Ferdinand of Altenburg seated himself upon the edge of the pallet, and
gave way to thought; nor must it be denied that after the first
excitement of action was over, he felt his position to be one of no
inconsiderable pain, difficulty, and danger. Imprisonment, forced
solitude, and the deprivation of active exertion, must ever be a heavy
burden for eager and busy youth to bear, even for an hour; but there
were many other evils, possible, probable, and actual, which the
young gentleman had to contemplate as he sat there and meditated over
his fate. To be deprived of the society of her he loved, for many
hours, perhaps for many days--to leave all the circumstances, by which
his fate and hers might be affected for ever, to be decided by
accident to know that one for whom he felt an instinctive jealousy and
dislike was to be possessed, during his absence, of the blessing of
her society, of the treasure which he valued beyond all price and
would have guarded for himself with a miser's care, were first among
the painful impressions that presented themselves. But then came the
questions of how his imprisonment might terminate; how long it might
continue; what might be the end. Amongst the rude and ruthless acts of
those times there were innumerable instances of such threats as those
which had been held out by the man who had just left him, being
carried into execution. There was something more than a possibility,
there was a probability of his being treated as a hostage to ensure
the forbearance of the Count of Ehrenstein and his guest; and,
moreover, if his situation failed in deterring them from seeking
retribution for the offences of the Baron of Eppenfeld, there was
every likelihood of that daring and rapacious nobleman, adding to
crimes from the consequences of which he could not escape by putting
his prisoner to death. Ferdinand had then to consider, what chance
there existed of the two Counts either refraining, out of regard for
his safety, from active measures against the Baron, or of their
temporising with their enemy till his security was obtained. In regard
to Count Frederick, he had indeed some hope, for there was a frank and
upright bearing about that prince which had impressed him at once with
a belief that he would act in all circumstances in a generous as well
as an honourable manner; but when he thought of the Count of
Ehrenstein he could flatter himself with no hope of any pause or
consideration in his favour, when in the opposite scale was to be
placed the recovery of a large sum of gold. Perhaps he did him
injustice, but he was inclined to believe that the person must be much
more dear to the Count than he was, whose life would not be risked or
sacrificed for a certain amount of ducats. His only hope was, that
Count Frederick's presence might have some effect in mitigating his
own lord's eagerness. But in matters of life and death such slight
chances of escape afford but small consolation, and Ferdinand's mood
was certainly somewhat gloomy when the Baron of Eppenfeld's chief
officer returned with a man bearing some wine and meat.
The young gentleman banished everything like care from his look,
however, as soon as he heard the bolts withdrawn; and he received the
provisions with a gay air, saying, "Thanks, thanks, good Sir, I hope
the wine is good; for this place is not lively, and I shall have
nought to while away the hours but wine or sleep, and the bed does not
seem a soft one."
"You may have a harder to-morrow," was Fritz's only reply; and
withdrawing as soon as the provisions were set down, he left Ferdinand
once more to, his own thoughts.
For some time the captive touched neither meat nor drink; leaning his
head upon his hand, and still meditating more and more sadly. At
length, however, he started up, saying, "Well, it is no use thinking,
I must have some food, whatever be the result;" and after eating
sparingly, he set the flagon to his lips and took a deep draught. The
wine was good, and it cheered him, but he did not repeat the libation;
and walking to and fro in his cell, he continued his meditations; now
smiling and now frowning, as fancy sometimes brightened and sometimes
darkened the prospect of the fate before him. While thus occupied, the
small loophole window of the cell showed him the grey change in the
colouring of the air, which precedes the coming on of night, and he
could hear the evening noise of the storks, as they prepared to wing
their way up from the stream that ran through the valley below,
towards the pinnacles of the castle. Soon after the growing twilight
nearly deprived him of all sight in his dull abode; and in a few
minutes more all was darkness.
"Well, I will lay me down, and try to sleep," said Ferdinand; and
though the drowsy god refused to come at first, yet after a while his
eyes grew heavy, and he fell asleep. His slumbers were disturbed,
however, by the same sad and gloomy images which had haunted his
waking thoughts, and ere two hours were over, he woke again with a
start, and vague apprehensions of he knew not what. For several
moments he could not recollect where he was; but when he had collected
his thoughts, and found that the attempt to sleep any more would be in
vain, he rose, and walking to the little loophole, gazed out upon the
narrow space of sky that it offered to his sight.
