An illness followed this sudden attack; and during the course of it the
stout old knight, in the midst of his delirious ravings, did not cease
to affirm confidently that he must and should recover. He laughed
proudly when his fever-fits came on, and rebuked them for daring to
attack him so needlessly. Then he murmured to himself, “That was not
the right one yet; there must still be another one out in the cold
mountains.”
Always at such words Sintram involuntarily shuddered; they seemed to
strengthen his notion that he who had ridden with him, and he who had
sat at table in the castle, were two quite distinct persons; and he
knew not why, but this thought was inexpressibly awful to him. Biorn
recovered, and appeared to have entirely forgotten his adventure with
the palmer. He hunted in the mountains; he carried on his usual wild
warfare with his neighbours; and Sintram, as he grew up, became his
almost constant companion; whereby each year a fearful strength of body
and spirit was unfolded in the youth. Every one trembled at the sight
of his sharp pallid features, his dark rolling eyes, his tall, muscular,
and somewhat lean form; and yet no one hated him--not even those whom he
distressed or injured in his wildest humours. This might arise in part
out of regard to old Rolf, who seldom left him for long, and who always
held a softening influence over him; but also many of those who had
known the Lady Verena while she still lived in the world affirmed that a
faint reflection of her heavenly expression floated over the very unlike
features of her son, and that by this their hearts were won.
Once, just at the beginning of spring, Biorn and his son were hunting
in the neighbourhood of the sea-coast, over a tract of country which did
not belong to them; drawn thither less by the love of sport than by the
wish of bidding defiance to a chieftain whom they detested, and thus
exciting a feud. At that season of the year, when his winter dreams had
just passed off, Sintram was always unusually fierce and disposed for
warlike adventures. And this day he was enraged at the chieftain for not
coming in arms from his castle to hinder their hunting; and he cursed,
in the wildest words, his tame patience and love of peace. Just then one
of his wild young companions rushed towards him, shouting joyfully: “Be
content my dear young lord! I will wager that all is coming about as
we and you wish; for as I was pursuing a wounded deer down to the
sea-shore, I saw a sail and a vessel filled with armed men making for
the shore. Doubtless your enemy purposes to fall upon you from the
coast.”
Joyfully and secretly Sintram called all his followers together, being
resolved this time to take the combat on himself alone, and then to
rejoin his father, and astonish him with the sight of captured foes and
other tokens of victory.
The hunters, thoroughly acquainted with every cliff and rock on the
coast, hid themselves round the landing-place; and soon the strange
vessel hove nearer with swelling sails, till at length it came to
anchor, and its crew began to disembark in unsuspicious security. At
the head of them appeared a knight of high degree, in blue steel armour
richly inlaid with gold. His head was bare, for he carried his costly
golden helmet hanging on his left arm. He looked royally around him; and
his countenance, which dark brown locks shaded, was pleasant to behold;
and a well-trimmed moustache fringed his mouth, from which, as he
smiled, gleamed forth two rows of pearl-white teeth.
A feeling came across Sintram that he must already have seen this knight
somewhere; and he stood motionless for a few moments. But suddenly he
raised his hand, to make the agreed signal of attack. In vain did the
good Rolf, who had just succeeded in getting up to him, whisper in his
ear that these could not be the foes whom he had taken them for, but
that they were unknown, and certainly high and noble strangers.
“Let them be who they may,” replied the wild youth, “they have enticed
me here to wait, and they shall pay the penalty of thus fooling me. Say
not another word, if you value your life.” And immediately he gave the
signal, a thick shower of javelins followed from all sides, and the
Norwegian warriors rushed forth with flashing swords. They found their
foes as brave, or somewhat braver, than they could have desired. More
fell on the side of those who made than of those who received the
assault; and the strangers appeared to understand surprisingly the
Norwegian manner of fighting. The knight in steel armour had not in his
haste put on his helmet; but it seemed as if he in no wise needed such
protection, for his good sword afforded him sufficient defence even
against the spears and darts which were incessantly hurled at him, as
with rapid skill he received them on the shining blade, and dashed them
far away, shivered into fragments.
Sintram could not at the first onset penetrate to where this shining
hero was standing, as all his followers, eager after such a noble prey,
thronged closely round him; but now the way was cleared enough for
him to spring towards the brave stranger, shouting a war-cry, and
brandishing his sword above his head.
“Gabrielle!” cried the knight, as he dexterously parried the heavy blow
which was descending, and with one powerful sword-thrust he laid the
youth prostrate on the ground; then placing his knee on Sintram’s
breast, he drew forth a flashing dagger, and held it before his eyes as
he lay astonished. All at once the men-at-arms stood round like walls.
Sintram felt that no hope remained for him. He determined to die as it
became a bold warrior; and without giving one sign of emotion, he looked
on the fatal weapon with a steady gaze.
As he lay with his eyes cast upwards, he fancied that there appeared
suddenly from heaven a wondrously beautiful female form in a bright
attire of blue and gold. “Our ancestors told truly of the Valkyrias,”
murmured he. “Strike, then, thou unknown conqueror.”
But with this the knight did not comply, neither was it a Valkyria who
had so suddenly appeared, but the beautiful wife of the stranger,
who, having advanced to the high edge of the vessel, had thus met the
upraised look of Sintram.
“Folko,” cried she, in the softest tone, “thou knight without reproach!
I know that thou sparest the vanquished.”
The knight sprang up, and with courtly grace stretched out his hand to
the conquered youth, saying, “Thank the noble lady of Montfaucon for
your life and liberty. But if you are so totally devoid of all goodness
as to wish to resume the combat, here am I; let it be yours to begin.”
Sintram sank, deeply ashamed, on his knees, and wept; for he had often
heard speak of the high renown of the French knight Folko of Montfaucon,
who was related to his father’s house, and of the grace and beauty of
his gentle lady Gabrielle.