The Approach of the Huns.
"The old man is right," said Dame Hadwig, when Ekkehard reported to
her, the result of his mission. "When the enemy threatens,--prepare,
and when he attacks us,--beat him; that is so simple that one really
need not ask anyone's advice. I believe that the habit of long thinking
and wavering in critical moments, has been sown by the enemy, like
weeds in the German lands. He who doubts, is near falling; and he who
misses the right moment for action, often digs his own grave. We will
get ready."
The exciting and dangerous position, put the Duchess into high spirits;
just as trout delight in the turbulent waters, rushing over rocks and
stones; while they sicken in a still lake. An example of courage and
energy given by one in power, is never lost on inferiors. So they were
all busy, making preparations for the reception of the enemy. From the
tower on the Hohentwiel, visible at a great distance, the war-flag
floated forth upon the air; and through the woods and fields, unto the
remotest farm-steads, hidden in lonely mountain-glens, the war-trumpet
was heard; calling together all those capable of bearing arms; poverty
alone freeing anyone from the military service. Every man possessing
more than two acres of land, was obliged to place himself under arms,
and to present himself at the first call. The Hohentwiel was to be
head-quarters; nature herself having made it a fortress. Swift
messengers were riding on horseback through the Hegau; and people began
stirring everywhere in the land. Behind the dark fir-woods, the
charcoal-burners had formed a corps. "This will do," said one of them,
swinging a heavy poker over his head, as if about to strike down an
enemy. "I will also fight with the rest of them."
At the doors of the priests, and at those of the old and sick, the
messengers also knocked. Those who could not fight, were to pray for
the others.--This decree resounded through the land; reaching also the
monastery in St. Gall.
Ekkehard, likewise went to the peaceful little island of Reichenau, as
the Duchess had desired. This mission would have been highly
distasteful to him, if the reason for it had been a different one. He
was to bring an invitation to the brotherhood, to come to the
Hohentwiel, in case of danger.
There, he found everything already in a state of excitement. The
brothers were promenading beside the fountain, in the mild spring air;
but not one of them was seriously thinking of enjoying the fine weather
and blue sky. They were talking of the evil times, and holding counsel,
what was to be done. The idea of leaving their quiet cells, did not
appear to please them at all.
"St. Mark," one of them had said, "will protect his disciples, and by
striking the enemy with blindness, cause them to ride past; or he will
raise the waves of the Bodensee, to devour them, as the Red Sea
swallowed up the Egyptians."
But old Simon Bardo replied: "This calculation is not quite safe; and
when a place is not fortified by towers and walls, a retreat might
after all, be the better plan. Wherever a shilling's worth is still to
be got, no Hun will ride by, and if you put a gold piece on the grave
of a dead man, his hand will grow out of the earth to seize it."
"Holy Pirminius!" said the gardener, in doleful accents, "who then is
to mind the fruits and vegetables in the garden, if we must go?"
"And the chickens," said another, whose chief delight was in the
poultry-yard,--"have we then, bought the three dozen turkeys merely for
the enemy?"
"If one were to write an impressive letter to them," proposed a
third,--"they surely cannot be such barbarians, as to harm God and His
saints."
Simon Bardo, with a pitying smile, then said: "Thou hadst better
become a shepherd, and drink a decoction of camomile,--thou who wouldst
write impressive letters to the Huns! Oh, that I had brought my old
firework-maker Kedrenus with me, over the Alps! Then we should cast a
light on the enemy, far brighter than the mild moonshine in the
flower-garden, which called up such tender recollections in the soul
of Abbot Walafrid. We should then sink ships; and command the whole
shore with our long fire-tubes. Hurrah! How they would be scattered
to the winds, when our missiles would be flying through the air like
fiery dragons, pouring down a rain of burning naphta. But what does
any of you, know about such fire! Oh Kedrenus, thou paragon of
firework-makers!"
Ekkehard had entered the monastery, and asked for the Abbot. A serving
brother showed him up to his apartments; but he was neither there, nor
was he to be seen anywhere else.
