THE MAGIC RING.
OLIVER & BOYD, PRINTERS.
THE
MAGIC RING;
A ROMANCE,
FROM THE GERMAN OF
FREDERICK, BARON DE LA MOTTE FOUQUÉ
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
EDINBURGH;
PUBLISHED BY
OLIVER & BOYD, TWEEDDALE-COURT;
AND GEO. B. WHITTAKER, LONDON.
1825.
THE
MAGIC RING.
VOL. II.
CHAPTER I.
How Sir Otto was possessed by the devil.
The door at last opened, and bending his head, on account of his
gigantic stature, a champion made his appearance, dressed in a golden
suit of armour, with a helmet surmounted by two projecting vulture’s
wings, also of gold. Sir Otto started involuntarily when he beheld
them; he could not help reflecting on his combat with the skeleton in
his father’s chapel. Behind the sea-monarch came also many strange
figures; but so completely were the company engrossed by the king
himself, that they bestowed on the others little or no attention.
Arinbiorn stepped on towards the Knight of Montfaucon, (not forgetting
to greet every lady courteously as he passed by,) took him kindly
by the hand, and said, “How is this, cousin Folko? What means the
intelligence that I have received? And is it possible to find such a
favourite child of fortune thus wounded? That must indeed have been
a powerful adversary with whom you have fared so hardly; but he no
doubt is already dead; for, as to what has been told me of your being
vanquished in the conflict, and of your having lost the ring to which
you had so often maintained your sister’s rights, that in truth I
must look upon as impossible!” “Nay, nay,” said Sir Folko, blushing
and confused, “I have at last been over-matched in the lists, and the
beautiful damsel whom you behold yonder now possesses the ring, this
castle, and all its territories; so that I am here like yourself, as
one of her guests.”
The sea-monarch bowed respectfully to Gabrielle; then begged that some
one would point out to him the wonderful champion, who had not only
resisted but overpowered the hitherto invincible Sir Folko. Thereupon,
when the youthful blooming Otto von Trautwangen was introduced to him,
he looked at the conqueror with such astonishment, that the latter
began to feel offended, and was about to speak; but the brave Arinbiorn
at length greeted him respectfully, and said,--“If there has been
here neither stratagem, nor witchcraft,--and of your honour I cannot
doubt,--then, good Heaven! what may not be looked for from one who, in
earliest youth, has contended as you have done!” Again he bowed with
courteous gravity; and Gabrielle, blushing with joy and triumph, laid
her snow-white hand in that of Sir Otto, bent down her head, with its
rich braided tresses, before him, and pronounced the solemn words, “I
am the betrothed bride of the noble warrior, Sir Otto von Trautwangen!”
Then the music sounded aloud; all the guests shouted and rejoiced;
there was a jovial ringing of golden cups, and Otto, saluting his
beautiful bride, saw, as it were, heaven itself, in the deep azure of
her gleaming eyes.
“Take also my blessing, dearest Otto,” said a voice which arose mild
and gentle as the notes of a flute behind him. “Heaven knows I am
heartily glad to have found you so happy!” Looking round he beheld the
well-known lovely features of his cousin Bertha, kind and cheerful in
their expression, though pale indeed as the moonlight that wont to
shine in the stilly chambers of the Lady Minnatrost. At some distance,
however, like a dark thunder-cloud, appeared the frowning visage,
furrowed by many a scar, of Sir Heerdegen of Lichtenried. “So then
all has been but a dream,” said Sir Otto, passing his hand across his
eyes, as if to banish the painful visions that confused him, while
Sir Heerdegen came forward and seemed about to speak. Bertha, however,
placed herself between her cousin and his bride, joined their hands
firmly together, and uttered her congratulations and wishes for their
long life and happiness so eloquently, and in tones so musical, that
she seemed almost like an angel sent from Heaven to bless their union.
The dark clouds even vanished from the brow of Sir Heerdegen as he
listened to her words; and king Arinbiorn said, “Truly I had taken
this damsel and her brother prisoners, having honourably won them as
the prize of a single combat on the coast of East Friesland, and I had
designed that they should be brought home as trophies to my native land
of Norway. There too I would have been to them as an elder brother, for
so we have hitherto lived together. But now, methinks, in honour of
this festival, I shall set them at liberty; for I know well that the
young champion whom we are met to congratulate will rejoice therein.”
The hall now resounded with new and yet louder acclamations. Gabrielle,
who well remembered that eventful meeting with Bertha on the banks of
the Danube, embraced her kindly, and kissed her pale cheeks, while
Sir Heerdegen gave his hand to the Knight of Trautwangen in token of
friendly reconciliation.
