Of King Richard Cœur de Lion, and Blondel the Minstrel.
It was with slow dignified steps, the stately old man moving like a
banner in the midst of their procession, that they had descended the
steep road that led from the castle; the last bright rays of the sun
were slanting on the broad waters of the Danube, and it was not long
ere the full moon appeared in all the glory of her cold dewy light in
the cloudless southern sky. The old minstrel, Walter, had been busily
engaged in arranging a gay banquet-table on the meadow, at which they
now took their places; while the outermost circle was traced by tall
torches fixed in the turf, whose light shone reflected from the golden
beakers and wine-flasks, as they passed merrily round. When they were
thus seated, joy gleamed anew in the eyes of the venerable knight, and
he exclaimed, “Thanks, good Walter, for thy care and contrivance! How
much more pleasant and cheering is our banquet, seated as we are on the
fragrant moss, with the blue sky over our heads, than it would have
been yonder at the marble table of mine ancient hall, where, alas! I
have spent so many sad and lonely hours!” Hereupon Hildiridur presented
to him his magnificent silver goblet, now brimming with the richest
Johannisberg; tears filled his eyes, and dropt into the wine as he
drained the cup, but they were tears of heartfelt delight and gratitude
to Heaven. Bertha, meanwhile, and Otto, also Gabrielle and Sir Folko,
thought of the time, when, on this very meadow, they had long ago
been enclosed, as they now were, by a circle of torches, by whose
light a stern conflict for life and death was to be revealed; and that
remembrance added new sweetness to their present enjoyment. Yet on
the mind of the Count Archimbald of Waldeck there arose a slight shade
of discontent, as the torch-glare again shone on his strange black and
silver mail, which had been then so dishonoured; but Gerda, when she
marked the clouds gathering on his brow, stroked his cheeks playfully
with her snow-white hand, and, as he looked on her beauty and sparkling
eyes, he soon forgot all his moody reflections.
At length some one tapped lightly on Sir Otto’s shoulder, and, looking
round, he saw that it was the sea-monarch, who thus whispered in his
ear: “Rememberest thou yet our words as we wound up to Hildiridur’s
castle? Blanchefleur has acknowledged thee for her brother, and mark
how the flickering light now gleams yonder on her beauty. When I thus
behold the damsel, I at least may not forget thy promise.” Sir Otto,
in friendly confidence, pressed the hand of Sir Arinbiorn, and rose in
order to gain a place next to his sister, who, lost in deep thought,
sat apart like some lonely and neglected flower of the meadow.
Arinbiorn dared not go with him, but, with his heart heaving with doubt
and fear, stood watching them from some distance.
Now Sir Otto had come near enough to his newly-won sister, to ask her,
in a low voice, whether she had yet become the betrothed bride of a
knight, who in rank and station was worthy of her regard? “I shall
take it on me to speak for her,” answered Sir Folko, who sat on the
other side. “The damsel is not thus betrothed, and will answer ‘No.’”
He spoke as if half in anger; and, in humble obedience, a tremulous
‘No’ came like an echo from the beautiful lips of Blanchefleur. At that
moment were heard some sad and mournful sounds; the chords of a harp
were struck not far from where they sat. Blanchefleur looked round as
if in terror; but, as if this had been a warning for her to speak,
repeated in a louder and more agitated tone, “Heaven knows I am not
the betrothed bride of any one in this world!” Therefore Sir Otto,
making a sign to the sea-monarch that he should come nearer, began to
intercede for him with his sister. Sir Folko too begged her consent,
in order that their two houses might thus be more than ever united;
while Arinbiorn stood in silence, at once dignified and humble, waiting
to hear his doom pronounced by her who was dearer to him than life.
Like a pale slender flower, shaken by the evening wind, Blanchefleur
continued for a space agitated, and uncertain how to decide. At length,
in wordless resignation, she inclined her beautiful head in token of
assent to their proposal. Sir Otto then, leading her by one hand and
the sea-monarch by the other, brought them to Sir Hugh to receive his
blessing; and, as they kneeled before him, the old hero said,--“Thou
young and blooming image of the fearful old Avenger with vulture’s
wings, take then, in God’s name, this tender white flower, that so
long was the joy and ornament of mine ancient halls. All thoughts of
revenge are now past and forgotten.”--“All such thoughts are indeed
forgotten,” repeated the sea-monarch, bowing his head to the ground,
while Blanchefleur wept in silence.
