How Sir Otto changed his armour, and the Merchant
resolved to accompany him into the world.
When Otto awoke, the morning light was already beaming on his windows,
and the confused bustle of carriages and people in the streets
mingled strangely with his nightly dreams. When he had shaken them
off, he dressed as quickly as possible, and ran to the lattice;
for he believed, from the noise, that something extraordinary must
have occurred. In a short time, however, he became aware that the
disturbance, which appeared to him so remarkable, was nothing more than
what must be caused by the daily goings-on of life in a large town, of
which no one took any notice; or rather, it would have been a cause of
wonder and apprehension if the tumult had ceased. He bethought him
also, that so many large houses, most of which were equal in extent to
his father’s castle, must depend for their support on a great number of
inhabitants, among whom there must exist many different feelings and
dispositions, pain and pleasure, falsehood and sincerity, hatred and
love, whence arose the varied and discordant voices around him. In the
lonely fortress of Trautwangen, since the date of its building, how
much had been suffered and enjoyed! But here in the town many hundreds
of forsaken Berthas might weep, many wandering minstrels like Walter
tune their neglected harps, and many old men like Sir Hugh mourn for
the departure of their beloved sons.
During these thoughts he was interrupted by a servant of Theobaldo’s,
who came, bearing his armour and accoutrements, all brightly polished,
offering at the same time to assist the knight in bracing them on.
“You must forgive me, noble sir,” said he, while Sir Otto looked with
satisfaction on his glittering mail, “if you should remark on the
middle of the cuirass, right over the heart, one spot; it seems to be
from blood which has lately settled there; but, as it was neglected
for some hours, it has now turned into rust, which, as long as the
armour lasts, cannot be effaced. But certainly, noble sir, this is
not my fault.” “No, good friend,” answered Sir Otto; “it is, as thou
sayst, no fault of thine.” He thus repeated the squire’s words in a
slow mournful tone, fixing his eyes on the cuirass; whereon he indeed
perceived plainly the blood of Sir Heerdegen of Lichtenried, which
must have dropped on him as he was dressing his wounds. Henceforth he
could not bear the thoughts of wearing that hauberk, and, instead of
accepting the squire’s services, sent him away with a complimentary
message to his master Theobaldo. “He had already a servant who would
assist in putting on his armour, and who, though now absent, would soon
arrive.” But, when left alone, he only walked up and down the room, and
when he came near the cuirass, started from it as if it had been a
spectre; or, when at last he forced himself to touch it, he only tried
every art, which he had learned from his father and other warriors, in
order to efface the rust. But the longer he laboured the more convinced
he became, that such efforts were wholly in vain. “No!” said he, with
a deep sigh, “the stain will indeed remain there for ever.” Then he
strode up and down the room, more vexed and melancholy than ever.
At length he overheard, in the next apartment, loud expressions of
discontent, and even great wrath; then, fearful stamping on the floor,
and execrations. As the voice spoke only of armour, greaves, corslet,
and cuirass, he soon learned that all this anger arose because some
one had got a coat of mail which by no means fitted. Wishing to escape
from the conflict of his own feelings, Otto hastily rose, and threw
open the door, which led into his neighbour’s room; whereupon a knight,
half cased in armour, stepped up to him, and with equal impetuosity
demanded what he wanted. Both, however, stood silent for a space, and
gazing on each other; for Otto directly recognised the former opponent
of Folko de Montfaucon, namely, the Count Archimbald von Waldeck; while
the latter also seemed to remember the youthful witness of that combat,
and his overthrow. In a short time they came to mutual explanations,
and Count Archimbald said, “I am not vain enough to wish that you
should keep me in countenance, and also fall before the powerful or
fortunate arm of the French chevalier; on the contrary, I should be
heartily glad if you could again recover, for the beautiful Gabrielle,
her favourite ring; and if, to say the truth, there seems not much
probability of this, yet no one can tell what is in store for him
either of prosperous or evil fortune. You have my sincere good wishes
for your undertaking, which may yet realize all your hopes. For the
present, observe, I pray you, how the fates are tormenting me! In great
wrath, at the events of that fatal evening, I had rashly sworn that
I would never again wear my black and silver mail, with the eagle’s
head-piece; and, moreover, that I would ride without armour, until
I had even, thus defenceless, won a complete suit as the prize of a
successful combat. In this undertaking I have at last succeeded; but
mark only how pitiful must have been the limbs of my opponent! I cannot
force myself into the greaves nor the armlets; the pigmy gloves are
already thrown out at the window, and as for the corslet and cuirass, I
have indeed drawn them on, but, as you perceive, they will by no means
clasp together.” During these words, the knight heaved and writhed as
if he would force the hauberk to expand, and in so doing, tore asunder
some of the plates with a loud crash. Two squires who attended him
drew near to repair this misfortune, but he repulsed them angrily.
