who the ridiculous looking warrior might be, rode up to the Duke to satisfy himself, and said:
"Upon my word, your highness has provided yourself with a marvellous looking animal as a guide. Only observe his withered legs, his trembling arm, the enormous helmet between his shoulders;--who may this pigmy be?"
"Don't you recognize the hump?" asked the Duke, laughing. "Just observe the extraordinary coat of mail he has on; it is for all the world like a large nutshell, to protect his back, in case he has to run for it. He is my faithful chancellor, Ambrosius Bolland."
"By the holy Virgin! what an unjust opinion I have formed of him," replied Albert; "I never thought he would have drawn a sword or mounted a horse, and there he sits upon a beast as big as an elephant, and carries a sword as long as himself. I never should have given him credit for so martial a spirit."
"Do you suppose it is his own free-will which impels him to attend me in the field? No, I have been obliged by force to make him follow me. Having pushed me to extremities against my will, in order to satisfy his wicked intentions, which I fear has placed me upon the brink of a precipice, he shall partake of the soup himself which he has cooked for me. He wept when I insisted on his coming with me; complaining of his gout, and other infirmities, saying his nature was not military; but I made him buckle on his armour, and put him on a horse, the most fiery beast in my stable. He shall have the bitters as well as the sweets of his counsel."
During this discourse the knight of the hump threw open his vizor, and discovered his pale affrighted countenance. The eternal hypocritical smile had vanished, his piercing little eyes had swollen beyond their ordinary size, and assumed a staring look, turning slowly and timidly from side to side; a cold perspiration sat upon his forehead, and his voice had softened down into a trembling whisper. "For the mercy of God, most worthy Albert von Sturmfeder, most beloved friend and benefactor," said he, "pray say a good word for me to our obdurate master, that he may release me from this masquerading gambol. The ride in this heavy armour has most cruelly tormented me, the helmet presses on my brain, setting all my thoughts on the dance, and my knees are bent with the gout. Pray, pray do! say a kind word for your humble servant, Ambrosius Bolland; I will certainly repay it ten-fold."
The young man turned away in disgust, from the cowardly sinner. "My Lord Duke," said he, whilst a blush of high-minded scorn and contempt coloured his cheeks, "permit him to go. The knights have drawn their swords, and pressed their helmets firmer on their foreheads; the people shake their spears, impatient for the signal of attack; why, then, should a coward be counted among the ranks of men?"
"He remains, I say," replied the Duke, with a stern voice; "the first step he makes to the rear, I'll cut him down from his horse. The devil sat upon your blue lips, Ambrosius Bolland, when you advised us to despise our people, and subvert the laws of the land. This day, when the balls whiz and swords clatter, shall you know whether your counsel has proved of advantage to us or not."
The chancellor's eyes beamed with rage, his lips trembled, and his whole countenance was fearfully distorted. "I only gave you my advice,--why did you follow it?" said he; "you are the Duke and master; you gave the orders for swearing the oath of allegiance,--how could I help it?"
The Duke, in anger at these words, turned his horse with such velocity towards him, that the chancellor, expecting his last moment was come, bent himself down in trepidation on his horse's mane. "By our princely honour," he cried, with a terrible voice, his eyes flashing fire, "we are astonished at our own forbearance. You took advantage of the blindness of our anger, when first we re-entered our capital; you knew too well how to ingratiate yourself into our confidence. Had we not followed your counsel, thou serpent, we should have had twenty thousand Würtemberg hearts as a wall to defend their Prince. Oh! my Würtemberg! my Würtemberg! Had I but followed the advice of my old friend! There is indeed a charm in the love of my people!"
"Away with these thoughts," said the old knight of Lichtenstein. "We are on the eve of battle; all is not yet lost; we have still time to repair the wrongs we have committed. You are surrounded by six thousand Würtembergers, and, by heavens! they will be victorious, if you lead them with confidence to the enemy. We are all friends here, my Lord! forgive your enemies; dismiss your chancellor, who can be of no service to you, he cannot use a sword."
