Every one was ready to nurse the little maid who called herself “little
Katie.” But as to Herdegen, I was compelled for the time to say nothing
to him of what Ann required of him, for he lay sick of a fever. He was
faithfully tended by Eppelein, the son of a good servant of our father’s
who had lost his life in waiting on his master when stricken with the
plague. Eppelein had indeed grown up in our household, among the
horses; even as a lad he had by turns helped Herdegen in his sports,
and rendered him good service, and had ever shown him a warmer love than
that of a hireling.
It fell out one day that my brother’s best horse came to harm by this
youth’s fault, and when Herdegen, for many days, would vouchsafe no word
to him the lad took it so bitterly to heart that he stole away from the
house, and whereas no one could find him, we feared for a long time that
he had done himself a mischief. Nevertheless he was alive and of good
heart. He had passed the months in a various life; first as a crier to a
wandering quack, and afterwards, inasmuch as he was a nimble and likely
lad, he had waited on the guests at one of the best frequented inns at
Wurzberg. It came then to pass that his eminence Cardinal Branda, Nuncio
from his Holiness the Pope, took up his quarters there, and he carried
the lad away with him as his body-servant to Italy, and treated him well
till the restless wight suddenly fell into a languor of home-sickness,
and ran away from this good master, as erewhile he had run away from our
house. Perchance some love-matter drove him to fly. Certain it is that
in his wandering among strangers he had come to be a mighty handy,
wide-awake fellow, with much that was good in him, inasmuch as with all
his subtlety he had kept his true Nuremberger’s heart.
When he had journeyed safely home again he one day stole unmarked into
our courtyard, where his old mother lived in an out-building on the
charity of the Schoppers; he went up to her and stood before her, albeit
she knew him not, and laid the gold pieces he had saved one by one on
the work-table before her. The little old woman scarce knew where she
was for sheer amazement, nor wist she who he was till he broke out into
his old loud laugh at the sight of her dismay. Verily, as she afterwards
said, that laugh brought more gladness to her heart and had rung sweeter
in her ears than the gold pieces.
Then Susan had called us down to the courtyard, and when a smart young
stripling came forth to meet us, clad in half Italian and half German
guise, none knew who he might be till he looked Herdegen straight in
the face, and my brother cried out: “It is our Eppelein!” Then the tears
flowed fast down his cheeks, but Herdegen clasped him to him and kissed
him right heartily on both cheeks.
All this did I bring to mind as I saw this said Eppelein carefully and
sorrowfully laying a wet cloth, at my aunt’s bidding, on his master’s
head where it was so sorely cut; and methought how well it would have
been if Herdegen were still so ready to follow the prompting of his
heart.
Understanding anon that I was not needed by this bed, where Eppelein
kept faithful watch and ward, and that Sir Franz’s chamber was closed to
me, I went down stairs again, for I had heard a rumor that the swarthy
lad--who had yesterday played on the pipe--was to be put to the torture.
This I would fain have hindered, whereas by many tokens I was certain
that the said comely youth was not one of the vagabond crew, but, like
little Katie, might well be a child knavishly kidnapped from some
noble house. Whereas I reached the hall, Balzer, the keeper, was about
bringing the lad in. Outside indeed it was dim and wet, but within
it was no less comfortable, for a mighty fire was blazing in the wide
chimney-place. My aunt was warming her thereat, and Ann likewise was
of the company, with Uncle Conrad, Jost Tetzel, my godfather Christian
Pfinzing, and the several guests.
I joined myself to them and in an under tone told them what I had noted,
saying that, more by token the youth must have a good conscience; for,
whereas he had not been cast into the cell but had been locked into a
stable to take charge of the camels and the ape, he had nevertheless not
tried to escape, although it would have been easy.
To this opinion some inclined; and seeing that the boy spoke but a
few words of German, but knew more of Italian, I addressed him in that
tongue; and then it came to light that he was verily and indeed a stolen
child. The vagabonds had bartered for him in Italy, giving a fair girl
whom they had with them in exchange; likewise he said he was of princely
birth, but had fallen into slavery some two years since, when a fine
galley governed by his father, an Emir or prince of Egypt, had fought
with another coming from Genoa in Italy.
When I had presently interpreted these words to the others, Jost Tetzel,
Ursula’s father, declared them to be sheer lies and knavery; even Uncle
Conrad deemed them of little worth; and for this reason: that if the
lad had indeed been the son of some grand Emir of Egypt the bear-leader
would for certain have made profit of him by requiring his ransom.
But when I told the lad of this he fixed his great eyes very modestly on
me, and in truth there was no small dignity in his mien and voice as he
asked me:
“Could I then bring poverty on my parents, who were ever good to me, to
bestow wealth on that evil brood? Never should those knavish rogues
have learnt from me what I have gladly revealed to thee who are full of
goodness and beauty!”
This speech went to my heart; and if it were not truth then is there no
truth in all the world! But when again I had interpreted his words, and
Tetzel still would but shrug his shoulders, this vexed me so greatly
that it was as much as I could do to refrain myself, and hold my peace.
I had seen from the first, in Uncle Christian’s eyes, that he was of
the same mind with me; yet could I not guess what purpose he had in his
head, although to judge by her face it was something passing strange,
when he muttered some behest to Ann with his poor fettered tongue. Then,
when she told me what my godfather required of me, I was not in any
haste to obey, for, indeed, maidenly bashfulness and pity hindered me.
Yet, whereas the brave old man nodded to spur me on, with his heavy
head, still covered with a cold wet cloth, I called up all my daring,
and before the lad was aware I dealt him a slap on the cheek.
