CHAPTER III.
Of a meeting between Sir Otto and the Sea-monarch in the forest.
Now, after a bitter cold winter, the spring had begun to look out again upon the Ardennes mountains, though the scenes were yet oftentimes darkened by rain-clouds, the north wind contended with the zephyr, and the streams were swollen with melting snows. There it befell once on a day, towards evening, that a knight mounted on a stately horse, and arrayed in bright golden armour, came from the heights of the wood-covered hills into a narrow valley, so lonely and silent, that it seemed hidden and closed up from all the world. The horseman had a great battle-axe hung by gold chains from his saddle, two golden vulture’s wings adorned his helmet; it was the sea-monarch, Arinbiorn.
He had not rode far into this sequestered vale, when, lo! there came out of the thickets a wild brown horse, which advanced at full speed, and making a furious attack on the sea-monarch’s tall charger, threw him down with violence ere the rider could quit his seat, so that both fell together; and the wild horse continued without mercy his warlike assault. Sir Arinbiorn’s golden armour was already shattered, and his charger bled from many severe wounds, when a powerful voice called aloud from a rocky cliff, “Ruhig, du Bursch!” whereupon the raging animal, bowing his head humbly towards the ground, stood motionless as a statue. The brave Sir Arinbiorn then disengaged himself from the stirrup, and raised up his wounded steed, in which work he was assisted by the stranger, whose voice had sounded from the cliffs. Looking on his companion, the knight perceived that he was a man clothed in rough bear-skins, frightful to behold, while his long hair and beard nearly concealed his features. His voice, however, sounded so mild and friendly, and his whole demeanour was so courteous, that the sea-monarch did not hesitate to accept his invitation, and accompany him to his dwelling, which was not far distant.
They came accordingly to a cave in the rocks, of which the entrance was sheltered and adorned by the projecting fantastic roots of old oak-trees. Deep in the abyss within, a warm fire was blazing, and as they approached nearer, the light fell on a complete suit of armour, which hung upright on a pole, so that the strange fashion of its ornaments was clearly revealed. They were of burnished silver, contrasting with black steel, and the helmet had a visor representing the hooked bill of an eagle. There was also a glittering sword, but in two pieces, tied together with rushes; and the whole stood there like a monumental trophy, such as one finds in old chapels over the grave of some renowned champion. Sir Arinbiorn thought at first, that there was indeed a warrior thus attired leaning against the wall; but soon after perceived that the head-piece was void; and yet he could not repress certain thoughts of ambuscade and stratagem, in consequence of which perhaps his own armour might ere long be hung up in the cave as this was now! So he grappled at the battle-axe, which he had disengaged from his saddle and brought with him into the cavern. Then said the wild man in the bear’s-skin, “Sir Knight, I pray you, take no care for your safety here. These are but my own weapons and coat-of-mail, or rather what were once mine; for now I shall never wear them more. I am in truth no assassin, nor would do wrong to any one over the wide world.” “Nay, I believe you thoroughly,” said the sea-monarch; “and my fears were indeed very foolish. For, if you had meditated any evil designs against me, wherefore would you have called off your wild angry horse; or wherefore would you have shewn such kindness to mine, laying medicinal herbs to his wounds, and leading him to a fold where the ground was covered with soft moss? For, surely, whoever takes such care for the horse, must also have kind intentions towards his rider. Will my courteous entertainer yet forgive me?” “Enough said,” answered the man in the bear-skin; “I forgive you willingly, as indeed I might, like a good Christian, say to all the world, though to me nothing has been forgiven.” At these words, his voice faultered, and he turned away more perchance that his guest might not then see that he wept, than to search out some store of food which was concealed under a covering of moss.
“So may Heaven protect me,” said the sea-monarch, “as I now firmly believe that you of all men are the knight of whom I am now riding in quest. I have been told of a black and silver coat-of-mail, and a visor like an eagle’s head, all such as I now see before me in that corner. Truly I have never yet beheld you in your coat-of-mail, but only in your festival-attire, with your green velvet barret and your embroidered doublet.”
“From the first moment, however, I had clearly recognised you,” said the man in the bear-skin. “Was it possible, indeed, that I should have forgotten the vulture’s wings, or your heavy battle-axe, of which you may yet perceive the wound by your arm inflicted?” With these words he parted his long disordered locks, so that the sea-monarch might behold a deep scar on his head. Then he resumed, “I had not thought it needful to tell you who I was; but from him who comes in quest of me I shall never conceal myself. What then is your pleasure, Sir King of the Sea? I am ready to meet you either here in peace, or on the battle-field in wrath.”
“You look at me, indeed, as if you were ready for another combat, young hero,” answered the sea-monarch; “but this is not my purpose; for Gerda has already confessed to me, that the drink which she had secretly prepared, was the cause of all the evils which befell you. Therefore I have enjoined her never more to come into my presence, nor to follow me as heretofore, by land or sea.”
