CHAPTER XV.

Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive

Transcriber's Note:

1. Page scan source:

http://www.archive.org/details/ekkehardtaleofte02scheuoft

COLLECTION

OF

GERMAN AUTHORS.

VOL. 22.

* * * * *

EKKEHARD BY JOSEPH VICTOR SCHEFFEL.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. II.

EKKEHARD.

A TALE OF THE TENTH CENTURY

BY

JOSEPH VICTOR SCHEFFEL.

_Authorized Edition_.

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN

BY

SOFIE DELFFS.

IN TWO VOLUMES.--VOL. II.

LEIPZIG 1872

BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ.

LONDON: SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE & RIVINGTON.

CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET.

PARIS: C. REINWALD, 15, RUE DES SAINTS PERES.

CONTENTS

OF VOLUME II.

CHAPTER XV. Hadumoth

XVI. Cappan gets married

XVII. Gunzo verso Ekkehard

XVIII. Master Spazzo the Chamberlain's Mission

XIX. Burkhard the Cloister-Pupil

XX. The old German Legends

XXI. Rejection and Flight

XXII. On the Wildkirchlein

XXIII. On the Ebenalp

XXIV. The Song of Waltari

XXV. The last Echo, and End

EKKEHARD.

CHAPTER XV.

Hadumoth.

The night, which had appeared long and dreary to those who had been

entrusted with the watch on the battle-field, was passing away. The

horror of Death lay over the whole valley. "The Lord be merciful unto

their souls," sounded the low-voiced call of the watchman. "And deliver

them from the sufferings of purgatory, Amen!" was the response of his

companions, who were cowering round a campfire, on the border of the

pine-wood. The deep black shadows of night lay over the bodies of the

slain, as if the Heavens compassionately wished to hide what human

hands had done there. At dawn of day, even the clouds disappeared, as

if they also were driven away by the horror of the sight beneath them;

others came, and likewise fled, ever changing their shapes and forms;

losing one to assume another,--everything is restless, except in Death,

where eternal rest is found. Friend and enemy, side by side as they had

fallen, still lay there; quiet and calm.

One slight figure like that of a child, the watchman saw gliding over

the battle-field. It bent down; walked on, and bent down again, and

ever continued its search; but he dared not call to it. He stood like

one that is spell-bound. "Probably it is the angel who is marking their

foreheads with a letter, so that they can be recognized, when the

spirit will return to their bodies, on the day of resurrection,"

thought he, remembering the words of the prophet. Silently he crossed

himself, and when he looked again, the figure had vanished.

The morning dawned, and there came a number of men from the arrier-ban,

to relieve the monks. The Duchess had sent them; although Simon Bardo

was not quite satisfied with this arrangement. "A victory is but half a

victory, if it is not followed up, by pursuit of the enemy. We ought to

go after them, until the last of them are annihilated," he said. But

the monks insisted on their return on account of the Easter holidays,

and the others said: "Before we could catch those, on their swift

horses, we should have far to go. They have come to us, and we have

beaten them, and if they should come again, we have more blows in store

for them;--the work of yesterday deserves rest."

Then it was determined upon, that the dead should be buried before the

break of Easter Sunday.

So the men fetched their spades and hoes, and dug two wide graves. On

one side of the field there was an abandoned gravel-pit, which they

widened into a spacious resting-place. This last was destined for the

dead Huns. Arms and harnesses were taken off and collected; forming a

considerable heap in all. Then the corpses were thrown down; one after

the other, as they were brought. It was a mass of torn members,

repulsive to the eye; men and horses in wild confusion; a throng, as

when the rebellious host of angels fell down into hell.

The pit was filled. One of the grave-diggers came and brought a

solitary head with cleft forehead and fierce expression. "Most likely

that belongs also to the heathens, and may look for its trunk below,"

quoth he, throwing it down into the pit.

When the whole field had been searched, without their discovering any

more Hunnic bodies, they covered up the huge grave. It was a burial

without solemnity;--sundry curses, instead of blessings were called

down, and ravens and other birds of prey, hoarsely screeching,

fluttered about in great numbers. Those who inhabited the rocks on the

Hohenkraehen, and the dark pine-wood beneath, had all come, Moengal's

hawk among them; and they were evidently protesting by their cries,

against thus losing their rightful prey. With a hollow sound the clods

of earth and pebbles fell into the wide grave. Then the deacon of

Singen came, with the vase of consecrated water, with which he

sprinkled the mound, in order to banish the demons, and keep down the

dead who rested in the stranger earth. A weatherbeaten piece of rock,

which had some time since fallen down from the Hohentwiel, was finally

rolled on to the Hunnic grave, and then they went away shivering, to

get ready the second tomb, which was to receive their own dead. All

those who had belonged to the ecclesiastical state, were to be buried

in the cloister-church at Reichenau.

