Of the monk Zelotes, and the enchantress Gerda.
The rich corn-fields were now waving in the balmy air, the
orchard-trees were in their full luxuriance of blossoms, or their
fruits already formed, the flocks were sporting in the meadows, the
deer sprang merrily through the forest-thickets, when our travellers
began their journey from castle Waldeck towards Trautwangen, on the
banks of the Danube. In every heart prevailed the pleasantest and
liveliest anticipations of what he would find there; but, on the
way, they conversed of nothing more frequently than of the state of
chivalry, and the different orders of knighthood through Europe, of
King Richard Cœur de Lion’s captivity, and how this bright star of
courtesy and honour had now vanished quite away from the horizon. “Ere
long,” the sea-monarch was wont to say, “Heaven will doubtless permit
that we should know where he is concealed. So, in our ice-covered
mountains of the north, the sun often vanishes away for many months,
but fails not to come again, and then our days are brighter and longer
than any where else in the world.” “If by the bold strokes of sword
and lance we could break the bands of this mystery!” said Sir Otto,
“I would, that in such a cause my whole armour might be so hacked and
hewed as my corslet looks even now.” For truly, as he had not obtained
the aid of a wise armourer, like Asmundur, but, on the contrary, had
employed a common blacksmith, the marks of Kolbein’s battle-axe were
still evident, and disfigured the fine coat-of-mail that had once been
worn by Sir Archimbald. During such discourse, Hildiridur was wont to
say,--“Whosoever God has chosen to break through this mystery will in
due time be summoned to the work; and shame to the coward who would
then lag behind! But he, on the contrary, who would rashly think to
resist the torrent of events in these tumultuous times, would foolishly
effect his own destruction, without even drawing near to the object
which he had in view.”
So, however, each cherishing his own pleasant hopes, and all of good
courage, soothed too by the wise counsels and mild tones of Hildiridur,
they came once more amid the blooming scenery and warm sunlight of
the south. Here it came to pass one day, that Sir Archimbald, cheered
by the bright weather and smiling landscape, happened to notice a
Benedictine monk sitting gloomily on the roadside, with his head sunk
in his wide black garments. “Why lookest thou so mournfully, holy
father?” said he in a gay tone; “perchance thy sandals are worn out
on thy pilgrimage, and the ways are rough? Mount then, and try for
once if thou can’st ride among armed knights. To-night we shall bring
thee to a right pleasant auberge.” “On horseback or on foot,” murmured
the Benedictine,--“on foot or on horseback,”--repeated he, “with iron
shoes or naked feet, we shall all arrive one time or another at our
place of rest! Knowest thou what is written over the gate? The sign of
our auberge is twofold; on one sign is written ‘endless joy,’ on the
other ‘endless grief.’” The knight who was before so jocund, shuddered
when he heard these words; his companions all halted involuntarily,
and gazed on the dark figure of the monk. He rose at length from the
stone on which he sat, with his features still covered, came towards
them, and said, “Methinks I should know you. The road which I follow,
you also know to be the best and safest; at least you have often
enough spoken to this purpose. Wherefore then do you wander about so
madly through the mazes and temptations of this world? Away with your
iron greaves and golden spurs; and replace them but with the ragged
sandals of the poor monks. Or, if you will not, then I understand not
to what purpose you travel. What I undertake must be done wholly or
not at all.” Thereupon he turned round, and went into a neighbouring
dark wood; above whose shades they saw rising the towers of a lonely
monastery. A chill shuddering stole over the hearts of all the
travellers, more especially, because, although the monk’s voice sounded
hollow and obscure under his large dark cowl, yet they could not help
believing that the accents were those of some one who had ere now been
well known to them.
Early on the following morning, when they came forth from an inn not
far from the forest in which they had parted with the monk, lo! there
was a squire nobly attired, and of wondrous grace in his figure and
demeanour, whom no one among them had seen before, and yet he came
to assist zealously in their preparations for departure. They did
not ask him any questions, believing that he might be a follower in
the train of some other travellers, and that he gave his aid to them
through knightly courtesy; they therefore only returned him thanks;
but, as Hildiridur and the knights rode away through the dew-besprent
field, amid the twilight and mist-wreaths of the morning, on looking
back, they still saw the strange squire busily engaged with the
sumpter-horses, arranging whatever they had not been able to put into
order for their early departure.
