Ekkehard Volume I Part 22

"Well you have forfeited a great piece of good fortune," continued Praxedis in her former tone. "If you had faithfully portrayed the features, who knows, whether we should not have made you Patriarch of Constantinople, in sign of our princely favour."

Steps were now heard outside. Praxedis quickly tore off the mantle from her shoulders, so that it dropped on her arm; just as the d.u.c.h.ess was standing before them.

"Are you again learning Greek?" said she reproachfully to Ekkehard.

"I have shown him the precious sardonyx, in the clasp of my mistress's mantle;--it is such a beautifully cut head," said Praxedis. "Master Ekkehard has much taste for antiquities, and he was greatly pleased with the stone ..."

Even Audifax made his preparations for Christmas. His hope of finding treasures being greatly diminished,--he now stuck more to the actual things around him. Often he descended at night-time, to the sh.o.r.es of the river Aach, which slowly flowed on towards the lake. Close to the rotten little bridge, stood a hollow willow-tree; before which, Audifax lay in ambush, many an hour; his raised stick directed towards the opening in the tree. He was on the look-out for an otter. But no philosopher trying to fathom the last cause of Being, ever found his task such a difficult one, as Audifax did his otter-hunting; for from the hollow tree, there was still many a subterranean outlet to the river, which the otter knew, and Audifax did not. And often when Audifax, trembling with cold, said: "Now it must come,"--he would hear a noise far up in the river, caused by his friend the otter putting its snout out of the water, to take a good breath of air; and when Audifax softly crept up to the place from whence the sound had come, the otter was lying on its back, and floating comfortably down the river.

In the kitchen on the Hohentwiel, there was great bustle and activity;--such as there is in the tent of a commander-in-chief, on the eve of a battle. Dame Hadwig herself stood amongst the serving maidens.

She did not wear her ducal mantle, but a white ap.r.o.n; and stood distributing flour and honey for the gingerbread. Praxedis was mixing, ginger, pepper and cinnamon, to flavour the paste with.

"What shape shall we take?" asked she. "The square with the serpents?"

"No, the big heart is prettier," said Dame Hadwig. So the gingerbread was made in the shape of hearts, and the finest was stuck with almonds and cardamom, by the d.u.c.h.ess's own hand.

One morning Audifax entered the kitchen, half frozen with cold, and crept up to the fire-place. His lips trembled as in a fever; but he seemed to be merry, and in high spirits. "Get ready, my boy," said Praxedis, "for this afternoon, thou must go to the forest and hew down a fir-tree."

"That is none of my business," proudly said Audifax, "but I will do it, if you will also do me a favour."

"And what does Master goat-herd desire?" asked Praxedis.

Audifax ran out, and on returning, triumphantly held up, a dark-brown otter's skin; glossy and soft to the touch.

"Where did you get that from?" asked Praxedis.

"I caught it myself," replied Audifax, looking with sparkling eyes at his booty. "You are to make a fur-cap out of it for Hadumoth."

The Greek maid, who liked the boy well, promised to fulfil his request.

The Christmas-tree was brought home, and adorned with apples and wax-lights. The d.u.c.h.ess arranged everything in the great hall. A man from Stein on the Rhine, had arrived and brought a basket, tightly sewn up in linen. He said that it was from St. Gall, and destined for Master Ekkehard. Dame Hadwig had the basket put unopened on the table with the other gifts.

Christmas-Eve had arrived. All the inhabitants of the castle were a.s.sembled, dressed in their best; for on that day, there was to be no separation, between masters and servants. Ekkehard read to them the story of Christ's nativity; and then they all went, two and two, into the great hall. There the Christmas-tree, with its many candles, lighted up the room splendidly. The last to enter were Audifax and Hadumoth. A little bit of tinsel, with which the nuts had been gilt, lay on the threshold. Audifax took it up. "That has fallen off, from the wings of the Christ-child," whispered Hadumoth.

On large tables, the presents for the serving people, were laid out; a piece of linen, or cloth, and some cakes. They rejoiced at the generosity of their mistress, which was not always so manifest. Beside the share allotted to Hadumoth, verily lay the fur-cap. She cried, when Praxedis kindly betrayed the giver to her. "I have got nothing for thee, Audifax," said she.

"It is instead of the golden crown," whispered he.

Men and maid-servants then offered their thanks to the d.u.c.h.ess, and went down again to the servants' hall. Dame Hadwig taking Ekkehard by the hand, led him to a little table apart. "This is meant for you,"

said she.

Between the almond-covered, gingerbread heart and the basket; there lay a handsome, velvet priest's cap, and a magnificent stole. Fringe and grounding were of gold thread, and embroideries of black silk, interwoven with pearls, ran through the latter; which was worthy indeed of a bishop.

"Let me see, how it becomes you," said Praxedis, and in spite of their ecclesiastical character, she put the cap on his head, and threw the stole over his shoulders. Ekkehard cast down his eyes. "Splendid,"

exclaimed she, "you may offer your thanks!"

