How the tumult in the Castle-Court waxed wilder and
wilder.
Many of the dastardly assailants already bled under Sir Otto’s powerful
blows; others were terrified by the thundering and unearthly accents
of Zelotes; and the whole mob would soon have been dispersed, had it
not been that Theobaldo’s enchantments confused their senses; so that
when they wished to retreat they found still greater terrors await
them in the rear than in the van. The thunder continued to roll louder
and louder over their heads; the blue flames rose more fiercely from
the ground, and almost assumed the shapes of spectres and demons:
around the castle there was heard the rushing of a vehement rain and
hail-storm; but not a drop fell in the castle-court; it seemed as if
the mild dew of heaven could not fall on that accursed scene of flames
and contention. Even amid all the uproar of thunder, noise, and rushing
and confused voices, was heard ever and anon the thrilling laughter of
Theobaldo as he continued his incantations.
Meanwhile, Hildiridur, with all her attendants, had arrived at the
castle. Anxious, amid that fearful storm, for the safety of its
inhabitants, she came hastily into the court, and, protected by Sir
Archimbald and the sea-monarch, went up to the lime-tree, under which
the old hero was still seated, and where Sir Otto still fought, though
his strength was now almost exhausted. Hildiridur addressed herself to
Sir Hugh in mild accents, entreating his forgiveness; and Gerda, now
humble and obedient to her instruction, stood near her, anxious, if
possible, to afford her assistance; while in the meanwhile Arinbiorn
and Sir Archimbald, having at once perceived what was going forward,
had drawn their swords, and summoned their squires around them, in
order that they might at once beat the mob to the ground, and free the
castle from insurrection.
Then, too, Sir Folko (with the two ladies and their train) suddenly
made his appearance. He chanced to enter the court by a gate which
brought him directly to the lime-tree, where, roused at once by his
duty as protector of the two damsels, and his desire to assist the
knights, he also rushed forward, sword in hand, and commanded his
squires to do the same.
Then Sir Hugh, still haunted and overpowered by the frightful
apparitions that crowded on his mind’s eye, shouted aloud,--“Wo, wo!
now I behold also the lady-mother of the brave Sir Folko de Montfaucon!
She comes to reproach me because I deserted her and our child
Blanchefleur, and, truly, she also has justice on her side; for I was
the renowned Sir Huguenin of Normandy, and, by the honour and word of
a knight, I did not earn that name without valiant deeds!”
As soon as Blanchefleur heard these words, she came and kneeled down
before him. Her mild voice fell on his ears through the black robes
by which Zelotes still held him concealed.--“Lo!” said she, “I am thy
daughter, thou venerable old hero, though even now, as heretofore,
thou art concealed from my sight.” Then, turning to Sir Folko, she
added,--“Brother, dearest brother, wield thy sword, and spare not. This
day thou shalt win another wreath of victory; and remember, that thou
art fighting for the rescue of my father, the renowned Sir Huguenin of
Normandy.”
Her mandates were obeyed,--the noble Chevalier de Montfaucon fought
with undaunted perseverance and resolution, while Sir Arinbiorn and
the Count Archimbald von Waldeck also did their utmost. But the dark
sulphureous clouds descended lower, and gathered always denser and
denser around them; the thunder roared--the rain and hail beat around
the castle, while Theobaldo’s voice was yet heard laughing aloud, and
renewing his incantations; so that their senses were quite overpowered
and confused. As to the squires, they no longer knew each other; but,
in their madness, cut and thrust at their own masters, whom they wished
to defend. Even the knights themselves were not free from these fearful
delusions; for now and then, when the sea-monarch thought that he had
dealt forth a powerful blow against some hated assailant, he found, all
of a sudden, that he had struck the golden helmet of his noble cousin,
De Montfaucon; or Sir Folko, perchance, with a rapid movement of his
shield, forced the sea-monarch and the count far asunder, at the moment
when they were standing firmly wedged together in order to resist the
advances of the wild multitude. Thereupon Sir Archimbald would, in
great wrath, turn round and attack both Folko and the sea-knight, and
when they fell back under his heavy blows, for the first time all
three would discover their error. Then they would shake hands, and,
closely ranked together, once more advance on their foes,--perhaps
with no better result than that of attacking their friend Otto von
Trautwangen. It was indeed Sir Otto alone, amid the whole assemblage,
whose senses appeared yet clear and triumphant over Theobaldo’s
sorcery; inasmuch as he always repeated to himself, in a low tone,
the short prayer which he had learned from Bertha in early youth.
