Rolf fetched one; and the pilgrim, half-raising himself on the couch,sang the following words:
"When death is coming near, When thy heart shrinks in fear And thy limbs fail, Then raise thy hands and pray To Him who smooths thy way Through the dark vale.
Seest thou the eastern dawn, Hearst thou in the red morn The angel's song? Oh, lift thy drooping head, Thou who in gloom and dread Hast lain so long.
Death comes to set thee free; Oh, meet him cheerily As thy true friend, And all thy fears shall cease, And in eternal peace Thy penance end."
"Amen," said Sintram and Rolf, folding their hands; and whilst the lastchords of the lute still resounded, the chaplain and the castellan cameslowly and gently into the room. "I bring a precious Christmas gift,"said the priest. "After many sad years, hope of reconciliation and peaceof conscience are returning to a noble, disturbed mind. This concernsthee, beloved pilgrim; and do thou, my Sintram, with a joyful trust inGod, take encouragement and example from it."
"More than twenty years ago," began the castellan, at a sign from thechaplain--"more than twenty years ago I was a bold shepherd, drivingmy flock up the mountains. A young knight followed me, whom they calledWeigand the Slender. He wanted to buy of me my favourite little lamb forhis fair bride, and offered me much red gold for it. I sturdily refused.Over-bold youth boiled up in us both. A stroke of his sword hurled mesenseless down the precipice.
"Not killed?" asked the pilgrim in a scarce audible voice.
"I am no ghost," replied the castellan, somewhat morosely; and then,after an earnest look from the priest, he continued, more humbly: "Irecovered slowly and in solitude, with the help of remedies which wereeasily found by me, a shepherd, in our productive valleys. When I cameback into the world, no man knew me, with my scarred face, and my nowbald head. I heard a report going through the country, that on accountof this deed of his, Sir Weigand the Slender had been rejected by hisfair betrothed Verena, and how he had pined away, and she had wishedto retire into a convent, but her father had persuaded her to marry thegreat knight Biorn. Then there came a fearful thirst for vengeanceinto my heart, and I disowned my name, and my kindred, and my home, andentered the service of the mighty Biorn, as a strange wild man, in orderthat Weigand the Slender should always remain a murderer, and that Imight feed on his anguish. So have I fed upon it for all these longyears; I have fed frightfully upon his self-imposed banishment, uponhis cheerless return home, upon his madness. But to-day--" and hot tearsgushed from his eyes--"but to-day God has broken the hardness of myheart; and, dear Sir Weigand, look upon yourself no more as a murderer,and say that you will forgive me, and pray for him who has done you sofearful an injury, and--"
Sobs choked his words. He fell at the feet of the pilgrim, who withtears of joy pressed him to his heart, in token of forgiveness.
CHAPTER 21
The joy of this hour passed from its first overpowering brightness tothe calm, thoughtful aspect of daily life; and Weigand, now restoredto health, laid aside the mantle with dead men's bones, saying: "I hadchosen for my penance to carry these fearful remains about with me, withthe thought that some of them might have belonged to him whom I havemurdered. Therefore I sought for them round about, in the deep beds ofthe mountain-torrents, and in the high nests of the eagles and vultures.And while I was searching, I sometimes--could it have been only anillusion?--seemed to meet a being who was very like myself, but far, farmore powerful, and yet still paler and more haggard."
An imploring look from Sintram stopped the flow of his words. With agentle smile, Weigand bowed towards him, and said: "You know now all thedeep, unutterably deep, sorrow which preyed upon me. My fear of you, andmy yearning love for you, are no longer an enigma to your kind heart.For, dear youth, though you may be like your fearful father, you havealso the kind, gentle heart of your mother; and its reflection brightensyour pallid, stern features, like the glow of a morning sky, whichlights up ice-covered mountains and snowy valleys with the softradiance of joy. But, alas! how long you have lived alone amidst yourfellow-creatures! and how long since you have seen your mother, mydearly-loved Sintram!"
