In the present day the education of the fair sex gives them a superior

claim to intellectual knowledge and accomplishment over those of the

times we narrate. The interest they now take in learned discussion and

political argument, and the thirst for novelty which induces many to

crowd the rooms of the scientific lecturer, would seem, in some

instances, to intrude on the more important duty of domestic

employment. Not so was the time of the Swabian matrons and young women

occupied. The charge of the house was their sole vocation; but, upon

occasions such as the present, their delight was to witness the manly

exercise of men, whose bloody strifes were even not unwelcome to their

sight. Many a beautiful eye flashed with the noble desire of belonging

to a brave combatant. Deep blushes adorned many a cheek, not so much

from the fear of seeing her beloved in danger as to witness his retreat

from the scene of action, when it was attended with disgrace, or when

his arm wielded his sword less powerfully than his antagonist.

Horses were even brought into the hall on this evening, and Bertha had

the joy to see her husband obtain a second applause for having made

George von Hewen stagger two different times in his saddle. Duke

Ulerich von Wuertemberg was the bravest combatant of his day, and an

ornament to the order of knighthood. History relates of him that, on

the day of his own wedding, he overthrew eight of the strongest knights

of Swabia and Franconia.

After the tilting had lasted some time, the company adjourned to the

hall of the knights for dancing, when the victors of the different

games had the precedence in the ball, in all respects similar to the

one we have already described. The Duke appeared to have pinned all

anxiety and care of the future upon the hump of his chancellor, who sat

in a window like a demon of evil destiny, looking upon the surrounding

scene with bitter smiles. Raging under an envious feeling of spite, by

being debarred from joining in the pleasures of the evening in

consequence of the deformity of his person, he remained in his position

in sullen silence.

At the end of the last dance Ulerich, the crown of the feast, proposed

a parting toast to the young and beautiful bride, but neither he nor

Albert could find her in any part of the room. The whisperings and

smiles of the ladies betrayed the secret of her having been led away by

six of the handsomest maidens, who accompanied her to her dwelling,

and, as the custom of those days would have it, to perform the

mysterious services of waiting maids.

"Sic transit gloria mundi!" said the Duke, smiling; "but look, Albert,

your nuptial companions, with twelve others, are approaching with

torches to illumine your path home. But first empty a goblet with us.

Cupbearer, go bring us some of our best," he added, addressing the

attendants.

Maxx Stumpf von Schweinsberg and Dieterich von Kraft now drew near with

torches in their hands, and offered themselves to conduct Albert to his

house. Twelve young men followed, each with a torch, to do honour

likewise to the bridegroom, for that was also the ceremony used on such

occasions. The Duke's cup-bearer brought a full goblet of wine, when

having, according to custom, first tasted it himself, he presented it

to his master, and then to Albert von Sturmfeder.

Ulerich looked at his friend for a time, evidently moved by a feeling

of affection for him. "You have kept your word," said he: "when I was

deserted by all the world, dwelling in misery under the earth, you made

yourself known to me, when those forty traitors surrendered my castle,

and not a spot of Wuertemberg was left that I could call my own. You

followed me out of the country,--you often consoled me and pointed to

this day. Remain, my friend, for who knows what the next day may bring

forth. I can now command hundreds who will cry, 'Long live Ulerich!'

nevertheless, that shout is far less dear to me than the toast which

you gave me in the cavern, and which was re-echoed through its vaults.

I'll repeat it, and give it you back again. May you live happy with

your wife,--may your offspring blossom and prosper for ever,--and may

Wuertemberg never fail in hearts as bold in prosperity and faithful in

adversity as yours has proved itself!"

The Duke drank, whilst a tear glistened in his eye. The guests cheered

and shouted his praise,--the torch-bearers arranged themselves in

order,--and Albert von Sturmfeder, led by his two companions, and

followed by the rest, was conducted in procession out of the castle to

the house of his bride.

CHAPTER XXXII.

Hast thou not seen by times the cloudless sky

Sudden illumined by the lightning flash,

And its still, still silence, broken horribly

By the loud music of the thunder crash?

To this we might man's happiness compare,--

To day 'tis present, and to-morrow----where?

SCHILLER.

The path which the most celebrated novelists of our days generally

tread, in their relation of events of ancient and modern times, may be

found without the aid of any beacon, and has a direct and fixed

limit:--it is the journey of a hero going to a wedding. Let the road be

ever so rugged, let him even venture to loiter his time improvidently

and inconsistently on his way, he will be induced in the end to hasten

his steps so much more rapidly to redeem the lost ground; and so, when

an author has at length conducted his reader to the bridal chamber,

after having made his hero undergo all the necessary fatigues of his

journey with becoming fortitude and resolution, he shuts the door in

your face, and closes the book. We might in the same way have ended our

story with the gay doings in the castle of Stuttgardt, or included the

reader in the torchlight procession of the bridegroom, and conducted

him out of our book; but the higher claims of truth and history,

together with the interest we have taken in some of the leading

characters, compel us to request the reader's patience to accompany us

a few steps further, beyond the limit of the bridal-chamber. He will

have to bewail with us the destiny of one, who, having begun his career

in the midst of misfortune, progressively advanced towards the

completion of his best wishes by the energy of his noble mind, until at

length his impetuous spirit hurled him again into the depths of misery.

His headstrong obstinacy had well nigh involved all his friends in his

own sad fate: one alone of them, whose sense of gratitude had

indissolubly attached him to the fortunes of his benefactor, preferred

rather to risk his life in his service than to desert him in the hour

of distress.

Nature's warning voice, which teaches us to be prepared against a

reverse of fortune in our happiest days, runs through the world's

history. It is acknowledged by the many, unheeded by the majority, and

followed by the few. In all times a troubled spirit has pervaded the

habitations of our earth; and, though its influence has been often

felt, man has vainly thought to deaden it in the noise of mirth.

Ulerich von Wuertemberg had heard this warning voice many a night, when

he lay on his couch sleepless from a troubled mind. Often times he had

started up, thinking he heard the noise of armed men, or the heavy

tread of an army approaching nearer and nearer the spot; and, though he

convinced himself it was but the night breeze playing through the

towers of his castle, a fearful impression still haunted his mind, that

his fate was destined to some other awful change. The warnings of his

old and tried friend Lichtenstein would often whisper its voice to his

mind; in vain he sought to smother it by calling to his aid the artful

advice of his chancellor, by which he tried to palliate his own conduct

and quiet his conscience. But that faithful monitor upbraided him with

having acted without due circumspection and caution since his return to

his capital. His enemies, it was well known, had re-assembled a

powerful force, with which they threatened the country, and were

approaching into the heart of Wuertemberg. The imperial town of

Esslingen presented itself as a very favourable starting point for

their undertakings; being but a short distance from the capital, nearly

in the centre of the country: as soon, therefore, as the army of the

League could open its communication with it, it became a formidable

stronghold, to favour and cover their incursions into Wuertemberg. The

country people in many places received the Leaguists favourably, for

the Duke, by his new regulations, which he had made them swear to, had

rendered them distrustful of his intentions. The Wuertembergers, from

time immemorial, being attached to ancient customs and privileges,

handed down through successive generations, regard their old laws and

ordinances as so many golden words, though they may scarcely understand

their import, or seldom consider whether some reform would not be

advantageous.

The peaceable character of the peasant, generally so universal

throughout the country, fostered by the tranquil occupations of

domestic and agricultural affairs, would lead to a supposition that

political strifes were subjects indifferent to their minds; but it was

far otherwise: on the occasion of any change or reform in the usages of

their ancient laws and customs, which interfered with their ideas of

government, they manifested an obstinate caprice, with an ardour and

enthusiasm quite out of keeping, and foreign to their ordinary

inoffensive dispositions.

The Duke had experienced this love of old institutions in his people,

when he some few years back, by the advice of his council, for the

purpose of bettering his finances, made an alteration in the public

weights and measures. An organised insurrection of peasants, entitled,

"The League of Poor Conrad," had made him reflect, and caused the

Tuebingen compact, which restored the old law, to be introduced. This

feeling of attachment to long standing habits was also manifested

towards him personally in a very touching manner, when the League

entered the country with the intention of expelling the head of the

ancient house of their prince. Their fathers and grandfathers having

lived under the sway of the Dukes and Counts of Wuertemberg, they were

filled with dismay and consternation, when a foreign army entered their

country to deprive them of their hereditary prince. Their hatred and

revenge was excited against the League and their governors; and, though

they were compelled by force to submit to their rule, they proved their

love to their Lord in many instances of violence towards his enemies.

When their hereditary prince, therefore, a Wuertemberger, first

returned from exile, the people flocked around him, under the

impression that affairs would go on as heretofore. Under his sway they

were willing to pay the taxes, to redeem all the state debts, and

perform the service done in soccage. There was no murmuring about hard

treatment, provided it was done according to ancient usage, and by

their legitimate master. But now, the old laws having been expunged by

the new oath of fidelity to which they were called upon to swear, the

taxes being no longer levied according to old custom, and the whole

system being changed, it was no wonder that the people looked upon the

Duke as a new master, foreign to their habits, and loudly demanded a

return to former rights. They consequently lost all faith in him; not

because his hand lay heavier upon them than heretofore; not because he

required considerably more from their purses than formerly, but because

they regarded the new order of things with a suspicious eye.

A prince, particularly when he lends his ear to such a man as Ambrosius

Bolland, seldom learns the true tone of public opinion, and therefore

cannot judge whether the measures which his council place before him

have been wisely considered. In the present instance, however, the

discontent of his people did not escape the penetrating eye of the

Duke. He remarked, that he could no more depend upon them, in the event

of an extreme difficulty, than he could upon the nobility of the

country, who, since his return, had remained neutral spectators of the

state of affairs.

He endeavoured to screen from public notice the uneasiness which these

observations caused him; and for this purpose he assumed an extravagant

tone of gaiety, which often succeeded to blind himself, and make him

forget the precipice upon which he stood: and for the sake of

instilling confidence into the people, and into the army which he had

assembled in and about Stuttgardt, he determined to revenge himself

with double interest upon the League, for the depredations they had

committed in excursions from Esslingen. He beat and repulsed them

indeed, and wasted their territory; but when he returned in victory

from his expedition, he could not conceal from himself, that,

considering his own slender resources, the fortune of war might go

against him, when once the army of his enemies should be brought into

the field. His apprehensions were soon verified; for the rapid advance

of the League's troops towards the capital threatened the stability of

Ulerich's present doubtful position. Upon the turn of a battle, which

now seemed inevitable, depended his very existence.

Little or nothing was known in Stuttgardt of a summons which had been

sent to the Duke from the League. The court lived in its usual round of

gaiety; tranquillity and joy reigned in the town; when all of a sudden,

on the 12th, of October, the lansquenets which the Duke had encamped

near Cannstadt, a short distance from the capital, came into the town

in confusion, with the intelligence that they had been driven in by a

large force of the League. The inhabitants of Stuttgardt were now

convinced that an important crisis was at hand; they conjectured that

the Duke must long since have been aware of this threatening attack,

for he immediately assembled his officers, drew in his troops, which

were scattered about in quarters in the villages surrounding the

capital, passed his army in review, amounting to upwards of ten

thousand men, on the same evening; and in the night marched with a

large body of infantry, to reinforce the posts which a division of the

lansquenet still occupied between Esslingen and Cannstadt.

The departure of all the men, young and old, who could carry arms,

caused many a beautiful eye to weep that night, when they marched out

of Stuttgardt with the Duke, to the field of battle; but the wailing of

the women and young maidens was drowned in the warlike noise of the

marching army, resembling the sobs of a child amidst the raging of the

elements. Bertha's grief, though almost overpowering, was silent, as

she accompanied her husband to the door, where his servants awaited him

and her father with their horses. They had enjoyed the first days of

their marriage alone and in quiet, mutually engaged in the affectionate

offices of each other's happiness. Dreaming little of the future, they

thought themselves safe in the haven of uninterrupted love; and whilst

they lived but for themselves, the whisperings, the mysterious

disquietude which agitated the public mind, were unheeded by them.

Having been long accustomed to see the knight of Lichtenstein serious

and thoughtful, they did not attribute the alteration which his

features had of late assumed, to any cause beyond the natural anxiety

he was known to feel in the present state of the Duke's affairs.

