Of the Wild Hunter Hakelnberg and his courtesy.
Now, after they had come down a steep declivity, all of a sudden they
found themselves on a level glade, where four well-beaten roads met
together. “There, my friends,” said Sir Archimbald, “you perceive that
we have now come again into an inhabited country. It is but a short
mile from this place to a good house of entertainment, and there we
shall remain for one whole day, that the wounded man may have rest;
for it will require yet another day’s journey ere we can reach my
fortress of Waldeck.” As they drew near, however, to the spot where
the four roads crossed, lo! their horses started and reared, and by
the uncertain moonshine, (for the white mists had settled densely on
the lowland forests,) they perceived a troop of men and horses, that
seemed always increased in number by single riders that came forward
out of the woods. Moreover, they heard the voices of many dogs, that
howled sometimes with impatience, and sometimes in terror. “These must
be huntsmen,” observed Sir Archimbald; “we must ask them the usual
questions however,--‘Whence and whither?’ There are methinks too many
of them collected here to admit of our riding through without some
precaution.” So he commanded that the biers should halt in the spot
whereon they now stood, and, assembling his squires about him, placed
himself with Sir Arinbiorn in the van, then sent out a horseman with a
courteous message of inquiry to the strangers.
Hereupon, behold, the squire rode and rode; but it seemed as if the
glade always spread out longer and longer before him. Through the
mist and the moonlight they always saw him trotting on; but he never
appeared to come up with the parties with whom he had been sent to
speak. Still they saw the same hunting-squadron before them, and still
heard the howling of their dogs; even, moreover, a confused murmuring
of voices.
All of a sudden a gigantic figure of a man, mounted on a horse
proportionably monstrous with himself, came up, and halted between
Sir Archimbald and the sea-monarch. “Your squire cannot ride,” said
he in a strange hollow voice, that yet sounded amid the night-wind
almost like a scornful laugh:--“he would let the morning dawn on us,
before he had moved ten paces. Therefore I have rather come to you,
in order that I may thank you heartily for having banished Gerda and
her mischievous spirits from this forest. Take then, as a token of my
gratitude, the game that I shall send you to-morrow--the first prize
that I shall have won since these domains have again become mine.
Hakelnberg from thenceforward is your steady friend. Hark, hark!
Hilloick, hilloick, forward, forward!” With these words, with which
the very vault of heaven seemed to ring and echo, he flew straightway
up into the air, and it seemed to the knights as if they beheld above
whole herds of game, of which he thus went in pursuit. The band that
halted on the plain all rose at the same moment, like a cloud of
dust after their chief; the dogs bayed and howled, and the huntsmen
screamed and shouted; ere long, however, their voices sounded from the
unmeasured fields of space so far remote, that the noise was no longer
like articulate voices, but resembled rather the growling of a distant
thunder-storm. Meanwhile all the deer and other game in the forest were
so terrified, that oftentimes they started from the thickets, and came
rushing past, close to Sir Archimbald and his friends, who were all so
much astonished at this adventure, that they scarcely dared to speak,
but went silently along the narrow road that led again through the
woods, with the same fearful noises still thundering over their heads.
The morning had begun to dawn; and just as the last notes of the wild
hunters had died away, the travellers entered the village of which the
count had spoken, and where they were to find rest and shelter for the
wounded knight.
In the auberge, all the inhabitants were already awake, and Sir
Archimbald inquired of their host, who was anxiously running to and fro
to provide for the comfort of his guests, whether he had been terrified
by the wild hunters, since he had thus risen so early. “Sir,” said
the innkeeper, setting on the table a morning draught for his guests,
“Hakelnberg’s career through the clouds has no doubt called us earlier
than usual from our beds; but as to terror, that is indeed a different
question. I cannot say that we were afraid; but, on the contrary, we
returned thanks to God, both with pious hymns and with prayer, that
the old Hakelnberg, who has been so long known both to us and to our
ancestors, has now come with his dogs and horses and echoing horns
once more into the Hartz forest. Sir Knight, you may have already felt
far better than I can describe, that whatever has grown up with us,
and been known from infancy, even though it may be somewhat that in
itself is unwelcome and frightful, yet by the force of custom becomes
so dear to the heart, that it is indispensable, becoming so intwined
with our very life, that when it is removed, it is like snapping one
of the ties by which we cling to this world. Besides, on what occasion
has the good old Hakelnberg ever done injury to any one over the wide
earth? All that can be said is, that foolish people now and then have
been terrified when he made his appearance among the clouds; but the
hateful enchantress, with her two warlike knights,--when they galloped
about on their gigantic fiery horses, what evils would they not have
inflicted? and what threats did they not hold out over our heads?
At such times our old friend Hakelnberg was forced to keep silence,
and to dwell lonely and melancholy in his castle of the clouds; but,
Heaven be praised, he has again begun to ride through the forest, and
the enchantress Freia, with all her squadrons of hobgoblins, is put to
flight.” “They are put to flight, doubtless,” answered Sir Archimbald;
“on that score I can pledge my honour and word as a Christian knight.”
Hereupon the innkeeper in his great joy grasped the hand which the
knight kindly proffered him, and cried aloud, “Long live Count
Waldeck,” and “Long live old Hakelnberg!”
At that moment there arose a noise in the street, which attracted the
notice both of the host and his guests. All ran to the window, and
behold there came a noble stag, who had rushed from the neighbouring
forest; he ran wildly as if he had been pursued by dogs and horsemen,
though no one could perceive by whom he should have been thus alarmed.