"I feel, too, as though a spring were gushing up in the barrenwilderness," replied the youth; "and I should perchance be altogetherrestored, could I but keep you long with me, and weep with you, dearlord. But I have that within me which says that you will very soon betaken from me."
"I believe, indeed," said the pilgrim, "that my late song was verynearly my last, and that it contained a prediction full soon to beaccomplished in me. But, as the soul of man is always like the thirstyground, the more blessings God has bestowed on us, the more earnestlydo we look out for new ones; so would I crave for one more before, as Ihope, my blessed end. Yet, indeed, it cannot be granted me," added he,with a faltering voice; "for I feel myself too utterly unworthy of sohigh a gift."
"But it will be granted!" said the chaplain, joyfully. "'He thathumbleth himself shall be exalted;' and I fear not to take onepurified from murder to receive a farewell from the holy and forgivingcountenance of Verena."
The pilgrim stretched both his hands up towards heaven and an unspokenthanksgiving poured from his beaming eyes, and brightened the smile thatplayed on his lips.
Sintram looked sorrowfully on the ground, and sighed gently to himself:"Alas! who would dare accompany?"
"My poor, good Sintram," said the chaplain, in a tone of the softestkindness, "I understand thee well; but the time is not yet come. Thepowers of evil will again raise up their wrathful heads within thee,and Verena must check both her own and thy longing desires, until all ispure in thy spirit as in hers. Comfort thyself with the thought thatGod looks mercifully upon thee, and that the joy so earnestly sought forwill come--if not here, most assuredly beyond the grave."
But the pilgrim, as though awaking out of a trance, rose mightily fromhis seat, and said: "Do you please to come forth with me, reverendchaplain? Before the sun appears in the heavens, we could reach theconvent-gates, and I should not be far from heaven."
In vain did the chaplain and Rolf remind him of his weakness: he smiled,and said that there could be no words about it; and he girded himself,and tuned the lute which he had asked leave to take with him. Hisdecided manner overcame all opposition, almost without words; and thechaplain had already prepared himself for the journey, when the pilgrimlooked with much emotion at Sintram, who, oppressed with a strangeweariness, had sunk, half-asleep, on a couch, and said: "Wait a moment.I know that he wants me to give him a soft lullaby." The pleased smileof the youth seemed to say, Yes; and the pilgrim, touching the stringswith a light hand, sang these words:
"Sleep peacefully, dear boy; Thy mother sends the song That whispers round thy couch, To lull thee all night long. In silence and afar For thee she ever prays, And longs once more in fondness Upon thy face to gaze.
And when thy waking cometh, Then in thy every deed, In all that may betide thee, Unto her words give heed. Oh, listen for her voice, If it be yea or nay; And though temptation meet thee, Thou shalt not miss the way.
If thou canst listen rightly, And nobly onward go, Then pure and gentle breezes Around thy cheek shall blow. Then on thy peaceful journey Her blessing thou shalt feel, And though from thee divided, Her presence o'er thee steal.
O safest,
sweetest comfort! O blest and living light! That, strong in Heaven's power, All terrors put to flight! Rest quietly, sweet child, And may the gentle numbers Thy mother sends to thee Waft peace unto thy slumbers."
Sintram fell into a deep sleep, smiling, and breathing softly. Rolf andthe castellan remained by his bed, whilst the two travellers pursuedtheir way in the quiet starlight.
CHAPTER 22
The dawn had almost appeared, when Rolf, who had been asleep, wasawakened by low singing; and as he looked round, he perceived, withsurprise, that the sounds came from the lips of the castellan, who said,as if in explanation, "So does Sir Weigand sing at the convent-gates,and they are kindly opened to him." Upon which, old Rolf fell asleepagain, uncertain whether what had passed had been a dream or a reality.After a while the bright sunshine awoke him again; and when he rose up,he saw the countenance of the castellan wonderfully illuminated by thered morning rays; and altogether those features, once so fearful, wereshining with a soft, nay almost child-like mildness. The mysterious manseemed to be the while listening to the motionless air, as if he werehearing a most pleasant discourse or lofty music; and as Rolf was aboutto speak, he made him a sign of entreaty to remain quiet, and continuedin his eager listening attitude.
