that there is no security for love in this life, but only in Paradise!’
By this time we had arrived at our journey’s end and were entering the
city of Mosul, where separation would come upon us, and the hearts of
both of us were full. Yet a few steps, and we should enter the palace
of Hussein, after which our companionship would be ended for ever, and
I should never set eyes on Zehneb again, much less hear or talk to her.
Already a guard of honour had come forth to meet us, and presently
Hussein approached and embraced me, and then led the way at the head of
the procession to a palace that he had prepared for the reception of
Zehneb, whose nuptials were to be celebrated on the morrow. After this
I followed him to the Governor’s palace. He was full of questions as to
the events of the journey and of our old home, but every word from him
was as a stab in my heart. I could not talk, so full were my thoughts
of Zehneb and of our separation, and I answered him but absently. Then
he commanded the slaves to bring the table, and we washed our hands
and sat, Hussein feeding me and commending the dishes, but I had no
appetite and I could not eat. Then they set the sweetmeats before us
of a hundred different sorts, and he conjured me to eat; but when I
essayed to do so the conserves seemed to dry up in my mouth, and I was
not able to. So he ordered them to set the wine before us, wine from
Shiraz of the choicest, and he filled a cup and handed it to me, and
said: ‘Oh Yousef, drink to the happiness of thy brother Hussein and to
his speedy union with Zehneb, the beloved one.’ Whereupon I drank,
and said: ‘May all happiness be theirs!’ Then Hussein said: ‘Tell us
somewhat of Zehneb, and of her beauty, for thou hast been with her many
days and hast enjoyed her company, nor would I have entrusted her to
any one but thee.’ Upon this I hung my head, and said: ‘Oh, my lord,
it is in truth of thy kindness that thou commandest me to speak of
one whose charms are such that any word concerning her is delightful;
but I desire of thy goodness that I may be excused, for my tongue is
inept, and I have not yet recovered from the fatigues of the journey
and my fear and anxiety concerning her safety.’ Whereat he laughed, and
said: ‘Oh Yousef, indeed we would not force thee; but since thy bosom
is contracted, perhaps the hearing of music will dilate it.’ Then he
clapped his hands, and a slave girl appeared more beautiful than the
Moon; and behind her came another slave girl carrying a lute in a bag
of silk. And when she had seated herself, she drew the lute forth, and
tuned it, bending over it as a mother bends over her child; then she
swept her hands over the strings, and they wailed as a lover mourning
the loss of his beloved. After a prelude played in seven different
manners, she sang as follows:
Like the Cassia branch is she,
Oh, my soul, so slim and fair!
Sweet as honey from the bee:
None can with my love compare!
I saw the bright Moon rise on high,
Amidst the constellations pass:
My love is like the Moon, I cry,
As unattainable, alas!
I fear to die of grief. Ah me!
A burning fire consumes my heart
There is no greater agony
Than that when weeping lovers part!
Be sparing of your blame on one
Who must endure a lover’s pain:
There is no hope left to me, none,
That I shall meet her e’er again!
Then peace be on thee, fairest love!
Nought in the world of power or pelf,
No being on earth, or heaven above,
Can compensate me for thyself!
When she had finished, I gave a great cry and fell back senseless;
and Hussein sprinkled me with rose-water until I had recovered. Then
he said to me: ‘Oh, my brother, I did not ply thee with questions
concerning Zehneb but of my desire to prove to myself what I knew
before, namely the love and affection that thou bearest to her. Know
that I was with the caravan the whole of the journey in the guise of
a camel-driver, and listened to thy conversation with Zehneb, and to
the stories that were related between you; and I became aware that thou
didst love her, and that she loved thee in return. Nevertheless thy
loyalty to friendship, and her loyalty to her betrothed, withstood the
temptation of mutual love. Oh Yousef! if thou wert not my brother I
would not do what I am about to do: for I also, in seeing and hearing
her and learning the nobility of her mind and the beauty of her
understanding, learned to love her too. But thou hast the first right
to her, since she loves thee, and I yield her up. We will celebrate
your nuptials to-morrow.’ When I heard this, I threw myself on the
ground before him, and kissed his hands, and thanked him in stammering
words. Then I drew out the Jacinth from my bosom, the talisman which
my father had given to me and which I had worn ever since, and it had
never left me, and I said: ‘Oh, my Lord, thou hast overwhelmed me with
thy bounty and kindness, and thy slave hath neither words to thank thee
nor aught to make in return to thee for thy beneficence. But deign to
take this jewel, which alone, of all I possess, is not wholly unworthy
of thy acceptance; for good fortune can do no harm even to those who
enjoy the highest of the gifts of God. It is a talisman by virtue of
which the wearer ever has good luck;’ and I related to him its story:
whereupon he took it and thanked me, and tied it round his neck.
