CHAPTER IIITHE FLOTSAM AND JETSAM OF THE DEBATEABLE FORD
LIFE in Schloss Adlerstein was little less intolerable than Christina’simagination had depicted it. It was entirely devoid of all the graces ofchivalry, and its squalor and coarseness, magnified into absurdity byhaughtiness and violence, were almost inconceivable. Fortunately forher, the inmates of the castle resided almost wholly below stairs in thehall and kitchen, and in some dismal dens in the thickness of theirwalls. The height of the keep was intended for dignity and defence,rather than for habitation; and the upper chamber, with its greatstate-bed, where everybody of the house of Adlerstein was born and died,was not otherwise used, except when Ermentrude, unable to bear theoppressive confusion below stairs, had escaped thither for quietness’sake. No one else wished to inhabit it. The chamber above was filledwith the various appliances for the defence of the castle; and no onewould have ever gone up the turret stairs had not a warder been usuallykept on the roof to watch the roads leading to the Ford. Otherwise theAdlersteiners had all the savage instinct of herding together in as smalla space as possible.
Freiherrin Kunigunde hardly ever mounted to her daughter’s chamber. Allher affection was centred on the strong and manly son, of whom she wasproud, while the sickly pining girl, who would hardly find a mate of herown rank, and who had not even dowry enough for a convent, was such ashame and burthen to her as to be almost a distasteful object. Butperversely, as it seemed to her, the only daughter was the darling ofboth father and brother, who were ready to do anything to gratify thegirl’s sick fancies, and hailed with delight her pleasure in her newattendant. Old Ursel was at first rather envious and contemptuous of thechildish, fragile stranger, but her gentleness disarmed the old woman;and, when it was plain that the young lady’s sufferings were greatlylessened by tender care, dislike gave way to attachment, and there waslittle more murmuring at the menial services that were needed by the twomaidens, even when Ermentrude’s feeble fancies, or Christina’s views ofdainty propriety, rendered them more onerous than before. She was evenheard to rejoice that some Christian care and tenderness had at lastreached her poor neglected child.
It was well for Christina that she had such an ally. The poor childnever crept down stairs to the dinner or supper, to fetch food forErmentrude, or water for herself, without a trembling and shrinking ofheart and nerves. Her father’s authority guarded her from rude actions,but from rough tongues he neither could nor would guard her, norunderstand that what to some would have been a compliment seemed to heran alarming insult; and her chief safeguard lay in her own insignificanceand want of attraction, and still more in the modesty that concealed herterror at rude jests sufficiently to prevent frightening her frombecoming an entertainment.
Her father, whom she looked on as a cultivated person in comparison withthe rest of the world, did his best for her after his own views, andgradually brought her all the properties she had left at the Kohler’shut. Therewith she made a great difference in the aspect of the chamber,under the full sanction of the lords of the castle. Wolf, deer, andsheep skins abounded; and with these, assisted by her father and oldHatto, she tapestried the lower part of the bare grim walls, a greatbear’s hide covered the neighbourhood of the hearth, and cushions weremade of these skins, and stuffed from Ursel’s stores of feathers. Allthese embellishments were watched with great delight by Ermentrude, whohad never been made of so much importance, and was as much surprised asrelieved by such attentions. She was too young and too delicate toreject civilization, and she let Christina braid her hair, bathe her, andarrange her dress, with sensations of comfort that were almost likehealth. To train her into occupying herself was however, as Christinasoon found, in her present state, impossible. She could spin and sew alittle, but hated both; and her clumsy, listless fingers only soiled andwasted Christina’s needles, silk, and lute strings, and such damage wasnot so easily remedied as in the streets of Ulm. She was best providedfor when looking on at her attendant’s busy hands, and asking to be sungto, or to hear tales of the active, busy scenes of the city life—thedresses, fairs, festivals, and guild processions.
[Picture: “She was too young and too delicate to reject civilization, and she let Christina braid her hair, bathe her, and arrange her dress, with sensations of comfort that were almost like health.”—Page 37]
The gentle nursing and the new interests made her improve in health, sothat her father was delighted, and Christina began to hope for a returnhome. Sometimes the two girls would take the air, either, on still days,upon the battlements, where Ermentrude watched the Debateable Ford, andChristina gazed at the Danube and at Ulm; or they would find their way toa grassy nook on the mountain-side, where Christina gathered gentians andsaxifrage, trying to teach her young lady that they were worth lookingat, and sighing at the thought of Master Gottfried’s wreath when she metwith the asphodel seed-vessels. Once the quiet mule was brought intorequisition; and, with her brother walking by her, and Sorel and hisdaughter in attendance, Ermentrude rode towards the village ofAdlerstein. It was a collection of miserable huts, on a sheltered slopetowards the south, where there was earth enough to grow some wretched ryeand buckwheat, subject to severe toll from the lord of the soil. Perchedon a hollow rock above the slope was a rude little church, over a cavewhere a hermit had once lived and died in such odour of sanctity that,his day happening to coincide with that of St. John the Baptist, theBlessed Freidmund had acquired the credit of the lion’s share both of thesaint’s honours and of the old solstitial feast of Midsummer. This wakewas the one gaiety of the year, and attracted a fair which was the soleoccasion of coming honestly by anything from the outer world; nor had hiscell ever lacked a professional anchorite.
