The whole castle of Eppenfeld slept as tranquilly for several hours
after Ferdinand of Altenburg had left it, as if no danger had
threatened its lord, and no troops were marching to attack it; and it
is very probable that the evasion of the young captive, and the means
of entrance which he had left open for the enemy, would not have been
discovered till chance or humanity led some one in the place to send
him food, had it not been for an accidental event which happened
during the night. We have seen that one of the motives for preventing
the young gentleman's return to his lord, was to afford time for
storing the castle with provisions; and various parties had been sent
out to scour the country for that purpose. Some of the leaders went
nearly drunk, and returned sober, and some went sober and returned
nearly drunk. Amongst the latter was a personage who, accompanied by
two companions, found his way to a village where they enjoyed
themselves for a couple of hours; and then, finding it late, and no
progress made in their foray, they rode on to the side of a hill,
where the villagers were accustomed to feed their swine, and
possessing themselves of the unruly beasts, commenced the far more
difficult enterprise of driving them to the castle. Now the distance
could scarcely be less than ten miles; and if any one considers what
it is for three men, not very sober, to drive sixty swine such a
distance, he will not be surprised that the task occupied many hours.
Nevertheless, on approaching the castle, which they did by the lesser
entrance at the back, the marauders found their flock shorn of its
fair proportions, and not more than forty of the beasts which never
chew the cud could be mustered, notwithstanding all the counting which
the three soldiers could accomplish. One of the hogs had run one way,
another another. One had committed suicide by throwing itself into a
stream, rather than follow the course on which fate and circumstances
were driving it; another had been run through the body by one of the
soldiers, somewhat too eager in pursuit; others had rushed back
between the horses, and had effected their escape; while others again
lay down upon the road, and refused to move even when the lance galled
their sturdy chines.
Within a mile of Eppenfeld, however, the leader fancied that he had
got the remainder of the herd in security, for the road was narrow,
and led straight up to the lesser gate of the castle. Unfortunately,
however, the small foot-path communicating with the postern, branched
off on the right hand of the road about a hundred yards' distance from
the walls. Though it was night, and the whole party, horse and foot,
was tired, a brisk young porker, who seemed to set fatigue at
defiance, instantly perceived the way to the postern, and as it was
evidently a path which his drivers did not wish to pursue, he darted
towards it, with a sort of caracole, and a grunt of intimation to his
companions. The hint was not lost upon them, and with one universal
whine of delight, the whole herd were instantly running along the
path, and thence pursuing their way by the narrow ledge of rock under
the wall of the castle.
To follow on horseback was out of the question, but two of the men
instantly sprang to the ground, with a multitude of curious and
high-sounding German oaths, and rushed after the bristly fugitives.
Even then the open postern might have escaped observation, had not
pigs been fond of strange places; but exactly at the spot where the
small door stood open, a halt took place amongst the herd, and a
tremendous pressure from behind was the consequence. Five or six were
pitched over the edge of the rock, fracturing their skulls as they
fell, and the rest, finding that hesitation was destruction, parted
into two bodies, the one pursuing its way straightforward towards the
opposite road through the valley, the others rushing, jostling, and
squeaking, into the castle, as if it had been a great sty, for which,
indeed, they might very well mistake it.
The pursuit of the first troop was evidently useless, and the two men,
turning after the second division, proceeded to close the door to
secure their prey, and then, for the first time, perceived that a
large portion of woodwork, between the iron bands which secured the
door, had been sawn away. To have found the postern open would have
been nothing very marvellous in their eyes, considering the state of
discipline in which they lived; but the work of the saw was convincing
proof to them that somebody had been sawing; and driving the pigs
before them into the court-yard, they at once proceeded to inquire who
the sawyer was.
The whole castle was speedily roused and in an uproar; and what
between the capture of the pigs, as they galloped about the wide
court-yard, the instant putting of them to death, in not the most
scientific manner, for want of food to keep them in a living and
unsalted state, and the various operations for rendering the postern
even more defensible than before, the active labours of the whole
garrison were not over when daylight broke upon the castle, and the
spears and pennons of the forces of Ehrenstein and Leiningen were seen
coming up the valley.