At length he sank slowly and contentedly back in his seat, whispering,"God be praised! She has granted his last prayer; he will be laid in theburial-ground of the convent, and now he has forgiven me in the depthsof his heart. I can assure you that he finds a peaceful end."
Rolf did not dare ask a question, or awake his lord; he felt as if onealready departed had spoken to him.
The castellan long remained still, always smiling brightly. At lasthe raised himself a little, again listened, and said, "It is over. Thesound of the bells is very sweet. We have overcome. Oh, how soft andeasy does the good God make it to us!" And so it came to pass. Hestretched himself back as if weary, and his soul was freed from hiscare-worn body.
Rolf now gently awoke his young knight, and pointed to the smiling dead.And Sintram smiled too; he and his good esquire fell on their knees, andprayed to God for the departed spirit. Then they rose up, and bore thecold body to the vaulted hall, and watched by it with holy candles untilthe return of the chaplain. That the pilgrim would not come back again,they very well knew.
Accordingly towards mid-day the chaplain returned alone. He couldscarcely do more than confirm what was already known to them. He onlyadded a comforting and hopeful greeting from Sintram's mother to herson, and told that the blissful Weigand had fallen asleep like a tiredchild, whilst Verena, with calm tenderness, held a crucifix before him.
"And in eternal peace our penance end!"
sang Sintram, gently to himself: and they prepared a last resting placefor the now peaceful castellan, and laid him therein with all the duesolemn rites.
The chaplain was obliged soon afterwards to depart; but bidding Sintramfarewell, he again said kindly to him, "Thy dear mother assuredly knowshow gentle and calm and good thou art now!"
CHAPTER 23
In the castle of Sir Biorn of the Fiery Eyes, Christmas-eve had notpassed so brightly and happily; but yet, there too all had gone visiblyaccording to God's will.
Folko, at the entreaty of the lord of the castle, had allowed Gabrielleto support him into the hall; and the three now sat at the round stonetable, whereon a sumptuous meal was laid. On either side there werelong tables, at which sat the retainers of both knights in full armour,according to the custom of the North. Torches and lamps lighted thelofty hall with an almost dazzling brightness.
Midnight had now begun its solemn reign, and Gabrielle softly remindedher wounded knight to withdraw. Biorn heard her, and said: "You areright, fair lady; our knight needs rest. Only let us first keep up onemore old honourable custom."
And at his sign four attendants brought in with pomp a great boar'shead, which looked as if cut out of solid gold, and placed it in themiddle of the stone table. Biorn's retainers rose with reverence, andtook off their helmets; Biorn himself did the same.
"What means this?" asked Folko very gravely.
"What thy forefathers and mine have done on every Yule feast," answeredBiorn. "We are going to make vows on the boar's head, and then pass thegoblet round to their fulfilment."
"We no longer keep what our ancestors called the Yule feast," saidFolko; "we are good Christians, and we keep holy Christmas-tide."
"To do the one, and not to leave the other undone," answered Biorn. "Ihold my ancestors too dear to forget their knightly customs. Those whothink otherwise may act according to their wisdom, but that shall nothinder me. I swear by the golden boar's head--" And he stretched out hishand, to lay it solemnly upon it.
But Folko called out, "In the name of our holy Saviour, forbear. Where Iam, and still have breath and will, none shall celebrate undisturbed therites of the wild heathens."
Biorn of the Fiery Eyes glared angrily at him. The men of the two baronsseparated from each other, with a hollow sound of rattling armour, andranged themselves in two bodies on either side of the hall, each behindits leader. Already here and there helmets were fastened and visorsclosed.
"Bethink thee yet what thou art doing," said Biorn. "I was about to vowan eternal union with the house of Montfaucon, nay, even to bind myselfto do it grateful homage; but if thou disturb me in the customs whichhave come to me from my forefathers, look to thy safety and the safetyof all that is dear to thee. My wrath no longer knows any bounds."