This prayer had already helped him in the cavern of the Hartz forest,
and he now stood, sword in hand, like a guardian angel, before the
helpless old hero. Yet such was the tumult around him, that he never
could have maintained his station, had it not been that his light-brown
steed, which had broken loose from the squires who held him at the
castle-gates, came neighing aloud in furious career through the mob,
and placed himself by his master’s side. There, as if all the powers of
magic and necromancy could not overcome the noble animal’s fidelity
and affection, he reared himself on his hinder-legs, inflicting the
most horrid wounds on the heads of his assailants, seized them with
his teeth by the breast and shoulders, lifted them up, and hurled them
again to the ground, so that they lay motionless and insensible.
Amid the confusion of this extraordinary conflict, lo! the grey-haired
minstrel, Walter, arrived, and courageously made his way through the
combatants to his old friend and hospitable patron. Even amid the
frightful phantoms that perturbed his brain, Sir Hugh von Trautwangen
was aware of the minstrel’s presence, and said,--“There are strange
encounters passing without; and yet, methinks, I have heard voices of
women and children, that might have soothed and gladdened mine ears,
if but the long troops of ghosts would keep away, that I am doomed to
behold even in darkness. Yet let me hope ever for the best; for what
says thy favourite rhyme, good old Walter?”--Hereupon the minstrel
touched his harp-strings, and lifted up his voice,--
“Dark night precedes the morn,
So grief may joyaunce bring;
And death leads through the wint’ry grave
To life’s eternal spring.”
“I cannot rightly hear thy song,” cried Sir Hugh, “the noises are so
loud and stunning through the court; and then the monk’s black garments
are so closely folded around me. Sing louder, old minstrel, sing
louder!” Thereupon Walter repeated the same stanza on a key far deeper
and more sonorous; but Sir Hugh still exclaimed,--“Louder, old man,
far louder!” till at last the minstrel, in obedience to his best and
dearest friend, struck the harp with such violence, that not only did
the strings break, but even the instrument itself burst asunder with a
long melancholy intonation.
Thereupon Sir Hugh cried aloud,--“Wo, wo! even the minstrel’s harp
has broken, in terror at the load of guilt that weighs on my head;
now indeed all is lost!”--With these words he fell half fainting
and insensible to the ground, and Zelotes prayed fervently over
him. Yet all of a sudden it seemed as if the old hero’s fervour and
wonted energy had been restored; for he started up, and, in tones
that were at once deep like thunder, and shrill as a trumpet, he
exclaimed,--“Who dares to read prayers over me as if I were no longer a
knight? Am I then cast out and renounced by the Order to which I once
belonged?”--With these words he fell back, motionless, into the arms
of Zelotes.--“Alas! dearest lady,” said Gerda anxiously to Hildiridur,
“wherefore have we renounced the powers of enchantment? Now we might
have granted protection, and rescued this old man from the fate that
awaits him. Shall we not make one effort?”--“Away with all such vain
thoughts!” answered Hildiridur; “dost thou not feel, even in thine
inmost heart, the fearful influence of the magician who is now among
us? Is it not far greater than we could have exerted even in the days
of our greatest power? From us there is no hope of rescue.”
Sir Otto meanwhile had heard his father’s outcry as he fell into the
arms of Zelotes; and at that fearful sound he felt his strength wholly
overcome. His comrades had fallen into greater disorder than ever;
Theobaldo screamed in triumphant laughter; the mob gained ground;
the horrid spells of the enchanter were victorious; and no one could
doubt that the castle-court would ere long be changed into a place of
judgment and execution.