The citizens of Bari clustered about the harbour not knowing what to
do, and Leupold vainly sought a ship that could be got ready
immediately to pursue and overtake the robber’s vessel. At the same
moment King Rother’s horns were heard proclaiming his return. As soon
as the king was told what had happened, his decision was formed.
“We must take an army to Constantinople,” he cried. “My dear wife has
been stolen from me by force and cunning, and by force and cunning I
will win her back.”
Old Duke Berchther shook his grey head, but said that he and his men
would follow the king. Leupold, Wolfrat and the other princes of the
realm promised to do the same. Messengers were sent to bear the tidings
to all parts of the kingdom, and soon a great army was assembled.
Rother picked out the bravest warriors to accompany him, amongst whom
were Asprian and his giants; the rest he sent home. Meantime the ships
that were to bear the little army had been got ready, and after a
favourable voyage reached the neighbourhood of Constantinople. Rother
gave orders that the vessels should be run ashore in a small bay,
surrounded on all sides by a thick wood which stretched in the
direction of the city, and which would serve to conceal both ships and
men.
“We are safe here,” said Rother to his nobles. “The populace have an
unspeakable terror of this wood, which they believe to be peopled by
monsters of all sorts. Let the men encamp here, and I will go to the
city in a pilgrim’s dress and see what is going on.”
There was a general outcry at the idea of the king adventuring himself
alone in the enemy’s stronghold, and many of the princes offered to go
with him. He, therefore, consented to take the Duke of Meran and his
son Leupold. Before starting Wolfrat gave him a tiny horn, telling him
the sound it made was so shrill that it could be heard for miles around.
“As soon as we hear it,” said Asprian, “we shall come to your help with
clubs and swords.”
“Yes,” laughed Widolt, “and then there will be many a broken head, I
can promise you.”
The three pilgrims set out on their way. After going some distance they
saw a horseman coming towards them in shining armour. They asked him if
there were good news in Constantinople.
“Not at all,” he answered. “Look, King Rother gave me this coat of
mail, and my good sword, and a thousand gold pieces to boot, for I had
lost both land and wealth at the hands of miscreants; and now I find
that the Greeks have stolen away his fair wife, and are about to marry
her to that cruel demon Basilistum, son of Imelot, King of
Desert-Babylon. For, when Imelot escaped from here, he collected a
great army, and marching into the Emperor Constantine’s land, took him
prisoner, and now demands the half of his empire and the Lady Oda for
that unlicked cub, his son, who, according to the present arrangement,
is to remain here after his marriage, that Constantine may not be
deprived of his daughter’s society. All the Christians in the place
tremble to think of the persecutions that will follow. Oh that King
Rother would only come! I would join him with all my men as sure as my
name is Arnold.”
“Truly,” said Rother as they parted, “a kind action often brings
unlooked-for reward.”
The city was full of life and feasting. Imelot, Constantine, and their
followers were hobnobbing together in the banqueting room in the
greatest peace and concord, for Constantine was overjoyed at having
settled the vexed question of his daughter’s marriage without losing
her altogether. The hunchbacked bridegroom sat between his father and
his would-be father-in-law and close to sad Oda and her equally
sorrowful mother. The doors were wide open, that the populace might
come in and watch the proceedings. So the three pilgrims were able to
enter unnoticed, with their hats pulled down low over their brows. They
heard Constantine, Imelot, and Basilistum boast of how they would
scornfully entreat and hang King Rother and all his giants if they
ventured to come within their reach. During the laughter and confusion
caused by these speeches, Rother managed to slip a ring bearing his
name into his wife’s hand, and she, with a look of intense relief,
showed it to her mother.
“Rother is here,” cried the hunchbacked bridegroom suddenly. “He has
just given my wife a ring with his name engraved on it. Seek him out
and seize him.”
Swords were drawn, tables overturned, and noisy shouts heard on every
side. Rother and his companions came forward, and the former said
clearly and distinctly—
“Yes, I am here. I have come to claim my wife, and if the king of
Desert-Babylon or his hunchbacked son deny my right, I am ready to
prove it on their bodies with my good sword.”
Imelot laughed till the hall re-echoed. “Fight with _you_,” he cried,
“a poor little kinglet like _you_! No, no, you must be hung.”
“He must be hung!” repeated the courtiers.
“To the gallows with him, and his comrades too,” continued the
Babylonish king, “seize them and bind them till the blood starts from
their fingers.”
The heroes had only their pilgrim’s staves, and these were poor weapons
wherewith to defend themselves against the swords and lances that were
pointed at them. They were taken and bound. No hand was raised to help
them, although many a hardy fellow in the crowd had cause to remember
Dietrich’s kindness.