Shyly Ekkehard put down the consecrated gifts; and then drawing the parchment roll from out his ample garment, he timidly presented it to the d.u.c.h.ess. Dame Hadwig held it unopened in her hand. "First we must open the basket," she said. "The best"--smilingly pointing to the parchment,--"must come last."

So they cut open the basket. Buried in hay, and well-preserved by winter's cold,--there lay a huge mountain-c.o.c.k. Ekkehard lifted it up.

With outspread wings, it measured above six feet. A letter accompanied this magnificent piece of feathered game.

"Read it aloud!" said the d.u.c.h.ess, whose curiosity was aroused.

Ekkehard breaking the clumsy seal then read as follows:

"To the venerable Brother Ekkehard on the Hohentwiel, through Burkard the cloister-pupil, from Romeias the gate-keeper.

"If there were two of them, one would be for you; but as I have not been lucky enough to get two, this one is not for you, and yours will come later. It is sent to you, on account of not knowing her name; but she was with the d.u.c.h.ess in the monastery on that day, and wore a dress of the colour of the green wood-p.e.c.k.e.r; and her tresses were fastened round her head.

"For her,--the bird; on account of continual thinking, on the part of him who shot it, of the walk to the recluses. It must be well macerated and roasted, because otherwise tough. In case of other guests, she is herself to eat the white flesh on the back-bone, because that is the best; the brown often having a resinous taste.

"With it, I wish her all blessings and happiness. To you venerable brother, likewise. If on your castle were wanting a watchman, porter or gamekeeper, you might recommend Romeias to the d.u.c.h.ess; who, on account of being mocked at by the steward, and of the complaints of that dragon, Wiborad, would gladly change his service. Practice in the office of gate-keeper, both giving admittance, and pitching out of strange visitors, can be testified to. The same with regard to hunting.

He is already now looking towards the Hohentwiel, as if a cord were drawing him thither.--Long life to you and to the Lady d.u.c.h.ess.

Farewell!"

A merry peal of laughter followed the reading of this curious epistle.

Praxedis had blushed all over. "That is a bad reward," angrily exclaimed she, "that you write letters in other people's name, to insult me!"

"Stop," said Ekkehard, "why should the letter not be genuine?"

"It would not be the first, that was forged by a monk," was Praxedis'

bitter reply. "Why need you laugh at that rough sportsman? He was by no means so bad!"

"Praxedis, be reasonable!" urged the d.u.c.h.ess. "Look at that mountain-c.o.c.k,--that has not been shot in the Hegau; and Ekkehard writes a somewhat different hand. Shall we give the pet.i.tioner a place on the Hohentwiel?"

"Pray don't!" cried Praxedis eagerly. "n.o.body is to believe that----"

"Very well," said Dame Hadwig, in a tone bespeaking silence. She then opened Ekkehard's parchment-roll. The painting at the beginning had succeeded pretty well; and any doubt of its meaning, was done away with, by the superscription of the names: Hadwigis, Virgilius and Ekkehard. A bold initial, with intricate golden arabesques headed the poem.

The d.u.c.h.ess was highly pleased. Ekkehard had never before given her any proof of his skill in art. Praxedis looked with an arch smile at the purple mantle, which the d.u.c.h.ess wore on the picture, as if she could tell something more about it.

Dame Hadwig made a sign to Ekkehard, to read and explain the poem. So he read out the following verses; which rendered into English are as follows:

"In nightly silence sat I once alone, deciphering some parchments old and deep; When suddenly, a bright unearthly light, Lit up my room. 'T was not the moon's pale ray, And then, a radiant figure did I see.

Immortal smiles were playing round his mouth, And in his rich and sable-coloured locks, He wore a crown of everlasting bay.

And with his finger pointing to the book, He then spoke thus; 'Be of good cheer, my friend, I am no spirit, come to rob thy peace, I merely came to wish thee all that's good.

All that which the dead letters here relate, I once have written with my own heart's blood: The siege of Troy, and then aeneas' flight The wrath of G.o.ds, and splendid Roma's birth.

Almost a thousand years have since gone by.

The singer died,--his nation died with him.

My grave is still; but seldom do I hear The distant shouts, at merry vintage time Or roar of breakers from the Cape Misene.

Yet lately was I call'd up from my rest, By some rough gale, which coming from the North Brought me the tidings, that in distant lands, aeneas' fate was being read again; And that a n.o.ble princess, proud and fair Had kindly deigned, to dress my epic song In the bold accents of her native tongue.

We once believed, the land beyond the Alps Was peopled by a rough, uncultured race;-- But now at home we long have been forgot, And in the stranger land we live again.

Therefore I come, to offer you my thanks; The greatest boon, a minstrel can obtain It is the praise from n.o.ble woman's lip.