But, alas! scarcely had they raised themselves from the grass, when
there were heard again the same mournful notes by which Blanchefleur
had been alarmed; and in the midst of the bright circle now appeared
the minstrel Aleard, in a light-blue mantle, with his harp in his arms;
and thereafter he began to sing a wild and melancholy lay.--He sang at
first of the flowery pride of summer,--of the sun, moon, and stars,
with all that is most cheering and lightsome;--then he changed the
scene, and fancied himself sailing in a solitary bark, through the wild
sea, round the Island of Love. On that island the poor youth described
himself as a shipwrecked mariner dashed against its rocks, who is yet
willing and ardent, with his last breath, to sing in praise of the
joys which he may never partake. Even as he is just sinking under the
waters, he beholds a happy bride and bridegroom standing hand in hand,
and salutes them with gratulations and prayers for their long life and
happiness.
Listening to these words, Blanchefleur held her hands over her eyes,
and it was only Arinbiorn who remarked how fast her tears flowed
beneath that alabaster covering. Sir Otto directly recognised in Aleard
the same minstrel who had sung with Blanchefleur the Ballad of Abelard
and Heloise at Gabrielle’s castle in Normandy, and learning from
Bertha that he now belonged to the train that had come with her and
Christophorus, hastened to salute him, and to return thanks that he had
come to honour their festival with his music. But Aleard had already
vanished among the crowd; and, on searching and inquiring for him, Sir
Otto was suddenly disturbed by an occurrence so extraordinary, that the
attention of all the party was immediately roused.
Beyond the circle of torches was heard the trampling of horses, with a
ringing of armour, as if they, as well as their riders, were clothed in
iron for the battle-field. Anon, when the eyes of every one were turned
in the direction from whence this noise proceeded, there appeared,
on a snow-white charger, a tall graceful warrior, in a purple mantle
bordered with ermine fur, with an enormous golden shield, on which the
torch-light gleamed like lightning, on his left arm, and in his right
hand a long lance, which, when they first looked upon him, he poised
upright as it rested on his saddle-bow. As he drew near to the ladies,
however, with a light and graceful movement, he inclined the ponderous
weapon to the ground; and, at the same time, bowed his head, with his
high gleaming helmet and waving plumes, in respectful salutation.
Moreover, as he came within the circle of the torches, some of the
spectators insisted, that around his martial casque there was visible a
crown of gold and diamonds; for it could only be gems of the highest
price that shone so brightly.
Ere they had time to debate this question, however, the warrior had
turned his horse, and, followed by a numerous train, passed away from
the wondering spectators. They could hear how he spurred his horse into
a full gallop, and how the rocky cliffs of Trautwangen echoed to the
neighing of war-steeds, and ringing of their armour as they trampled
along the meadow, till at length the sounds died away in distance. “Was
it not he?” said Gabrielle, gazing at Sir Folko, as if she had read
his thoughts, and needed not to say more. “Truly,” answered the brave
De Montfaucon, “I believe there is not any champion over the world who
could be compared with him; therefore we cannot be mistaken. It was
indeed the Lion, the peerless monarch of the knightly forest.”--All
eyes were now watchfully turned on Sir Folko; but, hark! from the
same quarter wherein the magnificent stranger had appeared, there now
arose a strain of minstrelsy,--the notes of harp and song so sweet
and ravishing, that all the ladies and knights sat as if spell-bound,
and scarcely daring to breathe in their admiration of the melody. As,
with the thirst of a weary traveller, they drank eagerly the refreshing
sounds, which always floated nearer, through the still air of that
summer-night, till at last they could distinguish articulate words; and
these words have since echoed through the wide world; for the lay now
sung, was that wherein the minstrel Blondel de Nesl described, how he
had found out his royal master Richard the Lion, and rescued him from
his before hopeless captivity.
Moreover the minstrel himself soon appeared, mounted on a small white
horse, which seemed like a younger brother of the battle-charger
rode by the monarch. A green velvet mantle was thrown around the
graceful form of the handsome youth, on whose countenance there lay an
indescribable charm, almost as one might have said, of woman’s beauty,
had it not been, that, notwithstanding the high lace ruff, like that
of a lady, that rose round his blooming features, small elegantly
turned mustachios adorned his upper lip. He had now reined in his
well-managed palfrey, and, as he looked smiling on the banquet-party,
still continued to touch the harp, which was suspended from his neck by
a golden chain.