“Thou should’st at least have doomed her to death,” cried Sir Otto vehemently, “lest, by her accursed witchcraft, some other unsuspecting mortal should be deluded and led astray as I have been! Could she not even then have afforded me some warning, after I had drank from that abominable cup, so that I might not trust to its illusions?”
“Nay, Sir Otto,” said the sea-king, “that was not within her power. Knowing the evils that were to come, she had been anxious for my safety. She had pronounced many powerful spells over the battle-axe which I yet wield, in order that, by their influence, I might be enabled to resist you in combat; and whosoever has in one day so often invoked the supernatural and invisible powers, falls for a space under their dominion, and must act according to their will. Moreover, after she had uttered those incantations, the spirits, who were then beside her, forced her away with them into the wild autumnal woods, where they howled like wolves and screamed like owls around her. Not till two days thereafter, when I was on the sea-shore, far from the castle of the Knight of Montfaucon, she came after me, and revealed the direful mysteries which I have now unfolded to you.”
“Ay, she revealed these mysteries,” said Sir Otto angrily; “but what avails this to me? My fair fame and my well-earned happiness are lost, and her confessions will not again restore them.”
“In what light then do you behold me?” answered the sea-monarch; “you might methinks have guessed without being told, that I dispersed immediately all my followers, in all directions, wherever any one was to be found who had been present at that banquet; and that I pledged my honour and sword thereon, that you were a noble Christian knight, pious and honourable, no less than brave; therefore, free from all the guilt of which you had been accused. Then, too, I rode myself back to the castle, in order to console you; and because I hoped still to find there the best of that illustrious party. You, however, had vanished utterly; also Gabrielle, Blanchefleur, and Folko. My former captives, Heerdegen and Bertha, were also far distant. All that I could do, therefore, was to make known the truth among the squires and sentinels, then to remount my horse, and follow the road which was pointed out to me, as that chosen by the last of the guests who had departed from the castle. On the way, I blew, at frequent intervals, my great hunting-horn, trusting that, if it were heard by Sir Heerdegen, he would attend to the signal; for in France such powerful notes are not usually heard. It befell, as I expected, that once on a time the blast came to his ears, and he said immediately, ‘There sounded the trumpet of the sea-monarch, Arinbiorn! Either he would warn us against some approaching evil, or would himself obtain assistance.’ So he and his sister halted. I overtook them, and related to him the whole truth.”
“And did they believe that I was innocent?” said Sir Otto.
“How could it prove otherwise,” answered the sea-monarch, “since they never had cause to doubt my word? Besides, Sir Folko de Montfaucon and the Lady Blanchefleur had never believed that you were a wicked enchanter; and had it not been, that he was severely wounded, and the damsel half killed with terror, they never would have left the castle. Gabrielle (for she also was present) and Sir Heerdegen were bitterly ashamed of the part they had taken against you; and, as he is an honourable and brave knight, he resolved to leave his sister with Gabrielle, and bound himself by a solemn vow, that from henceforth he would never rest until he had found you, and seen you reinstated in all your former happiness. Sir Folko would have sworn the same oath, for his friendship is unabated; but he and Don Hernandez, as soon as they are cured of their wounds, must ride into Spain, and fight against the Moors; for to that purpose they were already bound. The three fair damsels all joined, to beg that I would swear as Sir Heerdegen had done; but as I had already resolved that my life should be devoted to your service, until I had found you, I told them that vows were needless. So through the long winter I have travelled unceasingly, from land to land, and at length, with the blessing of God, have been successful. To-morrow, methinks, you would do well to throw aside your present wild attire; and as soon as you are once more like other men, to ride straight from hence to your beautiful bride, who is now along with Blanchefleur and Bertha, at a castle in a blooming valley of Gascony. Meanwhile I shall go to my old kingdom of the sea, for which, to say the truth, I have heartily longed; and so is ended the story which I came to tell you.”
“But what then has become of the ring?” inquired Sir Otto; “for Gabrielle, as I know, had resolved to give it back to Sir Folko de Montfaucon.”
“That difficulty has also vanished,” said the sea-monarch; “I believe that Gabrielle has it again in her possession; at least there are no disputes among them, and they live all happily together. During the absence of the Chevalier de Montfaucon in Spain, the Lady Blanchefleur, as I have already said, lives at her friend’s pleasant castle in Gascony, where she can receive frequent intelligence of her brother’s exploits and victories; the rest you will ere long hear from themselves, especially from your bride.”
“No,” said Sir Otto, after a long pause, during which he seemed lost in mournful reflection; “I shall not so soon receive that intelligence from Gabrielle. You must know, Sir Arinbiorn, there is nothing in the wide world which is to me so intolerable as to be pitied; and should I go to them now, they would doubtless pity me for all that I have suffered. Therefore I shall never again come into their presence, until I can appear with a wreath of victory so bright and dazzling, that they shall not only pay to me the tribute of justice, but of admiration and wonder.”
