THE BOY AND
THE BARON
[Illustration: “THE TWO KNIGHTS WHEELED THEIR HORSES AND DASHED AT EACH
OTHER AGAIN AND AGAIN.”]
[Illustration]
S^T. NICHOLAS BOOKS
THE BOY AND THE BARON
_BY_ ADELINE KNAPP
NEW YORK · THE CENTURY CO · MCMII
Copyright, 1901, 1902, by
THE CENTURY CO.
_Published October, 1902_
THE DEVINNE PRESS
TO
MERODINE KEELER
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I WHAT THE CHILDREN SAW FROM THE PLAYGROUND ON THE PLATEAU 3
II HOW KARL THE ARMORER TOOK THE SHINING KNIGHT’S TREASURE
FROM AMONG THE OSIERS 19
III HOW WULF FARED AT KARL THE ARMORER’S HUT 26
IV OF HOW WULF FIRST WENT TO THE CASTLE, AND WHAT BEFELL 39
V HOW WULF WENT TO THE SWARTZBURG, AND OF HIS BEGINNING
THERE 60
VI HOW CONRADT PLOTTED MISCHIEF, AND HOW WULF WON A FRIEND 73
VII HOW WULF CLIMBED THE IVY TOWER, AND WHAT HE SAW AT THE
BARRED WINDOW 86
VIII HOW BARON EVERHARDT WAS OUTLAWED, AND HOW WULF HEARD OF
THE BABY IN THE OSIERS 101
IX OF THE ILL NEWS THAT THE BARON BROKE TO HIS MAIDEN WARD,
AND OF HOW SHE TOOK THAT SAME 115
X HOW WULF TOOK ELISE FROM THE SWARTZBURG 132
XI WHAT THE FUGITIVES FURTHER SAW IN THE FOREST, AND HOW THEY
CAME TO ST. URSULA AND MET THE EMPEROR 145
XII HOW WULF TOOK THE EMPEROR’S MESSAGE TO KARL OF THE FORGE 161
XIII HOW WORD OF HIS DANGER CAME TO WULF AT THE FORGE 173
XIV OF THE GREAT BATTLE THAT WAS FOUGHT, AND OF HOW WULF SAVED
THE DAY 187
XV HOW THE SHINING KNIGHT’S TREASURE WAS BROUGHT TO LIGHT 198
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
The two knights wheeled their horses and dashed at each
other again and again _Frontispiece_
The shining stranger held in front of him a good-sized
burden 9
Putting horn to lip, he blew four great blasts 15
The forest’s small wild life constantly came in at the
open door 33
The boy began patting the broad neck of the charger 53
Wulf could naught but fend and parry with his stick 77
Lowering himself farther, he came upon a narrow casement
nearly overgrown with ivy 97
Then the baron gripped her by the arm 125
With the head of his battle-ax he struck it a blow that
sent it inward 177
The emperor laid drawn sword across his bowed shoulders 207
THE BOY AND
THE BARON
CHAPTER I
WHAT THE CHILDREN SAW FROM THE PLAYGROUND ON THE PLATEAU
One sunny forenoon in the month of May, something over six hundred years
ago, some children were playing under the oak-trees that grew in little
companies here and there in a pleasant meadow on a high plateau. This
meadow was part of a great table-land overlooking a wide stretch of
country. It was hedged along the west with white-thorn, setting it off
from the tillage on the other side, and on the east it dipped to the
bank of a little stream fringed with willows and low bushes. The south
side descended in a steep cliff, and up and down its slope the huts of a
little village seemed to climb along the stony path that led to the
plateau. Farther away lines of dark forest stretched off out of sight,
in solid walls that looked almost black over against the bright green of
meadow and field and the rich brown of the tilled land. On all sides
were mountains, covered with trees or crowned with snow, from which,
when the sun went down, the wind blew chill. Beyond the stream a highway
climbed the valley, and the children could see, from their playground,
the place where it issued from the edge of the wood. They could not
follow its windings very far beyond the plateau, however, for it soon
bent off to the left and wound up a narrow pass among the hills.