The Baron laughed loud and long, as he watched the approach of the
enemy. "Not a hundred and fifty men," he exclaimed; "on my life! I
have a great mind to go out and meet them; why we have eighty here
within the walls, and methinks the reiters of Eppenfeld are at least
worth double those of Ehrenstein--but we will let them waste
themselves upon the postern, for doubtless that young coistrel will
direct them thither."
"I rather think they will strive to take us by famine, my valiant
lord," replied Fritz, who was standing by him; "for depend upon it
they have made such speed in order to prevent us from providing
against a siege."
"Then we will give the lie to their expectations," cried the Baron of
Eppenfeld. "Ho! bring us some good stout beams here. We will hang out
a new sort of banner, such as they have never seen. Plant one firmly
in every tower, and then bring up the carcasses of the pigs and oxen."
Under his directions the slaughtered cattle were pulled up aloft, and
hung out from the battlements, like the banners of those days; and for
some minutes the approaching force could not make out the meaning of
this strange display.
"By Heaven! I believe he has hanged the poor fellows who went with our
young friend Ferdinand," exclaimed Count Frederick, as the pigs, being
the lightest, were first swung up to the top of the beams.
"Nay, nay, my good lord," cried Seckendorf, "they seem to me like
swine. Ay, and there goes an ox, too, depend upon it he intends to
allow us that he can hold out for a month or two."
"Let us to the postern with all speed," said old Karl of Mosbach; "he
may find us in the donjon ere dinner time to help him eat his pork."
"Let it be well reconnoitred first," said the Count of Ehrenstein;
"there is no use of our throwing away men's lives upon a useless
attempt. It is evident that he is prepared to receive us. He has
probably divined that we would come so soon, from the discovery of the
lad's escape; and if so, depend upon it, the postern has been
strengthened."
A party was accordingly detached to examine carefully the approach to
the proposed point of attack, and advanced some way up the path
leading from the valley. The walls of the castle were fully manned;
and hand guns not having been yet invented, bows and crossbows were
bent against the enemy: but not an arrow was discharged or a quarrel
let fly, till the men of Ehrenstein having advanced considerably
within range, discovered that the postern was blocked up in such a
manner as would render any attack upon it hopeless with so small a
force. No sooner did they commence their retreat, however, than a
flight of missiles assailed them from the walls, greatly hastening
their speed, and wounding several.
"Ah, ha!" cried the Baron, "they have had enough of the postern, and
they will soon have had enough of the castle. It is too hard a stone
for the teeth of these two poor Counts!"
But the worthy lord greatly miscalculated the character of one at
least of his adversaries. The Count of Ehrenstein, indeed, would very
willingly have accepted the liberation of his men as compensation for
all offences; but the Baron did not even think fit to give the
slightest sign of making that reparation; and Count Frederick was not
a man to suffer any difficulties to divert him in his efforts to wipe
out what he considered as both an insult and an injury. Shortly after
the return of the reconnoitring party to their companions, various
movements were observed amongst the assailants which somewhat puzzled
the people on the walls, and discouraged the more wary and
experienced. Three or four horsemen rode off in different directions
at full speed; and the rest of the forces, dividing into two parties,
posted themselves on the roads on either side of the castle, while the
two Counts, with some ten or twelve picked men, took up their position
under the shade of a large clump of beech trees, on the side of the
hill opposite to the postern, whence both of the principal gates of
Eppenfeld could be seen, and succour afforded to either of the bodies
of assailants in case a sortie should be made from the walls. There
dismounting from their horses, the two noblemen and their followers
stretched themselves on the grass, and seemed calmly waiting for the
result of the steps they had taken.
"Depend upon it, my good lord, they have sent to Neustadt for a party
of those dogged citizens," said Fritz, "or perhaps to Landau for
cannon."
"Nonsense and folly!" exclaimed the Baron, "they can never drag cannon
up here. Why, the great pierrier of Landau weighs a couple of ton, and
the little one a ton. They may bring a falconet, but that will do no
good; and as to the pigs of Neustadt, we will slaughter them as they
come, and send them home pickled to their fat wives."