“You are proud,” answered the sea-monarch; “but I should speak falsely if I said that I could blame you for this. Let me then make to you one proposal, Sir Knight of Trautwangen. The people of the Finland frontiers, and also many inhabitants of North Sweden, are still blind and obstinate Pagans and idolaters. I have promised my assistance to conquer and convert them; and in this undertaking you would meet with adventures as full of danger and renown as you can desire. Sir Heerdegen also, had he not been bound by his vows to search after you, was to have joined me there in summer. In that land we shall doubtless perform many glorious achievements for the honour of our holy faith, and many a trophy will be won. Thither then let us go together.”
Sir Otto sat for a space in silence; but, as he perceived that the sea-monarch looked at him doubtfully and with surprise, he blushed deeply, and said,--“You perhaps believe, Sir Knight of the Sea, that when I speak of campaigns here or there, or gaining victories, that I am not in earnest, and that I am to be numbered among those poltrons who speak readily enough of the most terrific exploits, and would yet faint with terror, if one informed them, that the dangers which they pretend to wish for were likely to draw near. Is this now your judgement of me?”
“Sir Otto von Trautwangen,” said the sea-monarch, “I have travelled in quest of you through the whole past winter. Such duty, it is certain, that I would not have performed for the sake of a caitiff such as you have even now described; for, in truth, the task would have been to me as painful as it would be for a sea-lion to remain five long months without the sight of the salt water. Yet that I am surprised at your hesitation to engage in a campaign so honourable, is a truth which I cannot deny, and I would gladly learn the reasons thereof.”
“I shall answer you without hesitation,” said Sir Otto, “though at the risk, perhaps, of appearing very childish in your opinion. In truth, then, the golden vulture’s wings on your helmet are alone the cause of my doubts whether I should go with you to Finland. Even now, when their gigantic shadow fell betwixt me and the fire-light, I could not help shuddering at the recollection, how many frightful stories my father has related of a man tall as you are in stature, and who wore the same strange head-piece. Mark you, Sir Arinbiorn, my father is a courageous old hero, of a buoyant spirit; and there are indeed few thoughts by which his countenance can be changed; yet when he speaks of the man with the vulture’s wings his large dark eyes are full of horror, and he stares at some dark corner of his ancestral hall, as if he expected that his spectral opponent were ready to start out against him.”
“What then has your father related of this man?” inquired the sea-monarch, with a melancholy smile.
“Much--very much!” answered Sir Otto, “especially how this man was always attracted by misfortune, and for many a long mile over lakes and rivers, hills and dales, was forced to travel when some horrible adventure was at hand. Then, in the hour of danger, he always came to the assistance of the distressed; but, as he was always the forerunner of evil, every one looked on the giant’s appearance with fear and trembling. Above all, if any one had a weight of guilt on his own heart, he was horrified at the tall man’s approach; for vengeance seemed the special duty of the knight with the winged helmet; and never did he fail in its fulfilment, except on one occasion only, and of that event my father never would relate to me the story; for it was, as he said, too fearful a legend for one so young and inexperienced.”
“Your father has told but the truth,” answered the sea-monarch with a sigh; “there was indeed a man such as you have described in our family, but he is long since dead.”
“I believe, that I have myself fought with his skeleton in the chapel of Trautwangen,” said Sir Otto, shuddering at the recollection, though Sir Arinbiorn understood him not. Then he resumed--“It is from terror of that ghostly combat that I now feel reluctant to go with you. Who knows what frightful spectres may start forth against us from that melancholy gloom which time and distance have thrown over your house and mine!”
“Such spectres belong to darkness everywhere and in all hours,” answered Sir Arinbiorn; “and, methinks, it should be so. A new light is now to be shed on the gloom by which our northern climes are over-shadowed. The darker that the night is, the pleasanter that morning will be.”
“Ay,” replied Sir Otto cheerfully; “there you are indeed in the right, and our minstrel, Walter, has also truly sung--
“Dark night precedes the morn, So grief may joyance bring; And death leads through the wintry grave To life’s eternal spring.”
“Now, then, are you satisfied?” said Sir Arinbiorn. “Truly, if there have been darkness and fearful mysteries lowering over us in former ages, the time has doubtless come when our efforts are to change these into light and happiness. Courage, then, my noble friend!--Let us now join hands in token of your consent to travel with me through East Friesland, then across the seas to Norway, and from thence to the Finland frontier.”
“Be it so, in God’s name!” said Sir Otto; and the two brave knights, rejoicing over the friendly bargain they had made, resolved to set out on the following day. Meanwhile they laid themselves to sleep on the soft fragrant moss with which the cave was covered.