At the same hour in which the battle had begun the day before, a solemn

procession descended from the Hohentwiel. These were the men who had

won the battle. They advanced in the same order as on the day before,

but their gait was slow, and their standard was muffled in black crape.

On the watchtower of the castle, the black flag had likewise been

hoisted. The Duchess herself, rode also with the train, dressed in dark

sober-coloured garments, which gave an unusually serious and severe

expression to her face. The dead monks were carried on biers, to the

brink of the great tomb, so that they should participate in the last

homage rendered to their fellow-champions. When the last notes of the

litany had died away, Abbot Wazmann approached the open grave,

pronouncing the farewell greeting and offering up the thanks of the

survivors to the ninety six who lay there so pale and still, side by

side.

"Blessed be their memory, and may their remains rest in peace, until

the day of resurrection! May their names descend unto posterity, and

may the glory of the holy champions, bring down a blessing on their

children!" Thus he spoke in the words of the Preacher, throwing down

when he had ended the first handful of earth; the Duchess, as well as

the others following his example one by one. After this, there ensued a

solemn silence, as all those who had fought together on the day before,

were to separate again after the funeral; and many a hard-featured face

waxed soft; and many a kiss and hearty shake of the hand were exchanged

at parting.

Those of the Reichenau, were the first who set out for their monastery.

The biers with the dead were carried along; the brothers walking by

their sides, bearing lighted tapers, and chanting psalms. The corpse of

the old man from the Heidenhoehlen, long weary of life, they had also

taken along with them. With bent-down head, the war-horse of the

unknown warrior, covered with a black cloth, walked by its side. It was

a gloomy and sad spectacle withal, to see the long funeral train slowly

enter the pinewood, and then disappear amid the gloom.

The next to take leave of the Duchess, were the remaining arrier-ban

men. The gaunt Friedinger, with his arm in a sling, rode down the

valley at the head of a troop. Only the Knight of Randegg, with a few

select soldiers, was to be garrisoned on the Hohentwiel.

With unfeigned emotion, Dame Hadwig, followed the departing ones with

her eyes and then slowly rode over the battle-field. The day before she

had stood on the tower, anxiously watching the turn the battle was

taking.

Master Spazzo, was now called upon to explain a good many things, and

although he evidently did not shrink from exaggerating a little here

and there, the Duchess seemed well satisfied. She did not speak to

Ekkehard.

When she too had returned home, the plain became silent and forsaken

again, as if nothing at all had happened there. Only the trampled

grass, the wet, reddish earth, and the two huge tombs, bore witness to

the harvest which Death had held there, but the day before. It was not

long, before the blood was dried up, and the grass had grown afresh.

The mounds under which the dead rested, were covered with moss and

creepers. Wind, and birds had carried seeds there; and bushes and trees

had sprung up in rich luxuriance,--for plants thrive well, where the

dead are buried. But the tale of the battle with the Huns, is still

living in the memory of the present generation. The piece of rock which

had been rolled upon the grave, is called the "Heidenbock"

(Heathenbuck), by the inhabitants of the Hegau, and in the night of

Good-Friday, there is nobody who would like to pass the valley. In that

night, earth and air belong to the dead, who are then supposed to arise

from their graves. Then the small, swift-footed horses dart about

again; the dark columns of the christian champions on foot, eagerly

press forward; the armour glittering from under the decayed habits of

the monks. The clatter of arms and wild war-cries, rise, louder than

the tempest; and fiercely rages the battle of the spirits in the air,

when suddenly from yonder island in the lake, a knight in shining gilt

armour, on a black steed comes hurrying along, and drives them all back

into their cool resting-places. Vainly the Hunnic chieftain tries to

resist him, angrily lifting his crooked sword; but at that moment, the

heavy battle-axe descends on his head,--and he must go down like the

rest ... and everything is silent as before; only the young leaves of

the tender birch-tree, are trembling in the wind ...

Easter Sunday passed drearily and sadly. In the evening Dame Hadwig sat

in the hall, with Ekkehard, Master Spazzo the chamberlain, and the

Knight of Randegg. It can be easily imagined what their talk was about.

The great events of the past days found an echo in all their thoughts

and speeches; like to the echo of the Lurlei-rock in the Rhine:

scarcely has the first tone died away in one place, when a hollow,

rolling sound, takes it up again in the next, and so it goes on,

reverberating from all sides, as if it were never going to end.

The Abbot of Reichenau, had sent a messenger to report that they had

found the monastery but slightly damaged; unharmed by fire. Further,

that they had destroyed all traces of the Huns, by carrying the holy

relics about, and by the sprinkling of consecrated water, everywhere;

and finally that the dead had been buried.

"And what became of the brother who stayed behind?" asked the Duchess.

