Affairs that walk
(As they say spirits do) at midnight, have
In them a wilder nature than the business
That seeks dispatch by day.
_Henry VIII. Act V._
The approach of the steward was now boldly expected by the little
party. Arthur, flattered at once and elevated by the firmness which
Anne had shown when this person's arrival was announced, hastily
considered the part which he was to act in the approaching scene, and
prudently determined to avoid all active and personal interference,
till he should observe from the demeanour of Anne that such was likely
to be useful or agreeable to her. He resumed his place, therefore, at
a distant part of the board, on which their meal had been lately
spread, and remained there, determined to act in the manner Anne's
behaviour should suggest as most prudent and fitting,--veiling, at the
same time, the most acute internal anxiety, by an appearance of that
deferential composure, which one of inferior rank adopts when admitted
to the presence of a superior. Anne, on her part, seemed to prepare
herself for an interview of interest. An air of conscious dignity
succeeded the extreme agitation which she had so lately displayed,
and, busying herself with some articles of female work, she also
seemed to expect with tranquillity the visit to which her attendant
was disposed to attach so much alarm.
A step was heard upon the stair, hurried and unequal, as that of some
one in confusion as well as haste; the door flew open, and Ital
Schreckenwald entered.
This person, with whom the details given to the elder Philipson by the
Landamman Biederman have made the reader in some degree acquainted,
was a tall, well-made, soldierly looking man. His dress, like that of
persons of rank at the period in Germany, was more varied in colour,
more cut and ornamented, slashed and jagged, than the habit worn in
France and England. The never-failing hawk's feather decked his cap,
secured with a medal of gold, which served as a clasp. His doublet was
of buff, for defence, but _laid down_, as it was called in the
tailor's craft, with rich lace on each seam, and displaying on the
breast a golden chain, the emblem of his rank in the Baron's
household. He entered with rather a hasty step, and busy and offended
look, and said, somewhat rudely, "Why, how now, young lady--wherefore
this? Strangers in the castle at this period of night!"
Anne of Geierstein, though she had been long absent from her native
country, was not ignorant of its habits and customs, and knew the
haughty manner in which all who were noble exerted their authority
over their dependants.
"Are you a vassal of Arnheim, Ital Schreckenwald, and do you speak to
the Lady of Arnheim in her own castle with an elevated voice, a saucy
look, and bonneted withal? Know your place; and, when you have
demanded pardon for your insolence, and told your errand in such
terms as befit your condition and mine, I may listen to what you have
to say."
Schreckenwald's hand, in spite of him, stole to his bonnet, and
uncovered his haughty brow.
"Noble lady," he said, in a somewhat milder tone, "excuse me if my
haste be unmannerly, but the alarm is instant. The soldiery of the
Rhinegrave have mutinied, plucked down the banners of their master,
and set up an independent ensign, which they call the pennon of St.
Nicholas, under which they declare that they will maintain peace with
God, and war with all the world. This castle cannot escape them, when
they consider that the first course to maintain themselves must be to
take possession of some place of strength. You must up then, and ride
with the very peep of dawn. For the present, they are busy with the
wine-skins of the peasants, but when they wake in the morning they
will unquestionably march hither; and you may chance to fall into the
hands of those who will think of the terrors of the castle of Arnheim
as the figments of a fairy tale, and laugh at its mistress's
pretensions to honour and respect."
"Is it impossible to make resistance? The castle is strong," said the
young lady, "and I am unwilling to leave the house of my fathers
without attempting somewhat in our defence."
"Five hundred men," said Schreckenwald, "might garrison Arnheim,
battlement and tower. With a less number it were madness to attempt to
keep such an extent of walls; and how to get twenty soldiers together,
I am sure I know not.--So, having now the truth of the story, let me
beseech you to dismiss this guest,--too young, I think, to be the
inmate of a lady's bower,--and I will point to him the nighest way out
of the castle; for this is a strait in which we must all be contented
with looking to our own safety."
"And whither is it that you propose to go?" said the Baroness,
continuing to maintain, in respect to Ital Schreckenwald, the complete
and calm assertion of absolute superiority, to which the seneschal
gave way with such marks of impatience as a fiery steed exhibits under
the management of a complete cavalier.
