Of the Ghosts and wild Hunters in the Hartz forest.
About this time, lo! there came riding over the mountains of the
Hartz forest, a party of warriors heavily armed, that formed the escort
of a noble lady, who was also on horseback. The shades of night had now
descended around them; and the increasing gloom of the deep-blue sky
contrasted strangely with the white snow-covered hills and the faded
autumnal woods. The full moon indeed shone in heaven; but ever and anon
there came across her orb dark clouds like raven’s wings, through which
her light could scarcely penetrate. The travellers soon perceived that
they must have lost their way, and sent out now and then a horseman to
discover, if possible, the right track; whereupon, also, he blew his
war-horn for a signal, but was answered only by the wild echoes of that
solitude; and oftentimes his horse would start suddenly back from some
fearful precipice, or from the strange spectral shadows thrown by the
naked oak-trees on the snow. Only one of the horses, whose light-brown
colour distinguished him, even amid the pale moonlight, from all the
rest, was able to carry his rider safely up hill and down hill, through
the roughest ground; and by that means it came to pass, that a road
was found into a valley, wherein lay the beaten track, which they had
wished to discover. Here, too, the same knight in his dark mail, with
his light-brown steed, continued to lead the way; and the courteous
reader doubtless knows already that this was Sir Otto von Trautwangen,
who, with the Lady Hildiridur, Sir Heerdegen of Lichtenried, and the
sea-monarch, was thus far on his journey homeward from the north.
The beaten track through the valley now led them towards a cottage
that lay under a high precipitous cliff, and was overhung by pine-trees
bending under their load of snow. At the approach of the troop, light
suddenly broke forth from a window of the cottage, and this light being
reflected in the frozen waters of the valley frightened the horses,
so that the riders could scarcely keep their seats. Sir Otto alone,
trusting to his faithful charger, thought not of his own safety, but
carefully held by the reins the palfrey that bore the Lady Hildiridur.
“Welcome, thrice welcome, noble guests,” said a swarthy figure of a
charcoal-burner, who had now come to the door. “You will do well, for
want of better lodgings, to remain with me for this night; for the road
becomes ever more steep and more slippery as you advance; besides,
there are ghosts and spirits abroad; and, as I now perceive, you have a
noble lady under your protection.”
Willingly did the party accept the kind offer of this man. Sir Otto
straightway lifted Hildiridur from her palfrey, and carried her into
the cottage, while the rest provided as well as they could for their
wearied horses; for even the Knight of Trautwangen’s light-brown now
suffered himself to be attended by the sea-monarch, having become
well acquainted with him on their long journey, so that even with Sir
Arinbiorn’s dun charger he now lived in peace and friendship.
When the travellers had now assembled all together in the
charcoal-burner’s hut, the graceful knights, with their magnificent
coats-of-mail, contrasted indeed strangely with its narrow and
low-roofed chamber. Their weighty helmets threatened to break down a
table in one corner on which they had been deposited, while the tall
plumes reached almost to the ceiling. Opposite to these was placed,
like a trophy, in another corner, a collection of great battle-swords,
that glittered wondrously with their golden hilts and brass-bound
scabbards in the clear fire-light. Near this collection of weapons,
and beside the charcoal-man’s mother, was seated the Lady Hildiridur.
The old woman was blind, yet had regular features; and as she sat
there in her abstraction and solitude, it was a pleasure to behold
how she gradually became aware of the Druda’s presence, as if indeed
a gleam of the moon-like radiance of Hildiridur’s eyes had fallen on
the dark night in which her existence had hitherto been dreamed away.
A smile stole over her before fixed and pale visage; and meanwhile the
charcoal-burner moved to and fro, anxious to promote, as much as it was
in his power, the comfort of his guests. He had store of good wine,
wherewith he entertained the knights, and, on their invitation, drank
freely and merrily along with them. “Methinks,” said Sir Heerdegen to
his host, “thou should’st now relate to us for pastime some long and
frightful story. Charcoal-men and miners in the Hartz forest seldom
fail to have an abundant store of such legends.” “Alas!” said the
charcoal-man, “in this country there is indeed no reason why we should
task our own invention, or feel at a loss for such pastime; in our
wild woods we meet enough of such adventures, only this is no fitting
hour to speak of such things.” “Wherefore not?” said Sir Heerdegen;
“methinks such an hour were of all the most suitable. Hearest thou not
how the night-wind whistles at the window, and anon speaks to us almost
as with a human voice of lamentation? Then, too, the old pine-trees
are beating with their branches on the cottage, like giants with their
ponderous arms, and as if they would break through the roof and stare
in upon us with ghastly faces. Methinks there could never be found a
better time for such legends than the present.” “Ay, ay,” answered the
charcoal-man; “if one spoke only in jest, or told stories of what has
happened a thousand miles hence, I should be as well content with this
hour as with any other. But now the case is indeed very different; the
ghosts and demons of whom we should speak are far too near at hand, and
if we should provoke them, will attack and torment us even to death.”