Neither did they, for the same reason, apprehend any immediate disaster

to disturb their happiness, although they remarked a certain air of

fearful anticipation and despair which at times clouded his brow. The

old man witnessed the happiness of his children, and participated in

it; and, not wishing to interrupt their bliss unnecessarily, he

concealed from them his uneasiness upon the state of affairs; but at

length the threatening crisis approached. The Duke of Bavaria had

advanced into the heart of the country, and the call to arms startled

Albert out of the embrace of his beloved wife.

Nature had gifted her with a strength of mind, and a superiority of

character, which entered into every transaction of her life, and exists

only in that purity of soul which commits its dearest interests into

the hands of a higher Power, with implicit confidence. Aware of what

was due to the honour of her husband's name, and the relationship in

which he stood to the Duke, she repressed her grief, and the only

sacrifice which the infirmity of her nature offered for the many

dangers to which her beloved husband would necessarily be exposed, was

an involuntary flood of tears.

"I cannot believe, dearest Albert, that we are never to see each other

again!" she said, whilst a forced smile illumined her beautiful face:

"we have but just begun to live; heaven will not cut us off in the bud

of a happy existence; I can, therefore, part from you in tranquillity,

in the conviction that you will soon be restored to me."

Albert kissed her soft weeping eye, which dwelt upon him so full of

tenderness, and whose glance inspired him with consolation and

fortitude. In this distressing moment he thought not of the danger he

was going to encounter, his only concern was the consideration of the

affliction of the beloved being he held in his arms, should he be left

on the field of battle. The mere thought of the painful existence she

would then lead in solitude, and in the remembrance of the few days of

their bliss, unmanned him. He pressed her in his arms, as if to drive

away these agonizing ideas from his mind; he gazed with intense love

upon her endearing eye, seeking to obliterate the heart-rending

feelings of the moment; but his heart, though rent by the afflicting

struggle of separation, was inspired with hope and confidence. He at

length forced himself from her embrace.

The two knights joined the Duke at the gate leading to Cannstadt. The

night was dark, only enlivened by the dim light of the first quarter of

the moon and the host of stars. Albert observed the Duke to look

gloomy, and wrapped in deep thought. His eyes were cast down, as if to

avoid observation, and he rode on in profound silence, after he had

saluted them hastily with his hand.

There is something peculiarly solemn and striking in the night march of

an army. By day, the sun, a cheerful country, the sight of many

comrades, the change of scenery, invite the soldier to beguile time by

conversation and the merry song; and, because outward impressions

forcibly engage the attention, little is thought among them of the

object of the march, of the uncertainty of war, or of futurity, which

is veiled to no one more than to the military man. Very different is a

march by night. The hollow sound of the tread of the troops, the

regular pacing of horses, their snorting, the clatter of arms, only

break the stillness of night, whilst the mind, no longer able to dwell

on surrounding objects, impressed by these monotonous sounds, becomes

thoughtful and serious; joking and laughter cease to cheer the march,

loud talk sinks into whispering, and thought, no longer occupied with

indifferent subjects, is taken up with speculations upon what is likely

to be the result of the campaign.

Such was the complexion of the march of that night, gloomy, and

uninterrupted by any shout of animating joy. Albert rode by the side of

the old knight of Lichtenstein, occasionly casting an anxious look at

him, for he sat in his saddle as if bent down by grief, with an

expression of thoughtfulness on his countenance, more strongly marked

than he had ever noticed before. Animation seemed almost suspended, and

nothing gave indication of life in him, but an occasionally deep-drawn

sigh, or when his keen eye was raised in contemplation of the pale

moon.

"Do you think we shall have a skirmish tomorrow?" whispered Albert to

him, after a time.

"Skirmish!--we shall have a battle," was the short answer.

"How! do you really believe that the army of the League is strong

enough now to attempt to stand its ground against us? It's impossible!

Duke William must have possessed wings to have brought up his Bavarians

so soon, and we know that Fronsberg is still undecided as to his

intentions. I don't believe they have many more than six thousand men."

"Twenty thousand," answered the old knight, in an under tone of voice.

"By heavens! I had no idea of that," replied the young man in

astonishment. "We shall certainly have hard work, if that be the case;

but we have well trained and experienced troops, and the League's army

cannot boast of an eagle eye compared to the Duke's, not even excepting

Fronsberg's. With such an advantage on our side, do you not think the

chances are in our favour?"

"No," was the answer of the old man.

"Well, I'll not give up all hope. We have also a still greater

advantage in our cause: we fight for our country, whereas the views of

the League are mercenary. That circumstance alone will inspire our

troops with courage. The Wuertembergs will defend their father-land."

"That is just what I least depend upon," answered Lichtenstein. "Had

not the Duke been obstinate in forcing the country to swear to the new

oath of allegiance, the case would be far different, he would have had

the hearts of the people with him; but now, force alone compels them to

fight under his banners. The result is dubious."

"I admit what you say to be true, and that the Duke has lost much by

the imprudence of his measures," replied Albert; "but I have great

faith in the honest patriotism of the Swabians, and, in spite of

everything he has done, they will not desert their hereditary Prince in

the hour of need, and in the defence of his lawful rights. Where do you

think we shall meet the enemy? Where shall we take up a position?"

"The lansquenets have thrown up a few redoubts at Untertuerkheim,

between Esslingen and Cannstadt, and have three thousand five hundred

men there; we shall join them tonight."

The old man was silent, and they rode on for some time side by side,

without speaking.

"Hearken, Albert!" he began again; "I have often looked death in the

face, and am old enough not to fear to stand in such a predicament

again. We are all liable to the common lot of mortals. If anything

happens to me, console my dear child, Bertha!"

"Father!" cried Albert, grasping his hand, "pray do not think of such

things; you will still live long and happy with us!"

"Perhaps so," replied the old man, with a firm voice, "perhaps not. It

were folly in me to beg of you not to risk yourself too much in the

battle; you would not follow my advice; but I pray you to think of

your young wife, and do not rush into danger blindly, and without good

reason. Promise me this."

"I promise! here is my hand; where duty calls me, I cannot shrink from

it; unnecessarily I'll not expose myself; but you, also, my dear

father, must give me the same promise."

"We'll not talk about that at present. If I, by chance, am called out

of this life to-morrow, my last will, which I have placed in the Duke's

hands, will be fulfilled. Lichtenstein will pass into your possession,

and you will be invested with the property. My name will die with me in

the country; may yours live in its remembrance so much the longer!"

The young man was overcome at these last words of his high-minded,

venerable father: he endeavoured to answer him, but the rush of painful

thoughts to his mind prevented all utterance. A known voice at the

moment called him by name. It was the Duke's. He pressed the hand of

his wife's parent, and rode in haste to Ulerich.

"Good morning, Sturmfeder!" said the Duke, who appeared more cheerful;

"I say good morning, for I hear the cock crow in the village. How did

you leave your wife? was she very much overcome when you last saw her?"

"She wept," answered Albert; "but she uttered not a word of complaint."

"Just like her, by Saint Hubertus! we have seldom seen so much

fortitude in a woman. If the night were not quite so dark, I would like

to see in your eye whether your heart is tuned to the battle, and if

you are inclined to close with the Leaguists?"

"Show me but the path I am to follow, and you'll not find me swerve

from it, though it lead into the thickest of the battle. Does your

grace imagine, that, during the few days of my marriage, I have so

totally forgotten the lesson I learnt of you, namely, never to lose

courage in prosperity or adversity?"

"You are right--impavidum ferient ruinae; we expected nothing less

from our faithful banner-bearer; but another must perform that office

to-day. I have selected you for a more important service. You will take

these hundred and sixty cavalry by our side, choose one of them to show

you the way, and trot on direct to Untertuerkheim. It is possible the

road may not be open, as the Leaguists from Esslingen may have come

down to dispute the passage with us. How would you act under such

circumstances?"

"I would throw myself with my hundred and sixty horsemen among them,

and cut my way through; that is to say, if their whole force were not

in the neighbourhood. If I found them too strong, I would cover my

position, until you came up with reinforcements."

"You have well said, spoken like a valiant swordsman, and if you deal

your blows as heavily on them as you did on me at Lichtenstein, you'll

cut through six hundred Leaguists. The people I have given you are

staunch. They are composed of the butchers, saddlers, and blacksmiths

of Stuttgardt and the surrounding towns. I know them in many a hard

fight. Brave, and able to sever the skull down to the breast bone, they

will follow you, sword in hand, wherever you may lead them, when once

they are well inclined towards you; let them have but one good blow at

the brain, no doctor's hand need attempt a cure. That's the right sort

of Swabian cut."

"Am I to take post at Untertuerkheim?"

"You will find there the lansquenet under George von Hewen and

Schweinsberg encamped on a hill. The watchword is, 'Ulerich for

ever!' Tell them they must keep the position till five o'clock; before

day-break I shall be with them with six thousand men, and then will

await the Leaguists. Farewell, Albert!"

The young man returned the salute by bowing respectfully, and putting

himself at the head of the gallant band, trotted down the valley with

them. The men were powerful figures, broad shouldered and well limbed,

whose animated fearless looks beheld their young leader with

satisfaction, as he placed himself in their front, and appeared

honoured by his command. Having run his eye rapidly through the ranks,

he selected one whose penetrating eye and intelligent countenance

seemed to point him out as the fittest person to act the part of guide.

He immediately called him to his side, and gave him the necessary

directions. They approached the foot of the Rothenberg, on the summit

of which stood the hereditary castle of the house of Wuertemberg,

commanding an extended view over the valley of the Neckar. It was but

faintly illumined by the glimmer of the stars, and Albert could not

distinctly distinguish its form, though he kept his eyes fixed upon its

towers and walls. He recollected that night in the cavern, when the

Duke spoke in sorrow of the castle of his ancestors, and described the

country seen from its towers as abounding in corn, wine, and fruit, all

of which he once could call his own. The young man sank into reflection

upon the unhappy fate of the Duke, which now again appeared to contend

with him for the possession of his patrimony. He dwelt upon the

extraordinary mixture in his character, the foundation of which was

truly great, but was too often disturbed by rage, malice, and unbending

pride. "If you look between those two trees, you will be able to

distinguish the points of the towers of Untertuerkheim," said the man,

who was conducting him on the road. "The road is much more level now,

and if we push on, we shall soon be there."

Albert spurred his horse, and the rest following his example, soon

gained sight of the village. A double line of lansquenet was stationed

outside of it, who at their approach presented their halberds in

fearful array, whilst the red glimmer of burning matches was seen

scattered about in many points, like the glow-worm sparkling in the

night.

"Who comes there?" cried a deep voice from the ranks: "Give the

watch-word!"

"Ulericus for ever," answered Albert von Sturmfeder: "who are you?"

"Good friends!" answered Maxx Stumpf Schweinsberg, stepping out of the

ranks of the lansquenet, and riding towards the young man. "Good

morning, Albert; you have kept us waiting somewhat long. We have been

all night upon our legs, anxiously expecting a reinforcement, for in

the wood there over against us it does not look pleasant, and if

Fronsberg had been aware of his advantage, he might have overpowered us

long ago."

"The Duke is coming up with six thousand men," replied Sturmfeder, "and

will be here in two hours at furthest."

"Six thousand only, did you say? by Saint Nepomuk, that's not enough!

we have but three thousand five hundred here, so that all we can muster

in the field will make little more than nine thousand. Are you aware

that the Leaguists are over twenty thousand strong? What artillery does

the Duke bring with him?"

"I don't know--it was only just arrived when we departed," replied

Albert.

"Well, come, and let the men dismount, and take some rest," said Maxx

Stumpf; "they'll have work enough this day."

The cavalry dismounted, and laid down to rest. The lansquenet also were

permitted to fall out of their ranks, leaving strong piquets on the

heights, and on the Neckar. Maxx Stumpf gave all the necessary

directions for the remainder of the night; and Albert von Sturmfeder,

rolling himself in his cloak, also laid down to repose himself from the

fatigues of the past twenty-four hours, and refresh himself for the

coming strife. The stillness of the morning, broken only by the

monotonous tone of the sentry's call, soon lulled him to sleep, with

the last thought directed in prayer to God, into whose hands he

resigned himself and his beloved wife.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

Enveloped in the smoke,

Both man and horse are hidden;

Away they now have broke,

Now down the hill have ridden:

Across the Neckar springs the steed so good,

And in the valley is the fight renew'd.

