CHAPTER XVII.

Of the Wild Hunter Hakelnberg and his courtesy.

Now, after they had come down a steep declivity, all of a sudden they found themselves on a level glade, where four well-beaten roads met together. “There, my friends,” said Sir Archimbald, “you perceive that we have now come again into an inhabited country. It is but a short mile from this place to a good house of entertainment, and there we shall remain for one whole day, that the wounded man may have rest; for it will require yet another day’s journey ere we can reach my fortress of Waldeck.” As they drew near, however, to the spot where the four roads crossed, lo! their horses started and reared, and by the uncertain moonshine, (for the white mists had settled densely on the lowland forests,) they perceived a troop of men and horses, that seemed always increased in number by single riders that came forward out of the woods. Moreover, they heard the voices of many dogs, that howled sometimes with impatience, and sometimes in terror. “These must be huntsmen,” observed Sir Archimbald; “we must ask them the usual questions however,--‘Whence and whither?’ There are methinks too many of them collected here to admit of our riding through without some precaution.” So he commanded that the biers should halt in the spot whereon they now stood, and, assembling his squires about him, placed himself with Sir Arinbiorn in the van, then sent out a horseman with a courteous message of inquiry to the strangers.

Hereupon, behold, the squire rode and rode; but it seemed as if the glade always spread out longer and longer before him. Through the mist and the moonlight they always saw him trotting on; but he never appeared to come up with the parties with whom he had been sent to speak. Still they saw the same hunting-squadron before them, and still heard the howling of their dogs; even, moreover, a confused murmuring of voices.

All of a sudden a gigantic figure of a man, mounted on a horse proportionably monstrous with himself, came up, and halted between Sir Archimbald and the sea-monarch. “Your squire cannot ride,” said he in a strange hollow voice, that yet sounded amid the night-wind almost like a scornful laugh:--“he would let the morning dawn on us, before he had moved ten paces. Therefore I have rather come to you, in order that I may thank you heartily for having banished Gerda and her mischievous spirits from this forest. Take then, as a token of my gratitude, the game that I shall send you to-morrow--the first prize that I shall have won since these domains have again become mine. Hakelnberg from thenceforward is your steady friend. Hark, hark! Hilloick, hilloick, forward, forward!” With these words, with which the very vault of heaven seemed to ring and echo, he flew straightway up into the air, and it seemed to the knights as if they beheld above whole herds of game, of which he thus went in pursuit. The band that halted on the plain all rose at the same moment, like a cloud of dust after their chief; the dogs bayed and howled, and the huntsmen screamed and shouted; ere long, however, their voices sounded from the unmeasured fields of space so far remote, that the noise was no longer like articulate voices, but resembled rather the growling of a distant thunder-storm. Meanwhile all the deer and other game in the forest were so terrified, that oftentimes they started from the thickets, and came rushing past, close to Sir Archimbald and his friends, who were all so much astonished at this adventure, that they scarcely dared to speak, but went silently along the narrow road that led again through the woods, with the same fearful noises still thundering over their heads.

The morning had begun to dawn; and just as the last notes of the wild hunters had died away, the travellers entered the village of which the count had spoken, and where they were to find rest and shelter for the wounded knight.

In the auberge, all the inhabitants were already awake, and Sir Archimbald inquired of their host, who was anxiously running to and fro to provide for the comfort of his guests, whether he had been terrified by the wild hunters, since he had thus risen so early. “Sir,” said the innkeeper, setting on the table a morning draught for his guests, “Hakelnberg’s career through the clouds has no doubt called us earlier than usual from our beds; but as to terror, that is indeed a different question. I cannot say that we were afraid; but, on the contrary, we returned thanks to God, both with pious hymns and with prayer, that the old Hakelnberg, who has been so long known both to us and to our ancestors, has now come with his dogs and horses and echoing horns once more into the Hartz forest. Sir Knight, you may have already felt far better than I can describe, that whatever has grown up with us, and been known from infancy, even though it may be somewhat that in itself is unwelcome and frightful, yet by the force of custom becomes so dear to the heart, that it is indispensable, becoming so intwined with our very life, that when it is removed, it is like snapping one of the ties by which we cling to this world. Besides, on what occasion has the good old Hakelnberg ever done injury to any one over the wide earth? All that can be said is, that foolish people now and then have been terrified when he made his appearance among the clouds; but the hateful enchantress, with her two warlike knights,--when they galloped about on their gigantic fiery horses, what evils would they not have inflicted? and what threats did they not hold out over our heads? At such times our old friend Hakelnberg was forced to keep silence, and to dwell lonely and melancholy in his castle of the clouds; but, Heaven be praised, he has again begun to ride through the forest, and the enchantress Freia, with all her squadrons of hobgoblins, is put to flight.” “They are put to flight, doubtless,” answered Sir Archimbald; “on that score I can pledge my honour and word as a Christian knight.” Hereupon the innkeeper in his great joy grasped the hand which the knight kindly proffered him, and cried aloud, “Long live Count Waldeck,” and “Long live old Hakelnberg!”

