Monk Gregory was pacing the high road between the Imperial camp and
suffering Cologne. The sun had risen through interminable distances of
cloud that held him remote in a succession of receding mounds and thinner
veils, realm beyond realm, till he showed fireless, like a phantom king
in a phantom land. The lark was in the breast of morning. The field-
mouse ran along the furrows. Dews hung red and grey on the weedy banks
and wayside trees. At times the nostril of the good father was lifted,
and he beat his breast, relapsing into sorrowful contemplation. Passed-
any citizen of Cologne, the ghostly head sunk into its cowl. 'There's a
black raven!' said many. Monk Gregory heard them, and murmured, 'Thou
hast me, Evil one! thou hast me!'
It was noon when Farina came clattering down from the camp.
'Father,' said he, 'I have sought thee.'
'My son!' exclaimed Monk Gregory with silencing hand, 'thou didst not
well to leave me contending against the tongues of doubt. Answer me not.
The maiden! and what weighed she in such a scale?--No more! I am
punished. Well speaks the ancient proverb:
"Beware the back-blows of Sathanas!"
I, that thought to have vanquished him! Vanity has wrecked me, in this
world and the next. I am the victim of self-incense. I hear the demons
shouting their chorus--"Here comes Monk Gregory, who called himself
Conqueror of Darkness!" In the camp I am discredited and a scoff; in the
city I am spat upon, abhorred. Satan, my son, fights not with his fore-
claws. 'Tis with his tail he fights, O Farina!--Listen, my son! he
entered to his kingdom below through Cologne, even under the stones of
the Cathedral Square, and the stench of him abominably remaineth,
challenging the nostrils of holy and unholy alike. The Kaiser cannot
approach for him; the citizens are outraged. Oh! had I held my peace in
humbleness, I had truly conquered him. But he gave me easy victory, to
inflate me. I shall not last. Now this only is left, my son; that thou
bear living testimony to the truth of my statement, as I bear it to the
folly!'
Farina promised, in the face of all, he would proclaim and witness to his
victory on Drachenfels.
'That I may not be ranked an impostor!' continued the Monk. 'And how
great must be the virtue of them that encounter that dark spirit! Valour
availeth nought. But if virtue be not in' ye, soon will ye be puffed to
bursting with that devil's poison, self-incense. Surely, my son, thou
art faithful; and for this service I can reward thee. Follow me yet
again.'
On the road they met Gottlieb Groschen, hastening to the camp. Dismay
rumpled the old merchant's honest jowl. Farina drew rein before him.
'Your daughter is safe, worthy Master Groschen,' said he.
'Safe?' cried Gottlieb; 'where is she, my Grete?'
Farina briefly explained. Gottlieb spread out his arms, and was going to
thank the youth. He saw Father Gregory, and his whole frame narrowed
with disgust.
'Are you in company with that pestilent animal, that curse of Cologne!'
'The good Monk--,' said Farina.
'You are leagued with him, then, sirrah! Expect no thanks from me.
Cologne, I say, is cursed! Meddling wretches! could ye not leave Satan
alone? He hurt us not. We were free of him. Cologne, I say, is cursed!
The enemy of mankind is brought by you to be the deadly foe of Cologne.'
So saying, Gottlieb departed.
'Seest thou, my son,' quoth the Monk, 'they reason not!'
Farina was dejected. Willingly would he, for his part, have left the
soul of Evil a loose rover for the sake of some brighter horizon to his
hope.
No twinge of remorse accompanied Gottlieb. The Kaiser had allotted him
an encampment and a guard of honour for his household while the foulness
raged, and there Gottlieb welcomed back Margarita and Aunt Lisbeth on the
noon after his meeting with Farina. The White Rose had rested at Laach,
and was blooming again. She and the Goshawk came trotting in advance of
the Club through the woods of Laach, startling the deer with laughter,
and sending the hare with her ears laid back all across country. In vain
Dietrich menaced Guy with the terrors of the Club: Aunt Lisbeth begged of
Margarita not to leave her with the footmen in vain. The joyous couple
galloped over the country, and sprang the ditches, and leapt the dykes,
up and down the banks, glad as morning hawks, entering Andernach at a
round pace; where they rested at a hostel as capable of producing good
Rhine and Mosel wine then as now. Here they had mid-day's meal laid out
in the garden for the angry Club, and somewhat appeased them on their
arrival with bumpers of the best Scharzhofberger. After a refreshing
halt, three boats were hired. On their passage to the river, they
encountered a procession of monks headed by the Archbishop of Andernach,
bearing a small figure of Christ carved in blackthorn and varnished: said
to work miracles, and a present to the good town from two Hungarian
pilgrims.
'Are ye for Cologne?' the monks inquired of them.
'Direct down stream!' they answered.
'Send, then, hither to us Gregory, the conqueror of Darkness, that he may
know there is gratitude on earth and gratulation for great deeds,' said
the monks.
So with genuflexions the travellers proceeded, and entered the boats by
the Archbishop's White Tower. Hammerstein Castle and Rheineck they
floated under; Salzig and the Ahr confluence; Rolandseck and Nonnenwerth;
Drachenfels and Bonn; hills green with young vines; dells waving fresh
foliage. Margarita sang as they floated. Ancient ballads she sang that
made the Goshawk sigh for home, and affected the Club with delirious love
for the grand old water that was speeding them onward. Aunt Lisbeth was
not to be moved. She alone held down her head. She looked not Gottlieb
in the face as he embraced her. Nor to any questioning would she
vouchsafe reply. From that time forth, she was charity to woman; and the
exuberant cheerfulness and familiarity of the men toward her soon grew
kindly and respectful. The dragon in Aunt Lisbeth was destroyed. She
objected no more to Margarita's cameo.
The Goshawk quickly made peace with his lord, and enjoyed the
commendation of the Kaiser. Dietrich Schill thought of challenging him;
but the Club had graver business: and this was to pass sentence on
Berthold Schmidt for the crime of betraying the White Rose into the hands
of Werner. They had found Berthold at the Eck, and there consented to
let him remain until ransom was paid for his traitorous body. Berthold
in his mad passion was tricked by Werner, and on his release, by payment
of the ransom, submitted to the judgement of the Club, which condemned
him to fight them all in turn, and then endure banishment from Rhineland;
the Goshawk, for his sister's sake, interceding before a harsher
tribunal.