"On him, the Lord our God has shown, that in His mercy He does not

forget, poor, childish minds, in the midst of danger and peril. On our

return, he stood on the threshold, as if nothing whatever had happened

to him. 'Well, how didst thou like the Huns?' one of us called out to

him, upon which he said with his customary smile: 'Well then, they have

pleased me very much indeed. Never have I seen such jolly fellows

before; and as for eating and drinking,--they are wonderfully

considerate! The father cellarer has never taken the slightest notice

of my being thirsty; but _they_ gave me wine, as much as I wanted,--and

if they dealt me sundry blows, and boxes on the ear, they made it up

again with the wine; and that is more than any of you would ever have

done. Only discipline was wanting,--and besides they have not yet

learned how to behave in church' ... further he could say still many a

thing in praise of the stranger guests, but this, Heribald added, he

would only reveal under the seal of confession." ...

Dame Hadwig was as yet not inclined for amusement. She graciously

dismissed the messenger, giving him the finely wrought coat-of-mail of

the slain Hunnic chieftain, in order that it might be hung up in the

cloister-church, as a lasting token of the past battle. The duty of

distributing the booty, was hers, according to the general desire.

Master Spazzo, whose tongue had not been lazy all this time in

recounting his warlike deeds,--and the number of the Huns he had slain

increased with every recital, like a falling avalanche,--now said with

emphasis: "I have still got a war-trophy to present, which I have

destined for my gracious mistress herself."

He then went down to the under apartments, in one of which, Cappan his

prisoner, lay on a bundle of straw. His wound had been dressed, and had

proved not to be dangerous. "Get up, thou son of the Devil!" cried

Master Spazzo, adding a rude kick to this invitation. The Hun rose; his

face wearing a somewhat dubious expression, as if he did not believe

that his life was to last much longer. Thus he limped through the room,

leaning on a stick. "Forwards!" said Master Spazzo, indicating the

direction in which he was to go. So they went up stairs and entered the

hall. Here an imperious, "stop," from Master Spazzo, made the

unfortunate wretch stand still, casting his eyes around with evident

surprise.

With kindly interest Dame Hadwig looked at the strange specimen of

humanity before her. Praxedis also had come near, and turning to Master

Spazzo said: "One cannot say much for the beauty of your war-trophy,

but it is curious enough."

The Duchess folded her hands: "And this is the nation before whom the

German empire has trembled!" exclaimed she.

"The terror was caused by the multitude, and their always keeping

together," said the Knight of Randegg. "They won't come back again so

easily, that's sure!"

"Are you so very certain of this?" asked she pointedly.

The Hun did not understand much of the conversation. His wounded foot

hurt him, but he did not dare to sit down. Praxedis addressed him in

Greek, but he shyly shook his head. Then she tried to get up an

understanding, by dint of signs and nods,--but this too was in vain.

"Allow me," said she to the Duchess, "I still know of a way, to make

him give us a sign of life, which I have heard of at Constantinople."

Gliding out of the hall, she presently returned, carrying a cup, which

she presented with mock deference to the dumb prisoner. It was a strong

liquor, distilled from cherries and stone-fruit; such as the late

castle-chaplain had loved to concoct now and then. At the sight of

this, the Hun's face became radiant; his blunt nose, sniffed up the

rising aroma, and emptying the cup, which he evidently regarded as a

sign of peace, he threw himself down with crossed arms before Praxedis,

and kissed her shoe.

She made him a sign that the homage was due to the Duchess, upon which

he wanted to repeat his thanks to her; but Dame Hadwig stepped back,

and beckoned to Master Spazzo, to take his prisoner away again.

"You have queer fancies," said she to him, when he had returned,

"however, it was gallant of you, to think of me, even in battle."

Meanwhile, Ekkehard had been silently sitting at the window, looking

out over the country. Master Spazzo's ways annoyed him, and even

Praxedis's jokes, had hurt his feelings. "In order to humiliate us,"

thought he, "the Lord has sent over the children of the desert, to be a

warning to us, and to teach us, even on the ruins of that which is

perishable, to think of that which is eternal;--the earth which covers

the bodies of the slain is still fresh, and those left behind are

already jesting, as if all had been but an empty dream." ...

Praxedis had approached him, and now playfully said: "Why did not you

likewise bring home some keepsake from the battle, Professor? A

wonderful, Hunnic amazon is said to have skirmished about there, and if

you had caught her, we should now have a nice pair of them."

"Ekkehard had to think of higher things than Hunnic women," said the

Duchess bitterly, "and he knows how to be silent, as one who has taken

a vow for that purpose. Why should we need to know, how _he_ fared in

battle!"

This cutting speech, deeply wounded the serious-minded man. A jest at

the wrong moment, falls like vinegar on honey-dew. Silently he walked

out to fetch Sir Burkhard's sword, and drawing it out of the scabbard,

he laid it on the table before the Duchess. Fresh, red spots were still

glistening on the noble blade, and the edge showed many a new notch,

here and there. "Whether the schoolmaster was idle all the time, this

sword may bear witness! I have not made my tongue the herald of my

deeds!"

