"It is a long time to wait," said Albert; "and really I cannot drive

his image out of my head. If you will not tell me, I'll ask the dog;

perhaps he will be kinder than you."

"Well, try him," said Bertha, laughing; "if he can speak, I'll allow

him to satisfy your curiosity."

"Hearken, you enormous beast," said Albert, turning to the dog, who

looked at him attentively; "tell me, what is your master's name?"

The dog raised himself proudly up, opened his broad jaws, and roared

out, in terrifying tones, "U--U--U!"

Bertha coloured: "Let's have no more of this nonsense," she said, and

called the dog to her; "who would talk to a dog when in Christian

society?"

Albert appeared not to heed her remark. "He said 'U,' good dog; I'll

wager he has been trained to it! It is not the first time he has been

asked what his master's name was?"

Scarcely had he pronounced the last words than the dog repeated his

U--U--U! in a still harsher tone. Bertha coloured again, she made

it come and lay down at her feet, scolding him in displeasure.

"Well, we have it now," said Albert, in triumph; "his master's name is

U!" He recollected that the curious word on the ring which the exile

had given him began with an U. It is extraordinary, thought he. "Is

your master's name, perhaps, Uffenheim? or Uxhuell? or Ulm? or, by the

bye,----"

"Nonsense! the dog has no other note than U. How can you plague

yourself in trying to find out a meaning to it? But here comes my

father. If you wish to conceal our love from him, do not commit

yourself. I'll leave you now, as it would not be right to be found

together."

Albert promised to be discreet, and once more embraced Bertha, an

indulgence which was likely to be the last for some time, should the

presence of her father render it impossible to see her again alone. The

dog appeared to watch the movements of the loving couple with

astonishment, as if he were really gifted with human sense. The first

sound of the horse's feet on the drawbridge was the signal for

separation, when Bertha left the room accompanied by the faithful

animal.

CHAPTER XXIII.

The Duke, so sad, can find no rest,

And dark reflections fill his breast;

"How far, alas! from me removed,

How much is sunk, the land I loved."

G. SCHWAB.

Good Friday and Easter Sunday passed away, and Albert von Sturmfeder

still remained at Lichtenstein. The knight of the castle had invited

him to continue his visit until the war should take some decided turn,

which would afford him an opportunity to render the Duke important

service. We may well suppose how willingly the young man accepted the

invitation.

To be under the same roof with his beloved, always near her,

occasionally to pass a few moments with her alone, and to be loved of

her father, were privileges his fondest dreams had never anticipated.

One circumstance only clouded these delights, and that was, a certain

gloomy anxiety of expression which at times hung about the brow of

Bertha's father. It appeared that he was not satisfied with the news

which he received from the Duke and the theatre of war. Messengers came

to the castle at different times of day, but they arrived and departed

without the knight imparting to his guest the contents of their

despatches. Sometimes Albert thought he even saw the fifer of Hardt in

the dusk of the evening gliding across the bridge. Hoping to get some

information from him, he once hurried down to meet him; but by the time

he reached the bridge, no trace of him was to be found.

Feeling somewhat hurt by being left in total ignorance of the state of

affairs, which he conceived he had a right to be informed of, after the

decided part he had taken, he could not help saying to Bertha, "I have

tendered my services unreservedly to the Duke's friends, in spite of

their cause not being very prosperous. The man in the cavern and the

knight of Lichtenstein have both shewn me much friendship and

confidence, but only up to a certain point. Why should I not know what

is going on at Tuebingen? Why should I not be made acquainted with the

Duke's operations? Am I only kept here as a forlorn hope? Why do they

disdain my advice?"

Bertha endeavoured to console him, and succeeded at times by mild

persuasion to drive such thoughts from his mind; but there were moments

when they returned with double force, and particularly when he saw her

father absorbed in the consideration of the state of affairs.

At length, on the evening of Easter day, he could contain himself no

longer, and put a direct question to the old knight, asking him if

their affairs were in danger, what was the state of the Duke's plans,

and whether his services would not be called into action soon? But his

patron, taking him kindly by the hand, answered, "I have long remarked,

that your heart is ready to burst with impatience in consequence of

your being denied a share in our labours and cares; but only have a

little more patience; perhaps one day longer may decide many important

subjects. What is the use of tormenting you with the uncertain

intelligence which our messengers have lately brought? Your ardent

young mind is not fitted to unmask intrigue, or to counteract artifice.

When the crisis approaches upon which we can base our plans with

safety, believe me you shall be a welcome member in council and action.

All you need know at present is, that our circumstances are neither

good nor bad, but that we shall soon be obliged to act with increased

decision."

Albert gave the old man due credit for his reserve, but still he was

anything but satisfied with his answer. He could not even learn the

name of the exile, of whom Bertha had inquired the night preceding,

when he came to the castle as usual, if he would allow her to make him

known to their guest, but the only answer he gave was, "The proper

moment is not yet arrived."

There was still another circumstance which offended Albert's _amour

propre_. He had often made known to the knight of Lichtenstein the

intense interest he took in the welfare of the exile, and what

heartfelt pleasure it would give him to cultivate his further

acquaintance; nevertheless, he had never once been invited to join the

nocturnal visit of the mysterious guest. He was too proud to press the

subject; he waited night after night in the expectation of being called

in to speak to the man, but he waited in vain. He resolved therefore to

see the stranger some night without an invitation, and for this purpose

he sought a fitting opportunity. His room, which he was obliged to

enter every night regularly at eight o'clock, overlooked the valley

below, and was situated immediately opposite to the side on which the

bridge was placed. It was therefore out of the question to see him

coming from this position. The large room on the second floor, which

was not far from his own, was locked every night, and consequently

debarred him from satisfying his curiosity from thence. On the landing

place, to which the doors of the different rooms led, there were indeed

two windows looking towards the bridge, but as they were grated and

stood high, the view from them was confined to the distant country, and

there was no possibility of obtaining a sight of the desired spot.

Nothing was left for him, therefore, than to conceal himself somewhere

in order to gratify his curiosity. On the first floor the plan was

impossible, because the many people living there would subject him to

discovery. But when he examined the gateway and the stables, which were

hewn out of the solid rock, he discovered a niche near the drawbridge,

concealed behind the wings of the gate, which were only shut when an

enemy was before the castle. This was the spot which appeared best

suited to secure him from discovery, and which afforded room enough to

enable him to observe what was going on. On the left of the niche the

drawbridge joined on to the gate, the stairs which led up to the

dwelling rooms were on the right, in front was the entrance passage,

which every one must pass who came into the castle. Albert determined

to slip into this position on the coming night.

At eight o'clock a page brought him his night lamp, and led him, as

usual, to his apartment. The lord of the castle and his daughter kindly

wished him good night. He entered his room, and dismissing his servant,

who generally assisted him to undress, threw himself on his bed in his

clothes. He listened attentively to each hour of the clock as it struck

in the village, and whose sounds were wafted towards him by the

night-breeze. He often closed his eyes, and at times fell into that

state when it requires painful exertion to combat the power of sleep.

His present object was sufficiently important to keep him on the alert,

and prevent him losing the opportunity of satisfying his curiosity. Ten

o'clock had long struck; all was as still as death in the castle. He

jumped up, took off his heavy boots and spurs, threw his cloak over

him, and cautiously opened the door of his room. He held his breath,

fearing to make the least noise; the hinges of the door creaked--he

stopped to listen whether any one had heard the treacherous sound.

Every thing remained quiet; the moon threw a dim light on the landing

place, and Albert thought himself fortunate she had not betrayed him a

second time. He glided softly towards the winding stairs, and stopped

again to listen if all was quiet; he heard nothing but the whistling of

the wind, and the rustling of the oak trees on the further side of the

bridge. He stepped carefully down the stairs. The least noise sounds

louder in the depth and quiet of night than at other times; attention

is awakened at the slightest movement, which would not be noticed in

the day time. If his foot stepped upon a grain of sand, its grating

sound went up the winding stairs, and startled him into the supposition

that the whole house was on the alert. Having arrived at the first

floor, he listened again, and heard nothing but the faint cracking of

the dying embers on the hearth of the kitchen. At last he got to his

destination, an expedition upon which he had expended a whole quarter

of an hour's time, which otherwise was an affair but of a moment. He

placed himself in the niche, and drew the wing of the gate closer to

him, so that it fully covered his position. A fissure in the door was

large enough to enable him to see distinctly every thing that passed.

Nothing appeared to move in the castle, though he thought he heard

light footsteps above him, which he supposed might be those of Bertha.

After waiting a tedious long quarter of an hour, the village clock

struck eleven. This being the appointed time of the nocturnal visit,

Albert directed all his attention to hear the stranger's approach. A

few minutes after he heard the dog bark, when at the same time

a deep voice from the other side of the ditch hailed, and said,

"Lichtenstein!"

"Who comes there?" was answered from the castle.

"The man is there," replied the other voice, which sounded familiar to

his ear as being the one he had heard in the cavern.

The watchman, an old man, came forth from a casemate hewn out of the

rock, and opened the lock of the drawbridge with a large curiously

wrought key. Whilst he was thus employed the dog came bounding down the

stairs, whining and wagging his tail, and jumped upon the old man, as

if to assist him in letting fall the bridge for his master to enter.

Bertha shortly after descended with a lantern, and assisted him with

her light, for it appeared he had some difficulty in opening the lock.

"Make haste, Balthaser," she whispered to the old watchman, "he has

been waiting some time, it is cold outside, and the wind blows keen."

"I have now only to unfasten the chain, worthy lady," he answered; "you

shall soon see how well my bridge falls. I have oiled the hinges, as

you ordered me, so that they do not creek any more, and disturb Mrs.

Rosel out of her slumbers."

The chains rattled in their ascent, the bridge sunk gradually into its

place, and the banished man, enveloped in his coarse cloak, came

across. Though his bearing was deeply engraven on Albert's mind, yet

his strikingly bold features, his commanding eye, his open forehead,

and the agile movements of his limbs, filled the young man anew with

admiration.

The nocturnal guest assisted Balthaser, the doorkeeper, to draw up the

bridge, with a power which appeared almost superhuman. When the old man

had withdrawn to his sleeping place, Albert overheard the following

conversation between the visitor and Bertha.

"Is there any news from Tuebingen? Has Maxx Stumpf returned? I read bad

news in your countenance."

"No, sir, he has not yet returned," she replied; "my father expected

him this very night."

"Oh, that the devil would give him heels! I must remain here till he

comes, if it be for a whole day. Ha! a cold night, lady," said the

exile; "the screech owls will be frozen in the cavern, for I left them

crying in most pitiable tones."

"Yes, it is indeed cold," she answered; "I would not go down there,

upon any account; and how dreadful must it be to hear those cries; I

shudder to think of it."

"If young Albert accompanied you, you would have no objections to go,"

answered the other smiling, and chucking the blushing girl under the

chin; "is it not so? You would not hesitate to follow him there, much

as you appear to dread it now."

"Ah! sir," she replied, "how can you talk in that way? Do you know,

I'll not come down again to let you in if you take such liberties."

