CHAPTER XXVI.

How the Lady Bertha von Lichtenried came to break the Spells of Theobaldo, and afterwards took from him the Magic Ring.

But ere that stern judgment could be fulfilled, there was a new voice that called aloud,--“Halt, halt!” and the tones even of that simple mandate were supernaturally sweet, as if the voice had descended from the blessed heights of Paradise. Suddenly, therefore, the tumult ceased as if by some new and more resistless incantation; for the sounds, at once sweet and powerful, had penetrated deeply into every heart, so that all stood motionless, not only amazed, but almost reconciled. It seemed as if the rage and wrath which formerly prevailed were at once cooled and overcome; and, though some among the countrymen nearest to Theobaldo began again to lift their clubs and swords, their advance was checked by armed warriors mounted on beautiful white horses, who, with their foreign dresses, gleaming sabres, and light javelins, struck all the beholders with astonishment. Theobaldo now was silent, and held his hand over his eyes, as if he had been dazzled by the glare of the noonday sun.

The form that now appeared entering the court might well have been compared to sun; but the beams of light that this beautiful apparition spread abroad were dazzling only to the guilty beholders. To all others they were refreshing and delightful. It was a damsel mounted on a snow-white palfrey, with a heavenly smile on her features, reflecting the inward peace and serenity of her mind. Of her aspect, indeed, one could not say whether dignity or child-like innocence prevailed most therein. It was her voice which had commanded the combatants to halt, and her beauty that had confounded Theobaldo. The horsemen now ranged themselves around her; and, moreover, she was accompanied by a grave stately man, attired in flowing purple robes, and with a large golden cross on his breast. The thunder-storm rolled away in dying murmurs towards the west; the rushing too of the rain and hail-showers was heard no more.

Then it seemed as if Theobaldo sought once more to rouse himself for a new attack. Grinning in wrath, he waved the Magic Ring high over his head; but the damsel again called out in the same silvery tones, “Halt! against such an adversary as thou, the holy father of the church has afforded me this means of protection!” With these words, she took out a golden phial from her bosom, and, advancing towards Theobaldo, threw part of its contents, which shone like rain in the sunlight, towards him; whereupon the once so potent enchanter fell trembling on his knees. “That is not enough,” said the maiden; and with these words, a strange severity came over her beautiful features. “Deliver up the ring!” and perceiving that Theobaldo still lingered, and grinned in his disappointment and terror, she held out the phial, and continued, “Or shall I once more prove the strength of this, which, as thou well knowest, is more powerful than all the spells of which the ring has made thee the possessor? In such case, however, I cannot answer for the consequences which thou drawest on thine own head.” Hereupon Theobaldo came up to her trembling, and placed the Magic Ring in her beautiful snow-white hand, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on the ground.

Then she desired of her companion in the purple robes, that he would lift her from the saddle; and as soon as she had dismounted, she went straightway towards the lime-tree, where Sir Hugh still sat; but, as if inspired with new life by the presence of her who thus approached him, he threw aside the dark garments of Zelotes, and once more looked up cheerfully on the clear sunlight and cloudless heaven. For a moment, indeed, when he fixed a serious gaze on Sir Arinbiorn’s helmet, a shudder of apprehension passed through his frame, and he exclaimed, “Good Heaven! there is also the Avenger with his vulture’s wings. But he must have come hither for reconciliation; for I see near him an angelic form, whose divine features are well known to me.” “Ay, indeed,” said the damsel, “he comes but for reconciliation; and all must this day be reconciled.” Her words sounded like a strain of celestial music. She then led up to the old knight her strangely-attired companion, (who looked half Arab half Christian,) and added, “As truly as thou wert once known on the distant island of Crete as the brave Sir Hygies, so truly is this Moorish champion your son; and his mother was the rose-like maiden of Damascus, who dwelt for a time in the cavern of Zeus the sorcerer. Erewhile he hath acquired renown far and wide as the grand emir Nurreddin; but now he bears the Christian, and far more honoured name, Christophorus.”

