How the Lady Bertha von Lichtenried came to break the
Spells of Theobaldo, and afterwards took from him the
Magic Ring.
But ere that stern judgment could be fulfilled, there was a new voice
that called aloud,--“Halt, halt!” and the tones even of that simple
mandate were supernaturally sweet, as if the voice had descended from
the blessed heights of Paradise. Suddenly, therefore, the tumult ceased
as if by some new and more resistless incantation; for the sounds, at
once sweet and powerful, had penetrated deeply into every heart, so
that all stood motionless, not only amazed, but almost reconciled. It
seemed as if the rage and wrath which formerly prevailed were at once
cooled and overcome; and, though some among the countrymen nearest to
Theobaldo began again to lift their clubs and swords, their advance
was checked by armed warriors mounted on beautiful white horses, who,
with their foreign dresses, gleaming sabres, and light javelins, struck
all the beholders with astonishment. Theobaldo now was silent, and held
his hand over his eyes, as if he had been dazzled by the glare of the
noonday sun.
The form that now appeared entering the court might well have been
compared to sun; but the beams of light that this beautiful apparition
spread abroad were dazzling only to the guilty beholders. To all others
they were refreshing and delightful. It was a damsel mounted on a
snow-white palfrey, with a heavenly smile on her features, reflecting
the inward peace and serenity of her mind. Of her aspect, indeed, one
could not say whether dignity or child-like innocence prevailed most
therein. It was her voice which had commanded the combatants to halt,
and her beauty that had confounded Theobaldo. The horsemen now ranged
themselves around her; and, moreover, she was accompanied by a grave
stately man, attired in flowing purple robes, and with a large golden
cross on his breast. The thunder-storm rolled away in dying murmurs
towards the west; the rushing too of the rain and hail-showers was
heard no more.
Then it seemed as if Theobaldo sought once more to rouse himself for a
new attack. Grinning in wrath, he waved the Magic Ring high over his
head; but the damsel again called out in the same silvery tones, “Halt!
against such an adversary as thou, the holy father of the church has
afforded me this means of protection!” With these words, she took out
a golden phial from her bosom, and, advancing towards Theobaldo, threw
part of its contents, which shone like rain in the sunlight, towards
him; whereupon the once so potent enchanter fell trembling on his
knees. “That is not enough,” said the maiden; and with these words,
a strange severity came over her beautiful features. “Deliver up the
ring!” and perceiving that Theobaldo still lingered, and grinned in
his disappointment and terror, she held out the phial, and continued,
“Or shall I once more prove the strength of this, which, as thou well
knowest, is more powerful than all the spells of which the ring has
made thee the possessor? In such case, however, I cannot answer for the
consequences which thou drawest on thine own head.” Hereupon Theobaldo
came up to her trembling, and placed the Magic Ring in her beautiful
snow-white hand, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on the ground.
Then she desired of her companion in the purple robes, that he would
lift her from the saddle; and as soon as she had dismounted, she went
straightway towards the lime-tree, where Sir Hugh still sat; but, as
if inspired with new life by the presence of her who thus approached
him, he threw aside the dark garments of Zelotes, and once more
looked up cheerfully on the clear sunlight and cloudless heaven. For
a moment, indeed, when he fixed a serious gaze on Sir Arinbiorn’s
helmet, a shudder of apprehension passed through his frame, and he
exclaimed, “Good Heaven! there is also the Avenger with his vulture’s
wings. But he must have come hither for reconciliation; for I see
near him an angelic form, whose divine features are well known to
me.” “Ay, indeed,” said the damsel, “he comes but for reconciliation;
and all must this day be reconciled.” Her words sounded like a
strain of celestial music. She then led up to the old knight her
strangely-attired companion, (who looked half Arab half Christian,)
and added, “As truly as thou wert once known on the distant island of
Crete as the brave Sir Hygies, so truly is this Moorish champion your
son; and his mother was the rose-like maiden of Damascus, who dwelt for
a time in the cavern of Zeus the sorcerer. Erewhile he hath acquired
renown far and wide as the grand emir Nurreddin; but now he bears the
Christian, and far more honoured name, Christophorus.”