The Freiherr of his day had been a devout man, who had gone a pilgrimagewith Kaiser Friedrich of the Red Beard, and had brought home a bit ofstone from the council chamber of Nicæa, which he had presented to thelittle church that he had built over the cavern. He had named his sonFriedmund; and there were dim memories of his days as of a golden age,before the Wildschlossen had carried off the best of the property, andwhen all went well.
This was Christina’s first sight of a church since her arrival, exceptthat in the chapel, which was a dismal neglected vault, where a ruinousaltar and mouldering crucifix testified to its sacred purpose. The oldbaron had been excommunicated for twenty years, ever since he had harriedthe wains of the Bishop of Augsburg on his way to the Diet; and, thoughhis household and family were not under the same sentence, “Sunday didnacome abune the pass.” Christina’s entreaty obtained permission to enterthe little building, but she had knelt there only a few moments beforeher father came to hurry her away, and her supplications that he wouldsome day take her to mass there were whistled down the wind; and indeedthe hermit was a layman, and the church was only served on greatfestivals by a monk from the convent of St. Ruprecht, on the distant sideof the mountain, which was further supposed to be in the Schlangenwaldinterest. Her best chance lay in infusing the desire into Ermentrude,who by watching her prayers and asking a few questions had begun toacquire a few clearer ideas. And what Ermentrude wished had alwayshitherto been acquiesced in by the two lords.
The elder baron came little into Christina’s way. He meant to be kind toher, but she was dreadfully afraid of him, and, when he came to visit hisdaughter, shrank out of his notice as much as possible, shuddering mostof all at his attempts at civilities. His son she viewed as one of thethickwitted giants meant to be food for the heroism of good knights ofromance. Except that he was fairly conversant with the use of weapons,and had occasionally ridden beyond the shadow of his own mountain, hisrange was quite as limited as his sister’s; and he had an equal scorn forall beyond it. His unfailing kindness to his sister was however in hisfavour, and he always eagerly followed up any suggestion Christina madefor her pleasure.
Much of his time was spent on the child, whose chief nurse and playmatehe had been throughout her malady; and when she showed him the str
anger’sarrangements, or repeated to him, in a wondering, blundering way, withconstant appeals to her attendant, the new tales she had heard, he usedto listen with a pleased awkward amazement at his little Ermentrude’sastonishing cleverness, joined sometimes with real interest, which wasevinced by his inquiries of Christina. He certainly did not admire thelittle, slight, pale bower-maiden, but he seemed to look upon her likesome strange, almost uncanny, wise spirit out of some other sphere, andhis manner towards her had none of the offensive freedom apparent in eventhe old man’s patronage. It was, as Ermentrude once said, laughing,almost as if he feared that she might do something to him.
Christina had expected to see a ruffian, and had found a boor; but shewas to be convinced that the ruffian existed in him. Notice came up tothe castle of a convoy of waggons, and all was excitement. Men-at-armswere mustered, horses led down the Eagle’s Ladder, and an ambush preparedin the woods. The autumn rains were already swelling the floods, and thepassage of the ford would be difficult enough to afford the assailants aneasy prey.
The Freiherrinn Kunigunde herself, and all the women of the castle,hurried into Ermentrude’s room to enjoy the view from her window. Theyoung lady herself was full of eager expectation, but she knew enough ofher maiden to expect no sympathy from her, and loved her well enough notto bring down on her her mother’s attention; so Christina crept into herturret, unable to withdraw her eyes from the sight, trembling, weeping,praying, longing for power to give a warning signal. Could they be herown townsmen stopped on the way to dear Ulm?
She could see the waggons in mid-stream, the warriors on the bank; sheheard the triumphant outcries of the mother and daughter in the outerroom. She saw the overthrow, the struggle, the flight of a few scattereddark figures on the farther side, the drawing out of the goods on thenearer. Oh! were those leaping waves bearing down any good men’s corpsesto the Danube, slain, foully slain by her own father and this gang ofrobbers?