The Duchess was startled. She still bore him a grudge in her heart, and

she was sorely tempted, to give it vent, in an angry outburst. But the

sword of Sir Burkhard called up manifold thoughts. So, restraining her

passion, she held out her hand to Ekkehard. "I did not wish to offend

you," said she.

The mildness of her voice was like a reproach to him, and he hesitated

to take the proffered hand. He almost wanted to ask her pardon for his

roughness, but the words clove to his tongue,--and at that moment, the

door opened, and he was spared the rest.

Hadumoth, the little geese-driver came in. Shyly she stopped at the

door, not venturing to speak. Her face, which was pale from want of

sleep, bore the traces of recent tears.

"What is the matter with thee, my poor child?" called out Dame Hadwig,

"come hither!"

Then the little maiden came forwards, and kissed the Duchess's hand.

She tried to speak, but violent sobs prevented her.

"Don't be afraid," said the Duchess soothingly; upon which she found

words and said: "I cannot take care of the geese any more; I must go

away, and thou must give me a goldpiece, as big as thou hast got. I

cannot help it, but I must go!"

"And why must thou go, my child?" asked the Duchess. "Has anyone

wronged thee?"

"He has not come home again!"

"There are many who have not come home again; but thou must not go away

on that account. Those who have fallen, are now with our dear Lord in

heaven. They are in a large, beautiful garden, and are much happier

than we are."

But Hadumoth, shaking her young little head, said: "Audifax is not with

God; he is with the Huns. I have searched for him down in the valley,

and he was not amongst the dead men. Besides, the charcoal-burners' boy

from Hohenstoffeln, who also went out with the archers, saw himself,

how he was taken prisoner. I must go, to fetch him. I can find no peace

if I don't!"

"But how wilt thou find him?"

"That, I don't know. I shall go where the others went. They say that

the world is very wide, but in the end I shall find him. I feel sure of

it. The goldpiece which thou art to give me, I will give to the Huns,

and say: let me have Audifax for this, and when I have got him, we

shall both come home again."

Dame Hadwig delighted in all that was extraordinary. "From that child,

we might all learn something!" she said, lifting up the shy little

Hadumoth to imprint a kiss on her forehead. "God is with thee, without

thy knowing it. Therefore, thy thoughts are great and bold. Who amongst

you has a gold coin?"

The Knight of Randegg fetched one out of the depth of his pocket. It

was a large golden Thaler, on one side of which could be seen the

Emperor Charles with a stern face, and wide open eyes, and on the other

a crowned female head. "It's my last one," said he laughingly, handing

it to Praxedis. The Duchess then gave it to the child. "Go out then,

with the Lord; it is a decree of providence."

All were deeply touched, and Ekkehard put his hands on the little

maiden's head, as if to bless her. "I thank you!" said she, turning to

go; then once more looking round she added: "but if they will not let

me have Audifax, for one goldpiece only?"

"Then I will give thee another," said the Duchess.

Upon this, the child confidently walked away.

And Hadumoth really went out into the unknown world. The goldpiece,

sewn up in her bodice, her pocket filled with bread, and the staff

which Audifax had once cut for her, from the dark green holly-bush, in

her hand. That she did not know the way, and that her finding food and

a shelter for the night, were doubtful things, she had not time to

trouble herself about. The Huns have gone away, towards the setting

sun, and have taken him with them, was her sole thought. The flowing

Rhine, and the setting sun were her only waymarks, and Audifax her

goal.

By and by, the scenery became strange to her; the Bodensee looking

smaller and narrower in the distance, and foreign hills rising before

her, to hide the proud and familiar shape of the hill, which was her

home. More than once, did she look back, until she had caught the last

glimpse of the Hohentwiel, with its walls and towers steeped in dark

blue shadows. Then she entered an unknown valley, grown with dark

pine-woods, under the shade of which, low, straw-thatched cottages lay

hidden. Nodding a last Goodbye to her Hegau mountains, Hadumoth walked

on undauntedly.

When the sun had gone down to his rest behind the pine-woods, she

stopped a while. "Now they are ringing the bell for evening-prayer at

home," said she. "I will pray also." So she knelt down in the woody

solitude and prayed; first for Audifax, then for the Duchess, and

finally for herself. Everything was silent around her. She only heard

her own fast-beating heart.

"What will become of my poor geese?" thought she next, rising from her

knees, "'tis now the hour to drive them home." Then Audifax with whom

she had so often returned home of an evening, rose again before her

mind and she hurried on.

In the different farm-yards which she passed in the valley, not a soul

was stirring about; only before one little straw-thatched cottage, an

old woman was sitting. "Thou must take me in for the night,

grandmother," said Hadumoth coaxingly; but except a sign that she could

remain, she received no answer whatever, for the old woman was deaf.

When the people had fled up into the mountains on account of the Huns,

she alone had remained behind.

