Ekkehard Volume I Part 23

Hail to thy mistress, who in union rare, Has strength and wisdom, in herself enshrined, And like Minerva in the ranks of G.o.ds, In steel-clad armour sitteth on the throne, Fair patron yet of all the peaceful arts.

Yet many years may she the sceptre wield, Surrounded by a strong and loving race.

And when you listen to the foreign strains, Like armour rattling, and the clash of steel,-- Then think of me, it is Italia's voice, 'Tis Virgil greets the rock of Hohentwiel.'

Thus spoke he, waved his hand and disappear'd.

But I wrote down, still on that very night What he had said; and to my mistress now I shyly venture to present these leaves, A humble gift, from faithful Ekkehard."

A short pause ensued, after he had finished the reading of his poem.

Then the d.u.c.h.ess approached him with outstretched hand, "Ekkehard I thank you." They were the same words, which she had once said to him in the cloister courtyard at St. Gall; but the tones were still milder than at that time; her eyes sparkled and her lips wore a wondrous smile, like that of sweet-eyed fairies, which is said to be followed by a shower of delicious roses.

Then turning to Praxedis she continued, "and thee I ought to condemn to ask his pardon on thy very knees, for having but lately spoken with so little veneration of learned and ecclesiastical men." But the Greek maiden's eyes sparkled archly, well knowing that without her help and advice, the shy monk would scarcely have been able to attain this success.

"In future I will give him all the reverence that's due," said she. "I will even weave him a garland if you desire it."

After Ekkehard had gone up to his little chamber, the two women still sat up together, and the Greek maid fetched a basin filled with water; some pieces of lead and a metal spoon. "The lead-melting of last year, has prophesied well," said she. "We could then, not quite understand, what the strange shape was, which the lead a.s.sumed in the water;--but now I am almost sure that it resembled a monk's cowl; and that, our castle can now boast off."

The d.u.c.h.ess had become thoughtful. She listened to hear whether Ekkehard might not be returning.

"It is nothing but an idle amus.e.m.e.nt," said she.

"If it does not please my mistress," said the Greek, "then she might order our teacher to entertain us with something better. His Virgil, is no doubt a far better oracle, than our lead; when opened on a consecrated night, with prayers and a blessing. I wonder now, what part of his epic would foretell to us, the events of the coming year."

"Be silent," said the d.u.c.h.ess. "He spoke but lately so severely on witchcraft; he would laugh at us ..."

"Then we shall have to content ourselves with the old way," returned Praxedis; holding the spoon with the lead in it over the flame of the lamp. The lead melted and trembled; and muttering a few unintelligible words, she poured it into the water; the liquid metal making a hissing sound.

Dame Hadwig, with seeming indifference, cast a look at it, when Praxedis held the basin up to the light. Instead of dividing into fantastic shapes, the lead had formed a long pointed drop. It glimmered faintly in Dame Hadwig's hand.

"That is another riddle, for time to solve," laughed Praxedis. "The future, this time closely resembles a pine-cone."

"Or a tear," said the d.u.c.h.ess seriously, leaning her head on her right hand.

A loud noise from the ground-floor, interrupted the further investigation of the omen. Giggling and screams of the maid-servants, rough sounds of male voices, interspersed with the shrill tones of a lute, were heard in dire confusion, coming up the pa.s.sage. Respectfully but beseechingly, the flying troop of the maids stopped at the threshold. The tall Friderun could scarcely refrain from scolding; and little Hadumoth was crying audibly. A groping, fumbling step was heard behind them, and presently there appeared an uncouth figure, wrapt in a bearskin; with a painted mask, in the form of a bear's snout; snarling and growling like a hungry bruin, seeking for its prey. Now and then, this apparition drew some inharmonious sounds from a lute, which was hanging over his s.h.a.ggy shoulders, suspended on a red ribbon; but as soon as the door of the hall was thrown open, and the rustling dress of the d.u.c.h.ess was heard approaching, the nightly phantom turned round, and slowly tumbled back into the echoing pa.s.sage.

The old housekeeper then began; telling their mistress, how they had sat merrily together, rejoicing over their presents, when the monster had come in upon them, and had first executed a dance, to his own lute's playing, but how he had afterwards blown out the candles, threatening the frightened maidens with kisses and embraces; finally becoming so wild and obstreperous, that they had all been obliged to take flight.

Judging from the hoa.r.s.e laughter of the bear, there was strong reason for suspecting Master Spazzo's being hidden under the s.h.a.ggy fur; who after embibing a considerable quant.i.ty of wine, had concluded his Christmas frolics in that way.

Dame Hadwig appeased her exasperated servants, and bade them go to bed.

From the yard however was soon heard another cry of surprise. There they all stood in a group; steadfastly looking up at the tower; for the terrible bear had climbed up, and was now promenading on the top of it, lifting his s.h.a.ggy head up to the stars, as if he wanted to send a greeting to his namesake in the firmament;--the great bear.

The dark figure stood out in clear outlines against the pale starry sky, and his growls sounded weirdly through the silent night; but no mortal was ever told, what the luminous stars revealed to the wine-clouded brains of Master Spazzo the chamberlain.

At the same midnight hour, Ekkehard knelt before the altar of the castle chapel, softly chaunting the Christmas-matins, as the church rules prescribed.

CHAPTER XI.

The old Man of the Heidenhohle.

