Eric, on the morning of his departure from home, had a private
leave-taking with his father. The Knight, though an old soldier, was a
peaceably-disposed man, yet in spite of all he could do he had foes and
troubles. A certain Baron Schenk, of Schweinsburg, unjustly claimed
rights over a portion of the Knight's property. It was clearly
impossible for the Knight to accede to the Count's demands, for had he
done so fresh ones would instantly have been made until the Count might
have claimed possession of Lindburg itself. The Count had often
threatened to come and insist on his claims at the point of the sword,
but the Knight had reminded him that as two people could play at that
game he might find that he gained nothing by the move. Still he
occasionally received a message which showed him that the Count had not
forgotten his threats, and this always troubled him, not because he
feared his enemy, but because he wished to be quiet and at peace with
all his fellow-men. He had a long talk with his son and gave him much
good advice. The two understood each other thoroughly.
"My son," he said, "you are going forth into the world; and will meet
with a great variety of characters. Treat your fellow-men with a kindly
regard and do them all the good in your power, but put your whole trust
in God alone. While you cling to Him He will never forsake you--I know
that you are honest and single-hearted. Do that, and I have no fear for
you. Take my blessing, Eric. Write when you can and tell me all about
Dr Martin and his companions. I wish that I were young enough to go to
the University with you; I would give much once more to hear that man
speak as he did at Worms."
Eric set forth not as a poor scholar, on foot, but as the son of a
Knight and a Noble of the land, on horseback, accompanied by Hans Bosch,
who led a sumpter-horse loaded with his baggage. Both were armed, as
was necessary in those times, with swords and pistols; the latter being
somewhat large and unwieldy weapons. Eric, as befitted his station, had
learned the use of his sword, and Hans was an old soldier who had
grasped a pike for nearly half a century. Hans and Eric had always been
good friends. The old soldier was not ignorant of what was going on in
the world, but he had not as yet made up his mind which side to choose.
He suspected the bias of his master, and that of his mistress was very
evident. As yet, however, he clung to the old opinions. Eric, though
high-spirited and manly, was thoughtful and grave above his years, and
Hans respected his opinions accordingly. He had before been at the
University of Erfurth, but the fame of Wittemburg had reached him, and,
what had still more influence, several of the books written at
Wittemburg, and he had been seized with a strong desire to migrate
thither.
Hans could not read himself, but he was inquisitive. He plied his young
master with questions, to which Eric very willingly made replies.
"Then you put no faith in the Pope, nor believe that he is the only
rightful ruler of the Church?" observed Hans in reply to a remark made
by his young master.
"I have been led to doubt the supremacy he claims from all I have read,"
answered Eric modestly. "More especially do I believe that he is not a
descendant of the Apostle Peter from what I have read in my Greek
Testament. I there find that Saint Paul, on one occasion, thus wrote of
this supposed chief of the Apostles: `When Peter was at Antioch, I
withstood him to the face, because he was to be blamed,' (Galatians two
11.) Peter was also sent especially to preach to the Jews and not to
the Gentiles. Paul, when writing from Rome, sends no salutations from
him, which he would have done had Peter been there; indeed he never once
mentions his name. The third or fourth Christian Bishop of Rome speaks
of Saint Paul having suffered martyrdom under the emperors; but, by the
way he speaks of Saint Peter, evidently believing that he suffered
martyrdom elsewhere in the east, and does not allude to his having been
at Rome. If, therefore, the very foundations of the pretensions of
these august Pontiffs are defective, what can we think of the rest of
their claims? However, when I have been some time at Wittemburg, I hope
to know more about the matter."
"But, my dear young master, if you upset the foundation of our faith,
what else have we to build on? I, for one, as an old soldier who has
seen the world, say that we can not go on without religion," exclaimed
Hans, in a tone which showed the perturbation of his mind.
"That is right, Hans," answered Eric, "but, my old friend, we do not
destroy the real foundation of our faith, we only overthrow the false
and cunningly-devised superstructure. The foundation of our faith is in
the sufficient sacrifice once made for man by Jesus Christ, the Son of
God, on the cross, and the complete justification of all who repent and
put faith in that sacrifice. That is what Dr Martin Luther teaches.