Before the day had well dawned, Hadumoth had already set out again on

her journey. Her road now took her through extensive woods, in which

the fir-trees seemed never to come to an end. Here, the first soft

touches of spring were already visible. The first flowers were peeping

out from the moss; and the first beetles hovered above them, softly

humming; and the delicious smell of the pine-trees scented the air

everywhere, as if it were an incense, which the trees sent up to the

sun, to show their gratitude for all which his rays had called up into

life, around them.

The little maiden, however, was not satisfied. "Here it is far too

beautiful, for the Huns to be," said she to herself. So, at the first

opportunity which offered itself, she turned her back on the mountains,

and soon came to an opening in the wood, which afforded a considerable

view. Far down, in the distance, the Rhine was winding along, like a

serpent. Jammed in between its dividing arms was an island, bearing

many a stately tower and wall, as if belonging to a monastery; but

Hadumoth's sharp eyes discerned that the walls were blackened and

spotted, and the roofs all destroyed. A dark-blue cloud of smoke, hung

heavily over it.

"How do they call the land here?" asked she of a man, who was just then

emerging from the wood.

"Blackforest," was the answer.

"And over there?"

"Rheingau."

"The Huns must have been there?"

"The day before yesterday."

"And where are they now?"

The man, leaning on his staff gave a sharp look at the child, and

pointing down the Rhine, said, "and why dost thou ask?"

"Because I wish to go to them."--Upon this he lifted his staff and

walked on, murmuring, "holy Fintan, pray for us!"

Hadumoth also, steadily walked on again. She had noticed from the

height, that the Rhine was flowing onwards in large circuits; so she

cut across the mountains, thus to get the start on the Huns. Two days

she thus wandered on, sleeping one night in the open air, on the mossy

ground, and scarcely meeting a human being all the time. She had to

cross however many a wild ravine, and swift-flowing mountain torrent,

as well as mighty old pine-trees, which the storm had uprooted. On the

same place where they had once stretched their tops towards the sky,

they now lay to rot and decay; emitting a weird, greyish light at

night; but in spite of all terrors and difficulties, she never once

lost her courage.

At last the mountains became less steep, flattening down into an

elevated plain, over which the rough winds could sweep at their

leisure; and in the crevices of which the snow was still lying;--yet

she walked on.

The last piece of bread had been eaten, when from another hill, she

again caught sight of the Rhine. So she now turned, to walk towards it,

until she came to a narrow chasm, in the depth of which, a foaming

mountain-torrent dashed along. A dense mass of brambles and other

thorny bushes, grew on the sides of the steep descent, but Hadumoth

bravely made for herself a passage through them; though this cost her

no small amount of pain and weariness. The sun was high in the heavens,

and the thorns ever and anon, caught hold of her dress; but whenever

her feet grew weary and unwilling to proceed, she said, "Audifax!" and

lifted them up again.

At last she had come to the bottom, and was standing at the foot of

dark rocky walls, through which the waters had made a passage; falling

down in a bright, sparkling cascade. The old-looking stones, on which a

reddish moss was growing, glistened and shone like burnished gold

through the glittering waves, which rose up against them; alternately

covering them up, until they arrested their mad course, a few steps

lower down, in a dark-green, transparent little pond, like to a

life-wearied man, going to rest, and looking back in quiet

contemplation, on the frolics and extravagances of his past life.

Luxurious, broad-leaved plants grew around it, on which the spray lay

like sparkling dew-drops, whilst blue-winged dragon-flies, hovered

above them, as if they were the spirits of dead flowers.

Dreamily the melodious rustling of the waters crept into the heart of

the hungry child. With that brook she must go on, to the Rhine.

Everything was wild and entangled, as if never a human being had broken

in upon that solitude ... and now a dry, green little nook looked

invitingly over at Hadumoth; and she followed the invitation, and laid

herself down. The air was so cool and fresh, and the brook rustled and

murmured on, until it had lulled her to sleep. With her head resting on

her outstretched right arm, she lay there; a smile playing on her tired

countenance. She was dreaming. Of whom?--The blue dragonflies betrayed

nothing ...

A slight sprinkling of water awoke her from her dreams, and when she

slowly opened her eyes, a man with a long beard, dressed in a coarse

linen suit, and with legs bared to the knees, stood before her. Some

fishing-tackle, a net and a wooden tub, in which blue-spotted trout

were swimming, lay in the grass, beside him. He had thus stood for a

considerable time, watching the little sleeper, and doubting whether

she were a human child, he sprinkled some water on her, to wake her.

"Where am I? asked Hadumoth, fearlessly.

"At the waterfall of Wieladingen," replied the fisherman, "and this

water, which contains plenty of fine salmon, is called the Murg, and

goes into the Rhine. But whence dost thou come, little maiden? Hast

thou dropt from the sky?"

