The day had been bright and cheerful, but towards nightfall the sky
had become obscured by thin, light vapours. Low, sweeping clouds, or
rather masses of drifting mist, were hurried along through the air,
and brushing the hills, and sometimes floating down into the
valleys--like the skirt of the wind's gray robe--now hid the grander
features of the scene, now suffered the crags and pinnacles to peep
out clear and distinct, as on they hastened with all the speed and
importance of great affairs. As the sun set, indeed, a purple glow
diffused itself amongst those vapours, but they did not clear away;
and speedily after a fine rain began to fall, somewhat cold and
chilly, hiding everything around in dull opaque mist. In fact, one of
those frequent alternations to which all mountain countries are more
or less subject, had come over the weather, rendering the evening as
cheerless and dismal as the morning had been bright and gay.
Nevertheless, two horsemen still rode on their way about half-past
eight o'clock, though their beasts were evidently jaded, and their own
garments and arms were covered with the dust of many a weary mile of
road; but about five or six miles beyond the small town of Anweiler,
one of the horses cast a shoe, and the beast speedily began to show
symptoms of lameness. The rider was consequently obliged to dismount,
and lead his weary steed; and the other drew in his bridle, in order
not to outride his companion--for the state of society, of which we
have given some glimpses, rendered the presence of a companion on the
road a very desirable circumstance to the wayfarer.
"We can't be far from the smith's forge," said the dismounted man to
his friend. "I will stop and get him shod there."
"Will he shoe him?" asked the other. "He is no friend of our good
lord, and has not shod a hoof for him for years."
"Oh, Franz Creussen is a good heart," answered the man on foot. "He
would shoe the devil sooner than a poor beast should go lame. Besides,
he will like to hear our tidings, though they will vex him mightily;
for the young gentleman is a great friend of his. By the Lord! I
should not wonder if that mad Baron of Eppenfeld put him to
death--there's no knowing what he will do."
"No, no," answered the other; "he knows better. The Count would make
him pay dearly for it."
"I'm not sure of that," replied the man on foot. "I've seen him give
Ferdinand of Altenburg many a moody look at times; and I've a notion
in my head--but no matter for that, I shall keep it to myself. I think
some people in the castle love the young gentleman better than our
lord likes."
"Not unlikely," said the man on horseback. "I've my thoughts too, but
the less said the better."
The conversation now dropped between the two weary men, and for about
half an hour or so they continued to plod on their way in silence,
till at length a red glare, suddenly rising and falling through the
dark and misty air, showed them that they were approaching the forge
of Franz Creussen, and that the industrious smith, or some of his busy
men, were still pursuing the labours of the day. The wide open shed,
when they came near, displayed ten or twelve Cyclops, naked nearly to
the waist, plying the busy hammer at different anvils, blowing the
huge bellows, or heating the iron in the fire. But Franz Creussen
himself was not amongst them; and while one of the travellers applied
to have his horse shod as speedily as possible, the other inquired for
the master of the forge, and was informed that he had gone into his
cottage hard by, to take his evening meal. Fastening his horse by a
hook, the horseman proceeded to seek Franz in his house; and as the
smith was a wealthy man in his way of life, offering very cogent
reasons for refusing to submit to many of the exactions which the
neighbouring nobles generally laid upon the peasantry, his dwelling
presented an appearance of comfort, and even luxury, seldom met with
amongst persons in his station.
"Who the fiend are you?" exclaimed the giant, as soon as the soldier
entered. "I have seen your face somewhere, but do not know your name.
Ah! now I bethink me; you are one of those who were riding with the
lad Ferdinand this morning, are you not? Where is he?--but I can
guess."
"He's in a dungeon at Eppenfeld by this time," answered the man. "I
and my companion are the only two that got off; so, as I know you have
a friendship for him, Franz, I thought I would come in and tell you,
while my comrade got his horse's shoe put on."