Still it was evident that the worthy lord was by no means comfortable;
and his uneasiness increased when he saw the men of Leiningen begin to
cut down and shape some stout trees. He had so frequently beheld
persons of power and courage, whom he had injured or offended, turn
away, hopeless of redress, after a short demonstration against his
stronghold, that he had calculated boldly upon such being the case in
the present instance, and the signs of resolution and perseverance
displayed by the two Counts, showed him plainly that the far more
serious and discouraging affair of a siege was likely to follow. With
dogged resolution, however, he held to resistance, and the only effect
upon his mind was to make him take immediate measures for still
further strengthening the defences of his castle. Great beams were
placed across the gates, and the lower part of each was piled up with
rubbish, which was very abundant within the building. The stones of
the court-yard were taken up and carried to the battlements, to cast
down upon the heads of any of the assailants who might venture to
approach the walls; and several of the men, more dexterous than the
rest, were set to provide stores of arrows and bolts, lest the
provision already made should be exhausted. At the same time
considerable quantities of wine were distributed amongst the men, to
keep up their spirits; and as a warning to the rest, one of the
soldiers, who ventured to hint that it might be better for the Baron
to accommodate matters with the two Counts, had the lobes of his ears
slit with a short dagger: his lord declaring that he was only fit to
wear earrings.
Nevertheless, there was something in the calm immobility of the enemy,
which created very unpleasant sensations in the bosom of the Baron of
Eppenfeld. It was evident that they were waiting for farther
assistance, and the perfect tranquillity of their aspect led him to
believe that they felt confident that assistance would be complete and
overpowering. Though not a very imaginative man, he tortured his fancy
during the whole day, to divine whence and of what kind the expected
succour would be. But about half an hour before nightfall, all doubts
upon the subject were brought to an end, by the appearance, first, of
a large body of pikemen on foot, in whom he instantly recognised, by
their banners, the commons of several neighbouring towns, who had
suffered by his spirit of appropriation, and, secondly, of a
considerable force of horse bearing the cognizance of the House of
Hardenberg. Worse than all, however, were seen, in the midst, two long
wagons, dragged slowly forward by eight or ten bullocks, each
displaying a large, clumsy-looking implement, somewhat like the lopped
trunk of a tree, which he had little doubt were neither more nor less
than the two great cannon of Landau, against which, if once brought to
bear upon the gates, the castle could not stand an hour. His only hope
was, that their bulk and weight would render them unserviceable; but
Count Frederick of Leiningen was seen to ride down instantly to meet
his advancing allies, and by the time that night fell, two of the
wheels had been detached from the wagons, together with the axle, and
the larger cannon had been swung between them so dexterously, and with
such an even balance, that it was moved without difficulty at least
two or three hundred yards on the road to Eppenfeld.
The fall of night prevented it from being used immediately; but there
it remained just before the gates, at the distance of perhaps two
bowshots, haunting the imagination of the Baron with the thought of
its fire on the succeeding day. Still he strove to make the evening
meal pass cheerfully, and plenty of his best wine was poured forth to
raise the courage of the soldiery; but, alas, without effect. The
great gun of Landau was a sort of nightmare, which sat upon the
stomachs of the stout men-at-arms; and a better means could not have
been devised of sparing the provisions of the garrison, than by
bringing it before the gates.
Some of the garrison drank deep indeed, either from pure recklessness,
or a keen sense of danger, which they wished to get rid of by the
pleasantest process at hand; but the wine seemed all to be poured into
the great gun of Landau; for it certainly produced no greater effect
upon those who imbibed it than it would have done upon that huge mass
of wood and iron. The watch fires that were now seen blazing around
the castle on every side, showed that the Leaguer was strict, and that
no path of escape was unguarded; and though the Baron affected to be
jovial, and to laugh at the Counts and their men, who were forced to
sleep under the canopy of heaven, yet there was a wandering and
uncertain look in his eye, and an anxious glance every now and then to
the countenance of his friend Fritz, which told that the mind within
was anything but easy.
At length, as if he could bear it no longer, the Baron rose, and
beckoned his lieutenant into a little chamber in the neighbouring
tower, where the propriety of a surrender, on conditions, was formally
discussed, without any consideration of the ears that had been slit a
few hours before.
"You had better send some one out, my lord," said Fritz, "to say that
you will give up the prisoners and the treasure. I would not offer
more at first; for, depend upon it, they'll demand more, and you can
but grant at last."
