How Sir Heerdegen returned to the Castle of Trautwangen,
and of the wonderful Lady Minnatrost.
Thus Otto and his companion continued to pursue their way, crossing
ere long the frontiers of the knight’s father-land, and meeting with
various adventures in the kingdom of France, among people to whose
language they were yet little accustomed. Meanwhile, how different
was the life now led by the inhabitants left in the old castle of
Trautwangen! A third party had indeed broken on the lonely hours of
Sir Hugh and the forsaken Bertha, but his presence only made the
scene more gloomy than ever. This was Sir Heerdegen of Lichtenried,
who, notwithstanding his wounds, had hastened onwards to visit his
sister, and by this untimely exertion, had brought on himself a
fearful illness. In a chamber not far from the great hall was placed
the couch of the unfortunate Sir Heerdegen, in order that Bertha might
attend him, and yet be near to the old knight. It was indeed needful
that he and Bertha should console each other; for in the delirium of
his fever, the youth had unfortunately betrayed all which he would in
health have so gladly concealed; they had learned from whose hands,
and on what grounds, he had received his dangerous wounds. Thereafter,
Bertha often wept so bitterly, and blushed so deeply, that her tears
might be compared to the morning dew, brightened by the red gleams of
the east. On the other hand, Sir Hugh fixed his eyes on the ground in
gloomy meditation, drawing, from this first unhappy combat of his son,
the darkest anticipations of the future. Now and then, however, his
confidence in the goodness and mercy of Providence would return, and a
smile would steal over his features, though he spoke no words by which
the by-standers could have guessed at this change in his feelings; only
he repeated sometimes that rhyme of the old minstrel, which Otto had
remembered during the mysterious night, when he watched his armour in
the chapel:
“Dark night precedes the morn,
So grief may joyance bring,
And death leads through the wintry grave
To life’s eternal spring.”
Sir Hugh dared not enter the apartment of his nephew; for the latter,
in the wildness of his delirium, always addressed the old man as if
he had been Otto von Trautwangen, commanding him in a stern angry
voice to leave the room, otherwise he would throw at his head all the
scorching firebrands that were now heaped upon his own. At such times
he indeed grappled violently at the bandage which was tied over his
wounds; and his uncle, with mournful aspect, and sighing deeply, came
back to the hall, passing by that heavy oak-pannelled door, at which,
alas! the blooming happy countenances of Bertha and Otto never more
presented themselves. However, when the wounded youth had only his
beloved sister beside him, especially in the night hours, when the room
was illuminated by a single lamp placed in a corner, he was tranquil
and happy, so that, now and then, he could even tell her long stories;
among which she once heard from him the narrative which here follows:--
“On the shores of the North Sea there lies a country named East
Friesland, where, even at this day, there are endless dissensions
between the princes and their vassals; the former insisting that every
one should blindly submit to their sovereign will and pleasure, while
the latter no less vehemently maintain, that their opinions should be
consulted on all subjects. Thus, through the whole land, there are
constant insurrections and tumults, even like those, dear Bertha, which
now torment the brain of your wounded brother. Yet in East Friesland
there is a wondrous castle stationed on a rock, whence there beams, far
and wide, a pale tranquil light, the reflection as it were of the moon
and stars, whose radiance falls ever brightly and unbroken on these
lofty towers. In the castle dwells a female descendant of that ancient
race named the Druden. They were powerful wizards and magicians; and
such too is this female descendant with whom we claim relationship;
for she is our aunt. Her name is the Lady Minnatrost,[1] importing,
that by love she affords consolation to unfortunate lovers; and all
day long she boils wonder-working flowers and roots in a kettle,
which is made of pure gold. I had one evening lost my way, and drew
up my horse’s reins when opposite to her lofty castle, which proudly
diffuses its light over all that country, which is elsewhere flat and
level. Tired as I then was, and in need of refreshment, I felt as if
some mysterious obstacle always lay in my road when I wished to spur
my horse up the steep acclivity. The castle too was so silent, and so
wholly unknown to me, that I felt an unwonted dread of approaching it.
Thus, while I stood still, and doubted what course I ought to take, lo!
there came riding at a rapid pace, along the plain, a well-accoutred
knight, bearing in his arms a slender female form, who clung to him at
once, lovingly and timidly. As they passed by I heard her sing,--
“Spur, spur thy steed, Sir Frederick dear,
The silent Druda’s towers are near;”
to which the knight answered,--
“What need of Druda, dearest life?
Already we are man and wife.”
“Just as these rhymes were uttered, there sprung out from among the
thickets a number of armed men, who, as I perceived by their dresses,
were of low rank. A tall powerful youth rushed up, and, seizing
the knight’s horse by the reins, called aloud, ‘Villain, villain,
whither art thou bearing my sister,’--the rest, meanwhile wielding
great halberts, and other weapons, made a circle round the lovers.
The knight, however, on the first attack, had drawn his sword, and
now said, ‘Not so fast, base churl! She loves me, and I love her.
What business is it of thine, if thy chief is pleased to demand thy
sister? Knows’t thou not that I am Sir Frederick von Edekon?’ ‘In a
few seconds more thou shalt be but his ghost,’ answered the youth,
‘if thou dost not instantly give back this maiden to her family.’