"He will most likely be in the armoury," said a monk passing by. So the
serving brother led Ekkehard to the armoury, which was situated high up
in the tower. There, quantities of arms and harness were heaped up;
with which the monastery provided its warriors for the arrier-ban.
Abbot Wazmann stood there, hidden by a cloud of dust. He had had the
armour taken down from the walls, to examine it. Dust and cobwebs bore
witness to its having rested for a long while. During the examination,
the Abbot had not forgotten to provide for himself. His upper garment
lay on the ground before him; and in its place, he had donned a coat of
mail, with the help of a fair-haired cloister-pupil. He was now
stretching out his arms, to see whether it fitted him tightly and
comfortably.
"Come nearer!" cried he, on seeing Ekkehard. "The reception is fitted
to the times!"
Ekkehard then communicated the Duchess's invitation, to him.
"I should have asked for this, myself," replied he, "if you had not
come." He had seized a long sword, and made a cut in the air with it;
so that Ekkehard started back a pace or two. From the swift, whizzing
sound which it produced, one could guess that the hand which held it,
was not unaccustomed to its use.
"Yes, 'tis getting serious," said he. "Down in Altdorf in the
Shussenthal, the Huns have already effected their entrance; and we
shall soon see the flames of Lindau, reflected in the water. Do you
wish to choose a suitable armour for yourself also? This one, with the
shoulder-strap, will defeat every blow or thrust as well, as the finest
linen shirt, ever spun by a virgin in holy nights."
Ekkehard courteously declined the offer, and then went down,
accompanied by the Abbot; who seemed to enjoy his coat of mail
thoroughly. Throwing his brown habit over it, like a true champion of
the Lord, he made his appearance amongst the anxious brotherhood still
assembled in the garden.
"St. Mark appeared to me this night, pointing to the Hohentwiel," cried
the Abbot. "Thither, thou shalt bring my remains, to save them from
desecration by the hands of the heathen," he said. "Be up and get
ready! With prayers and fasting your souls have fought to the present
moment with the Evil One; but now your fists are to prove that you are
warriors indeed; for those who come, are the sons of the Devil. Witches
and demons begot them in the Asiatic deserts. All their doings are vile
wickedness, and when their time comes, they will all go back to hell!"
During this appeal, even the most careless of the brothers became
convinced that danger was near. A murmur of approbation ran through the
ranks; for the cultivation of science had not yet made them so
effeminate, but that they looked on a warlike expedition, as a very
desirable pastime.
With his back leaning against an apple-tree, stood Rudimann the
cellarer; an ominous frown on his forehead. Ekkehard went up to him,
wishing to embrace him, as a sign that a general calamity was wiping
out the old quarrel; but Rudimann, waving him off, said: "I know what
you mean." Then drawing a coarse thread out of the seam of his garment,
he threw it to the ground, and placed his foot on it.
"As long as a Hunnic horse is treading German ground, all enmity shall
be torn out of my heart, as this thread is out of my garment; but if we
both outlive the coming battles, we will take it up again, as it were
meet." After these words he turned round, and descended into the
cellar, there to attend to important business. In due order, the large
tuns lay there in the arched vaults; and not one of them gave back a
hollow sound, when struck. Rudimann had ordered some masons, and now
had a small antichamber, which generally served for the keeping of
fruit and vegetable, arranged, as if it were the cloister-cellar. Two
small casks, and one larger one, were put there. "If the enemy finds
nothing, he becomes suspicious," said the cellarer to himself, "and if
the Sipplinger choice wine, which I sacrifice, only does its duty, many
a Hun will find some difficulty in continuing his journey."
The masons had already got ready the square stones, to wall up the
inner cellar-door,--when Rudimann once more stepped in. Walking up to
an old rotten-looking tun, he tapped it; and filling a small jug,
emptied this with a most melancholy expression; and then, folding his
hands as in prayer, he said: "May God protect thee, noble red wine of
Meersburg!"--A solitary tear stood glistening in his eye ...
In all parts of the monastery, busy hands were preparing for the coming
danger. In the armoury, the harness and arms were being divided.