"Well, but I merely spoke in jest," said the knight, and gently pinched

her glowing cheek; "you know how little opportunity I have in my

dwelling to enjoy a joke. What will you give me to say a good word to

your father, to induce him to make the youth your husband? You are

aware the old gentleman does every thing I ask him; and if I recommend

a son-in-law to him, he would accept him at all hazards."

Bertha opened wide her beautiful eyes, and cast a grateful look at him.

"Dear sir," she answered, "I will not forbid your saying a kind word

for Albert, particularly as my father is well inclined towards him."

"But I shall expect some reward for my trouble. Everything has its

price; so what will you give?"

Bertha cast her eyes to the ground. "A heartfelt thank-ye," she

replied; "but come, sir, my father has been waiting for us a long

time."

She was in the act of leading on, when the knight, taking her by the

hand, detained her. Albert's heart beat so hard as almost to be heard;

he broke out into a violent heat, and then became ice-cold; he laid

hold of the handle of the door, and was on the point of sallying forth

to forbid the promise of a fixed price being given upon any pretext.

"Why are you in such haste?" he heard the man of the cavern say. "Well,

for one kiss only, and I will persuade your father to send for the

priest on the spot, to perform the holy ceremony." He bent his head

towards the offended, blushing girl. Albert saw every thing swimming

before his eyes, and was again on the point of bursting from his place

of concealment, but the determined reply of his lady love checked him

from taking the rash step. She beheld the man with a forbidding look.

"It is impossible your Grace can be in earnest," she said; "otherwise

you now see me for the last time."

"If you knew how much this scornful air becomes you," he answered, with

unaltered kindness, "you would never cease to be in anger. At any rate

I admire your fidelity; for when the heart is deeply engaged with one

object, none other need hope for such a favour. But on your marriage

day I will demand the favour, with the permission of your bridegroom,

and then we'll see who is right."

"That you may do," said Bertha, smiling, whilst she withdrew her hand

from his, and led the way with the light in her hand; "but you had

better prepare yourself for a refusal, for he is not fond of trifling

on this point."

"He is uncommonly jealous," replied the knight, as they proceeded up

stairs. "I could tell you something upon that subject, which took place

between him and me; but I promised silence----"

The sound of their voices died away gradually, and at last became

indistinct to Albert's ear. He breathed freely again. He listened and

remained in his position until he satisfied himself thoroughly that no

one was on the stairs or in the passages, and, taking advantage of the

opportunity, slipped up into his own room much quicker than he had

descended from it. The last words of Bertha and the exile still

resounded in his ears. He blushed to think of his unfounded jealousy,

which had again tormented him this night. Bertha had, unknown to

herself, given him evident proofs of the purity of her heart and

faithful attachment to him; and it was only when he laid his head on

his pillow and fell to sleep, that his mind was eased of the pain of

having unjustly suspected her.

When he left his room the next morning at seven o'clock, the hour which

the family generally assembled at breakfast, Bertha met him on the

landing place with the appearance of having been weeping. She took him

on one side, and whispered, "Tread softly, Albert; the knight of the

cavern is still with us; he has been asleep about an hour; we must not

disturb him."

"The exile!" asked Albert in astonishment, "does he dare remain here

during the day? what has happened? is he unwell?"

"No!" answered Bertha, whilst a fresh tear hung on her eyelid, "no! he

expects a messenger from Tuebingen about this time, and is determined to

await him. We begged and prayed him to depart before daybreak, but he

would not listen to our warning, so firm is his resolution to remain at

all hazards."

"But could not the messenger have gone to him in the cavern?" said

Albert; "he runs too great a risk unnecessarily."

"Ah! you don't know him; it is his bane when he once gets a thing into

his head to be obstinately immoveable; and then he is so distrustful of

others, even of his best friends. It was quite impossible for us to

persuade him to leave the castle this morning, because he might have

thought, perhaps, we wished to get rid of him for our own safety. His

principal reason for remaining is, I believe, to consult with my

father, when the messenger arrives."

During this conversation they remained stationary on the landing place,

but Bertha now opened the door of her father's apartment as gently as

possible, and they entered together.

This room, or what would be called in a modern establishment the

gentlemen's room, was distinguished from the saloon on the second floor

from being somewhat smaller. It had a view of the surrounding country

on three sides, through small round windows, now pierced by the sun's

morning rays. The ceiling and walls were wainscoted with dark brown

wood, fancifully inlaid with other coloured woods. A few portraits of

the ancestors of Lichtenstein graced the side of the wall opposite to

the windows, and the tables and furniture shewed that the present

occupier of the castle was a friend of old customs and times, and that

his property would descend to his daughter in the same unaltered state

it had been left by his great-grandfather.

The old knight was seated at a large table in the middle of the room

when they entered. Supporting his long-bearded chin in his hand, he sat

gloomy and motionless, with his eyes fixed on a large goblet which

stood before him. It was not quite evident to Albert whether he had

been sitting up all night over his glass, or whether he was taking a

draught at this early hour of the morning to recruit his strength and

spirits.

He saluted the young man as he approached the table by a slight

inclination of the head, whilst a scarcely visible smile played about

his mouth. He pointed to a goblet on the table and a stool by his side.

Bertha understanding the hint, filled it with wine, and presented it to

her lover, with that grace which marked every thing she did. Albert

seated himself beside the old man, and drank.

The latter drew his chair near to him, and said in a low tone of voice,

"I fear our affairs are in a bad way!"

"Have you had any intelligence?" asked Albert, in the same low tone.

"A peasant told me this morning, that Tuebingen had treated with the

League last evening."

"Good heavens!" said Albert, involuntarily.

"Keep quiet, and do not wake him! he will learn it soon enough,"

replied the old man, pointing to the other side of the room.

The young man looked that way. At one of the side windows, looking

towards the deep ravine, sat the exile asleep; his arm, resting on the

ledge of the window, supported his careworn brow. His grey cloak had

partly fallen off his shoulder, and discovered a worn-out leather

jerkin, in which his powerful frame was encased. His curly hair hung

down over his temples in disorder, and a few tufts of his smooth beard

were visible from under his hand. The large dog lay at his feet, his

head resting on his master's foot, looking up at him with faithful eyes

and watching every motion of his features.

"He sleeps," said the old man, and repressed a starting tear. "He

breathes light; oh! that his dreams may be comforting. The reality of

life to him is melancholy indeed! Who can help wishing he may remain

unconscious of it awhile?"

"His is a hard fate!" replied Albert, casting his eye at the sleeping

man. "Driven from house and home--an outcast--a price offered to any

villain who chooses to level his gun at him--under the earth by day,

and by night wandering about like a thief! Truly, it is hard; and all

this because he is faithful to his lord!"

"That man has suffered much in his lifetime," said Lichtenstein, with a

serious look. "I have known him from the days of his childhood, and I

can vouch for his having always wished to do what is right and just.

The means indeed he applied to attain his object were at times not

fitted to further his purpose; on other occasions his intentions were

misunderstood, and he too often allowed himself to be carried away by

the violence of passion--but where lives the man of which this might

not be said? Truly, he has wofully repented himself." He stopt short,

fearing he had said more than he ought before Albert, who asked in vain

to hear something further of his character. The old man sank into

silence and deep thought.

The sun having risen over the mountains and dispersed the mist which

hung about the vallies, invited Albert to the window to enjoy the

splendid view. A lovely valley, surrounded by wooded heights, with

three smiling villages scattered over its surface, and a rapid stream

running through it, lay at the foot of the rock of Lichtenstein. It was

like beholding the earth from a point in the heavens. Leaving the

valley and looking to the wooded heights, his eye rested with delight

upon picturesque groups of rocks and the mountain of the Alb, behind

which rises the castle of Achalm, and forms the boundary of the

immediate surrounding country. Beyond the walls of Achalm, the distant

hills were visible to the right and left. The rock of Lichtenstein,

reaching, as it were, into the clouds, commands an extensive view of

Wuertemberg, free and unbroken, into the far lowland. The morning sun

throwing its oblique rays across the landscape, Albert was transported

with the beauty of its scenery.

The fertile fields spread before him, surrounded by the wooded hills,

he compared to variegated carpets, edged, as it were, with borders of

dark green and brown, deriving their different shades and colours from

the tints thrown over them by the dawning day. And then turning to the

country between Lichtenstein and the distant Asperg, he exclaimed,

"What charms for the lover of the picturesque! No continuous

uninterrupted plain to weary the beholder, the eye ranges from hill to

mountain in pleasing variety, and rests on the luxuriant valley, with

its meandering stream gently rippling along in its course."

Albert stood wrapt in delight. He strained his eyes more and more to

see and distinguish each castle and village in the far distance. Bertha

stood beside him, and though she had enjoyed the same view from her

childhood, she now shared his pleasure; she pointed out every place,

and named all the different towers to him. "Where is there another spot

in all Germany which can be compared to this!" said Albert; "I have

seen vast plains, and mounted heights which command perhaps a more

extended view, but such a rich combination of the picturesque and the

sublime it would be difficult to find elsewhere. Look at the rich corn

fields, the woods of fruit trees, and a little lower down there, where

the hill assumes a blueish tinge, that garden of vines! I have never

yet envied a prince; but to stand here, and look over those hills, and

say this is mine, would be the height of my ambition!"

A deep sigh close to them, started the young couple from their

observations. They turned round, and perceived the exile standing at

the window a few paces from them. He appeared to view the country with

a wild look, which made Albert uncertain whether the conversation he

had just had with Bertha, or the thought of his own forlorn state, had

troubled his mind.

He saluted the young man, and offered him his hand, and turning to the

lord of the castle, asked him, "If a messenger had arrived?"

"Schweinsberg is not yet returned," he answered.

The exile retired again to the window in silence. Bertha filled him a

goblet of wine. "Be of good courage," she said, "and don't look in so

disconsolate a manner over the country. Drink this wine, it is good old

Wuertemberger, and grows under that blue mountain."

"We cannot remain long melancholy," he answered, and turned to Albert

with a forced smile, "when the sun shines so cheerfully over

Wuertemberg, and Heaven's mildness beams in the eye of one of her

fairest maidens? Is it not so, young man? what is the sight of these

hills and vallies, compared to the gleam of such eyes and the fidelity

of true hearts? take your glass, and let us drink to them! Nothing is

irrevocably lost so long as we possess such treasures: here's to 'Good

Wuertemberg for ever!'"

"Good Wuertemberg for ever," replied Albert, and touched glasses. The

exile was going to say something more, when the old watchman entered

with a face full of importance. "There are two pedlars before the

castle, and demand admittance," he announced.

"It's them! it's them!" cried the exile and old Lichtenstein in the

same breath, and added, "shew them up."

The servant withdrew. An anxious moment followed the announcement. No

one said a word. The knight of Lichtenstein looked as if he could

pierce the door with the eye of impatience. The exile endeavoured to

conceal his anxiety, but the rapid changes on his expressive features

indicated clearly that his whole being was in a state of excitement. At

length footsteps were heard on the stairs approaching the apartment.

The exile, strong as he was, trembled so much that he was obliged to

hold by the table, his body was bent forward, his eye was fixed on the

door, as if he would read his fate on the countenance of the

messengers--the door opened and they entered.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Deserted as thou art, by all forsaken,

Thy fortunes ruin'd and thy power gone,

Thou still shalt find fidelity unshaken,

Although you find it in myself alone.