Thereupon the knight struck him a blow with his sword, and a furious
battle commenced. As I perceived very well that the maiden wished to
remain with her lover, I assisted him, and attacked the countrymen in a
manner which they had little expected. Notwithstanding their courageous
resistance, the victory would soon have been ours; but, in the midst
of our conflict, Heaven knows how it could happen, but we all heard the
sound of a lattice opened in the castle that stood above us, and, for
reasons inscrutable, found ourselves irresistibly impelled to pause
in our encounter, and look upwards for whatever should present itself
at the window. Then, behold, the full moon shone calm and bright on
the lattice, and we all saw the figure of the Lady Minnatrost, tall
in stature, clad in a white garment, and with her right hand held up
threateningly towards the stars. At this apparition a cold shuddering
vibrated through our frames. We remained for a long while silent and
motionless, till at length she spoke, ‘Lift not again your swords in
vain and impious contention! I know that there is one among you who
is my nephew, and is named Heerdegen von Lichtenried. He is here a
stranger, but, nevertheless, he shall place that maiden before him on
his horse, and shall bring her to me in my castle. The rest shall go
peaceably home for this night; but in three days let her bridegroom
and brother come also to me.’ All was done as she had commanded. Though
the maiden wept bitterly, though the knight and her brother gnashed
their teeth with rage, yet no one felt inclined to pass a night under
the roof of that ghastly white-robed Druda! But it seemed as if her
will were now irresistible, and every one must submit in silence.
Without saying a word, therefore, the combatants laid down their
swords, and, in the same mood of humble obedience, I brought the maiden
to the castle.
“What I found there, dearest Bertha, I am not able to describe in
many words, and truly, where all is strange and supernatural, words
fail to afford any adequate impression. But look on those pale rays
of your nightly lamp that now flicker around us; look at your own
pale and saint-like face in the mirror, and even here you may behold
a gleam,--the tenderest and loveliest,--of that light which was shed
all about the castle of the Lady Minnatrost. I durst not enter her
habitation; she commanded me to wait under the portico. ‘It will
not be unpleasant to you,’ said she, ‘to pass the night here, half
sheltered, half in the open air. There are no tempests to annoy you,
and if rain falls, it is but a mild dew from heaven, which refreshes
without injuring the limberest flowers. Such too will be your tears,’
added she, turning to the maiden, ‘and, after transient showers, the
sunrise of joy will be brighter and lovelier.’ In truth, I perceived
that the damsel immediately ceased to weep, after she had looked on the
calm, thoughtful features of the Druda, illumined as they now were by
the moonshine. Both then retired into the castle, and soon thereafter
I heard a delightful harmony of harps and flutes sounding from its
chambers. The music was slow, soft, and of exquisite modulation,
fitted, as I could well imagine, to lull the unhappy maiden to
forgetfulness and sleep. Thereafter the Lady Minnatrost came to me in
the portico, bringing with her a golden goblet filled with wine, also
a massive salver with exquisite viands. She took her place near me, and
related how she was our mother’s sister, and how for many years there
had belonged to her family a store of deep and miraculous knowledge,
whose mysteries were yet all sanctioned by our holy religion; finally,
how she believed herself to have been chosen to reside here for the
guidance and instruction of a wild disorderly people. These stories
were long and marvellous, lasting, indeed, through the whole of that
moonlight night. Sometimes I listened with a kind of mysterious dread,
but for the most part my feelings were calm and tranquil, so that I
could almost think that I was once more a child, that my mother rocked
me in her arms, and told me fairy tales as she had done of yore.
Towards the dawn of day the Druda left me, saying, ‘Thou wilt probably
remain here, in order to learn how these adventures will end, and may
stay without fear of any danger.’ Thereafter I fell asleep calmly, as
if I had been under the protection of a mother’s roof.
“On the following day, I perceived now and then the Lady Minnatrost
walking with that lovelorn damsel on the castle ramparts, among tall
white flowers that grew there, and from whose blossoms, as they
waved in the morning air, there exhaled the sweetest odours. Often,
however, the maiden wept bitterly, and called aloud for Sir Frederick
von Edekon. At such time the Druda spoke not; she offered neither
consolations nor promises, but only fixed on the weeping girl her
thoughtful eyes, whose light was always mild and soothing as the
moonbeams, or broke off a blooming sprig from the white flowers that
grew there, and with it fanned her burning cheeks. At last too she sung
old simple ballads, till the listener was calmed, and even smiled with
wondrous cheerfulness. Such too was the conduct of the white-robed lady
every time when the damsel’s brother and the knight appeared, and with
threatening looks and angry words demanded her release. The Druda only
smiled, and looked on them in silence; whereupon their angry words died
away on their lips like a mournful sigh, or changed into humble and
patient entreaties. After they had thus come three times, they were on
the ninth day all become mild, submissive, and pious. Then the Lady
Minnatrost gave them back the now smiling damsel, who soon afterwards
was led to the altar, in peace and unanimity, betwixt her brother and
the knight. Thereafter they all lived happily together; nor were there
ever dissensions any more betwixt that chief and his vassals.
“Many other stories are told in that neighbourhood of the consolation
which the wonderful lady of the castle has afforded to those in
distress, especially to victims of unfortunate love; so that she well
deserves the name that is bestowed on her, since her aid has always
been afforded in the spirit of love and charity, not in that of
violence or constraint.”
FOOTNOTES:
[1] _Minne_ (pronounced _minna_) is an obsolete word for _love_, and
_trost_ means _consolation_.