CHAPTER XV.

How Sir Otto was terrified by his double-goer.

Evening had now settled in deep shades in the valleys, the wind howled more wildly, and the clouds hung low on the heath, when Sir Otto stood alone in a dark thicket of the forest. Thus far he had been led on by the chase of his enemies; but now there was visible neither friend nor foe, and the wearied victor sank down to rest on the withered leaves with which the ground was thickly strewn. After a short time he again raised himself and looked round, though without observing any known object by which he might guide himself on his way homewards. Hereupon he ascended a rising ground that lay before him, in hopes that from its summit he might see farther; but there the woods were even thicker than below; and, instead of seeing over the beech-woods the light of the evening sky, he began to perceive the dark pointed tops of a forest of pine-trees, stretching, as if threatening, and in wrath, their pointed foliage towards him. The fir-trees were indeed wedged together like an impenetrable wall before him. “Through such a thicket,” said the knight to himself, “scarce even a bird could find its way;” and at the same moment it occurred to his remembrance, that these words were not his own, but that he only repeated what he had sometime heard from another. He began to reflect thereon, but was interrupted by the loud howling of a wolf; the voice sounded more like that of melancholy lamentation than anger; and when he approached nearer, he perceived, directly on the border where the pine-trees joined to the beech-wood, a mound of turf like a grave, whereon was stretched a white she-wolf, who was uttering those horrid cries. Observing him, however, she started up, prepared to attack him, raised herself on her hinder-legs, and grinned horribly. Otto lifted his javelin to defend himself, when, lo! there came down hill, from another direction, an old man dressed in long garments, with a great cross instead of a staff in his hand; whereupon the wolf seemed alarmed, and fled hastily into the coverts of the fir-wood. Now Sir Otto remembered well the history of the hermit and his son, which had been told to himself and Theobaldo by Sir Heerdegen of Lichtenried, when they met on the blooming banks of the Mayne. He said, as if half-communing with his own spirit, half-questioning the old man, “We are indeed on the Finland frontiers; and is this perchance the grave of the brave young hermit?” “Ay,” said the old man, “it is indeed the grave of my unfortunate son; and as I now wish to say my usual prayers for his soul’s weal, it were, to say the truth, better for me, if I were left alone to this mournful duty. Yet, noble sir, I would not that you should go forward from hence into the Finland forest. At such an hour, it might not be safe even for the best and bravest of knights to be there.” Sir Otto silently followed the hermit’s directions, still meditating on the story told by Sir Heerdegen, which had then sounded so strange, that he could scarcely believe it; and yet now he had himself been an eye-witness of its truth. He bent his course down hill, through the beech-woods, and stept onwards the more willingly, because he heard from below the sounds of war-horns and trumpets, which, as he believed, were those of his own friends and comrades.

On his arrival in the valley, however, all there was silent and motionless, even as he had left it to ascend the mountain; and the shades of night had now deepened over the desolate landscape. Otto could not help doubting whether his own senses had not deceived him, when he thought that he heard the sounds of martial music in this valley, which was now silent as the grave. But again there arose, from a direction which he guessed to be that of the north, the same sounds, and, as it seemed, from the same instruments which he had before heard. Striving more and more to recollect himself, and always gazing about him, Sir Otto at last perceived that he must turn back his head and look up into the air, in order to learn the origin of these sounds; for, behold! the mysterious bands were floating above him like clouds through the dark-blue evening sky! The story of the wild army of Rodenstein, which he had brought with him from Germany, now came forcibly on his remembrance. He considered with himself, whether this also were not some spectral delusion; yet the sounds were repeated, solemn and mournful indeed, but neither wild, nor such as could be listened to as the work of evil spirits, like those of the Odenwald. On the contrary, the tones were rather sweet and attractive.