Toward the north, and far overhead, rose the grim walls and towers of
the great castle that watched the pass and sheltered the little village
on the cliffside. Those were rude, stern times, and the people in the
village were often glad of the protection which the castle gave from
attacks by stranger invaders; but they paid for their security, from
time to time, when the defenders themselves sallied forth upon the
hamlet and took toll from its flocks and herds.
It was “the evil time when there was no emperor” in Germany. Of real
rule there was none in the land, but every man held his life in his own
charge. Knights sworn to deeds of mercy and bravery, returning from the
holy war which waged to uphold Christ’s name at Jerusalem, were undone
by the lawlessness of the times, and, forgetful of all knightly vows,
turned robbers and foes where they should have been warders and helpers.
The lesser nobles and landholders were become freebooters and
plunderers, while the common people, pillaged and oppressed by these,
had few rights and less freedom, as must always be the case with peoples
or with single souls where there is no strong law, fended and loved by
those whom it is meant to help.
The children under the oak-trees played at knights and robbers.
Neighboring the meadow was the common pasture, where tethered goats and
sheep, and large, slow cattle, stood them as great flocks and caravans
to sally out upon and harry. Now and again a party would break forth
from one clump of trees to raid their playmates in a pretended village
within another. Of storming castles, or of real knights’ play, they knew
naught; for they were of the common people, poor working-folk sunk to a
state but little above thraldom, and heard, in the guarded talk of their
elders, stories only of the robber knights’ dark acts, never of deeds
daring and true, such as belong to unspotted knighthood.
As the whole company lay in make-believe ambush among the shrubbery near
the edge of the plateau, Ludovic, the oldest boy, suddenly called to
them to look where, from the forest, a figure on horseback was coming
out upon the highway.
“See,” Ludovic cried. “Yonder comes a sightly knight. Look, Hansei, at
his shining armor and his glittering lance.”
“He is none of hereabout,” nodded Hansei, flashing his wide blue eyes
upon the gleaming figure. “My lord’s men-at-arms are none so shining
fair. Whence may he be, Ludovic?”
“How should I know?” asked Ludovic, testily, with the older boy’s
vexation when a youngster asks him that which he cannot answer.
“Small chance he bringeth good,” added he, “wherever he be from; but, in
any case, let us lie here until he passes.”
“He weareth a long, ruddy beard,” said keen-eyed Gretel, as a slight
bend in the road brought the knight full-facing the group. “Oh,
Ludovic,” she suddenly cried, “what if it should be Barbarossa, come to
help the land again?”
“Barbarossa!” exclaimed Ludovic, scornfully. “Old woman’s yarn! Mark ye,
Gretel, Barbarossa will never wake from his sleep. He has forgotten the
land. My father says God has forgotten it in his heaven, and how shall
Barbarossa remember it, sleeping in his stone chamber? No; it is the
truth: he will never come.”
“It is no long beard,” said Hansei, who had been watching eagerly. “’Tis
something that he bears before him at his saddle-peak.”
This was indeed true. The shining stranger, as the children could now
plainly see, held in front of him, on the saddle-peak, a good-sized
burden, though what it was the young watchers could not, for the
distance, make out. Nevertheless they could see that it was no common
burden; nor, in truth, was it any common figure that rode along the
highway. He was still some distance off, but already the children began
to hear the ring of the great horse’s iron hoofs on the stones of the
road, and the jangle of metal about the rider when sword and armor
clashed out their music to the time of trotting hoofs. As they watched
and harkened, their delight and wonder ever growing, they suddenly
caught, when the knight had now drawn much closer, the tuneful winding
of a horn.
[Illustration: “THE SHINING STRANGER HELD IN FRONT OF HIM A GOOD-SIZED
BURDEN.”]