"No! remain by my side, thou tortoise! dog of a scribe!" said the Duke. "Seated in your office, you wrote laws with your own hand, and despised my people, you shall now witness how they can fight; how a Würtemberger can conquer or----die. Ha! do you see them on the height there? do you see the flag with the red cross? there's the banner of Bavaria; how their arms glisten in the dawn of the morning, and their helmet plumes wave in the breeze! Good morning, gentlemen of the Swabian League; that is a sight for a Würtemberger! how my heart gladdens at it!"
"Look! they are preparing their artillery," interrupted Lichtenstein; "you must not remain on this spot, my Lord, your life is in danger; go back, go back; send us your orders from yonder tree, (pointing to one at a distance,) where you will be in safety; this position belongs to us alone."
The Duke turned to him, and answered, with an air of proud dignity, "Where did you ever hear that a Würtemberger retreated when the enemy had sounded the attack? My ancestors never knew what fear was, and their posterity shall also, like them, never betray the motto, 'Fearless and true!' Observe how the brow of the mountain becomes darker and darker with their numerous bodies of men. Do you see that white cloud on yonder hill, tortoise? do you hear it crack? that's the thunder of artillery, that pours into our ranks. If you have a clear conscience at this moment, make up your accounts with this world; for no one would give a penny for your life."
"Let us say a prayer," said Maxx von Schweinsberg, "and then at them, in God's name."
The Duke piously raised his hands and eyes towards heaven, and his companions following his example, they said their prayers, imploring the aid of the Almighty in the justice of their cause. This was the general custom of the good old times, before the battle commenced. The thunder of the enemy's artillery contrasted terribly with the deep silence which reigned about this group, now engaged in soliciting God's protection. Each appeared deeply impressed with the solemnity of the few moments which were perhaps left to them in this world, except the chancellor Ambrosius Bolland, who clasped his hands, whilst his eyes were not directed in faith to heaven, but wandered to the enemy's heights. His trembling body, as he observed the fire and smoke of each gun from the League, proved that his soul was not leaning upon Him who makes his sun to shine upon the good and upon the evil.
When Ulerich von Würtemberg and those around him had finished their solemn duty, he drew his sword, which was immediately followed by the rest, and in a moment a thousand blades glittered in the sun. "The lansquenet are already engaged," said he, casting his eagle eye rapidly down the valley. He now issued his orders with a cool determined voice, and, addressing George von Hewen, directed him to support them with a thousand infantry. Turning then to Schweinsberg, he said, "Take eight hundred men to the skirt of the wood, and remain there till further directions. Reinhart von Gemmingen, march with your division, and take position in the middle space between the wood and the Neckar. And you, Albert von Sturmfeder, remain here with your brigade of cavalry, and be ready to advance at a moment's notice. And now may God be with you all, my friends! Should we be destined not to see each other again in this world, we shall meet the sooner in the next." He saluted them by lowering his immense sword. The knights returned it, and advanced with their respective bodies of men towards the enemy, rending the air with loud vivas of "Ulerich for ever!"
The army of the League having taken up the ground which the Duke's men had shortly before occupied, saluted their enemy from the mouths of several pieces of heavy ordnance, moving slowly down into the valley, with the apparent intention of crushing them by superior numbers. At the moment when their last division had quitted this position, the Duke turned to Albert von Sturmfeder, and said, "Do you see those guns on the height?"
"Yes, and they are supported by a very few men apparently," he answered.
"Fronsberg supposes that because we cannot fly over to him, it would be impossible to take his pieces. But there is a path in the wood there," said the Duke, pointing with his hand, "which leads to the left, into a field, which field skirts the hill. If you advance cautiously with your cavalry, and follow the path, you will get almost into the rear of the enemy. And if you succeed, pull up your horses a moment to give them wind, and then gallop up the hill, and their artillery is ours."
Albert bowed to him at parting, whilst the Duke gave him his hand. "Farewell, young man," said he; "it grieves us to send so young a married man upon such dangerous service; but we know of none other better calculated or more determined than yourself to perform it."
The cheeks of the young hero glowed with ardour when he heard these words, and his eyes bespoke confidence in the bold enterprise he was about to undertake. "I thank you, my lord, for this new proof of your consideration," he replied; "you do me a greater kindness than if you had endowed me with one of your most valuable estates. Farewell, father," turning to old Lichtenstein, "remember me to my beloved wife."