G. SCHWAB.

Albert was roused a little before break of day by the roll of drums,

calling the little band to arms. A small border of light was visible on

the horizon, the advanced guard of day, when the troops of the Duke

were seen coming up in the distance. The young man put on his helmet

and armour, mounted his horse, and, at the head of his men, waited to

receive the Duke. The stern features of Ulerich had lost none of their

thoughtful expression, though all traces of gloom had disappeared from

them. From his eyes beamed a warlike fire, and his countenance bespoke

courage and determination. Clad entirely in steel, he wore a green

cloak, trimmed with gold, over his heavy armour, whilst the colours of

his house waved in the large floating plumes of his helmet. The rest of

his dress differed in nothing from that of the knights and nobles about

him, who, all clad in polished steel, "up to the eyes," formed a circle

around the Duke. They saluted Hewen, Schweinsberg, and Sturmfeder in a

friendly way, and made inquiries about the position of the enemy.

Nothing was as yet to be seen of the troops of the League, except on

the border of the wood towards Esslingen, where a few straggling

out-posts were observed to be stationed. The Duke determined to quit

the height which the lansquenet occupied, and take up a position in the

plain beneath. His army being much inferior in cavalry to the League,

who, according to the reports of spies, could muster three thousand

horses, he hoped the flanks of this position, having the Neckar on one

side and a thick wood on the other, which he intended to take up in the

valley, would make up for the deficiency in numbers.

Though the opinion of Lichtenstein, with many others, was against this

plan, fearing the army would be exposed to the fire of artillery from

the surrounding heights, Ulerich would not be dissuaded from it, and

ordered the army to march accordingly. Having arranged his order of

battle close to the town of Tuerkheim, he there awaited his enemy.

Albert von Sturmfeder was directed to remain near him with the cavalry,

which had been entrusted to his command, to be ready to strike a

decisive blow, and at the same time to form his body guard; whilst

Lichtenstein, with four-and-twenty other knights, joined themselves to

this mounted body of burghers, ready to support them in the event of an

attack of cavalry. In those days a battle was often an affair of so

many single-handed combats. The knights who followed an army seldom

fought in solid masses; but with a quick eye, they marked out an

adversary from among the ranks of the enemy, rode at him, and fought

him with lance and sword. Such a band of gallant men, headed by old

Lichtenstein, was that which now closed with Albert's troop. The Duke

himself, burning with the desire of wielding his powerful arm, and

proving the renown of his far-famed prowess in single combat, was only

controlled in this romantic idea by the pressing exhortations of his

friends. A most extraordinary figure was seen to keep his station by

the side of the Duke, in appearance more like a tortoise on horseback,

than a human being. A helmet, with a large feather, protruded high

above a small body, upon the back of which sat an arched coat of mail.

The little horseman's knees were bent high up on the saddle, whilst his

hand kept a fast hold of the pummel. The closed vizor of the unknown

knight concealed his face from Albert's observation; who, curious to

ascertain who the ridiculous looking warrior might be, rode up to the

Duke to satisfy himself, and said:

"Upon my word, your highness has provided yourself with a marvellous

looking animal as a guide. Only observe his withered legs, his

trembling arm, the enormous helmet between his shoulders;--who may this

pigmy be?"

"Don't you recognize the hump?" asked the Duke, laughing. "Just observe

the extraordinary coat of mail he has on; it is for all the world like

a large nutshell, to protect his back, in case he has to run for it. He

is my faithful chancellor, Ambrosius Bolland."

"By the holy Virgin! what an unjust opinion I have formed of him,"

replied Albert; "I never thought he would have drawn a sword or mounted

a horse, and there he sits upon a beast as big as an elephant, and

carries a sword as long as himself. I never should have given him

credit for so martial a spirit."

"Do you suppose it is his own free-will which impels him to attend me

in the field? No, I have been obliged by force to make him follow me.

Having pushed me to extremities against my will, in order to satisfy

his wicked intentions, which I fear has placed me upon the brink of a

precipice, he shall partake of the soup himself which he has cooked for

me. He wept when I insisted on his coming with me; complaining of his

gout, and other infirmities, saying his nature was not military; but I

made him buckle on his armour, and put him on a horse, the most fiery

beast in my stable. He shall have the bitters as well as the sweets of

his counsel."

During this discourse the knight of the hump threw open his vizor, and

discovered his pale affrighted countenance. The eternal hypocritical

smile had vanished, his piercing little eyes had swollen beyond their

ordinary size, and assumed a staring look, turning slowly and timidly

from side to side; a cold perspiration sat upon his forehead, and his

voice had softened down into a trembling whisper. "For the mercy of

God, most worthy Albert von Sturmfeder, most beloved friend and

benefactor," said he, "pray say a good word for me to our obdurate

master, that he may release me from this masquerading gambol. The ride

in this heavy armour has most cruelly tormented me, the helmet presses

on my brain, setting all my thoughts on the dance, and my knees are

bent with the gout. Pray, pray do! say a kind word for your humble

servant, Ambrosius Bolland; I will certainly repay it ten-fold."

The young man turned away in disgust, from the cowardly sinner. "My

Lord Duke," said he, whilst a blush of high-minded scorn and contempt

coloured his cheeks, "permit him to go. The knights have drawn their

swords, and pressed their helmets firmer on their foreheads; the people

shake their spears, impatient for the signal of attack; why, then,

should a coward be counted among the ranks of men?"

"He remains, I say," replied the Duke, with a stern voice; "the first

step he makes to the rear, I'll cut him down from his horse. The devil

sat upon your blue lips, Ambrosius Bolland, when you advised us to

despise our people, and subvert the laws of the land. This day, when

the balls whiz and swords clatter, shall you know whether your counsel

has proved of advantage to us or not."

The chancellor's eyes beamed with rage, his lips trembled, and his

whole countenance was fearfully distorted. "I only gave you my

advice,--why did you follow it?" said he; "you are the Duke and master;

you gave the orders for swearing the oath of allegiance,--how could I

help it?"

The Duke, in anger at these words, turned his horse with such velocity

towards him, that the chancellor, expecting his last moment was come,

bent himself down in trepidation on his horse's mane. "By our princely

honour," he cried, with a terrible voice, his eyes flashing fire, "we

are astonished at our own forbearance. You took advantage of the

blindness of our anger, when first we re-entered our capital; you knew

too well how to ingratiate yourself into our confidence. Had we not

followed your counsel, thou serpent, we should have had twenty thousand

Wuertemberg hearts as a wall to defend their Prince. Oh! my Wuertemberg!

my Wuertemberg! Had I but followed the advice of my old friend! There is

indeed a charm in the love of my people!"

"Away with these thoughts," said the old knight of Lichtenstein. "We

are on the eve of battle; all is not yet lost; we have still time to

repair the wrongs we have committed. You are surrounded by six thousand

Wuertembergers, and, by heavens! they will be victorious, if you lead

them with confidence to the enemy. We are all friends here, my Lord!

forgive your enemies; dismiss your chancellor, who can be of no service

to you, he cannot use a sword."

"No! remain by my side, thou tortoise! dog of a scribe!" said the Duke.

"Seated in your office, you wrote laws with your own hand, and despised

my people, you shall now witness how they can fight; how a Wuertemberger

can conquer or----die. Ha! do you see them on the height there? do you

see the flag with the red cross? there's the banner of Bavaria; how

their arms glisten in the dawn of the morning, and their helmet plumes

wave in the breeze! Good morning, gentlemen of the Swabian League; that

is a sight for a Wuertemberger! how my heart gladdens at it!"

"Look! they are preparing their artillery," interrupted Lichtenstein;

"you must not remain on this spot, my Lord, your life is in danger; go

back, go back; send us your orders from yonder tree, (pointing to one

at a distance,) where you will be in safety; this position belongs to

us alone."

The Duke turned to him, and answered, with an air of proud dignity,

"Where did you ever hear that a Wuertemberger retreated when the enemy

had sounded the attack? My ancestors never knew what fear was, and

their posterity shall also, like them, never betray the motto,

'Fearless and true!' Observe how the brow of the mountain becomes

darker and darker with their numerous bodies of men. Do you see that

white cloud on yonder hill, tortoise? do you hear it crack? that's the

thunder of artillery, that pours into our ranks. If you have a clear

conscience at this moment, make up your accounts with this world; for

no one would give a penny for your life."

"Let us say a prayer," said Maxx von Schweinsberg, "and then at them,

in God's name."

The Duke piously raised his hands and eyes towards heaven, and his

companions following his example, they said their prayers, imploring

the aid of the Almighty in the justice of their cause. This was the

general custom of the good old times, before the battle commenced. The

thunder of the enemy's artillery contrasted terribly with the deep

silence which reigned about this group, now engaged in soliciting God's

protection. Each appeared deeply impressed with the solemnity of the

few moments which were perhaps left to them in this world, except the

chancellor Ambrosius Bolland, who clasped his hands, whilst his eyes

were not directed in faith to heaven, but wandered to the enemy's

heights. His trembling body, as he observed the fire and smoke of each

gun from the League, proved that his soul was not leaning upon Him who

makes his sun to shine upon the good and upon the evil.

When Ulerich von Wuertemberg and those around him had finished their

solemn duty, he drew his sword, which was immediately followed by the

rest, and in a moment a thousand blades glittered in the sun. "The

lansquenet are already engaged," said he, casting his eagle eye rapidly

down the valley. He now issued his orders with a cool determined voice,

and, addressing George von Hewen, directed him to support them with a

thousand infantry. Turning then to Schweinsberg, he said, "Take eight

hundred men to the skirt of the wood, and remain there till further

directions. Reinhart von Gemmingen, march with your division, and take

position in the middle space between the wood and the Neckar. And you,

Albert von Sturmfeder, remain here with your brigade of cavalry, and be

ready to advance at a moment's notice. And now may God be with you all,

my friends! Should we be destined not to see each other again in this

world, we shall meet the sooner in the next." He saluted them by

lowering his immense sword. The knights returned it, and advanced with

their respective bodies of men towards the enemy, rending the air with

loud vivas of "Ulerich for ever!"

The army of the League having taken up the ground which the Duke's men

had shortly before occupied, saluted their enemy from the mouths of

several pieces of heavy ordnance, moving slowly down into the valley,

with the apparent intention of crushing them by superior numbers. At

the moment when their last division had quitted this position, the Duke

turned to Albert von Sturmfeder, and said, "Do you see those guns on

the height?"

"Yes, and they are supported by a very few men apparently," he

answered.

"Fronsberg supposes that because we cannot fly over to him, it would be

impossible to take his pieces. But there is a path in the wood there,"

said the Duke, pointing with his hand, "which leads to the left, into a

field, which field skirts the hill. If you advance cautiously with your

cavalry, and follow the path, you will get almost into the rear of the

enemy. And if you succeed, pull up your horses a moment to give them

wind, and then gallop up the hill, and their artillery is ours."

Albert bowed to him at parting, whilst the Duke gave him his hand.

"Farewell, young man," said he; "it grieves us to send so young a

married man upon such dangerous service; but we know of none other

better calculated or more determined than yourself to perform it."

The cheeks of the young hero glowed with ardour when he heard these

words, and his eyes bespoke confidence in the bold enterprise he was

about to undertake. "I thank you, my lord, for this new proof of your

consideration," he replied; "you do me a greater kindness than if you

had endowed me with one of your most valuable estates. Farewell,

father," turning to old Lichtenstein, "remember me to my beloved wife."

"I don't mean to let you go alone," replied the old knight, smiling:

"I'll accompany you. Under your conduct----"

"No, remain with me, old friend," entreated the Duke; "do you wish me

to follow the chancellor's counsel in the field also? He might lead me

into a much worse scrape than he has already done. Stay by my side, old

man; make a hasty farewell with your son, for there is not a moment to

lose."