The father and son looked long at each other, their eyes gleaming in silent emotion. During their long lives it could scarcely have been said that they had ever beheld each other; now the father sat with his snow-white locks under the shade of that old ancestral lime-tree, and before him stood Christophorus, already advanced in years. Suddenly the latter felt oppressed by deep awe and veneration, and, forgetting his former resentment, he was about to kneel in the humility of his filial love; but Sir Hugh took him in his arms, and cried aloud, “Welcome, welcome, thou noble Damascene blade, worthy and valiant offspring from the beauteous Rose of Damascus!” So they stood locked in each other’s embrace, and weeping in their great joy; while Blanchefleur, smiling sweetly, looked up, and said, “Kind Heaven, how I thank thee for having bestowed on me such an affectionate and venerable father!” Hearing these words, the old man laid his hand on her beautiful head, with its luxuriant glossy curls, and blessed her; at the same time De Montfaucon came up, announcing to his former guardian and instructor, how he had constantly watched over his beautiful half-sister, and that it was not through his neglect, but only through the changeful fortunes of the battle-field, that she had been deprived of the Magic Ring, which ought now to have been on her finger. “However,” added he, “it would not have so readily come to pass, that I should have been forced to give up her rights in the lists, had not thy own noble son stepped forward into the ring; then the strength and skill of the scholar yielded to him, who carried by inheritance the powers of an invincible father in his frame.”--Thereupon Sir Otto stretched his hand over Sir Hugh’s hoary head, in friendly salutation, to the Knight of Montfaucon; while the faithful falcon, leaving Sir Otto, perched on his master’s helmet, and clapped his wings for joy to find that Folko was thus restored to life. “Mark you,” said Otto, “the falcon erewhile brought to me this love-embassy, although I know full well that it was but in error.” Saying these words, he held in his hand the rose-coloured parchment, on which, when at Carthagena, Gabrielle had written to the Chevalier de Montfaucon the confession of her love. A deep blush overspread the countenance of Sir Folko, and Gabrielle drew her veil over her beautiful features. “By the result of that former tournament,” said Sir Otto, gently taking her hand, “I have some right over the treasure which I now hold. May I then exert my power?” With these words he joined together the hands of De Montfaucon and Gabrielle, who, in their gratitude, had almost dropped on their knees before their friend; but, as he instantly withdrew, and was lost amid the crowd, they fell into each other’s arms. Sir Archimbald then drew near to the goldenhaired Gerda, and cast at the same time an inquiring glance on Hildiridur, which the Druda well understood, and answered, “She has already proved herself a willing votary of the Christian faith, and I can bear witness to her ardour and sincerity.” Then the count inclined his head over the damsel’s hand, and pronounced the solemn words whereby he became her betrothed husband, while Gerda’s cheeks glowed with the deep blush of joy and affection.

Meanwhile the wondrous damsel, who was now in possession of the ring, though her accents were as mild and gentle as ever, yet, the sense of her expressions conveyed bitter reproaches to Zelotes, inasmuch as he had sought to terrify the old hero, and to force him into severe penance. “Had he not been instructed,” she inquired, “that the Saviour of mankind attracted his disciples in the spirit of kindness and love; and if, for the full conversion of sinners, fiery trials and suffering must be employed, our heavenly Father himself provides means for this purpose, and often by assistants unwonted and unlooked-for?” Zelotes now stood humbly, with his eyes fixed on the ground, before the damsel, and acknowledged her supremacy by his silent respect. Meanwhile the unfortunate Sir Otto fixed his eyes with melancholy anxiety on the lady. He knew not indeed if she were Bertha or a stranger; but, in either case, felt that it could only be the most manifest tokens of kindness and condescension on her part, that could give him any right to express to her, even in the humblest manner, his admiration and love.

At length a kind glance from her beautiful blue eyes was suffered to fall on him.--“Knight of Trautwangen,” said she, “wherefore art thou so disguised in that black armour? Methinks thou would’st do better to d’on again thy silver harness, which is now worn by the Count Archimbald von Waldeck. I know indeed that you are both bound by a vow; but your vow, my lord count, is already redeemed; for in the Hartz forest it was your fortune, without the use of arms, to bring both armour and living knights out of that cavern, which, but for your aid, would have been their grave. As for thee, Sir Otto, thou should’st no longer look with terror on the stain of Heerdegen’s blood on the silver cuirass; for that is already effaced by the deep wound which thou did’st receive in his defence, when thou would’st willingly have resigned thy life to save him. Zelotes, whom I chanced to meet on the road hither, has informed me of all. Alas! for the faithful and brave Heerdegen!”--At these words tears shone under the fringe of her long shady eyelashes. Suddenly, however, she went towards Otto, bent down her head, and kissed the scars that were left by Sir Kolbein’s battle-axe on his corslet, and said,--“Thus a devout maiden releases both of you from your vows. Go, and exchange once more your coats-of-mail.”--The two knights bowed in silent obedience, and, accompanied by their squires, retired into the castle.