Unfortunately there were many heads, and but few helmets. Then, the
leather-work was in a somewhat dilapidated condition, and stood in
great need of repair.
In the treasury, the Abbot was superintending the packing up of
precious articles, and holy relics. Many heavy boxes were thus filled.
The golden cross with the holy blood; the white marble vase, which had
once held the wine at the marriage of Cana; coffins with the remains of
martyrs; the Abbot's staff, and the golden pixes,--all were carefully
packed up, and brought over to the ships. Some, were also carrying off
the heavy green emerald, weighing fully twenty-eight pounds.
"The emerald, you may leave behind," said the Abbot.
"The parting gift of the great Emperor Charles?--The rarest jewel of
the cathedral? Another such the bowels of the earth do not contain?"
asked the serving brother.
"I know a glass-maker in Venetia, who can easily make another, if the
Huns should carry this one away," carelessly replied the Abbot. So they
put the jewel back into the cupboard.
Before evening had set in, everything was ready for the departure. Then
the Abbot commanded the brothers to assemble in the courtyard. All
appeared, with the exception of one.
"Where is Heribald?" asked he.
Heribald was a pious monk, whose ways had many a time cheered up a
desponding brother. In his infancy, his nurse had let him fall on the
stone floor, and from that time, he had had a weakness of the brain; a
certain softness,--but he possessed an excellent heart, and took as
much delight in God's beautiful world, as any stronger-minded being.
So they went to look for Heribald, and found him up in his cell. The
yellow and grey cloister-cat, seemed to have offended him in some way;
for he had fastened the cord which generally served him as a girdle,
round its body; and hung it up on a nail in the ceiling. The poor old
animal hung thus suspended in the air; screeching and mewing pitifully;
whilst Heribald rocked it gently to and fro, talking Latin to it.
"Come on Heribald!" called out his companions. "We must leave the
island."
"Let him fly, who will," replied the idiot. "Heribald won't go away."
"Be good, Heribald, and follow us; the Abbot commands you."
Then Heribald pulled off his shoe, and held it out to the brothers.
"The shoe was already torn last year," said he. "Then Heribald went to
the camerarius and said: 'give me my yearly portion of leather, that I
may make myself a new pair of shoes.' But the camerarius replied:
'if thou didst not tread thy shoes all awry, then they would not
tear,'--and so he refused the leather. Upon this, Heribald complained
of the camerarius to the Abbot, but he said: 'a fool, as thou art, can
well go barefoot.' Now Heribald has no decent shoes to put on; and he
will not go amongst strangers with his torn ones."
Such sound reasons could not well be argued away; so the brothers
seized him, intending to carry him off by force; but no sooner had they
reached the passage, than Heribald broke away from them, and rushed as
quick as lightning to the church and from thence up the stairs, that
led to the belfry. When he had reached the very top, he drew up the
small wooden ladder after him; so that there was no possibility of
getting at him.
They reported to the Abbot, how matters stood. "Well, then we must
leave him behind," said he. "Children and fools, are protected by a
guardian-angel of their own."
Two large barges lay waiting at the shore, to receive the fugitives.
They were strong, well-built ships; furnished with oars and masts. In
some smaller boats, the serving people, and all others who lived on the
Reichenau, sailed, with all their chattels and belongings. The whole
looked a strange medley.
One bark, filled by the maid-servants, and commanded by Kerhildis the
upper maid, had already steered off; without its crew knowing what
place they were bound for; but fear, this time was stronger than their
curiosity to see the moustaches of strange warriors.
And now the brotherhood was approaching the shore; presenting a strange
sight. The greater part were armed; some chaunting the litany, others
carrying the coffin of St. Mark; the Abbot with Ekkehard walking at the
head of the cloister-pupils. They all cast back a sorrowful look
towards the home where they had spent so many years; and then they went
on board.
No sooner had they fairly started, than all the bells began to ring
merrily. The weak-minded Heribald, was ringing a farewell-greeting to
them. Afterwards, he appeared on the top of the cathedral-tower, and
called down with a powerful voice "_dominus vobiscum_," and here and
there, one of the monks responded in the accustomed way: "_et cum
spiritu tuo_."