The old knight pressed the hand of the young man, who returned it

smiling, and, in a cheerful mood, placed himself at the head of his

gallant band, when he galloped away with the Stuttgardt burghers,

leading them towards the enemy in this critical moment, crying,

"Ulerich for ever!" Having reached the skirt of the wood, he had a

moment's leisure to run his eye over the field of battle. The

Wuertembergers were in very good position, their flanks being covered by

the wood and the Neckar, and their centre arranged in such a manner as

to be able to repel any serious charge of cavalry. It was therefore

evident, that any alteration in their present line of battle would

subject them to extreme danger. The great disadvantage under which they

laboured was the fact of their being inferior to their enemy by

two-thirds of the number of combatants and though the Leaguists were

unable to bring their whole force into action at once, in consequence

of the confined space of the valley, their superiority of numbers

compensated for the want of room to man[oe]uvre in, which consideration

alone required the most strenuous exertions of Ulerich's small band to

maintain their ground. They, indeed, with such fearful odds against

them, kept their line unbroken, and their courage appeared to rise

still higher as their ranks began to thin. But, though the brave

Swabians valiantly disputed every inch of ground, it was to be

apprehended lest, by dint of renewed attacks by fresh troops, they

would ultimately be forced to give way.

These fleeting observations which Albert had been enabled to make,

convinced him that upon some daring piece of service depended the

success of the day. The energies of his mind rose in proportion to the

difficulties he had to contend with. He felt that Ulerich's destiny was

now in his keeping, and that one bold stroke, such as he was about to

undertake, would decide the fate of the contest.

His troop having now reached the wood, they proceeded through it in

silence and with caution, aware of the advantage which infantry possess

over cavalry under such circumstances. But they arrived at the point

leading to the field which the Duke had described, without molestation.

To the right beyond the wood the battle raged in full fury. The cheers

of the attacking part, the roar of artillery and small arms, the noise

of the drums, echoed terribly through its trees.

The hill lay before them, from the summit of which several pieces of

heavy artillery played upon the ranks of the Wuertembergers. The path to

the top of it, leading up from the side of the wood, being of gentle

ascent, Albert was astonished at the quick eye of the Duke in having

discovered the only weak part of the enemy's position, every other

point of it being unassailable, at least by cavalry. The guns, as far

as he could observe from the place where he stood, were not supported

by any considerable force, and, therefore, as soon as the horses had

rested a few moments, Albert sounded the charge, and, putting himself

at their head, galloped up the hill in gallant style, and reached the

summit in an instant, calling to the enemy to surrender. The

consternation of the Leaguist troops in thus finding their enemies

suddenly among them, paralysed all their means of defence; whilst the

brave butchers, saddlers, and blacksmiths of Stuttgardt, taking

advantage of their confusion, dealt out the true Swabian cut on the

heads of their adversaries, and in a short time reduced the covering

party to a small number. Albert threw a triumphant look down the plain

towards the Duke; he heard the exulting shouts wafted to him from the

throats of many thousand Wuertembergers, and saw them advance with

renewed courage, being now relieved from the galling fire of the

artillery on the hill.

He was obliged, however, to check this momentary joy of victory, in

consideration of his retreat, the second and most difficult operation

of the gallant undertaking; for the Leaguists, having observed the

sudden cessation of their artillery, had ordered a powerful body of

cavalry to charge the hill. As there was no time to bring away the

captured guns, he quickly ordered his men to fill them with stones and

earth, rendering them by this means unserviceable, and then casting his

eye towards the line of retreat, he perceived he would have to contend

with difficulties he had not anticipated. To retrace the path through

the wood by which, he had advanced was his first thought, for, were it

even occupied by the enemy's cavalry, he would meet them upon equal

terms. But, to his dismay, as he was about to put it into execution, he

observed that a large body of the Leaguist infantry had already gained

the wood to cut off his passage through it, rendering it thereby

impossible for him to join his comrades by that road. To attempt to cut

through the enemy's army with only one hundred and sixty horsemen,

would seem to be absolute madness. The only alternative left to him,

therefore,--and it was one more likely to lead to death than

deliverance,--was to make direct for the Neckar, which flowed between

him and his friends, and pass it by swimming across. Desperate as this

only resource of escape was, he determined to act upon it without loss

of time, and once having gained the banks of the river, he thought the

passage of it might be easily accomplished. By these means he might

hope to join the Duke; though it was but a forlorn hope. Five hundred

men of the Leaguist cavalry had by this time reached the foot of the

hill upon which he stood. He thought he recognized Truchses von

Waldburg at their head, and rather than surrender to him, he would

willingly have suffered death.

He gave the signal to his gallant Wuertembergers to follow him down the

side of the hill which led to the banks of the river. They staggered at

the fearful expedient, for it was scarcely to be expected that a fifth

part of them would escape, so steep was the descent, and besides which,

between the hill and the river stood a large body of the enemy's

infantry, ready to receive them. But their gallant young leader,

throwing open his vizor, discovered to them his noble countenance,

beaming with the inspiration of heroic magnanimity. The whole troop

were animated by the same bold spirit, and when they recollected they

had seen him but a few weeks back leading a beautiful maiden to the

altar, and that he had left this endearing object behind him, for the

sake of his Duke and country, they vociferated in loud shouts the

practices of their several vocations. "At them!" cried the butchers,

"we'll slaughter them like oxen;" "And we'll hammer them like hot

iron," cried the blacksmiths; and the saddlers vociferated "They

shall be beat as soft as leather." "Ulerich for ever!" cried their

bold-hearted leader, who putting spurs to his horse, was the first to

gallop down the dangerous declivity. The enemy's cavalry could scarcely

believe their eyes when they arrived at the top of the hill, in

expectation of capturing their daring adversaries, and saw them hotly

engaged with their infantry at the bottom of it. This bold step of

Albert's cost many a brave man his life: many were thrown from their

horses, and fell into the hands of the Leaguists; but the major part,

arriving safely at the foot of the hill, were engaged hand to hand with

the enemy, and the helmet plumes of their leader were seen to wave high

in the midst of the fray. The ranks of the infantry were soon broken by

the impetuous charge of the Wuertembergers, who now pushed for the bank

of the Neckar, and following their leader, dashed into the water to

cross it. Though his horse was a powerful beast he had not strength

sufficient to bear the weight of his rider, clad in armour, nor to stem

its stream, at present swollen beyond its ordinary height by heavy

rains. He was on the point of sinking, calling to his men not to think

of him, but to push on to the Duke, and give him his last farewell,

when at this critical moment two gallant blacksmiths, having

disencumbered themselves of their horses, seized the young knight, one

by his arms, and the other taking his horse's bridle, landed him in

safety on the opposite bank.

The Leaguists sent many a shot after their flying enemy, but

fortunately they fell harmless. In the sight of both armies, this

daring band continued its further route unmolested to the Duke. Having

passed a deep ford, not far from the spot where Ulerich was stationed,

they were received with loud shouts of joy and applause by their

companions.

Though a considerable part of the enemy's artillery had been rendered

unserviceable by the no less bold than rapid attack of Albert von

Sturmfeder, such was the unhappy fate of Duke Ulerich, that even this

brilliant feat of arms could not avert the spell which seemed to hang

over his destiny. The strength of his people began to fail under

renewed attacks of superior numbers. In spite of the experience and

bravery of the lansquenets, who gave proofs of the honesty of their

promises to the Duke, and though they continued to uphold their

accustomed warlike character, and did not cede an inch of ground, the

loss they had sustained obliged their commanders to form them into

circles to repel the charges of cavalry. The line of battle being

thereby broken, the vacant spaces were but feebly filled up and

sustained by the country people, badly armed, and worse soldiers,

having been brought into the field in haste, and almost without

discipline. At this critical moment intelligence arrived of the Duke of

Bavaria having suddenly surprised and taken possession of Stuttgardt,

that a fresh army was coming up in the rear, and was scarcely a quarter

of an hour's distance off. This news was a death-blow to the Duke's

hopes, who now perceived there was nothing left to him but flight or

death to prevent his falling into the hands of his enemies. What was to

be done in this emergency? His followers advised him to throw himself

into the hereditary castle of the house of Wuertemberg, and there remain

until he could find an opportunity secretly to escape. He turned his

eyes towards the place, his last resource, which, lighted up by the

brilliancy of the day, seemed to look down in stern majesty upon the

valley, where the descendant of him who raised it had staked his last

hope in one desperate conflict. But when he saw the red flag playing in

the morning breeze over the towers and walls of his castle, he turned

pale, and pointing to it, was unable to give utterance to the painful

feelings which the sight occasioned. The knights directing their

attention to it, discovered a black smoke issuing from all corners, a

proof that the victorious flag had been planted on its pinnacle amidst

the flames lighted up by an avenging enemy. Wuertemberg now burnt at

every point, and her unhappy master witnessed the spectacle in ghastly

despair. Both armies also noticed the burning castle. The Leaguists

saluted the event with loud shouts of exulting joy, whilst the courage

of the Wuertembergers sank in proportion, and viewed the sad sight as

the setting sun of the Duke's prosperity.

The drums of the army advancing in the rear were now heard distinctly

approaching towards them; the armed peasantry, in many places, began to

give way, when Ulerich said, in a firm, voice, addressing those

immediately about him, "Whoever means honourably by us, follow me,

we'll cut our way through their hosts, or fall in the attempt. Take my

banner in your hand, valiant Sturmfeder, and charge their ranks with

us." Albert seized the flag of Wuertemberg, the Duke placed himself by

his side, the knights and burghers on horseback surrounded them, and

prepared to open a passage for their lord. The Duke pointed to a weak

position in the enemy's line, which appeared the one most favourable to

ensure the success of the daring project; if the attempt failed, all

was lost. Albert volunteered for the desperate post of honour of

leading the determined band; but the old knight of Lichtenstein,

beckoning to him not to quit the Duke's side, placed himself boldly in

front, and directing one more glance to his lord and son, closed his

vizor, and cried, "Forwards! Here's to good Wuertemberg for ever!"

About two hundred horsemen composed the resolute band, which moved on

in a trot, arranged in the form of a wedge. The chancellor Ambrosius

Bolland's heart beat lighter when they departed, for the Duke, amidst

the anxieties of the moment, had quite lost sight of him, and he now

held council with himself how he could most conveniently dismount from

his long-legged steed. The noble beast, however, with upstanding ears

and restless motion had noticed the departure of the cavalry. So long

as they moved on in gentle trot, he remained tolerably quiet. But when

the trumpets sounded the attack, and the gallant crew broke into a

gallop with Wuertemberg's banner waving high above the helmet plumes,

this appeared to be the moment which the chancellor's high metaled

steed had been anticipating, for with the rapidity of a bird, he

stretched over the plain in the track of the other horsemen. His rider,

almost deprived of his senses, and his hand seizing the pummel of his

saddle in a state of convulsion, attempted to halloo, but the rapidity

with which he cut through the air hindered all further utterance.

Though the Duke and his friends had gained some considerable distance

from him, the chancellor soon overtook, and then passing them, found

himself, much against his will, the leading man in the desperate

encounter which was about to take place. The attention of the enemy was

riveted to the extraordinary figure of the chancellor, which appeared

more like an ape in armour than a warrior on horseback, and before they

could make out what he was, his steed had carried him into the midst of

their ranks. The spectacle was so highly ridiculous, that the

Wuertembergers, notwithstanding this moment was for them one of life or

death, broke out into loud laughter, which, spreading confusion among

the troops of the League, composed of those of Ulm, Gmuend, Aulen,

Nuernberg, and other imperial cities, allowed the overpowering weight of

the two hundred horses, carrying the chancellor along with them, to

break through, and gain the rear of their enemies. They pushed on their

march in haste, and before the Leaguist cavalry could be sent in

pursuit, the Duke, with his followers, had already gained a long start,

and turned off the field of battle by a side path.

The mounted burghers having covered the retreat of the Duke, he

effected his escape with a few faithful adherents, whilst they directed

their route towards Stuttgardt. The enemy's cavalry only came up with

them just as they had reached the gates of the city, when great was

their disappointment not to capture either the Duke or any of his

principal partisans, whom they expected to find among them. Ambrosius

Bolland was their only prize. He, more dead than alive from excessive

fright and fatigue, was not able to dismount from his elevated position

without assistance. After having peeled his body of its unaccustomed

covering, the Leaguists vented their rage and disappointment upon the

unfortunate man, by beating him and other ill-usage; for they

attributed to his supposed bravery, which appeared to them to exceed

all they had ever witnessed, the loss of a thousand gold florins, set

as a reward upon the capture of the Duke. And so it happened that the

gallant chancellor, not like his master beaten in battle, was beaten

after it.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Think on the many gallant deeds

_One_ valiant hand has done,

And follow where your country needs,

Where a hero's grave is won.