Thy humble vassal, 'till the hour of death,

I'll hail my sovereign with my latest breath.

L. UHLAND.

Albert's expectation was also raised to the highest pitch. His eye

examined the two men as they entered, and he at once recognised the

fifer of Hardt as one, and the pedlar he had met at the Golden Stag of

Pfullingen as the other. The latter disburthened himself of a pack

which he carried on his back, tore a plaister from his eye, erected

himself from a bent position, which he had assumed for the purpose of

disguise, and stood before the assembled group, the short-set,

strong-built man, with open bold features, which the exile had already

described in the cavern.

"Maxx Stumpf!" cried the exile in a trembling tone of voice, "what

means that gloomy countenance? You bring us good news, don't you? they

will open the gates to us, and with us hold out to the last man?"

Maxx Stumpf von Schweinsberg looked about him in confusion. "Prepare

for the worst, sir!" he said, "the intelligence I bring you is not

good."

"How?" answered the other, whilst the blush of rage flew into his

cheeks, and the veins of his forehead began to swell, "how, do you mean

they hesitate, they waver? It is impossible! be not precipitate in what

you say, recollect it is of the nobles of the land of whom you speak."

"And still I will say it," Schweinsberg answered, making a step

forward. "In the face of the Emperor and the Empire, I will say they

are traitors."

"Thou liest!" cried the exile with a terrible voice. "Traitors, did you

say? Thou liest! Dost thou dare to rob forty knights of their honour?

Ha! own it, that you lie."

"Would to God I were a knight without honour--a dog that betrays his

master! But the whole forty have broken their oaths--you have lost your

country. My Lord Duke, Tuebingen is gone!"

The man, whom these words more immediately concerned, sank in a chair

at the window: he covered his face with his hands, his agitated breast

appeared to seek in vain for breath, his whole frame trembled.

The eyes of all were directed to him, expressive of commiseration and

pain, particularly Albert's, who now for the first time learnt the name

of "the man"--it was him, Duke Ulerich of Wuertemberg! Recollections of

the first moment he had met him, of his first visit to the cavern, of

the conversation they had had, and the way which his whole bearing had

surprised him and bound him to his cause, crossed his mind in _one_

rapid flight. It was quite incomprehensible to him, that he had not

long ago made the discovery.

No one dared to break the silence for some time. The heavy breathing of

the Duke only was heard, and his faithful dog, who appeared to partake

of his master's misery, added his pitiable whining to the distressing

scene. Old Lichtenstein at length giving a sign to the knight of

Schweinsberg, they both approached the Duke, and touched his cloak, in

order to rouse him, but he remained immoveable and silent. Bertha had

stood aloof, with tears in her eyes. She now drew near with hesitating

step, put her hand on his shoulder, and, beholding him with a look of

tender compassion, at last took courage to say, "My Lord Duke! it is

still good Wuertemberg for ever!"

A deep sigh escaping from his breast, was the only notice he took of

the kind girl's solicitude. Albert then approached him. The expression

which the exile had made use of, when they first met, flashed across

his mind, and he ventured to address the same words now to his

afflicted friend. "Man without a name," said he, "why so downhearted?

Si fractus illabatur orbis, impavidum ferient ruinae!"[1]

These words acted like a charm upon Ulerich. Whether he had adopted

them as his motto, or whether it was that combination of greatness of

soul, and obstinate contempt of misfortune, which formed his character,

and acquired for him the name of the "Undaunted," he was reanimated, as

if by an electric spark, when he heard them repeated, and from that

moment rose worthy of his name.

"Those are the true words, my young friend," he said at length with a

firm voice, proudly raising his head, his eyes sparkling with their

usual animation, "those are the words. I thank you for bringing them to

my mind. Stand forward, Maxx Stumpf, knight of Schweinsberg, relate the

result of your mission. But first of all, give me another glass,

Bertha!"

"It was last Thursday, when I left you," began the knight: "Hans

disguised me in this garb, and instructed me how to comport myself. I

went to the Golden Stag at Pfullingen, just to try if any one would

recognise me in it, but the hostess brought me a can of wine with all

the indifference she would have done to a perfect stranger she had

never seen before. And a city counsellor, with whom I had exchanged

angry words not a week before in the same room, drank with me,

supposing I had followed the vocation of pedlar from my childhood. That

young man," pointing to Albert, "was also in the room."

The Duke appeared to recover his spirits, and was more cheerful. He

asked Albert whether he had noticed the knight in his garb of pedlar,

and whether he looked the character?

He replied, smiling, "I think he played his part to perfection."

"From Pfullingen I went the same evening to Reutlingen. I entered the

public room of an inn, where I met a tribe of Leaguists, consisting of

citizens, from all parts, who were exulting with the Reutlingeners, for

having torn down the stag horns, the emblems of your house, from their

city gates. Though they abused you and sang burlesque songs at your

expense, still they appeared to fear your name. On Good Friday I

proceeded towards Tuebingen. My heart beat high when I descended through

the wood near the castle, and saw the beautiful valley of the Neckar

before me, with the fortified towers and steeples of that place peering

above the hill."

The Duke compressed his lips, turned away, and looked at the distant

country. Schweinsberg paused, sympathising in his master's pain, who

beckoned to him, however, to proceed.

"Descending into the plain, I wandered onward towards Tuebingen. The

town had been already occupied by the League some days, the castle

still held out, and only a few troops remained in the camp, which was

pitched on the hill overlooking the valley of Ammer. I determined to

slip into the town, for the purpose of finding out how affairs stood in

the castle. You know the little inn in the upper town, not far from the

church of St. George? I went there, and called for wine. On my way I

learned that the knights of the League often assembled in the same

house, and therefore I considered it the best place to attain my

object."

"You risked a good deal," interrupted the knight of Lichtenstein: "it

was very possible some one might have wished to buy some of your wares,

and then the pedlar in disguise would have been discovered."

"You forget it was a holiday," replied the other, "so that I had a good

excuse not to open my pack, and recommend my goods for sale, according

to the custom of pedlars. But I had sufficient proof of the security of

my disguise, for I sold a box of healing plaster to George von

Fronsberg, God knows, I would gladly have come to blows with him, and

given him an opportunity on the spot to make use of it. They were still

at high mass in the church, and no one in the inn; but I learned from

the master of the house, that the knights in the castle had agreed to a

truce till Easter Monday. When church service was over, many knights

and other men came, as I expected, into the room where I was, for their

morning's potation. I seated myself in a corner on the bench near the

stove, the proper place for people of my condition in the presence of

their superiors."

"Who did you see there?" inquired the Duke.

"I knew some of them by sight, and guessed who others were from their

conversation. There was Fronsberg, Alban von Closen, the Huttens,

Sickingen, and many others. Truchses von Waldburg came in shortly

after. When I saw him enter, I drew my cap deep over my face, for he

cannot have forgotten the whirl I gave him from his horse some fifteen

years ago by a thrust of my lance."

"Did you see Hans von Breitenstein among the rest?" asked Albert.

"Breitenstein?--not that I know; ah! yes, that's his name who will eat

a leg of mutton at a sitting. Well, they began to talk of the siege and

the truce, and some of them whispered to each other, but as I have very

good ears, I heard just what of all things was most essential to know.

Truchses related that he shot an arrow into the castle, with a note

attached to it, addressed to Ludwig von Stadion. It appears that he

must often have practised the same device, for the knights were not

astonished, when he added, that he had received an answer the same day

by similar means."

The Duke's countenance became clouded. "Ludwig von Stadion!" he cried

in agony; "I would have staked castles upon his fidelity! I loved him

so, that I satisfied all his desires, and he is the first to betray

me!"

"The answer said, that he, Stadion, with many others, being tired of

the contest, were more than half inclined to surrender; George von

Hewen, however, threatened to denounce them as traitors."

"I have not merited such friendship from Hewen," said Ulerich. "I was

once offended with him, for having complained that I had not acted

according to his wishes. But how easily are we deceived in the

characters of men! Had any one asked me which of these two I had most

faith in, I would have named Stadion as my trusty friend, and George

von Hewen the doubtful one."

Schweinsberg continued. "The answer also said, that your Grace would

probably attempt to relieve the castle; but if that were impossible,

you would repair to it in person by some secret way. The Leaguists

spoke much upon that subject. They all, however, agreed that it was

essential to bring the garrison to terms without delay, before you

brought relief, or got into the castle; for if you succeeded in the

latter case, they feared the siege might last much longer. After

hearing all this, I did not think it advisable to proceed immediately

to the castle by the secret path, known only to a few, and shew myself

to the garrison, because if Stadion had already gained the upper hand,

I should have been lost. I resolved, therefore, to remain the day in

the town; and if before Saturday morning I heard nothing to alarm me

respecting the spirit of the garrison, then to proceed to my

destination, and send your Grace immediate intelligence. I wandered

about the town and the camp unmolested until noon, seeking as much as

possible always to be near some of the superior officers to assure

myself of my disguise."

"That was on the Friday, the holiday?" Lichtenstein asked.

"Yes; on holy Friday. At three o'clock in the afternoon, George von

Fronsberg, with many other of the principal officers, rode to the city

gate of the castle; and hailed the besieged, inquiring whether they

were building a fortification. I was standing among them; and saw

Stadion come on the wall, and answer, 'No, that were against the terms

of the truce; but I see,' he added, 'you are erecting a fort in the

field.' George von Fronsberg cried, 'If it is so, it is without my

orders. Who are you?' He in the castle answered, 'I am Ludwig von

Stadion;' upon which the Leaguists smiled, and stroked their beards.

Having satisfied the besieged, by overturning a few baskets filled with

earth, which had been placed in the entrenchments to screen their

works, that he had no knowledge of its having been done, Fronsberg then

called to Stadion, and invited him, with other of his party, to come

down and drink together."

"Did they go?" cried the Duke, impatiently, "and forget their honour?"

"There is an open space on the castle hill beyond the ditch, whence the

spectator, having a distant view of the country, can survey the valley

of the Neckar, the Steinlach on the height above, the Alb in the

distance, with many castles and villages, which complete the scenery.

On this spot they placed a table and benches; and the commanders of the

League sat down to drink. The gate of Upper Tuebingen was then opened,

the bridge fell over the ditch; when Ludwig von Stadion, with six

others, came forth, bringing with them your Grace's silver covered

jugs, golden goblets, and best wine; and having saluted your enemies

with a shake of the hand, seated themselves to talk over the state of

affairs over a cool tankard."

"May the devil bless them all!" interrupted the old knight of

Lichtenstein, and threw his wine away; but the Duke smiled, and nodded

to Maxx Stumpf to proceed.

"They caroused together till after dusk; and staggered about with

heated heads. I kept near them, so that not one of their traitorous

words escaped my ears. When they broke up, Trachses took Stadion by the

band, 'Brother,' said he, 'you have good wine in your cellar; let us in

soon, that we may help you to drink it out.' The other laughed, shook

him by the hand, and said, 'Time will teach us what to do.' When I saw

how affairs stood, I determined, with God's help, at the risk of my

life, to get into the castle: I therefore left them, and went to the

spot where the secret subterranean way commences. Having succeeded in

entering it unnoticed, and reached the middle, I found the portcullis

down, with a sentry placed there. He levelled his gun at me, when he

heard me coming in the dark, and demanded the parole. I gave, as you

desired me, 'Atempto,' the watch-word of your brave ancestor, Eberhard

with the beard. The fellow opened his eyes wide, drew up the

portcullis, and let me pass. With rapid steps I reached a vault, where

I was obliged to remain a few moments to take a breath of fresh air,

for the narrow passage is close and damp."