"To Strasburg, I propose to go,--that is, if it so please you,--with
such slight escort as I can get hastily together by daybreak. I trust
we may escape being observed by the mutineers; or, if we fall in with
a party of stragglers, I apprehend but little difficulty in forcing my
way."
"And wherefore do you prefer Strasburg as a place of asylum?"
"Because I trust we shall there meet your excellency's father, the
noble Count Albert of Geierstein."
"It is well," said the young lady.--"You also, I think, Seignor
Philipson, spoke of directing your course to Strasburg. If it consist
with your convenience, you may avail yourself of the protection of my
escort as far as that city, where you expect to meet your father."
It will readily be believed that Arthur cheerfully bowed assent to a
proposal which was to prolong their remaining in society together, and
might possibly, as his romantic imagination suggested, afford him an
opportunity, on a road beset with dangers, to render some service of
importance.
Ital Schreckenwald attempted to remonstrate.
"Lady!--lady!"--he said, with some marks of impatience.
"Take breath and leisure, Schreckenwald," said Anne, "and you will be
more able to express yourself with distinctness, and with respectful
propriety."
The impatient vassal muttered an oath betwixt his teeth, and answered
with forced civility,--"Permit me to state, that our case requires we
should charge ourselves with the care of no one but you. We shall be
few enough for your defence, and I cannot permit any stranger to
travel with us."
"If," said Arthur, "I conceived that I was to be a useless incumbrance
on the retreat of this noble young lady, worlds, Sir Squire, would not
induce me to accept her offer. But I am neither child nor woman--I am
a full-grown man, and ready to show such good service as manhood may
in defence of your lady."
"If we must not challenge your valour and ability, young sir," said
Schreckenwald, "who shall answer for your fidelity?"
"To question that elsewhere," said Arthur, "might be dangerous."
But Anne interfered between them. "We must straight to rest, and
remain prompt for alarm, perhaps even before the hour of dawn.
Schreckenwald, I trust to your care for due watch and ward.--You have
men enough at least for that purpose.--And hear and mark--It is my
desire and command, that this gentleman be accommodated with lodgings
here for this night, and that he travel with us to-morrow. For this I
will be responsible to my father, and your part is only to obey my
commands. I have long had occasion to know both the young man's father
and himself, who were ancient guests of my uncle, the Landamman. On
the journey you will keep the youth beside you, and use such courtesy
to him as your rugged temper will permit."
Ital Schreckenwald intimated his acquiescence with a look of
bitterness, which it were vain to attempt to describe. It expressed
spite, mortification, humbled pride, and reluctant submission. He did
submit, however, and ushered young Philipson into a decent apartment
with a bed, which the fatigue and agitation of the preceding day
rendered very acceptable.
Notwithstanding the ardour with which Arthur expected the rise of the
next dawn, his deep repose, the fruit of fatigue, held him until the
reddening of the east, when the voice of Schreckenwald exclaimed, "Up,
Sir Englishman, if you mean to accomplish your boast of loyal service.
It is time we were in the saddle, and we shall tarry for no
sluggards."
Arthur was on the floor of the apartment, and dressed, in almost an
instant, not forgetting to put on his shirt of mail, and assume
whatever weapons seemed most fit to render him an efficient part of
the convoy. He next hastened to seek out the stable, to have his horse
in readiness; and descending for that purpose into the under story of
the lower mass of buildings, he was wandering in search of the way
which led to the offices, when the voice of Annette Veilchen softly
whispered, "This way, Seignor Philipson; I would speak with you."
The Swiss maiden, at the same time, beckoned him into a small room,
where he found her alone.
"Were you not surprised," she said, "to see my lady queen it so over
Ital Schreckenwald, who keeps every other person in awe with his stern
looks and cross words? But the air of command seems so natural to her,
that, instead of being a baroness, she might have been an empress. It
must come of birth, I think, after all, for I tried last night to take
state upon me, after the fashion of my mistress, and, would you think
it, the brute Schreckenwald threatened to throw me out of the window?
But if ever I see Martin Sprenger again, I'll know if there is
strength in a Swiss arm, and virtue in a Swiss quarter-staff.--But
here I stand prating, and my lady wishes to see you for a minute ere
we take to horse."
"Your lady?" said Arthur, starting. "Why did you lose an instant? why
not tell me before?"
"Because I was only to keep you here till she came, and--here she is."