Here, here they flee! pursue the way they go:

The light of heaven shows our flying foe.

L. UHLAND.

The Duke and his followers passed the night after the day of the

decisive battle in a narrow deep ravine of a wood, which, being

surrounded by high rocks and thick underwood, offered a safe retreat

for the moment, and is called, to this day, "Ulerich's cavern," by the

people of the country. It was the fifer of Hardt who appeared again as

a saviour in their flight, and led them to this place, known only to

the peasantry and shepherds of the neighbourhood. The Duke determined

to repose in this secluded spot, and, as soon as the following day

broke, to continue his flight towards Switzerland. He would have

preferred continuing his route under cover of the night, as being more

favourable to elude the vigilance of his enemies. The fate of the

disastrous day having given them full possession of the country again,

it seemed next to impossible to escape through their numerous patroles,

which would now scour the country to intercept his retreat. Delay was

therefore dangerous; but the horses being unable to proceed after the

heat and fatigue of the battle, he was compelled by necessity to run

the risk of taking a short rest.

The party seated themselves around a small fire. Sleep soon came to the

Duke's aid, and for awhile made him forget that he had again lost his

dukedom. The knight of Lichtenstein also slept. Maxx Stumpf von

Schweinsberg, resting his arms on his knees, concealed his face in both

hands, and it was uncertain whether he dosed, or whether he was

sorrowing over the fate of his unhappy master, which the day's battle

had so cruelly decided. Albert von Sturmfeder, though almost

overpowered with fatigue, resisted the power of sleep, and, being the

youngest of the party, volunteered to keep watch. Beside him sat his

faithful friend, the fifer of Hardt, his eyes fixed steadfastly on the

fire, and appeared to concentrate his thoughts in the words of a song,

whose melancholy strain he hummed to himself with a soft suppressed

voice. When the fire blazed up occasionally a little brisker, he cast a

sorrowful look at the Duke, to see if he still slept, and then

recommenced the same lamentable dirge.

"You are singing a very melancholy strain, Hans!" said Albert, whose

attention was excited by the peculiar tones of the song: "it sounds

like a death song or mourning dirge; I can't listen to it without

shuddering."

"Death may knock at every man's door at any moment," replied the fifer,

looking still more gloomily at the fire; "I like to occupy my mind upon

such subjects, for it often strikes me, I would prefer going out of

this world with similar thoughts in my mind."

"But how is it you think more upon death at this moment than at other

times, Hans? You were always a merry fellow at harvest time; and your

guitar never failed being heard at a wake. You certainly never sang a

death-song on such occasions."

"My happiness is gone," he answered, and pointed to the Duke; "all my

anxieties and troubles have been in vain. His star is set, and I----I

am his shadow; therefore nothing is left for me. If I had not a wife

and child, I would willingly die this very night."

"You were, indeed, his faithful shadow," said the young man, moved at

these words: "I have always admired your fidelity. Listen, Hans! it

will perhaps be some time before we see each other again; and having

now time and opportunity to converse together, tell me, if it be not

too much to ask, what has bound you so close and exclusively to the

fortunes of the Duke?"

The man was silent a few minutes, and trimmed the burning embers of the

fire. A troubled look beamed in his eyes, leaving Albert in doubt

whether he had not touched upon a subject which was painful to his

friend, whose countenance he thought was tinged with a passing blush.

"That question," he at length replied, "refers to a certain occurrence,

which I never willingly speak about. But you are right, sir, in your

conjecture, and it appears to me also that we shall not meet again for

some time; therefore I will satisfy your curiosity. Have you ever heard

of the insurrection called, 'Poor Conrad'?"

"O, yes!" replied Albert, "the report spread far beyond Franconia. Was

it not an insurrection of the peasantry? It was said, they wanted even

to take the Duke's life!" I----

"You are perfectly right, the affair of Conrad was a bad thing. About

seven years ago many men among us peasantry were dissatisfied with our

landlords; great distress prevailed throughout the country, in

consequence of the failure of the crops. The rich had squandered all

their money; the poor had long since no more left, but still we were

obliged to pay heavy taxes without end, in order to satisfy the

exorbitant demands of the Duke's court, where every luxury was carried

on in the midst of an impoverished country."

"Did your representatives accede to these extravagant demands?"

inquired the young man.

"They did not always venture to say no; for, the Duke's purse having an

enormous large hole in it, they had no other means of repairing it than

by the sweat of our brow. Many, therefore, struck work, because, said

they, 'the corn which we sow, does not grow for our bread, and the wine

we make, does not flow into our casks.' They then thought, as nothing

more could be taken from them than their lives, that they would live

merrily and without care, and calling themselves counts of 'no home,'

spoke of their many castles on the 'hungry mountain,' of their wealthy

possessions in 'the land of famine' and on the banks of the 'river of

beggary.' This was the origin of the insurrection named 'The League of

Poor Conrad.'"

The fifer of Hardt laid his head in his hand in deep thought, and was

silent.

"But you promised to relate to me your adventures with the Duke," said

Albert.

"I had nearly forgotten that," he answered: "well," he continued,

"persecution was at length brought to such a pass, that even the

weights and measures were decreased in size and quantity, so that the

Duke and his courtiers might be the gainers at our expense. We paid the

same for a less quantity. The consequence of this species of tyranny

gave rise to a circumstance which, commencing at first in mere joke,

became a source of bitter hatred and revenge. Many could not bear the

thought of this act of flagrant injustice, by which every one else had

full weight and measure, whilst we alone, the peasantry, were the

sufferers. Poor Conrad carried the weights into the valley of the Rems,

and made a proof by water."

"A proof by water,--what's that?" asked the young man.

"Ha!" laughed Hans, "that is an easy way of proving a thing. A stone of

a pound weight was paraded to the sound of drum and fife to the banks

of the Kerns, and they said, 'if it swims, the Duke is right; if it

sinks, the peasant is right.' The stone sank, and Poor Conrad armed

himself. All the peasants then rose in the vallies of the Rems and

Neckar, and throughout all the country up to Tuebingen far over the Alb,

and demanded the old laws. The members of the diet were assembled and

harangued them, but all to no purpose, they would not disperse."

"But you--what part did you take? You; don't say a word about

yourself," said Albert.

"That's said in a very few words," replied Hans: "I was one of the most

violent among them. Never being much inclined to work, and having been

inhumanly punished for transgressing the game laws, I joined Poor

Conrad, and soon became as desperate as Gaispeter and Bregenzer. The

Duke, seeing that the insurrection was becoming dangerous, came himself

to Schorndorf. We had been called to that place for the purpose of

swearing allegiance. Many hundreds appeared, but all armed. Ulerich

addressed us himself; but we would not hear him. The marshal of the

empire then stood up, and raising his gold staff said, 'He who holds to

Duke Ulerich von Wuertemberg, let him come over to his side!' Gaispeter

also stepping upon a large stone, cried, 'He who holds to Poor Conrad

of Hungry Hill, come over here!' The Duke stood alone among his

servants, deserted by his people: we, the opposite party, remained with

the beggar."

"Oh, what a shameful transaction," cried Albert, moved by a feeling of

the injustice which caused it, "but more particularly so in those who

allowed it to go to such lengths! I'll be bound Ambrosius Bolland, the

chancellor, was mostly to blame in it."

"You are not far wrong," replied the fifer; "but hear me. When the Duke

saw that all was lost, he threw himself on his horse. We crowded about

him, but no one was bold enough to touch his person, for we were

staggered by his commanding look. 'What is it you want, you scum of the

earth?' he cried, and giving his horse the spur, made him bound in the

air, by which three men were knocked down. This awakened our fury; the

people laid hold of the horse's reins, they thrusted at him with their

spears, and I so far forgot myself as to seize him by the mantle,

crying, 'Shoot the villain dead!'"

"Was that you, Hans?" cried Albert, and eyed him with a look of horror.

"That was I," he uttered slowly and in a subdued tone, evidently

suffering from the recollection of the deed. "But the Duke escaped from

us, and assembled a force which we were not able to contend with, and

we surrendered unconditionally. Twelve leaders of the insurrection were

conducted to Schorndorf, tried and condemned; I was one of them. When I

was in prison, with leisure to think of the wrong I had done, and

contemplate the approach of death, I shuddered at myself, and was

ashamed of being associated with such miserable fellows as the other

eleven were."

"But how were you saved?" asked Albert.

"In the way I have already related to you in Ulm; by a miracle. We

twelve were conducted to the market-place, for the purpose of being

beheaded. The Duke was seated in front of the town-hall, and ordered us

to be brought before him again. My eleven companions threw themselves

on their knees, causing the noise of their chains to resound through

the air, crying for mercy in pitiable tones. He fixed his eyes upon

them for some time, and then, observing that I alone remained silent,

said, 'Why do not you beg for pardon also?' 'My Lord,' I answered, 'I

know what I deserve: may God hare mercy on my soul!' Without saying a

word, he looked at us some time longer, and then made a sign to the

executioner. We were brought up to the scaffold according to our ages;

and I being the youngest, was the last. I remember little more of that

terrible moment; but I shall never forget the frightful sound of the

axe when it severed the heads from the bodies of the culprits."

"For God's sake, say no more on the subject!" Albert requested; "but

pass on to the rest of the story."

"Nine heads were stuck upon the points of spears, when the Duke cried,

'Ten shall bleed, but two shall be pardoned. Let dice be brought: he

who throws the lowest number in three throws, loses his head.' The

dice-box was given to me first, but I said, 'I have forfeited my life,

and I will not gamble for it.' The Duke said, 'Well; I'll throw for

you.' The box was then handed to the other two. They shook the dice

with cold trembling hand, and threw. One counted nine, and the other

fourteen; the Duke then seized the box, and shook it. He looked at me

hard in the face, but I did not tremble. He threw, and covered the dice

with his hand. 'Beg for mercy,' said he, 'there is still time.' 'I pray

you to pardon the rash act,' I answered, 'but I beg not for mercy,

because I don't deserve it.' He raised his hand; and behold, he counted

eighteen! The effect it produced on me was indescribable; I thought the

Duke sat in God's stead in judgment. I fell upon my knees, and vowed to

live and die in his service. The tenth man was beheaded, and two of us

saved."

Albert had listened to the tale of the fifer of Hardt with increasing

interest, and when he finished it, and noticed his bold expressive eyes

filled with tears, he could not resist taking him by the hand, saying,

"Truly, you have been guilty of a heavy crime against the Lord of your

country, but you have also expiated it dearly by being brought so near

to death. The terror of immediate death, whilst the sword of vengeance

is hanging over a guilty head, must indeed be tenfold more appalling

when the culprit is obliged to witness the execution of so many

acquaintances, awaiting the slow approach of his own last moment along

with them; but you have faithfully atoned to your prince for laying

your hand upon his person, by a life of fidelity, sacrifices, and risks

of all kinds in his cause. And how often have you liberated him from

danger, perhaps saved his life! Truly you have richly redeemed your

debt."

The poor man, when he had finished his story, relapsed into gloomy

thought, with his eyes fixed on the fire; and had it not been, that an

occasional sad smile passed over his countenance when Albert spoke to

him, he had all the appearance of being totally unconscious of what was

going on around him. "Do you mean," said he, "that I could ever

sufficiently repent, and redeem the crime of which I have been guilty?

No; such debts are not so easily liquidated, and a redeemed life must

be devoted to the service of him who has saved it. To wander among

mountains, getting intelligence from an enemy's camp, and finding out

places of concealment, are but trifling services, sir, and cannot

satisfy the mind under such circumstances. I feel convinced that I must

die for him one of these days; and then I pray you take care of my wife

and child."

A tear fell on his beard; but, as if ashamed of his weakness, he

hastily wiped it away, and continued: "Could but the sacrifice of my

life ward off the impending danger which surrounds him--could my death

erase that unfortunate oath of allegiance, which he has imposed on the

country, and replace him in the hearts of his people; I would willingly

die in that hour!"

The Duke awoke. He raised himself up, and surveyed the surrounding

rocks and trees, with his companions seated around the faint glimmering

of burning embers, with astonishment, as if he had been transported by

magic to this wild spot. Covering his face with his hands, and then

gazing about him again, to convince himself whether the appearance of

these objects were reality or not, he first glanced at one and then at

another with painful feelings. "I have this day lost my country again,"

said he, "but that event has not given me so much trouble as I feel at

this moment, for I dreamt I re-possessed it, and saw it in higher bloom

than ever. Alas, it was but a dream!"