The father and son looked long at each other, their eyes gleaming in
silent emotion. During their long lives it could scarcely have been
said that they had ever beheld each other; now the father sat with his
snow-white locks under the shade of that old ancestral lime-tree, and
before him stood Christophorus, already advanced in years. Suddenly the
latter felt oppressed by deep awe and veneration, and, forgetting his
former resentment, he was about to kneel in the humility of his filial
love; but Sir Hugh took him in his arms, and cried aloud, “Welcome,
welcome, thou noble Damascene blade, worthy and valiant offspring from
the beauteous Rose of Damascus!” So they stood locked in each other’s
embrace, and weeping in their great joy; while Blanchefleur, smiling
sweetly, looked up, and said, “Kind Heaven, how I thank thee for having
bestowed on me such an affectionate and venerable father!” Hearing
these words, the old man laid his hand on her beautiful head, with its
luxuriant glossy curls, and blessed her; at the same time De Montfaucon
came up, announcing to his former guardian and instructor, how he had
constantly watched over his beautiful half-sister, and that it was not
through his neglect, but only through the changeful fortunes of the
battle-field, that she had been deprived of the Magic Ring, which ought
now to have been on her finger. “However,” added he, “it would not have
so readily come to pass, that I should have been forced to give up her
rights in the lists, had not thy own noble son stepped forward into
the ring; then the strength and skill of the scholar yielded to him,
who carried by inheritance the powers of an invincible father in his
frame.”--Thereupon Sir Otto stretched his hand over Sir Hugh’s hoary
head, in friendly salutation, to the Knight of Montfaucon; while the
faithful falcon, leaving Sir Otto, perched on his master’s helmet,
and clapped his wings for joy to find that Folko was thus restored to
life. “Mark you,” said Otto, “the falcon erewhile brought to me this
love-embassy, although I know full well that it was but in error.”
Saying these words, he held in his hand the rose-coloured parchment,
on which, when at Carthagena, Gabrielle had written to the Chevalier
de Montfaucon the confession of her love. A deep blush overspread
the countenance of Sir Folko, and Gabrielle drew her veil over her
beautiful features. “By the result of that former tournament,” said
Sir Otto, gently taking her hand, “I have some right over the treasure
which I now hold. May I then exert my power?” With these words he
joined together the hands of De Montfaucon and Gabrielle, who, in their
gratitude, had almost dropped on their knees before their friend; but,
as he instantly withdrew, and was lost amid the crowd, they fell into
each other’s arms. Sir Archimbald then drew near to the goldenhaired
Gerda, and cast at the same time an inquiring glance on Hildiridur,
which the Druda well understood, and answered, “She has already proved
herself a willing votary of the Christian faith, and I can bear
witness to her ardour and sincerity.” Then the count inclined his head
over the damsel’s hand, and pronounced the solemn words whereby he
became her betrothed husband, while Gerda’s cheeks glowed with the deep
blush of joy and affection.
Meanwhile the wondrous damsel, who was now in possession of the ring,
though her accents were as mild and gentle as ever, yet, the sense of
her expressions conveyed bitter reproaches to Zelotes, inasmuch as
he had sought to terrify the old hero, and to force him into severe
penance. “Had he not been instructed,” she inquired, “that the Saviour
of mankind attracted his disciples in the spirit of kindness and love;
and if, for the full conversion of sinners, fiery trials and suffering
must be employed, our heavenly Father himself provides means for this
purpose, and often by assistants unwonted and unlooked-for?” Zelotes
now stood humbly, with his eyes fixed on the ground, before the damsel,
and acknowledged her supremacy by his silent respect. Meanwhile the
unfortunate Sir Otto fixed his eyes with melancholy anxiety on the
lady. He knew not indeed if she were Bertha or a stranger; but, in
either case, felt that it could only be the most manifest tokens of
kindness and condescension on her part, that could give him any right
to express to her, even in the humblest manner, his admiration and love.
At length a kind glance from her beautiful blue eyes was suffered to
fall on him.--“Knight of Trautwangen,” said she, “wherefore art thou
so disguised in that black armour? Methinks thou would’st do better
to d’on again thy silver harness, which is now worn by the Count
Archimbald von Waldeck. I know indeed that you are both bound by a
vow; but your vow, my lord count, is already redeemed; for in the
Hartz forest it was your fortune, without the use of arms, to bring
both armour and living knights out of that cavern, which, but for
your aid, would have been their grave. As for thee, Sir Otto, thou
should’st no longer look with terror on the stain of Heerdegen’s blood
on the silver cuirass; for that is already effaced by the deep wound
which thou did’st receive in his defence, when thou would’st willingly
have resigned thy life to save him. Zelotes, whom I chanced to meet
on the road hither, has informed me of all. Alas! for the faithful
and brave Heerdegen!”--At these words tears shone under the fringe
of her long shady eyelashes. Suddenly, however, she went towards
Otto, bent down her head, and kissed the scars that were left by Sir
Kolbein’s battle-axe on his corslet, and said,--“Thus a devout maiden
releases both of you from your vows. Go, and exchange once more your
coats-of-mail.”--The two knights bowed in silent obedience, and,
accompanied by their squires, retired into the castle.