Meanwhile the mysterious damsel commanded that a large fire should be kindled on the hearth of the great hall; and ere long the blaze was seen through the open door and windows, gleaming under the shade of the green luxuriant lime-trees.

By this time the two warriors had returned with their armour changed; Sir Archimbald again in his dark cuirass, with his terrific eagle’s visor, and Sir Otto, with the reflection on his youthful blooming features of that silver mail with which he had been adorned when he first parted from his beloved cousin Bertha.

The majestic damsel now came towards the great chimney in the ancestral hall, sprinkling the hearth with consecrated water from her golden phial, then, clasping her beautiful hands, turned for a moment to the lookers-on, and said,--“In this solemn hour beware of evil thoughts!”

But who indeed could, at such a time, have required this admonition, when they beheld that beautiful form like a visitant from heaven, while the bright fire-light revealed the divine expression of resolution, blended with saint-like humility, that reigned on every feature? She prayed for some time in silence, then threw the Ring into the centre of the fire,--made the sign of the cross over the flames,--and, while she renewed her prayers, the bystanders beheld how the melted gold ran over the hearth, and heard how the diamonds and emeralds burst asunder in the vehement consuming blaze.

The solemn rite was finished, and, with light step, the beautiful lady came forward from the hearth; while, at this moment, Sir Otto could not help feeling in his heart the conviction, that this was indeed his dear cousin, Bertha von Lichtenried. Yet round the beautiful smiling girl it seemed as if the dignified sanctity that she had assumed had spread a mysterious though dazzling veil, as if woven of the glorious morning-clouds; for when she came towards Sir Hugh to offer, as in former times, her kindly salutations, the old man involuntarily bent before her, in respectful homage, that hoary head which ere now had been so often crowned with the laurel-wreaths of victory.

At length,--“Oh, may I be forgiven!” said she, “dearest uncle, that I have not approached you with my wonted respectful obeisance, but have appeared here as a strange lady of high degree, instead of your own humble niece, Bertha von Lichtenried. But, indeed, until this moment I was not Bertha, but the ambassadress of our holy patriarch, the Pope in Rome. To him there appeared, in a nightly vision, all the strange phantoms and wondrous adventures which hung over your house on account of the Magic Ring. So I have hastened hither straightway with Christophorus; only, having heard on the way of my dear brother Sir Heerdegen’s death, I turned out of the road, in order that I might, at the shrine of a renowned saint, pray with more energy for the repose of his soul. Not, however, till the Magic Ring was destroyed (such were the commands of the holy father) durst I make myself known, either by word or token, to those whom I most loved in the world, in order that earthly affections might not disturb my thoughts from the divine mission on which I had been sent. For this reason it was that I passed so silently from the chapel near which you had encamped,--I speak now to you, dearest Lady Hildiridur.” Thereupon, falling into the arms of her former kind friend and instructress, the benevolent Druda, she hid her blushing cheeks under the long green veil; for with these last words she had involuntarily turned her eyes towards her old playmate Sir Otto. At that moment Christophorus came up, and proffered his hand to the young Knight of Trautwangen, saying,--“Welcome, brother! by that name it rejoiceth my heart that I can address a noble youth, whose valiant deeds are already known from the north pole to the south, over all the wide world. But, as through those years when I bore the name of the grand emir Nurreddin, it was said of me, that I knew better how to dispense my largesses and gifts than any other prince of Asia or Europe, so shalt thou too, my brave German brother, learn, even at our first meeting, that I have not forgotten what belongs to the character that I had thus won. Know then, that the heart of this beautiful damsel beats for thee alone, and thou art free to woo her for thy bride.” With these words he led Sir Otto towards Bertha, who remained still with her face hidden in Hildiridur’s long veil; and, with one knee on the ground, the knight addressed himself to the Druda, and said, “Dearest mother, speak for me! I am indeed unworthy of her forgiveness.” Hildiridur then placed the unresisting hand of Bertha in that of her first lover; and Bertha, kneeling beside him, said, “If thy father, dearest Otto, will bestow on us his blessing!”--Hearing these words, the old hero laid his hands on their heads in token of consent; but he could not speak; for, as he looked on them in their youth and gladness, his heart swelled in his bosom, and words could not then have expressed his emotion.