CHAPTER VI.

How Sir Otto embarked with the Sea-monarch.

Meanwhile, wholly unconscious of the dark apprehensions which the venerable knight entertained on his account, Sir Otto was riding on his way beneath the pleasant sunlight of spring, in company with the brave Sir Arinbiorn. It was indeed no longer as it had been on his first setting out in quest of adventures, when, at the same season of the year, he thought that he had found the terrestrial paradise on the blooming banks of the Mayne, and looked on every one whom he then met either as a friend, who would sympathize in his pleasure, or a foe, whom he must honourably conquer. Wonderful might it be to consider how very old a knight-errant, or any other mortal, might become in the space of one year! Truly we may say, that Sir Otto was now far older than three hundred and sixty five days could naturally have made him. Yet he was still young enough to think, that, amid the withered leaves of his former good fortune, the blossoms of pleasure might again spring forth; and for these blossoms he looked not only to that morning light, which can only be beheld after the night of death, but he believed that they might yet appear in those oppressed sultry hours of noonday, which we here name life.

The two young heroes had now arrived on the frontiers of East Friesland; and one morning, when they had rode to the top of a beautiful green hill, suddenly the wide sea appeared before them, with its boundless domain of blue waves, with their bright coronets of foam all gleaming in the now dazzling sunlight. Otto spread out his arms, as if he could have embraced both the earth and seas in his rapture, and then broke out in a loud cry of admiration: at last he dismounted thoughtfully from his horse, and kneeled upon the grass in silent prayer. Whoever has beheld the sea, and remembers his own feelings when he saw it for the first time, will not wonder that Sir Otto von Trautwangen should be thus moved.

Arinbiorn rejoiced also, while his dun-coloured charger seemed also glad, and neighed aloud, as he snuffed up the well-known sea-air. But Arinbiorn’s joy was unmixed with wonder; it was the delight of a shepherd, who, after long wandering, comes once more to feed his flocks on well-known native plains. So, when they had thus come to the hill-top, he dismounted from his horse, and began to collect dry branches and withered leaves from the neighbouring thickets, to which he set fire; and scarcely had the blue clouds of smoke ascended on high, when behold! a stately ship, which had been lurking behind the coverts of a wooded island, came slowly into view, and made towards the main shore. “See there!” cried Arinbiorn; “my comrades have indeed watched well, and are already at the appointed place!” Meanwhile Sir Otto had risen up from his prayers, and the sea-monarch continued,--“That island, with its thick copsewood, is the same on which I had the combat with Sir Heerdegen; and here, on one of the nearest hills, must be the wonderful castle of the Lady Minnatrost, of which both Heerdegen and Bertha related such strange stories.”

With deep emotion, Sir Otto looked round for the Druda’s castle; of which, during the fatal banquet, ere he had drank of the cup intended for the sea-monarch, Bertha had found time to give him a description. Every word that she had uttered was indelibly imprinted on his heart; so, in his dreams too, he had often beheld that mysterious fortress, with its white flowers waving on the ramparts, and the tall saint-like form of the Lady Minnatrost. He thought, moreover, that it might now be permitted him humbly to knock at the enchanted gates, that he might hear, though from a distance, the divine music of the golden spheres; and that, if perchance the wise lady of the mansion should look over the battlements, she might bestow upon him one friendly greeting, which might serve to guide him in his future pilgrimage through the world, as she must of necessity be aware how her image lived and was cherished in his heart. Soon after he indeed perceived a hill in the neighbourhood, which was crowned with some dark gloomy towers; but how different were these from the descriptions he had heard of the Lady Minnatrost’s castle! There was here nothing to be seen, but ruinous walls covered with moss, and tottering as if they would fall into the deep trenches beneath. On the ramparts, instead of white roses and lilies, nettles and long grass were waving in the wind; while, among these weeds, owls and other ominous birds shewed their vile crooked beaks, or rose screaming on the wing, when a wily fox, as if he were the castellan of the fortress, marched along the battlements. “Good Heavens! what a desolate, mournful sight!” said Sir Otto, with a deep sigh. “Surely it is impossible that this can be the Druda’s castle?”

“Truly,” answered the sea-monarch, “I can hardly think that she ever dwelt here; and yet, from the situation of this ruined fortress, it must be so!”