The rider on the highway heard the sound as well; but, to the children’s
amaze, instead of pricking forward the faster, like a knight of hot
courage, he drew rein and turned half-way about, as minded to seek
shelter among the willows growing along-stream. There was no shelter
there, however, for man or horse, and on the other hand the narrowing
valley shut the road in, with no footing up the wooded bluff. When the
knight saw all this, he rode close into the thicket, and leaning from
his saddle, dropped, with wondrous gentleness, his burden among the
osiers.
“’Tis some treasure,” murmured Ludovic. “He fears the robber knights may
get it.”
By now there showed, coming down the pass, another knight. But the
second comer was no such goodly figure as the one below. His armor,
instead of gleaming in the sunlight, was tarnished and stained. His
helmet was black and unplumed, and upon his shield appeared the white
cross of a Crusader. Nevertheless, albeit of no glistening splendor, he
was of right knightly mien, and the horse he bestrode was a fine
creature, whose springy step seemed to scorn the road he trod.
“’Tis a knight from the castle,” the children said, and Hansei added:
“Mighty Herr Banf, by his white cross. Now there will be fighting.”
Down below, where the road widened a bit, winding with a bend of the
stream, the shining stranger sat his horse, waiting, lance at rest, to
see what the black knight would do. The moment the latter espied him he
left the matter in no doubt, but couched his lance and bore hard along
the road, as minded to make an end of the stranger; whereupon the latter
urged forward his own steed, and the two came together with a huge rush,
so that the crash of armor against armor rang out fierce and clear up
the pass, and both spears were shattered in the onset.
Then the two knights fought with their swords, dealing such blows as
seemed to the children watching enough to fell forest trees. They
wheeled their horses and dashed at each other again and again, until the
air was filled with the din of fighting, and the young watchers were
spellbound at the sight.
The shining stranger was a knight of valor, despite the unwillingness he
first showed. He laid on stoutly with his blade, so that more than once
his foe reeled in saddle; but the black knight came back each time with
greater fury, while the stranger and his horse were plainly weary.
Especially was this true of the horse. Eagerly he wheeled and sprang
forward to each fresh charge; but each time he dashed on more heavily,
and more than once he stumbled, so that his rider missed a blow, and was
like to have come to the ground through the empty swing of his sword.
At last the Crusader came on with mighty force, whereupon his foe
charged again to meet him; but the weary horse stumbled, caught himself,
staggered forward a pace or two, and came first to his knees, then
shoulder down, upon the rough stones of the road. The shining knight
pitched forward over his head, and lay quite still in the highway, while
the Crusader reined in beside him with threatening blade, and shouted to
him to cry “quits.” But the stranger neither moved nor spoke; so the
other lighted down from his horse and bent over him to see his face.
[Illustration: “PUTTING HORN TO LIP, HE BLEW FOUR GREAT BLASTS.”]
When he had done this he drew back, and putting horn to lip, blew four
great blasts, which he repeated again and again, waiting after each to
listen.
Presently an answering horn sounded in the distance, and a little later
a party of mounted men came dashing down the road from the castle. These
clustered about the fallen knight, and when one who seemed to be their
leader, and whom the children knew for Baron Everhardt himself, saw the
stranger’s face, he turned to the victor and for very joy smote him
between the iron-clad shoulders—from which the children thought that the
newcomer could have been no friend of their baron.
Then the men stooped and by main force lifted the limp figure, in its
jangling armor, and set it astride the great horse that stood stupidly
by, as wondering what had befallen his master. The latter made no move,
but lay forward on the good steed’s neck, and so they made him fast;
after doing which, the whole party turned their faces upward and rode
along toward the castle.
Not until the last sound died away up the pass did the children come out
from their maze and great awe. They drew back from the edge of the cliff
and looked wonderingly at one another, for it seemed to them as if years
must have gone by since they had begun their play on the plateau. At
last Ludovic spoke.
“The treasure is still among the osiers,” he said. “When night falls,
Hansei, thou and I will slip down across the stream and find it. There
may be great riches there. But no word about it, for if they knew it at
the castle we should lose our pains.”
Solemnly little Hansei agreed to Ludovic’s plan, and the children left
the plateau, climbing down the rocky goat-paths to their homes along the
cliff.