“A king,” said Rother proudly, “who has often looked death in the face
on the battle-field, knows how to die when his time comes. Let the
executioner do his work in the haunted wood, where Constantine has
already had so many innocent men put to a shameful death.”
“A good idea,” quoth the emperor grimly. “There are gallows there that
will just do to hang the stealer of women and his comrades on.”
“That is right,” laughed Imelot, “and then the monsters who inhabit the
wood will come at night and play many a merry prank with their bones.
If their friends the giants should come over the sea in search of
Rother and his crew, we will hang them too, that they may find
themselves in good company. The whole army shall see how great Imelot
revenges himself upon his foes.”
The preparations for the execution were finished in a few hours, and
the prisoners were borne to the haunted wood amidst an immense crowd
and the music of drums and trumpets. The populace were curious to see a
king hanged.
“And so it is Dietrich, kind Dietrich,” sighed one; while another
laughed and answered, “What does that matter to us? It is all the same
whether a man is a king or a beggar when he comes to be hung.” “Ah
yes,” said a third, “the rope is an uncomfortable necktie for any man,
but that it should be tried on a crowned head is a thing I never
expected to see.”
The procession arrived at its destination. The prisoners were led to
the foot of the gallows.
“Be of good cheer, Sir King,” said the executioner; “you once gave me a
handful of gold pieces, and to show you my gratitude I have provided a
silken rope for you, that will do the business very quickly. The other
two gentlemen must put up with common hemp, I am sorry to say. By St.
Michael, I never did a day’s work before, that I liked so ill.”
“Pray loose my hands for a moment, good fellow,” asked Rother, “that I
may say a prayer.”
“A pious wish,” replied the man. “I will also pray to my patron saint,
and beg him to take you straight to heaven from the gallows-tree.”
He loosed the king’s hands as he spoke, and then began to pray.
Meanwhile Rother drew out his horn from under the pilgrim’s mantle,
where it was concealed. Three times its wild call sounded over mountain
and valley, like a cry for help to the faithful friends who were
waiting fully armed in the depths of the wood. But King Imelot, growing
impatient, commanded that the executioner should himself be hung if he
delayed any further to do his duty. The man was frightened and began to
bind Rother’s hands again; but at that moment a loud noise was heard in
the background.
It was Arnold, who, with his men, had joined Rother’s other friends,
and who now came with them to the rescue of his former benefactor.
There was a fearful battle. Imelot and many more fell fighting
desperately, while Basilistum was slain during the flight. The whole
army of Desert-Babylon was scattered or destroyed.
After the victory King Rother asked for the emperor, but found that
Constantine had thought “prudence the better part of valour,” and had
long before fled to the palace, where he had taken refuge in the
women’s apartments. His courage had all ebbed away, and he begged his
wife and daughter to entreat Rother to save him out of the hand of the
giants, those veritable children of the evil one. The ladies were soon
ready to go out and meet the ruler of the West. They placed the timid
emperor in their midst, and accompanied by a numerous train, set out
for the wood. The first people they met were the giants. Asprian’s
falcon-eyes at once spied out the emperor, carefully as he tried to
hide himself. Stretching his long arm over the empress, he seized him
by the scruff of the neck and flung him on the ground. Widolt raised
his club to put an end to him as he lay there senseless, but his master
stopped him, saying—
“Not so, Widolt; away with the miserable wretch to the gallows.”
The giant caught the emperor up as easily as if he had been a baby, and
went dancing along the road to the gallows with him in his arms. But
they soon came up with Rother and his heroes, and the king pardoned
Constantine. He could not have done otherwise: his wife was once more
in his arms, and where love rules, wrath and vengeance have no place.
When they all met in the banqueting room that evening, the emperor
found himself unusually hungry after the many and varied emotions he
had gone through, and it is said that he devoured a whole leg of
mutton, and drank an immense quantity of wine.
King Rother left the whole of the Eastern empire, which he had just
conquered, in the hands of his father-in-law, and then set sail for
Bari accompanied by Queen Oda. Arrived there, they went on to Rome,
where a second marriage was solemnized with great pomp. Rother and his
wife lived long and happily together, and had many children. We shall
hear pleasant things of their daughter Herka (or Herche, Helche), and
their grand-daughter Herat, as time goes on.
[Illustration: ORTNIT AND ALBERICH.]
III.
ORTNIT
A great king once lived in Lombardy; he was richer and more powerful
than any other monarch far or near. His name was Ortnit, and his
dominions extended over the whole of Italy from the Alps to the sea,
and even included Sicily. The neighbouring kings were all his vassals,
for, possessing the strength of twelve ordinary men, he was, of course,
victorious in every battle. And yet he was not contented. An inward
unrest prevented him from enjoying his wealth and greatness. He often
sat dreamily at table, tasting nothing, and deaf to all that was being
said around him; deaf even to the minstrels, when they sang songs in
his praise. He frequently wandered alone up in the mountains, seeking
adventures, slaying robbers, and destroying the wild beasts that preyed
upon the farmers’ flocks and herds. But this did not satisfy him; he
sighed for something more.