"I don't mean to let you go alone," replied the old knight, smiling: "I'll accompany you. Under your conduct----"
"No, remain with me, old friend," entreated the Duke; "do you wish me to follow the chancellor's counsel in the field also? He might lead me into a much worse scrape than he has already done. Stay by my side, old man; make a hasty farewell with your son, for there is not a moment to lose."
The old knight pressed the hand of the young man, who returned it smiling, and, in a cheerful mood, placed himself at the head of his gallant band, when he galloped away with the Stuttgardt burghers, leading them towards the enemy in this critical moment, crying, "Ulerich for ever!" Having reached the skirt of the wood, he had a moment's leisure to run his eye over the field of battle. The Würtembergers were in very good position, their flanks being covered by the wood and the Neckar, and their centre arranged in such a manner as to be able to repel any serious charge of cavalry. It was therefore evident, that any alteration in their present line of battle would subject them to extreme danger. The great disadvantage under which they laboured was the fact of their being inferior to their enemy by two-thirds of the number of combatants and though the Leaguists were unable to bring their whole force into action at once, in consequence of the confined space of the valley, their superiority of numbers compensated for the want of room to manœuvre in, which consideration alone required the most strenuous exertions of Ulerich's small band to maintain their ground. They, indeed, with such fearful odds against them, kept their line unbroken, and their courage appeared to rise still higher as their ranks began to thin. But, though the brave Swabians valiantly disputed every inch of ground, it was to be apprehended lest, by dint of renewed attacks by fresh troops, they would ultimately be forced to give way.
These fleeting observations which Albert had been enabled to make, convinced him that upon some daring piece of service depended the success of the day. The energies of his mind rose in proportion to the difficulties he had to contend with. He felt that Ulerich's destiny was now in his keeping, and that one bold stroke, such as he was about to undertake, would decide the fate of the contest.
His troop having now reached the wood, they proceeded through it in silence and with caution, aware of the advantage which infantry possess over cavalry under such circumstances. But they arrived at the point leading to the field which the Duke had described, without molestation. To the right beyond the wood the battle raged in full fury. The cheers of the attacking part, the roar of artillery and small arms, the noise of the drums, echoed terribly through its trees.
The hill lay before them, from the summit of which several pieces of heavy artillery played upon the ranks of the Würtembergers. The path to the top of it, leading up from the side of the wood, being of gentle ascent, Albert was astonished at the quick eye of the Duke in having discovered the only weak part of the enemy's position, every other point of it being unassailable, at least by cavalry. The guns, as far as he could observe from the place where he stood, were not supported by any considerable force, and, therefore, as soon as the horses had rested a few moments, Albert sounded the charge, and, putting himself at their head, galloped up the hill in gallant style, and reached the summit in an instant, calling to the enemy to surrender. The consternation of the Leaguist troops in thus finding their enemies suddenly among them, paralysed all their means of defence; whilst the brave butchers, saddlers, and blacksmiths of Stuttgardt, taking advantage of their confusion, dealt out the true Swabian cut on the heads of their adversaries, and in a short time reduced the covering party to a small number. Albert threw a triumphant look down the plain towards the Duke; he heard the exulting shouts wafted to him from the throats of many thousand Würtembergers, and saw them advance with renewed courage, being now relieved from the galling fire of the artillery on the hill.
He was obliged, however, to check this momentary joy of victory, in consideration of his retreat, the second and most difficult operation of the gallant undertaking; for the Leaguists, having observed the sudden cessation of their artillery, had ordered a powerful body of cavalry to charge the hill. As there was no time to bring away the captured guns, he quickly ordered his men to fill them with stones and earth, rendering them by this means unserviceable, and then casting his eye towards the line of retreat, he perceived he would have to contend with difficulties he had not anticipated. To retrace the path through the wood by which, he had advanced was his first thought, for, were it even occupied by the enemy's cavalry, he would meet them upon equal terms. But, to his dismay, as he was about to put it into execution, he observed that a large body of the Leaguist infantry had already gained the wood to cut off his passage through it, rendering it thereby impossible for him to join his comrades by that road. To attempt to cut through the enemy's army with only one hundred and sixty horsemen, would seem to be absolute madness. The only alternative left to him, therefore,--and it was one more likely to lead to death than deliverance,--was to make direct for the Neckar, which flowed between him and his friends, and pass it by swimming across. Desperate as this only resource of escape was, he determined to act upon it without loss of time, and once having gained the banks of the river, he thought the passage of it might be easily accomplished. By these means he might hope to join the Duke; though it was but a forlorn hope. Five hundred men of the Leaguist cavalry had by this time reached the foot of the hill upon which he stood. He thought he recognized Truchses von Waldburg at their head, and rather than surrender to him, he would willingly have suffered death.
