Had the Count of Ehrenstein and old Karl von Mosbach spoken loud and
distinctly when they visited the door of Ferdinand's prison, the
captive must have heard the pleasant arrangements making for his
transmission to another world; for although the door was stout and
thick, so as to be itself impervious to any sound, yet the pavement
had sunk away from it, or it had shrunk from the pavement, leaving a
vacancy of at least two fingers-breadths. But the nature of their
conversation was such as to subdue the voice, even though they thought
that no one could overhear them, and all that caught Ferdinand's ear
was the indistinct murmur of tones which were well known to him. They
soon ceased, however, and he heard the sound of slowly retreating
steps. After a pause, to insure that they were gone, he raised his
voice, and inquired, "Is any friend near?" No reply was made, and
though he repeated the question, all remained silent. "Well," he said
to himself, "if any one comes to my deliverance, he will doubtless
come at the right time; so I will even follow the counsel given, and
eat and drink heartily."
The food, the wine and the hopes that had been given him, revived the
spirits of the young captive, and his meditations, instead of being
continued upon death, and the loss of all he loved and valued, were
carried vaguely over a thousand circumstances connected with his
situation; the strange events that so frequently interrupted the
ordinary course of proceedings in the castle, the special care which
seemed so mysteriously taken of himself, and the question of how and
when it was all to end. Adelaide, too,--he thought of Adelaide often
and deeply; and thrilling, painful apprehensions for her frequently
crossed his mind; for though he felt sure that her father's anger
would not fall so heavily upon her as upon him, yet he well knew that
she would not be suffered to escape without some severity, and he
thought that she was less able to bear it than he was. How would she
act? he asked himself--what would she say when questioned? But these
ideas raised up others, and they again mingled themselves with fresh
associations; Adelaide's conduct in the past puzzled him even more
than the question of what might be her conduct in the present or the
future. What was it, he asked himself, which had caused so great and
sudden a change in her demeanour, which had rendered her--so timid and
apprehensive in the first dawning of their love--in a moment willing,
eager, anxious to unite her fate with his, although no objection
seemed removed, no danger lessened. It seemed very strange; and,
connected with the sights he had seen, and the words he had heard from
beings whose nature and properties were all a matter of doubt and
mystery, it led to still deeper thoughts and inquiries--why should
spirits thus be suffered to revisit the earth where their mortal
career was terminated?--Or rather, was it not very natural, that if
judgment did not immediately follow dissolution, and the souls of the
dead were not instantly transferred to endless joy or endless sorrow,
they should be allowed to haunt the scenes in which the sins of earth
had been perpetrated by the wicked, or the virtues of the good had
been exercised, and to witness, mingle with, and take part in the
results of their own past deeds, as they affected living men?
Such thoughts whiled away some hours, and, in the mean time, the
sounds in the castle ceased one by one, till all became still; but
sleep had no power over Ferdinand's eyes, and he was still sitting
rapt in meditation, with his back leaning against the stone wall, and
his arms crossed upon his chest, when the same voice was heard again,
making him instantly start up, "Ferdinand," said the voice, "it is
time to go."
"But how can I go?" he demanded, "and where?"
"Hast thou not a key?" demanded the voice; "the master key of all
these doors."
"Nay," answered Ferdinand; "I was obliged to give it to another to
bear tidings of our fate to the priest."
"Take up the lamp, then," said the voice, "and approach the stone in
the middle of the pavement."
The young man did as he was bidden, and beheld a large slab of
slate-coloured stone, with some old characters engraved upon it. They
were,
Beneath this stone lieth the body of
Wolfgang of Spires,
Who built this Castle from the Foundation to the third story of
the Keep,
In the space of three-and-twenty years,
At the end of which he was called to a Mansion not built with hands.
He rests in peace.
Ferdinand gazed upon it, holding down the lamp, and reading the rude
letters with some difficulty, mentally inquiring, as he did so, "What
has this to do with me?" But suddenly he thought some wind had made
the flame of the lamp quiver, for the letters seemed to shake, and
then the stone began to rise slowly in two-thirds of its length, the
other third being depressed, as it moved upon a pivot. When at its
full height, the wooden rounds of a ladder were perceived, and the
voice said, "Descend."