A keen breeze was curling the waves of the lake, which had only lately
thawed. Numerous, large iceblocks were still floating about, so that
the ships often had great difficulty in proceeding.
The monks who were taking care of St. Mark's coffin, anxiously cowered
down, when the waves sometimes entered their boat; but bold and erect
Abbot Wazmann's tall figure towered above the rest; his habit
fluttering in the wind.
"The Lord is at our head," said he, "as He was in the fiery pillar
before the people of Israel. He is with us on our flight, and He will
be with us, in the hour of our happy return."
In a clear, moonshiny night the monks of the Reichenau ascended the
Hohentwiel, where they found everything prepared for their reception.
In the small castle-church, they deposited the coffin of their saint;
six of the brothers being ordered to stay beside it; watching and
praying.
The courtyard, on the next morning, was transformed into a bustling
bivouac. Some hundred armed vassals, were already assembled, and from
the Reichenau, ninety more combatants were added to their numbers. They
were all eagerly preparing, for the coming contest. Already before
sunrise, the hammering of the blacksmiths, awakened the sleepers.
Arrows and lances were being made. Near the fountain in the yard, stood
the big grinding-stone, on which the rusty blades were sharpened. The
old basketmaker of Weiterdingen, had also been fetched up; and was
sitting with his boys under the great linden-tree; covering the long
boards destined for shields, with a strong platting of willow branches.
Over this, a tanned skin was fastened, and the shield was complete.
Round a merry fire, others were seated, melting lead, to make sharp
pointed missiles for the slings. Bludgeons and heavy clubs of ash were
also hardened in the flames. "If one of these knocks at the skull of a
heathen," said Rudimann swinging a heavy club over his head, "it is
sure to be admitted."
All who had served before in the arrier-ban, were put under the command
of Simon Bardo, the Greek fieldmarshal. "A man who wants to pass his
old days peaceably, must come to Germany," he had jestingly said to the
Duchess; but in reality the clatter of arms, strengthened his mind,
like old Rhinewine. With an untiring zeal, he drilled the unexperienced
men, in the use of arms; and every day for many an hour, the stone
flags of the courtyard resounded with the heavy, regular tramp of
the monks, who in closed ranks, were being taught the art of a
spear-attack. "With you, one could verily knock down walls, when once
your blood is up," said the old soldier with an approving nod.
Those of the younger men, who possessed a good eye and flexible sinews,
were enlisted among the archers. These also, practised industriously,
shooting at a target. Once, a loud cry of delight was heard in the
courtyard, where the jolly fellows had manufactured a straw figure,
wearing a crown of owl's feathers, and holding a six-corded whip in its
hand. A small piece of red cloth in the shape of a heart, fastened in
front, was the mark.
"Attila the King of the Huns!" cried the archers, "who can hit him
right in the heart?"
"Boasting is easy enough," said Dame Hadwig, who was looking down from
her balcony; "but though on an evil bridal night, Death felled him, his
spirit is still living in the world; and I fear, that even those coming
after us, will yet have trouble enough, to banish his dread memory."
"If they could only shoot away at him, as well as they do now down
there," said Praxedis, when a triumphant shout was heard. The
straw-figure tottered and fell; an arrow having hit the heart.
Ekkehard came up to the hall. He had exercised with the others, and his
face glowed with the unwonted exertion; whilst the helmet had left a
red stripe on his forehead. In the excitement of the moment, he had
forgotten to leave his lance, outside the door.
With evident pleasure Dame Hadwig stood looking at him. He was no
longer the timid teacher of Latin. Bowing his head before the Duchess,
he said: "Our brothers in the Lord, from the Reichenau, bid me tell you
that a great thirst is besetting their ranks."