“What sayest thou, son,” said the old woman; “are there any fearful
sights? Hast thou heard any growling without? Children, children, there
comes again a cold shuddering, that creeps over my heart!”--“Mark
you, sirs,” said the charcoal-man; offering his mother a cup of wine;
“even in her old age and blindness she feels the same terror of which
I have spoken. In her deafness, too, she hears not a word that has
been uttered, nor even the rolling of the loudest thunder; but if the
ghosts that haunt us are rustling through the wood, or even if I began
to speak of such beings, then immediately she marks that all is not as
it should be, and begins to tremble in every limb.” “On this account
there should be no difficulty,” answered Sir Heerdegen; “let the old
woman retire to rest, and then you may proceed quietly with the stories
which you have to tell. It is not merely for the sake of pastime that
we would listen to such narratives; but as brave knights, it is our
duty to try whether we could not relieve you from the distress that the
ghosts and demons here bring upon you.” In this notion he was supported
by the two other knights; and the charcoal-man accordingly did as Sir
Heerdegen had directed; and after his mother had retired to sleep, he
related what here follows:--
“On the summit of a mountain in our forest stands an old pagan altar,
a place of sacrifice, marked by many great blocks of granite stone.
Our wood-cutters would seldom or never go thither, on account of the
frightful stories they had heard of the human victims that were there
sacrificed. For my part, however, I have always thought, since the
accursed reign of paganism is now for ever past and gone, of what
consequence is that circle of old weather-beaten stones; therefore I
have climbed up both by day and by night to the very top of the hill,
and have there cut down the choicest oaks and beech-trees, for no one
came to share in my labour. Truly I knew well enough that the Wild
Army, marching through the fields of air, were heard more frequently in
this place than any where else; and I was terrified when I found human
bones mixed with charcoal on the altar; yet I resolved not to think
of these matters, which were no concern of mine, and always came home
content and happy. Some weeks ago, however, it so happened, that I had
climbed up the steep mountain, and, amid the strange light reflected
from the snow, methought there were tall white figures of men and
women, that looked out upon me from the rocky cliffs. However, I soon
gained courage, and looked steadily on every object that came in my
way, till at length I was able even to laugh at my own apprehensions.
Now, when I arrived at the hill top, lo! there was stationed on the
hearth of the pagan altar, a tall figure, which I believed to be a
great wreath of snow. I only thought to myself what strange pranks has
the whirlwind played here with the snow-drift; and straightway began
with my hatchet to cut down a tall oak-tree, which I had marked some
time before to be felled. But hark! there came on my ears a strange
voice from the altar, calling aloud, ‘Köhler, Köhler, let alone that
oak-tree, for it stands within the sacred circle of Freia. The great
goddess has again come amid your woods; beware of Freia’s malison!’