The next day my marriage with Zehneb was celebrated with the utmost
magnificence and pomp. Hussein appointed me to a subordinate
governorship at Jaffa; and I took up my residence there, dealing justly
with my people, and was beloved by them in return. But one day as I was
riding along by the seashore with but few attendants, in order that I
might examine more closely a ship which was anchored hard by, a number
of men suddenly darted up from behind the sandhills, where they had
been concealed, and seized me together with such of my attendants as
had been unable to fly, and hurrying us on board the vessel, weighed
the anchor and set sail; so that I knew that they were pirates. They
sold me to a dealer in slaves at Alexandria, who would not listen to me
when I told him who I was, and that I was a true believer and a free
man whom it was not lawful to enslave; nor would he believe that I was
able to pay ransom, for he perceived that I was a Kurd. So he sold me
to some merchants of Barbary, and now I am become what you see. Destiny
had marked me out for misfortune; I am cast down from the highest
happiness to the lowest depths of despair, and scarcely have a hope
left that I shall ever enjoy felicity again in this life.
I tell this story as one that I thought to be worthy of remembrance
and one of those that served to beguile some of the tedious hours of
my captivity. There were besides others, not unworthy of notice, one
especially, which was told to me by a High German, a slave of sinister
aspect, who called himself Wolfram von Rabenbach, which I think worthy
of relation; though, indeed, I hardly know whether to give credence to
it or not: for it contains many wonderful things concerning the power
of Satan over mortals, which were more frequent in past ages than in
these times. This slave related to us one evening the story of his
life, as follows.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_THE STORY OF WOLFRAM VON RABENBACH_
I need not begin the story of my life with any account of my early
youth, which passed without any noteworthy event, much as that of
others; but I will begin from the time that I entered the service of
Count Dietrich von Schneckenstein, lord of Schneckenstein, at a time
when I was yet scarce eighteen years old. The castle of Schneckenstein
was situated on the summit of a lofty pinnacle of rock, the spur of
a still higher mountain, and all around was a dense pine forest, the
home of the deer, wild boar, wolf, and occasional bears. The cultivated
plains beneath served to sustain the laborious population of many
villages, who all owned the Lord of Schneckenstein for their master.
Our days were passed in hunting and the exercises of war, and our
evenings in wild carouse; when Count Dietrich with his knights and any
stranger guests that chanced to be passing that way and claimed his
hospitality, would drink and sing and swear until the early hours of
the morning. There was nothing to hinder him or to soften his manners.
His wife had been dead many years, leaving an only daughter who was
called Hildegard, and who was, at the time I am speaking of, the only
lady in the castle. But she never appeared at her father’s board, being
still young, only fourteen years of age; and she passed her time in
the ordinary occupations of females with her women in a separate wing
of the castle. I had been about a year in Count Dietrich’s service
before I saw her; and though I had heard that she was very beautiful,
I had never given much thought to her until one day when being on
guard, I saw her passing from the castle gardens to her bower. I had
no sooner seen her than, young as we both were, I had fallen in love
with her; but, on my part, it was a hopeless love, for how could I hope
without either rank or wealth to be able to carry off the heiress of
the house of Schneckenstein? For her part I doubt that she ever saw
me, or if she did, that she ever noticed me amidst the crowd of her
father’s retainers; and I was compelled to nurse my love in silence.
This I would willingly have done for an indefinite time, for it was
sufficient for me to worship her at a distance so long as I had no fear
of any rival; but, to my great distress, the confessor of my Lord of
Schneckenstein recalled him from his selfish pursuits to think of his
daughter who, as he pointed out, was now growing up to womanhood, and
whose beauty was so renowned that it only needed a public declaration
from her father that he was willing to entertain the idea of marriage
for his daughter, for a crowd of suitors for her hand to come forward.
