The Tournament at Little Basle
At the time the League had grown so strong, Duke Albrecht the Second
ruled in Austria and enjoyed the friendship of the Emperor Charles the
Fourth, of the house of Luxemburg. In preparing for a struggle with the
League he had strengthened his castles and cities and had assured
himself of the loyal service of his vassals. The war, however, was
confined to pillaging expeditions and petty encounters which did the
League little harm, and at last an unconditional peace was made between
the two parties. After Albrecht’s death, his oldest son, Rudolph the
Fourth, succeeded. This prince, the first of his house to receive the
title of archduke, had the hereditary Hapsburg spirit and strove to the
utmost to extend the supremacy of the empire. Notwithstanding the
Emperor Charles was his father-in-law, he opposed him by every kind of
artifice and continually interfered with his plans. He strengthened
himself by alliances with neighboring powers, especially with Basle and
other imperial cities, and weakened the Emperor’s power in Italy. By the
marriage of his brother Leopold to the daughter of Bernabo Visconti of
Milan he secured the adherence of many noble Italian families. He
appointed Brun, the Zurich burgomaster, a member of his privy council
and thus attached him to his interests. He drove in a wedge between Lake
Zurich and Schwyz, by the purchase of territory, and to secure control
of the commercial highway from Italy to Germany he built a bridge across
the lake upon the pretext of shortening the route for pious pilgrims on
their way to retreats. While engaged in these various enterprises the
prince died in his twenty-sixth year and was succeeded by his brother
Leopold, in 1365.
Leopold, although inclined to mysticism, was of martial spirit and
handled the lance at tournaments in a masterly way. Hardly a year of his
life had passed without finding him engaged in war. While he had a
numerous following of knights and nobles, his devoutness and
straightforwardness also commended him to the favor of the people, among
whom many stories of his acts of generosity were told, like those
reported later about his Uncle Maximilian, “the last of the knights.”
Leopold took such advantage of the quarrels between the petty princes in
upper Italy that he soon checked the designs of the powerful republic of
Venice. His father-in-law Visconti was of great service to him in this.
The predecessors of Visconti had established their power when the
Lombardy League was swallowed up in a multitude of petty sovereignties.
The masters of Milan at this time, Bernabo and his brother Galeazzo the
Second, needing brave soldiers for their wars of conquest, many young
men of the mountain country organized into troops which were granted
special privileges because of their loyalty to the Viscontis. The two
Milan lords were excellent army leaders but tyrannical toward their
subjects. At last they became so bold as to take up arms against Pope
Gregory the Eleventh, for which they were excommunicated. At the same
time the Pope forbade these young mountaineers to render service to
them. They recognized the papal authority and most of them returned to
their homes.
Among them was Arnold of Winkelried. His home possessions were
insignificant. We have already seen that even as a boy he had shown a
warlike spirit in numerous ways. He had practised all the feats of arms
with indefatigable activity, and had been well instructed in them, but
as there were few opportunities for their use at home he had taken
service at Milan. He fought for strangers to learn how to fight for his
fatherland whenever it should need his help. He had participated in
numerous encounters, had been wounded several times, and had won such
distinction that he was admitted to knighthood.
In the beginning of the year 1370 Arnold of Winkelried once more stood
upon his native soil. He was tall, powerful, and in the very prime of
his manhood. He vainly sought for the opportunity to perform active
deeds. Peace and quiet prevailed all over the country. His restless
spirit was not satisfied with managing the small home affairs. He longed
for the tumult of battle and the strenuous life of the soldier, to which
he had been accustomed of late. He endured the quiet of Stans for a few
weeks only, after which notwithstanding the inclement season of the year
he undertook a journey to the larger cities of the League, to see and
hear what was going on. It was not mere chance that took him to Zurich.
He had been told at Stans that his old-time playmate, Florian Häbli,
whom he met as a houseless wanderer at the monastery of Engelberg and
had helped to the utmost of his ability, was living with a famous
armorer at Zurich. He sought him there to have a talk over old times,
and found him in the midst of a crowd of workmen in the same place where
we have seen him as Master Hildprand’s apprentice. The meeting was a
cordial one. When the old-time fisherman and woodcutter’s son began by
addressing Arnold as “sir knight” and “noble sir,” he was firmly bidden
to use the familiar “thou.”