Sir Otto immediately recognised the far-famed Master Blondel, with whom
he had before spoken in the blooming forests of France; and the last
words of his song had made known to all the party what a mirror and
model of songsters and squires was now before them.
“Oh, Master Blondel, most renowned and worthiest of minstrels,” cried
they, “so then the great King Richard is indeed rescued! And was it he
himself, that magnificent knight, who, but a little while ago, passed
through these meadows?”
Blondel kindly answered them, that in their conjectures they had been
in the right; and, after the manner of free-hearted minstrels, he did
not refuse their earnest request, that he would take his place among
them, and join in their festival, and relate to them more particularly
how he had, with his harp and song, tried the echoes in every fortress
and castle at which he chanced to arrive, till at last he had by this
means discovered his friend,--the noblest of Christian heroes,--an
adventure of which I need say no more, since to you, courteous reader,
it must already be well known through numberless legendary tales and
ballads.
The knights, who now sat around the festal board, all joined together
to exalt the praise of that noblest of minstrels, who had, by his
gentle art alone, achieved what so many brave heroes, with sword in
hand, had in vain attempted to carry through. Meanwhile the ladies had
been busily employed in twining meadow-flowers into garlands, which
they threw in showers on the head of the highly-honoured troubadour.
Now it came to pass, that Sir Arinbiorn, the sea-monarch, came before
Otto von Trautwangen, leading by one hand Blanchefleur, and by the
other the minstrel Aleard, whom, with his sharp eagle-eyes, he had at
length discovered among the multitude of squires and others who were
now in attendance.--“Dearest brother,” said Sir Arinbiorn, “this youth,
whom I now bring before you, is no other than he who, as I before told
you, appeared to me in the Magic Mirror, where he sat at Blanchefleur’s
feet, when I, for the first time, beheld that bright-gleaming star of
my future life and hopes, and named her Roselinde.”
At these words Sir Otto changed colour, casting fiery glances towards
the minstrel,--and Sir Folko, who now came up, was yet more incensed.
Meanwhile Sir Arinbiorn continued,--“Wherefore all this anger, ye brave
and noble knights? Have you not proved even now, that the minstrel in
his airy flights, though we, forsooth, in our heavy armour, cannot
meet him in his own proper lists, yet can sometimes far exceed whatever
the best of us, with our iron cuirasses, swords, and lances, are able
to accomplish. Master Aleard is descended from a noble house,--the
Franks, the Spaniards, English, and Germans, praise and admire his
songs. Otto, why should’st thou doubt? or should we now crush the
minstrel’s harp with our iron-shod heels, even in the same hour when
Blondel’s victory has given us proof of its powerful influence and
worth?”
Hereupon deep blushes came over the features of Sir Otto and De
Montfaucon. The former took the minstrel, and the latter the Lady
Blanchefleur on his arm, and thus they drew near to the old Sir Hugh,
while Sir Arinbiorn walked before them, like a herald, to announce
their purpose. The grey-headed hero willingly agreed to what the
sea-monarch now suggested; it seemed as if, by a gleam of inspiration
from another world, he had been made aware how far more fitly the
tender white lily, that had in early years been cherished in his
castle-garden, would be supported by the rose-tree of song, than by
the bloody spear of warfare. Or was it, perchance, that the divinely
tranquil eyes of Hildiridur at that moment rested on him with their
moonlight radiance, and admonished him what he was to do?
However this might be, he willingly bestowed his blessing on the
lovers, who now knelt before him, and on whose cheeks, at their
first embrace thereafter, a deeper blush was enkindled, as if the
morning-light of joy now advanced towards the bright lustre of day.