Meanwhile the mysterious damsel commanded that a large fire should be
kindled on the hearth of the great hall; and ere long the blaze was
seen through the open door and windows, gleaming under the shade of
the green luxuriant lime-trees.
By this time the two warriors had returned with their armour changed;
Sir Archimbald again in his dark cuirass, with his terrific eagle’s
visor, and Sir Otto, with the reflection on his youthful blooming
features of that silver mail with which he had been adorned when he
first parted from his beloved cousin Bertha.
The majestic damsel now came towards the great chimney in the ancestral
hall, sprinkling the hearth with consecrated water from her golden
phial, then, clasping her beautiful hands, turned for a moment to the
lookers-on, and said,--“In this solemn hour beware of evil thoughts!”
But who indeed could, at such a time, have required this admonition,
when they beheld that beautiful form like a visitant from heaven, while
the bright fire-light revealed the divine expression of resolution,
blended with saint-like humility, that reigned on every feature? She
prayed for some time in silence, then threw the Ring into the centre of
the fire,--made the sign of the cross over the flames,--and, while she
renewed her prayers, the bystanders beheld how the melted gold ran over
the hearth, and heard how the diamonds and emeralds burst asunder in
the vehement consuming blaze.
The solemn rite was finished, and, with light step, the beautiful lady
came forward from the hearth; while, at this moment, Sir Otto could
not help feeling in his heart the conviction, that this was indeed his
dear cousin, Bertha von Lichtenried. Yet round the beautiful smiling
girl it seemed as if the dignified sanctity that she had assumed had
spread a mysterious though dazzling veil, as if woven of the glorious
morning-clouds; for when she came towards Sir Hugh to offer, as in
former times, her kindly salutations, the old man involuntarily bent
before her, in respectful homage, that hoary head which ere now had
been so often crowned with the laurel-wreaths of victory.
At length,--“Oh, may I be forgiven!” said she, “dearest uncle, that
I have not approached you with my wonted respectful obeisance, but
have appeared here as a strange lady of high degree, instead of your
own humble niece, Bertha von Lichtenried. But, indeed, until this
moment I was not Bertha, but the ambassadress of our holy patriarch,
the Pope in Rome. To him there appeared, in a nightly vision, all the
strange phantoms and wondrous adventures which hung over your house on
account of the Magic Ring. So I have hastened hither straightway with
Christophorus; only, having heard on the way of my dear brother Sir
Heerdegen’s death, I turned out of the road, in order that I might, at
the shrine of a renowned saint, pray with more energy for the repose
of his soul. Not, however, till the Magic Ring was destroyed (such
were the commands of the holy father) durst I make myself known, either
by word or token, to those whom I most loved in the world, in order
that earthly affections might not disturb my thoughts from the divine
mission on which I had been sent. For this reason it was that I passed
so silently from the chapel near which you had encamped,--I speak now
to you, dearest Lady Hildiridur.” Thereupon, falling into the arms of
her former kind friend and instructress, the benevolent Druda, she hid
her blushing cheeks under the long green veil; for with these last
words she had involuntarily turned her eyes towards her old playmate
Sir Otto. At that moment Christophorus came up, and proffered his hand
to the young Knight of Trautwangen, saying,--“Welcome, brother! by that
name it rejoiceth my heart that I can address a noble youth, whose
valiant deeds are already known from the north pole to the south, over
all the wide world. But, as through those years when I bore the name
of the grand emir Nurreddin, it was said of me, that I knew better how
to dispense my largesses and gifts than any other prince of Asia or
Europe, so shalt thou too, my brave German brother, learn, even at our
first meeting, that I have not forgotten what belongs to the character
that I had thus won. Know then, that the heart of this beautiful damsel
beats for thee alone, and thou art free to woo her for thy bride.” With
these words he led Sir Otto towards Bertha, who remained still with
her face hidden in Hildiridur’s long veil; and, with one knee on the
ground, the knight addressed himself to the Druda, and said, “Dearest
mother, speak for me! I am indeed unworthy of her forgiveness.”
Hildiridur then placed the unresisting hand of Bertha in that of her
first lover; and Bertha, kneeling beside him, said, “If thy father,
dearest Otto, will bestow on us his blessing!”--Hearing these words,
the old hero laid his hands on their heads in token of consent; but he
could not speak; for, as he looked on them in their youth and gladness,
his heart swelled in his bosom, and words could not then have expressed
his emotion.