As they had much to talk about, the armorer entertained his
distinguished visitor in his own house. Florian’s uncle was childless,
and as he was comfortably off and wished to live quietly in his old age,
he had transferred his prosperous business to his nephew, who was
conducting it with like success. In the meantime Florian had gone about
the world considerably, and had worked in many a famous city. He had
been in Strasburg, where for more than three centuries they had been
building a magnificent cathedral, the spire of which was just beginning
to rise. He had also stood before a mighty cathedral in Cologne, which
was begun a century before, but in late times the work had stopped. In
no city, however, had he seen so much activity as at Prague. The Emperor
Charles had laid out an entirely new section of the city in which
numerous churches and monasteries were going up, and a great stone
bridge was built over the Moldau. The finest structure, however, was the
training school, the scholars in which were called students. Florian had
also worked for a time at Frankfort-on-the-Main, and he could hardly
find words to describe the fair which was held there twice a year. It
was to this fair that the large cities on the Rhine, from Basle to
Cologne, sent their merchandise; and heavily laden vessels brought goods
there from France. Fur dealers from the Hanse towns, linen and lace
dealers from the cities of Flanders, and goldsmiths from Burgundy met
there. England’s steel wares as well as the various products of Wales
were exhibited. Every building was packed with people and goods to the
roof, great multitudes thronged the streets, and as the city could not
accommodate all the strangers, many of them had to live in tents. It was
one of the grandest of spectacles. Florian had seen an ostrich and an
elephant there for the first time; and one of the numerous pickpockets
had made off with his purse. He talked long about his adventures in
other cities, but he made no mention of his exciting experiences at the
Rebstock, for he still respected his oath. He felt a quiet satisfaction
at having saved Zurich, and attributed to it all the blessings which had
been so generously bestowed upon him within its walls.
Arnold talked of his war adventures in Italy, and as he came to the end
he said: “But now my sword and armor are rusting. I vainly look for any
place in the world where war is going on and glory can be found. I am
sick of these peaceful times.”
Master Florian significantly placed his forefinger upon his nose. He
could give him some information. There was a region in northern Prussia
where the clash of arms never ceased. The pagan Prussians were not yet
conquered, and there was always plenty of fighting in the adjacent
Lithuania. Many a one who had been told this by Florian had been there
and had brought back dreadful news about the country and its savage
inhabitants.
Arnold was at last satisfied. The greater the danger the greater the
glory, especially when gained in fighting for the spread of
Christianity. Nothing would suit him better than to go to that northern
country. It increased his delight when Florian told him there was an
opportunity for him to go with a goodly company. Duke Leopold had
arranged an expedition for that very purpose. It was said he had already
assembled a thousand knights from Austria, Swabia, and other German
countries. They were to meet at Basle, and the Duke was to hold a grand
tournament there on Shrove Tuesday, and then leave at once for
Marienburg, the castle of the Teutonic Order.
Arnold decided on the instant to join the expedition, but he was also
anxious to show his prowess at the tournament, so that he should not be
a stranger in this array of famous knights and nobles. But Shrove
Tuesday was only a few days off, and as he must return to Stans, the
time was too short to allow of his getting to Basle in good season. He
explained the situation to Florian, who replied: “If it is your armor
that delays you, as I surmise, the journey to Stans is unnecessary. You
need armor and a horse. As far as armor and weapons are concerned, I
have everything you want and you are welcome to use it; and as far as
the horse is concerned, I have a friend here who has several fine ones,
which even Duke Leopold himself would not be ashamed to ride. He will
let you have one on my security, and all you have to do is to make your
choice.”
Arnold cordially shook Florian’s hand and thanked him for his friendly
assistance, of which he should certainly avail himself. “But you know,
Florian,” he said with a smile, “that horse and armor belong to the
knight who unseats his opponent. Supposing I should be the unfortunate
one!”
“I am not afraid of that,” said Florian, regarding him with a look of
pride. “I know my hero of Pilatus.”
Arnold soon made a choice of armor and weapons from the young master’s
large stock. He selected a snow-white battle-horse which combined
strength and suppleness of limb with a fiery nature. Thus equipped and
well mounted, Arnold rode off one day to Basle, after taking a cordial
farewell of Florian.
The free city of Basle is situated upon the Rhine. Great Basle is upon
one bank and Little Basle upon the other. On the morning of Shrove
Tuesday the city was crowded with a multitude of persons who had come on
foot and horse, some to participate in the merry-makings of the city,
and others to attend the tournament. The tilting-field was oval in
shape, and surrounded by gayly decorated lists. The stands filled
gradually. The marshals of the tournament, staves in hand, took their
seats with their halberds placed before them. The referees sat below
them, and the herald stood in front, clad in glistening mail, adorned
with the heraldic symbols.