“But for thee, Arinbiorn, what shall now be said?” inquired Sir Otto,
mournfully taking his old comrade by the hand. “Nay, fear not for
my fate,” answered the sea-monarch; “Heaven has dealt kindly and
graciously with me; for if Blanchefleur, according to her own will and
pleasure, had promised her hand to another knight, I could scarcely
have borne with the grief and anger that would then have reigned
in my heart. Now, however, I have but given away those rights which
I had lately won, and freely to bestow valued gifts is a delight to
every noble and princely heart. Well, then! the wild ocean, with its
verdant realm of rolling waters, is yet left to me; amid the roaring
waves methinks I yet hear the voice of hope, that promises me renown at
least, if I may not be allowed the enjoyments of love; and Roselinde
shall yet evermore be my battle-cry by land or sea; with that name on
my lips I shall conquer or die!”--“All then is well at last,” said
Bertha, with the smile of contentment and serenity on her features;
“if there were yet agitation or regret in any heart that here beats
among us, ere long the spotless virgin’s calm looks and words would
sooth those tumults till the minds of all were tranquil as the seas by
moonlight in the still summer eve.”
Hereupon the old champion gazed on Christophorus and Zelotes,
saying, “Yet two descendants of this ancient house are left without
bridal-wreaths and lonely in this world!” “Be it mine rather to weave
them for others,” answered Zelotes. “All those which are now worn among
us I have given away with joy and contentment of heart; proud also
of mine office as a priest, inasmuch as I have borne my part in my
father’s house, which now possesses, as is fitting, a monk within its
own walls, thus maintaining its wonted independence.”
“For my share,” answered Christophorus, “the hopes are yet fresh
and vigorous in my heart, that by new wreaths of victory on the
battle-field, the conquest too of new sciences and arts, I shall yet
spread the grandeur of our house more and more through the world.
Perchance no damsel that lives, however beautiful and attractive, is
able to satisfy the longings of my heart. Rather let the wide earth be
my bride, with all her wealth of blooming fields and rolling seas,
her stern icebergs of the north, and blooming vineyards of the south!”
Then Sir Hugh took the hands of both his sons, and pressed them with a
firm heroic grasp, as he would have done in his early years of youth
and knightly prowess, at the same time casting delighted looks across
the festive circle, where on the opposite side Sir Otto stood in his
happiness, with his left arm proudly thrown round the tall angelic form
of Bertha von Lichtenried.
Thereafter, behold, Master Blondel (who had by this time learned from
Aleard all the wonders that had come to pass in the house of Sir Hugh
von Trautwangen) came humbly to Bertha, and drawing from under his
mantle a golden crown of beautiful workmanship, adorned with rubies
and emeralds, he said, “How would my heart be rejoiced if, for this
once, Beauty would not refuse to wear the poetic crown when offered
by the hand of a wandering minstrel! Such favour has been granted
ere now,--may I hope that it will not be denied to me!” Thereupon
the damsel blushed deeply, and bent down her head, while the crown
was directly placed amid her luxuriant glossy ringlets, marking her,
even for the eyes of the distant lookers-on, as the queen of this
assemblage, who had inspired the young knights to their noblest deeds;
and by whose influence at last the magic spells had been broken, and
every heart restored to tranquillity and joy.
While they were all gazing on her, Blondel had already mounted his
white horse; and thereafter, as he rode slowly away through the
moonlight, he saluted them once more in song. His lays were for the
most part addressed to the virgin queen, who stood there in her serene
beauty and innocence; but ere long they could distinguish only the
concluding words of every stanza, ‘Farewell!’ At length, as he entered
the dew-besprent forest, and was shrouded from their sight by the
wreaths of white vapour that now hung on the landscape, that sound
also declined away, even as this eventful story, courteous listener,
now dies on your ears. Good night, and farewell!
END OF THE MAGIC RING.
* * * * *
OLIVER & BOYD, PRINTERS.
* * * * *
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE:
Punctuation errors and printing mistakes such as obviously missing
letters have been silently fixed. Spelling and hyphenation in common
use at the time of publication have been kept as is. Instances of the
same word differing in hyphenation have in most cases been changed to
match the majority variant, or using information from other sources.
Volume number added under “The Magic Ring”, before the first chapter.
In addition, the following changes have been made:
p.107 Allessandro to Alessandro
p.113 unruy to unruly
p.119 wobegone to woebegone
p.150 Hackelnberg to Hakelnberg
p.187 Herda to Gerda
p.203 an dsilently to and silently
p.211 Asmunder to Asmundur
p.232 inearnest to in earnest
p.314 longs taff to longstaff
New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the
public domain.