"But who can I send?" said the Baron. "If I choose one of our own men,
he will either get drunk amongst the enemy, or go over to their
party."
"That's very likely," answered Fritz; "shall I go?"
"Humph! I can't spare you," said the Baron.
"Well, then, send one of the prisoners," rejoined Fritz. "If he stays,
it can't be helped; and we can offer him reward if he comes back. We
had better not let the men know anything about it."
This course was accordingly adopted. One of the men of Ehrenstein, who
seemed the most sagacious of the party, was led by Fritz to a postern
opposite to that which had been blocked up, and despatched with a
message to the two Counts. Fritz remained to watch for his return upon
the battlements above; and the Baron himself went back to the flask,
to console expectation as well as he could.
"He will be here in a couple of hours, I dare say," said the Baron;
but his enemies did not make him wait so long. At the end of an hour,
Fritz appeared with the messenger, who bore a scrap of written paper
in his hand.
"What the devil is this?" said the Baron, looking at it askance, as
the man handed it to him. "Does he think we've clerks and shavelings
here in Eppenfeld? Could he not speak plain German, and send message
for message?"
Fritz gazed at it with the same hopeless look; but the messenger
relieved them from their difficulty by saying, "He read it over to me
twice; so I can tell you what it means. Let me look at the marks,
however, to bring it in my mind. Thus it runs: 'Count Frederick of
Leiningen,'--ay, that's his name there 'and the Count of Ehrenstein to
the Baron of Eppenfeld.' He requires the immediate surrender of the
castle, the restoration of the treasure taken from the Venetian
merchants, compensation from the goods of the Baron for the wrong done
and the trouble given. 'Upon these conditions his life shall be
spared; but the castle shall be levelled with the ground, and never
rebuilt.'"
The man paused; and the Baron of Eppenfeld swore an oath, such as
probably no mouth but that of one of the robber chivalry of those days
ever contained or gave vent to. It terminated, however, with a vow,
that he would die under the ruins of his stronghold, sooner than
submit to such conditions; and his worthy lieutenant was quite sure he
would keep his word. Neither, it must be confessed, did Fritz himself
greatly differ in opinion from his lord. The castle of Eppenfeld was,
in fact, his principal means of subsistence; and, although he might
perhaps have found some other, if it were taken away, yet there was
none on the face of the earth that he thought worth living for; and a
gallant defence and death, sword in hand, were things too frequently
in the contemplation of persons in his station, to cause him much
emotion at the prospect of their being realized.
Fritz, however, was somewhat shrewder in his observations than the
Baron; and as soon as the latter had done blaspheming, the lieutenant
inquired, addressing their messenger, "Whom did you see, fellow? You
bring a letter from both the Counts; yet, when you speak of them, you
say always, 'He,' as if only one had had a hand in it."
"I saw Count Frederick of Leiningen," answered the messenger; "but he
said he had power to write for both, as my own lord was sleeping: and
now I pray you send me back as you promised. It may go worse with you,
if you do not."
"You shall go--you shall go," replied Fritz, "for you will have a
message to take back;" and then drawing the Baron aside for a moment
or two, he spoke to him eagerly in a whisper.
"By the eleven thousand virgins thou art right," cried the Lord of
Eppenfeld at length; "so shall it be. Go back, rascal," he continued,
addressing the messenger, "and tell Count Frederick that he shall rot
before Eppenfeld, and I will eat the stones thereof, before I take
such conditions. Tell him I care not for his bombards; the walls are
proof against them, and he will find this hold a harder morsel than he
thinks. That for Count Frederick!--But now mark me--seek out your own
lord privately, and say to him that I love him better than his
comrade, that I served him well in former times, and that if he will
withdraw his people, and leave me to deal with Count Frederick alone,
he shall have the treasure; but if not, I will send a message by nine
of the clock to-morrow morning to him and his friend, just to remind
him of how I did serve him many years ago. Mark me well, say every
word just as I say it;" and he repeated the whole with great accuracy.
The man promised to obey, and, again conducted by Fritz, was led out
of the castle.
"That will diminish them by one-half," said the Baron, as soon as his
lieutenant returned to him, "and then for one bold stroke and
victory."