The valley below seemed to be filled with clouds of mist; but the
height upon which the castle stood raised it above the vapours, and he
could see two bright stars--one twinkling, clear, and immoveable, high
up in the sky, and the other with a softer and more gentle fire, which
appeared to move slowly across the lower part of the aperture.
Ferdinand's quick imagination speedily found images of human fate and
circumstances in what he saw.
"There shines honour and truth above," he said; "steadfast to the end;
and there moves love and hope along the course of earthly life, pure
and bright, even if less sparkling than the higher light."
He stood and gazed for nearly half an hour, for there was something
attractive in those stars which kept him fixed to the spot. It seemed
in his solitude as if there was a companionship in their rays--as if
they shone to soothe and cheer him; and he was still suffering his
fancy to sport free amongst the fields of space, when he heard a step
approaching, as if some one were about to pass before the loophole; a
moment or two after, before it reached the spot where he stood, there
was a pause, and then a voice said, "Where is the postern? It used to
be somewhere here. Hundert Schweren! they cannot have blocked it up."
"Whose voice is that?" said Ferdinand, in a low tone. There was an
instant pause, and all was again silent, till Ferdinand repeated his
question, saying, "Who is there? I should know the voice.--Is it you,
Franz?"
"Hush!" said the speaker without, and the next instant the lower part
of the loophole was darkened by what seemed the head of a man.
"Is that you in there, Master Ferdinand?" said the voice of the smith.
"Answer quietly, for we may be overheard from above."
"It is even I, Franz," answered the young gentleman. "But I fear you
are bringing yourself into great peril; and on my account too, if I am
not mistaken."
"Never mind that," answered the smith. "I have plenty to help me in
case of need. But can you tell me where the postern is, lad? I will
soon get in if I can but find it."
"I know not where it is," answered Ferdinand; "but I saw traces of the
passage going on beyond this door. However, when you are in I do not
see how you will be able to reach me."
"Easy enough, easy enough," answered Franz Creussen. "I know the place
of old, and I have not heard that the Baron has laid out much money in
altering his castle since he had it. Besides, I will number the
loop-holes as I go, and then we shall be sure to get you out."
"Thanks Franz, a thousand thanks," answered the young gentleman. "Were
I to stay till to-morrow, I find I should most probably make my exit
by a window and a rope."
"Well, keep quiet, and be ready," answered Franz Creussen. "Come along
my man, and have the horn ready for a blast. I will keep the door
against any ten of them, when once we've got it open, till the men
from below can come up." Thus saying, he walked on; but Ferdinand
could hear his steps for only six or seven paces farther, and then the
worthy smith seemed to stop, and a dull sound was heard, as of some
one sawing slowly through a thick and heavy piece of timber. Ferdinand
remembered that as he had been carried, or rather pushed along the
passage from which the cell entered, he had seen a low door at the
end, which might well be a postern leading out upon the rock. But he
feared that the sound which caught his ear might rouse some of the
other tenants of the castle; or attract the notice of some watchful
sentinels upon the walls. The predatory habits of the Baron of
Eppenfeld, however, and the frequent feuds which they entailed with
his neighbours, had not taught him that caution which was a part of
the natural disposition of the Count of Ehrenstein; and trusting to
the renown of a name which had become terrible, and the natural
strength of his hold, he maintained a very different watch from that
which his captive had been accustomed to see practised. His soldiery,
too, imitating the habits of their leader, were by no means exempt
from his vices; and an alternation of cunning schemes, fierce
enterprises, and reckless revelry, formed the life of the inhabitants
of Eppenfeld. A number of the men had been sent out the night before
upon different errands affecting the peculiar circumstances in which
the Baron was placed. The rest had finished their carouse as soon as
the capture of Ferdinand and his companions was effected; and a
solitary watchman, placed on a high tower, solaced his loneliness by a
long and comfortable nap, with his back resting against the
battlements.
