CHAPTER II.

How Blanchefleur and Gabrielle were rescued from their captivity.

Before the adventure which we have now related had come to pass, many strange occurrences had happened in Carthagena. On the evening of that day when Sir Folko de Montfaucon had been carried as a dead man into the royal cemetery, behold! there came some one late in the night, disguised in such manner that the sentinels could not distinguish his features; but they heard him strike three times as with an iron-glove, or somewhat else that rung and rattled in his hand, against the iron trellis-work by which the vault was secured. On hearing that sound, they thought of rushing from their posts, and demanding of the stranger what was his purpose there at such an hour; but in the same moment weariness and sleep fell heavily upon them, so that, one by one, they dropped down powerless, and as if fainting and insensible, on the ground.

Meanwhile the disguised man continued to ring and rattle against the iron-bars, till at length there was a strange noise of heaving and struggling within the vault, as if the dead were starting into life. This was indeed Sir Folko de Montfaucon, who now raised himself from amid the bloody clothes in which he had been wrapt, and said in a strange hoarse voice, “Good Heaven, how cold and dark is this bed!” Then, after a pause of recollection, he began again, “Or if I am really among the dead, how comes it that I yet feel such burning and feverish pain? And wherefore am I not relieved from this earthly prison, and floating through the wide realms of the blue sky?” “Sir knight,” said the disguised man without, “you are indeed alive, only you are not yet recovered from your fever and your wounds. Only be of good courage, and beware of falling into dreams. I shall be with you anon, and will make you sound and well.” Thereafter, as the strange man continued to beat upon the iron-bars, the Chevalier de Montfaucon felt his senses more and more bewildered, and saw the strangest phantoms floating around him. He felt indeed as one who struggles with sleep and frightful visions, and could have fallen once more into death-like slumbers, had not the mysterious stranger ever and anon repeated in a loud voice the same words,--“Beware of dreams, Knight of Montfaucon! Beware of dreams!”

At last the iron-wickets no longer resisted; slowly and solemnly they rolled asunder, and the disguised man stept into the house of death. “My wounds are become cold,” said the chevalier, shivering with fever, “and yet are very painful” “Ere long you shall be better,” said the stranger, who thereupon drawing forth a light that he had in a dark-lantern under his cloak, began to examine the wounds, and poured into them a healing balsam from a vial that he had brought with him. Moreover, he gently touched and rubbed them with a glittering gem in the fashion of a ring; and while the Knight of Montfaucon felt his pains appeased as by the resistless spells of enchantment, and new strength poured through every limb, he recognised the ring to be the long-contested property of Gabrielle; and in his kind physician beheld the merchant, Theobaldo.

“Now, you perceive,” said the latter, “how much more fitting it was that the ring should be in my hands than in those of the lady. You looked on it as indifferently as if it were but a part of your apparel as a knight, even like a brooch for your helmet-plume, or a bright jewel on your sword-hilt; while Gabrielle only dallied therewith as young damsels are wont to do with glittering toys. There was need of a wise merchant like Theobaldo, to find out the hidden virtues of the ring, in order that he might therewith assist both ladies and knights in the hour of distress. Are you now then sufficiently awake and refreshed? Then come with me to the palace of the grand emir. He has taken under his protection the two beautiful damsels; but, forsooth, he will not long have that trouble on his shoulders, for they shall go hence with us. Don Hernandez is on the watch with his ships in the harbour, and a boat is in waiting to take us on board.” Up started the chevalier, shaking off the last remains of his weakness and weariness, and seized boldly on his crooked Persian sword. Perceiving how it was stained with blood, he sighed and said to the merchant, “Is Vinciguerra then still alive?” “Ay,” said Theobaldo, “he also has been healed through my assistance. He has fallen into such bad humour, however, at his own evil fortune in that encounter, that he has already gone down alone to the sea-shore, and will not, unless by compulsion, permit himself to be looked upon by you, nor by the ladies.” Thereupon the merchant laughed heartily, and holding up the lantern to his own face, cut some hideous grimaces, in mockery of the proud Count de Vinciguerra, thinking therewith to entertain the chevalier. “Remember, thou strange man,” said Sir Folko, “that we stand here among the dead. But for Mutza, that perjured and lying robber, has he too been called to life again by your art?” “Heaven forbid,” said Theobaldo, “that I should be guilty of such wickedness and folly. Besides, had it been my wish to have done so, that would have been more than the ring would have placed within my power. The blow of your battle-axe has struck him too deeply and effectually. He also has been carried off in his turn, and doubtless by assailants yet fiercer and blacker than his own Moors.” “Nay, do not judge him, he is in the hands of God,” said Sir Folko, stepping solemnly out of the vault; “and lead me quickly from hence, that we may secure Gabrielle and Blanchefleur.” So Theobaldo walked away with the chevalier, shaking his head after a strange fashion, as if in disapprobation and scorn of what had been said, and yet not venturing any more to clothe his thoughts in audible words.