Numerous discussions subsequently took place between the Lord of
Eppenfeld and his friend, in regard to preparations for the morrow;
numerous precautions were also taken; strict watch was enjoined; but
then, alas! the Baron and Fritz also returned to the flask, and many
others in the castle followed their example. The lieutenant, at a late
hour, betook himself to the walls, where he found all in order, and
paced up and down some time in a sort of dreamy state, where thought
and wine contended for the mastery; but the hour of three found him
sound asleep upon the battlements, with his head pillowed on a stone.
How long he remained thus Fritz did not know; but the first thing that
woke him was a tremendous explosion just below. The whole castle
shook; some of the loose stones fell from the watch-tower above, and
well it was for Fritz, at that moment, that he had his steel morion on
his head. He was hardly roused, however, his whole senses were in
confusion and disarray, when loud shouts and cries from the court rose
up, and conveyed him better intelligence of the event which had taken
place than even the explosion; there were sounds of blows, and
clashing steel, and of heavy axes falling upon wood-work, and
exclamations of "Place taken! Place taken! Yield or die!" with many a
similar speech, which showed clearly enough that the garrison was not
alone in Eppenfeld.
The want of brute courage, however, was not the defect of Fritz's
character, and the next instant he dashed down, sword in hand, to the
court, collecting one or two of his comrades as he went, and
exclaiming, "It is now for life! they will give no quarter! fight like
devils! we may yet drive them back!" But the scene that presented
itself in the court might have proved to any one willing to be
convinced, that, fight how they would, the garrison of Eppenfeld had
no chance of successful resistance. The gate had been partly blown in
by the bombard, which had been quietly drawn close up to the walls,
and was every moment presenting a wider aperture under the blows of
the axe; an overpowering number of adverse soldiery was already in the
court; others were rushing in through the gap in the gate; torches
could be seen coming up the slope, and displaying a stream of human
heads cased in iron pouring on. Everything proved that defence was
hopeless, but the Baron of Eppenfeld was already below, and with
fierce efforts, aided by some thirty of his men, was striving to drive
back the assailants and recover possession of the gateway. Fritz and
those who were with him hurried on to his assistance, and soon were
hand to hand with the enemy. Their arrival gave some new vigour to the
resistance, and the men of Leiningen and the citizens who were joined
with them, gave way a little; but fresh numbers poured in behind; the
Baron went down with a thundering blow upon his steel cap; and Fritz
received a wound in the throat which covered his cuirass with gore.
With great difficulty the Lord of Eppenfeld was raised in the press,
and borne somewhat back; but as soon as he could stand he rushed upon
the enemy again, and aimed his blows around with the fury of despair.
His men gradually gave way, however, a number fell never to rise
again; but beaten back, step by step, they were, at length, forced
against the wall of the donjon, with nothing but the narrow doorway
behind them left as a means of escape. The man who was nearest it felt
his courage yield, turned, and ran towards the postern on the east.
Some cried, "I yield, I yield! good quarter, good quarter!" Others
fled after the first, and the Baron of Eppenfeld, seeing that all was
lost, looked round with glaring eyes, doubtful whether he should seek
safety in flight by the postern into the open country, or die in arms
where he stood.
At that very moment, however, a loud voice cried, "Take him alive!
take him alive! The man with the wivern on his head!" and half a dozen
of the soldiers of Leiningen rushed towards him. One instantly went
down under a blow of his sword, but before it could fall again upon
the head of another, the rest were upon him, and the weapon was
wrenched from his grasp.
A scene of wild confusion followed, which cannot be adequately
described. There was chasing through passages and chambers, hunting
out fugitives in remote places, driving them along the walls, seeking
them in vaults and towers; and many a deep groan and shrill cry of the
death agony attested that all the barbarous cruelties of a storming
were perpetrated in the halls of Eppenfeld. Some were taken alive, but
a greater number escaped by the postern into the country. There,
however, they were almost instantly captured; for the bands of the
Count of Ehrenstein had been left to keep guard without, and only two
or three of the fugitives found their way to the woods.