Dame Hadwig laughed merrily. "Let them put a tun of cool beer in the
courtyard. Until the Huns are all driven out of the country, our
cellarer is not to complain about the emptying of his tuns." Then
pointing at the bustling life in the courtyard, she added: "Life after
all, brings us richer and more manifold pictures than all poets can
paint. You were hardly prepared for such a change of things, eh?"
But Ekkehard would allow nothing approaching a slight, to come near his
beloved Virgilius.
"Allow me," said he, leaning on his spear, "all that we now see, you
will find word for word in the AEneid; as if there was to be nothing new
under the sun. Would you not fancy that Virgil stood here on this
balcony, looking down on yonder busy crowd;--when he sang, at the
beginning of the war in Latium:
"Yonder the shields for the head, are with willowy branches
surrounded;
Others the armour of ore, are to shining polish restoring,
There, the protecting greaves, of glittering silver are forged.
Sickle and plough for the time, are dishonoured and wholly
forgotten,
All are busily mending the rusty swords of their fathers;
bugles are heard in the land, and the watch-word to all is now
given."
"Yes, that really fits the situation wonderfully well," said Dame
Hadwig, "but can you also predict, the issue of the coming battles,
from your epic,"--she was going to ask; but in times of such busy
confusion, 'tis somewhat difficult to speak about poetry. At that
moment the steward came in, to report that all the meat was eaten up;
and to ask whether he might kill two more oxen.
After a few days, Simon Bardo's men were so well drilled, that he could
let them pass muster before the Duchess;--and it was time, for they had
already been disturbed in their rest, last night. A bright red light
was illuminating the sky, far over the lake. Like a fiery cloud, the
dread sign hung there for several hours; the conflagration being
probably far off in Helvetia. The monks began to dispute about it. Some
said that it was a heavenly apparition; a fiery star, sent as a warning
unto all Christendom. Others said that there must be a great
conflagration in the Rhine-valley; and one brother, gifted with a
particularly fine nose, even pretended to perceive the smell of
burning. It was long past midnight, when the red light died out.
On the southern declivity of the mountain, there was a moderate sized
grove, where the first spring-flowers were blooming already, while the
snow was still lying in the nooks and crevices of the valleys. This was
to be the place for the mustering. Dame Hadwig was seated on her noble
palfrey, surrounded by a small troop of well-armed knights, who had
also joined the party on the Hohentwiel; the Barons of Randegg, of
Hoewen and the gaunt Friedinger. The Abbot from Reichenau, was likewise
proudly sitting, on his ambling-nag; a well-mounted champion of the
Lord. Master Spazzo the chamberlain, was taking great pains to equal
him, with regard to carriage and movements, which were both highly
aristocratic and knightly. Ekkehard who was likewise to have
accompanied the Duchess on horseback, had declined the honour; that he
might not raise envy in the hearts of the other monks.
And now the outer castle-gate slowly opened on its heavy hinges, and
out strode the archers; who with the cross-bow-men, headed the march.
Amidst the merry sounds of music, they walked on in closed ranks;
Audifax, with a very serious expression, being amongst the
horn-blowers, in the capacity of bagpiper. Suddenly, Simon Bardo
ordered a signal to be given; at the sound of which the ranks swiftly
deployed; skirmishing about, like a swarm of wild bees. They had soon
occupied every bush and hedge in the neighbourhood.
Then there came the troop of monks, firmly treading the ground, with
helmets and armour under their habits; the shields hanging on their
backs. With couched lances, they were a redoubtable force. Their flag
floated merrily, high in the air; a red cross in a white field. They
marched on as regularly, as if they had been soldiers these many years;
for with strong-minded men, mental discipline, is an excellent
preparation for the warrior's life. Only one in the left wing, was not
able to keep pace with the others; his lance protruding beyond the
straight line preserved by his companions. "It is not his fault," said
Abbot Wazmann to the Duchess. "He copied a whole mass-book, in the
space of six weeks, so that he has got the writing-cramp in his hand."
Ekkehard was marching in the right wing, and when his troop passed the
Duchess, he caught a look from the radiant eyes, which could scarcely
have been intended for the whole corps.