Count Dietrich took this advice to heart, and since he knew of no one
more suitable for a husband to her than another, he adopted the usual
device of proclaiming a tournament (though such jousts were rather out
of date), the winner of which was to be rewarded with his daughter’s
hand.
This announcement cost me the utmost perturbation of spirit. How
could I hope to prove victorious in a tournament against the most
accomplished cavaliers of the age? And if I were, how could I, without
rank or wealth, be accepted as a suitor for her hand? One afternoon,
almost beside myself with these thoughts, I wandered forth into the
woods. It wanted but a few days to the tournament. The weather was
lowering and portended a storm. Already as I walked beneath the giant
pines they sighed to the first blast of the gale. Soon murky clouds
began to discharge their threatening drops of moisture, the heavens
grew dark as night, blinding flashes of lightning were followed by
peals of thunder that shook the earth; the wind howled and roared,
making the trees to groan and creak and crash around me. But the
turmoil of the storm hardly echoed the fury within my soul as I
struggled on in an ecstasy of rage. I cursed my fate, I cursed the
elements and bade them do their worst, I cursed the day on which I
was born, I cursed my life, and I cursed the life to come! Suddenly a
terrible flash of lightning blasted a tree just before me; recoiling
almost blinded, I was recovering from the shock when I saw a figure
clad all in red emerge from behind the ruined trunk. Though my spirits
a moment before had been madly excited, a sudden horror seized me at
the sight of the stranger. I would have turned and fled had I not been
paralysed. A thousand thoughts of fear, anger, horror, and of flight,
chased each other through my brain as I stood uncertain what to do;
but before I could determine anything the stranger accosted me--that
is, I seemed to know what he said though no words were expressed. It
seemed to me that he knew all my past life--of my love, of my longing,
and of my despair; and that he gave me the promise of success in the
forthcoming tournament upon one condition: it seemed to me that he
assured me of the attainment of all I wished during this life if I
would agree to serve him in the life hereafter. I loved too deeply
to refuse; and straightway he produced a document already engrossed
and with my name in it, and then handing me a pen he pointed out the
place where I was to sign. ‘One drop of blood,’ he said, ‘to write
your signature is enough for me; we need no seal.’ I drew my poignard
and bade him use it on my arm; but he fell back and said that he could
have no hand in it, and that I must do it myself. So I drew blood and
signed. Then there came a roll of thunder more terrible than any I
had yet heard; lightnings played around and a cloud of sulphurous and
other mephitic vapours surrounded and almost suffocated me, so that I
lost my senses for a time, and when I had regained them the stranger
was gone, but there near by me, tied to a tree, was a war horse laden
with a complete suit of magnificent armour. As I turned home cowed and
sad, leading my new possession by the bridle, the storm began to abate,
dying away in wails and sobs, but the tempestuous air seemed to my
imagination to be thick with unseen beings, that could be felt although
they could not be seen. A rush of wings accompanied me as I went, howls
and groans were intermingled with sad sweet cries, among which I could
distinguish the words ‘Lost! lost!’ drowned in shrieks of fiendish
laughter. The rain now ceased, but the wind still wailed dirges
through the trees, and night was coming on apace. As I groped my way
onward, strange shadowy forms seemed to dog my footsteps, and stranger
creatures seemed to follow me through the branches overhead. Ghastly
faces would appear from behind the trunks of the trees, faces that
curdled the very marrow in my bones, so terrible was their expression
or so awful the agony they betrayed; while ever and anon some frightful
flying thing would sweep by me so closely as to brush my face with a
touch that froze me.
At length I reached the castle again, and hid the horse with its
precious burden in one of the outlying stables. Then I retired to
my chamber and thought over all that I had gone through. My first
impulse was to confess all to Father Kussmaul, the chaplain, and
seek to expiate by penance the frightful doom I had incurred. But
could I sacrifice all hope of happiness in this life for fear of the
shadowy penalties in the life to come? Oh, Hildegard! who that had
once seen thee would not sooner have braved the deepest depths of hell
than have foregone one gentle regard from thee? In pain and terror I
watched during the next few days the preparations for the tournament;
in pain because I now lived a haunted life, my nights were full of
awful dreams, I seemed to be dragged down into deep abysses by the
most frightful demons, and would awake in a cold sweat and trembling.