In a dim and solitary valley, not far from the town, lay the palace of the powerful emir Nurreddin. As they approached near the gates, they heard within the court a growling and roaring of some wild beast, whose thundering voice was such as in all their lives they had never known before. “The voice,” said Theobaldo, “is that of a monstrous tiger brought hither from Asia. The emir is pleased to lead about this wild beast with him wherever he goes, and by night he is always chained as a guard on the threshold.” Hearing these words, the Knight of Montfaucon straightway drew his Persian sabre, swung it several times over his head, so that it whistled in the wind, and then began to feel the edge with his fingers, to prove whether it were yet sharp enough for the encounter which he now meditated. “Nay,” said Theobaldo, “methinks you will not use that weapon against the tiger. Keep it rather for some other assailant, for chances may fall out against us of which we know not yet; although methinks we need not doubt of success in the end.” At the same time he drew from his girdle an arrow with a glittering metal point, and began to beat thereon with the ring; whereupon there arose gentle and melodious sounds, that gradually increased both in strength and sweetness, till it seemed as if the whole air was filled with music that floated far and wide, and then died away in remote echoes. After Theobaldo had several times repeated the same notes, the growling of the tiger became interrupted and less fierce, till at length he was altogether silent. “The monster sleeps,” said Theobaldo; “however I must continue the same music, both that he may not awake, and that I may close the eyes of other watchers in the castle. Should it happen, however, that you also should feel slumber stealing upon you, make but the sign of the cross on your forehead, and the charm then will lose its strength.” Sir Folko, who in truth had become drowsy, did as the merchant commanded; and both went on towards the lofty castle.

The tiger had stretched himself out at its whole length across the threshold of the outward portal; so that, when the door opened behind him on being touched with the ring, the two warriors were obliged to pass over him. Thereupon a gleam of the lamp which Theobaldo carried fell on the wild grinning visage of the beast; he looked like some frightful giant, whom they had slain, and who lay beneath their feet in the battle-field. In all haste they fled from such a horrid sight.

Having passed through the gate, they advanced along a steep and paved walk which led into the castle. On each side of this walk there were thick hedges of blooming rose-trees, by which they were hemmed in, and could not turn to the right or left; but, moreover, they had to pass through several iron-wickets, which were all guarded by Moorish sentinels. The Moors, however, immediately fell asleep when they heard the first sounds of the musical ring; and when the iron-gates were touched by it, they opened slowly, turning without noise on their hinges. So the knight and the merchant arrived unobserved into the very _keep_ of the fortress; but though there were here many gold and silver-lamps burning on the stairs and windows, Theobaldo shook his head, and was uncertain what he ought to do, in order, amid such a labyrinth, to discover the room in which Blanchefleur and Gabrielle were now gone to rest. Ere they came into the castle, however, the merchant had pointed out the windows of the room which he believed had been assigned to the Christian damsels; and Sir Folko now looked about him with sharp eagle-eyes, even as he would have done in the field of battle, till he was convinced what course he should pursue. At length he said calmly and resolutely, “Come let us mount up that marble staircase, Theobaldo; we shall infallibly come by that track to the pole-stars of this landward voyage.” The merchant followed obediently the command of De Montfaucon; and the latter passed without hesitation through the corridor above, till he arrived at a door hung over with a rich embroidered curtain, which they were of opinion must be that of the ladies’ apartment. He tapped lightly on the silver lock of the door; then, hearing no noise within, he spoke in a low whispering voice through the keyhole,--“Blanchefleur, Blanchefleur, open the door; your brother Folko is here in the gallery, and has come to rescue thee and Gabrielle.” “Speak rather louder,” said Theobaldo; “for the music of the ring has doubtless sealed up their eyes in deep sleep.” Sir Folko repeated his words more audibly; whereupon a faint cry of terror, as from the female voices, was heard within the room, and thereafter all was again still. “What foolish pranks have we set on foot here,” said Theobaldo in a tone of vexation; “we never once remembered that they looked on you as dead; and so must believe the voice that they have heard to be that of your ghost, come only to terrify them in the dark night. What is to be done? We can open the door by means of the ring; but, should they behold you actually in the room, they will doubtless scream so loudly, that, in spite of all the charms in the world, the whole emir’s castle will be roused. And suppose we found them senseless, and in a swoon of fear, how could we carry them to the shore, since we must hold ourselves prepared every moment against a sudden attack?” While they thus stood considering, the key was gently turned in the lock, the door was cautiously opened, and, lo! there stood before them Blanchefleur and Gabrielle, with lights in their hands, pale with terror, and in long white dresses, like two beautiful apparitions from the world of spirits. “We know but too well, dearest brother,” said Blanchefleur, “that you died yesterday of your fearful wounds. Therefore, you would not have come again, only to tell us these sad tidings; but your voice, methought, spoke of our being rescued. Then, if violence and dishonour here await us, we are ready to follow you, even into the grave.” Thereupon, their tender and lovely frames trembled with fear, and their voices faltered; but not the less did a spirit of unchangeable resolution prevail in their looks; and before Sir Folko had time to answer, the Lady Gabrielle addressed him:--“Since in the other world, oh, deeply honoured spirit! all may be better known to thee than heretofore, I need not say now how truly I did love thee, though, whilst thou wert among us here, no one ever heard that confession from my lips. But command now your servant, oh, brave and noble hero! for she is willing to follow thee, even to death.”

