CHAPTER I.

How Sir Otto was possessed by the devil.

The door at last opened, and bending his head, on account of his gigantic stature, a champion made his appearance, dressed in a golden suit of armour, with a helmet surmounted by two projecting vulture’s wings, also of gold. Sir Otto started involuntarily when he beheld them; he could not help reflecting on his combat with the skeleton in his father’s chapel. Behind the sea-monarch came also many strange figures; but so completely were the company engrossed by the king himself, that they bestowed on the others little or no attention. Arinbiorn stepped on towards the Knight of Montfaucon, (not forgetting to greet every lady courteously as he passed by,) took him kindly by the hand, and said, “How is this, cousin Folko? What means the intelligence that I have received? And is it possible to find such a favourite child of fortune thus wounded? That must indeed have been a powerful adversary with whom you have fared so hardly; but he no doubt is already dead; for, as to what has been told me of your being vanquished in the conflict, and of your having lost the ring to which you had so often maintained your sister’s rights, that in truth I must look upon as impossible!” “Nay, nay,” said Sir Folko, blushing and confused, “I have at last been over-matched in the lists, and the beautiful damsel whom you behold yonder now possesses the ring, this castle, and all its territories; so that I am here like yourself, as one of her guests.”

The sea-monarch bowed respectfully to Gabrielle; then begged that some one would point out to him the wonderful champion, who had not only resisted but overpowered the hitherto invincible Sir Folko. Thereupon, when the youthful blooming Otto von Trautwangen was introduced to him, he looked at the conqueror with such astonishment, that the latter began to feel offended, and was about to speak; but the brave Arinbiorn at length greeted him respectfully, and said,--“If there has been here neither stratagem, nor witchcraft,--and of your honour I cannot doubt,--then, good Heaven! what may not be looked for from one who, in earliest youth, has contended as you have done!” Again he bowed with courteous gravity; and Gabrielle, blushing with joy and triumph, laid her snow-white hand in that of Sir Otto, bent down her head, with its rich braided tresses, before him, and pronounced the solemn words, “I am the betrothed bride of the noble warrior, Sir Otto von Trautwangen!” Then the music sounded aloud; all the guests shouted and rejoiced; there was a jovial ringing of golden cups, and Otto, saluting his beautiful bride, saw, as it were, heaven itself, in the deep azure of her gleaming eyes.

“Take also my blessing, dearest Otto,” said a voice which arose mild and gentle as the notes of a flute behind him. “Heaven knows I am heartily glad to have found you so happy!” Looking round he beheld the well-known lovely features of his cousin Bertha, kind and cheerful in their expression, though pale indeed as the moonlight that wont to shine in the stilly chambers of the Lady Minnatrost. At some distance, however, like a dark thunder-cloud, appeared the frowning visage, furrowed by many a scar, of Sir Heerdegen of Lichtenried. “So then all has been but a dream,” said Sir Otto, passing his hand across his eyes, as if to banish the painful visions that confused him, while Sir Heerdegen came forward and seemed about to speak. Bertha, however, placed herself between her cousin and his bride, joined their hands firmly together, and uttered her congratulations and wishes for their long life and happiness so eloquently, and in tones so musical, that she seemed almost like an angel sent from Heaven to bless their union. The dark clouds even vanished from the brow of Sir Heerdegen as he listened to her words; and king Arinbiorn said, “Truly I had taken this damsel and her brother prisoners, having honourably won them as the prize of a single combat on the coast of East Friesland, and I had designed that they should be brought home as trophies to my native land of Norway. There too I would have been to them as an elder brother, for so we have hitherto lived together. But now, methinks, in honour of this festival, I shall set them at liberty; for I know well that the young champion whom we are met to congratulate will rejoice therein.” The hall now resounded with new and yet louder acclamations. Gabrielle, who well remembered that eventful meeting with Bertha on the banks of the Danube, embraced her kindly, and kissed her pale cheeks, while Sir Heerdegen gave his hand to the Knight of Trautwangen in token of friendly reconciliation.

Now were the party again seated at the banquet, Bertha next to Gabrielle, Heerdegen to Sir Folko, Arinbiorn to Sir Otto, when the latter perceived, that, behind the sea-monarch’s chair, there stood a tall female figure, with luxuriant golden locks, and a long sword girded round her waist, beautiful indeed, but with a stern changeless aspect; and when the young knight started up, and offered her his place, she turned away as if in wrath, and in slow measured steps left the hall. “Nay, nay, think not of her;” said the sea-monarch, perceiving the astonishment of the guests; “be it known to you, however, it had been once intended in the north, that this warlike damsel should be my betrothed bride. Her name is Gerda, and she is far and wide renowned for her supernatural arts and resistless spells. Moreover, she is our relation. But from that marriage a visionary form withheld me,--a form so graceful, so peerless in beauty, that I had scarcely dared to hope I should ever behold it, after that first time in the magic mirror, and yet now it comes living and smiling before me!”