He says that no man should venture to come between the sinner and God;
that Christ is the only one Mediator--the go-between, you understand--
that He is all-loving, and all-merciful, and all-kind, that by any one
else interfering He is insulted, and that all indulgences, penances,
works, are the devices of the Evil One to make man lose sight of the
full, free, and perfect redemption which Christ has wrought for us."
"That sounds like a good doctrine," observed Hans, thoughtfully, "the
`pfaffen' will not like it, because it will deprive them of their
influence and the chief portion of their gains; but how do you know that
it is the true one, my young master?"
"Because it is in the Word of God, the Bible. And I am very certain
that God, who has done so much for us, would not have left us without a
clear statement of His will--clear rules for our guidance, and therefore
I believe that the Bible is the Word of God," observed Eric.
Hans rode on in silence. He was meditating on his young master's
remarks. They had not gone more than a league or two when some sharp
cries reached their ears. They came from some person before them. They
rode on, and arrived in sight of a big youth who was belabouring with a
thick stick, in the middle of the road, a young boy. The boy had
something under his cloak, which the youth was insisting on his keeping
concealed. Eric's generous feelings were at once excited. He could
never bear to see the strong tyrannising over the weak. He rode forward
and demanded of the big lad why he was thus ill-treating the little one.
The youth did not reply, but looked up sulkily at him. Eric turned to
the little fellow.
"This is the reason, noble sir," answered the boy, "he is my
`bacchante,' and I am a poor little `schutz.' We are poor scholars
seeking education at the schools. For the protection he affords me he
insists that I shall provide him with food. Lately his appetite has
been very great, and I have not got enough for him, and to-day he
insisted on my stealing this goose, and hiding it under my cloak, that
if it was discovered I might be punished and he escape."
"So, my master, and is this the way you afford your protection?"
exclaimed Eric, looking angrily at the big bacchante. "What is your
name, my little schutz?" he asked of the boy.
"Thomas Platter," was the answer. "I come from Switzerland, and have
for long been wandering about, finding it hard to live in one place for
want of food."
"Then, Thomas Platter, know that I am going to Wittemburg, where there
is a good school; and, if you desire it, you shall remain with me and
pursue your studies, and if you ever have to beg for bread, it shall be
for yourself alone. Are you willing to accept my offer?"
"Gladly, most noble sir," answered the boy, throwing down the goose and
springing out of the way of the big bacchante, who sought to detain him.
Hans, who once had a little boy who died when he was of the age of
Thomas Platter, approved of his young master's generous offer, and
undertook to carry the lad behind him on his horse to Wittemburg. The
bacchante grumbled and looked very angry at this, and threatened to come
after Thomas and carry him off; but Eric advised him to make no attempt
of the sort as the boy was now under his protection. They rode on and
left him grumbling and threatening as before. Thomas seemed highly
pleased at the change. He was evidently a sharp, clever little fellow,
though simple-minded and ignorant of the world. He was the son of a
poor shepherd, but the desire to gain knowledge induced him to quit his
father's cottage and to go forth in search of that education which he
could not gain at home. He had met with all sorts of adventures, often
very nearly starving, now beaten and ill-used by his bacchante, a big
student, from whom he received a doubtful sort of protection, now
escaping from him and being taken care of by humane people, wandering
from school to school, picking up a very small amount of knowledge,
being employed chiefly in singing and begging through the towns to
obtain food. Such was the type of a travelling student in those days.
Frequently he had companions, three or four schutzen and twice as many
bacchantes, the former performing, in fact, in rough style, the part of
fags to the older students. The big bacchante, from whom Thomas had
escaped, was a relative who had promised to befriend him. It was in the
unsatisfactory manner described that he had performed his part.
The next day, as Eric and his companions approached the town of Jena in
Thuringia, they overtook a solitary horseman. From his appearance he
seemed a knight, as he had a long sword by his side, and a red cap on
his head, and was habited in hosen and jerkin, with a military cloak
over his shoulders, though he was without armour. He exchanged
courteous salutations with the young noble, and enquired whither he was
going. On hearing that it was Wittemburg he seemed well pleased.
"Yes, I am migrating thither from Erfurth, for I desire to study under
one whom I consider the great light of the age, Dr Martin Luther,"
answered Eric.
"Then you have never met Dr Martin," said the stranger.
"Not personally, but I know him by his works," answered Eric. "That way
methinks we may know a man far better than those we may see every day
who have written nothing for our instruction. Still I desire to go to
Wittemburg that I may drink at the fountain's head, and listen to the
words which fall from the Doctor's own lips."