In terror I passed my hours lest the promises of Satan should not be
fulfilled; and I, inexperienced and weak, should be vanquished by the
practised warriors who already filled the castle. Every day, two,
three, or half a dozen would arrive, and dreadful were the riots and
debauches among them of nights. Each one brought with him a squire
and retainers, and every hour there would be measuring of muscle, and
deep wagers on the prowess and skill of their several lords, while I
looked on as one distraught. The noise and clamour of their tongues,
the braying of the minstrels, the quarrels of the masters, the snarling
of their hounds, all went through my brain like the whirling of great
mill-wheels, and I had almost given up my love and started for Rome
when the eventful day arrived. The jousts were to begin at noon, and it
was scarcely an hour before that time when I escaped from my duties and
stole away to where my horse and armour were concealed in the forest.
There I armed myself cap-à-pié, and set forth; nor had I gone a few
yards when I heard the clattering of hoofs behind me and the tootooing
of a horn. I reined in my steed and looked round, when I saw one in the
guise of a squire, so evil a face I had never before seen, who, as soon
as he saw me stop, called out: ‘This is no time for delay, my Lord, the
joust is begun!’ ‘And you,’ I cried, ‘who are you?’ ‘I am your squire,’
he answered, ‘and come whence your horse and armour came; onward, we
are late!’ In despair, I put spurs to my horse, and we arrived just
as the last pair were engaged. It was a warm day; the lists were
almost hidden in a cloud of dust, which, however, did not rise to the
high tribune where Hildegard sat, the Queen of the tournament, among
her maidens. No questions were asked me, and I did not raise my
vizor, though many gazed curiously at my deviceless shield of maiden
whiteness, and whispered among each other: ‘A stranger knight!’ There
was a rush of horses, a mighty shock, and one of the combatants lay
senseless on the ground. Then my squire rang out an aggressive blast,
the knight was carried off, and I and the triumphant conqueror stood
face to face in the lists. I could not see his face, for his vizor
was down, but I recognised by his shield the knight of Berghausen, a
bull-necked stalwart chief who had been the favourite of the wagerers.
The air was rent by shouts as he pranced proudly round, which he
acknowledged by a slight inclination of his head; and when I advanced,
I could see that he looked me over from top to toe, observed my weak
arm and slim build, and made sure of an easy victory. Then we wheeled
our horses round, and after doing our obeisance to the Queen of Beauty,
took up our positions at the further end of the lists and awaited the
signal of the herald. After three blasts from his attendant trumpets
he cast down his wand, and scarcely had it touched the ground when we
put spurs to our steeds and met in the centre of the lists. His spear
only touched my armour when it shivered into a thousand fragments;
while mine, blunted as it was, would have done him no further injury
than to unhorse him had it not broken off at the end, and by some
mischance pierced him through the eye, and to my astonishment and
horror, stretched him lifeless upon the ground. The ladies shrieked,
and there were angry murmurs among the Lord of Berghausen’s men;
several of his knights made for their horses and lowered their vizors,
but the Count of Schneckenstein signed to a body of his men-at-arms
to form up between us, and, frowning fearfully, summoned me as the
victor to accompany him before the Queen of Beauty. ‘I cannot accuse
you of want of skill, Sir Knight,’ he said, ‘for none but a skilful
knight could have withstood the Lord of Berghausen, who was doubtlessly
born under an unlucky star; nevertheless, we did not look for such
an end.’ At this moment we came up to the throne where Hildegard sat
blushing among her attendants; and the Count bade me remove my vizor
and kneel down to receive the wreath. ‘_Himmelkreuzdonnerwetter!_’ he
ejaculated, starting back a pace or two; ‘why, it is our Wolfram!’ He
gasped with rage, the big veins stood out from his forehead, and he
cried out to the guards to seize me and instantly clap me in one of
the most loathsome cells beneath the donjon keep. But Hildegard rose
from her seat, and with a glowing face waved back the men-at-arms who
were already advancing. ‘Father,’ she said, ‘is this the way you keep
your plighted word? Did you not offer my hand to whomsoever should
prove victorious; and because the victor proves to be one of your
own household, is he, he who has brought honour to your roof, to be
refused?’ I seized her hand and kissed it, while the Count seemed to be
irresolute, and finally bade me ‘take off those things’ and return to
my duties while he thought the matter over.