Suddenly a warrior, in heavy armour, came rattling forth from the coverts of the woody cliffs. Sir Otto, being quite uncertain whether the soldier who came thus before him was friend or foe, placed himself accordingly in an attitude of defence; while the stranger, without bestowing on him any notice whatever, hastily passed him by. But the single fleeting glance, which Sir Otto had of his countenance, utterly deprived him of all strength, and paralyzed his limbs, making the blood run cold with horror, even to his very heart. It was, in truth, his own features that he then beheld,--his own blooming youthful countenance, though beneath an unwonted helmet; and the lineaments were so clearly revealed to him by the moonlight, which just then began to break forth, that it seemed almost as if he saw his own figure reflected in a mirror. “It is not true, this cannot be possible!” said the Knight of Trautwangen, after a long pause of deep silence. “Here I stand firm, sound both in body and spirit, and trusting in the protection of Heaven. How is it possible then that I should be thus horribly divided, and gliding along like a ghost through those impassable cliffs? Or from the fatigue of yesterday’s combat have I become insane? Or has some demon of the Finland mountains determined then, for his special diversion, to mislead and torment me? I ought indeed to have run up to him, to have thrown back my visor, and looked him full in the face. It was but my closed helmet that gave him such courage; for, had our eyes met together, he durst not any longer have attempted such deception.” He paused; for hereupon it seemed as if he heard a mild female voice calling to him from the lofty cliffs, “Otto, Otto! be not so wild of mood! Beware of those leaps from rock to rock!” He heard his own name; yet the words could not have been addressed to himself; and his blood felt again as if frozen in every vein. At length he regained his wonted courage, stood up erect, and addressed himself to a moss-grown half-ruined watch-tower, which stood on one of the cliffs above, and whence the female voice had proceeded: “I am indeed Otto von Trautwangen, and now stand firm in my place, without dreaming of such mad tricks, as that of leaping from rock to rock. As for the fellow who now does so, Heaven only knows who or what he is. If the caitiff dares to say, however, that he is the Knight of Trautwangen, he lies in his throat; for I alone may bear that name.” The moonlight now shone upon the watch-tower, and as Sir Otto pronounced these words, he saw a female figure in white robes retiring from a bow-window; but, at the same moment, his mysterious double-goer appeared with frightful accuracy of resemblance, on a sharp rocky cliff, almost close to the tower, and called aloud, while his form was again fully revealed by the moonlight, “What is it that fellow would have there in the valley? Let him be called Otto von Trautwangen as long as he will for aught that I care; but let him beware that I do not fall on him head and shoulders; for here, methinks, I have not too much ground to stand upon. My name, however, is Ottur, and the wise-woman in the watch-tower called to me;--one should hear rightly what has been said before he takes part in a conversation.--Ottur was the name called aloud, not Otto; and if the babbler there in the valley dares again to open his mouth without being summoned, I shall make free to break his head in such manner that he will never speak again.” “Come down then, if thou hast courage to venture a combat,” said Sir Otto, at the same time throwing open his visor; whereupon his double-goer became deadly pale, and fell back as if fainting with terror, rattling and crashing from the high precipice.