"I come from far away, and where I live, the hills are quite different

from here. With us, they grow quite straight out of the plain; each one

standing alone,--and the salmon swim about in the lake, and are much

bigger. Hegau, our land is called."

The fisherman shook his head. "That must be a good way off. And where

art thou going to?"

"To the Huns," replied Hadumoth; and then she told him why she had gone

out into the world, and for whom she was searching.

Upon this the fisherman shook his head again, with redoubled energy.

"By the life of my mother!" exclaimed he, "that is an adventurous

expedition!" but Hadumoth, folding her hands pleadingly said:

"Fisherman, thou must show me the way to find them."

Then the long-bearded man was touched. "If it must be, so come

along," grumbled he. "They are not very far off." Gathering up his

fishing-tackle, he followed the course of the brook, accompanied by the

little maiden. Whenever the trees and bushes became too much entangled,

or when bits of rocks blocked up the way, he took her up in his arms,

and carried her through the foaming waters. After leaving the ravine to

their right, they soon came to the spur of the hill, at the foot of

which the Rhine flows.

"Look there, child," said he pointing across the river to a low level

mountain tract. "Over there, you get into the Frick-valley at the foot

of the Boetzberg. There, they have pitched their camp, after burning the

castle of Laufenburg yesterday ... but farther than this, the murderous

incendiaries shall not proceed," added he fiercely.

After walking on for a while, Hadumoth's guide stopped before a

projecting rock. "Wait a bit," said he. He then took up some logs of

dry fir-wood, that lay about, and heaped them up into a pile, putting

some smaller branches of resinous pinewood, between. He did not light

it though. The same thing he did again in sundry other places. Hadumoth

looked on, but could not guess, why he was doing this. At last they

descended to the banks of the Rhine.

"Art thou really in earnest about the Huns?" asked he once more.

"Yes," said Hadumoth. Upon this he loosened a small canoe, which had

been hidden in the bushes, and rowed her across. On the other side they

came right into a wood, which the man entered, always looking carefully

about, everywhere. Here also, were piles of wood mixed with resin and

covered with green branches. Nodding contentedly he returned to

Hadumoth. "Further than this I cannot accompany thee; for yonder is the

Frick-valley and the Hunnic camp. Take care that they give thee that

boy at once; better to-day, than to-morrow. It might otherwise be too

late. And so, may God protect thee! Thou art a brave child."

"I thank thee," said Hadumoth, pressing his horny hand. "But why dost

thou not come with me?"

"I shall come later," replied the fisherman with a significant look,

stepping back into his canoe.

At the entrance of the valley was the Hunnic camp; consisting of some

tents, and a few larger huts made of branches and straw. The horses

were lodged in blockhouses of pine-logs. At the back was a mountain,

whilst in front they had made a trench; fortified by a kind of

palisade, made with paling and pieces of rock, in the genuine Hunnic

fashion. Their sentinels rode up and down, within a considerable

circumference. The reason of their having settled down there for a

while, was partly their needing some rest after their late exploits,

and partly an intended attack on the convent of St. Fridolin, situated

in that neighbourhood. Some of their men, were building ships and rafts

on the banks of the Rhine.

In his tent, lay Hornebog, who was now sole leader since Ellak's death;

but in spite of all the cushions and carpets heaped up there, he could

find no rest. Erica, the flower-of-the-Heath, was sitting by his side,

playing with a golden bauble, which she wore round her neck on a silk

ribbon.

"I don't know why," said Hornebog to her, "but things have become very

uncomfortable. Those bald-headed monks have dealt us rather too heavy

blows. We must not be quite so rash in future. Here also, I do not feel

quite at my ease, for it is too still, and a calm generally precedes a

storm. With thee too, everything is changed, since Ellak was killed.

Thou shouldst love me now, as thou didst him, when he was the first

leader; but thou art like a burnt-out fire."

Erica pulled away the jewel with a jerk, so that it rebounded on her

bosom with a metallic ring, and softly hummed some Hunnic melody. Then

there entered one of the Hunnic sentinels, accompanied by Hadumoth and

Snewelin of Ellwangen as interpreter. The child had entered the camp,

bravely passing the posts and not heeding their calls, until they

stopped her. Snewelin then explained Hadumoth's wish, with regard to

the prisoner boy. He was in as soft and compassionate a mood, as if he

were still in his home, and about to celebrate Ash-Wednesday, for he

had summed up on that very day, all the misdeeds which he had committed

in the course of his Hunnic life; and the pillaged convents began to

weigh heavily on his conscience.

"Tell them also, that I can pay them a ransom," said Hadumoth, undoing

the seam of her bodice to get at the gold piece. She handed it to the

chieftain, who laughed immoderately, joined by Erica.

"What a crazy land!" exclaimed Hornebog, when his laughter had

subsided. "The men cut off their hair, and the children do, what would

honour a warrior. If instead of this little maiden, the armed men from

the lake had followed us, it would have put us into an awkward

position."