Anne of Geierstein entered, fully attired for her journey. Annette,
always willing to do as she would wish to be done by, was about to
leave the apartment, when her mistress, who had apparently made up her
mind concerning what she had to do or say, commanded her positively to
remain.
"I am sure," she said, "Seignor Philipson will rightly understand the
feelings of hospitality--I will say of friendship--which prevented my
suffering him to be expelled from my castle last night, and which have
determined me this morning to admit of his company on the somewhat
dangerous road to Strasburg. At the gate of that town we part, I to
join my father, you to place yourself under the direction of yours.
From that moment intercourse between us ends, and our remembrance of
each other must be as the thoughts which we pay to friends deceased."
"Tender recollections," said Arthur, passionately, "more dear to our
bosoms than all we have surviving upon earth."
"Not a word in that tone," answered the maiden. "With night delusion
should end, and reason awaken with dawning. One word more--Do not
address me on the road; you may, by doing so, expose me to vexatious
and insulting suspicion, and yourself to quarrels and peril.--Farewell,
our party is ready to take horse."
She left the apartment, where Arthur remained for a moment deeply
bewildered in grief and disappointment. The patience, nay, even
favour, with which Anne of Geierstein had, on the previous night,
listened to his passion, had not prepared him for the terms of reserve
and distance which she now adopted towards him. He was ignorant that
noble maids, if feeling or passion has for a moment swayed them from
the strict path of principle and duty, endeavour to atone for it by
instantly returning, and severely adhering, to the line from which
they have made a momentary departure. He looked mournfully on Annette,
who, as she had been in the room before Anne's arrival, took the
privilege of remaining a minute after her departure; but he read no
comfort in the glances of the confidant, who seemed as much
disconcerted as himself.
"I cannot imagine what hath happened to her," said Annette; "to me she
is kind as ever, but to every other person about her she plays
countess and baroness with a witness; and now she is begun to
tyrannise over her own natural feelings--and--if this be greatness,
Annette Veilchen trusts always to remain the penniless Swiss girl; she
is mistress of her own freedom, and at liberty to speak with her
bachelor when she pleases, so as religion and maiden modesty suffer
nothing in the conversation. Oh, a single daisy twisted with content
into one's hair, is worth all the opals in India, if they bind us to
torment ourselves and other people, or hinder us from speaking our
mind, when our heart is upon our tongue. But never fear, Arthur; for
if she has the cruelty to think of forgetting you, you may rely on one
friend who, while she has a tongue, and Anne has ears, will make it
impossible for her to do so."
So saying, away tripped Annette, having first indicated to Philipson
the passage by which he would find the lower court of the castle.
There his steed stood ready, among about twenty others. Twelve of
these were accoutred with war saddles, and frontlets of proof, being
intended for the use of as many cavaliers, or troopers, retainers of
the family of Arnheim, whom the seneschal's exertions had been able to
collect on the spur of the occasion. Two palfreys, somewhat
distinguished by their trappings, were designed for Anne of Geierstein
and her favourite female attendant. The other menials, chiefly boys
and women servants, had inferior horses. At a signal made, the
troopers took their lances and stood by their steeds, till the females
and menials were mounted and in order; they then sprang into their
saddles and began to move forward, slowly and with great precaution.
Schreckenwald led the van, and kept Arthur Philipson close beside
him. Anne and her attendant were in the centre of the little body,
followed by the unwarlike train of servants, while two or three
experienced cavaliers brought up the rear, with strict orders to guard
against surprise.
On their being put into motion, the first thing which surprised Arthur
was, that the horses' hoofs no longer sent forth the sharp and ringing
sound arising from the collision of iron and flint, and as the morning
light increased he could perceive that the fetlock and hoof of every
steed, his own included, had been carefully wrapped around with a
sufficient quantity of wool, to prevent the usual noise which
accompanied their motions. It was a singular thing to behold the
passage of the little body of cavalry down the rocky road which led
from the castle, unattended with the noise which we are disposed to
consider as inseparable from the motions of horse, the absence of
which seemed to give a peculiar and almost an unearthly appearance to
the cavalcade.