A doubt flashed through Ferdinand's mind, as to whether this might not
be a means of consigning him to a nameless and unrecorded death; but
it instantly passed away, as all the events which had lately taken
place crowded upon his memory; and, without showing any hesitation, he
began the descent, carrying the lamp in his hand. As his foot touched
the ground below, he gazed around, but all was vacant, and he found
himself in a vault or monumental chapel, against the east side of
which was placed a stone altar, with mouldering ornaments upon it, and
to the north a marble tomb, surmounted by a recumbent figure in a
burgomaster's gown, with the face turned to the altar, and the right
hand holding a mason's rule. Opposite to the altar, on the west, was
an old wooden door, partly open, and in a state of complete decay, and
as the young gentleman turned towards it, the voice said, "Go
forward." Still obeying implicitly, Ferdinand of Altenburg advanced,
and pushed open the door. Before him was a long passage, and as he
walked on he heard a sound of clanging steps, as of men walking over a
stone pavement, in arms. There was no door to the right or left, and
nothing to be seen but cold walls of rudely finished masonry, except
as he approached the end, where a flight of stone steps led upwards as
if into the castle again. Ferdinand hesitated for a moment at the
foot; but then, as he had been told to advance, and there was no other
way of doing so, he proceeded till he had numbered thirty steps, and
then found himself at the end of a narrow passage, leading to the
right. On his left hand was a row of small fretted arches, filled up
with stone; but on the other hand, where the same decoration appeared,
though the lower part was closed with masonry, the fanciful stonework
in the point of each lancet arch was left clear, as if to give air to
the sort of gallery in which he stood, and a faint light shone through
the apertures from some chamber beyond. There was a sound, too, rose
up, as if he was raised high above a chamber full of people, and
approaching one of the arches, with natural curiosity, the young
fugitive looked through. He then discovered that he was in a gallery
at the end of the great old hall, but raised as high as the capitals
of the columns, and below him a strange sight presented itself by the
faint light which reigned in the hall. It was somewhat different from
that which Adelaide beheld; for, although there was the same range of
armed forms, stretching in line towards the great door at the other
end, the chair of state was vacant. No motion was observed in the
figures underneath: each stood in his arms like a statue, but yet
there was a faint murmur, as if they spoke in low tones, and Ferdinand
felt tempted almost to pause, and see what would follow. Ere he had
done more than take one hasty glance around, however, a voice,
seemingly close to his ear, said, "Enough! go on;" and obeying, as he
had done before, he advanced along the gallery to the end. There was
no possibility of mistaking his way; for, with a sharp turn to the
left, the passage led to the top of another flight of stone steps,
down which he went, and suddenly found himself close to the top of the
well-staircase, which he had descended more than once before, but on
the other side. His way was now clear before him, and entering the
serfs' burial-vault, he hurried on, pausing not for a moment to look
at the various ghastly objects it contained, till he reached the door
leading to the crypt of the chapel. Going in amongst the wilderness of
tombs and monuments within, he hastened forward towards the door at
the other end, when a voice suddenly called to him,
"Ferdinand of Altenburg! gay bridegroom, whither away?" and a long,
wild laugh rang through the pillared arches.
He started, and turned round. The sounds appeared to come from an old
tomb, on which stood a figure in chain mail. The right hand extended,
seemed pointing at him with its truncheon; and Ferdinand fancied that
he saw it move; but though he advanced straight towards it, the figure
remained still and motionless, and on touching it he felt that it was
marble. Raising the lamp above his head, till the flame almost touched
the arch that sprang from the short pillar at his side, he gazed
forward into the gloom, but nothing was apparent; and the instant
after, the flame was suddenly blown out, and he felt himself grasped
by a strong hand on either side. He strove to free himself by a quick,
sharp struggle; but in vain. The two hands held him as if the fingers
had been of iron, and a superstitious awe, mingling with apprehensions
of a more tangible character, perhaps, deprived him of some of his
strength and agility. Not a word was spoken while he strove in that
vice-like grasp, and even when he desisted from his useless efforts,
all remained dull and silent. There seemed something very terrible to
his fancy in being thus fixed, as it were by a power that he could not
resist, to one spot, in darkness and in silence. "In the name of
Heaven!" he exclaimed at length, "who are you?"
"We are friendly," said a voice, "to you, and to your race, if we are
foes to all other earthly beings. Come, and come quietly, for we will
guide you to safety;" and at the same time the hands that held him
forced him gently forward, through parts of the vault he had never
explored. They went slowly, and well they might, for everything before
them was as dark as the pit of Acheron; but yet they seemed never to
miss their way, and as they advanced, no halt, no stumble took place;
no sound of footfall upon the damp earth of the vault was heard. It
seemed long to Ferdinand, though perhaps the time that passed was
really not more than five minutes, ere a sudden pause was made, and a
door opened, for he could feel the free air blow upon his face, and a
pale light began to shine under the arches where he stood. The next
instant something like a large mantle was thrown over him, and the
hood drawn far down upon his face; and then, still held fast by either
arm, he was hurried forth into the open air. He thought he crossed a
court of the castle, and then went through another arched passage, but
he could not see, for the night was dark, and the cowl over his eyes.
But then, again, he felt that he was passing through the wood, for the
ground became rough and uneven, the wind rattled through the leaves,
and every now and then a thin branch struck him as he passed. Rapidly
down the side of the hill they went upon their way; and now he could
hear the footfall of several others besides his own; at length,
however, they stopped again, and a wild neigh just before them gave
notice that a horse was near at hand. The voice which had before
spoken, now said aloud, "Watch, and be ready," and all remained silent
for nearly half an hour.
Ferdinand would fain have questioned those who held him in their
hands, but at the first word he uttered, the voice replied, in a low,
stern tone, "Peace, if you would live!" In two or three minutes after,
a rapid step was heard; and then a voice, which seemed to Ferdinand
very like the rough and inharmonious tongue of the Baron of Eppenfeld,
exclaimed, "Ay, here's the horse. He has kept his word;" but then,
again, the voice which had spoken before, exclaimed, "Now!" There was
a sound of rushing through the trees, a brief struggle, a few
smothered curses, and then the words. "Bring him along!"