"Could I but once that face so dear
Behold before we sever;
And once again those accents hear,
Before we part for ever."
C. GRUeNEISEN.
On the following day a horseman, oppressed by the heat of the mid-day
sun, was bending his way over that part of the Swabian Alb which leads
towards Franconia. He was young, more slim than strong built, and rode
a large brown horse; he was well armed with cuirass, dagger, and sword;
some parts of his defensive apparel, such as his helmet, and steel
plates to cover his limbs, hung to his saddle. The striped light blue
and white scarf, which passed across his breast over the right shoulder
(the distinguishing prerogative of high rank in those days), shewed the
young man to be of noble birth.
He had reached the summit of a hill, which afforded a view into the
valley below, and stopping his horse, he turned on one side to enjoy
the beautiful prospect. Before him lay an extended plain, bounded on
each side by wooded heights, through which flowed the green waters of
the Danube; on his right the chain of hills of the Wuertemberg Alb; on
his left the distant snow-capped Tyrolean Alps. The blue vault of
heaven encircled the scene, and its soft colouring brought out in
strong relief the dark walls of Ulm, its massive spire, and the whole
extent of the town, which lay at the foot of the mountain.
Noon was announced at this moment by the tolling of the bells of the
cathedral; their solemn tones resounded throughout the town and its
extended plain, until they were lost among the distant mountains.
"The same sounds accompany my departure which greeted my arrival,"
thought the young man: "but how different did I interpret their brazen
voices, when for the first time they reached my ear, and guided me to
my love; and now that I depart disconsolate, and without object, the
same tones follow me! They celebrated the birth of my hope, and now
ring its knell. It is the picture of life!" he added, as he took a last
farewell of the town in the valley beneath, and turned his horse away:
"it is, indeed, the picture of life! These same sounds float over
cradle and coffin; and the bells of the chapel of my house which rang a
merry peal at my baptism, will also accompany the last of the
Sturmfeders to the grave."
The mountain now became steeper; and Albert, whom the reader will have
recognised as the young cavalier, allowed his horse to have his own
way. Upon quitting Ulm, he had determined to return to his home in
Franconia, and there wait events, or at any rate the expiration of the
fourteen days' truce he had promised his friend Fronsberg. His heart
naturally would lead him to Lichtenstein, the contrary way to the path
he was now pursuing; yet he felt he had chosen the one most honourable
to his engagements. The balance, however, between the two was very
equally poised, and had he had a friend to decide for him and convince
him that he was now a free agent to travel whither he pleased, provided
he took no part in the contest for fourteen days, he felt that the bent
of his inclinations would turn the scale in favour of the neighbourhood
of his love. The comparison between his present situation and the
former position which he had held only a few days back, did not tend to
cheer his spirits. Sudden changes--violent emotions--his confinement on
the day before--and, above all, the pain of taking leave of men who had
his welfare at heart, produced recollections which almost unmanned him.
Dieterick von Kraft, above all, bewailed his departure. From the first
moment of their acquaintance in the room of the town hall when they
pledged each other in a bumper, to the last hour when they bid adieu in
a parting cup, that excellent friend had manifested the same
uninterrupted good feeling towards him. And how had he requited his
kindness? Occupied solely with self, he had but partially expressed his
sense of obligation to him; and to the honest, straightforward
Breitenstein, who, as well as Fronsberg, had held him up as their
favourite in the army, what return had he made? Truly there is nothing
more painful to a noble mind than the thought of being ungrateful where
its object is to be esteemed.
Full of these gloomy thoughts, he proceeded some distance on his
journey. Feeling the rays of the March sun oppressive, and the mountain
path becoming more rugged, he determined to repose himself and horse
under the shade of an oak tree. He dismounted, loosened the girths of
his saddle, and let his weary beast make the most of the stunted grass
in the neighbourhood. He stretched himself under the tree, and though
his fatiguing ride and the cool shade invited him to rest, still the
unquiet state of the country, so near the theatre of war, the care of
his horse and of his weapons, kept him awake until he at last sank into
that state between watching and sleep, which the body combats in vain.
V
He might have been about half an hour in this situation, when the
neighing of his horse roused him; he looked about, and perceived a man
with his back towards him, occupying himself with the beast. His first
thought was, that taking advantage of his carelessness, the man
intended to make away with his steed; he sprang upon his legs, drew his
sword, and in a trice was by his side. "Stop, villain! what have you to
do with that horse?" he cried, at the same time taking him by the
collar rather roughly.