He gave the signal to his gallant Würtembergers to follow him down the side of the hill which led to the banks of the river. They staggered at the fearful expedient, for it was scarcely to be expected that a fifth part of them would escape, so steep was the descent, and besides which, between the hill and the river stood a large body of the enemy's infantry, ready to receive them. But their gallant young leader, throwing open his vizor, discovered to them his noble countenance, beaming with the inspiration of heroic magnanimity. The whole troop were animated by the same bold spirit, and when they recollected they had seen him but a few weeks back leading a beautiful maiden to the altar, and that he had left this endearing object behind him, for the sake of his Duke and country, they vociferated in loud shouts the practices of their several vocations. "At them!" cried the butchers, "we'll slaughter them like oxen;" "And we'll hammer them like hot iron," cried the blacksmiths; and the saddlers vociferated "They shall be beat as soft as leather." "Ulerich for ever!" cried their bold-hearted leader, who putting spurs to his horse, was the first to gallop down the dangerous declivity. The enemy's cavalry could scarcely believe their eyes when they arrived at the top of the hill, in expectation of capturing their daring adversaries, and saw them hotly engaged with their infantry at the bottom of it. This bold step of Albert's cost many a brave man his life: many were thrown from their horses, and fell into the hands of the Leaguists; but the major part, arriving safely at the foot of the hill, were engaged hand to hand with the enemy, and the helmet plumes of their leader were seen to wave high in the midst of the fray. The ranks of the infantry were soon broken by the impetuous charge of the Würtembergers, who now pushed for the bank of the Neckar, and following their leader, dashed into the water to cross it. Though his horse was a powerful beast he had not strength sufficient to bear the weight of his rider, clad in armour, nor to stem its stream, at present swollen beyond its ordinary height by heavy rains. He was on the point of sinking, calling to his men not to think of him, but to push on to the Duke, and give him his last farewell, when at this critical moment two gallant blacksmiths, having disencumbered themselves of their horses, seized the young knight, one by his arms, and the other taking his horse's bridle, landed him in safety on the opposite bank.
The Leaguists sent many a shot after their flying enemy, but fortunately they fell harmless. In the sight of both armies, this daring band continued its further route unmolested to the Duke. Having passed a deep ford, not far from the spot where Ulerich was stationed, they were received with loud shouts of joy and applause by their companions.
Though a considerable part of the enemy's artillery had been rendered unserviceable by the no less bold than rapid attack of Albert von Sturmfeder, such was the unhappy fate of Duke Ulerich, that even this brilliant feat of arms could not avert the spell which seemed to hang over his destiny. The strength of his people began to fail under renewed attacks of superior numbers. In spite of the experience and bravery of the lansquenets, who gave proofs of the honesty of their promises to the Duke, and though they continued to uphold their accustomed warlike character, and did not cede an inch of ground, the loss they had sustained obliged their commanders to form them into circles to repel the charges of cavalry. The line of battle being thereby broken, the vacant spaces were but feebly filled up and sustained by the country people, badly armed, and worse soldiers, having been brought into the field in haste, and almost without discipline. At this critical moment intelligence arrived of the Duke of Bavaria having suddenly surprised and taken possession of Stuttgardt, that a fresh army was coming up in the rear, and was scarcely a quarter of an hour's distance off. This news was a death-blow to the Duke's hopes, who now perceived there was nothing left to him but flight or death to prevent his falling into the hands of his enemies. What was to be done in this emergency? His followers advised him to throw himself into the hereditary castle of the house of Würtemberg, and there remain until he could find an opportunity secretly to escape. He turned his eyes towards the place, his last resource, which, lighted up by the brilliancy of the day, seemed to look down in stern majesty upon the valley, where the descendant of him who raised it had staked his last hope in one desperate conflict. But when he saw the red flag playing in the morning breeze over the towers and walls of his castle, he turned pale, and pointing to it, was unable to give utterance to the painful feelings which the sight occasioned. The knights directing their attention to it, discovered a black smoke issuing from all corners, a proof that the victorious flag had been planted on its pinnacle amidst the flames lighted up by an avenging enemy. Würtemberg now burnt at every point, and her unhappy master witnessed the spectacle in ghastly despair. Both armies also noticed the burning castle. The Leaguists saluted the event with loud shouts of exulting joy, whilst the courage of the Würtembergers sank in proportion, and viewed the sad sight as the setting sun of the Duke's prosperity.