“It is all in vain,” said he, “therefore give yourselves no farther
trouble. I have only to throw off these vile pigmy accoutrements, and
for that purpose require no assistance.” Thereupon he tore open the
half-closed buckles and straps, and took off the corslet and cuirass,
throwing them on the ground with such violence, that the nails and
hooks started out upon the floor. He then cast melancholy looks on his
black and silver armour, which lay in a corner, and which Otto easily
recognized by the eagle’s beak on the visor. “When I wore these,”
said he, “I was yet a champion; now I am powerless, and shall never
again find a coat of mail that will fit these limbs.” Otto had not
forgotten the horror with which he had just before contemplated his
own armour, and said,--“My Lord Count, methinks we could now easily
help one another out of our distresses. If you have sworn never to
wear your harness, I have in the next room a suit which I would not
willingly use again; and this for reasons of which it is not fitting
that I should now speak farther than to assure you, that they are not
connected with shame or disgrace to the wearer.” “I should not expect
any less from you, young sir,” answered Sir Archimbald, with a pleasant
smile. “Well then, let us make an exchange,” said Otto. “Done, it is a
bargain,” replied Sir Archimbald; “I doubt not we shall be fitted; for
we are both framed like right old German heroes.” The silver mail was
immediately brought into the room; and each being assisted by a squire,
they were soon equipt, standing, as if transformed by magic, wondering
at each other. The now stern and wrathful visage of Sir Archimbald
contrasted strangely with the mild light reflected on it by Otto’s
bright silver harness; while the youth’s blooming, almost womanish
features were surmounted by the frightful helmet and visor in the shape
of an eagle’s head. At length they began to stride, with thundering
steps and threatening gestures, through the room, to try how their new
accoutrements fitted; and both being well satisfied, they shook hands,
Archimbald rejoicing in his heart that his black and silver mail, with
the eagle’s head, would yet once more come in the way of Sir Folko de
Montfaucon. “For,” said he, “you will at least make him fight a hard
battle, young knight of Trautwangen! Of this I require no other proof,
than the hardness of your grasp even now, and the noble warlike spirit
which appears in your whole demeanour.” They now took leave of each
other, like old and tried friends. Archimbald, in order to mount his
horse, and Otto in order to fulfil his promise to the young merchant.
The wealthy Theobaldo was now standing in his great vaulted warehouse,
with many clerks, servants, and customers, around him, ruling like a
petty prince, even by signs and single words, over all the business
of the day, and yet not disdaining to put his own hand to the work
in cases of necessity. Thus, on Otto’s arrival, he was employed in
measuring out some pieces of very rich gold embroidered cloth; on
completing which, he perceived the knight, without recognising him in
his black armour, for Otto had pulled down his visor. Notwithstanding
this, Theobaldo felt attracted by him, like iron by the magnet;
for there was indeed a share of iron (if one may so speak) in the
courageous heart of the merchant. “Have you any commands, noble sir?”
said he to the youth; “if so, please to inform me, and you shall be
served before all other customers.” Hereupon Otto threw open his visor,
and the merchant started back with astonishment and admiration. “Good
Heaven!” cried he, “how much nobler and more dignified are your looks
now than even yesterday! and must I thus appear before you with the
pitiful measuring rod in my hand?” Therewith he threw away the despised
implement with such force, that it struck against a pillar, and broke
into a hundred pieces, though as it was made of ivory and gold; the
attendants thought it could never have been their master’s design
to destroy it in such manner. They therefore ran and picked up the
fragments, anxiously informing him, that it would be very possible
to have it again repaired, and made as good as ever. The merchant,
however, took no notice of these words, but hastily led the knight up
stairs into his house.
On their entrance into a retired and richly furnished chamber,
Theobaldo took his guest by both hands, bent over them with a deep
blush of anxiety and ardour on his countenance, and said,--“For
Heaven’s sake, Sir Otto von Trautwangen, refuse not the earnest
entreaty which I am now about to make to you. Allow me also to wear
armour, and as your friend, your servant and squire, or in any way that
you are pleased to appoint, to go with you into the world, and share
in all your dangers.” Otto looked at him with wonder, then reminded
him of his rich merchandize, his brilliant and luxurious house,
insisting that his stars had destined him to play a very different
part in the world from that of a knight-errant. “Say not so,” answered
the merchant vehemently. “I am by birth a Milanese, and it has been
proved already on the shields of German warriors, even against the
attacks of emperors, that our citizens are not ignorant of warfare.