"Have you already discharged me from your service, sir?" said the man,
whom Albert immediately recognised as the messenger Bertha had sent to
him. The young man was undecided what line of conduct to pursue; for
Fronsberg's warning made him distrustful of the man, whilst Bertha's
confidence in him recommended him. The countryman continued his
conversation, showing him at the same time a handful of hay; "I guessed
you would not have provided fodder for your journey; and as there is
not much grass to be picked up on the mountains, I brought an armful
with me for the brown horse." So spoke the peasant, and continued
feeding the beast.
"And where do you now come from?" asked Albert, having recovered from
his astonishment.
"Why, you rode away from Ulm in such haste, I was not able to follow
you immediately," he answered.
"Don't tell me a falsehood," said the young man, "otherwise I cannot
trust you any more. You do not come from that town at present."
"Well, I suppose you will not be angry, if I was a little earlier than
you on the road?" said the countryman, and turned away; but the cunning
smile on his countenance did not escape Albert.
"Let my horse alone," said Albert, impatiently. "Come, sit down with me
under that oak, and tell me, without hesitation, why you left the town
so suddenly yesterday evening?"
"It was not with the Ulmers' good will; for they even wanted to induce
me to remain longer with them, and to give me board and lodging
gratis," replied the man.
"Yes, they would have put you in the lowest cell of the prison, where
you would have seen neither sun nor moon, the place appropriated to
spies and such like gentry."
"Excuse me, sir," replied the messenger, "though I might have been
somewhat lower, we should both have been under the same roof."
"Dog of a spy!" cried Albert, with anger burning on his cheek; "would
you place my father's son in the same rank with the fifer of Hardt?"
"What is that you say?" replied the other with menacing tone; "what
name is that you mentioned? do you know the fifer of Hardt?" At these
words he grasped his axe, though perhaps involuntarily. His compact,
broad-chested figure, spite of his low stature, gave him the appearance
of an adversary not to be despised: and many a man, single handed,
would have been staggered at his determined countenance and fierce eye.
But the young man leaped up, threw back his long hair, and met the dark
look of his companion with one full of pride and dignity; he seized his
sword, and said calmly, "What do you mean by placing yourself in that
threatening position? If I do not mistake, you are the man I mentioned,
the mover and leader of those rebellious hounds; away with you or I
will show you how such outcasts ought to be treated!"
The countryman struggled with rage; he threw His axe with a powerful
swing into the tree, and stood unarmed before Albert. "Allow me," said
he, "to give you another piece of advice, namely, never to let your
adversary stand between you and your horse, for if I had taken
immediate advantage of your order to take myself off, I should have had
by far the best of it."
A look at his horse proved the truth of what the man said, and Albert
blushed for his inexperience. He quitted the grasp of his sword, and,
without replying, seated himself again on the ground. The countryman
followed his example, but at a respectable distance, and said, "You are
perfectly justified in being suspicious of me, Albert von Sturmfeder;
but if you knew the pain that the name you have just mentioned gives
me, you would pardon my violent conduct. Yes, I am he who goes by that
name; but I have an abhorrence to be called by it: my friends call me
Hans--my enemies the fifer of Hardt, which they know I so much detest."
"What has that name to do with you?" asked Albert; "why are you called
by it? and why do you dislike it?"
"Why do people call me so?" answered the other: "I came from a village
of the name of Hardt; it lies in the low country, not far from
Nuertingen. I follow the profession of music, and play at fairs and
wakes, and when young people want to dance. For this reason I go by the
appellation of the fifer of Hardt; but as this name was stained with
crime and blood in an evil moment, I have dropped it, and cannot bear
the sound of it any longer."
Albert measured him with a searching look, and said, "I know very well
the evil moment to which you allude: when you peasants rebelled against
your Duke, you were one of the worst among them. Is it not true?"
"I see you are acquainted with the history of an unfortunate man," said
the countryman, with penitent downcast looks: "but you must not believe
that I am still the same person; the Holy One saved me and changed my
way of thinking, so that I may now say, I am an honest man."
"Oh! tell me," interrupted Albert, "what was the cause of the
insurrection? How were you saved? and how is it that you now serve the
Duke?"