There was some trouble about the death of the Knight of Berghausen.
His followers wished to have me delivered up to them for punishment,
and swore that it was a foul stroke: but the Count would not listen
to them. ‘I will bury your Lord with pleasure in the most honourable
way,’ he said to them; ‘but Wolfram is of gentle birth and there is
no dishonour in dying by his hand. ’Tis all fortune and chance: had
the knight killed Wolfram, though he be of my own house, I should have
borne him no malice. _Potztousand_, why all this fuss?’ And I verily
believe that their grumbling did my case good; for the Count was
thereby forced to take my side, and so came to think better of me.
Nevertheless, he would not listen to my suit; and once when I ventured
humbly to recall to him the labours I had undertaken for the promised
guerdon, he only answered: ‘Away, and be thankful that so far you have
escaped my resentment, nor let me cast eyes upon you if you love your
skin.’
I therefore kept beyond his view; for, indeed, his nature was hot:
but I ventured, whenever I got the chance, to throw myself in the way
of Hildegard, and from exchanging a few words, we came, little by
little, to meeting often as ’twere by chance; and thence to talk, to
confidences, and so to mutual love. But I was constantly in fear lest
her confessor should get wind of the affair and reveal our secret to
the Count, and so either get me banished, or get her married to one
of her many suitors, or, perchance both. I therefore in one of our
conversations urged my fears, to which she replied that, indeed, they
were well founded, and that she dare not dispute her father’s will.
Then I urged her to fly with me beyond the power of her father, but
this she feared to do: ‘Nay,’ says she, ‘that would be evil.’ Again I
urged the certainty of our separation, that it was her father who had
done evil in breaking his parole: for had he not pledged her hand to
the victor in the tournament? Could she bring herself to be the wife
of another? At this she wept and bemoaned her hard fate, compelling
her either to disobey her father or to lose her lover; and shortly
afterwards we were forced to part; but I had reason to hope that
another attack would bring her to yield, and therefore went to consult
my squire, him of the evil countenance, who since the tournament had
joined the body of the Count’s men-at-arms, but who was really only my
valet. I ordained him to have a couple of horses waiting at the postern
gate so soon as it became dark, and, when the time arrived I took my
mandoline and sang these verses beneath her bower:
Listen, fair maid, to a lover’s prayer!
Wilt thou not hear me, my own sweetheart?
Bid me, oh, bid me not despair!
Then say me not nay, my true love, I pray,
Oh, list to me, darling, my life, my soul,
Oh, list to me, darling, my own sweetheart!
I only live now thy love to gain;
Wilt thou not love me a little, sweetheart?
Let me not think I love in vain;
Then say me not nay, my true love, I pray,
Oh, say thou dost love me, my life, my soul,
Oh, say thou dost love me, my own sweetheart
Tell me, my love, thou wilt be mine:
Wilt thou not say it, my own sweetheart?
I’ve given my love, then give me thine;
Oh, say me not nay, my true love, I pray,
Wilt thou not say it, my life, my soul,
Wilt thou not say it, my own sweetheart!
And if thou dost thy love deny
(Thou’lt ne’er be so cruel, my own sweetheart!)
Then I must lay me down and die!
Oh, say me not nay, my true love, I pray,
Thou’lt ne’er be so cruel, my life, my soul,
Thou’lt ne’er be so cruel, my own sweetheart!
I had hardly finished, when her adorable figure appeared on the
terrace. She flew into my arms, and weeping, said: ‘No, Wolfram, I am
not cruel, I have given thee my love as thou hast given me thine.’ We
exchanged some love passages, and then I told her of my preparations;
how the horses were now in readiness, and I drew a picture of herself
in the arms of some lord chosen for her by her father and myself pining
in banishment; then, falling on my knees, I besought her to prove her
love for me and to fly upon the instant. She wept an abundance of
tears, but, nevertheless, at that moment she could deny me nothing,
and, to my inexpressible joy, she yielded, though beside herself for
fear. Yet so great was her confidence in me, and so great her horror of
our separation, that she allowed me to lead her out, and we were soon
mounted and on our way.