"Young man," said the stranger, turning a pair of dark, flashing eyes
upon Eric, "be assured that if you drink at the Fountain Head--the pure
spring from which Dr Martin is wont to drink, you will do well--that
is, the Word of God, the Holy Scriptures. Of them you can never drink
too much, and yet no fountain can afford so satisfactory a draught. But
beware how you imbibe knowledge from other sources; from the traditions
of men; from mere human learning. It is the too common want of caution
in that respect which leads so many men astray. Seek for the
enlightenment and guidance of the Holy Spirit, and give your whole heart
and soul to the study of the Scriptures. In that way you will most
assuredly gain the best of all knowledge."
Talking in this way, old Hans riding up close behind them, to catch the
words which fell from the stranger's mouth, they approached the town.
Before, however, they could reach it, a fearful storm, which had been
threatening for some time, burst upon them. They pushed on as fast as
their steeds could move, to obtain, as they hoped, shelter in the town,
and now Eric perceived that the stranger, whom he had supposed to be a
knight, was no very great horseman, and more than once he feared, when a
vivid flash of lightning made the animal he bestrode spring on one side,
that he would be thrown to the ground; still he kept his seat, nor
seemed to think of danger, every now and then addressing Eric on some
subject of deep interest.
On entering the town they found every one keeping holiday, for it was
Shrovetide, and mummery and feasting, and amusements of all sorts were
going forward. No one would attend to them, nor could they obtain
accommodation of any sort in the town, even where they could dry their
damp clothes. At last they were advised to proceed on through the town,
where outside the gates, on the other side, they would find an hostelry,
the "Black Boar," at which they would obtain accommodation. They were
not misled. The landlord received them courteously, and seemed, by the
affectionate greeting he gave their companion, to be well acquainted
with him. Eric considered that it was too early in the day to stop, and
as his and his attendant's horses were fresh, he proposed, after taking
some refreshment, to proceed on another stage or two further. During
the repast the stranger continued the conversation which had been
interrupted by their approach to Jena. Little Thomas Platter, who was
sitting at the table as well as Hans, listened with attentive ear to all
that was said. When Eric rose to depart, the stranger bade him a
cordial farewell.
"I too am on my way to Wittemburg," he observed, "we may meet there, I
hope, ere long, and you will then judge whether the tales that have been
told of Dr Martin are true or false."
Eric was very much interested in the stranger, and puzzled to know who
he could be.
"He is a man of learning and a man of consequence," he observed as he
rode along. "I would that I possessed one quarter of his learning. How
his countenance lights up when he speaks, and how the words flow from
his lips. He is a man to move his fellow-creatures by his eloquence, or
I mistake his looks and mode of utterance."
"What think you, my young sir, if he should prove to be Dr Martin
himself?" said Hans.
"It more than once occurred to me that such might be the case; but is
Dr Martin likely to be out in these parts, and would he be habited in
such a costume as that worn by this stranger?" asked Eric.
"It was Dr Martin notwithstanding that," exclaimed the little Platter;
"you will see, my masters, when we get to Wittemburg, you will see."
This incident added very much to the interest of the journey. They rode
on for some leagues, when, as they were not far off from the place where
they purposed resting for the night, they saw a band of horsemen
approaching them. It was easy to see by their dress and general
appearance that he who rode at their head was their lord, with two
companions of inferior rank, and that the rest were his retainers. They
had a particular swaggering look which showed that they belonged to a
class of persons common in those days, who followed the fortunes of any
lawless noble who could employ them, and were ever ready to commit any
deed of violence their master might command. Eric kept as close to one
side of the road as he could to avoid giving cause of offence. They
eyed him narrowly as he passed, and especially looked at Hans, who wore
the livery of his house.
"Who can those people be?" asked Eric. "Their looks are far from
pleasant, nor did they deign to give us the usual salutation which
courtesy demands as they rode by."
"Alas! I know them well," answered Hans. "He who rode at their head is
no other than Baron Schenk of Schweinsburg, your father's greatest and,
I may say, only enemy. _If_ he guesses who you are, my dear young
master, I fear that he will not let us escape unmolested; for he is a
man who delights in blood and violence, and were not our Castle a strong
one, and defended by brave hearts and willing hands, it is my belief
that he would long ago have attacked it, and carried off all he could
find of value within. My advice, therefore, is that we put spurs to our
horses, and place as great a distance as we can as soon as possible
between him and ourselves. Hold on, little Platter, away we go!"