A sudden suspicion now crossing his mind, he cast a searching look at

the child. "If she were a spy!" ... exclaimed he. But Erica now rose,

and patted Hadumoth's head. "Thou shalt stay with me," said she, "for I

want something to play with, since my black horse is dead, and my Ellak

is dead." ...

"Take the brat away!" Hornebog now called out angrily. "Have we come

here, to play with children?" Then Erica saw that a storm was brewing

in the chieftain's bosom, and taking the little maiden by the hand, led

her out.

There, where the camp receded towards the mountain, between some

sheltering pieces of rock, a temporary cooking-place had been erected,

which was the undisputed realm of the woman of the wood. Audifax was

kneeling before the biggest of the kettles, blowing into the fire, in

which the soup, that was destined for the evening meal, was boiling.

But now he jumped up and gave a loud shriek, for he had beheld his

little friend. Instantly the old hag stretched out her head, from

behind the other kettle, and this was more than a warning. Without

moving, he stirred the soup with a peeled branch, as was his prescribed

task. Thus he stood, the image of dumb grief. He had become pale and

haggard; and his eyes dimmed by the tears, which had touched nobody.

"Mind, that thou dost not hurt the children, old baboon!" cried Erica.

Then Hadumoth went over to where the boy was, who now dropped his

primitive spoon, and silently held out his hand to her; but out of his

dark blue eyes there came a look, which told its own story of woe and

suffering, and the longing wish, to regain his liberty. Hadumoth

likewise, stood quietly before him. She had often imagined a joyous and

touching meeting, but all these pictures had faded away now. The

greatest joy sends its gratitude up to heaven, in a voiceless prayer.

"Give me a dish of soup Audifax," said she, "I am very hungry."

The woman of the wood suffered him to pour out some soup for her, into

a wooden plate, which the hungry child eagerly took. When she had

stilled the craving for food, her spirits rose again, and she

fearlessly gazed on the wild faces of the Hunnic riders, who came to

fetch their soup. Afterwards she sat down close beside Audifax. He was

still silent and reserved, and only when it became dark and his tyrant

went away, his tongue got loosened. "Oh, I have so much to tell thee

Hadumoth!" whispered he. "I know where the treasure of the Huns is! The

woman of the wood has got it in her keeping. Two big boxes stand under

her couch, in yonder hut. I have looked into them myself, and they were

quite full of jewels and diadems and golden trinkets. A silver hen,

with a brood of chickens, and eggs is also amongst them, which they

stole in Lombardy,--and many more beautiful things. I have paid dearly

for seeing them though ..."

He lifted up his leathern hat. One half of his right ear had been cut

off.

"... The woman of the wood, came home before I could close the lid

again. 'Take that, for thy reward,' said she, lifting her scissors up

to my ear. It has hurt me a good deal Hadumoth, but I shall pay her

back some day!"

"I will help thee," said his companion.

For a long time, the two whispered on together; for no sleep came to

the eyes of the happy ones. The noise in the camp was hushed now, and

the shadows of night brooded over the valley. Then Hadumoth said: "I

must ever and again, think of that night when the stars fell down."

Audifax, heaving a sigh, murmured: "Ah, I shall still get my treasure.

I know I shall." And again they sat quietly together for a while; until

Audifax gave a violent start. Hadumoth could feel the trembling of his

hand. On the other side of the Rhine, on the summit of the black

looking mountains, a sudden light shone out. It was like a torch swung

around, and then thrown away.

"There, it's gone again!" Audifax said softly.

"Ah, but look there!" affrightedly exclaimed Hadumoth, pointing behind

her.

From the height of the Boetzberg, another flame darted up; likewise

describing a fiery circuit in the air. It was the same signal. And

yonder, over in the Blackforest, on the same place where the burning

torch had first been visible, there now arose a mighty flame, lighting

up the dark, starless night. The guard in the valley, uttered a

piercing whistle, and the inhabitants of the camp began to stir

everywhere. The woman of the wood came back also, and threateningly

called out; "what art thou dreaming about boy? Quick, put the nags to

the cart, and saddle my sumpter-horse!"

Audifax silently obeyed her orders.

The cart stood ready, and the sumpter-horse was tied to a stake.

Carefully, the old woman approached it with two panniers, which she

hung over its back, and then taking out the two boxes, from her hut,

she put one in each, covering them up afterwards, with some hay. When

she had done this, she peered out anxiously into the darkness.

Everything was quiet again. The wine of the Frick-valley had ensured a

sound sleep to the Hunnic warriors.

"'Tis nothing," muttered the woman of the wood, "we can take the horses

back again;" but the next moment she started up, almost blinded. The

mountains rising behind the camp, had suddenly become alive with

hundreds of torches and fire-brands; and from all sides there resounded

the loud and terrific cry of battle. From the Rhine, dark masses of

armed men, were swiftly approaching;--on all the mountain summits,

tremendous bonfires were burning.--Up now, ye sleepers!... it was too

late, for already the fire-brands came flying into the Hunnic camp.