"Faithful Maxx! clear your throat with a draught of wine," said

Ulerich; the knight followed his advice, and continued his story with

renewed vigour.

"I heard the sound of many voices in the vault, apparently in

contention, and following its direction, I saw a number of the garrison

sitting round a large cask drinking. There were some of Stadion's

party, with Hewen, and many of his friends. The light of a lamp

illumined their position, and the large goblets which were placed

before them. It was an imposing scene, and put me in mind of a sitting

of the secret tribunal. Having concealed myself behind a cask, I

listened to their conversation. George von Hewen spoke stirring words,

and represented to them the crime of their infidelity; he said there

was no reason why they should surrender; that they were well provided

with provisions for a long siege; that your Grace was assembling an

army for their relief; and that the besiegers were worse off than

themselves."

"Ha! brave Hewen! and what gave they for answer?" said the Duke.

"They only laughed and drank. 'It will be long before he can get an

army together. Where will he find money, unless he plunders?' said one

of the party. Hewen continued: 'But if the Duke cannot succeed so soon

as he expected, we are nevertheless bound by our oath to hold to the

last, or else be held as traitors to our lord and master.' They laughed

and drank again, saying, 'Who dares come forward and call us traitors?'

I then called out from behind my cask, 'I will! You are traitors--false

to your oaths, to the Duke, and your country!' They were terrified and

thunder-struck; Stadion let fall his goblet; when, stepping forward,

having first taken off my disguise, I stood before them, and drew your

letter from under my jerkin: here is a writing from your Duke, said I;

he commands you at your peril to surrender; he is coming himself to

conquer or die under the walls."

"Oh, Tuebingen!" said the Duke, with a sigh, "fool that I was to leave

you in such hands. I would give two of my left fingers for your sake!

what did I say, two fingers? I would willingly lose my right hand could

I purchase you with the sacrifice, and with my left lead the way to the

heart of my enemies. And what was the answer to my words--did they not

give any?"

"The false ones eyed me with sullen looks, and appeared not to know

what to do. Hewen, however, repeated his warning to them. Stadion at

last said, You come too late. Twenty-eight knights have determined to

withdraw from the contest, and leave the Duke to settle his affairs

alone with the League. If he returns to the country with an army they

will faithfully stand by him, but they cannot continue to carry on the

war any longer in a state of uncertainty as to the result, seeing that

their opposition to the League has only subjected their houses and

estates to damage and heavy contributions. I then requested to be led

to the hall of the knights, where I would try to discover whether there

were not still left honourable men sufficient to defend the castle. I

reckoned upon the fidelity of the two Berlichingens, and many others,

whose names are familiar to your Grace, as having sworn allegiance to

your colours. But Hewen shook his head, and said I was mistaken in most

of them."

"But Stammheim, Thierberg, Westerstetten, in whose faith I would have

staked my existence--did you see them?" asked the Duke.

"Oh, yes! they were in the cellar with Stadion, and assisted to drink

your wine. They would not allow me to go up into the castle. Even

Hewen, with Freiberg and Heideck, who were with him, dissuaded me from

it, because, they said, the two parties were already much inflamed

against each other, Stadion having the majority of knights, and of the

soldiers also, on his side. 'If I went up,' they added, 'and it should

come to blows in the court of the castle, and in the hall of the

knights, there would be nothing left for them, as the weakest party,

than to fight for life and death. Willingly as they would shed their

last drop of blood for you, they would rather fall before the enemy in

the field of battle than be cut to pieces by their own countrymen and

brothers in arms. Being foiled in every thing, I asked them, as a last

petition, to protect your son, the young Prince Christoph, and your

darling daughter, and preserve the castle to them, when they

surrendered. Some of them consented, others remained silent, and

shrugged up their shoulders. Exasperated, I denounced them as traitors,

and giving them my curses as a Christian knight, challenged any five of

them to fight with me for life and death when the war should be ended.

Upon which I left them, and returned the same way out of the castle

that I entered it."

"Wuertemberg's honour is gone! could I have thought it possible!" cried

Lichtenstein. "Forty-two knights, two hundred soldiers, thus to betray

a fortified castle! Our good name is defamed,--futurity will brand with

scorn our nobility, who deserted their Duke's banners. The saying

'faithful and honourable as a Wuertemberger' is become a term of

reproach."

"We could, indeed, once boast of the truth of the saying, 'faithful as

a Wuertemberger,'" said Duke Ulerich, whilst a tear fell on his beard.

"When my ancestor Eberhard once upon a time rode towards Worms, and sat

at table with the electors, counts and lords, each prided himself upon

the pre-eminence of his own country. One boasted of his wine,--another

spoke of his fruits,--a third of his game,--whilst a fourth talked of

the metals which his mountains produced,--but, when it came to Eberhard

with the Beard to speak, he said, 'I know nothing of your treasures,

but this I know, that if I seek shelter in a humble peasant's cot, in

the most secluded spot, tired and oppressed with fatigue, I am sure to

find a faithful Wuertemberger at hand, upon whose lap I can lay my head

in safety and sleep in peace.' They all wondered in astonishment, and

said, 'Count Eberhard is right, and long live the faithful

Wuertemberger!' But in these times behold, when the Duke traverses a

wood, they lie in wait to kill him; and, if he places his faith in his

nobles for the defence of his castles, scarcely does he turn his back

but they treat with the enemy. May the cuckoo take such faith! But go

on, Maxx, I am the man to drink the dregs of the cup without the fear

of seeing the bottom of it."

"Well, it's soon said. I remained in Tuebingen until I had convinced

myself of its surrender. Yesterday, being Easter Monday, they came to

terms; they drew up the articles in writing, and proclaimed throughout

the streets by a herald, that, at five o'clock in the evening, the

garrison would march out. Prince Christoph, your young son, retains the

castle and administration of Tuebingen, but in the service and under the

guardianship of the League; and as for the rest of the country, it is

said, that it will be divided among the knights. I have experienced

many misfortunes in life,--I killed a friend at a tilting bout,--I have

lost a dear child, and had my house burnt,--but, as true as God and his

saints are gracious to me, I never felt so much pain as at that moment

when I saw the banner of the League hoisted in lieu of your Grace's,

and their red cross cover Wuertemberg's stag horns, and bugle."

So spake Maxx Stumpf von Schweinsberg. The sun had risen, during his

narration, high above the mountains, having dispelled the mists,

leaving only a slight vapour on the heights of the Asperg. It hung upon

the horizon like a thin veil, and heightened the beauty of the scenery

in its immediate neighbourhood. Drest in the soft verdure of spring,

combined with the darker foliage of the woods, ornamented with cheerful

villages and stately castles, Wuertemberg lay spread before the eye of

the beholder, in all the glory of the opening day. The unhappy Prince

surveyed the scene with dejected looks. Nature had blessed him with a

constancy of courage, and a heart which even grief and misery were

unable to subdue; he possessed such control over his feelings that few

were able to discern his inward suffering; and when calamity overtook

him, then it was that the energies of his vigorous mind were most

fertile in resources, and prompted him to immediate action.

In this truly heart-rending moment, when his last hope fell with the

loss of his sole remaining castle, he concealed from his friends around

him the painful conflict with which he was struggling. His feeling

might be compared to the repentant son standing by the death-bed of a

beloved mother, whose solicitude and anxiety for his welfare through

life he had slighted, whose tender care of him in infancy he had

forgotten, and the sacrifices she had imposed on herself to satisfy all

his selfish wishes, even to the straitening of her own circumstances

to meet the demands of his riotous living, he had treated with

ingratitude, deeming them nothing more than his due. But now that her

endearing eye no longer beholds him,--now that the ear is closed which

was wont to listen to his wishes and complaints,--now that those hands

no longer feel his last pressure,--then it is that repentance assails

his heart,--then it is that his guilty conscience upbraids him with the

bitter reproach of ingratitude and neglect of God's commandment,--to

love, honour, and cherish father and mother.

Such was the anguish of self-condemnation which at this moment

oppressed the breast of Ulerich of Wuertemberg as he viewed his country,

now to all appearance lost to him for ever. His noble nature, which he

had too often abused in the blandishments of a brilliant court, and

whose finer feelings had been deadened by the poisonous flattery of

false friends, now upbraided him; not so much for being the author of

his own personal misfortunes as for entailing on his country the

distress attendant upon the occupation of it by his enemies.

Having stood for some time at the window, his mind harassed with these

thoughts, he turned to his friends, who noticed in pleasing

astonishment the calm expression of his countenance. They had dreaded

his first burst of rage and violence, which they expected he would vent

upon the treacherous conduct of his nobility. Instead of which, though

he could not conceal the intensity of suffering he was struggling with,

he was composed and resigned, and his features exhibited a mildness and

resignation which they had scarcely ever seen before.

"Maxx," said he, "how have they acted towards the people of the

country?"

"Like robbers," he answered: "they wantonly desolate the vineyards, cut

down the fruit trees, and burn them at the guard houses; Sickingen's

cavalry ride through the corn fields and tread down what they cannot

consume; they ill treat the women, and extort money from the men. The

people every where begin to murmur; and should the present drought

continue, followed by a failing harvest, a time when the poor people

will be called upon to pay the heavy expenses of the war which the

league's administration will exact, misery and poverty will then be at

its height."

"Oh, what villains!" cried the Duke, "they who boasted, with high

sounding words, that they came to free Wuertemberg of her tyrant, and to

liberate her people from oppression now commit abominations even worse

than Turks. But I vow that if God will assist me, and his holy saints

be merciful to my soul, I will return to the wasted vallies of the

Neckar and its vineless banks, with the scythe of vengeance, cut down

their ranks like sheaves of corn, and, as a revengeful vine dresser,

tread and crush them under foot. I will avenge myself of all the

calamities they have brought on me and my country, so help me God!"

"Amen!" responded the knight of Lichtenstein. "But before you venture

to the rescue of your country, you must first withdraw from it, for a

season. No time is to be lost, if you would escape unmolested."

The Duke considered awhile, and then answered, "You are right, I will

go to Moempelgard, where I shall be able to make arrangements, and, I

trust, collect men sufficient to venture to make a blow. Come here,

thou faithful dog, thou wilt follow me into the misery of banishment.

Thou knowest not what it is to break an oath or forfeit thy faith."

"Here stands another, who also knows nothing of treachery," said

Schweinsberg, and approached the Duke. "I will accompany you to

Moempelgard, if you do not disdain my services."

The knight of Lichtenstein, animated by the same generous feeling, next

said:. "Take me also with you, Duke! my feeble arm indeed is not worth

much in the field, but my voice in council may still be heard."

Bertha's eyes lighted up more brilliantly than ever, as she beheld her

lover, whose cheeks glowed with the ardour of youth, and whose looks

bespoke the fire of his noble spirit.