They passed in this manner the winding path which led from the castle
of Arnheim to the adjacent village, which, as was the ancient feudal
custom, lay so near the fortress that its inhabitants, when summoned
by their lord, could instantly repair for its defence. But it was at
present occupied by very different inhabitants, the mutinous soldiers
of the Rhinegrave. When the party from Arnheim approached the entrance
of the village, Schreckenwald made a signal to halt, which was
instantly obeyed by his followers. He then rode forward in person to
reconnoitre, accompanied by Arthur Philipson, both moving with the
utmost steadiness and precaution. The deepest silence prevailed in
the deserted streets. Here and there a soldier was seen, seemingly
designed for a sentinel, but uniformly fast asleep.
"The swinish mutineers!" said Schreckenwald; "a fair night-watch they
keep, and a beautiful morning's rouse would I treat them with, were
not the point to protect yonder peevish wench.--Halt thou here,
stranger, while I ride back and bring them on--there is no danger."
Schreckenwald left Arthur as he spoke, who, alone in the street of a
village filled with banditti, though they were lulled into temporary
insensibility, had no reason to consider his case as very comfortable.
The chorus of a wassel song, which some reveller was trolling over in
his sleep; or, in its turn, the growling of some village cur, seemed
the signal for an hundred ruffians to start up around him. But in the
space of two or three minutes, the noiseless cavalcade, headed by Ital
Schreckenwald, again joined him, and followed their leader, observing
the utmost precaution not to give an alarm. All went well till they
reached the farther end of the village, where, although the
Baaren-hauter[4] who kept guard was as drunk as his companions on
duty, a large shaggy dog which lay beside him was more vigilant. As
the little troop approached, the animal sent forth a ferocious yell,
loud enough to have broken the rest of the Seven Sleepers, and which
effectually dispelled the slumbers of its master. The soldier snatched
up his carabine and fired, he knew not well at what, or for what
reason. The ball, however, struck Arthur's horse under him, and, as
the animal fell, the sentinel rushed forward to kill or make prisoner
the rider.
"Haste on, haste on, men of Arnheim! care for nothing but the young
lady's safety," exclaimed the leader of the band.
"Stay, I command you;--aid the stranger, on your lives!"--said Anne,
in a voice which, usually gentle and meek, she now made heard by those
around her, like the note of a silver clarion. "I will not stir till
he is rescued."
Schreckenwald had already spurred his horse for flight; but,
perceiving Anne's reluctance to follow him, he dashed back, and
seizing a horse which, bridled and saddled, stood picketed near him,
he threw the reins to Arthur Philipson; and pushing his own horse, at
the same time, betwixt the Englishman and the soldier, he forced the
latter to quit the hold he had on his person. In an instant Philipson
was again mounted, when, seizing a battle-axe which hung at the
saddle-bow of his new steed, he struck down the staggering sentinel,
who was endeavouring again to seize upon him. The whole troop then
rode off at a gallop, for the alarm began to grow general in the
village; some soldiers were seen coming out of their quarters, and
others were beginning to get upon horseback. Before Schreckenwald and
his party had ridden a mile, they heard more than once the sound of
bugles; and when they arrived upon the summit of an eminence
commanding a view of the village, their leader, who, during the
retreat, had placed himself in the rear of his company, now halted to
reconnoitre the enemy they had left behind them. There was bustle and
confusion in the street, but there did not appear to be any pursuit;
so that Schreckenwald followed his route down the river, with speed
and activity indeed, but with so much steadiness, at the same time, as
not to distress the slowest horse of his party.
When they had ridden two hours and more, the confidence of their
leader was so much augmented, that he ventured to command a halt at
the edge of a pleasant grove, which served to conceal their number,
whilst both riders and horses took some refreshment, for which purpose
forage and provisions had been borne along with them. Ital
Schreckenwald, having held some communication with the Baroness,
continued to offer their travelling companion a sort of surly
civility. He invited him to partake of his own mess, which was indeed
little different from that which was served out to the other troopers,
but was seasoned with a glass of wine from a more choice flask.
"To your health, brother," he said; "if you tell this day's story
truly, you will allow that I was a true comrade to you two hours
since, in riding through the village of Arnheim."
"I will never deny it, fair sir," said Philipson, "and I return you
thanks for your timely assistance; alike, whether it sprang from your
mistress's order, or your own good-will."
"Ho! ho! my friend," said Schreckenwald, laughing, "you are a
philosopher, and can try conclusions while your horse lies rolling
above you, and a Baaren-hauter aims his sword at your throat?--Well,
since your wit hath discovered so much, I care not if you know, that I
should not have had much scruple to sacrifice twenty such smooth-faced
gentlemen as yourself, rather than the young Baroness of Arnheim had
incurred the slightest danger."
