“He is dead! the horrors of that fearful stormy night have killed him!”
Thus said, about this time, some of Biorn’s retainers, who had not
been able to bring him back to his senses since the morning of the day
before: they had made a couch of wolf and bear skins for him in the
great hall, in the midst of the armour which still lay scattered around.
One of the esquires said with a low sigh: “The Lord have mercy on his
poor wild soul!”
Just then the warder blew his horn from his tower, and a trooper came
into the room with a look of surprise. “A knight is coming hither,”
said he; “a wonderful knight. I could have taken him for our Lord
Sintram--but a bright, bright morning cloud floats so close before him,
and throws over him such a clear light, that one could fancy red flowers
were showered down upon him. Besides, his horse has a wreath of red
leaves on his head, which was never a custom of the son of our dead
lord.”
“Just such a one,” replied another, “I wove for him yesterday. He was
not pleased with it at first, but afterwards he let it remain.”
“But why didst thou that?”
“It seemed to me as if I heard a voice singing again and again in my
ear: ‘Victory! victory! the noblest victory! The knight rides forth
to victory!’ And then I saw a branch of our oldest oak-tree stretched
towards me, which had kept on almost all its red and yellow leaves in
spite of the snow. So I did according to what I had heard sung; and I
plucked some of the leaves, and wove a triumphal wreath for the noble
war-horse. At the same time Skovmark,--you know that the faithful beast
had always a great dislike to Biorn, and therefore had gone to the
stable with the horse,--Skovmark jumped upon me, fawning, and seemed
pleased, as if he wanted to thank me for my work; and such noble animals
understand well about good prognostics.”
They heard the sound of Sintram’s spurs on the stone steps, and
Skovmark’s joyous bark. At that instant the supposed corpse of old
Biorn sat up, looked around with rolling, staring eyes, and asked of the
terrified retainers in a hollow voice, “Who comes there, ye people? who
comes there? I know it is my son. But who comes with him? The answer
to that bears the sword of decision in its mouth. For see, good people,
Gotthard and Rudlieb have prayed much for me; yet if the little Master
come with him, I am lost in spite of them.”
“Thou art not lost, my beloved father!” Sintram’s kind voice was heard
to say, as he softly opened the door, and the bright red morning cloud
floated in with him.
Biorn joined his hands, cast a look of thankfulness up to heaven, and
said, smiling, “Yes, praised be God! it is the right companion! It is
sweet gentle death!” And then he made a sign to his son to approach,
saying, “Come here, my deliverer; come, blessed of the Lord, that I may
relate to thee all that has passed within me.”
As Sintram now sat close by his father’s couch, all who were in the room
perceived a remarkable and striking change. For old Biorn, whose whole
countenance, and not his eyes alone, had been wont to have a fiery
aspect, was now quite pale, almost like white marble; while, on the
other hand, the cheeks of the once deadly pale Sintram glowed with a
bright bloom like that of early youth. It was caused by the morning
cloud which still shone upon him, whose presence in the room was rather
felt than seen; but it produced a gentle thrill in every heart.
“See, my son,” began the old man, softly and mildly, “I have lain for
a long time in a death-like sleep, and have known nothing of what was
going on around me; but within,--ah! within, I have known but too much!
I thought that my soul would be destroyed by the eternal anguish; and
yet again I felt, with much greater horror, that my soul was eternal
like that anguish. Beloved son, thy cheeks that glowed so brightly are
beginning to grow pale at my words. I refrain from more. But let me
relate to you something more cheering. Far, far away, I could see a
bright lofty church, where Gotthard and Rudlieb Lenz were kneeling and
praying for me. Gotthard had grown very old, and looked almost like
one of our mountains covered with snow, on which the sun, in the lovely
evening hours, is shining; and Rudlieb was also an elderly man, but very
vigorous and very strong; and they both, with all their strength and
vigour, were calling upon God to aid me, their enemy. Then I heard a
voice like that of an angel, saying, ‘His son does the most for him! He
must this night wrestle with death and with the fallen one! His victory
will be victory, and his defeat will be defeat, for the old man and
himself.’ Thereupon I awoke; and I knew that all depended upon whom thou
wouldst bring with thee. Thou hast conquered. Next to God, the praise be
to thee!”
“Gotthard and Rudlieb have helped much,” replied Sintram; “and, beloved
father, so have the fervent prayers of the chaplain of Drontheim. I
felt, when struggling with temptation and deadly fear, how the heavenly
breath of holy men floated round me and aided me.”
“I am most willing to believe that, my noble son, and everything thou
sayest to me,” answered the old man; and at the same moment the chaplain
also coming in, Biorn stretched out his hand towards him with a smile of
peace and joy. And now all seemed to be surrounded with a bright circle
of unity and blessedness. “But see,” said old Biorn, “how the faithful
Skovmark jumps upon me now, and tries to caress me. It is not long since
he used always to howl with terror when he saw me.”
“My dear lord,” said the chaplain, “there is a spirit dwelling in good
beasts, though dreamy and unconscious.”
As the day wore on, the stillness in the hall increased. The last
hour of the aged knight was drawing near, but he met it calmly and
fearlessly. The chaplain and Sintram prayed beside his couch. The
retainers knelt devoutly around. At length the dying man said: “Is that
the prayer-bell in Verena’s cloister?” Sintram’s looks said yea; while
warm tears fell on the colourless cheeks of his father. A gleam shone in
the old man’s eyes, the morning cloud stood close over him, and then the
gleam, the morning cloud, and life with them, departed from him.