"My Lord Duke," said he, "I proffered hand and arm in your service,

when we met in the cavern, when I knew not who you were, and you did

not refuse them. I aspire not to have a voice in council--but as you

value a heart which beats faithful to you, an eye that will watch over

you when you sleep, or an arm that will stand between you and your

enemies, take me with you, and let me follow your fortune."

The noble feelings which had at first attached the young man to the

"man without a name," now animated his breast, and the consideration of

the Duke's misfortune, which he bore with such dignified magnanimity,

added to the encouraging glance of his beloved, fed the flame of

enthusiasm and devotion to the Duke's cause, and irresistibly threw him

at his feet.

The old knight of Lichtenstein looked at his young guest with the

joyous pride of a father; the Duke beheld him with emotion, and taking

his hand, raised him from his knee and kissed his forehead.

"Where such hearts beat for us," said he, "we have still fortresses and

walls to shelter us, and cannot bewail our poverty. You possess my love

and esteem, Albert von Sturmfeder; you shall accompany me; I accept

your faithful service with joy. Maxx Stumpf von Schweinsberg, I shall

require your aid in more important business than to protect my body; I

have a commission for you to execute in Hohentwiel and Switzerland. I

cannot accept your company, good and faithful Lichtenstein. I honour

you as a father, for your kindness to me has been such. You opened your

door to me every night. I will repay it. When I return to my country,

with God's help and will, your voice shall be the first in council."

The Duke's eye fell upon the fifer of Hardt, who stood aloof in humble

retirement. "Come here, thou faithful man!" he called to him, and gave

him his right hand, "you once were guilty of a great crime, but you

have repented of it sincerely, and by faithful service regained my

confidence."

"To attempt another's life is not so soon expiated," said the peasant,

with downcast looks: "I am still in your grace's debt, but I will

requite it when the time comes."

"Go to your home--such is my will--follow your occupations as

heretofore. Perhaps you may be able to collect some faithful hearts in

our cause by the time we return to our country. And you, lady! how can

I reward your kindnesses? You deprived yourself many a night of rest,

to open the door for me and shelter me against treachery! Do not blush

so, as if you had some great sin to confess, this being the moment to

act. Venerable father," said he, turning to the knight of Lichtenstein,

"I appear before you as the intercessor of a couple of loving hearts.

You will not disdain the son-in-law whom I propose to you?"

"I do not understand you, gracious Lord," said the knight, looking with

astonishment at his daughter.

The Duke took Albert's hand, and led him to the old man. "This young

man loves your daughter, and she is not indifferent to him,--what think

you of making them a happy couple? But what means that frown of

displeasure? Is he not high born, a gallant antagonist, the strength of

whose arm I have already experienced, and now become my support in the

hour of need?"

Bertha cast her eyes down, her face was suffused with blushes, she

trembled for the reply of her father, who looked sternly at the young

man. "Albert," said he, "I have had a high opinion of you since the

first moment I saw you; it had been, perhaps, not so favourable, had I

been aware of the object which brought you to my house."

The youth was about to make an answer, but the Duke interrupted him.

"You forget that it was I who sent him to you with my seal and

letter--he came not of his own accord. But what are you thinking of so

long? I will adopt him as my son, and reward him with a property which

will make you proud to call him your son-in-law."

"Do not trouble yourself further upon this point, my Lord Duke," said

Albert, indignantly, when he noticed the indecision of the knight of

Lichtenstein. "It shall never be said of me, that the heir of the

Sturmfeders begged for a wife, and obtruded his importunity to gain the

consent of a father against his free will. My name is too dear to me to

resort to such means." He was about to leave the room in displeasure,

but the old knight held him by the hand: "Hot-headed youth," he cried,

"restrain your impetuosity? there, take her, she is yours, but--you

must not think of leading her home, so long as an enemy's banner floats

over the towers of Stuttgardt. Be faithful to the Duke, help him to

return to his country, and if you continue true to his cause, the day

that you enter the gates of the capital, when Wuertemberg shall see her

ensigns floating again over the pinnacles of her castles, my daughter

from that moment shall be yours, and you shall then become my cherished

son-in-law."

"And on that day," spoke the Duke, "the bride will blush more

beautifully than ever, when the merry bells peal from the towers, and

the marriage procession moves to the church. I will then approach the

bridegroom, and demand the reward to which I claim a right. But now, my

good friend, give her the bridal kiss, which is probably not the first,

embrace her once more, and then you belong to me, until that happy day

when we enter Stuttgardt. Let's drink, my friends, to the health of the

happy couple."

A smile mingled with the tears of Bertha, which gleamed in her

beautiful eyes. She filled the goblet to the brim, and having tasted

the wine, a custom in those days done by the cup-bearers at courts,

presented it first to the Duke, with a look so full of gratitude and

lovely grace, that he thought Albert the happiest man in the world, and

that many a one would not have hesitated to risk his life in order to

gain a gem of her worth.

The men took each their goblet, waiting for a toast, which the Duke

should give after his fashion. But Ulerich von Wuertemberg, casting a

long farewell look at his country, which he was about to quit, felt a

tear start in his eye, which forced him to tear himself away from the

painful view. "I now turn my back," said he, "upon objects which are

dear to me, but, please God! I'll see them again in better days. Do not

bewail my fate, but be of good cheer: as long as the Duke and his

trusty friends are united, our good cause is not lost. 'Here's to good

Wuertemberg for ever!'"

FOOTNOTE TO CHAPTER XXIV.:

[Footnote 1: If a crushed world should fall in upon him, the ruins

would strike him undismayed.]

CHAPTER XXV.

In Swabia did thy princely father reign

Beloved, and all did glad allegiance yield;

And of the people, many now remain

Who fought beneath thy banners in the field.

Sure memory cannot be in Swabia dead.

Towards Swabia let us then our footsteps turn,

And as we the Black Forest's mazes tread,

Reviving hopes will in our bosoms burn.

L. UHLAND.

So hot a summer as that of the year 1519, had scarcely ever been known

in Wuertemberg. The whole country had submitted to the power of the

League, and its inhabitants now hoped their troubles were at an end.

But the original intentions of its chiefs only began now to be fully

developed, and it was evident that the mere reoccupation of Reutlingen

was not the sole object for which they had coalesced. They were still

to be indemnified for their expenses, and to be requited for their

services. Some were for dividing Wuertemberg equally among themselves,

others proposed to sell it to Austria, whilst a third party insisted

upon keeping it under the administration of Ulerich's children, subject

to their own guardianship. They quarrelled about the possession of the

country, to which none of them could found the slightest claims.

Disunion and party spirit spread their baneful effects among them, now

that they had satisfied their revenge in driving the legitimate lord

from his dominions. The expenses of the war were to be met, and there

was no one who could or would pay. The knights held this a favourable

opportunity to declare themselves independent. Citizens and peasants

were drained of their money by continual forced contributions, their

fields were desolated and trodden under foot, and they saw no prospect

of recovering their losses. Neither would the clergy contribute to the

expenses of the war; so that the result of it was only dispute and

violence. Many a heart felt how cruelly their legitimate prince had

been persecuted, and bitterly repented having driven him into

banishment, far from the land of his fathers. And when they compared

his system of government with that of their present rulers, they found

they had not bettered themselves by the change; on the contrary, they

were much worse off than before. But they were too much under

subjection to venture to publish their grievances.

The discontent of the people did not escape the government of the

League. Their ears were not shut to "much strange and wicked talk," as

we read in old official documents. They tried to gain adherents to

their cause by rigorous measures. They spread lies concerning the Duke;

one of which was, that he had cut a boy of noble blood in halves, of

the name of Wilhelm von Janowitz. It made a great noise at the time,

but when he was pointed out some time afterwards to a Swiss, as the man

of whom the enemies of Ulerich had spread the report, he gave for

answer, "He must indeed have been a good carpenter who put the boy so

well together again." The priests were ordered to announce from the

pulpit, that whoever spoke favourably of the Duke was to be put in

prison, and those who supported or assisted him were to lose their

eyes, and perhaps their heads.

Ulerich had many faithful friends among the country people, who

secretly gave him intelligence how things were going on in Wuertemberg.

He remained in Moempelgard with the men who had followed him in his

misfortune, waiting a favourable moment to return to his country. He

wrote to many Princes, imploring their assistance, but none would

bestir themselves in his behalf. He petitioned also the Electors,

assembled for the purpose of electing a new Emperor. The only aid they

rendered him was to oblige the new Emperor to add an additional clause

to his contract, favourable to Wuertemberg and the Duke,--but he paid no

attention to it. Though he felt himself thus deserted by all the world,

he did not give way to despondency, but set all his energies at work to

recover his lost country by the resources of his own mind. Many

circumstances appeared to favour his project: the League, having

satisfied themselves that no one would dare shelter the exile in the

country, disbanded most of their troops, composed chiefly of

lansquenet, retaining only weak garrisons in the towns and castles; and

in Stuttgardt itself, the capital, there remained but few infantry

under their banners.

These measures of the League, however, were the cause of creating a

formidable enemy to themselves, in a quarter they did not suspect, but

which very soon contributed essentially to produce a change in the

Duke's favour. This enemy were the common foot soldiers, or the

lansquenet. This body of men, collected together from all ends and

corners of the empire, and composed of all nations, generally offered

their services to those who paid them best. The cause for which they

were to fight was perfectly indifferent to them. Being a licentious

set, and difficult to be restrained even by severity of discipline,

they indemnified themselves by robbery, murder, plunder, and forcibly

exacting contributions, if they were not regularly paid. George von

Fronsberg had been the first to keep them in some measure in

subordination, and by the renown of his name, by daily exercise, and

unbending severity, succeeded in forming them into something like an

army. He divided them into regular companies and brigades, appointed

special officers to each, and taught them to move and fight in columns

and masses. These men now shewed that they came from a good school, for

when the League disbanded them they did not, as formerly, separate

and spread over the country, seeking service individually, but

confederating together, formed twelve companies, chose their own

commanders from among themselves, and appointed their general in the

person of a man who went by the name of _Long Peter_. Being exasperated

against the League, and living upon plunder and forced contributions,

they became the dread of the whole country. Anarchy had spread its

baneful spirit throughout Wuertemberg to such a degree, that no one was

able to resist their depredations. The party of the League was

enfeebled by continual disunion, and was too much employed with its own

affairs to think of freeing the impoverished land of this formidable

band. The knights, being at variance with each other, remained shut up

in their castles, looking on with indifference at the state of affairs.

The garrisons of the towns were weak, and not able to repel them by

force. The citizens and peasantry, when they were not hard pressed by

these marauders, treated them civilly, being equally averse to the

government of the League, whom no one now favoured; it was even said

they were not disinclined to reinstate the Duke, by the assistance of

the same arms that had dethroned him.