"The propriety of the sentiment," said Philipson, "is so undoubtedly
correct, that I subscribe to it, even though it is something
discourteously expressed towards myself."
In making this reply, the young man, provoked at the insolence of
Schreckenwald's manner, raised his voice a little. The circumstance
did not escape observation, for, on the instant, Annette Veilchen
stood before them, with her mistress's commands on them both to speak
in whispers, or rather to be altogether silent.
"Say to your mistress that I am mute," said Philipson.
"Our mistress, the Baroness, says," continued Annette, with an
emphasis on the title, to which she began to ascribe some talismanic
influence,--"the Baroness, I tell you, says, that silence much
concerns our safety, for it were most hazardous to draw upon this
little fugitive party the notice of any passengers who may pass along
the road during the necessary halt; and so, sirs, it is the Baroness's
request that you will continue the exercise of your teeth as fast as
you can, and forbear that of your tongues till you are in a safer
condition."
"My lady is wise," answered Ital Schreckenwald, "and her maiden is
witty. I drink, Mrs. Annette, in a cup of Rudersheimer, to the
continuance of her sagacity, and of your amiable liveliness of
disposition. Will it please you, fair mistress, to pledge me in this
generous liquor?"
"Out, thou German wine-flask!--Out, thou eternal swill-flagon!--Heard
you ever of a modest maiden who drank wine before she had dined?"
"Remain without the generous inspiration then," said the German, "and
nourish thy satirical vein on sour cider or acid whey."
A short space having been allowed to refresh themselves, the little
party again mounted their horses, and travelled with such speed, that
long before noon they arrived at the strongly fortified town of Kehl,
opposite to Strasburg, on the eastern bank of the Rhine.
It is for local antiquaries to discover whether the travellers crossed
from Kehl to Strasburg by the celebrated bridge of boats which at
present maintains the communication across the river, or whether they
were wafted over by some other mode of transportation. It is enough
that they passed in safety, and had landed on the other side,
where--whether she dreaded that he might forget the charge she had
given him, that here they were to separate, or whether she thought
that something more might be said in the moment of parting--the young
Baroness, before remounting her horse, once more approached Arthur
Philipson, who too truly guessed the tenor of what she had to say.
"Gentle stranger," she said, "I must now bid you farewell. But first
let me ask if you know whereabouts you are to seek your father?"
"In an inn called the Flying Stag," said Arthur, dejectedly; "but
where that is situated in this large town, I know not."
"Do you know the place, Ital Schreckenwald?"
"I, young lady?--Not I--I know nothing of Strasburg and its inns. I
believe most of our party are as ignorant as I am."
"You and they speak German, I suppose," said the Baroness, drily, "and
can make inquiry more easily than a foreigner? Go, sir, and forget
not that humanity to the stranger is a religious duty."
With that shrug of the shoulders which testifies a displeased messenger,
Ital went to make some inquiry, and, in his absence, brief as it was,
Anne took an opportunity to say apart,--"Farewell!--Farewell! Accept
this token of friendship, and wear it for my sake. May you be happy!"
Her slender fingers dropped into his hand a very small parcel. He
turned to thank her, but she was already at some distance; and
Schreckenwald, who had taken his place by his side, said in his harsh
voice, "Come, Sir Squire, I have found out your place of rendezvous,
and I have but little time to play the gentleman-usher."
He then rode on; and Philipson, mounted on his military charger,
followed him in silence to the point where a large street joined, or
rather crossed, that which led from the quay on which they had landed.
"Yonder swings the Flying Stag," said Ital, pointing to an immense
sign, which, mounted on a huge wooden frame, crossed almost the whole
breadth of the street. "Your intelligence can, I think, hardly abandon
you, with such a guide-post in your eye."
So saying, he turned his horse without further farewell, and rode back
to join his mistress and her attendants.
Philipson's eyes rested on the same group for a moment, when he was
recalled to a sense of his situation by the thoughts of his father;
and, spurring his jaded horse down the cross street, he reached the
hostelry of the Flying Stag.
FOOTNOTES:
[4] _Baaren-hauter_,--he of the Bear's hide,--a nickname for a German
private soldier.