Folko made a sign to the pale Gabrielle to retire behind his followers,saying to her, "Be of good cheer, my noble wife, weaker Christians havebraved, for the sake of God and of His holy Church, greater dangers thannow seem to threaten us. Believe me, the Lord of Montfaucon is not soeasily ensnared."
Gabrielle obeyed, something comforted by Folko's fearless smile, butthis smile inflamed yet more the fury of Biorn. He again stretched outhis hand towards the boar's head, as if about to make some dreadful vow,when Folko snatched a gauntlet of Biorn's off the table, with which he,with his unwounded left arm, struck so powerful a blow on the gilt idol,that it fell crashing to the ground, shivered to pieces. Biorn and hisfollowers stood as if turned to stone. But soon swords were graspedby armed hands, shields were taken down from the walls, and an angry,threatening murmur sounded through the hall.
At a sign from Folko, a battle-axe was brought him by one of hisfaithful retainers; he swung it high in air with his powerful left hand,and stood looking like an avenging angel as he spoke these words throughthe tumult with awful calmness: "What seek ye, O deluded Northman? Whatwouldst thou, sinful lord? Ye are indeed become heathens; and I hopeto show you, by my readiness for battle, that it is not in my right armalone that God has put strength for victory. But if ye can yet hear,listen to my words. Biorn, on this same accursed, and now, by God'shelp, shivered boar's head, thou didst lay thy hand when thou didstswear to sacrifice any inhabitants of the German towns that should fallinto thy power. And Gotthard Lenz came, and Rudlieb came, driven onthese shores by the storm. What didst thou then do, O savage Biorn? Whatdid ye do at his bidding, ye who were keeping the Yule feast with him?Try your fortune on me. The Lord will be with me, as He was withthose holy men. To arms, and--" (he turned to his warriors) "let ourbattle-cry be Gotthard and Rudlieb!"
Then Biorn let drop his drawn sword, then his followers paused, and noneamong the Norwegians dared lift his eyes from the ground. By degrees,they one by one began to disappear from the hall; and at last Biornstood quite alone opposite to the baron and his followers. He seemedhardly aware that he had been deserted, but he fell on his knees,stretched out his shining sword, pointed to the broken boar's head, andsaid, "Do with me as you have done with that; I deserve no better. I askbut one favour, only one; do not disgrace me, noble baron, by seekingshelter in another castle of Norway."
"I fear you not," answered Folko, after some tho
ught; "and, as far asmay be, I freely forgive you." Then he drew the sign of the cross overthe wild form of Biorn, and left the hall with Gabrielle. The retainersof the house of Montfaucon followed him proudly and silently.
The hard spirit of the fierce lord of the castle was now quitebroken, and he watched with increased humility every look of Folko andGabrielle. But they withdrew more and more into the happy solitude oftheir own apartments, where they enjoyed, in the midst of the sharpwinter, a bright spring-tide of happiness. The wounded conditionof Folko did not hinder the evening delights of songs and music andpoetry--but rather a new charm was added to them when the tall, handsomeknight leant on the arm of his delicate lady, and they thus, changing asit were their deportment and duties, walked slowly through the torch-lithalls, scattering their kindly greetings like flowers among the crowdsof men and women.
All this time little or nothing was heard of poor Sintram. The last wildoutbreak of his father had increased the terror with which Gabrielleremembered the self-accusations of the youth; and the more resolutelyFolko kept silence, the more did she bode some dreadful mystery. Indeed,a secret shudder came over the knight when he thought on the pale,dark-haired youth. Sintram's repentance had bordered on settled despair;no one knew even what he was doing in the fortress of evil report on theRocks of the Moon. Strange rumours were brought by the retainers whohad fled from it, that the evil spirit had obtained complete power overSintram, that no man could stay with him, and that the fidelity of thedark mysterious castellan had cost him his life.