CHAPTER 6_Sintram and His Companions

The Lord of Montfaucon looked with astonishment at his strange foe; and

as he gazed on him more and more, recollections arose in his mind of

that northern race from whom he was descended, and with whom he had

always maintained friendly relations. A golden bear’s claw, with which

Sintram’s cloak was fastened, at length made all clear to him.

“Have you not,” said he, “a valiant and far-famed kinsman, called the

Sea-king Arinbiorn, who carries on his helmet golden vulture-wings? And

is not your father the knight Biorn? For surely the bear’s claw on your

mantle must be the cognisance of your house.”

Sintram assented to all this, in deep and humble shame.

The Knight of Montfaucon raised him from the ground, and said gravely,

yet gently, “We are, then, of kin the one to the other; but I could

never have believed that any one of our noble house would attack

a peaceful man without provocation, and that, too, without giving

warning.”

“Slay me at once,” answered Sintram, “if indeed I am worthy to die by so

noble hands. I can no longer endure the light of day.”

“Because you have been overcome?” asked Montfaucon. Sintram shook his

head.

“Or is it, rather, because you have committed an unknightly action?”

The glow of shame that overspread the youth’s countenance said yes to

this.

“But you should not on that account wish to die,” continued Montfaucon.

“You should rather wish to live, that you may prove your repentance, and

make your name illustrious by many noble deeds; for you are endowed with

a bold spirit and with strength of limb, and also with the eagle-glance

of a chieftain. I should have made you a knight this very hour, if you

had borne yourself as bravely in a good cause as you have just now in

a bad. See to it, that I may do it soon. You may yet become a vessel of

high honour.”

A joyous sound of shawms and silver rebecks interrupted his discourse.

The lady Gabrielle, bright as the morning, had now come down from the

ship, surrounded by her maidens; and, instructed in a few words by Folko

who was his late foe, she took the combat as some mere trial of arms,

saying, “You must not be cast down, noble youth, because my wedded lord

has won the prize; for be it known to you, that in the whole world there

is but one knight who can boast of not having been overcome by the Baron

of Montfaucon. And who can say,” continued she, sportively, “whether

even that would have happened, had he not set himself to win back the

magic ring from me, his lady-love, destined to him, as well by the

choice of my own heart as by the will of Heaven!”

Folko, smiling, bent his head over the snow-white hand of his lady; and

then bade the youth conduct them to his father’s castle.

Rolf took upon himself to see to the disembarking of the horses and

valuables of the strangers, filled with joy at the thought that an angel

in woman’s form had appeared to soften his beloved young master, and

perhaps even to free him from that early curse.

Sintram sent messengers in all directions to seek for his father, and

to announce to him the arrival of his noble guests. They therefore

found the old knight in his castle, with everything prepared for their

reception. Gabrielle could not enter the vast dark-looking building

without a slight shudder, which was increased when she saw the rolling

fiery eyes of its lord; even the pale, dark-haired Sintram seemed to her

very fearful; and she sighed to herself, “Oh! what an awful abode have

you brought me to visit, my knight! Would that we were once again in my

sunny Gascony, or in your knightly Normandy!”

But the grave yet courteous reception, the deep respect paid to her

grace and beauty, and to the high fame of Folko, helped to re-assure

her; and soon her bird-like pleasure in novelties was awakened through

the strange significant appearance of this new world. And besides, it

could only be for a passing moment that any womanly fears found a place

in her breast when her lord was near at hand, for well did she know what

effectual protection that brave Baron was ever ready to afford to all

those who were dear to him, or committed to his charge.

Soon afterwards Rolf passed through the great hall in which Biorn and

his guests were seated, conducting their attendants, who had charge of

the baggage, to their rooms. Gabrielle caught sight of her favourite

lute, and desired a page to bring it to her, that she might see if the

precious instrument had been injured by the sea-voyage. As she bent over

it with earnest attention, and her taper fingers ran up and down

the strings, a smile, like the dawn of spring, passed over the dark

countenances of Biorn and his son; and both said, with an involuntary

sigh, “Ah! if you would but play on that lute, and sing to it! It would

be but too beautiful!” The lady looked up at them, well pleased, and

smiling her assent, she began this song:--

“Songs and flowers are returning,

And radiant skies of May,

Earth her choicest gifts is yielding,

But one is past away.

The spring that clothes with tend’rest green

Each grove and sunny plain,

Shines not for my forsaken heart,

Brings not my joys again.

Warble not so, thou nightingale,

Upon thy blooming spray,

Thy sweetness now will burst my heart,

I cannot bear thy lay.

For flowers and birds are come again,

And breezes mild of May,

But treasured hopes and golden hours

Are lost to me for aye!”

The two Norwegians sat plunged in melancholy thought; but especially

Sintram’s eyes began to brighten with a milder expression, his cheeks

glowed, every feature softened, till those who looked at him could

have fancied they saw a glorified spirit. The good Rolf, who had stood

listening to the song, rejoiced thereat from his heart, and devoutly

raised his hands in pious gratitude to heaven. But Gabrielle’s

astonishment suffered her not to take her eyes from Sintram. At last she

said to him, “I should much like to know what has so struck you in that

little song. It is merely a simple lay of the spring, full of the

images which that sweet season never fails to call up in the minds of my

countrymen.”

“But is your home really so lovely, so wondrously rich in song?” cried

the enraptured Sintram. “Then I am no longer surprised at your heavenly

beauty, at the power which you exercise over my hard, wayward heart! For

a paradise of song must surely send such angelic messengers through the

ruder parts of the world.” And so saying, he fell on his knees before

the lady in an attitude of deep humility. Folko looked on all the while

with an approving smile, whilst Gabrielle, in much embarrassment, seemed

hardly to know how to treat the half-wild, half-tamed young stranger.

After some hesitation, however, she held out her fair hand to him, and

said as she gently raised him: “Surely one who listens with such delight

to music must himself know how to awaken its strains. Take my lute, and

let us hear a graceful inspired song.”

But Sintram drew back, and would not take the instrument; and he said,

“Heaven forbid that my rough untutored hand should touch those delicate

strings! For even were I to begin with some soft strains, yet before

long the wild spirit which dwells in me would break out, and there would

be an end of the form and sound of the beautiful instrument. No, no;

suffer me rather to fetch my own huge harp, strung with bears’ sinews

set in brass, for in truth I do feel myself inspired to play and sing.”

Gabrielle murmured a half-frightened assent; and Sintram having quickly

brought his harp, began to strike it loudly, and to sing these words

with a voice no less powerful:

“Sir knight, sir knight, oh! whither away

With thy snow-white sail on the foaming spray?”