"That was kind, that was kind," cried Franz Creussen, rubbing one of
his temples with a forefinger as big as a child's arm. "There, take
some wine; the boy must be got out."
"Oh, the Count will get him out," answered the soldier; adding,
"that's to say, if they don't put him to death first."
"If they do, let them have good heed to their brains," said Franz
Creussen; "for the Baron of Eppenfeld's skull would make a poor anvil,
and yet it shall be tapped by my hammer, if he has injured the lad in
life or limb. It's time that the Baron were out of the world, as well
as some others;" and Franz Creussen fell into thought, and rubbed his
temple again.
The man, in the mean while, helped himself liberally to the wine which
the smith offered, and in a minute or two after, the master of the
forge raised himself suddenly, saying, "The horse must be shod by this
time, and you must onto Ehrenstein with all speed, to bear these
tidings to the lords there, for they must not let the youth lie long
in Eppenfeld."
"Oh, the Count will see right done, and that quickly," answered his
companion.
"If the one Count doesn't, the other will," replied Franz Creussen;
"but you speed on, and let them have the intelligence at all events;"
and striding into his forge, he reproved his men somewhat sharply for
having taken so long to put a shoe on a horse; and having seen the
work accomplished, and bid the two soldiers adieu, he turned to his
own workmen, saying, "Shut up, shut up, and put out the fires. I have
other work in hand for us all."
In the mean while the two soldiers of Ehrenstein rode on their way
homeward, forcing their horses to as quick a pace as fatigue would
permit. When they reached the castle the hour was late, but the Count
was still playing at tables with his guest, and they were instantly
admitted to his presence. They found both the noblemen in a gay mood,
laughing over their game; while Adelaide sat at a little distance on
one side, with Martin of Dillberg standing by her chair, and the
jester, seated on a stool, amusing her by his quaint remarks.
"Well, what tidings, what tidings?" exclaimed the Count of Ehrenstein.
"Where is Ferdinand? Is he not come back?"
The man's answer, on the present occasion, was much the same as that
which he had made to Franz Creussen; and when it was uttered, the
Count of Ehrenstein struck the table vehemently, exclaiming, "This is
too bad. By Heaven it shall be avenged!"
Count Frederick's eye glanced suddenly to the countenance of the fair
girl who sat near, which had become deadly pale; and then, turning to
the soldier, he inquired, "Did you hear the young gentleman deliver
his message?"
"No, my good lord," replied the man who had before spoken, "I was left
with the horses, but Herman here did."
"What said the Baron?" asked Count Frederick, turning to the other,
who was now coming forward. "Tell us all that took place."
Herman, however, was a slower and more cautious man than his
companion, and he was by no means inclined to repeat expressions which
he had heard distinctly enough, but which he feared might give offence
to the two noblemen before whom he stood, judging rightly, that a part
of the anger excited by insulting messages always attaches to the
person who bears them. He replied, therefore, circumspectly, "The
Baron seemed to be in a great fury, noble Sir; and indeed, I thought
had been drinking too much. I can't recollect all that he said, but I
know he sent Ferdinand of Altenburg back with a flat refusal. Then the
young gentleman defied him boldly in both your names, and warned him
that you would be under his hold before four-and-twenty hours were
over. That seemed to enrage him still more, and thinking we might not
get off quite safely, I mounted my horse as soon as we were in the
court. Master Ferdinand had his foot in the stirrup to do so likewise,
when they came running out of the hall, and laid hold of him. He
struck the first man down, but there were so many that it was
impossible to contend with them; and seeing the greater number of our
people taken, and our leader held down by three men with their knives
at his throat, I thought it best to gallop off while the drawbridge
was down, that you might know what had happened as soon as possible."
Count Frederick looked again towards Adelaide, and then to her father,
saying, "This must be avenged, indeed, Ehrenstein. Both for our
honour's sake, and for this noble youth's deliverance, we must take
speedy steps."