The shepherds and bauers indeed were now on the alert, and tried to
confine him within a circle, but he broke violently through them, and
making directly towards the inn, he attempted to leap over a hedge,
by which the garden was bounded, but in the attempt struck himself a
mortal wound against the lance of Sir Archimbald, which the knight had
placed there, and soon after died.
“Who knows,” said Sir Arinbiorn, “but this is the game that Hakelnberg
promised to send us?” The count also was of the same opinion, and,
according to the use and wont of huntsmen, they immediately divided
the noble prey with their knives, and at midday refreshed themselves,
together with the host and all his household, making merry over their
banquet, and many times drinking to the health of the good Hakelnberg.
Sir Otto also partook of their entertainment, and it seemed that he had
been thereby strengthened by magic art; by the time that evening had
again drawn near, one could perceive by his gait, voice, and demeanour,
that his wounds were now of little importance, and it was more needful
to think of repairing his broken corslet, than to be concerned any
longer for the knight’s welfare.
The last red gleams of the sun were now shining into their apartment,
when Sir Otto started up from a couch whereon he had just before thrown
himself, and coming with a grave solemn demeanour to his friends, he
said,--“There is left for us one sacred duty to be fulfilled, and,
methinks, so long as the body of our beloved friend is suffered to
remain visible on this unquiet earth, we dare not sleep;--methinks,
too, this village, with its lime-trees and clear fountains, looks
like a pleasant resting-place for our departed comrade. One question
remains to be answered,--whether, in this remote hamlet, we can find
consecrated ground?”--Hereupon their host offered to shew them the
way to a small chapel, around which many pious Christians had already
been interred, and where the earth had been duly blessed by the good
monks;--so they directly set out on their way, having covered the
bier of Sir Heerdegen with an embroidered mantle, and his arms laid
cross-ways thereon. As they began at length to ascend the hill, on
which stood the chapel, it was a pleasure to see the never-dying gleams
of the lamp over the altar, shining through the green shades of the
trees, amid the now settled gloom of evening; and Sir Otto, who could
not refrain from joining in their procession, now wept unobserved and
silently. At the chapel they found, as they had been informed, an
enclosed burial-ground; and one might have said too, that there was
here a higher and more solemn chapel than could have been built by
mortal hands; inasmuch as a lofty grove of elm and beech rose, as it
were into the sky, with their branches intwined together, and forming
that natural archway which our noblest cathedrals but imitate. Through
the roof of this lofty aisle, as the wind played among the leaves, they
caught at intervals the light of the stars, which had now begun to
shine forth in heaven. Under this light the three champions joined in
digging Sir Heerdegen of Lichtenried’s grave;--they wrapt his mantle
round him, laid him deep in the earth, and made his outward monument
of green turf. Thereafter they remained for a space kneeling in silent
prayer,--Sir Otto at the head of his lamented friend, and his comrades
one on each side. At length they rose, and, lost in silent melancholy
thoughts, went back to the village.
On the following morning they all rose early; and Sir Otto was so far
recovered, that he could mount a horse, which was now provided for
him, and pursue his journey even as if he had never been wounded.
In the evening, when it was already late, and the sky gloomy, Sir
Archimbald said that they were not far from his castle of Waldeck,
and that ere long they would all be seated at the banquet-table, in
his ancestral hall, with the Lady Hildiridur. Suddenly, as he had
just spoken these words, there started out from the rustling thickets
a strange and unlooked-for figure, that reared itself like a giant
before them:--they knew not what this could be; but the figure came
straight forward to meet them. As they debated thereon, Sir Otto all
at once recognised, by the dim light, that this was no other than his
dearly-beloved brown horse, which had advanced, rearing himself on his
hinder-legs, so that they had mistaken him for a giant; but, as soon
as he drew near to his master, and Sir Otto had saluted him with the
well known words,--“Ruhig du Bursch!”--the faithful steed immediately
gave over his wild pranks, and came up, neighing aloud for joy, till he
stood close to the knight, and there bent his proud head humbly to the
ground. Sir Otto immediately alighted from his borrowed horse, kissed
his old faithful comrade, and mounted without waiting for saddle or
bridle, while the light-brown, with his cheering voice, announced, even
as loud as a herald’s trumpet, their approach to castle Waldeck. When
Swerker, who stood on the watch-tower, heard the sounds, he rushed
down to the stables, threw himself on horseback, and came out at full
speed to meet them. Then there were indeed right cordial greetings
and congratulations, full of brotherly confidence and affection; but
when the first tumult of their joy was over, and they rode on quietly
together, Sir Otto inquired wherefore his favourite steed had been
suffered thus to wander at large through the forest? “Sir Knight,”
answered Swerker, “your horse could by no means be tamed or kept in
peace since you left us. He would not come under any roof, nor has
taken food from any rack or manger; but while the Lady Hildiridur was
yet in the charcoal-man’s hut, and thereafter since her coming to this
castle, he failed not to gallop round and round her habitation, as if
it had been his duty to guard her from every danger.” More earnestly
than ever Sir Otto now caressed his steed, clapping him on the neck as
he rode, while the sagacious creature turned back his head, and looked
as if to thank him for his kind approval.
At length they rode into the fortress, where Hildiridur stood weeping
in the portal. Sir Otto flew to embrace her, and in his great joy at
their meeting, for a space forgot the affliction that he had before
felt for the untimely fate of Sir Heerdegen.