How the two Knights were entertained by the Lady
Minnatrost.
“When that voice sounds,” said the Knight of Trautwangen, “my heart is
irresistibly attracted, and I dare not longer remain here;”--thereupon
he took the bridle from his light-brown steed, commanded him to stand
motionless, and then went on towards the gate of the watch-tower. The
sea-monarch, as he looked at the building, seemed shaken by an inward
and irrepressible terror; yet, wherever his beloved and faithful
companion led the way he would not remain behind. So he now followed
the example of the Knight of Trautwangen; yet could not help asking,
“Is this voice already known to you, whereby you are so powerfully
attracted?” “No,” answered Sir Otto, “I know it not, nor even can I
tell to whom the voice belongs, yet thereby my heart is irresistibly
moved, and inspired at once with melancholy and with confidence.”
Accordingly, when they had knocked at the gate, there appeared a tall
and graceful form, in snow-white garments, with a green veil hung
over her head and features; yet through this veil the lustre of two
light-brown eyes was visible, like the rays of the evening sun through
the tangled foliage of the green woods. She looked with surprise at
the two knights, and said, “Wherefore in all the world hast thou
returned again so soon? And how, Ottur, hast thou come by that black
and silver mail? But thy looks are now far more mild and tranquil. Thou
hast reflected perchance on the injustice with which thou hast treated
my counsels, and art become good and pious,--is it not so?” “Lady,”
answered the knight, with a courteous bow, “my name is not Ottur, but
Otto, to which is added the surname of Trautwangen; however this much
I can promise, that should’st thou think fit to bestow on me a share of
that loving kindness which has been shewn to the wild Ottur, I shall at
least behave better and more piously than he has done!”
The lady stood for a while motionless and silent; at length she said
in a low tone, “So then it was indeed no dream, when methought I heard
your voice sound yesterday from the depths of the valley?” Thereupon
she bowed her head, and added kindly, “Step onwards through the portal,
Sir Otto von Trautwangen, and bring your comrade too, if it is your
pleasure to have him with you. In this castle you shall always be made
welcome, together with every one whom you think fit to bring hither.”
Sir Otto accepted the invitation gladly, but the sea-monarch followed
slowly and with hesitation.
So they entered the castle, and proceeded up long-winding staircases,
through echoing passages, and chambers filled with strange furniture,
such as they had never seen before. In one of these rooms, as they were
passing through, Sir Arinbiorn touched with his iron glove the arm of
his friend, and, pointing to a frame-work on the wall that was half
concealed by a curtain, said, “That, if I mistake not, must be the
magic mirror!” “Noble Lady,” said Sir Otto to his conductress, “your
kind reception emboldens me to make one request. Would it be permitted
me to lift up that curtain, that I may discover what highly-honoured
portrait is placed within that golden frame-work?” “If it so please
you, Sir Knight of Trautwangen,” answered the lady, “that may indeed be
done. But this much I must tell you before-hand, there is no portrait
behind that curtain, but a mirror in whose glassy depths I may well
say that the whole happiness of my life has been wrecked and lost;
thus, too, I have afterwards lost all hope that my fortunes might ever
be retrieved. Therefore I have hung this curtain over the mirror;
and it is withdrawn only at certain seasons of the year, when its
enchantments may no longer be concealed, and when, for the most part, I
myself am absent. If, however, you wish to behold its wonders, you have
but to give me the signal.” With these words she had stepped up to the
dark-red curtain, and grasped its golden cord, waiting, as it seemed,
for Sir Otto’s determination.
At length, “God forbid,” said the knight, “that I should desire aught
that is contrary to your will and pleasure, unless,” added he, turning
to Sir Arinbiorn, “I were well assured that the whole happiness
and welfare of my noble friend and brother in arms depended on the
discovery; but, to say the truth, I do not believe that it is from this
mirror that he can derive his good fortune.” The sea-monarch shook
his head mournfully, assenting to what Sir Otto had said, and then
bowed courteously to the lady, who now retired from the mirror, and
led her guests onward into another chamber. Here it seemed as if Sir
Arinbiorn, contrary to his usual manner, had become humble, submissive,
and even afraid to speak. Sir Otto, on the other hand, was gay and
unconcerned, expressing all his thoughts as if with filial confidence
before their solemn conductress, who also spoke with him kindly and
cheerfully.
They had now taken their places at a round table, that stood in a small
room faintly illuminated. “Oh Heaven!” cried Sir Otto, “since we came
hither, how have my long-lost tranquillity and lightness of heart been
restored! only one thought still comes at intervals to perplex me. Is
that wanderer whom you name Ottur a man indeed, or is he not rather a
horrid shadow of myself, an abominable spectre, who has yet such power
over me, that he can steal even my own features, and involve me in such
indissoluble snares of sorcery or witchcraft, that I shall never more
be secure against his delusions?”