So, when I looked round, the figure that I had taken for a snow-wreath
rose up solemnly from the altar, stretching out a threatening arm
towards me; and I saw that it was a ghostly woman in a long white
veil. Without well knowing what I did, I took off my cap, laid down
my hatchet, and bowed respectfully. Meanwhile it seemed to me as if
the sides of the altar moved like folding doors asunder; and from an
abyss beneath there came forth two knights heavily armed, with their
iron-coats rattling and gleaming in the snow-light, and with their
visors closed, as if prepared for combat. They were loaded with great
store of javelins and arrows, which they laid down before the altar at
the feet of the veiled lady; and thereafter they stood silently, like
two iron statues, leaning on their tall halberts. ‘Brave hunters,’ said
she at length, ‘are you then ready for the chase?’ The knights bowed
their high-crested heads, and rattled with their iron-gloved hands
among the javelins and arrows. ‘There is a weak mortal here present,’
said she, again stretching out her arm towards me, ‘and he shall now
be made witness how I, the great Freia, who am again returned into the
world, have power over all this forest, nay over all the ghosts and
demons that lurk therein. Thus, when he goes from hence, he will relate
what he has seen among his neighbours, and thereafter they will not
fail to pay due homage and worship at my altar.’ Hereupon one of the
knights stepped forward, seized me with a resistless grasp, so that
the icy coldness of his iron-glove vibrated through every limb, forced
me onwards towards the altar, and commanded that I should stand there
before the veiled woman, nor dare to move, whatever I might behold,
either on the earth beneath, or in the skies above. For a while I
obeyed his commands, and stood still; but terror at last overpowered
me, and I fell trembling on the ground, the knights and the lady still
remaining motionless.
“Then there came across the mountains, as if sounding out of the clouds
in heaven, the most horrible and soul-distracting noise of the Wild
Army in full march. Accustomed to hide myself when this uproar was in
the air, I now lay down with my face shrouded among the long grass, but
one of the knights seized me again with his gigantic hand. ‘Look up,’
cried he, ‘thou shalt and must behold what now passes in the air, and
for this time thou art free from all danger!’ My terror of the knight
who thus held me was greater than that of the ghosts in the sky, and I
did as he had ordered. Then, lo! I beheld, as if vast thunder-clouds,
fringed with red light, and fashioned into a thousand unutterable
shapes; but among the rest there were horses, huntsmen, deer, and dogs.
‘Hakelnberg, Hakelnberg!’ cried the knights and the veiled woman, in a
tone as if of scorn and mockery from the altar. I well knew that this
was the true name of the Wild Hunter, and thought that he would descend
in fury with his fiery horses for our destruction. Instead of this,
however, the attack began from our side;--with arrows and javelins,
which now, to my amazement, flamed like lightning through the air, the
knights vied with each other in shooting at the ghostly procession
above, so that the dogs howled, the horses reared and plunged, and the
riders uttered hideous lamentations. Many lost their seats, and fell
from the clouds as if wounded, while the grass around us was wet with
a rain of blood. Towards morning the knights allowed me to go, for
the wild hunters had all vanished away; and as I proceeded alone to
my cottage, the mangled limbs of men and horses, that terrified me
on my road, convinced me that what I had beheld had been no dream. On
my dress, too, I found many hateful stains of blood; so that I rather
chose to burn my clothes than to touch them again. Since that time,
however, the ghosts and hobgoblins, through all our mountains, have
been far more restless than ever. The new goddess, Freia, rides often,
even by day, with her two knights through the forest, and endeavours to
turn away the hearts of good people from the Christian faith, and force
them to do her homage; so that every one trembles even at hearing her
name. Sometimes, either she herself, or one of her companions, appears
suddenly in the room of a poor cottager, and when he perchance expects
only to meet some well known friend, is so terrified by their hideous
grimaces, that from that day onwards he is raving mad. If some change
for the better should not take place, one must believe, that in many
parts of our wild forest the true faith will give way to the terror
that is inspired by those mysterious visitants.” ‘Heaven forbid!’ cried
the three knights, as if with one voice; ‘far rather would we venture
our lives and fortunes in the contest, even to the last remnant, and
even resign that also without shrinking--’
While they spoke thus earnestly, they were interrupted by a loud
confused knocking, as if by many hands all at once, on the cottage
windows. At the same time, the old blind woman in the next room began
to scream aloud, and the charcoal-man went to sooth her; but in his
absence the knocking became more vehement, and without, amid the
desolate night air, there was heard a fearful muttering, and gibbering
of voices, like the sounds that come in dreams on a sick man’s ears
when he lies oppressed by fever. Sir Heerdegen, however, was by no
means disconcerted; he rose, went to the door, and called out in a
stern thundering voice, “Who’s there?” Then after a short space,
returned to the party within, and said, “I have seen no one; but you
have an abominable swarm of bats in this forest.” In truth, it seemed
to his friends, as if one of these night-birds had entangled itself in
the dark curling locks of Sir Heerdegen; for a living creature with a
hideous visage grinned on them from over his forehead. Sir Otto and
the sea-monarch immediately started up, in order to seize this vile
intruder; but on their approach, it flew away, breaking a pane of glass
in the window, and disappeared, with a hoarse scream, amid the darkness
of the night. Some thought it must have been an owl; but as for Sir
Heerdegen, he knew nothing of the strange guest that had sat on his
head, and looked round him cheerful and unconcerned; while Hildiridur
sighed deeply, and seemed lost in melancholy apprehensions.