"Your advice is good, Hans," said Eric, as he urged on his steed. It
was likely to be of little avail, however, for at that instant the
clatter of horses' hoofs was heard, and looking round they saw that
half-a-dozen of the Baron's retainers were spurring after them. This,
of course, only made Eric and his attendant more anxious than ever to
escape. Their horses were good ones, and they might still distance
their pursuers.
"Let me drop, kind sir," exclaimed little Platter; "I am only delaying
you, and it little matters if I fall into the Baron's hands; I am not
worth killing!"
Hans laughed, and answered, "You would break your limbs if I let you go,
and your weight is but as that of a feather to my old steed Schwartz.
Hold on boy--hold on! We have promised to protect you, and we are not
the people to cast you off at the first sign of danger."
They galloped on as fast as their steeds could put feet to the ground;
but they had already performed a good day's journey, and were somewhat
tired. Their pursuers' horses, on the contrary, were fresh, it seemed,
and when Hans looked over his shoulder, he saw at once that they were
gaining on them. Still he was not a man to give in without an effort.
"We'll try it on a little longer, my young master, and then face about
and show them the edges of our swords. Maybe, like bullies in general,
they are cowards, and if we put on a bold front, they will make off."
This counsel was too good not to be followed. Still the Baron's
retainers were gaining on them. A wood was on either side. They might
dash into it, and make their escape, but that was not then a mode of
proceeding to suit Eric's taste. "Now then we'll do as you suggest,
Hans," he exclaimed. Pulling up their steeds, they turned sharply round
and drew their swords. This, however, did not produce the effect they
had hoped. They now saw, indeed, that the remainder of the band were
coming up. At this moment little Platter let himself slip from behind
Hans to the ground, saying, as he did so, "I can be of no service to you
here; but I can, maybe, if I get away."
Before the horsemen came up he had darted into the wood, where, had they
thought it worth while searching, they would have had no little
difficulty in finding him.
"There is no use fighting, I fear, my young master," said Hans,
unwillingly sheathing his sword.
"We are outnumbered, and it will only be giving our foes an excuse for
slaying us should we attempt to resist them."
Eric, seeing the wisdom of the old soldier's advice, likewise returned
his sword into the scabbard. When the Baron's retainers came and
surrounded them, he demanded, in a firm voice, what they required.
"We are to conduct you to our lord. He will question you as he thinks
fit," answered one of the men, seizing Eric's bridle. Another took hold
of Hans' bridle, and, with a couple of men on either side of them, they
were conducted along the road.
They had not gone far, when they were met by the Baron.
"Ah, my young sir, you are I understand Eric von Lindburg; I have at
length got a hostage for your father's good behaviour," he exclaimed,
exultingly. "You will find pleasant lodging in the Castle of
Schweinsburg, for the next few years or more of your life, if your
father does not yield to my demands. I have long been looking for this
opportunity, now it has arrived. Ha, ha, ha!"
Eric kept a dignified silence, merely saying, "I am in your power, Baron
Schweinsburg. I cannot choose, but do what you command."
This calm reply somewhat annoyed the Baron.
"Ah, we shall find you a tongue ere long, young sir," he observed, with
a savage expression, as they rode along.
The party went on at a rapid rate till it was nearly dark, when they
stopped at an hostelry to refresh themselves, a strong guard being
placed in the room into which the prisoners were conducted. The moon
then rising, they continued their journey, and at length, perched on a
rocky height, the grey walls of the old Castle of Schweinsburg rose
before them. A steep pathway led them up to a bridge thrown across a
deep chasm, which almost completely surrounded the building, and had
rendered it impregnable to the assaults of foes armed only with the
engines of ancient warfare. In the court-yard the Baron ordered them to
dismount; and four armed men conducted them up a winding staircase to a
room at the top of a high tower, from which, unless provided with wings,
there seemed but little chance of escaping.
In a short time their luggage was brought up to them, followed by a
tolerably substantial supper.
"The Baron does not intend to starve us, at all events," observed old
Hans. "Come, my dear young master, eat and keep up your spirits.
Matters might have been much worse. Perhaps we may ere long find some
means of escaping, let the Baron guard us ever so carefully. At all
events, let us hope for the best."