While the two knights thus stood together, wondering and perplexed, a countryman had, unperceived, taken his station close to them. He now came forward, and respectfully took off his cap. “Ay, ay, noble sirs,” said he, “you are travellers no doubt from a distant land, and you have perchance stood, in better times, on the self-same ground on which you now are placed. I can understand all this. That is, in truth, the castle of the Lady Minnatrost; but she herself is far from hence, and no one can tell whither she is gone. The beautiful white flowers have turned into vile weeds, and the bright gleaming lake within the ramparts into a stagnant swamp; foul birds and beasts of prey inhabit the apartments; it is even said that it is by night also haunted by evil spirits. So it ever happens with whatever is the work of mortal hands. If neglected, it will not stand of itself, but must fall to ruin. It seems also, as if not only this castle, but the peace and welfare of the land, must be ruined since the departure of the Lady Minnatrost; for, during her absence, the princes and vassals have been perpetually at war, so that their swords on both sides have been ever dripping with blood. Nay, people even insist that the mad sea-monarch, Arinbiorn, will again appear on our shores----”

“In that respect they are not so far in the wrong,” said Arinbiorn smiling; “but for the present, methinks, he will not do you any harm.”

“Well, should it be so,” said the countryman, “we have doubtless to thank the good Lady Minnatrost; for you must know, that, though her castle is thus desolate, she has not yet so wholly forsaken us. More than once the boatmen have seen her by night on the sea-shore, dressed in waving white garments, and with a green veil over her head, as she had been wont to appear, and with her eyes yet gleaming like pale moonshine; but she seemed to weep often, and wring her hands. It is said, that she comes hither in quest of a certain damsel who once dwelt with her in the castle; for she used to make signals, and wave her long veil towards the wide sea; but as no one answered her, she wrapt up her face and went away. It was easy to be perceived that she avoided the castle. Good Heavens!” cried he, interrupting his narrative, “there is another battle already begun in valley! I must not lose a moment, but run to drive my sheep out of their way, otherwise they will ride over, and trample them into the earth.”

So the countryman went in all haste down the hill, and the knights remounted their horses. They heard indeed, as the shepherd had said, a great noise of shouting and clashing of arms in the valley, and soon afterwards some troops of horsemen came riding past them at full speed.

“It seemed to me, noble comrade,” said Sir Arinbiorn, “as if but a little while since you wished to visit the Druda’s castle. These clowns that are fighting there must not prevent you therefrom. In half an hour we shall teach them such a lesson, that they will thank Heaven if they escape even with life; for, see, yonder is another of my ships already near the shore, and the rest are surely at no great distance.” “Nay, let us not think of going thither,” answered Sir Otto. “What should I seek forsooth in those desolate halls, where perchance only a wolf, with her young ones, would come howling to meet me, and appear as if forsooth she were the sole owner of the mansion? Or why should I disturb the bats and owls in their secret solitary chambers, only to remember that there has been a time when the same rooms were brightened by the mild moon-like lustre of the Druda’s eyes, and cheered by the soft tones of Bertha’s voice? It must, methinks, be a frightful place; and were I to go thither, I might become mad, and speak to those wild creatures as if they were men and women. We shall, therefore, think no more of the matter, but hasten on shipboard.”

“You are in truth quite right,” said the sea-monarch; and thereupon they rode away as fast as possible to the sea-shore, where Sir Arinbiorn’s gigantic soldiers were arranged as if in battle-array, with their strange armour and weapons. The most distinguished among them, who had formerly accompanied the sea-monarch in Normandy, recognised immediately the Knight of Trautwangen. A whispering ran at first through the ranks, which soon changed into a shout of congratulation, and thereafter into a choral ballad, in which they welcomed the young knight as their companion at sea; invited him, as he had before won the Magic Ring from Sir Folko de Montfaucon, to join with them in search of new trophies, which also his valour would doubtless obtain. They concluded with a stanza, praising fervently the delights of their life upon the sea, urging him to dismount from his horse, and embark with them on the foaming waves. Therewith they struck vehemently on their great brass-covered shields, and Sir Arinbiorn, smiling cheerfully, said to his companion, “Such is the custom among these Norwegians. Whenever they are much delighted by any new adventure, they turn it thus into rhymes and ballad-music, which are handed down afterwards from father to son with the story on which they were founded, insignificant as it must often seem when repeated in other countries.”

Sir Otto, however, dismounted immediately; and, with his cheeks glowing at the praise which had been bestowed on him, he went through the ranks, and shook all his future comrades by the hand. At the same time, they were so delighted with his courteous and friendly demeanour, that several of them could not help coming forward, and embracing him heartily.

Then preparations were made, as soon as possible, for the embarkation of the horses. The dun-coloured charger of the sea-monarch willingly entered upon that element to which he was so well accustomed; but Sir Otto’s light-brown steed reared and kicked as if he were mad; so that had not his master come up, and called out, “Gib dich ruhig du Bursch,” some of the gigantic Normans must have lost their lives before they could have brought him on board.