Divided into three bodies, then came the vassals and bondsmen. Their
musical instruments were huge bulls' horns; emitting strange, uncouth
sounds, and many a singular looking weapon was seen that day, which had
already been used under the great Emperor Charles. Some of them were
merely armed with a heavy bludgeon.
Master Spazzo with his sharp eyes meanwhile looked down into the
valley. "'Tis well that we are all together, and well prepared; for I
verily believe that we shall soon get some work to do," said he,
pointing downwards in the direction, where the roofs of Hilzingen were
peeping out from the wooded dells. A dark line was seen approaching.
Then Simon Bardo ordered his troops to stop, and after casting a
searching look in that direction, said: "these are not Huns, for they
are not on horseback." Still, taking all needful precaution, he
commanded his archers to occupy the foot of the hill.
As the ranks of the strangers approached, the garb of St. Benedict
became visible. A golden cross, in lieu of a standard, was towering
above the lances, and the "_Kyrie eleison_," was now heard quite
plainly. "My brothers!" exclaimed Ekkehard. Then the ranks of the
Reichenau monks broke up, and running down the hill with shouts of
delight, they soon met, and were joyfully embracing each other. To meet
again in the hour of danger, makes the heart doubly glad. Arm in arm
with those of the Reichenau, the stranger guests now ascended the hill,
headed by their Abbot, Cralo. On a heavy cart in the rear-guard, they
were transporting the blind Thieto.
"May God bless you, most noble cousin," said the Abbot bowing his head
before the Duchess. "Who would have thought half a year ago, that we
should return your call, with the whole of the brotherhood? But the God
of Israel says, 'let my people leave their home, so that they may
remain faithful unto me.'"
Dame Hadwig held out her hand to him, with visible emotion. "Yes, these
are times of trial," said she. "Be welcome!"
Thus fortified by the new-comers, the troop betook themselves back
again, behind the protecting walls of the Hohentwiel. Praxedis had
descended into the courtyard. There she stood under the linden-tree,
gazing at the men as they came in. Those of St. Gall had all arrived,
yet her eyes were still riveted on the door, as if there were still
someone missing. He, however, whom her eyes sought, was not amongst the
last entering guests either.
In the castle, they were busying themselves to make room for the
new-comers. For the number of men, now assembled, the space was but
scanty. In the round, principal tower, there was an airy hall, in which
they heaped up straw, for a temporary nights quarter. "If things go on
in this way," grumbled the steward, whose head was nearly turned with
all the demands that were being made on him,--"we shall soon have the
whole priesthood of Europe, up here."
Kitchen and cellar gave all they could. In the hall downstairs, monks
and warriors were sitting, noisily taking their meal. Dame Hadwig had
invited the two Abbots as well as those of noble birth amongst her
guests, into her own reception room. There was a great deal to be
discussed, and the questions and answers, quickly given and often
crossing each other, made a strange confusion of voices.
As soon as an opportunity offered, Abbot Cralo told them about the fate
of his monastery.
"This time," he began, "the danger came upon us almost unawares.
Scarcely had one spoken of the Huns, when the ground was already
resounding, with the tramp of their horses hoofs. 'Sharp,' was the word
now. The pupils of the cloister-school, I hastily sent over to the
fortress of Wasserburg. Aristotle and Cicero will probably get somewhat
dusty; the boys catching fish in the Bodensee, instead of studying the
classics,--if they do not get more serious work to do. The old teachers
fled with them over the water, in good time. We others had made
ourselves a sort of stronghold, as a refuge. Where the Sitter-brook
rushes through the narrow, fir-grown valley, we found an excellent
hiding-place, which we thought no heathenish bloodhound would ever
sniff out. There, we built ourselves a strong house, with towers and
walls; and we consecrated it to the holy Trinity,--who I trust will
protect it.