Now were the party again seated at the banquet, Bertha next to
Gabrielle, Heerdegen to Sir Folko, Arinbiorn to Sir Otto, when the
latter perceived, that, behind the sea-monarch’s chair, there stood
a tall female figure, with luxuriant golden locks, and a long sword
girded round her waist, beautiful indeed, but with a stern changeless
aspect; and when the young knight started up, and offered her his
place, she turned away as if in wrath, and in slow measured steps
left the hall. “Nay, nay, think not of her;” said the sea-monarch,
perceiving the astonishment of the guests; “be it known to you,
however, it had been once intended in the north, that this warlike
damsel should be my betrothed bride. Her name is Gerda, and she is far
and wide renowned for her supernatural arts and resistless spells.
Moreover, she is our relation. But from that marriage a visionary form
withheld me,--a form so graceful, so peerless in beauty, that I had
scarcely dared to hope I should ever behold it, after that first time
in the magic mirror, and yet now it comes living and smiling before me!”
The sea-monarch faltered and paused, lost, as it seemed, in strange and
mysterious recollections. It was a pleasure to mark how a deep blush,
like that of a young damsel, came over his stern warlike features.
After a space, however, he recovered his composure, and proceeded as
follows:--
“Suffice it, noble damsels and knights, we were never betrothed; and
Gerda said,--‘If I cannot be thy wedded wife, I shall yet be thy
guardian Valkyria; I shall twine for thee the garland of victory, and
hold to thy lips the cheering cup of refreshment.’ Since that hour,
she follows wheresoever I wend my way, oftentimes preparing for me
unexpected good fortune; also now and then she brews for my behoof that
wonderful drink well known among the northern heroes; after partaking
of which, we remain for a long time invincible, only not against
enchanted weapons. Many times I have considered it inconsistent with
the honour of a true knight to use such means of defence; and therefore
she has more than once given it to me against my own will and without
my knowledge.”
“The Chevalier de Montfaucon,” said Don Hernandez, “related to us, not
long ago, a story regarding this magical drink.”
“If used in moderation,” said King Arinbiorn, “it may indeed produce
admirable effects. But, on the contrary, if one drinks incautiously,
such direful consequences ensue, that my soldiers are afraid both of it
and of the mysterious damsel by whom it is prepared. Her intentions are
good; but that her character is strange and inscrutable is also true.
Sir Heerdegen of Lichtenried had, in a manner best known to himself,
made her acquaintance on the coast of East Friesland before he engaged
with me in single combat.”
Now, while Sir Heerdegen, at the desire of all the party, described
how he had seen Gerda employed in collecting leaves and flowers on
the sea-shore, she had, unobserved, come back into the banquet-hall.
Again she had taken her station behind Sir Arinbiorn, and had placed
before him a large golden cup filled to the brim with liquor, though
he himself never remarked that she had done so. Sir Otto, indeed,
perceived that she was in the room, and again turned round, intending
to offer her his place; but, discontentedly, she made him a sign that
he should not move; then retired, as if fearful of being noticed, and
continued to pace up and down, like one lost in thought, through the
wide banquet-hall. Thereafter Otto lost sight of her, so much the
more readily, as Heerdegen, in his story, began to speak of the Lady
Minnatrost; whereupon the whole party were anxious to hear more of the
wonderful Druda. Sir Otto could not join with them in asking questions;
but his whole heart was engrossed by what he heard of the silent lady,
with her mysterious castle, and the tranquil moonlight that ever
gleamed around her. Meanwhile Bertha’s beautiful eyes shone full of
tears.
At length, half jesting, half angry, Gabrielle whispered to her
bridegroom, “How is this? Already on your bridal day so thoughtful
and absent?” Sir Otto was about to excuse himself; but she continued,
smiling, “Nay, nay, your thoughts are now far from hence, and are
exclusively devoted, though _how_ we know not. You are a German; yet
for a long time the wine-cup has stood untouched before you. Have you
once, during the banquet, drank to the health of Gabrielle?”
“My life, my happiness, my crown of victory!” cried Sir Otto, scarce
knowing what he said; and, in the inspiration of the moment, he drank
out the contents of the goblet which stood nearest him, not till
afterwards perceiving that it was the golden cup of King Arinbiorn.
Then some one touched him on the shoulder, and turning round, he
perceived that it was Gerda, who, with threatening gestures, addressed
to him some monitory words, of which he then understood not the import.
Like a stream of liquid fire, the drink which he had swallowed now
burned within him; at the same time he remarked, how Gerda had taken
her place opposite to him in a corner of the hall. There she held the
battle-axe of King Arinbiorn in her hands, while, by the motion of
her lips, he could perceive that she was busily occupied in prayers
or incantations. She made strange gestures too, as if she wrote upon
or inscribed magic signs upon its iron head, though all the while her
eyes were steadfastly fixed upon the Knight of Trautwangen. At last she
came nearer, and placed the battle-axe by the sea-monarch’s chair; then
stepped mournfully out of the hall.
Meanwhile the songs of the minstrels and discourse of the guests
became always more lively round the banquet-table. All seemed happy
and contented with one another; while the heroic ballads and legends,
thrown in by the wise harpers and bards, were like flowers and blossoms
of that joy which was implanted in every breast.