On a fine morning of the month of August this body was assembled, and

encamped in a meadow of a valley touching the boundary of Baden. Tall

black firs and pines encompassed the spot on three sides, and formed

part of the Black Forest, with the rivulet called the Wuerm running

through it. Partly under the shade of the wood, partly stretched out

among the bushes of the meadow, the little army was distributed about

in different groups, taking their rest. At the distance of about two

hundred paces were to be seen advanced posts of armed men on the

look-out, whose shining lances and lighted matches inspired dread and

awe to the by-passer. In the middle of the valley, under the shade of a

large oak tree, sat five men, round an out-spread cloak, which served

them for a table, where they were playing at a game of cards, called to

this day lansquenet. These men were distinguished from the rest of

their companions by a broad red scarf, hanging down over the shoulder

and breast; but their dress had otherwise much the same ragged worn-out

appearance with the others. Some of them wore helmets, others large

felt hats, bound with iron, and all of them leather jerkins, of every

possible shade and colour, which long service in rain, dust, and

bivouacing had imparted to them. Upon a closer inspection, there were

two things which particularly distinguished them from the rest of their

comrades. They had neither gun nor pike, which were the ordinary

weapons of the lansquenet, but wore rapiers of uncommon length and

breadth. They also carried in their hats and helmets, in fashion with

the nobility and leaders of armies of those days, cock's tail feathers

of various colours, assuming to themselves the rank of superiority.

These five men, particularly one who was seated with his back to the

tree, appeared much interested in the game which they were playing. He

wore a hat with a brim of the breadth of a good sized millstone,

trimmed with dingy gold lace, and ornamented in front with a gilt

portrait of Saint Peter, out of which sprang two enormous red cock's

feathers. His language was a compound of French, Italian, and

Hungarian, put together in such strange mixture, that he was scarcely

intelligible to those to whom he addressed himself. No one knew what

country gave him birth; but he commanded a certain respect among his

comrades from the fact of his having served in most of the armies of

Europe, and been in nearly all the campaigns of his day; and as he

generally prefaced most of his phrases with oaths which he had picked

up in the countries he had passed through, and which he pronounced

after his own fashion, he thought to render himself thereby of more

consequence among those over whom he had assumed the title of general.

His beard was dressed in the Hungarian fashion, for being twisted up

with pitch, it stuck out on both sides from under his nose a whole

span's breadth in the air, much like two iron spikes.

"_Canto cacramento!_" cried this man, with a threatening bass voice,

"the little knave is mine; I'll cut him with the king of spades!"

"It's mine, with your permission," cried his neighbour, "and the king

into the bargain; there's the queen of spades!"

"Morbleu!" vociferated the other, in a rage; "do you want to take the

trick from your commander, Captain Loeffler? For shame, for shame! he is

a rebel who dares do that. May my soul be punished, but you want to

take the command away from me." The general, for such he was, frowned

furiously, pushed his hat off his ears, and discovered a large red scar

on his forehead, which heightened the savage appearance of his look.

"There is no military discipline at play," General Peter, "answered the

other. You may order us captains to blockade a town, and raise

contributions, but at play one man is as good as another."

"You are mutinous, a rebel against the authorities! Thunder and

lightning! were it not against my honour, I would cut you into a

hundred pieces;--but play on."

"There's an ace," said one. "Here's a quart," said another. "I cut with

the ten," exclaimed a third. "And here's the knave,--who can take him?"

said the fourth player.

"I can," cried the large man; "there's the king,--Morbleu! the trick is

mine."

"Where did you get the king?" said a little thin man, with a cunning

face, small searching eyes, and shrill voice, "didn't I see it at the

bottom of the pack when you dealt. He has cheated! Long Peter has

cheated, by all the saints!"

"Muckerle, captain of the eighth company! I advise you to hold your

tongue," said the general; "_Bassa manelka!_ I don't take a joke,--the

mouse should not play with the lion."

"And I say it again,--where did you get the king? I'll prove you false

before the pope and the king of France, thou foul player."

"Muckerle," replied the general, drawing his sword deliberately out of

its scabbard, "pray another Ave Maria and a Gratias, for as soon as the

game is over you are a dead man."

The other three men were roused from a state of indifference at these

angry words. They sided with the little captain, and gave the general

to understand clearly that they thought he was capable of the imputed

meanness. He, however, looked big, and full of importance, and swore he

had not cheated. "If the holy Peter, my gracious patron, who I carry on

my hat, could speak, he would bear me witness, as true as I am a

Christian lansquenet, that I have not played false!"

"He played fair," said a strange voice, which appeared to issue from

the tree. The men crossed themselves to defend them from an evil

spirit, the gallant general even turned pale, and let drop his cards;

when a peasant stept forward from behind the tree, armed with a dagger,

and having a guitar slung over his shoulder with a leathern strap. He

beheld the group with an undaunted eye, and said, "That gentleman did

not cheat; I saw all the cards that were dealt to him."

"Ah! you are a fine fellow," said the general, much pleased; "as I am

an honest lansquenet, what you say is all right."

"But how is this?" said the little captain, with a sharp look, "how did

this peasant get here without being announced by the piquet? He is a

spy, and deserves to be hung."

"Don't be astonished, Muckerle, he is no spy; come and sit down by me,

my friend, you are a musician, I see, by your instrument hanging over

your shoulder, like a Spaniard going to serenade his love."

"Yes, sir! I am a poor musician; your guard allowed me to pass when I

came through the wood. I saw you playing, and I ventured to look on."

The commanders of this free corps not being accustomed to hear

themselves addressed in such polite terms, took a liking to the

peasant, and invited him courteously to seat himself among them; for

they had learned in the military service of foreign countries that

kings and princes often went about in the guise of minstrels.

The general filled a cup of wine out of a pewter bottle, offered it to

the little captain, and said, with a good-natured smile, "Muckerle,

what I drink shall be my death, if I don't forget everything that has

passed between us! an end to strife and quarrel. We won't play any

more, gentlemen: I love a song and the sound of the guitar--what say

you to some music?"

The men agreed, and threw the cards aside. The peasant tuned his

instrument, and asked what he should sing.

"Give us a song upon card-playing!" cried one of the party.

The musician considered awhile, and sung the following upon the game of

lansquenet, which they had just been playing.

"Cinque, quatre, and ace

Bring many a man to disgrace;

Quatre, and cinque, and tre

Make many to cry well-a-day;

An ace, a seize, and a deuce

Make many an empty house;

A quatre, a trois, and cinque

Cause many pure water to drink;

A cinque, a trois, and quatre

Make parents' and children's eyes water;

From cinque, and quatre, and seize,

Miss Catherine and Miss Elize

Must long unmarried remain,

Unless from your play you refrain."

Long Peter and his associates praised his singing, and reached him the

flask with their thanks. "May God bless you!" said the singer, as he

returned the bottle; "I wish you luck in your campaign. If I don't

mistake, you are the commanders of the League, and are on your march to

the enemy. May I ask who you are going against?"

The men looked and smiled at each other, but the general answered him:

"you are quite in the wrong. We did, indeed, serve the League formerly,

but we are now free and our own masters, ready to assist any one who

wants us."

"This will be a good year for the Swiss, for it is said the Duke will

return to his country with their assistance," said the peasant.

"May the Swiss be hunted by wolves," said the general, "for having

treated him so ill! The good Duke set all his hopes upon them, and,

_diavolo maledetto_! did they not desert him in Blaubeuren?"

"Yes, it was too bad," said Captain Muckerle; "but when one looks at

the circumstance in its proper light, it served him half right, because

he should have known them better. May the devil take them all!"

"They were the Duke's last resource," replied the musician; "but if he

had trusted to such men as you, the League would still be at Ulm."

"You have spoken a true word there, my hearty friend!" said the

captain. "He ought to have preferred the lansquenets before those Swiss

dogs. And if he trusts to them now, I know what will happen. I say it

again: he should take lansquenets. Is it not so, Magdeburger?"

"That's my opinion also," said the Magdeburger: "no other than

lansquenets can seat the Duke upon his chair again. The Swiss only know

how to use their long halberds; that's all their art. But you ought to

see us load our guns, how we lay them in the fork, and fire them with a

match. No one can come near us in that man[oe]uvre. The Swiss take half

an hour to fire their guns, but we only half of a quarter."

"With all respect, gentlemen of this noble corps," said the peasant,

raising his cap respectfully, "the Duke should certainly have thrown

himself upon your bounty. But the League rewarded you too well for the

poor Duke to be able to crave your assistance."

"Rewarded, did you say?" cried the captain of the fifth company, and

laughed; "yes, those Swabian dogs would have melted gold out of lead if

they could! But I say they paid us ill, and if his grace the Duke will

take me, my services are at his command."

"You are right, Staberl," said the general, and stroked his beard.

"_Morbleu!_ the cat likes to have his back stroked:--if the Duke pays

well, the whole corps will join him."

"Well, you shall soon see that," said the peasant, with a cunning

smile; "have you had an answer to your message to the Duke?"

The general's whole countenance became as red as fire at this question.

"_Mordelement!_ Who are you, child of man, who knows my secret? Who

told you I had sent to the Duke?"

"Did you, Peter, send to him? What secret have you between each other

that we should not know? Tell us immediately," said the Magdeburger.

"Well, I thought it was my duty to think for you all again, as I always

have done, and sent a man to the Duke in our name, and with our

compliments, to know if he required our services? Our terms were, half

a broad piece a man per month, and for us generals and captains a gold

florin, with four measures of old wine."

"Those are no bad terms: a gold florin a month! none of us will object

to them. Have you had an answer from the Duke?" said the Magdeburger.

"Not yet," said the general. "But, _bassa manelka!_ tell me, how do you

come to know my secret, peasant, or I'll cut off your ear, and pin it

to my hat? Tell me immediately, or off it comes."

"Long Peter," cried the little captain Muckerle, "let him go in peace,

for God's sake! he is a resolute man, and possesses the art of

witchcraft. I recollect his face as well as if it was but to-day, when

we had orders to arrest him in Ulm, and were sent to look for him at

the stable of Herrn von Kraft, the clerk of the council, where he

resided. He was a spy, and was able to make himself smaller and

smaller, not bigger than a sparrow, and flew away from us."

"What!" cried the gallant general, and edged away from the peasant; "is

this the man? Why did not the magistrates of Ulm order all the sparrows

to be shot, because a Wuertemberger spy had turned himself into one?"

"That's him," whispered Muckerle; "that's the fifer of Hardt; I knew

him as soon as I saw him."

The general and his companions did not recover their astonishment for

some time. They beheld the man of whom many wonderful stories had been

related with mingled curiosity and apprehension. Hans was clever

enough, however, to understand what they whispered to each other,

without the appearance of remarking the state of surprise he had

created among them. At length, Long Peter, the official organ of the

rest, took heart, twisted his whiskers, and, taking off his enormous

hat, thus addressed the fifer of Hardt: "Pardon us, worthy companion,

and highly respected fifer of Hardt, that we have treated you with so

little ceremony; but how could we know who it was we had among us? be

many times welcome; I have long wished to see so renowned a man as the

fifer of Hardt, who had the power of flying away from Ulm like a

sparrow in the middle of the day."

"Let's have done with those old stories," interrupted the fifer,

hastily. "I heard this day from the Duke, who desired me to find you

out, to know if you were still inclined to join him upon the terms he

has proposed."

"_Canto cacramento!_ he is a good man! a gold ducat a month and four

measures of wine daily! Long may he live!" cried the general.

"When will he come?" asked captain Loeffler. "Where shall we meet him?"

"This very day, if no ill luck attends him. He was to advance upon

Heimsheim this morning, where the garrison is weak, and, when he has

taken it, he will come on this way."