Thus no ear but Ferdinand's heard the sound, which ceased much sooner
than he expected, and drawing near to the door, he listened eagerly,
till at length he heard the creaking of rusty hinges, and then a step
in the passage. The next instant he distinguished the drawing of
bolts, but it was not the door of his own cell which they had
unfastened, and he then knocked gently with his hand, to indicate the
place of his confinement. The step then came on, the heavy wooden bar
was removed, the other fastenings undone, and his eye, accustomed to
the darkness, could make out the tall figure of the smith, as he bent
down to look in.
"Are you there, lad?" said Franz Creussen. "Ay, I see you now; come
along, come along; have you any arms?"
"My sword they have got, and my head-piece," answered Ferdinand; "the
rest they left me. Let us away, Franz. I can get arms hereafter; yet I
would fain, were it possible, free the poor fellows who were with me."
"Oh! they will be safe enough," answered Franz Creussen; "you were the
only one in danger. We must lose no time, for we have got far to go,
and may have much to do.--But we'll leave the doors open behind us,
that the Counts may get in; for I dare say these swine will not find
it out till they have the spears of Ehrenstein under their walls."
Thus saying, he hurried away down the passage to the postern door,
where one of his stout workmen was standing; and somewhat to his
surprise, Ferdinand now found that both master and man were completely
armed.
"Why, Franz," he said, in a low voice; "you look like a knight."
"Ay," answered Franz Creussen, merrily; "they always told me I look
worse than I am. But come along, come along, and mind your footing,
for on my life there are some spots where it is not safe to pass."
Slowly wending their way along upon the narrow ledge of rock
immediately under the walls of the castle on that side, with the deep
valley wrapped in mists and shadows beneath them, and the blue sky
with its thousand bright eyes twinkling up above, they came at the end
of about a hundred yards, to a narrow footway down the front of the
rock, not much less dangerous than the beetling summit which they had
just quitted. In the bottom of the valley, about a mile from
Eppenfeld, they found a large party of men and horses waiting for
them, with a led horse over and above the number of the smith's
companions, showing clearly that he had little doubted, from the
first, that he should be able to set his young friend free. Few words
were spoken, but mounting quickly, they took their way towards
Anweiler, and ere long left that small place behind them.
"Now we are safe enough," said Franz Creussen; "for though the beast
of Eppenfeld may perhaps pursue you farther, if he should find that
you are gone, he will go straight towards Ehrenstein, and we must take
another path. We may as well separate, however, and send some of the
men on the direct road, then their horses' feet will mislead him."
This plan was accordingly followed, and the smith and his young
companion, with five or six more of the party, took their way down
towards the valley of the Rhine, and then made a circuit to the left,
in the direction of Dürkheim, while the rest followed the straight
road over the hills.
Little was said, either by Franz Creussen or Ferdinand, as they rode
at the head of the troop; but at length, at the crossing of the road,
the smith suddenly drew in his rein, saying, "I forgot to tell the
men, if they met with the Counts and their party, to say that they
would find the postern door open. Ride off after them, Peterkin, as
fast as you can; straight up that road to the left there.--You may as
well take all the other men with you, for we sha'n't need them here.
The Baron won't dare to come down into this open country.--But let
some one give Master Ferdinand a lance, or at worst a sword; though I
think a sword is the best of the two after all."
"The Counts won't set out till they hear or see something of me," said
Ferdinand; "or at all events not before to-morrow."
"I don't know that," answered Franz Creussen. "Your lord might not,
but he has got a better man with him; and as to their hearing, they've
heard long ago,--get ye gone, Peterkin, and take the men, as I told
you."
These orders were obeyed as promptly as if he had been a military
commander; and the smith and his young companion rode on at a slow
pace for about half a mile.
At length Ferdinand remarked, "I think we could get forward quicker,
Franz; the horses don't seem tired."
"Ay, but I want to talk to you a bit, Master Ferdinand; I've long
wished it, and now I've got the opportunity.--But look there,--lights
moving along the hills. The two Counts, take my word for it. But never
you mind, come on towards Ehrenstein. You may do as much good there as
where they are going."
"I think so too, Franz," answered Ferdinand; "and I am anxious to get
there fast; for Father George wishes to see me to-night, and it must
be now near two."
"Ah! that alters the case," answered Franz Creussen. "We'll spur on
then.--Two, why it's past three by this time;" and striking his horse
with his spur, he trotted quickly along the road.