At that moment there arose a noise in the street, which attracted the notice both of the host and his guests. All ran to the window, and behold there came a noble stag, who had rushed from the neighbouring forest; he ran wildly as if he had been pursued by dogs and horsemen, though no one could perceive by whom he should have been thus alarmed. The shepherds and bauers indeed were now on the alert, and tried to confine him within a circle, but he broke violently through them, and making directly towards the inn, he attempted to leap over a hedge, by which the garden was bounded, but in the attempt struck himself a mortal wound against the lance of Sir Archimbald, which the knight had placed there, and soon after died.

“Who knows,” said Sir Arinbiorn, “but this is the game that Hakelnberg promised to send us?” The count also was of the same opinion, and, according to the use and wont of huntsmen, they immediately divided the noble prey with their knives, and at midday refreshed themselves, together with the host and all his household, making merry over their banquet, and many times drinking to the health of the good Hakelnberg. Sir Otto also partook of their entertainment, and it seemed that he had been thereby strengthened by magic art; by the time that evening had again drawn near, one could perceive by his gait, voice, and demeanour, that his wounds were now of little importance, and it was more needful to think of repairing his broken corslet, than to be concerned any longer for the knight’s welfare.

The last red gleams of the sun were now shining into their apartment, when Sir Otto started up from a couch whereon he had just before thrown himself, and coming with a grave solemn demeanour to his friends, he said,--“There is left for us one sacred duty to be fulfilled, and, methinks, so long as the body of our beloved friend is suffered to remain visible on this unquiet earth, we dare not sleep;--methinks, too, this village, with its lime-trees and clear fountains, looks like a pleasant resting-place for our departed comrade. One question remains to be answered,--whether, in this remote hamlet, we can find consecrated ground?”--Hereupon their host offered to shew them the way to a small chapel, around which many pious Christians had already been interred, and where the earth had been duly blessed by the good monks;--so they directly set out on their way, having covered the bier of Sir Heerdegen with an embroidered mantle, and his arms laid cross-ways thereon. As they began at length to ascend the hill, on which stood the chapel, it was a pleasure to see the never-dying gleams of the lamp over the altar, shining through the green shades of the trees, amid the now settled gloom of evening; and Sir Otto, who could not refrain from joining in their procession, now wept unobserved and silently. At the chapel they found, as they had been informed, an enclosed burial-ground; and one might have said too, that there was here a higher and more solemn chapel than could have been built by mortal hands; inasmuch as a lofty grove of elm and beech rose, as it were into the sky, with their branches intwined together, and forming that natural archway which our noblest cathedrals but imitate. Through the roof of this lofty aisle, as the wind played among the leaves, they caught at intervals the light of the stars, which had now begun to shine forth in heaven. Under this light the three champions joined in digging Sir Heerdegen of Lichtenried’s grave;--they wrapt his mantle round him, laid him deep in the earth, and made his outward monument of green turf. Thereafter they remained for a space kneeling in silent prayer,--Sir Otto at the head of his lamented friend, and his comrades one on each side. At length they rose, and, lost in silent melancholy thoughts, went back to the village.

On the following morning they all rose early; and Sir Otto was so far recovered, that he could mount a horse, which was now provided for him, and pursue his journey even as if he had never been wounded. In the evening, when it was already late, and the sky gloomy, Sir Archimbald said that they were not far from his castle of Waldeck, and that ere long they would all be seated at the banquet-table, in his ancestral hall, with the Lady Hildiridur. Suddenly, as he had just spoken these words, there started out from the rustling thickets a strange and unlooked-for figure, that reared itself like a giant before them:--they knew not what this could be; but the figure came straight forward to meet them. As they debated thereon, Sir Otto all at once recognised, by the dim light, that this was no other than his dearly-beloved brown horse, which had advanced, rearing himself on his hinder-legs, so that they had mistaken him for a giant; but, as soon as he drew near to his master, and Sir Otto had saluted him with the well known words,--“Ruhig du Bursch!”--the faithful steed immediately gave over his wild pranks, and came up, neighing aloud for joy, till he stood close to the knight, and there bent his proud head humbly to the ground. Sir Otto immediately alighted from his borrowed horse, kissed his old faithful comrade, and mounted without waiting for saddle or bridle, while the light-brown, with his cheering voice, announced, even as loud as a herald’s trumpet, their approach to castle Waldeck. When Swerker, who stood on the watch-tower, heard the sounds, he rushed down to the stables, threw himself on horseback, and came out at full speed to meet them. Then there were indeed right cordial greetings and congratulations, full of brotherly confidence and affection; but when the first tumult of their joy was over, and they rode on quietly together, Sir Otto inquired wherefore his favourite steed had been suffered thus to wander at large through the forest? “Sir Knight,” answered Swerker, “your horse could by no means be tamed or kept in peace since you left us. He would not come under any roof, nor has taken food from any rack or manger; but while the Lady Hildiridur was yet in the charcoal-man’s hut, and thereafter since her coming to this castle, he failed not to gallop round and round her habitation, as if it had been his duty to guard her from every danger.” More earnestly than ever Sir Otto now caressed his steed, clapping him on the neck as he rode, while the sagacious creature turned back his head, and looked as if to thank him for his kind approval.

At length they rode into the fortress, where Hildiridur stood weeping in the portal. Sir Otto flew to embrace her, and in his great joy at their meeting, for a space forgot the affliction that he had before felt for the untimely fate of Sir Heerdegen.