How Sir Otto thought that he had once more seen Bertha
von Lichtenried.
One day, it happened that they were resting beneath the shade of some
lofty elm-trees, at the base of a hill, on whose summit there was
situated a richly-endowed and magnificent chapel, which stood retired
on that solitary place, though it was the resort of devout pilgrims
from many villages. Only the quiet small mansion of a priest stood
hard by, in order that some one should always be present to open the
gates for pious believers, and to protect the building from neglect and
injury.
It was a pleasure to behold how the noble travellers sat under the
green elm-trees,--their horses and sumpter-mules feeding on the meadow
around them,--and their glittering shields and weapons hanging from
the branches. It was now the sultry hour of noon, and the golden cups,
filled with the cooling and refreshing wine of Rudisheimer and the
Mosel, were handed merrily round, while the squires began for pastime
to sing aloud many a pleasant old ballad, so that the notes echoed
far and near through the green wood. But Sir Otto, who was wont to be
so gay and cheerful of mood, remained at this time silent and lost
in deep thought. The severe life of his brother, Ottur of Norway, as
a Benedictine monk, perplexed him strangely; and he knew not whether
he should mourn, because such a brave youth was lost to the world, or
rejoice beyond all measure at his conversion to the Christian faith.
All the while that he thus meditated, lo! the church on the hilltop,
with its lofty vaulted roof and tall pillars, was before him, and
attracted him as if by some mysterious power; so that he could not
turn away his eyes from the building. Perceiving this, Hildiridur said
to him,--“Go thither in God’s name, and without more hesitation.
Methinks there is now a deep impulse in thy heart, and thou should’st
gladly wend thy way to yonder holy place, and pray to the Giver of
all good. Go then, and we shall wait here in this pleasant grove till
thou return’st to us.”--Sir Otto bowed thankfully and in silence, and
straightway went up the mountain.
The four gates of the chapel were open; and, as he entered and walked
through the solemn aisles, joy and deep veneration ruled in his heart;
all that had before perplexed him, and weighed so heavily on his
spirit, now seemed vanished away. For a long time he walked to and
fro amid the solemn statues and pictures, illuminated by the bright
summer-light that fell in varied gleams through the painted windows,
and all the while he persisted in earnest child-like prayer. Through
his whole life he had never been more happy than in these moments,
though this might be to himself mysterious, since he knew not any
outward event that had occurred to him over which he should thus
rejoice. On whatsoever he reflected, whether it were on the conversion
of Ottur, and his transformation into the monk Zelotes,--on the party
he had left, and their near approach to his home on the beloved banks
of the Danube,--it seemed as if a roseate light of joy prevailed in
every feeling.
At length it happened, that, among the pictures and monuments of the
church, his eyes rested on a wonderful shrine, such as he had never
before seen, made of golden bars and glass-work, as if some precious
relic were deposited therein. On coming nearer, he beheld through
the glass a female form, of divine and indescribable beauty. The
expression of her features indeed might be compared to the influence
of a day in early spring-tide. Joyful anticipations and confidence in
heaven, blended with child-like humility and deep earnest reflection.
She looked steadfastly on a large book that was open before her,
and on which her snow-white hands were folded. Her long fringed
eyelids, therefore, were half-closed, like the clouds that rest on
the summer-sky, without wholly veiling its deep-blue lustre. Bands
of pearls were interwoven in her light-brown hair,--a high lace ruff
was round her bosom,--her black velvet robe was adorned with gold
embroidery, diamonds, and emeralds. Gazing anxiously on this beautiful
apparition, and coming right opposite to the shrine, he perceived, for
the first time, that there stood behind her a tall figure of a man,
in a magnificent foreign dress, with sternly lowering brows and fiery
eyes, who was stationed there as her guardian and protector.--“He
represents, no doubt, the blessed St Joseph,” said Otto to himself;
and, without thinking more of the frowning man, or his strange attire,
he fixed all his attention again on the female figure--when, all at
once, the impression vibrated like lightning through his heart, that
the features he now saw were those of his dearly-beloved cousin,
Bertha von Lichtenried, though truly her countenance was hallowed and
glorified by a celestial light, such as till now he had never beheld
but in dreams. Hereupon he closed his dazzled eyes, and remained for a
space half unconscious of what passed around him. Again looking up, he
found the shrine void and deserted; neither the beautiful saint nor her
protector were to be seen; so that, mournful and discontented, he left
the now desolate church in a mood of mind the most opposite that could
be imagined to that under whose influence he had trod the same aisles
but a short space before. He could not help believing that Bertha had
died even at this hour, and had revealed herself to him for a moment in
that angelic attitude and form but to shadow forth her last farewell.
When he came back to his friends in the elm-grove beneath, he found
them all eagerly expecting his arrival, and lost in conjectures what
could have detained him so long. Hildiridur too looked anxiously
towards a carriage-road, from which, on the other side of the hill,
there arose a pleasant sound of music, that always drew nearer and
nearer. Soon afterwards there appeared a numerous band of horsemen
in strange eastern attire, with red turbans, adorned with plumes of
heron’s feathers, on their heads, and playing, as they rode, on all
sorts of instruments,--flutes, schallmeys, trumpets, and oboes. Some
beat time with golden cymbals; others with kettledrums of silver, hung
with red embroidered drapery;--their music was timed like that of a
march, and yet the sounds were soft and joyous rather than threatening
and martial. Besides the musicians, there appeared many warriors, who,
in their golden shirts of mail, that gleamed in the sun, with their
light javelins made of cane-tree, and their broad crooked sabres, were
almost like people of another world. But the eyes of the lookers-on
could not long wander through this multitude; for, lo! there appeared,
on a magnificent black charger, a knight rather advanced in years, of
such heroic dignity of aspect and demeanour, that, both in this respect
and by the splendour of his eastern attire, he cast all the other
warriors into shade. From them too he was distinguished by a large
golden cross, ornamented with diamonds and other precious gems, which
hung on his breast. By his side, on a snow-white palfrey, contrasting
strangely with the knight’s black charger, rode a beautiful damsel
attired in black velvet embroidered with pearls, on whom the three
knights gazed with astonishment and delight; but we need only say, that
Sir Otto now recognised in this damsel the saint that he had beheld in
the church; and, in the warrior who rode with her, the same stern and
frowning protector whom he had there looked upon as St Joseph.
The lady cast a significant glance on the silver armour of Sir
Archimbald; then her eyes turned suddenly with a gaze of wonder on Sir
Otto, in his dark mail with the eagle’s visor; and as she caught his
features, a fleeting blush, beautiful as the first red of the morning,
stole over her countenance. Suddenly she turned to her companion,
with whom she spoke earnestly for a few moments; then the whole party
proceeded on their route, and were soon lost to view in the deep
recesses of a wooded valley.
“We must follow them!” cried Sir Otto, as if just then awakening
from a prophetic dream; whereupon Sir Archimbald and the sea-monarch
shewed themselves willing, as usual, to join in every wish of their
beloved comrade. Besides, the strangers by whom their curiosity had
been thus attracted, seemed to have chosen the same road which they
had themselves intended to pursue towards the fortress of Trautwangen.
In order to be certain whether this were really so, Sir Archimbald
mounted on a great fragment of rock, which lay as if it had fallen
from the clouds, near the grove of elm-trees. Meanwhile Sir Otto,
the sea-monarch, and Swerker, began in great haste to urge forward
the saddling and bridling of their horses, and loading of the
sumpter-mules. In vain did Hildiridur warn them, that a beginning made
in such overhaste seldom leads to a good end; for they were all too
impatient to listen to her mild and gentle admonitions.