“Nay, be not thus alarmed,” answered the lady; “the youth of whom thou
speak’st is indeed a man, as thou art, who now devotes his whole life
in order to gain the affections of a young pagan enchantress, who
dwells not far distant in a cave of the Finland mountains, and who
from hence would send forth legions of evil spirits, who are at her
command, against the Christians of Sweden and Norway, were it not that
I am here to interpose my protection. No one, however, is aware of
the noiseless, invisible, and yet vehement contention that we keep up
against each other. Yonder, in the distance, by the light of the now
rising moon, you may behold her dwelling among the rocks.” The knights
went to the window, and contemplated the wide expanse of woods and
mountains, that now looked sad and melancholy beneath the influence of
departing autumn. Through the damp vapours of the night they beheld,
on the other side of the valley, a strange assemblage of rocks, which
rose like pillars, and were joined at the top, forming a lofty arch,
while one could see deep into a long retreating cavern, whence there
gleamed in the background the dull light of a large fire. “That light
comes from the fire on which she boils her golden kettle,” said the
lady; “there the enchantress pronounces her potent spells, and calls up
numberless spirits, even as frightful and hideous to look upon, as she
herself is attractive and beautiful.” “But, look yonder! who is that
armed knight?” said Sir Otto. “He walks beneath this pale moonlight
so resolutely and slowly before the cavern, as if he were a special
sentinel! How the horse-hair crest of his helmet waves in the wind,
and his tall halbert gives him a look of ghostly strength!” “That is
indeed the unhappy Ottur of whom we spoke,” answered the lady: “thus he
now thinks to win her heart; but in that attempt he never may succeed!
What struggles he has already endured, and what painful victories he
has won, all for her sake, and in vain! But he will not listen to my
counsels, and rushes on to his own destruction!”--The lady fixed
her eyes for a while, with an expression of deep melancholy, on the
ground, then looked up, smiling, to the Knight of Trautwangen, and
said,--“But Otto is not Ottur; he is indeed no wild Norman who will
not hear good and kind advice, but rushes down the rugged steeps to
his own ruin.”--“From such evils may Heaven protect me!” answered
Sir Otto; “and next to the protection of Heaven, methinks it is your
counsels that would most aid me in this world!”--The lady clasped her
hands as Sir Otto had done when he pronounced these words; she looked
out tranquilly on the pleasant moonlight; and the knights were aware,
that, though she did not speak audibly, she was then engaged in fervent
orisons.
After a while she turned from the window, and said,--“Now, brave
warriors, it is time that you should refresh yourselves at the banquet,
after your long journey hither.”--Thereupon, behold! the table in the
middle of the chamber was already supplied with rich viands and flasks
of the noblest wine.--“Be not amazed hereat,” said their hostess; “and,
above all, be not afraid. Mark you!” said she, making the sign of the
cross over both food and wine, “your banquet stands that proof, at
which the gifts of an evil spirit or sorceress would have turned into
ashes or vanished away.”--“Who would have entertained such doubts,”
said the Knight of Trautwangen, “since we know that we are under your
roof, kind and pious Lady Minnatrost?”--“Indeed!” said their mysterious
hostess, in a mournful tone; “how, then, have you learned that name
which has been so long unheard and forgotten?”--“Thank Heaven!”
answered Sir Otto, “that I have found you at last; for I well know that
you can be no other than the Lady Minnatrost. Of your life formerly,
and your castle on the shores of East Friesland, I have already heard
from Sir Heerdegen, and Bertha of Lichtenried.”--Thereupon the Druda
slowly raised her arm, as if in solemn admonishment. “Young knight,”
said she, “thy looks should be graver, and thy tones humbler, when
thou speakest of thy cousin Bertha. I am indeed the Lady Minnatrost of
whom thou hast been told; and both you, and the brave companion who
is now thy companion, are welcome guests in my castle. I know very
well that he is the sea-monarch Arinbiorn, and that he has been once
here ere now, though then, indeed, his presence was unlooked for and
uninvited.”--With these words she cast a look on Sir Arinbiorn; whereat
he was forced to turn his eyes to the ground, and could not for a
while recover from his confusion; till at length the lady urged both
knights to partake of the banquet, and by degrees they became tranquil
and cheered in heart, more even than they had ever been in their whole
lives before. When their entertainment was over, and they were taking
leave, then said the Lady Minnatrost,--“You may come twice every week
to visit me, as you have now done; and have no fears for your troops in
your absence, for I shall protect them.”