The remainder of the winter pa.s.sed by monotonously; and in consequence swiftly enough. They prayed and worked; read Virgil and studied the grammar, every day. Dame Hadwig had quite given up asking dangerous questions. During the Carnival, the neighbouring n.o.bility came to pay their respects to the d.u.c.h.ess. Those of Nellenburg and of Veringen; the old Count of Argengau with his daughters, the Guelphs from over the lake, and many others; and in those days there was much feasting, accompanied by more drinking. After that, it became lonely again on the top of the Hohentwiel.

March had come, and heavy gales blew over the land. On the first starlight night, a comet was seen in the sky; and the stork which lived comfortably on the castle-gable, had flown away again, a week after its return. At all these things, people shook their heads. Further, a shepherd, driving his flock past the hill, told how he had met the army-worm,[10] which was a sure sign of coming war.

A strange, uncomfortable feeling took possession of all minds. The approach of an earthquake is often felt at a considerable distance; here, by the stopping of a spring; there, by the anxious flying about of birds; and in the same way the danger of war makes itself felt beforehand.

Master Spazzo who had bravely sat behind the wine-jug in February, now walked about with a downcast expression. "You are to do me a favour,"

said he one day to Ekkehard. "I have seen a dead fish in my dream, floating on its back. I wish to make my last will. The world has become old and is left standing on its last leg; and that also will soon give way. Good-bye then Firnewine! Besides we are not very far off from the Millenium; and have lived merrily enough. Perhaps the last years count double. At any rate, mankind cannot go on much longer in that way.

Erudition has gone so far, that in this one castle of Hohentwiel, more than half a dozen books lie heaped up; and when a fellow gets a good thras.h.i.+ng, he goes up to court and makes his complaint, instead of burning down his enemy's house, over his head. With such a state of affairs, the world must naturally soon come to an end."

"Who is to be your heir, if all the world is to perish," was Ekkehard's reply.

A man of Augsburg, coming to the Reichenau, also brought evil tidings.

Bishop Ulrich had promised a precious relic to the monastery--the right arm of the holy Theopontus, richly set in silver and precious stones.

He now sent word that as the country was unsafe at present, he could not risk sending it.

The Abbot ordered the man to go to the Hohentwiel; there to inform the d.u.c.h.ess of the state of things.

"What is the good news?" asked she, on his presenting himself.

"There's not much good in them. I would rather take away better ones from here. The Suabian arrier-ban is up in arms; horses and riders, as many as have a sword and s.h.i.+eld hanging on their walls, are ready. They are again on the road, between the Danube and the Rhine."

"Who?"

"The old enemies from yonder. The small fellows with the deep-set eyes and blunt noses. A good deal of our meat will again be ridden tender under the saddle this year."

He drew out of his pocket a strangely shaped small horse-shoe, with a high heel to it. "Do you know that?--A little shoe, and a little steed, a crooked sabre, and arrows fleet;--as quick as lightning, and never at rest; oh Lord, deliver us from this pest!"

"The Huns?" exclaimed the d.u.c.h.ess, in startled tones.

"If you prefer to call them Hungarians, or Hungry-ones,--'tis the same to me," said the messenger. "Bishop Pilgrim sent the tidings from Pa.s.sau to Freising; whence it reached us. They have already swum over the Danube, and will be falling like locusts into the German lands; and as quick as winged Devils. 'You may sooner catch the wind on the plain, or the bird in the air,' is an old saying with us. May the plague take their horses!--I for myself, only fear for my sister's child at Pa.s.sau; the fair little Bertha." ...

"It is impossible!" said Dame Hadwig. "Can they have forgotten already, what answer the messengers of the Exchequer, returned them: 'we have iron and swords and five fingers to our hands?' In the battle on the Inn, their heads were made acquainted with the truth of these words."

"Just for that very reason," said the man. "He who has been beaten once, likes to come back and beat the enemy in his turn. The messengers of the Exchequer, in reward for their bravery, have had their heads cut off;--so who will like taking their places in the foremost ranks?"

"We likewise know the path, which has been trodden by our ancestors, going to meet the enemy," proudly returned the d.u.c.h.ess.

She dismissed the man from Augsburg with a present. Then she sent for Ekkehard.

"Virgil will have to rest a while," said she, telling him of the danger that was threatening from the Huns. This state of things was by no means pleasant. The n.o.bles had forgotten, in their many personal feuds, how to act and stand up together; whilst the Emperor, of Saxon origin and not over fond of the Suabians, was fighting in Italy, far away from the German frontier. So the pa.s.sage to the Bodensee was open to the invaders; whose mere name caused a terror wherever it was p.r.o.nounced.

For years their tribes swarmed like will-o'-the-wisps, through the unsettled realm, which Charlemagne had left in the hands of unqualified successors. From the sh.o.r.es of the North-Sea, where the ruins of Bremen spoke of their invasion, down to the southern point of Calabria, where the natives had to pay a ransom for each head,--fire and plunder marked their way.

"If they are not ghosts which the pious Bishop Ulrich has seen," said the d.u.c.h.ess, "they are certain to come to us also; so what is to be done? To meet them in open battle?--Even bravery is folly, when the enemy is too numerous. To obtain peace, by paying tribute and ransom, thus driving them over to our neighbours' territory?--Others have done that before, but we have other ideas of honour and dishonour. Are we to barricade ourselves on the Hohentwiel, and leave the land at their mercy, when we have promised our protection to our subjects?--never!

What do you advise?"