The drums of the army advancing in the rear were now heard distinctly approaching towards them; the armed peasantry, in many places, began to give way, when Ulerich said, in a firm, voice, addressing those immediately about him, "Whoever means honourably by us, follow me, we'll cut our way through their hosts, or fall in the attempt. Take my banner in your hand, valiant Sturmfeder, and charge their ranks with us." Albert seized the flag of Würtemberg, the Duke placed himself by his side, the knights and burghers on horseback surrounded them, and prepared to open a passage for their lord. The Duke pointed to a weak position in the enemy's line, which appeared the one most favourable to ensure the success of the daring project; if the attempt failed, all was lost. Albert volunteered for the desperate post of honour of leading the determined band; but the old knight of Lichtenstein, beckoning to him not to quit the Duke's side, placed himself boldly in front, and directing one more glance to his lord and son, closed his vizor, and cried, "Forwards! Here's to good Würtemberg for ever!"
About two hundred horsemen composed the resolute band, which moved on in a trot, arranged in the form of a wedge. The chancellor Ambrosius Bolland's heart beat lighter when they departed, for the Duke, amidst the anxieties of the moment, had quite lost sight of him, and he now held council with himself how he could most conveniently dismount from his long-legged steed. The noble beast, however, with upstanding ears and restless motion had noticed the departure of the cavalry. So long as they moved on in gentle trot, he remained tolerably quiet. But when the trumpets sounded the attack, and the gallant crew broke into a gallop with Würtemberg's banner waving high above the helmet plumes, this appeared to be the moment which the chancellor's high metaled steed had been anticipating, for with the rapidity of a bird, he stretched over the plain in the track of the other horsemen. His rider, almost deprived of his senses, and his hand seizing the pummel of his saddle in a state of convulsion, attempted to halloo, but the rapidity with which he cut through the air hindered all further utterance. Though the Duke and his friends had gained some considerable distance from him, the chancellor soon overtook, and then passing them, found himself, much against his will, the leading man in the desperate encounter which was about to take place. The attention of the enemy was riveted to the extraordinary figure of the chancellor, which appeared more like an ape in armour than a warrior on horseback, and before they could make out what he was, his steed had carried him into the midst of their ranks. The spectacle was so highly ridiculous, that the Würtembergers, notwithstanding this moment was for them one of life or death, broke out into loud laughter, which, spreading confusion among the troops of the League, composed of those of Ulm, Gmünd, Aulen, Nürnberg, and other imperial cities, allowed the overpowering weight of the two hundred horses, carrying the chancellor along with them, to break through, and gain the rear of their enemies. They pushed on their march in haste, and before the Leaguist cavalry could be sent in pursuit, the Duke, with his followers, had already gained a long start, and turned off the field of battle by a side path.
The mounted burghers having covered the retreat of the Duke, he effected his escape with a few faithful adherents, whilst they directed their route towards Stuttgardt. The enemy's cavalry only came up with them just as they had reached the gates of the city, when great was their disappointment not to capture either the Duke or any of his principal partisans, whom they expected to find among them. Ambrosius Bolland was their only prize. He, more dead than alive from excessive fright and fatigue, was not able to dismount from his elevated position without assistance. After having peeled his body of its unaccustomed covering, the Leaguists vented their rage and disappointment upon the unfortunate man, by beating him and other ill-usage; for they attributed to his supposed bravery, which appeared to them to exceed all they had ever witnessed, the loss of a thousand gold florins, set as a reward upon the capture of the Duke. And so it happened that the gallant chancellor, not like his master beaten in battle, was beaten after it.