"We had scarcely finished it, when the messengers from the lake came,
crying: 'fly, the Huns are coming!' Then there came others from the
Rhine valley, and 'fly!' was again the word. The sky was already dyed
red, from conflagrations and camp-fires; the air was filled with the
shrieks of people flying and the creaking of retreating cartwheels. So
we also set out. Gold and jewels; St. Gallus' and St. Othmar's coffins,
in fact all our treasures were first safely hidden; the books being
carried off before to the Wasserburg, by the boys. So we left the
monastery; not thinking much about eating and drinking; some scanty
provisions, only having been brought to our retreat in the wood,
beforehand. Thither we now went in great haste. Only on the road, the
brothers perceived that we had left the blind Thieto behind in his
cell; but nobody ventured to return for him, as the ground was so to
say, already burning under our feet. Thus we remained for several days
quietly hidden in our firwood; often jumping up at night, to seize our
arms, fancying the enemy were outside; but it was but the rushing of
the Sitter, or the rustling of the wind in the tree-tops. One evening
however, a clear voice, demanded admittance; and on opening the door,
in came Burkhard, the cloister-pupil; haggard and tired to death. Out
of friendship for Romeias the cloister-watchman, he had remained
behind, without our noticing it. He was the bearer of evil tidings. The
terror of that which he had seen, had turned some of the hairs on his
young head, quite grey."--Abbot Cralo's voice here began to tremble. He
stopped a moment to take a draught of wine. "The Lord be merciful to
all christian departed ones," said he with emotion. "His blessing be
with them, and may He let them rest in peace."
"Amen," said the others.
"Of whom are you thinking?" asked the Duchess. Praxedis had left her
place and gone behind her mistress's chair, where she stood
breathlessly watching Abbot Cralo's lips.
"It is only when a man is dead and gone," continued the Abbot, taking
up again the thread of his tale, "that the remaining ones appreciate
his value. Romeias, the best of all watchmen, did not leave the
monastery with us. 'I will keep my post to the last,' said he. He then
barred and locked all the gates; hid all that was valuable, and went
his round on the walls; accompanied by Burkhard the cloister-pupil. The
remaining time he kept watch on the tower; his arms by his side. Soon
after we had left, a large body of Huns on horseback, carefully prying
about, approached the walls. Romeias gave the ordinary bugle sounds,
and then quickly running to the other end of the courtyard, blew the
horn again there; as if the monastery were still occupied, and well
prepared. 'Now the time has come, for us to depart also,' said he to
the pupil. He had fastened an old withered nosegay to his helmet,
Burkhard told us; and thus the two went over to the blind Thieto, who,
being loth to leave his accustomed corner, was placed on two spears,
and thus carried away. Letting themselves out by a secret little gate,
they fled up the Schwarzathal.
"Already the Huns had sprung from their horses, and had begun to
climb the walls, and when they saw that nothing stirred, they swarmed
in like flies on a drop of honey. Romeias meanwhile, quietly walked on
with his hoary burden. 'Nobody shall say of the cloister-watchman,'
said he, 'that he quickened his step, to please a pack of heathenish
blood-hounds.' Thus he tried to encourage his young friend; but only
too soon, the Huns were on their track. Wild cries came up the valley,
and soon after, the first arrows whizzed through the air. So they
reached the rock of the recluses; but here, even Romeias was
surprised;--for as if nothing uncommon had happened, Wiborad's hollow
psalm-singing was heard as usual. In a heavenly vision, her speedy
suffering and death had been revealed to her, and even the pious
Waldramm, could not persuade her to fly. 'My cell is the battle-field
on which I have fought against the old enemy of mankind, and like a
true champion of the Lord, I will defend it to the last breath,' said
she; and so she remained quite alone in that desolate spot, when all
others left it. As the cloister's refuge in the firwood was too far to
be reached, Romeias picked out a remote little hut, and in it carefully
deposited the blind Thieto; letting him in by the roof. Before leaving
him, he kissed the old man, and then told the cloister-pupil to fly,
and save himself.
"'You see something may happen to me,' he said, 'and so you must tell
those in the refuge, to look after the blind one.' Burkhard in vain
besought him to fly likewise; quoting Nisus and Euryalus, who had
also fled into the woods, before the greater numbers of the Volskian
horse-men. 'I should have to run too fast,' replied Romeias, 'and that
would make me too warm, and give me pains in the chest. Besides I
should like to speak a word or two with the children of the Devil.'