In the mean time Count Frederick as soon as all resistance was over,
strode on to the hall, with a small number of his attendants who had
never left his side. There seating himself in the Baron's great chair,
he ordered the room to be cleared of all persons but two, while a
party remained to guard the door. His selection of his two councillors
was somewhat strange, for, though one was indeed a person in whom he
might be supposed to place confidence, being an old and faithful
knight who had accompanied him through all his wars while serving with
the knights of St. John, the other was no greater a personage than the
jester, who, however, took his seat beside the Count with great
gravity.
The next moment, according to orders previously given, the Baron of
Eppenfeld was brought in between two men, with all his offensive arms
taken from him, and his head uncovered. The two soldiers who guarded
him there were instantly ordered to withdraw, and what followed
between the victor and the vanquished was only known to the four who
remained. The conversation was not long, however, for in less than
five minutes the soldiers were recalled, and ordered to remove the
Baron to his own chamber, treating him with courtesy.
The man named Fritz was next called for, and while the Count's
followers were seeking for him, one of Count Frederick's knights
brought him the keys of the treasure room, and a roll of papers.
Several minutes elapsed before Fritz could be found, and just as he
was discovered at length, lying severely wounded amongst the dead in
the court, the Count of Ehrenstein, entered the castle with some of
his attendants, and after inquiring where Count Frederick was, made
his way to the hall, which he seemed to know well.
"Is the Baron living or dead?" he asked, as soon as he entered.
"Living, living, my noble friend," replied Count Frederick, in his
usual gay tone. "Caught like a badger; dug out of his hole, and biting
at all who came near him."
"He might as well have died," said the Count of Ehrenstein, with a
cloudy brow; "we shall be troubled to know what to do with him."
"Nay, if he would not be killed, we cannot help it," cried Count
Frederick; "though he seems a venomous snake indeed.--Ah! here comes
his worthy comrade, Herr Fritz!--Cannot he stand? He seems badly
hurt.--Well, noble Sir, I shall not trouble you with many questions,
You, it seems, led the party who plundered our Italian merchants;
whence got you tidings of their coming?"
"From one of your own people; Count," replied the wounded man. "I know
not his name; but the Baron can tell you."
"Where is the Baron?" demanded the Count of Ehrenstein. "I will go and
ask him."
"Nay, he is caged,--he is caged," answered Count Frederick. "We shall
have time enough to question him hereafter."
His noble companion did not seem very well satisfied with his answer,
but bent his eyes moodily on the ground; while the man Fritz took up
the conversation, in a sullen tone, saying, "I hope you will not
question me farther, my lord the Count; for I am faint from loss of
blood, and it is high time that you should either have me tended, or
end me at once."
"Nay, Heaven forfend, Herr Fritz!" exclaimed Count Frederick; "we
shall want you hereafter, since you say it was one of my men who
helped you to your rich booty. Take him away, and try and stanch the
bleeding of his wounds. Give him some wine, if they have not drunk it
all; and then bring me water, that I may wash my hands. Nay, why so
grave, my noble fellow-soldier?" he continued, turning to the Count of
Ehrenstein; "but it is true you have lived long in peace, and are not
so much accustomed as myself to see scenes of slaughter and
destruction; and yet we must leave no part of the work here undone. I
will not quit Eppenfeld while there is one beam of timber spanning
from wall to wall. Nevertheless, it is not needful that you should
stay."
"Oh, I will bear you company," said he of Ehrenstein. "It is true I
love not to see such things, yet still--"
"Nay, but it is needless," interrupted Count Frederick. "You shall
guard the prisoners and the treasure back to Ehrenstein; while I will
remain and see the nest of plunderers destroyed."
"And the Baron?" asked his friend, with a hesitating look. "He goes
with you, of course," replied Count Frederick; "only keep him safe,
for he is a wily fox."
"Oh, that I will," replied the other, with a countenance which
suddenly brightened; "yet if I could aid you here, I am quite willing
to stay."
"No need,--no need," answered Count Frederick. "I have men and means
enough."
"Well, then, I will go and prepare for departure," said the Count of
Ehrenstein, "and will give you a victor's banquet when you arrive."
Thus saying, he moved towards the door; and as he quitted the hall,
Count Frederick of Leiningen gave a meaning glance, half sad, half
sarcastic, first to the jester, and then to the old knight.