"Look! there rides a man in armour, to all appearance a knight!" The

men looked towards the end of the valley, and remarked a helmet and

armour shining in the sun, with a horse occasionally visible. The fifer

of Hardt jumped up and climbed the oak, whence he could overlook the

valley with greater ease. The horseman was too distant from him to be

able to recognise his features, but he thought he knew the scarf which

he wore, and that it was the person he had been expecting to appear.

"What do you see?" said the men; "is it one riding by chance through

the wood, or do you think he comes from the Duke?"

"That's him with the white and blue scarf," said the fifer; "that's his

long hair, and his seat on horseback. Oh, precious youth, welcome back

to Wuertemberg! He observes your advanced post, and rides towards it;

only look how the fellows present their lances and spread out their

legs!"

"Yes, yes, the lansquenet knows the arts of war; no one dare pass the

spot where the commanders are, without knowing his business," said the

general.

"Stop! they are calling to him; he speaks to them; they point this way;

he comes!" cried the fifer, who came down from the tree with a joyful

countenance.

"_Diavolo maledetto! bassam terendete!_ They won't let him ride alone,

I hope? Ah! I see one of them has hold of his bridle 1 How? It is

really a knight that comes!

"A nobleman as good as any in the empire," answered the fifer; "the

friend and favourite of the Duke." Upon hearing this they all stood up,

for, though they fancied themselves men of importance and rank, they

were aware of their being only lansquenets, and bound to pay proper

respect to their superiors. The general seated himself again, with an

air of gravity, at the foot of the oak--stroked his beard to make it

shine--arranged his hat with the cock's feathers properly--supported

his hand on his enormous sword--and in this manner awaited the arrival

of the stranger.

END OF VOL. II.

J. B. Nichols and Son, 25, Parliament-street.

THE BANISHED.

VOL. III.

LONDON: PRINTED BY J. B. NICHOLS AND SON,

25, PARLIAMENT STREET.

THE BANISHED:

A

SWABIAN HISTORICAL TALE.

EDITED BY

JAMES MORIER, ESQ.

AUTHOR OF HAJJI BABA, &c.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. III.

LONDON:

HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER,

GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.

1839.

THE BANISHED.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XXVI.

The Duke at length is coming,

The battle field's not far;

For vanquish'd is the foeman,

And he brings the spoils of war.

G. SCHWAB.

A knight in armour, his horse being led between two of the lansquenet

from the outpost, now approached the place where Long Peter, their

general, and the other men, were assembled. Though he had drawn the

vizor of his shining helmet over his face, the fifer of Hardt thought

he recognised him as the man he expected, by the plates and cuish of

steel which encased his muscular limbs, the plumes which waved high in

the breeze, and the well known scarf which crossed over his coat of

mail. And he was not mistaken, for one of the men who led his horse

advanced to the General, and acquainted him that the noble "Knight of

Sturmfeder" wished to speak to the leaders of the lansquenet.

Long Peter answered in the name of the rest, "tell him he is welcome,

and that Peter Hunzinger the General, Staberl of Vienna, Conrad the

Magdeburger, Balthaser Loeffler, and the brave Muckerle, all well

appointed Captains, are ready to receive and hear him. May my soul be

punished, but he has a beautiful suit of armour, and an helmet

fit for King Francis; and as to his steed, I have never seen a

finer--_Morbleu_, how well he stands on his four legs!"

The men kept at a respectful distance from the stranger, who now

approached, but shewed no inclination to dismount. Raising his vizor,

he spoke to one of the men, and discovered his handsome friendly

countenance. "Is not that Hans, the musician?" said he, to the men. "I

have a word to say to him first."

The general made a sign to the fifer to approach the young knight, who

immediately dismounted from his horse. "Welcome in Wuertemberg, noble

sir," said the man of Hardt, and returned a hearty shake of Albert von

Sturmfeder's hand: "what news do you bring? The Duke's cause prospers,

if I can judge from the expression of your countenance."

"Come on one side," he replied, in anxious haste. "How fares it in

Lichtenstein? Have you a letter or a couple of lines for me? O give it

quickly!"

The fifer smiled at the impatience of the lovesick youth; "I have

neither letter nor line. The lady is well, and the old knight also;

that is all I know."

"How!" replied the other, "nothing, not even a message? I am sure she

did not let you depart without something for me!"

"When I took my leave of the lady the day before yesterday, she said,

'Tell him to hasten the entrance into Stuttgardt;' and when she spoke,

became as red in the face as you are at present."

"We'll soon be there, with God's will!" he answered. "But how has she

passed the long summer? I have only heard from her three times since we

parted. Were you often in Lichtenstein, Hans?"

"Dear sir," answered the fifer, "have patience, and I will relate every

thing, in length and breadth, on the march: for the present, be

satisfied with the assurance, that so soon as the old knight hears you

are advancing to Stuttgardt, he will set out from Lichtenstein with

your bride, for he does not doubt of your overpowering the garrison.

Have you succeeded in taking Heimsheim?"

"We have: I rode through the gates with twelve horsemen, before they

were aware of our coming. Though the garrison were somewhat stronger

than us, they were dispirited and dissatisfied. I treated with them in

the Duke's name, and made them believe that he was coming up with a

large body of troops, upon which they surrendered: thus far are we in

Wuertemberg. But in what state is the road before us?"

"Open, into the heart of the country, open. I have important news for

the Duke from the knight of Lichtenstein, namely, that the men in power

are out of the land, do you know----"

"Is it the meeting they now hold at Noerdlingen you mean?" interrupted

Albert. "Oh! yes, we know it, for it was that news which determined the

Duke to commence operations."

"Well, when the cats are away, the mice will play," said the fifer;

"the garrisons are every where careless. None of the League think any

more of the Duke, their attention being wholly taken up with the

meeting at Noerdlingen, where it will be decided, whether Austria, or

Bavaria, or Prince Christoph, or the Leaguist towns Augsburg and Aalen,

Nuernberg, and Bopfinger, will reign over us."

"What long faces they will make," exclaimed Albert, smiling, "when they

hear that the chair about which they are quarrelling is already

possessed:

'The frog jumps into the muddy pool,

Tho' he may set upon a golden stool!'

says the proverb; they may shoulder their guns and give up governing

now. And the Wuertembergers, what are their feelings towards the Duke at

present? Do you believe many will come to his assistance?"

"He may reckon upon the citizens and peasantry," replied the fifer.

"How it stands with the knights, I don't know; for when I asked the old

man of Lichtenstein, he shrugged up his shoulders and muttered a couple

of curses: I fear that matter is not so well as it should be. But

citizens and peasants hold to a man for their Prince. Many

extraordinary signs have appeared, which encourage the people. Lately

in the valley of the Rems a stone fell from the sky, on one side of

which a stag's horn and the following words were engraved, 'Here's to

good Wuertemberg for ever,' and on the reverse, in Latin, 'Long live

Duke Ulerich.'"

"Did you say it fell from the sky?"

"So it was said. The peasantry were overjoyed at it, but the officers

of the League put the magistrate of the place where it had fallen into

prison, and wanted to extort from him the name of the person who had

engraved the letters. And when it was proclaimed, upon pain of severe

punishment, that no one was to speak of the Duke, the men only laughed,

and said, 'We dream of him now.' They all wish him back again, and

would rather be oppressed by their legitimate Lord than be flayed by

strangers."

"That's as it should be," said Albert. "The Duke and his cavalry may be

here in a few hours. His intention is, to cut his way straight through

the country to Stuttgardt. The capital once ours, the rest will soon

follow. But how is it with these lansquenets--will they join us?"

"I had almost forgotten them," said Hans, "we had better go to them;

else they will become impatient if we keep them waiting. You must be

cautious how you treat them, for they are proud fellows, and have no

small idea of their own importance. By winning these five to our

interests, the whole twelve companies are sure to follow. With their

General, Long Peter, mind and be very civil and courteous."

"Which is Long Peter?"

"The big man, sitting under the oak; he with the stiff mustachios and

hat of distinction on his head. He is the commander in chief."

"I will talk to him, and follow your advice," Albert answered, and

proceeded towards them. The long conversation which they had held had

somewhat displeased the men, and little Muckerle in particular eyed the

ambassador of the Duke with a penetrating glance. But when the young

knight appeared among them his noble demeanour disconcerted them, they

became shy and embarrassed before him, so much so, that the courteous

words which he addressed to them soon had the desired effect of

bringing them over to the Duke's cause. They listened to him in

respectful silence.

"Most experienced general and brave commanders of the assembled

lansquenet," said Albert, "the Duke of Wuertemberg having approached the

boundary of his country, and captured Heimsheim, is determined in the

same way to recover his whole dukedom."

"May my soul be punished, but he is right!" said Long Peter; "I would

do the same."

"He has already experienced the courage and military science of the

lansquenet, when they fought on the side of his enemies, and he trusts

they will manifest the same bravery in his cause, promising upon his

princely word, faithfully to fulfil the engagements he has proposed."

"A pious man," murmured the commanders among themselves, with approving

nods; "a gold florin a month, and, _morbleu_! four measures of wine a

day for the superior officers."

The general rose from his seat, saluted him by uncovering his

bald head, and said, though often interrupted by many coughs of

embarrassment, "We thank you, most noble sir; we agree--we'll join

you. We'll give back to the Swabian League what they gave us, that we

will--hard usage. The very best and most courageous, as well as the

most excellent of men, have they dismissed, as if they did not value

our services. There stands, for example, Captain Loeffler: if there is a

braver lansquenet in all Christendom, I'll allow my skin to be peeled

off and walk about in my bones the rest of my life! Look at Staberl of

Vienna: the sun and moon have never shone upon his equal! And the

Magdeburger there, no Turk ever fought like him; and as for little

Muckerle, though he does not look it, he is the best shot in the

world, and can hit the bull's eye in the target at forty paces. I

won't say anything of myself; self praise does not sound well. But,

_bassa manelka_! I have served in Spain and Holland--and, _canto

cacramento_--also in Italy and Germany! _Morbleu!_ Long Peter is known

in every army. May my soul be punished, when I and the others get

behind the Swabian dogs, _diavolo maledetto_, they'll take to their

hareskin, and be off as fast as their heels can carry them!"

This was the longest speech Long Peter had ever made; and when many

years after he sealed the renown of the German lansquenet with his

death before Pavia, his companions, in relating to their young comrades

the events of his life, always mentioned this moment as the most

glorious of his career. He was described as standing before his

audience, leaning upon his long sword, his large hat with the red

feathers cocked over his ear, the right hand resting upon his side, and

his legs spread out, wanting nothing to complete his pretensions to a

regular general than a better jerkin and the chain of honour.

The commanders, after the flattering speech of their general, invited

their new guest to pass their army in review. The hollow sound of

enormous drums soon roused the men from their rest. They appeared still

to be under the influence of Fronsberg's military genius and strict

discipline, by the activity they displayed in forming themselves, in a

few moments, into three great circles, each composed of four companies.