As he thus walked about amid the white fogs of the dull morning-air,
it seemed to them as if the silent stranger had somewhat ghostly
and solemn in his appearance, as if he were not like other men; and
so deeply were they impressed by these thoughts, that they remained
silent, and did not even interchange words with each other. Some
of them indeed went so far as to believe that he was a spirit from
the Hartz forest, who had followed them only in scorn and mockery,
but would ere long, to their dismay and consternation, regain his
true shape;--others thought that he was one of the good people,--a
benevolent fairy, who not only would assist them thus at the
commencement, but thereafter attend them like a guardian spirit on
their way. Such notions were at last spread in whispers, till they
reached the ears of Count Archimbald and his companions. Hereupon the
count commanded that every one should halt, and that the mysterious
youth should immediately appear before him. He came accordingly, and
stood within a circle that Hildiridur, the knights, and their assembled
attendants, soon formed around him.
Just then the first gleams of the rising sun fell on the squire’s head,
with its rich golden tresses, and in the same moment they discovered
their error. It was indeed no squire who had thus waited upon them; but
the beautiful features of Gerda, lovelier than ever, now that she was
thus humbled, shone out upon them.--“Look not on me thus amazed,” said
she; “only one of those who are here present has any right to blame
what I have done; but for all his bravery in the battle-field, he is
yet kind and forgiving as a child. Instead of being angry with Gerda,
he will compassionate her distress.--Sir Otto, is it not so?”--The
young Knight of Trautwangen bowed courteously, and said,--“Truly I
am grieved for your misfortunes. May God forgive you the death of my
brave friend, Heerdegen;--as for all that you have done in the north,
or in my native land, against me, the remembrance of your deeds shall
be dispersed like dust to the four winds of heaven, and never more
reckoned when we thus meet together.”--“Now then, Sir Archimbald,”
said the damsel, turning towards the count, “thou can’st not complain
against me; for if thou art determined never to be King of the Hartz
mountains, I shall not compel thee thereunto. I pray you then to let me
go with you, for, in truth, I have no evil intentions.”--“Verily, thou
art beautiful,” said Sir Archimbald, “and as well might I say that I
loved not the sunlight, the blossoms, or the nightingale’s sweet songs,
as that your presence is to my heart unwelcome or indifferent. But the
cross,--mark you,--the cross!--One condition was left unfulfilled, and
while it thus remains, thou can’st not go with us.”--“Archimbald,”
answered the damsel, “for the love I bear to thee, I would have tried
also to fulfil what thou now desirest; but it might not be;--and before
thou pronouncest the angry words which now hover on thy lips, hear, I
pray thee, the explanation which I can give of that which has drawn thy
wrath on Gerda.
“In the dark wood that lies yonder beneath us, there is a great
building, with strong thick walls, narrow windows, and a high tower,
in which there is hung a mournfully-sounding bell. People call this a
minster; and they have assured me, that within these walls is to be
learned the true faith, to which thou would’st have me bow in worship.
Therefore, dearest Archimbald, I have not been afraid to enter through
the long gloomy aisles and echoing vaults of that building. I went
thither all alone, in hopes that I might find the path leading to thy
God and the heaven of the Christians;--but the people that dwell there
understood me not; they questioned and threatened me at the gates. At
length they assembled together, and came towards me, all attired in
black garments, with pale, ghastly visages; and, moreover, they bore
in their hands vessels for sprinkling water, and many strange symbols
and banners; but, as I well knew that by such means mortals may be
bewitched and transformed, I fled from them in terror, and, having
again arrived outside of the gate, I began to weep bitterly, for I
knew not any means now by which I might fulfil the conditions which
thou had’st imposed on me. At last one of the men in black garments
had compassion, and called to me from the walls, that I should inquire
for Brother Zelotes; for this brother had not long since been a
pagan,--had forced himself, almost by violence, into their abode,
and, through the heroic strength of his resolution, in a short time
overpowered all obstacles, so that he had become a monk, and was now
sent forth on a journey, of which no one but he himself and the prior
knew the purpose. Brother Zelotes perchance could assist me, or, if
this might not be, I could have no hope. Immediately I arose, and like
one struck by a poisoned arrow, who runs wildly in search of a skilful
physician, I inquired eagerly of every one that I met, whether he could
afford me tidings of this man?--With much trouble I discovered the road
that he had gone,--met him at last;--but, alas! you have now to hear
the sad end of all my endeavours.