"He then went up to Wiborad's cell, and knocking at the shutter, called
out: 'Give me thy hand old dragon; we will make peace now,' upon which
Wiborad stretched out her withered right hand. Finally, Romeias blocked
up the narrow passage of the Schwarzathal with some huge stones, and
then taking his shield from his back, and holding his spears ready, he
seized his big bugle-horn, to blow once more on it. With flying hair he
thus stood behind his wall, expecting the enemy. At first the sounds
were fierce and warlike, but by degree they became softer and sweeter,
until an arrow, flying right into the opening, produced a sharp
dissonance. The next moment, a whole shower of arrows covered him and
stuck fast in his shield; but he shook them off like rain-drops. Here
and there, one of the Huns, climbed up the rocks to get at him, but
Romeias's spears, fetched them down quickly. The attack became fiercer
and louder, but undaunted, Wiborad was still chaunting her psalm:
"'Destroy them in Thy anger, oh Lord. Destroy them that they do no more
exist, so that the world knows that God is reigning in Israel, and over
the whole earth, Sela.' ...
"So far Burkhard had witnessed the fighting; then he had turned and
fled. On hearing his account in the refuge, we were all very much
grieved, and sent out a troop that very night, to look after the blind
Thieto. Perfect quiet reigned on the hill of the recluses, when they
reached it. The moon was shining on the bodies of the slain Huns, and
amongst them, the brothers found also ..."
Here the recital was interrupted by loud sobs. Praxedis was with
difficulty supporting herself, on the back of the Duchess's chair, and
was weeping bitterly.
"... There they found the dismembered body of Romeias," continued the
Abbot. "His head was hewn off and carried away by the enemy. He lay on
his shield; the faded flowers which had adorned his helmet, tightly
clutched in his hand. May God reward him: for he, whose life was lost
in doing his duty, is surely worthy to enter heaven. Wiborad's shutter
was knocked at in vain, and the tiles of her roof were mostly broken.
So one of the brothers climbed up, and on looking down, beheld the
recluse lying in her blood, before the little altar of her cell. Three
wounds were visible on her head; which proved that the Lord had deemed
her worthy to die a martyr's death, by the hands of the heathen."
Everyone was too much moved to speak. Dame Hadwig also, was deeply
touched.
"I have brought you the veil of the martyr," said Sir Cralo,
"consecrated by the blood of her wounds. You might hang it up, in the
castle-church. Only Thieto, the blind one, had remained unharmed.
Undiscovered by the enemy, he was found soundly sleeping in the little
hut by the rock. 'I have been dreaming that an eternal peace had come
over the world,' said he to the brothers, when they awoke him. But even
in our remote little valley, we were not to have peace much longer; as
the Huns found their way to us also. That was a swarming, piping and
snorting, such as had never been heard before in the quiet firwood. Our
walls were strong, and our courage likewise; but hungry people soon get
tired of being besieged. The day before yesterday our provisions were
eaten up; and when the evening came, we saw a pillar of smoke rise from
our monastery. So we broke through the enemy, in the middle of the
night; the Lord being with us and our swords helping likewise. And so
we have come to you,"--with a bow towards the Duchess, "homeless and
orphaned, like birds whose nest has been struck by lightning; and
bringing nothing with us, but the tidings that the Huns, whom the Lord
destroy, are following on our heels." ...
"The sooner they come, the better," defiantly said the Abbot of the
Reichenau, raising his goblet.
"Here's to the arms of God's own champions," said the Duchess, ringing
her glass, against his.
"And revenge for the death of the brave Romeias," added Praxedis in a
low voice and with tears in her eyes, when her glass vibrated against
that of the gaunt Fridinger.
It was getting late. Wild songs and warlike cries, were still
resounding in the hall on the first floor. The young monk who had come
to the Reichenau from Mutina in Italy, had again struck up his
sentinel's song.
The opportunity for valiant deeds, was no longer very far off.