"You must not be ungrateful, sir," said Maxx Stumpf von Schweinsberg,

raising himself from his bent position: "be not unthankful for nature's

kindness. Think how much more miserable you would have been, if in

sleep, which should give you renewed strength to bear the burden of

your misfortunes, you had still felt the weight of them. When you laid

down to rest, you were overcome by the fatal result of the day, but now

your features assume a kindlier and milder appearance; have we not,

then, cause to be thankful for your soothing dream?"

"I would I had never seen the day again!" replied Ulerich. "Oh, that I

could have been lost in the pleasures of that same dream for centuries,

and then have come to life again,--it was so beautiful, so consoling!"

He laid his head on his hand, and appeared oppressed with grief. The

conversation roused the knight of Lichtenstein. He was acquainted with

the character of Ulerich, and knew the necessity of not allowing him to

give way to his feelings, and, particularly at this critical moment,

not to let him brood over the terrible loss he had sustained; he

therefore drew nearer to him, and said:

"Well, sir, perhaps you will tell us what you dreamt of? It may,

perchance, afford your friends some consolation also; for you must

know, I have faith in dreams, especially when they occupy our minds in

hours of importance, and are fraught with destiny; I believe they are

sent from above to raise our hopes, and arm us with fortitude."

The Duke remained silent some time longer, apparently pondering over

the last words of his old friend. He then began, "My brother-in-law,

William of Bavaria, has burnt the castle of my ancestors this day, as a

proof of his friendship. The Wuertembergers have been established there

from time immemorial, and the country which we possess takes its name

from the same castle. He seems to have fired it with the torch of

death, and with its flames to have wished to exterminate the arms, the

remembrance, nay, even the very name of Wuertemberg, from the face of

the earth. He has partially succeeded; for my only son, young

Christoph, is in a distant land; my brother, George, has no child; and

I--I have been beaten and driven out; they have repossessed my country,

and where can I look to the hope of returning to it again?"

Ulerich was again silent. His mind appeared occupied with a subject too

great for utterance. A peaceful serenity lay on the features of the

unfortunate Prince, and an unusual expression beamed in his eyes as he

directed them upwards to heaven. His companions looked at him in awful

expectation of hearing some important communication resulting from his

dream.

"Listen further," he continued: "I gazed on the charming valley of the

Neckar. The river flowed on in its accustomed gentle winding blue

stream. The valley and hills appeared lovely, and more luxuriant than

ever. The woods on the heights and the meadows assumed the aspect of

one continued garden, spreading their rich green vineyards from hill to

hill, and in the valley below full-bearing fruit trees without number

completed the blooming scene. I stood enchanted and riveted to the

view; the sun shone with greater splendour than usual, the blue vault

of heaven was lighted up more brilliantly than I had ever witnessed it,

and all nature seemed dressed in brighter colours than mortal eye had

ever beheld. When I raised my intoxicated eye, and gazed upon the

valley of the Neckar, I beheld a castle pleasantly situated on the

summit of a hill which rose from the banks of the river, with the rays

of the morning sun playing upon its walls. The sight of this peaceful

habitation rejoiced my heart, for there were no ditches or high

defences, no towers or battlements, no portcullis nor drawbridge, to

remind the beholder of the contentions of men, and of the uncertain

history of mortals.

"And as I was wrapped in astonishment and delight in the contemplation

of the peaceful aspect of the valley and the unguarded castle, I turned

round, and beheld the walls of my castle no longer to exist. Here, at

least, my dream did not deceive me, for yesterday I saw the battlements

fall, and the watch-tower sink, over which my banner had formerly

floated. No stone of Wuertemberg was more to be seen, but in its place

stood a temple, ornamented with pillars and cupola, such as is to be

found in Rome and Greece. Meditating how all this change could have

come to pass, I observed some men in foreign costume, not far from me,

inspecting the country.

"One of these men, in particular, drew my attention. He led a beautiful

youth by the hand, and pointed out to him the valley which lay at their

feet, the surrounding mountains, the river, the towns and villages in

the neighbourhood, and in the distance. Upon a closer inspection, I

observed the man had the features of my brother George, and it struck

me that he must belong to the race of my ancestors, and be a true

Wuertemberger. He descended with the boy from the hill into the valley

below, followed by the other man at a respectful distance. I stopped

the last man, and asked him who the other person was that had described

the country to the lad; 'That was the King,' said he, and followed the

rest."

The Duke was silent, and looked inquisitively at the knights, as if to

hear their opinion. No one answered for some time, at length the knight

of Lichtenstein said, "I am now sixty-five years old, and have seen and

heard much in the world; many things come to pass which astonish the

human mind, but in which a pious man may distinguish the finger of God.

Believe me, that dreams also are of his sending, as nothing happens

upon earth without some reason. As there were seers and prophets in

ancient times, why should not the Lord send one to his saints in our

days, to open the dark gates of futurity to the mind of an unfortunate

man through the channel of a dream, and give him an insight into coming

happier days? Despond not, therefore, my lord! The enemy has burnt your

castle--in one day you have lost a dukedom; but your name will

nevertheless not become extinct, and your remembrance will not be

washed out from Wuertemberg's history."

"A King----" said the Duke, thoughtfully, "I dare not presume, now that

I am an outcast, to think of a King springing from my race. Is it not

possible that Satan may tempt us with such dreams, for the purpose of

deceiving us afterwards more cruelly?"

"But why have doubts of futurity?" said Schweinsberg, smiling. "Could

any one of your noble ancestors have thought their family would have

become Dukes of the country, and their beautiful land have borne the

name of Wuertemberg? Let your dream console you, which has been given as

a hint of the destiny awaiting your family. Believe that your name is

destined to nourish in distant, very distant times, in the land of your

forefathers, and that in remote ages the Princes of Wuertemberg will

bear the features of your generation."

"Well, then, I will hope so," replied Ulerich von Wuertemberg; "I will

continue to hope, that the country will still hold to us, dark as our

present lot may appear. May our grand-children never experience such

hard times as we have, and may it ever be said they are--fearless."

"And faithful!" added the fifer of Hardt, with emphasis, as he rose

from his seat. "But it is high time, my Lord Duke, to set out. The dawn

of morn is not far distant; we must pass the Neckar at all hazards

before daylight."

They all rose, and buckled on their arms. The horses being brought

forward, they mounted, and the fifer of Hardt went on before to lead

the way out of the place of concealment. The escape of the Duke was

attended with considerable danger, for the enemy sought all possible

means to take him prisoner. To gain the road by which he might elude

the vigilance of his enemies, it was absolutely necessary to repass the

Neckar; and to accomplish this in safety was no easy matter. Heavy

rains had swollen the river to such a degree, that it appeared next to

impossible to pass it on horseback by swimming. The bridges, for the

most part, were occupied by the troops of the League. But Hans had

taken the precaution to ascertain by the aid of faithful friends, that

the bridge of Koengen was still open, having been given to understand

that the enemy had thought it needless to guard it, as, being so near

Esslingen and their own camp, they never dreamt the Duke would venture

to come that way. This path, therefore, Ulerich chose as the safest,

though it still appeared attended with great danger, and the party set

out towards the Neckar in deep silence, and with caution.

When they reached the fields beyond the wood, the dawn of morning

tinged the horizon; and having gained a better road, they rode on at a

brisk pace, and soon got a sight of the glimmering of the Neckar, not

far from the high vaulted bridge which they were to pass. At this

moment Albert, happening to look round, perceived a considerable number

of horsemen coming towards them. He immediately made it known to his

companions, who, counting above twenty-five horses, felt assured they

could be no other than a party of cavalry of the League; the Duke's men

having been dispersed, it was not likely any stragglers were in this

neighbourhood.

These men, however, appeared not to remark the Duke's small retinue. To

gain the bridge with the least possible delay, before they were hailed

and questioned by this party, was of the utmost importance. The fifer

of Hardt hastened on before, the Duke and his faithful knights followed

in full trot, and as they increased their distance from the Leaguists,

each felt lighter at heart, for they all were less anxious about their

own lives than to secure the escape of Ulerich.

Having reached the bridge, and arrived on the middle of it, which was

highly arched, twelve men sprang forward from behind the walls, armed

with spears, swords, and guns, arresting the Duke's further progress.

Perceiving he was discovered, he made a sign to his followers to

retreat. Lichtenstein and Schweinsberg, being the two last, turned

their horses, to retrace their steps, but to their dismay found

themselves hemmed in by the cavalry they had first seen, who had

galloped up in their rear, and at this instant occupied the entrance to

the bridge.

It was still too dark to be able to distinguish the enemy with

precision, who were, however, not backward in making themselves known.

"Surrender yourself, Duke of Wuertemberg," cried a voice, which appeared

familiar to the knights; "you have no chance of escape."

"Who are you, to whom Wuertemberg should surrender?" answered the Duke,

with a furious voice, whilst he drew his sword; "you are no knight, for

you don't sit on horseback."

"I am Doctor Calmus," replied the other, "and am ready to return the

many kind acts I have received from you. I am a knight, for you

yourself created me a donkey knight, and in return I will now dub you

the knight without horse. Dismount, I say, in the name of the most

illustrious League."

"Give me room, Hans," whispered the Duke, with a suppressed voice to

the fifer, who stood between him and the doctor, with his axe raised to

his shoulder in attitude of defence, "just stand on one side. Close in,

my friends: we'll fall on them suddenly, and perhaps may succeed in

cutting through." Albert was the only one who heard this order, for the

other two knights were ten paces at least in their rear, already

engaged with the Leaguist cavalry, who were unable to force their way

past the gallant men to get at the Duke. Albert, therefore, closed with

the Duke, with the intention of making a rush with him through the

ranks of his opponents; but the doctor, perceiving it, called out to

his people, "At him, my men! that's him in the green cloak; take him,

dead or alive!" pushing forward at the same time to the attack. He

carried a spear of unusual length, and made a thrust at Ulerich, which

might have been fatal, for it was still dark, and the Duke did not

remark it immediately; but the quick-sighted Hans parried the thrust of

the renowned Doctor Calmus, which was on the point of piercing the

breast of his master, and with one blow of his axe felled him to the

ground, where he lay sprawling among his companions. They were

staggered at the deadly blow of the countryman, who, wielding his axe

high in the air, drove them back a few paces. Albert took advantage of

this moment to possess himself of the Duke's cloak, which he threw over

his own shoulders, and whispered to him to give his horse the spur, and

force him over the breastwork of the bridge. Ulerich cast a look at the

high swollen waters of the Neckar, and then up to heaven, in doubtful

despair. Escape appeared hopeless. The fearful leap was his only choice

between life or death, or falling into the hands of his enemies. A

circumstance, however, arrested his attention for a moment before he

decided upon it.

The enemy, with outstretched spears, advanced on the Duke. The fifer

still kept his ground, though wounded and bleeding in many places,

beating them down with his axe. His eyes flashed fire, his bold

features carried the expression of joyful animation, and the smile

about his mouth did not indicate despair; no, his noble soul feared not

the approach of death, he rather looked to it in proud anticipation, as

the reward for all the troubles and dangers he had taken upon himself.

As he cut one of his opponents to the ground with his right hand, the

halberd of another pierced his breast, that true breast, which even in

death proved a faithful shield to his unhappy prince, for whom a more

gallant heart never beat: he staggered, and sank to the ground. Casting

his dying eye upon his master, "My lord Duke, we are quits," were his

last words, which he uttered with a smile upon his countenance, and

fell lifeless at his feet.

The Leaguists passing over his body, pressed hard upon the Duke, with

the cry of exultation when Albert threw himself in the midst, his sword

dealing destruction among his enemies. He was the last and only

remaining defence of Duke Ulerich of Wuertemberg; had he been

overpowered, imprisonment or death to his friend and benefactor were

unavoidable. The Duke, therefore, turned to the only means of escape; a

desperate one indeed. He cast a painful look at the corpse of that man

who had sealed his fidelity with his death, and turning his powerful

war-horse on one side, gave him the spur that made him spring in the

air, and with one desperate leap he cleared the breastwork of the

bridge, carrying his princely rider down into the waters of the Neckar.