Suddenly there was a jubilant outburst from the musicians’ gallery as
Duke Leopold appeared upon his proudly prancing steed, attended by a
brilliant retinue of pages and squires. After he had dismounted, the
Duke seated himself under a canopy, with his attendants stationed about
him in a circle. He waved a white handkerchief as the signal for the
tournament to begin. The gates were opened, and accompanied by strains
of music the combatants rode around the lists with lances at rest. Six
of them went to six tents at the north end of the arena. There they
dismounted, leaving their steeds to the care of servants, and each went
to his tent, upon which was suspended his escutcheon. These were the six
challenging knights.
At a signal from the trumpet the herald rode to the centre of the arena
and proclaimed the regulations so that all might hear. Then there was a
sudden commotion at the south end, caused by the rush of knights who
were to contest with the challengers. Only six could be chosen, and
these were selected by lot. Each one of these touched the escutcheon of
the one with whom he was to contend, with his lance, doing it with the
blunt end and not the point, which signified that the contest was not a
life and death one, but a test of skill and strength on each side.
When the six knights had ridden back and formed in line, the six
challengers mounted their steeds and took their places a short distance
away from the others. At the sound of the trumpet both parties rushed at
each other. The challengers were apparently sure of success. Five of
their opponents were unhorsed at the first onset, but the sixth knight
kept his saddle. Both his own lance and that of his opponent were
shivered at the same time, so that neither was victor. Amid the shouts
of the crowd and the din of trumpets the challengers rode back to their
tents, and the vanquished ones picked themselves up and disappeared from
the arena. The contest was soon resumed. After many others had been
defeated there was a pause. It seemed as if no one cared to enter the
lists.
Suddenly a trumpet sounded at the southern end of the arena, and the
crowd beheld a knight of stately figure riding up to the six tents at
the northern end upon a milk-white steed. He halted, and his lance
touched an escutcheon which was decorated with a tree and two ravens
hovering over it. There was universal astonishment, for the owner of
this escutcheon was the most dexterous and powerful of all the
challengers. He instantly came from his tent to ascertain who his
opponent was. The latter lifted his visor and disclosed the face of
Arnold of Winkelried, as the reader probably has anticipated. The other,
taking Arnold’s courtesy for an expression of scorn, also lifted his
visor and disclosed the stern features of Veit of Mörsperg.
“Your steed pleases me. It looks to me as if it might soon have another
stall, and I have one which will suit him, and there is plenty of room
in my armor chamber for that mail of yours,” scornfully said Veit, as he
gloated over the prizes of the contest, which he was sure were his.
“Many thanks for your warning,” replied Arnold, “but if you expect to
secure the prize, I would advise you to take a fresh horse and new
lance, for you are sadly in need of both.”
Hardly had the trumpet sounded when the two dashed from their places
with lightning speed and met in the centre of the arena with such force
that both their lances were shattered and the horses sank upon their
haunches, but by the help of bridle and spurs they were soon up again.
Fire flashed from Veit’s eyes as he looked at his opponent. Both went
back for new lances. They rushed at each other again at the sound of the
trumpet. Veit aimed a thrust at Arnold’s head, which would have been
dangerous had it succeeded, but Arnold evaded it and thereupon struck
Veit’s shield such a powerful blow in the centre that his opponent
wavered in the saddle and the lance was shattered. After Arnold had
secured another lance the two knights made the third attack. This time
the order was reversed. It was now the Mörsperger’s lance which struck
Arnold’s shield in the centre. Arnold wavered for a second, for the
thrust was so powerful that the splinters flew far and wide; but at the
same instant, Arnold with well directed aim had struck Veit’s helmet
with such force that he was unhorsed and fell backwards. A cloud of dust
hid them while the multitude were enthusiastically hailing the victor.
When it cleared away, horse and rider were already up, and Veit,
bleeding from a wound in the face, snarled at his conqueror, “We shall
meet again.”
“There will be ample opportunity on our way to the North, I hope,”
replied Arnold. Veit made no reply. He had no intention of going there,
for there was not sufficient plunder among the savages to tempt him. The
meeting, however, took place at another time, as we shall see.
Arnold, who had come to Basle with borrowed armor, won not less than
five prizes that day. When the tournament was finished he sent back his
steed and armor to their owners at Zurich and took for himself only
those which he had won from Veit. He declined the rest as well as the
money with which by the rules of the tournament the vanquished might
redeem their property.