But now, hark! the notes of the sea-monarch’s war-horn were sounding through the valley; ere long his vulture’s wings began to emerge above the woods; and his golden shield to gleam through the thickets. Otto returned the signal by striking with his sword-hilt against his clanging targe, and ere long Sir Arinbiorn, with a shout of exultation, ran to embrace the youth of whom he had been long in search. “The Swedish general,” said he, “has been inquiring for you as anxiously as if you were his only son, and has sent out above an hundred of the noblest knights to trace out whither you had gone. How anxiously I have played my part among them, Heaven knows; and so for my reward it has fallen to my lot to be your discoverer. A thousand times welcome to my heart, thou noble scion of the northern tree, who art now loaded with triumphs and honours, even as a branch is loaded with blossoms in spring-tide. We have hunted them, young hero, even as if they had been roe, deer, or hares of the forest; for many a long year they will have cause to remember the Swedish frontier; and even in their own pine-tree forests we shall attack them as soon as the autumn and winter have past over. Do you know then already, that idolatrous banner which you seized, and threw down the precipice, was brought up again by one of your own troop? Our Finland captives howled aloud when they beheld it, and cried that their gods had forsaken them. And has any one told you, that the Swedish youth of whom you made a prisoner was the bold Swerker,--the very hope and support of the pagan army? In truth, I feel that my words are confused; for I am so overjoyed and triumphant, to have you again with us.--But what means all this? Why do you stand silent as if lost in your own dreams, and rooted to one spot? What has happened to you, young hero? Perhaps a painful wound----.” “Nay, nay,” answered Sir Otto, “I am well, and free from all wound and bruises; but, to confess the truth, the horrid and supernatural adventures of this valley----.” “Ay, truly,” answered Sir Arinbiorn; “our northern realms are indeed full of such wonders; they are twined, as if in a mysterious web, with the raging waves of our northern seas and the gleams of our northern lights; so that it were no wonder if even the most heroic heart, who comes hither for the first time, should begin to beat rather faster than usual.” “Hear then, for example,” said Sir Otto, pointing upwards to the dusky blue vault of heaven; whence again was audible the same music, and again the same troops, in their dazzling white garments, seemed to pass vehemently along. “Is this all that has disturbed you?” answered the sea-monarch: “it is nothing more, in truth, than the flocks of snow-white swans, (whose voices are indeed like clarionets and trumpets,) which in the autumn pass out of our northern climes to seek the warmer regions of the south. From this you may freely draw diversion and pleasure, without any evil mixture of awe or apprehension. Mark now, how pleasant are their voices, and how their numbers gleam snow-white in the moonbeams!” But as Sir Otto’s looks, according to the directions of his friend, followed their flight through the blue sky, his eyes happened to light for a moment on the old moss-grown watch-tower, when in a moment his whole mood of mind was changed, and his looks must have betrayed his emotion; for Sir Arinbiorn said, “Now indeed, Sir Otto, I believe that you may have met with somewhat in this valley which might appal the stoutest heart; for there stands the mysterious tower of which I spoke with you on our sea-voyage; and there, in its upper chambers, I beheld the form and features of Blanchefleur in the mirror.”--“Shall we go thither then?” said Sir Otto; “shall we at once resolve to tear the veil from those mysteries which terrify and perplex us? Methinks the doubtful shroud itself may be more frightful than all which it conceals.” Sir Arinbiorn reflected for a moment, then answered, “Night and darkness, my brave friend, are powerful auxiliaries of the foes whom you would now combat. At this hour, therefore, it were better that we should not go to the watch-tower. Yet, after all, if you are resolved on the undertaking----.” He paused, and they were both silent. In Otto’s mind there arose all sorts of strange phantasms. Especially it seemed to him, as if perchance, when they had entered that mysterious mansion, his horrible double-goer might be found sitting at the end of a long table, and reading in a book diabolical and cabalistic characters. The sea-monarch perhaps observed his friend’s apprehensions, and said, “We have besides a long way to go before we can reach our camp.” Thereupon both knights began to walk hastily down the steep hill, and oftentimes Sir Arinbiorn blew loudly warning notes on his great battle-horn. This he did, according to his own words, in order that the other knights, who were also in search of Sir Otto, might know that he had succeeded; or, it might be rather, that by such cheering music he wished to banish from his own and his friend’s heart the fearful phantasms of that mysterious valley.

The morning-star was gleaming brightly in the blue sky, when they perceived the numerous fires of the camp, now situated in a wide plain at the base of the frontier-mountains. At the sound of the sea-monarch’s signal-horn, the Norman horsemen, who were stationed at the outskirts, were immediately roused, and hastened forward to return the well-known salutation. Leaping, as if with one accord, into the saddle, they clapped spurs to their horses, and came to meet their brave leader; but, above all, the light-brown charger was not to be held neither by knight nor groom; he came into the van, curvetting and caprioling, till he had reached his master, and laid his head caressingly on his shoulder, neighing aloud as the horsemen and other soldiers gradually assembled round them.