Albert ceased to defend himself. His eye was fixed solely on the Duke.

The horse and rider plunged deep into the river; but the powerful

beast, combating the eddies and current, soon appeared on its surface,

carrying his master down the stream with the apparent ease and safety

of a boat. All this was the affair of a few moments. Some of the

Leaguists were for following him along the banks of the river, to seize

the bold knight when he landed; but one of them nearest Albert cried,

"Let him swim, he is not the right one; here is the prize, in the green

cloak,--seize him." Albert, looking up to heaven in grateful

thanksgiving for the escape of the Duke, and dropping his sword,

surrendered to the Leaguists. They surrounded him, and willingly

allowed him to dismount, to pay the last painful offices to the corpse

of that man who had been their fearful opponent. Albert took his hand,

with which he still kept a firm grasp of his blood-stained axe; it was

icy cold. He felt his heart, to discover if there was still life in it;

the deadly thrust of the spear had but too faithfully done its office.

That eye once so bold was now lifeless, that mouth which bespoke an

unbending cheerful mind was closed, the features rigid; but still the

smile, that last dying salute with which he greeted his master, played

upon his lips. Albert's tears fell on his faithful friend, as he

pressed for the last time the cold hand of the fifer of Hardt; he

closed his eyes, and, throwing himself upon his horse, followed his

enemies to their camp.

CHAPTER XXXV.

Happy the soldier, all his perils o'er,

In peace returning to his native place,

When those who love him meet him at the door,

And gaze with rapture on the wish'd-for face.

SCHILLER.

After a march of three hours, the troop of the Leaguists' soldiers,

with their prisoner in the midst, approached their camp. Though they

did not venture to talk aloud, it was easy to perceive, by their

countenances, how great was their exultation at their supposed triumph

and prize, and it did not escape the acute observation of Albert that

the whisper among them referred to the reward they were likely to gain

for the person of the Duke. A feeling of satisfaction filled the breast

of the young man, in the hope that his unhappy Prince might gain time

to escape his enemies by the diversion the bold sacrifice he had made

of himself in his favour. But the thought which now gave him the

greatest uneasiness was the distress his beloved wife would experience,

when she became acquainted with the result of the battle. Though he had

informed her, through the medium of faithful messengers, of his having

escaped unhurt in the bloody conflict, she was still ignorant of the

unfortunate turn in the Duke's fate; still less could she know his own.

He could well imagine her state of mind, when, among the prisoners

brought into Stuttgardt, neither her father nor husband were found of

the number. The thought was agonising to his mind, rendered doubly so

amidst the taunts of those who now led him as a prisoner to the

presence of his enemies. These, and a thousand other painful feelings,

chilled his joy in having been the saviour of his friend.

Could he hope to be liberated a second time by the League, as he had

been in Ulm? Taken with arms in his hand,--known as the most zealous

friend of the Duke,--his only prospect was a long imprisonment, and

harsh treatment. The arrival at the advanced posts of the camp

interrupted these gloomy thoughts. One of the troop which guarded him

was sent on before to acquaint the commanders of the League of their

prisoner, and to receive their orders respecting the place where he was

to be brought. This was a painful quarter of an hour for Albert. He

wished of all things, if possible, to speak to Fronsberg, hoping that

this noble friend of his father might still retain a kindly feeling

towards him, and, at least, judge him more favourably than Truchses von

Waldburg and many others, who he well knew to be inimical towards him.

The man returned with orders to conduct the prisoner as quietly as

possible, and without ceremony, to the large tent in which the officers

generally held their council of war. For this purpose they turned off

by a side path, and the soldiers begged Albert to close the vizor of

his helmet, that he might pass unknown, till he arrived before the

council. He willingly complied with this request, for nothing was more

painful to his feelings than to be exposed to the gaze of the curious

or exulting multitude. Numerous serving men were assembled here, whose

different costumes and badges of distinction led Albert to suppose a

large assemblage of nobles and knights were congregated in the tent.

The news that a troop of infantry had taken a man of distinction

prisoner, appeared to have preceded his arrival, for when Albert threw

himself from his saddle, the people crowded around him, and, with looks

of curiosity, tried to get a sight of his features through the

apertures of his vizor. A page of honour with difficulty made his way

through the multitude, having been sent, "in the name of the commanders

of the League," to open a road by which the prisoner could reach the

tent. Three of the men who had taken him were ordered to follow; their

joy was unbounded, and they thought of nothing less than receiving

immediately the gold florins which had been offered as the price for

the person of the Duke of Wuertemberg.

The inner curtain of the tent being drawn up, Albert walked in boldly

and with a firm, step, looking round upon the men who were to decide

upon his fate. Many known faces were among the number, who eyed him

with inquisitive penetrating looks. The scowling glance and inimical

front of Truchses von Waldburg were still fresh in his memory, and the

scornful exulting expression of the features of this man did not augur

him any good. Sickingen, Alban von Closen, Hutten, all sat before him

as at that time when he bid the League an eternal farewell. But when he

beheld that noble figure, those dignified features of Fronsberg, which

were deeply engraven on his grateful heart, he felt self convicted in

his own estimation. It was not contempt or triumphant joy which sat

upon his features,--no, it was an expression of sorrowing

thoughtfulness, with which an honourable man receives a valiant

conquered enemy.

Albert now stood before these men, when Truchses von Waldburg

began:--"The Swabian League has at last the honour of seeing the

illustrious Duke of Wuertemberg before them. The invitation which you

sent to us was certainly much too courteous, but----"

"You are mistaken," answered Albert, raising the vizor of his helmet at

the same time. The members of the League started when they beheld the

fine countenance of the young knight, as if they had seen Minerva's

shield and Medusa's head.

"Ha! traitors! base villains! dogs!" cried Truchses to the three

soldiers; "what cub do you bring here in the place of the Duke? The

very sight of him excites my bile! Tell me quickly what has become of

him--speak!"

The soldiers turned pale. "Is he not the right one?" they asked. "That

was him with the green cloak."

Truchses trembled with rage, his eyes darted fire, he would have

executed the soldiers upon the spot, and talked of hanging them; but

the rest of the knights compelled him to curb his violence; and Hutten,

pale with anger also, but more composed than the other, asked, "Where

is Doctor Calmus? let him come forward, to give an account of himself,

for he volunteered to arrest the Duke."

"Ah, sir!" replied one of the soldiers, "his account is already

settled; he lies dead on the bridge of Koengen."

"Killed?" cried Sickingen, "and the Duke fled! relate the circumstance,

villains!"

We placed ourselves in ambush near the bridge, as the doctor ordered

us. It was still dark, when we heard the tread of horses approach the

bridge, and at the same time perceived the signal which our cavalry on

the other side of it had agreed to make as soon as the Duke's party

issued from the wood. "Now is the time," cried the doctor; "we

instantly got up and occupied the exit from the bridge. As far as we

could distinguish, four horsemen and a peasant formed the party. The

two hindermost turned back and engaged our cavalry, whilst the other

two, and the peasant, attacked us.

"We stretched out our lances, the doctor calling to them to surrender;

but they paid no attention to the summons, and fell on us with

determined fury. The man in the green mantle was pointed out as the

prize, and we should soon have had him had it not been for the

peasant,--if it was not, indeed, the very devil himself,--who with his

axe felled the doctor and two of our comrades in a trice. One of our

party revenged our leader's life by running the peasant through the

body with his halbert, which encouraged us to renew our attack on the

man in the green mantle. His companion sprang his horse over the bridge

into the Neckar, and swam down the river. Having subdued the man who

was our principal object, we let the other go, and brought the prisoner

with us."

"That was Ulerich, and no other," cried Alban von Klosen. "Ha! to jump

over the bridge into the river! no other man in the whole world would

have dared to do so."

"We must follow him," Truchses exclaimed; "the whole of the cavalry

must start immediately and hunt the banks of the river,--I myself will

go----"

"Oh! sir," replied one of the soldiers, "you are too late; we left the

bridge three hours ago, so that he will have got a long start, and, as

no one knows the country better than he does, there is no chance of

finding him."

"Fellow! do you mean to prescribe to me what to do?" cried Truchses in

fury: "You allowed him to escape, and you shall be answerable for it.

Call the guard--I'll have you hung at once!"

"Pray be just," said Fronsberg. "It was not the poor fellows' fault;

they would have been too happy to have earned the money which was set

on the Duke's head. The doctor was the cause of his escape, and you

have already heard he is not alive to answer for it."

"It was you, therefore, who represented the person of the Duke," said

Truchses, turning to Albert, who had calmly looked on during this

scene. "You are always coming in my way, with your milk face. The devil

employs you everywhere, when you are least wanted. This is not the

first time that you have crossed my plans."

"No," replied Albert, "for when you fell upon the Duke, as you

supposed, at Neuffen, it was I who crossed your path there also; and it

was I whom your men cut down that night."

The knights were astonished to hear this, and looked inquisitively at

Truchses. He reddened, but whether from anger or shame it was not

known, and said, "What are you chattering about Neuffen? I know nothing

about that affair. I only regret that when they cut you down you had

ever risen again to appear before me this day a second time. But as it

is, I rejoice to have you in my clutches. You have proved yourself the

bitterest enemy of the League; you have acted in the service of the

exiled Duke both openly and secretly, thereby sharing his offence

against us and the whole empire. Beside these crimes, you have been

taken this day with arms in your hands. You are therefore guilty of

high treason against the most illustrious League of Swabia and

Franconia."

"Your charges are highly ridiculous," replied the young man, in a tone

of defiance: "you made me swear to remain neuter between the two

parties for fourteen days, to which I faithfully adhered, so true as

God is my witness. You have no right to require an account of my

conduct since that time, for I was no longer bound to you: and as to

what you say of my being taken with arms in my hand, I would ask you,

noble knights, who among you would not defend his life to the last when

he was attacked by six or eight men? I demand then, as my right, the

treatment becoming the rank of knighthood; and therefore I am ready to

swear to a six weeks' neutrality. You cannot require more of me."

"Would you prescribe laws to us?" said Truchses. "You have learned a

good lesson, indeed, from the Duke. I think I hear him speaking; but

not one step shall you take to your friends before you own where that

old fox, your father-in-law, is, and the road the Duke has taken."

"The knight of Lichtenstein was taken prisoner by your cavalry," he

replied; "but the road which the Duke has taken, I know not; and I am

ready to give my word of honour upon it."

"To be treated as a knight, indeed!" said Truchses, with a sarcastic

laugh; "there you deceive yourself altogether. You must first prove

where you won the golden spur! No; such criminals as you, are,

according to our laws, thrown into the lowest dungeons; and so I will

commence with you."

"I think that unnecessary," interrupted Fronsberg. "I will answer for

Albert von Sturmfeder that he has a right to the golden spurs; besides

which, he saved the life of a noble belonging to the League. You cannot

forget the evidence of Dieterich von Kraft, how, through the

intercession of this knight, he was saved from an ignominious death,

and was even set at liberty. He has a right, therefore, to the same

treatment by us."

"I know you have always spoken a word for him, your darling child,"

rejoined Truchses; "but this once it is of no avail. He must be sent to

the tower of Esslingen this very moment."

"I will stand bail for him," said Fronsberg. "I possess the right of a

voice in council with the rest. Let it pass to the vote what is to be

done with the prisoner. In the mean while, let him be conducted to my

tent."

Albert cast a look of heartfelt gratitude at his kind noble friend, for

having a second time saved him from a threatened danger. Truchses

muttered an order to the guards to follow the orders of Fronsberg, who

led their prisoner through the narrow paths of the camp to the tent of

the commander of the infantry.

Shortly after he had arrived at his destination, the man to whom he was

so highly indebted stood before him, but Albert could not find words to

express his sense of gratitude and respect. Fronsberg smiled at his

embarrassment, and embraced him. "No thanks, no excuses," said he. "Did

I not already anticipate all this when we took leave of each other in

Ulm? But you would not believe me, and were determined to bury yourself

among the ruins of the castle of your ancestors. I do not blame you;

for believe me the campaigns and storms of many wars have not yet

hardened my heart so much as to make me forget the power of love."

"My friend, my father!" exclaimed Albert, blushing with joy.