She was glad that Ermentrude went down with her mother to watch thereturn of the victors. She crouched on the floor, sobbing, shudderingwith grief and indignation, and telling her beads alike for murdered andmurderers, till, after the sounds of welcome and exultation, she heardSir Eberhard’s heavy tread, as he carried his sister up stairs.Ermentrude went up at once to Christina.
“After all there was little for us!” she said. “It was only a wain ofwine barrels; and now will the drunkards down stairs make good cheer.But Ebbo could only win for me this gold chain and medal which was roundthe old merchant’s neck.”
“Was he slain?” Christina asked with pale lips.
“I only know I did not kill him,” returned the baron; “I had him down andgot the prize, and that was enough for me. What the rest of the fellowsmay have done, I cannot say.”
“But he has brought thee something, Stina,” continued Ermentrude. “Showit to her, brother.”
“My father sends you this for your care of my sister,” said Eberhard,holding out a brooch that had doubtless fastened the band of theunfortunate wine-merchant’s bonnet.
“Thanks, sir; but, indeed, I may not take it,” said Christina, turningcrimson, and drawing back.
“So!” he exclaimed, in amaze; then bethinking himself,—“They are notownsfolk of yours, but Constance cowards.”
“Take it, take it, Stina, or you will anger my father,” added Ermentrude.
“No, lady, I thank the barons both, but it were sin in me,” saidChristina, with trembling voice.
“Look you,” said Eberhard; “we have the full right—’tis a seignorialright—to all the goods of every wayfarer that may be overthrown in ourriver—as I am a true knight!” he added earnestly.
“A true knight!” repeated Christina, pushed hard, and very indignant inall her terror. “The true knight’s part is to aid, not rob, the weak.”And the dark eyes flashed a vivid light.
“Christina!” exclaimed Ermentrude in the extremity of her amazement,“know you what you have said?—that Eberhard is no true knight!”
He meanwhile stood silent, utterly taken by surprise, and letting hislittle sister fight his battles.
“I cannot help it, Lady Ermentrude,” said Christina, with trembling lips,and eyes filling with tears. “You may drive me from the castle—I onlylong to be away from it; but I cannot stain my soul by saying that spoiland rapine are the deeds of a true knight.”
“My mother will beat you,” cried Ermentrude, passionately, ready to flyto the head of the stairs; but her brother laid his hand upon her.
“Tush, Trudchen; keep thy tongue still, child! What does it hurt me?”
And he turned on his heels and went down stairs. Christina crept intoher turret, weeping bitterly and with many a wild thought. Would theyvisit her offence on her father? Would they turn them both out together?If so, would not her father hurl her down the rocks rather than returnher to Ulm? Could she escape? Climb down the dizzy rocks, it might be,succour the merchant lying half dead on the meadows, protect and beprotected, be once more among God-fearing Christians? And as she felther helplessness, the selfish thoughts passed into a gush of tears forthe murdered man, lying suffering there, and for his possible wife andchildren watching for him. Presently Ermentrude peeped in.
“Stina, Stina, don’t cry; I will not tell my mother! Come out, andfinish my kerchief! Come out! No one shall beat you.”
“That is not what I wept for, lady,” said Christina. “I do not think youwould bring harm on me. But oh! I would I were at home! I grieve forthe bloodshed that I must see and may not hinder, and for that poormerchant.”
“Oh,” said Ermentrude, “you need not fear for him! I saw his own folkreturn and lift him up. But what is he to thee or to us?”
“I am a burgher maid, lady,” said Christina, recovering herself, andaware that it was of little use to bear testimony to such an auditor aspoor little Ermentrude against the deeds of her own father and brother,which had in reality the sort of sanction Sir Eberhard had mentioned,much akin to those coast rights that were the temptation of wreckers.
Still she could not but tremble at the thought of her speech, and wentdown to supper in greater trepidation than usual, dreading that sheshould be expected to thank the Freiherr for his gift. But, fortunately,manners were too rare at Adlerstein for any such omission to beremarkable, and the whole establishment was in a state of noisy triumphand merriment over the excellence of the French wine they had captured,so that she slipped into her seat unobserved.
Every available drinking-horn and cup was full. Ermentrude was eagerlypresented with draughts by both father and brother, and presently SirEberhard exclaimed, turning towards the shrinking Christina with a roughlaugh, “Maiden, I trow thou wilt not taste?”
Christina shook her head, and framed a negative with her lips.
“What’s this?” asked her father, close to whom she sat. “Is’t afast-day?”
There was a pause. Many were present who regarded a fast-day much morethan the lives or goods of their neighbours. Christina again shook herhead.