It was not a hard blow, but the lad seemed as much amazed as though the
earth had opened at his feet. His dark face turned ashen-grey and his
great eyes looked at me in tearful enquiry, but so grievously that I
already rued my unseemly deed.
Soon, however, I had cause to be glad; the youth’s demeanor won his
cause. Uncle Christian had only desired to prove him. He knew men well,
and he knew that youths of various birth take a blow in the face in
various ways; now, the Emir’s son had demeaned him as one of his rank,
and had stood the ordeal! So my aunt Jacoba told him, for she had at
once seen through Uncle Christian’s purpose, and presently Jost Tetzel
himself, though ill-pleased and sullen, confessed his error. Then,
when they had promised the youth that he should be spared all further
ill-usage, he opened the lining of his garment and showed us a gem which
his mother had privily hung about his neck, and which was a lump or
tablet of precious sky-blue turkis-stone, as large as a great plum,
whereon was some charm inscribed in strange, outlandish signs which the
Jewish Rabbi Hillel, when he saw it, declared to be Arabic letters.
The bear-leader had called the lad Beppo; but his real name was a
long one and hard to utter, out of which my forest uncle picked up two
syllables for a name he could speak with ease, calling him Akusch.
With Cousin Maud’s assent the black youth was attached to my service as
Squire, inasmuch as it was I who at first had “dubbed him knight;” and
when I gave him to understand this he could not contain himself for joy,
and from that hour he ever proved my most ready servant, ever alert and
thankful; and the little benevolence it was in my power to shew the poor
lad bore fruit more than a thousand fold in after times, to me and mine.
After noon that same day Ann confessed to me that she had it in her
mind to quit the lodge that very evening, journeying home with Master
Ulsenius; and when she withstood all my entreaties she told Cousin Maud
likewise that she had indeed already left her own kin too long without
her succor.
Aunt Jacoba was in her chimney corner, and how she took this sudden
purpose on Ann’s part, may be imagined.
It was so gloomy a day that there was scarce a change when dusk fell.
Grey wreaths of cloud hung over the tree-tops, and fine rain dripped
with a soft, steady patter, as though it would never cease; nor was
there another sound, inasmuch as neither horn, nor watchman’s cry, nor
bell might break the silence, for the sake of the wounded men; nay, even
the hounds, meseemed, understood that the daily course of life was out
of gear.
Ann had gone to pack her little baggage with Susan’s help, but she had
bid me remain with the child. It was going on finely; it would play with
the doll my Aunt had given it in happy pastime, and now I did the little
one’s bidding and was right glad to be her play fellow for a while.
Time slipped on as I sat there making merry with little Katie, doing the
dolly’s leather breeches and jerkin off and on, blowing on the child’s
little shoulder when it smarted or giving her a sweetmeat to comfort
her, and still Ann came not, albeit she had promised to join me so soon
as her baggage was ready.
Hereupon a sudden fear seized me, and as soon as the housekeeper came up
I went to seek Ann in our chamber. There stood all her chattel, so neat
as only she could make them; and I learnt from Susan that Ann had gone
down, some time since, into Aunt Jacoba’s chamber.
I was minded to seek her there, and went by the ante-chamber where the
sick lady’s writing-table and books stood, and which led to the sitting
chamber. I trod lightly by reason that the knight’s chamber was beneath;
thus no one heard me; but I could see beyond the dark ante-chamber into
the further one, where wax lights were burning in a double candlestick,
and lo! Ann was on her knees by the sick lady’s couch, like to the
linden-tree which the storm had overthrown yesternight; and she hid
her face in my aunt’s lap and sobbed so violently that her slender body
shook as though in a fever. And Aunt Jacoba had laid her two hands on
Ann’s head, as it were in blessing. And I saw first one large tear, and
then many more, run down the face of this very woman who had cast out
her own fair son. Often had I marked on her little finger a certain ring
in which a little white thing was set; yet was this no splinter of the
bone of a Saint, but the first tooth her banished son had shed. And,
when she deemed that no man saw her, she would press her hand to her
lips and kiss the little tooth with fervent love. And now, whereas love
had waked up again in her heart, that son had his part and share in it;
for albeit none dared make mention of him in her presence she ever loved
him as the apple of her eye.
I was no listener, yet could I not shut mine ears; I heard how the frail
old lady exhorted the love-sick maid, and bid her trust in God, and
in Herdegen’s faithfulness. Also I heard her speak well indeed of my
brother’s spirit and will as noble and upright; and she promised Ann to
uphold her to the best of her power.
She bid her favorite farewell with a fond kiss, and many comforting
words; and as she did so I minded me of a wondrously fair maiden, the
daughter of Pernhart the coppersmith, known to young and old in the town
as fair Gertrude, who, each time I had beheld her of late, meseemed had
grown even sadder and paler, and whom I now knew that I should never see
more, inasmuch as that only yestereve Uncle Christian had told us, with
tears in his eyes, that this sweet maid had died of pining, and had been
buried only a day or two since with much pomp. Now my aunt had heard
these tidings, and she had shaken her head in silence and folded her
hands, as it were in prayer, fixing her eyes on the ground.
Cousin Gotz and Herdegen--fair Gertrude and my Ann; what made them so
unlike that my aunt should bring herself to mete their bonds of love
with so various a measure?
I quitted the room when Ann came forth, and outside the door I clasped
her in my arms; and in the last hour we spent together at the forest
lodge she bid me greet her heart’s beloved from her, and gave me for
him the last October rose-bud, which my uncle had plucked for her at
parting. Yet she held to her demands.
She left us after supper, escorted by Master Ulsemus. She had come
hither one sunny morn with the song of the larks, and now she departed
in darkness and gloom.