"I will march at daybreak," answered the Count of Ehrenstein; "and
with your good aid, doubt not to bring this freebooter to reason very
speedily."
"By my faith! I will march to-night," cried Count Frederick.
"Daybreak, I trust, will find me beneath his walls. Frederick
of Leiningen sleeps not after he is insulted, till he has had
vengeance. If it will take you long time to prepare, you can follow
to-morrow;--for my part, I will give this man no time to strengthen
himself against us. Martin, hie ye down, and bid the men feed their
horses, make ready their arms, and take with them sufficient for a
three days' stay in the field. I will not lodge under aught but the
blue sky or the green bough, till I have righted this wrong."
"I will with you, noble friend," said the Count of Ehrenstein. "In two
or three hours I can be ready. Ho! Seckendorf, Mosbach! to the saddle,
good knights, leave your draughts and prepare for Eppenfeld."
"You must leave men enough to guard your castle, Ehrenstein," said
Count Frederick, "and some one to command in it."
"I will command, uncle," said the jester, coming forward, "that's my
place by right of birth."
Count Frederick smiled, but paused a moment, and then asked "How do
you prove that, Herr von Narren?"
"Why, I am the eldest son of the family," answered the jester, "the
eldest branch of the whole house."
"Indeed," cried the Lord of Ehrenstein, "show us your quarterings,
mein Herr, with which of my ancestors does your tribe begin?"
"With Adam," answered the jester.
"But the eldest branch, the eldest branch--how are you of the eldest
branch?" asked Count Frederick, "by the father's or the mother's
side?"
"By the male," said the jester. "Was not Adam a fool when he ate the
apple, because his wife asked him? Was not Cain a fool when he killed
Abel, and thought that nobody saw him? So you see we of the cloth are
evidently of the elder branch, and take the inheritance, and therefore
I've a right to command in the castle."
"Nay, nay, Herr von Narren," said the Lord of Ehrenstein. "I must
leave one of my own men to command under you."
"Cannot I fill that task, noble Count?" asked Martin of Dillberg, who
had just returned to the hall. "If I remain behind, I shall be right
glad to be of any service."
"If you remain behind!" exclaimed Count Frederick; "why should you do
so, Martin? You are not one to shirk honour, or to fly from danger, I
hope--why should you not go with the rest?"
"I do not know, my lord," replied the young man, with a heavy look;
"only when my horse fell with me near Saarbrück, you said I was not to
take the field again for some time, and left me behind to follow
slowly."
"But you were well enough to overtake us ere we reached Ehrenstein,"
rejoined his lord.
"I am quite ready, noble Sir," answered Martin of Dillberg, in
dull tone, "and only feared you might not let me go, remembering that
you halted two days on the road, so that I had time to journey
leisurely--but I am quite well enough to go, and Heaven knows I do not
wish to stay away when anything like glory is to be gained."
Count Frederick made no answer at the time, but seemed to muse over
what had passed. Shortly after the whole party separated to prepare,
and by two in the morning all the followers of the two Counts, except
a small band left to guard the castle, were assembled in the court.
The jester himself was ready, harnessed like a man at arms; but at the
last moment, Count Frederick turned to Martin of Dillberg, and told
him he was to remain. The young man affected to remonstrate, but the
Count repeated his commands in a grave and not very well pleased tone;
and then turning to the jester with a laugh, he added, "You had better
stay too, Herr von Narren, though I know in general you are wise
enough to go where hard blows are to be got rather than stay within
stone walls."
"Variety, uncle, variety," said the jester. "I have had enough of
stone walls for a time, and do not see why I should not change the
inside for the out. Besides, Martin of Dillberg's company is too great
a luxury to be indulged in often--it would make one effeminate."
The young man gave him a bitter look as he mounted his horse, and
shortly after, with several lighted torches before them, to show them
their way down the steep descent, the whole party set out upon their
expedition, leaving Martin of Dillberg behind them, and the castle
soon after relapsed into silence and tranquillity.