“No matter,” said good-natured Sir Eberhard, evidently wishing to avertany ill consequence from her. “’Tis only her loss.”
The mirth went on rough and loud, and Christina felt this the worst ofall the miserable meals she had partaken of in fear and trembling at thisplace of her captivity. Ermentrude, too, was soon in such a state ofexcitement, that not only was Christina’s womanhood bitterly ashamed andgrieved for her, but there was serious danger that she might at anymoment break out with some allusion to her maiden’s recusancy in herreply to Sir Eberhard.
Presently however Ermentrude laid down her head and began to cry—violentheadache had come on—and her brother took her in his arms to carry her upthe stairs; but his potations had begun before hers, and his step was farfrom steady; he stumbled more than once on the steps, shook andfrightened his sister, and set her down weeping petulantly. And thencame a more terrible moment; his awe of Christina had passed away; heswore that
she was a lovely maiden, with only too free a tongue, and thata kiss must be the seal of her pardon.
A house full of intoxicated men, no living creature who would care toprotect her, scarce even her father! But extremity of terror gave herstrength. She spoke resolutely—“Sir Eberhard, your sister is ill—you arein no state to be here. Go down at once, nor insult a free maiden.”
Probably the low-toned softness of the voice, so utterly different fromthe shrill wrangling notes of all the other women he had known, took himby surprise. He was still sober enough to be subdued, almost cowed, byresistance of a description unlike all he had ever seen; his alarm atChristina’s superior power returned in full force, he staggered to thestairs, Christina rushed after him, closed the heavy door with all herforce, fastened it inside, and would have sunk down to weep but forErmentrude’s peevish wail of distress.
Happily Ermentrude was still a child, and, neglected as she had been, shestill had had no one to make her precocious in matters of this kind. Shewas quite willing to take Christina’s view of the case, and not resentthe exclusion of her brother; indeed, she was unwell enough to dread theloudness of his voice and rudeness of his revelry.
So the door remained shut, and Christina’s resolve was taken that shewould so keep it while the wine lasted. And, indeed, Ermentrude had somuch fever all that night and the next day that no going down could bethought of. Nobody came near the maidens but Ursel, and she describedone continued orgie that made Christina shudder again with fear anddisgust. Those below revelled without interval, except for sleep; andthey took their sleep just where they happened to sink down, thenreturned again to the liquor. The old baroness repaired to the kitchenwhen the revelry went beyond even her bearing; but all the time the wineheld out, the swine in the court were, as Ursel averred, better companythan the men in the hall. Yet there might have been worse even thanthis; for old Ursel whispered that at the bottom of the stairs there wasa trap-door. Did the maiden know what it covered? It was an oubliette.There was once a Strasburg armourer who had refused ransom, and talked ofappealing to the Kaiser. He trod on that door and—Ursel pointeddownwards. “But since that time,” she said, “my young lord has neverbrought home a prisoner.”
No wonder that all this time Christina cowered at the discordant soundsbelow, trembled, and prayed while she waited on her poor young charge,who tossed and moaned in fever and suffering. She was still far fromrecovered when the materials of the debauch failed, and the householdbegan to return to its usual state. She was soon restlessly pining forher brother; and when her father came up to see her, received him withscant welcome, and entreaties for Ebbo. She knew she should be better ifshe might only sit on his knee, and lay her head on his shoulder. Theold Freiherr offered to accommodate her; but she rejected him petulantly,and still called for Ebbo, till he went down, promising that her brothershould come.
With a fluttering heart Christina awaited the noble whom she had perhapsinsulted, and whose advances had more certainly insulted her. Would hevisit her with his anger, or return to that more offensive familiarity?She longed to flee out of sight, when, after a long interval, his heavytread was heard; but she could not even take refuge in her turret, forErmentrude was leaning against her. Somehow, the step was less assuredthan usual; he absolutely knocked at the door; and, when he came in, heacknowledged her by a slight inclination of the head. If she only hadknown it, this was the first time that head had ever been bent to anybeing, human or Divine; but all she did perceive was that Sir Eberhardwas in neither of the moods she dreaded, only desperately shy andsheepish, and extremely ashamed, not indeed of his excess, which wouldhave been, even to a much tamer German baron, only a happy accident, butof what had passed between himself and her.
He was much grieved to perceive how much ground Ermentrude had lost, andgave himself up to fondling and comforting her; and in a few days more,in their common cares for the sister, Christina lost her newly-acquiredhorror of the brother, and could not but be grateful for his forbearance;while she was almost entertained by the increased awe of herself shown bythis huge robber baron.