So Sir Folko kneeled humbly, and, blushing in his great joy before her, said, “Still I am alive, divine Gabrielle; my soul inhabits yet its mortal frame; but, nevertheless, your angelic words have placed me even in this world among the number of the blessed.”

Blushing deeply, Gabrielle drew back, ashamed and terrified to think of the confession that she had so rashly made, in the presence too of Theobaldo, whom she now for the first time observed. Yet her heart heaved high with delight to think that her favourite knight was thus restored to her, and meanwhile Blanchefleur lay weeping with joy in her brother’s arms.

“It is now high time,” said Theobaldo, breaking in like an unwelcome watcher on this scene of happiness and affection; but thereupon Sir Folko started, as if from a dream, and offered his right arm to Gabrielle, and his left to Blanchefleur. They obeyed the signal without a word, while Theobaldo stepped rapidly on before them. Fearing that some unforeseen accident might awake the guards from their enchanted sleep, the merchant was in great anxiety to get out of the palace; but all remained quiet and motionless. Even the tiger at the gate was stretched out, as before, in his deep slumbers; but the two damsels were terrified, and would not be persuaded to step over. “Cut him deeply with your sword across the neck,” said Theobaldo to the knight, “otherwise these ladies will never accept of that liberty which we have placed within their power.” De Montfaucon stood irresolute. “I know not how it happens,” said he, “but I cannot take advantage of him when he is thus asleep.” “Truly,” said Theobaldo with a scornful smile, “I believe you will at last extend the laws of chivalry and honour even to tigers and such like irrational brutes.” “Laugh as much as you will,” answered Sir Folko, “you are at liberty to judge as you think fit of my conduct; but something always comes in my way when I would lift my sword against that snoring monster. Besides there is yet another way.” With these words he took up Gabrielle in his arms, and bore her lightly and gracefully across; then came back, and did the same for Blanchefleur, while Theobaldo stepped on, shrugging his shoulders, and shaking his head as he was wont to do when he would express impatience or disdain. Scarcely, however, had Sir Folko set down his sister safely on the ground, when the tiger started up with a hideous growl, and instantly fixed his long teeth in the garments of the knight. “Ha!” cried he, drawing his Persian sabre, “since thou art awake at last, and willing for the combat, I shall not fail to meet thee. To the shore, to the shore, Theobaldo! march on with the two ladies, for I shall soon have done with this adventure.” Accordingly, the merchant had only advanced but a few paces on his way, when the chevalier followed him with his sabre still reeking with blood, and relieved him from his post between the two damsels. Without being attacked or interrupted they arrived at the sea-shore, where they found the boat that was to bring them to the vessel of Don Hernandez, embarked safely, and ere long sailed out of the harbour. Among the party there assembled, they found the Count Alessandro de Vinciguerra; but so wrathful and discontented, that he would scarcely allow himself to be looked on or spoken with; whereupon, said the Knight of Montfaucon, “Truly I am grieved, my lord count, that you should thus continue to reflect bitterly on a combat which was fairly fought out betwixt us, and should now be forgotten. But if in such case you cannot compose your own temper, this is indeed a duty in which no one else can render you any assistance.” With the more satisfaction, therefore, he turned his attention to the Spanish knight, Hernandez, who welcomed the ladies on board of his vessel with grave politeness and the most obsequious attention.

On the following morning, when the emir learned that the ladies had escaped, and that his four-footed sentinel had been found lifeless, he said, “Since the tiger has been thus put to death, I doubt not that the brave Chevalier de Montfaucon has arisen from the tomb in which we laid him, and that he himself has carried away these damsels. They will indeed be well protected under the care of such a hero. Let no one then attempt to pursue them, though, it is true, had such a gem as Bertha von Lichtenried been of the party, my resolutions might have been different from what they now are.”