The charcoal-man now came back into the room, and said,--“The ghosts
have again broken out vehemently in the forest,--of this you have
yourselves been witnesses; and even the poor old woman, in the dark
night of her blindness, is aware of the enemies by whom we are beset.”
Suddenly, however, he paused, and, staring at Sir Otto von Trautwangen,
called out,--“Heaven protect us!--there stands one of the knights
from the altar of Freia!”--The sea-monarch and Sir Heerdegen were so
confounded by what they had now heard and seen, that they were almost
afraid to look at their own friend and tried comrade, for fear that
he had vanished, and some ghost stepped into his place. Hildiridur,
however, looked steadfastly and well-pleased on her beloved son; and
the knight stepped up kindly towards the charcoal-man, saying,--“How
far the terrors by which you are here assailed may have confused your
senses I know not; but that I am a true and faithful Christian knight
can easily be proved. Mark you! if I make the sign of the cross, or
call on the name of our blessed Redeemer, will my tongue falter, or
are my looks changed as I here stand before you?”--“No truly, it is
not so,” answered the charcoal-man; “and now I wonder at my own
folly, in having for a moment mistaken a handsome young knight, such
as you are, for a frightful and malicious spectre; but when I thought
of the old woman’s words, and heard these vile noises at the windows,
my sight too became confused and wandering. Now I have awoke from
my dream, and would gladly hope that you and your brave companions
have been sent hither for our protection and deliverance from these
persecutions.”--“If it please God, you shall not have been deceived,”
said Sir Otto; “I put my trust in Heaven; I am well able to wield arms,
and feel the impulse of a new and high calling in my heart; therefore
I shall go forth, even now, while these evil spirits are all awake;
and meanwhile you, my faithful comrades, will take the Lady Hildiridur
under your protection.”--“You think then, that we would suffer you
to ride out alone on such a campaign?” said Sir Heerdegen and the
sea-monarch, both speaking at the same moment, and girding on their
swords, and clasping their visors.--“Who then shall remain with my
mother?” said Sir Otto.--“Nay,” said Heerdegen, “it were best of all
that you staid with her alone.”--“Swerker too,” added Sir Arinbiorn,
“and the other squires, when they make their appearance, will follow
and support us.”--“Comrades!” said Sir Otto, his eyes gleaming with
anger, “what you have now proposed avails me not; and this you might
have well known ere you spoke as you have now done. For this adventure
I myself have been chosen, and no one, as long as I live, shall fulfil
the duties of Sir Otto von Trautwangen. As to Swerker’s coming in such
a night as this proves, it is more than uncertain; and on that chance a
son will not depend for the protection of a beloved parent. One of you
twain must at all events remain with her.”--Hereupon the knights looked
at each other in silence, each of them wishing that his friend would
speak first, and declare his consent to remain with the lady, till
at length Hildiridur spoke:--“Go hence, young heroes,” said she, “all
three, and in God’s name. Truly I am no longer a prophetess nor Druda;
for the hand of my brave son has deprived me of these fatal gifts; yet
the powers over whom I so long mildly ruled, come to me yet, as near
as the boundaries that separate our world from theirs will allow, and,
by dim apprehensions in my own soul, I am aware that this adventure
will be stern and fearful,--perchance that you may not all return
hither; but, nevertheless, all three must be present at that encounter.
Therefore go, and may the blessing of Heaven be with you. Look not so
anxiously, as if you were yet afraid for my safety, dearest Otto; for,
mark you, I have even here found a protector, who never deserted those
who placed in him their hopes and trust.”--With these words she lifted
her arm towards a cross which was formed with charcoal on the wall
above the fireplace, rudely indeed, but powerfully drawn; and having
made the same holy sign in the air above their heads, she pointed
towards the door. The warriors had no power to resist her solemn
commands, but went straightway forth amid the gloom of that spectral
night.