“It was in a narrow pass of the mountains, just as the full moon
had raised her dark-red shield over the rocky cliffs, where I met a
tall stern figure of a man, that seemed to me a gigantic warrior,
disguised in black monkish robes.--‘Art thou Zelotes?’ said I.--In a
hollow voice he answered, ‘Ay.’--‘Help me then to find the God of the
Christians.’--‘Right willingly,’ he answered.--‘Follow me!’--‘Whither,
then?’ said I doubtfully.--‘Such a question,’ said Zelotes, ‘becomes
not one who longs after the true faith. It is enough that we know the
object of our pilgrimage,--how we arrive thither,--by what paths, or
through what earthly scenes, should be to us indifferent.’--Terror
then seized on me;--I shuddered more than I had ever done when, within
the magic ring of the enchanter, I had beheld the spectral forms from
the grave, and nightly demons rise up around me. Besides, it seemed as
if the monk’s voice was already known to me. At length he said,--‘Ay,
truly, I am well aware who thou art, and in former years I have been a
renowned warrior; but even the horror of thy detested sorceries, and
thy vehement desire that I should murder one of the three sleeping and
defenceless knights, unveiled to my sight the eternal punishments that
are due to such crimes, and drove me to seek refuge in the Christian
sanctuary. When I left thy enchanted caverns in the Hartz forest, I
pretended that I went forth on a warlike campaign, but my journey led
straightway to a renowned monastery; and there, in a few months, I have
succeeded in obtaining the divine gifts of the Christian faith, even
with the same courage and resolution which enabled me to win crowns
of victory on the battle-field.’--With these words he threw back his
cowl, and though his features were now pale, and deep-worn by penance
and severe thought, I could no longer doubt that I now beheld in the
monk Zelotes the well known Norman warrior Ottur, kinsman or brother
of Otto von Trautwangen. Then I was obliged to narrate to him all that
had happened to myself and the three knights since his departure from
the Hartz mountains. He listened to me with melancholy earnestness and
attention, and shook his head, which he had again wrapt up in his
dark cowl.--‘Only follow me,’ said he at length; ‘thou knowest, that
when I lived as one of the careless worldlings, thou wert very dear
to my heart, and therefore thou should’st believe that I would also
gladly shew to thee the path that leads to heaven, if it were but in
my power.’--‘But whither wouldst thou lead me?’ I inquired once more,
shuddering as I spoke with inward doubt and apprehension.
“Thereupon Zelotes began a description, at which mine inmost heart
recoiled, and my hair almost stood on end. He said that he would
bring me into a convent of nuns, where I should undergo severe and
neverending penance;--how my flowing golden locks would be cut
away;--and how I should never more be allowed to see thee, Archimbald,
the dearest object of my affections. Hearing this, I started as if I
had just then retreated from the brink of the grave, that yawned to
receive its living victim;--he stretched out his arm as if to seize
me;--in his long black robes he now looked more than ever like a
supernatural spectre; and, as a deer pursued by the hunters, I fled up
among the rocky cliffs to escape from him. If, therefore, thou wilt
bear with me in thy presence, Archimbald, it must be without cross or
rosary; for to become a Christian is to me nothing less than if I were
doomed to death.”
Hildiridur was about to speak in her wonted mild tones, in order to
sooth the bewildered and agitated Gerda, but Archimbald, with a look
half-angry, half in terror, cried aloud,--“Begone from hence, thou
seductive and treacherous spirit, begone!--or if thou wilt remain among
us, let it be on condition that thou shalt kneel directly, and pray to
the God of the Christians before the cross.”--Hereupon Gerda’s wrath
flamed forth in all its former vehemence;--she uttered reproaches and
threats against Sir Archimbald and all his companions;--and at last,
as if borne in the air by her own luxuriant tresses, which were now
dishevelled and waving in the wind, she flew away into the neighbouring
wood, where she vanished amid a thick covert of pine-trees.
Thereafter they pursued their way, every one reflecting after his own
manner on this adventure; but of all the party, the most melancholy and
thoughtful was the Count Archimbald von Waldeck.