One day when he was standing, as he often did, on the sea-shore,
watching the waves that rose and fell, tinted by the light of the
setting sun, a mist came up out of the water. A few minutes more, and
it parted slowly like a veil, showing a wondrous sight. It was that of
a castle with towers and barbican, and on the battlements stood a woman
such as he had never seen before in all his travels. He could not take
his eyes off her. The effect of her beauty on him was like enchantment.
Then the mist gradually closed again, and lady and castle vanished as
completely as if they had never been.
While Ortnit was still staring at the place where he had seen the lady,
he heard a step behind him. “Ah, it is she!” he thought, and turning
quickly, clasped and kissed—bearded Ylyas (Eligas, or Elias), prince
of the wild Reussen, who was his uncle. The new comer returned the
embrace heartily, and then said:
“You are a good lad to receive your mother’s brother with as much
transport as a lover his sweetheart, but you have been gazing at a bit
of sorcery down there, and that accounts for a great deal. Try to
forget what you have seen, or your royal head may soon be displayed
from the towers of Muntabure, where the lovely witch lives with that
old heathen, her father.”
“She is a real person then,” cried Ortnit quickly. “She must be mine. I
would stake my life to win her.”
“What is that you say?” answered Ylyas. “A king’s head for a woman’s
curl! That would make a new song for the minstrels to sing in Lombardy.”
“How am I to find her?” asked the king. “Tell me the story, which I
suppose some wandering fiddler has sung.”
“Why, nephew,” replied the elder man, “I have seen with my own eyes and
have heard with my own ears what I am now going to tell you. It is no
minstrel’s tale I am going to amuse you with. Machorell is the name of
the maiden’s father, and he is ruler of Syria, Jerusalem, and other
eastern lands. When I was returning from my pilgrimage to the holy
sepulchre, I arrived one evening at the gates of Castle Muntabure,
weary and footsore, and the Saracen porter had compassion on me, took
me in, and showed me no little kindness. Then it was that I saw the
wicked heathen king, whose skin is as black as that of a Moor, and also
the beautiful princess Sidrat. I heard it said that he intended to
marry his own daughter, when her sick mother was dead, and that was why
he cut off the heads of all the wooers who came to ask for the
princess’s hand in marriage. Seventy-two skulls already grin from the
towers of Castle Muntabure. Say, bold youth, do you intend to offer
your head to the Moorish king as the seventy-third?”
“I have been through many a strange adventure before now,” returned
Ortnit, “and I shall try to get the better of the infidel.”
On the following day the notables of the realm were summoned to a
council. The king told them that he intended to make a campaign in
Syria, and desired their help in calling together his army. After many
attempts to dissuade Ortnit from such a fantastic enterprise, all was
at last settled as he wished, even to the appointment of the governors
and deputy-governors in whose hands the country was to be left during
his absence. The only person besides the king who carried his point was
Ylyas, who insisted on his right to go to Syria or anywhere else he
chose, and expressed his firm determination not to lose sight of his
nephew.
As the council were separating, Zacharis appeared. He was Lord of
Apulia and Sicily, a heathen, but a faithful comrade of the king. When
he heard what they had settled, he at once announced his readiness to
provide a ship to take the armament across the sea, for which offer the
king thanked him warmly. On the advice of Ylyas, it was agreed to put
off the expedition until spring, when the weather would be more
favourable for a sea voyage.
So the king had to smother his impatience as best he might. He was very
lonely, for he knew that no one quite sympathized with him. His mother,
indeed, did her best to persuade him to give up the enterprise, by
setting its dangers plainly before him, and telling him how ridiculous
it was to be so much in love with a woman whom he had only seen in a
vision, and about whose character and disposition he knew nothing. He
fretted against the idleness and uniformity of the life he was leading,
and determined to ride up into the mountains for something to do. When
he went to take leave of his mother, she begged him not to go, for fear
of some accident happening to him; but, finding that he was not to be
dissuaded, she took a ring from her finger, saying, “If you are
determined to go, take this ring. The gold is thin, and the stone of
little apparent value, but it possesses a magic power that could not be
bought with a kingdom. Go where you like in the wild mountains, but
first of all ride down the road to the left, that leads over the
heights to the lake, then sideways under a wall of rock to the valley.
Look about till you find a spring gushing out of a rock, and, close to
it, a great lime-tree; there you will have a more wonderful experience
than any you could imagine.”
Her voice trembled with nervous excitement, and her tearful eyes seemed
to entreat him to ask her no questions.