There survives yet somewhat of the old Roman spirit among us. Besides,
you must not judge the party at our last night’s banquet by their
conversation alone. You perceived too, that I was dissatisfied and
wearied therewith, though more for your sake than my own, because
I perceived that you misunderstood them, and was offended.” “Nay,”
answered Sir Otto, “I took no offence; but, as so much was said of gain
and loss, of goods and prices, it appeared to my disordered fantasy as
if the festivous entertainment which I then enjoyed, and the night’s
lodging which had been promised me, were also like goods which I had
purchased with the blood of the unfortunate Sir Heerdegen. Thus I was
obliged to retire. I give you this explanation the more freely, because
I have now recovered from the wild dreams by which I was then haunted,
and against you and your friends have not one word of just complaint.”
“You are in the right,” answered Theobaldo; “the various characters of
mankind in this world may indeed be compared to the varied flowers,
plants, and trees of the forest, which all differ from each other,
and yet all contribute to one purpose. Their conversation no doubt
differs from yours, even as their dresses contrast with your glittering
armour; yet, in time of need, they are not found destitute of honour,
generosity, and courage. You are in the right, therefore, not to
despise these merchant citizens, although I for my part have resolved
to desert them and try my fortune with you.” “Nay, dear Theobaldo,”
replied Sir Otto, “allow me to dissuade you from this design. You are
older, and have far more experience and judgment than I am possessed
of. How then can I become your leader and instructor, or by what means
could I compensate to you the loss of all those advantages which you
enjoy here?” “Well,” answered Theobaldo, “if, as you say, I have more
experience and judgment, you may with the less hesitation allow to me
my own free choice in this matter.” “Besides,” resumed Sir Otto, “from
the friendship I bear to you, I should be deeply grieved if you meet
with any injury. But how can that be avoided, since you have probably
never yet been accustomed to the use of the sword or lance?” Theobaldo
looked at him with a good-humoured half-ironical smile, then turned
round, and opened the door into a neighbouring cabinet, wherein was
visible a great collection of shirts of mail, helmets, crossbows,
targets, and battle-axes. “These are but the accoutrements of simple
horsemen, not of knights,” said Theobaldo; “but such weapons I am well
able to wield and use to good purpose.” Thereupon he took from the
wall a handsome cross-bow, bent it with great skill and strength, and
laid an arrow in the rest; then, opening the window, “Mark,” said he,
“the knotted branch in yonder oak-tree!” Scarcely allowing himself
a moment to take aim, he sent his arrow with such force and unerring
accuracy, that it not only struck the branch, but penetrated so far
into the tree, that only the trembling feathers were now visible.
Thereafter Theobaldo took up a heavy battle-axe, and exercised himself
with it against a strong shirt of mail, exhibiting such power and
rapidity of arm, that Otto could not help expressing his admiration.
“Are you now willing that I should go with you?” said the merchant,
with a confident smile. “Ay, truly,” answered the knight; “and from my
heart I can affirm, that you are well able to maintain, by your deeds
as a soldier, all that you have before alleged in words. Where in all
the world could I find a better companion? But, alas! Theobaldo, since
you are not of knightly birth, how can we venture to speak of your
wearing golden spurs? and if you are never to become a knight, why
should you needlessly subject yourself to the humiliation of being a
squire to such a humble unpractised warrior as I am?” At these words,
a dark shade passed for a moment over Theobaldo’s countenance; but he
answered firmly,--“Let us speak no farther of the difference of ranks.
I wear arms, ride a good horse, and am content to follow you. Young men
of knightly birth strive for golden spurs. Young citizens aim but at
the wreath of victory. When in your society I have obtained skill and
experience in warfare, I may yet lead on the banners of my native city,
Milan, to the battle-field, and then golden spurs will be forgotten!”
“I had no thought of offending you,” said Otto, somewhat surprised;
but immediately thereafter the dark shade passed away from Theobaldo’s
features, and his looks were again gay and smiling as the vernal sky
that shone above them. He now accompanied the knight to a luxurious
breakfast, which was prepared in the banquet-hall. Indeed the whole
day was spent in feasting and music; though as the merchant was often
called away on matters of importance, on which he seemed to bestow
great attention, Otto began almost to believe, that, as to his riding
out like a knight-errant, he had only been in jest. Yet at night, when
Theobaldo led him to his apartment (for he had been obliged to promise
that he would pass the night there) he found that this apprehension was
groundless. “To-morrow before sunrise,” said the merchant, “Sir Knight
of Trautwangen, forget not that I shall be ready to attend you. I have
already appointed a trust-worthy curator over my possessions in this
town, and made every needful arrangement.”
In the morning, before daylight, Sir Otto was in the stable, engaged in
saddling and bridling his charger; in which task he was assisted by an
active youth in a complete horseman’s armour. As they did not speak, it
was not until the latter came out into the morning twilight, and sprung
lightly on the back of a chesnut-coloured Polish horse, that the
knight recognised Theobaldo. Smiling on each other, they shook hands
like old and tried friends, then trotted on merrily to the town-gates,
while the sun, bright and jocund, as if to welcome the two happy
youths, began to shed his long slanting radiance over the landscape.