To an eye accustomed, as in our times, to the rapid but steady

movements of regiments, and the beautiful appearance of their

uniformity of dress, the sight of this heterogeneous multitude would

cause surprise if not ridicule. Though the lansquenets were generally

clothed according to their own taste, there was still a semblance of an

attempt to uniformity after the fashion of those days. For the most

part they wore jerkins of leather setting tight to the body, or leather

waistcoats with arms of coarse cloth, and enormous wide trousers tied

under the knee, and falling by their own weight a little below it. The

legs were covered with coarse stockings of a light colour, and the feet

with shoes of untanned leather. A hat, leather or metal cap, probably

articles of plunder rather than of purchase, covered the head; and the

bearded faces of these men, many of whom had served twenty years in all

the armies and under every climate in Europe, gave them a very bold and

martial appearance. They were armed with a dagger and halberd, and some

with guns, which were fired with a match.

Standing with outstretched legs, and foot to foot meeting, they

presented a bold front; and Albert's military spirit rejoiced at the

sight of these experienced warriors, who, however, were well aware,

that in single combat they had no confidence, but formed in mass they

were formidable even to a more numerous enemy.

The commanders had carefully retained all the man[oe]uvres and words of

command of their former leader. They walked into the middle of one of

the circles, followed by their new acquaintance, when the deep and

loud-toned voice of Long Peter gave the word "Attention! face about."

The celerity with which the order was obeyed by turning around facing

inwards, proved they had not forgotten their lesson. They listened to

the proposals of the Duke of Wuertemberg which the commanders addressed

to them, and manifested by a murmur which ran through the ranks, that

they were satisfied with the terms, and would serve his cause with the

same zeal as they had not long since served against it. They were then

put through several man[oe]uvres, which they performed with an address

that astonished Albert, who thought the art of war of his day would

never be surpassed as long as the world existed. But he deceived

himself. His error of judgment was, however, pardonable, for in the

same way did our grandfathers hold the heroes of Frederick the Great in

estimation, as the _ne plus ultra_ of military discipline, and did not

anticipate the ridicule of their descendants on the subject of

perruques and long gaiters. And may not the time come, when the _good

old times_ of 1839 will also have their share of ridicule? Certainly

such elegant laced-up figures as are seen now-a-days among military

men, were not the fashion among the lansquenet and their commanders,

A. D. 1519.

About an hour after, it was announced from the advanced posts, that

they had perceived at the further end of the valley, in the

neighbourhood of the road leading from Heimsheim, the glittering of

arms, and when they put their ears close to the ground, they heard

distinctly the trampling of many horses.

"That's the Duke," cried Albert; "bring me my horse; I will ride and

meet him."

The young man galloped away through the wood, to the admiration of the

bystanders, who were astonished at the activity he displayed in

throwing himself upon his steed, encumbered as he was with his heavy

armour. Helmets with high plumes and shining lances were shortly after

seen moving among the bushes of the valley. As they approached, the

cavalry issued from the wood, seen first breast high among the

underwood, and then their whole figures were visible on a small height,

where the whole body assembled. The joy of the fifer of Hardt was

indescribable when he got a sight of the gallant band, headed by the

Duke. He took the general by the hand, and pointed to them with an air

of triumphant satisfaction.

"Which is the Duke?" asked Long Peter; "is that him on the black piebald

horse?"

"No, that is the noble knight Von Hewen: the banner-bearer of

Wuertemberg:--but, no, am I mistaken? I declare Albert von Sturmfeder

carries it!"

"That's a great honour! _Morbleu_, he is only five-and-twenty, and

carries the flag! In France the only man who is entitled to that

privilege is the constable, the next man to the king in honour. In that

country it is called the standard, and is made all of gold. But which

is Duke Ulerich?"

"Do you see that man in a green cloak, with the black and red feathers

in his helmet? he that rides next to the banner, mounted on a black

horse, and is speaking to the young knight. He points this way. That's

the Duke."

The body of cavalry was composed of about forty men, mostly noblemen

and their servants, who the Duke, in his banishment, had assembled

together, or appointed to meet him on the boundary of his country, when

his plans were ripe for an invasion. They were all well mounted and

armed. Albert von Sturmfeder carried Wuertemberg's banner; next to him

rode the Duke in complete armour. When they came within about two

hundred paces of the lansquenet, Long Peter, in a loud voice, said to

his people, "Attention, my people. When his Grace is near enough, and I

raise my hat off my head, let every one cry, 'Vivat Ulericus!' lower

the colours, and you, drummers, rattle upon your sheep-skins like

thunder and lightning! Give us the animating flourish of the drum as at

the storming of a fortress! _Bassa manelka_, beat away till the

drumsticks break--that's the way the brave lansquenet salute a prince."

This short speech had the desired effect. The Duke's praises were

murmured through the warlike band; they shook their halberds, stamped

their fire-arms clattering on the ground, the drummers prepared their

drums and sticks to obey their general's orders in full vigour; and

when Albert von Sturmfeder, the standard-bearer of Wuertemberg, sprang

forward, followed by Duke Ulerich, majestic as in the best days of his

power, with bold dignified countenance, Long Peter uncovered his head

in respectful submission, the preconcerted signal was instantly obeyed,

the drummers executed their military music, the colours were lowered in

salute, and the whole body of the lansquenet vociferated a loud and

cheering "Vivat Ulericus!"

The peasant of Hardt remained at a distance, not heeding the salute,

for his whole soul appeared concentred in his eye, which was fixed on

his lord in the intoxication of joy. The Duke stopped his horse, and

looked about him in the dead silence which afterwards succeeded. The

fifer then came forward, knelt down, holding his stirrup for him to

dismount, and said, "Here's to good Wuertemberg for ever!"

"Ha! are you there, Hans, my trusty companion in misfortune, the first

to salute me in Wuertemberg? I expected my nobles would have been the

foremost to greet my arrival in my country, my chancellor and my

council--where are the dogs? Where are the representatives of my

estates? will they not welcome me to my home? Is no one here to hold my

stirrup but this peasant?"

The followers of the Duke hastened around him in surprise when they

heard these cutting words. They scarcely knew whether he was in

earnest, or whether it was a mere sarcastic joke over his own

misfortunes. His mouth, appeared to smile, but his eye bespoke anger,

and his voice sounded stern and commanding. They looked at each other

in doubtful apprehension as to the meaning of this burst of passion,

when the fifer of Hardt replied,

"For this once a peasant only assists your Grace on Wuertemberg ground;

but despise not a true heart and a willing hand. The others will soon

come, when they hear the Duke treads his native land again."

"Do you think so?" said Ulerich, with a bitter smile, as he swung

himself from his horse; "do you think they'll come? Hitherto we have

little reason to flatter ourselves; but I'll knock at their doors, and

let them know that the old gentleman is there, and will have admittance

to his house! Are these the lansquenets who have agreed to serve me?"

he continued, attentively observing the little army; "they appear well

armed, and in good condition. How many men are there?"

"Twelve companies, your Grace," answered Peter the general, who still

stood without his hat, in a state of embarrassment, twisting his

mustachios occasionally. "Nothing but well-trained men. May my soul be

punished--pardon my oath--but the king of France has no better

soldiers!"

"Who are you?" asked the Duke, looking with astonishment at the large

heavy figure of the general, with his immense sword and red face.

"I am a lansquenet of my own order, and am called Long Peter, but now

the well-appointed general of the assembled----"

"What, general! this folly must have an end. You may be a very brave

man, but you are not made to command. I will be your general

henceforth," said the Duke, "and my knights will be named as your

captains."

"_Bassa manelka!_--I am sorry I swore, but permit an old soldier to say

a word to your Grace. What you propose would be against our terms of a

gold florin a month, and four measures of wine a-day. There stands, for

example, Staberl of Vienna, not a braver man under the sun----"

"Very good, very good, old man! we'll not talk of the gold florin and

wine now," replied the Duke. "The captains shall retain their present

commands, but I command you. Have you any ammunition?"

"Yes, to be sure," said the Magdeburger; "we have plenty, which belonged

to your Grace, and which we brought away from Tuebingen. Each man has

eighty rounds."

"Very well," answered the Duke; "George von Hewen and Philip von

Rechberg, do you divide the men, and each take six companies. Let their

captains remain with their men, and assist their commanders. Ludwig von

Gemmingen, I appoint you to command all the infantry. And now we'll

march direct for Leonberg. Rejoice, my faithful standard bearer," said

the Duke, as he mounted, "with God's assistance we'll be in Stuttgardt

tomorrow."

The troop of cavalry, with the Duke at their head, led the way. Long

Peter stood fixed in the same place, with his hat and its cock's

feathers in his hand, observing the horsemen.

"That is a Prince, indeed!" he said to the other commanders who stood

beside him. "What a powerful voice he has; and when he rolls his eyes

about it makes one quake for fear! I thought he would have swallowed

me, head and all, when he asked me who I was."

"I felt much in the same state as if hot water had been poured over

me," said the Magdeburger. "This man is more to be dreaded than the

Emperor in Vienna."

"Our reign has been but a short one," said Captain Muckerle; "our

dignity has not lasted long."

"Fool! so much the better. Dignity only brings cares, says the proverb;

our people don't submit readily to our orders--_diavolo!_--for one of

them laughed at me in my face only this day. Things will go much better

when the knights lead us: and we shall receive a gold florin and four

measures of wine; that's our principal business." So said Peter.

"I think so too," said the Magdeburger; "and we have to thank Long

Peter for our good fortune. Long may he live!"

"Thank you," said the general; "but I tell you, the Duke will set the

League in flames again, _morbleu!_ and when he draws his sword, he

alone will hunt them out of the country. And did you hear how he cursed

his council, chancellor, and nobles? I would not like to be in their

skins."

The conversation of the veterans was now interrupted by the rolling of

the drums, which no longer sounded at their command. Long Peter had

been so often accustomed, during his many campaigns, to the

vicissitudes of fortune, by being raised and lowered suddenly in rank,

that he was not disconcerted by his present loss of command. He very

quietly deprived his large hat of its ornamental cock's feather; he

laid aside his red scarf and long sword, the emblems of his dignity,

and shouldered his halberd. "May my soul be punished, but mine is a

hard case, who but yesterday was in supreme command, and am now obliged

to go back into the ranks," said he, as he took his place among his

comrades. "But by Saint Peter, my holy patron and brother lansquenet,

every thing is for the best in this world." His companions shook him by

the hand, and agreed with him in his sentiments. It did his brave heart

good to hear them approve of his conduct, the short time he had wielded

the command over them. The three knights, their newly appointed

leaders, mounted and put themselves at the head of their brigades; the

lansquenets arranged themselves in the common order of march, and,

Ludwig von Gemmingen ordering the drums to beat the advance, the little

army broke up their camp, and set forward.

CHAPTER XXVII.

The summit of the wall is gain'd

All in the silent night,

And now the fortress is attain'd!

We do not fear the light.

Now, let us sound the battle cry,

And be it "Death or victory!"

SCHILLER.

Duke Ulerich appeared before the gate of Stuttgardt, called the Red

Hill Gate, on the night previous to the holiday of the Assumption of

the Virgin Mary. Having captured the little town of Leonberg on his

way, he prosecuted his march on the capital without further

interruption. The news of his being in the country spread through the

land like wild-fire, and judging by the numbers that joined his

colours, as well as by the joy with which he was everywhere received,

he had reason to suppose the people would rejoice to see their

legitimate Prince re-established in his rights, and the hateful

government of the League abolished.