"Yes, I am truly your father,--the friend of your father. I have often

thought of you with pride, even when you stood opposed to me in the

enemy's ranks. Your name, young as you are, will always be mentioned

with respect; for fidelity and courage in an enemy are always highly

esteemed by a man of honour. Most of us rejoice that the Duke has

escaped, for what could we have done with him? Truchses might perhaps

have committed a rash step, which we all might have had cause to

repent."

"And what is my fate to be?" asked Albert. "Am I to remain long in

prison? Where is the knight of Lichtenstein? Oh, my poor wife! may I

not see her?"

Fronsberg smiled mysteriously. "That will be difficult to manage," said

he. "You will be sent to a fortress under safe escort, and given over

to a guard, who will have orders to watch you strictly, and from whose

charge you will not escape so easily. But, be of good cheer; the knight

of Lichtenstein will accompany you, and both of you must swear to a

year's neutrality and imprisonment."

Fronsberg was now interrupted by three men, who stormed his tent;--it

was Breitenstein and Dieterich von Kraft, leading the knight of

Lichtenstein between them.

"Do I see you again, my brave lad?" cried Breitenstein, as he took

Albert's hand. "You have played me a pretty trick; your old uncle made

me promise, upon my soul, to make something out of you, which would do

honour to the League, but you deserted to the enemy, cutting and

slashing at us, and nearly gained the victory yesterday by your

hot-brained, desperate attack on our artillery!"

"Every one to his taste," replied Fronsberg; "he did honour to his

friends, even in the enemy's ranks."

The knight of Lichtenstein embraced his son. "He is in safety," he

whispered to him. Their eyes beamed with joy, in having both been

instrumental in saving their unhappy Prince. The old knight discovered

the green mantle which still hung on the shoulders of his son, and

said, in astonishment, a tear of joy starting to his eye, "Ah, now I

understand how everything has come to pass; they mistook you for the

Duke. What would have become of him but for your courage and presence

of mind in the critical moment? Your bravery and foresight have

achieved more than any of us, and, though we are prisoners, we are

still conquerors! Come to my heart, thou most noble son!"

"And Maxx von Stumpf Schweinsberg!" asked Albert, "what has become of

him? is he a prisoner also?"

"He cut his way through the enemy,--for who could withstand his arm? My

old bones are powerless, I am of no more use; but he has joined the

Duke, and will be of more assistance to him than fifty horsemen. But I

did not see the fifer,--tell me, how did he come out of the fray?"

"As a hero," replied Albert, agitated by a feeling of deep regret at

the recollection of him; "he was run through the body by a lance, and

his corpse lies on the bridge."

"Dead!" cried Lichtenstein, and his voice trembled. "His was indeed a

faithful soul,--may it rest in peace! His actions were noble, and he

died true to his master, as all should do."

Fronsberg now approached them, and interrupted their conversation. "You

appear much cast down," said he; "but be of good cheer and consolation,

noble sir! the fortune of war is changeable, and your Duke will, in all

probability, once more return to his native country. Who knows if it is

not better that we should send him to foreign parts again for a short

time? Put by your helmet and armour; your fight at breakfast time will

not have spoiled your appetite for mid-day's meal. Seat yourself beside

us. About noon I expect the guardian, who is to have charge of you in

your confinement; until then, let's be cheerful."

"That's a proposition we can readily satisfy," cried Breitenstein.

"Dinner is ready, gentlemen: you and I have not dined together, Albert,

since that day in the townhall of Ulm. Come, and we'll make up for lost

time."

Hans von Breitenstein seated himself with Albert next to him; the

others followed his example; the servants brought the dinner, and wine

made the knight of Lichtenstein and his son forget, for a time, their

unfortunate situation of being in the enemy's camp, and the uncertainty

of their fate, which, according to Fronsberg's assurance, was to be an

imprisonment of long duration. Towards the end of the repast Fronsberg

was called away, but he soon returned, and said, with a serious

countenance, "Willingly as I would wish to enjoy your society some time

longer, my friends, I am sorry to compel you to break up. The guard is

without into whose charge I must deliver you, and I would advise you to

lose no time, if you would arrive at the fortress of your confinement

before dark."

"I trust our guard is one of our own rank,--a knight?" asked

Lichtenstein, whilst his face assumed a gloomy, indignant frown. "I

hope proper attention will be paid to our rights, and that we shall

have an escort fitting our station."

"No knight will accompany you," said Fronsberg, "but a fitting escort,

of which you shall convince yourself." With these words he raised the

curtain of his tent, discovering to the astonished father and son the

lovely features of Bertha. She flew into the arms of her enraptured

husband. Her venerable father, speechless from joy and surprise, kissed

his child on her forehead, and pressed the hand of the honest Fronsberg

in token of heartfelt gratitude.

"That is your guardian," said the latter; "and the castle of

Lichtenstein the place of your confinement. I can see already, in your

eyes," addressing himself to Bertha, "that you will not be too severe

with the young man, and that the old man will not have to complain. But

let me advise you, my pretty daughter, to have a watchful eye to your

prisoners; don't let them out of the castle, for fear of their

rejoining the cause of certain people. Your pretty head will answer for

their actions!"

"But, dear sir," replied Bertha, whilst she drew her beloved closer to

her, and smiled playfully at the stern commander, "recollect he is my

head,--so how can I command him?"

"That is just the reason why you should take care not to lose it again.

Bind him fast with the knot of love,--let him not escape, for he easily

changes his colours; of which we have had proofs sufficient."

"I only wore one colour, my fatherly friend!" replied the young man,

looking at his beautiful wife, and pointing to the scarf which he wore,

"only one, and to this I remained faithful."

"Well, then! remain true to it for the future," said Fronsberg, and

gave him his hand to depart. "Farewell! your horses are before the

tent: may you arrive happily at your destination, and think sometimes,

in friendship, of old Fronsberg."

Bertha took leave of this worthy man with tears of grateful thanks in

her eyes; the men also were overcome when they took his hand, for they

were well aware that, without his kind interference, their fate might

have been of a very different stamp. George von Fronsberg followed the

happy party with his eye until they turned the corner of the long lane

of tents. "He is in good hands," said he, as he turned to Breitenstein.

"Truly the blessing of his father rests upon him. Not a better or more

beautiful wife, and more honourable son, will be found in all Swabia."

"Yes, yes!" replied Hans von Breitenstein, "but he has not to thank his

own wits or foresight for it. He who seeks to better his fortune,

let him conduct a wife home. I am fifty years old, and still on the

look-out for a partner; and you, also, Dieterich von Kraft, are you not

upon the same scent?"

"Not at all,--quite the contrary,--I am already provided," he replied,

as if awoke out of a dream; "when one sees such a couple, we know what

is next to be done. I am going to put myself, this very hour, into my

sedan, on my journey to Ulm, there to conduct my cousin Marie to my

home. Farewell, my friends!"

* * * * *

When the Swabian League had reconquered Wuertemberg, they re-established

their government, and reigned over the whole country, as in the summer

of 1519. The partisans of the exiled Duke were compelled to swear

neutrality, and were banished to their respective castles. Albert von

Sturmfeder and his family were included in this mild destiny, living

retired on the Lichtenstein; and a new life of peaceable domestic

happiness fell to the lot of the loving couple.

Often when they stood at the window of the castle, overlooking

Wuertemberg's beautiful fields, they would think of their unfortunate

Prince, who also once viewed his country from the same spot. It

reminded them of the chain of events of their own history, and of the

extraordinary means by which their union had been brought about; and

which they did not fail to acknowledge, would perhaps not have happened

so soon, had their fate been otherwise ordained. But they felt the joy

of their existence incomplete when they thought of the founder of their

happiness, living in the misery of banishment far from his country.

Some years after the fatal battle, the Duke succeeded in re-conquering

Wuertemberg. The stern lesson of adversity and misfortune brought him

back a wiser Prince and a happier man. He re-established the ancient

rights and laws of the land, and won the hearts of his people by

judicious measures. He enforced the preaching of holy doctrines, and by

his example recommended the practice of them. The religious principles

he had imbibed in foreign lands, and which had afforded him the only

consolation amidst his sufferings, he now infused into the laws of his

country, as the only sure foundation-stone of a people's happiness.

Albert and his pious wife plainly discovered the finger of a merciful

God watching over the fate of Ulerich von Wuertemberg. They blessed Him

who thus veils futurity from the eye of mortals, and, as in the present

instance, turns dark into light to those who seek his guidance and

protection in faith.

The name of Lichtenstein in Wuertemberg became extinct at the death

of the old knight; but he lived long enough to see his blooming

grand-children attain the age of bearing arms. And in this way

generation after generation pass over the face of the earth, new comers

thrusting out old ones, and after a short lapse of fifty or an hundred

years, the fame of honest men and faithful hearts is forgotten. The

rushing stream of time drowns the voice of their remembrance, and only

a few brilliant names float down the tide of history and play upon its

surface in partial glittering light. Far more happy is the man whose

actions carry their own silent worth along with them, finding their

reward alone in the purity of conscience, and passing through life

without courting the praise or flattery of the times in which he lived,

nor living for the applause of after ages. The name of the fifer of

Hardt and his actions, have come down to us in simple garb, through the

medium of successive generations of shepherds in the neighbourhood of

the "Misty Cavern." They relate the deeds of the man who concealed his

unfortunate Duke among its deep recesses, as they conduct the stranger

through their gloomy paths, and talk of the romantic events of

Ulerich's life. The writer of history disdains such stories as unworthy

of his pen; but they are not the less credible. When recounted on the

spot, such as on the heights of Lichtenstein, where the Duke came every

night at a stated hour to the castle, and when the place is pointed out

on the bridge of Koengen, whence the undaunted man took the fearful leap

into the deep waters below for life or death, we listen to the details

with believing ears.

The old castle of Lichtenstein has long since fallen into ruin. A

huntsman's house now occupies its foundations, light and airy, like a

castle in the air, which imagination builds upon the ruins of

antiquity. Wuertemberg's fields spread themselves before the enchanted

eye, rich and blooming as formerly, when Bertha by the side of her

lover gazed upon them, and the most unhappy of her princes cast a

farewell glance on his country from Lichtenstein's windows. The

subterranean apartments of the castle, which received the exile, are

still to be seen, in all their pride and glory; and the murmuring

streams, gushing through the mysterious depths at the foot of the rock,

would seem to relate events long since buried in oblivion.

It is a delightful custom of the inhabitants of the country, and also

of the stranger from distant parts, to visit Lichtenstein and Ulerich's

cavern on Whitsunday. Many hundreds of Swabia's children are attracted

to these mountains on that day. They descend into the heart of the

earth, whose crystal walls, lighted up by thousands of wax tapers, are

made to reflect their sparkling beauties in numberless fantastic forms;

they fill the cavern with the sound of the merry song, and listening to

its echoes, which are accompanied by the melodious murmur of the

running streams in the depth below, enjoy the wonders of nature's handy

work. Having satisfied their curiosity, they return to the light of

day, more pleased than ever with the glories of sunshine and the

comfort of earth's blessings. Ascending the road leading to the heights

of Lichtenstein, they arrive on its summit, where the men, surrounded

by their wives and families, with the glass in the hand, overlook the

distant fields, displayed to their view in all the lovely colours of

the setting sun, and, with grateful hearts, thank heaven for the

blessings of their father-land. The halls of Lichtenstein resound again

with music, dancing, and the merry song, and the echo from its rocks

seems to inspire the jovial guests with recollections of the former

inmates of the castle, and with them to gaze upon good old Wuertemberg.

But whether the spirit of the lady of Lichtenstein, with that of Albert

and the old knight, inspires them, or whether the faithful musician of

Hardt quits his grave, and, as he was wont to do during his life,

mounts up to the castle to cheer it with music and song, we know not.

Often have we reposed on these rocks on a still summer's evening,

enjoying the landscape, talking over the good old times, witnessing the

sun's descent, and observing the castle, standing alone and solitary,

lighted up by its last rays. Then it was we fancied we could

distinguish, among the rustling of the trees, the sound of known

voices, floating on the gentle breeze, wafting to our ears their

salutations, and recounting the events of their past lives and actions.

We have frequently experienced such like feelings, presenting to our

imagination images, which fancy would realize before our eyes, and

salute our ears with the whisper of their romantic tales, until at

length we verily believed them to be,--the spirits of Lichtenstein.

THE END.

J. B. Nichols and Son, 25, Parliament-street.