"I will spare you this information for a more fitting occasion," he
replied, "for I trust this will not be the last time we meet; allow me
to ask you instead, where does this road lead to? It does not lead to
Lichtenstein!"
"I am not going there," said Albert, dejected; "this way leads to
Franconia, to my old uncle; you can tell the lady my plans, when you go
to Lichtenstein."
"And what are you going to do at your old uncle's? To hunt? you can do
so elsewhere; or perhaps to kill time? you can do that cheap enough
all over the world. Take my advice in a few words," he added, with a
good-humoured smile; "turn your horse's head the other way, and take a
ride with me for a couple of days about Wuertemberg. I know the country
well enough to keep you out of harm's way, and though war is declared,
the roads are tolerably safe yet."
The fifer gave him this assurance, in order to encourage him to bend
his steps towards Lichtenstein, which he knew would gratify the wishes
of the lady who had entrusted him with her message of love. He was
fully aware of the possibility there was of falling in with the
patroles of the League, which were scattered over the country; but he
had, at the same time, sufficient confidence in his knowledge of the
unfrequented paths among the mountains, to be able to escape their
vigilance.
"I have given the League my word, not to serve against it for fourteen
days; how can I remain, therefore, in Wuertemberg?"
"Do you call that fighting for Wuertemberg, if you only travel peaceably
on the roads? In fourteen days, did you say? Do they think the war will
be over in fourteen days? Many a head will be broken against the walls
of Tuebingen long after that time. Come with me; it is not against your
oath."
"And what shall I do in Wuertemberg?" cried Albert: "shall I go and see
my old companions in arms reaping glory under the walls of the
fortresses? shall I go and meet the colours of the League again, to
which I have bid an eternal farewell? No; I will return to my home in
Franconia, and bury myself among its walls, and dream how happy I might
have been."
"That is a fine determination for a young man of your spirit and
determination? Have you no other interest in Wuertemberg than to wish to
storm the tottering castles of the Duke? Well, go, in God's name!"
continued the countryman, looking at Albert with a cunning smile; "but
just try for once whether the ancient castle of Lichtenstein may not be
taken by storm?"
The young man blushed deeply; and said, half angrily, half smiling, "I
don't like your joke."
"I had no intention to joke with my young master," answered his
companion; "I am serious when I wish to persuade you to go there."
"And what to do?"
"Why, to win over the old gentleman, to be sure, and dry the tears of
the young lady, who weeps day and night on your account."
"But how can I go to Lichtenstein? Bertha's father does not know me;
how shall I make his acquaintance?"
"Are you the first knight who has ever demanded free quarters in a
castle, according to the custom of our forefathers? If you will leave
that to me, I will promise to satisfy your scruples."
The young man pondered over his friend's proposal for some time; he
carefully weighed all the reasons for and against it; he considered
whether it was not against his honour, to be in the neighbourhood where
the war would in all probability be carried on, instead of retiring
from the theatre of it. But when he reflected upon the mild manner in
which the commanders of the League had received his retreat from their
cause, and the easy conditions which they had laid on him; but above
all, when he called to his memory the unhappy position of his beloved
Bertha, his inclination to proceed to Wuertemberg turned the scale.
"I will see and speak with her once more," thought he to
himself.----"Well, then," he called to the countryman, "if you will
promise never to say a word to me about joining the Wuertemberg cause,
and assure me that I shall not be looked upon as a partizan of your
Duke, but merely a guest of Lichtenstein, I will follow you."
"As far as lies in me, I can safely promise you," said his companion;
"but it is impossible for me to answer for what the knight of
Lichtenstein might propose. He is the Duke's warmest friend, and it is
not unlikely he may endeavour to persuade you to join his cause."
"I already know the terms you are upon with him, that you often visited
him in Ulm, and brought him secret intelligence of all kinds. He has
confidence in you, and therefore I wish to put you on your guard, not
to acquaint him with the state of my affairs; for I have my reasons to
keep them as yet unknown to him."
The fifer of Hardt eyed the young man some time with a look of
astonishment. "Where did you learn that I had been the bearer of secret
intelligence to the knight of Lichtenstein? But it signifies little to
me what my persecutors may have told you. I have a debt to pay, and
until it is fully discharged, I call not my life my own. My death, I
hope, will absolve me from my creditor." With these portending words,
he promised to follow Albert's wishes to the letter, and added, "Now
mount your horse, whilst I lead on, and you shall be welcome in the
castle of Lichtenstein."