Meanwhile, Sir Otto’s feelings alone were discordant; and he, that
should have been the gayest of the gay, was the only one of the party
in whom the music that rose all around him awoke the most fierce and
frightful emotions. Every word uttered by the minstrels excited him to
wrath. Every shape around him was frightfully transformed; the very
hall itself seemed changed; its roof contracted, and descended lower
and lower, till he believed himself confined in a dreary chapel-vault.
As he looked on Sir Arinbiorn, Sir Heerdegen, the Knight of Montfaucon,
even on Bertha and his beloved Gabrielle, the features of all were
horribly distorted. At last the vision of the narrow vault faded away,
and he thought that he was gasping and swimming for life in the midst
of a raging sea; that the waves were peopled by monstrous fishes,
with human heads, which opened their vast jaws to swallow him alive.
Especially there was among them one far more hideous than the rest,
which had on his head a pair of great vulture’s wings, and in his teeth
carried a death’s-head, whereon the scars of many sword-strokes were
visible. “He has brought it from my father’s chapel!” thought Sir Otto;
and then he recollected himself, and became convinced that the only one
near him, who wore such vulture’s wings, was the brave King Arinbiorn,
who sat with him in friendship and peace at the banquet. Soon after,
however, he again thought that the sea-monarch might indeed prove as
frightful an enemy as the spectre-fish which threatened him; and he
remembered all the strange stories of ghosts and demons, and shadowy
phantoms, by which Sir Heerdegen had told him the Finland frontiers
were haunted. He could scarcely resist the growing delusions of his
brain, nor the frightful impulse to deeds of violence and wrath, which
swelled through every nerve and fibre.
Suddenly he started up from table; his eyes glared horribly; his voice
resounded through the hall like a thunderclap; right and left, all the
guests started up in affright. He stood alone in the midst of them,
wielding his drawn sword, which played like lightning-gleams round his
head. “Holla, holla!” cried he; “where is the devil that would beset
us? Holla, huzza! I challenge him to single combat. I shall meet him
with giant-strength!”
“Heaven have mercy! he is possessed; the devil of whom he speaks has
him under his power!” Such were the words that ran whispering along the
walls, to which the whole party had fled, that they might be out of his
reach. “For the second time,” said the brave Chevalier de Montfaucon,
“I would gladly venture with him in combat!” With these words, he
tried to rise from his couch; but the exertion only made his wounds
bleed afresh; so that he fell back, almost fainting, and, attended by
the trembling Blanchefleur, was borne out of the hall.
Immediately afterwards, the Spaniard Hernandez, and three noble
Frenchmen, stepped forward, in order to seize on the frightful madman.
With one blow, however, from his left arm, he swept them all back
against the wall, then laughed aloud, and stationed himself in such
manner at the portal, that no one could venture out of the apartment.
“Throw spears, knives, and daggers at him!” was now cried from all
sides; nor were Bertha’s gentle entreaties to spare him yet a while
heard amid the confusion. The knives and spears were thrown; they
struck him; and though he wore no coat-of-mail, yet they fell to the
floor without inflicting the slightest wound. “These devilish fish are
spouting water against me,” said the madman, again laughing loudly and
horribly. “The devil is indeed within him, and protects him,” was
now whispered about; “he is at once his friend and his master!” “No,
no!” said Bertha, “that may never be!” Her bright blue eyes gleamed
full of love and confidence; and in a voice like divine music, she
said,--“Otto, my dearest Otto, give me, in God’s name, your hand, and
follow me in peace to your chamber!” She went up to him so cheerfully
and lovingly, that every one believed her victory secure; but the
tempest which raged within Sir Otto’s brain became only more furious
and uncontrollable. “What would’st thou here, horrible pale-visaged
witch?” cried he, in his voice of thunder. Therewith he struck the
hand so kindly offered him with his sharp sword, and Bertha fell back
fainting to her place. Sir Heerdegen supported her; and though his eyes
glared in wrath at the madman, yet he dared not for the moment leave
his pale wounded sister to wreak the vengeance which he would so gladly
have fulfilled.
Then the sea-monarch, Arinbiorn, came forward. “Either shall this
diabolical madman,” said he, “compensate for the blood that he has
drawn from that beauteous damsel, or the last of mine shall be shed in
her cause.” With these words, he placed himself before Sir Otto, and
lifted his battle-axe. “Ha! thou art come again?” cried the madman:
“Vulture’s wings! Death’s head! wilt thou have another blow from the
Knight of Trautwangen? There, Satan, be then on thy guard!” “Thou
art thyself the devil of whom thou speak’st,” cried the sea-monarch;
and though Sir Otto’s sword moved incessantly over his head, yet the
powerful battle-axe descended with resistless force, and the miserable
knight fell without a word, and lay motionless on the ground.