The sea-monarch faltered and paused, lost, as it seemed, in strange and mysterious recollections. It was a pleasure to mark how a deep blush, like that of a young damsel, came over his stern warlike features. After a space, however, he recovered his composure, and proceeded as follows:--

“Suffice it, noble damsels and knights, we were never betrothed; and Gerda said,--‘If I cannot be thy wedded wife, I shall yet be thy guardian Valkyria; I shall twine for thee the garland of victory, and hold to thy lips the cheering cup of refreshment.’ Since that hour, she follows wheresoever I wend my way, oftentimes preparing for me unexpected good fortune; also now and then she brews for my behoof that wonderful drink well known among the northern heroes; after partaking of which, we remain for a long time invincible, only not against enchanted weapons. Many times I have considered it inconsistent with the honour of a true knight to use such means of defence; and therefore she has more than once given it to me against my own will and without my knowledge.”

“The Chevalier de Montfaucon,” said Don Hernandez, “related to us, not long ago, a story regarding this magical drink.”

“If used in moderation,” said King Arinbiorn, “it may indeed produce admirable effects. But, on the contrary, if one drinks incautiously, such direful consequences ensue, that my soldiers are afraid both of it and of the mysterious damsel by whom it is prepared. Her intentions are good; but that her character is strange and inscrutable is also true. Sir Heerdegen of Lichtenried had, in a manner best known to himself, made her acquaintance on the coast of East Friesland before he engaged with me in single combat.”

Now, while Sir Heerdegen, at the desire of all the party, described how he had seen Gerda employed in collecting leaves and flowers on the sea-shore, she had, unobserved, come back into the banquet-hall. Again she had taken her station behind Sir Arinbiorn, and had placed before him a large golden cup filled to the brim with liquor, though he himself never remarked that she had done so. Sir Otto, indeed, perceived that she was in the room, and again turned round, intending to offer her his place; but, discontentedly, she made him a sign that he should not move; then retired, as if fearful of being noticed, and continued to pace up and down, like one lost in thought, through the wide banquet-hall. Thereafter Otto lost sight of her, so much the more readily, as Heerdegen, in his story, began to speak of the Lady Minnatrost; whereupon the whole party were anxious to hear more of the wonderful Druda. Sir Otto could not join with them in asking questions; but his whole heart was engrossed by what he heard of the silent lady, with her mysterious castle, and the tranquil moonlight that ever gleamed around her. Meanwhile Bertha’s beautiful eyes shone full of tears.

At length, half jesting, half angry, Gabrielle whispered to her bridegroom, “How is this? Already on your bridal day so thoughtful and absent?” Sir Otto was about to excuse himself; but she continued, smiling, “Nay, nay, your thoughts are now far from hence, and are exclusively devoted, though _how_ we know not. You are a German; yet for a long time the wine-cup has stood untouched before you. Have you once, during the banquet, drank to the health of Gabrielle?”

“My life, my happiness, my crown of victory!” cried Sir Otto, scarce knowing what he said; and, in the inspiration of the moment, he drank out the contents of the goblet which stood nearest him, not till afterwards perceiving that it was the golden cup of King Arinbiorn. Then some one touched him on the shoulder, and turning round, he perceived that it was Gerda, who, with threatening gestures, addressed to him some monitory words, of which he then understood not the import. Like a stream of liquid fire, the drink which he had swallowed now burned within him; at the same time he remarked, how Gerda had taken her place opposite to him in a corner of the hall. There she held the battle-axe of King Arinbiorn in her hands, while, by the motion of her lips, he could perceive that she was busily occupied in prayers or incantations. She made strange gestures too, as if she wrote upon or inscribed magic signs upon its iron head, though all the while her eyes were steadfastly fixed upon the Knight of Trautwangen. At last she came nearer, and placed the battle-axe by the sea-monarch’s chair; then stepped mournfully out of the hall.

Meanwhile the songs of the minstrels and discourse of the guests became always more lively round the banquet-table. All seemed happy and contented with one another; while the heroic ballads and legends, thrown in by the wise harpers and bards, were like flowers and blossoms of that joy which was implanted in every breast.