Pitifully sounded the frightened neighing of the horses, whose large

shed was already burning. Dark figures stormed the camp on all sides.

This time, King Death was coming with blazing torchlight, and he who

brought him, was the old Knight Irminger, the owner of the Frickgau.

He, the strong father of six strong sons; who like Mattathias with his

Maccabeans, could no longer bear to behold the misery of his people.

And with them there came the men of Hornussen and Herznach; those from

the Aarthal and Brugg, as well as from Baden's hot wells; and far away

from the Gieselafluth. Safely hidden in the dark pine-wood, they had

waited until the torch was lifted up on the Eggberg, assuring them of

the neighbourly help of the people in the Black-Forest; and then they

rushed to the attack. With bleeding head, Snewelin galloped past. A

well-aimed fire-brand, had stuck to his garments, setting them all

ablaze, so that he looked like a fiery phantom. "The world is coming to

an end," cried he. "The millenium is at hand! May God have mercy on my

poor soul!"

"Lost, everything lost," muttered the woman of the wood, lifting her

hand up to her forehead. Then she untied the sumpter-horse, to harness

it likewise before her cart. Meanwhile Audifax was standing in the

dark, biting his lips that he might not scream out with delight, at

this unexpected turn of affairs. A trembling reflection of the flames,

played on his excited countenance. Everything was boiling within him.

For some time he stood there, gazing fixedly at the tumult, and the

fighting of the dark figures before him. "Now I know, what I must do,"

whispered he into Hadumoth's ear. He had taken up a big stone, and

springing up at the woman of the wood with the agility of a wild

cat, he struck her down. After this he quickly pulled away the

sumpter-horse, upon the saddle of which he placed the trembling

Hadumoth with the sudden strength of a man. "Take hold of the pommel!"

cried he. Then jumping up himself, he seized the reins, and the horse

no sooner felt the unwont burden, than it galloped off into the night,

frightened by the glare and noise around. Audifax never staggered,

though his heart was beating wildly. The blinding smoke made him shut

his eyes, and thus they sped onwards; over the corpses of the dead, and

through the crowds of fighting men. After a while the noise became

fainter in the distance, and the horse began to slacken its pace. It

was taking the children towards the Rhine,--they were saved!

Thus they rode on through the long, dark night, scarcely once daring to

look about them. Audifax silently held the reins, feeling as if he were

in a dream. First he put his hand on Hadumoth's head, and then struck

against one of the boxes, which, emitting a metallic ring, convinced

him that he was not dreaming, after all. The horse was good-tempered,

and carried its burden willingly enough, across fields, over heaths and

through dark woods, always in the direction of the Rhine. When they had

thus ridden on for a considerable time, a cool breeze, the messenger of

the coming dawn, made them shiver. Hadumoth opened her eyes, "Where are

we?" asked she.

"I don't know," replied Audifax. And now a roaring and rushing, like

distant thunder, struck their ear; but it could not be from a coming

storm, as the sky brightened, whilst the little stars waxed dimmer and

slowly vanished. The noise became louder and nearer. They passed a

stately castle, looking down proudly into the waters below. Then their

path took them round a little hill, and then they suddenly beheld the

broad flood of the Rhine; dashing along with a thundering noise, over

dark, weatherbeaten rocks. Clouds of pearly white spray, glistened in

the air, whilst soft mists hung around everywhere. The horse stopped,

as if it wanted to take in the grand spectacle at its leisure. Then

Audifax jumped to the ground, and taking down the tired, little

Hadumoth, as well as the two baskets, he allowed the brave animal to

graze.

So the two children stood before the falls of the Rhine; Hadumoth

tightly grasping her companion's right hand with her left; gazing long

and silently at the spectacle before them. Presently, the sun cast his

first rays on the dashing waters, which caught them and built them up

into a glittering, many-coloured rainbow.

Then Audifax went up to the baskets, to take out one of the boxes;

which on being opened, disclosed its glistening contents of pure gold

and silver. The long coveted treasure, was found at last; had become

his own; not by spells and nightly conjurations, but by the use of his

hands and by seizing the favourable opportunity. Thus he gazed on the

shining baubles without any surprise, for had he not known it for many

months, that such a treasure was destined for him?...

Of every kind of article it contained, he picked out one; a casket, a

ring, a coin and a bracelet, and with them approached the brink of the

waters.

"Hadumoth," said he, "here I think that God must be; for His rainbow is

hovering over the waters. I will make Him a thank-offering."

Stepping on a projecting rock, he flung in with a strong hand, first

the casket, then the ring, coin and bracelet,--and then kneeling down,

Hadumoth kneeling by his side, they prayed for a long time, and thanked

God....