Meanwhile, Sir Otto’s feelings alone were discordant; and he, that should have been the gayest of the gay, was the only one of the party in whom the music that rose all around him awoke the most fierce and frightful emotions. Every word uttered by the minstrels excited him to wrath. Every shape around him was frightfully transformed; the very hall itself seemed changed; its roof contracted, and descended lower and lower, till he believed himself confined in a dreary chapel-vault. As he looked on Sir Arinbiorn, Sir Heerdegen, the Knight of Montfaucon, even on Bertha and his beloved Gabrielle, the features of all were horribly distorted. At last the vision of the narrow vault faded away, and he thought that he was gasping and swimming for life in the midst of a raging sea; that the waves were peopled by monstrous fishes, with human heads, which opened their vast jaws to swallow him alive. Especially there was among them one far more hideous than the rest, which had on his head a pair of great vulture’s wings, and in his teeth carried a death’s-head, whereon the scars of many sword-strokes were visible. “He has brought it from my father’s chapel!” thought Sir Otto; and then he recollected himself, and became convinced that the only one near him, who wore such vulture’s wings, was the brave King Arinbiorn, who sat with him in friendship and peace at the banquet. Soon after, however, he again thought that the sea-monarch might indeed prove as frightful an enemy as the spectre-fish which threatened him; and he remembered all the strange stories of ghosts and demons, and shadowy phantoms, by which Sir Heerdegen had told him the Finland frontiers were haunted. He could scarcely resist the growing delusions of his brain, nor the frightful impulse to deeds of violence and wrath, which swelled through every nerve and fibre.

Suddenly he started up from table; his eyes glared horribly; his voice resounded through the hall like a thunderclap; right and left, all the guests started up in affright. He stood alone in the midst of them, wielding his drawn sword, which played like lightning-gleams round his head. “Holla, holla!” cried he; “where is the devil that would beset us? Holla, huzza! I challenge him to single combat. I shall meet him with giant-strength!”

“Heaven have mercy! he is possessed; the devil of whom he speaks has him under his power!” Such were the words that ran whispering along the walls, to which the whole party had fled, that they might be out of his reach. “For the second time,” said the brave Chevalier de Montfaucon, “I would gladly venture with him in combat!” With these words, he tried to rise from his couch; but the exertion only made his wounds bleed afresh; so that he fell back, almost fainting, and, attended by the trembling Blanchefleur, was borne out of the hall.

Immediately afterwards, the Spaniard Hernandez, and three noble Frenchmen, stepped forward, in order to seize on the frightful madman. With one blow, however, from his left arm, he swept them all back against the wall, then laughed aloud, and stationed himself in such manner at the portal, that no one could venture out of the apartment. “Throw spears, knives, and daggers at him!” was now cried from all sides; nor were Bertha’s gentle entreaties to spare him yet a while heard amid the confusion. The knives and spears were thrown; they struck him; and though he wore no coat-of-mail, yet they fell to the floor without inflicting the slightest wound. “These devilish fish are spouting water against me,” said the madman, again laughing loudly and horribly. “The devil is indeed within him, and protects him,” was now whispered about; “he is at once his friend and his master!” “No, no!” said Bertha, “that may never be!” Her bright blue eyes gleamed full of love and confidence; and in a voice like divine music, she said,--“Otto, my dearest Otto, give me, in God’s name, your hand, and follow me in peace to your chamber!” She went up to him so cheerfully and lovingly, that every one believed her victory secure; but the tempest which raged within Sir Otto’s brain became only more furious and uncontrollable. “What would’st thou here, horrible pale-visaged witch?” cried he, in his voice of thunder. Therewith he struck the hand so kindly offered him with his sharp sword, and Bertha fell back fainting to her place. Sir Heerdegen supported her; and though his eyes glared in wrath at the madman, yet he dared not for the moment leave his pale wounded sister to wreak the vengeance which he would so gladly have fulfilled.

Then the sea-monarch, Arinbiorn, came forward. “Either shall this diabolical madman,” said he, “compensate for the blood that he has drawn from that beauteous damsel, or the last of mine shall be shed in her cause.” With these words, he placed himself before Sir Otto, and lifted his battle-axe. “Ha! thou art come again?” cried the madman: “Vulture’s wings! Death’s head! wilt thou have another blow from the Knight of Trautwangen? There, Satan, be then on thy guard!” “Thou art thyself the devil of whom thou speak’st,” cried the sea-monarch; and though Sir Otto’s sword moved incessantly over his head, yet the powerful battle-axe descended with resistless force, and the miserable knight fell without a word, and lay motionless on the ground.