CHAPTER VII.

How the Knights discoursed on their sea-voyage.

It was now a very beautiful evening; the breezes were mild and favourable, as the fleet of Sir Arinbiorn sailed along through the North Sea. The land had quite vanished away, and Sir Otto sat on the deck with a harp in his hand, watching the last golden rays of the setting sun. At last, while the sea-monarch, seemingly lost in thought, stood near him, leaning on the mast, the Knight of Trautwangen began to sing a romantic ballad, addressed to the beloved Blanchefleur, whose image rose on his imagination, sitting in her bower in the blooming vale of Gascony, twining wreaths of “_forget-me-not_” in honour of him who was now far remote. During his song, the sea-monarch had sat down beside him, leaning his head on his hand. As the last notes had softly died away he stretched himself on the deck, with his eyes dim with tears and fixed on the calm azure sky. “I shall now relate to you some events,” said Sir Arinbiorn, “which your song has just awoke in my remembrance. But let me begin and end my story, as I am now resting here; for, with one’s eyes fixed on the deep, changeless vault of heaven, the mind is calmed, and full of hope and trust.”--“Truly I have felt thus too,” replied Sir Otto, “when I have gazed on the blue depths above us.”--“So much the better,” said Sir Arinbiorn; “and you will allow also, that when we are thus sailing on the wide waters, that contemplation is more especially delightful; for here indeed it seems as if we had the same azure depths both below and above. Listen then attentively with thine heart as well as with thine ears, that my words may find a friendly echo in thy bosom.

“It was during my last campaign, when I happened to be in pursuit of a Finland mountaineer, who had several times shot at me in vain with his cross-bow, and, as he now perceived how determined I was in chase of him, he might well suppose to pray for mercy at my hands would be wholly unavailing. He was in the wrong, however, to think so; for I was not so angry as he believed, and only wished to take him prisoner, that I might bring home a trophy. But he rushed down, as if despairingly, into a deep valley, with high rocky banks. I know not indeed whether he broke his neck in the fall, or still lives, as I could not find him either dead or alive, though I searched so long that the night settled around me before I was aware, and I no longer knew what path I should follow in order to rejoin my companions. There was snow lying on the hills, so that I was glad to look round for some place of shelter for the night. Accordingly, I found among the rocks the remnant of an old half-ruined watch-tower. On calling aloud at the gate, I did not receive any answer from within; but being so wearied that I was ready to fall to the ground, I could not wait for permission, but mounted up a winding staircase,--groped about till I came to a door, which I opened,--and having tried with my sword whether the floor within was firm and secure, I laid myself down quietly to sleep. Towards midnight I awoke; the moon had broken through the clouds, and shone through a window, illuminating some object on the opposite side, which I believed also to be a window. Through the opening, however, I saw what appeared to me at first a handsome ornamented chamber, and within it there sat the most beautiful damsel that I had ever beheld. I shall not attempt to describe to you the exquisite grace of her form, or the loveliness of her light-brown hair, her brilliant eyes, and her angelic smiles; for you will soon learn, that you have ere now beheld the same beauty; and, were it not so, words could ill suffice to draw her portrait. Now, when I wished to greet her courteously, and to apologize for my intrusion, it seemed as if she did not even notice my presence, but took up a lute and began to play on it; while, although I was not above six paces distant, I did not hear the slightest sound, but only saw her snow-white fingers gliding up and down the golden strings. With astonishment I drew nearer, and perceived that the space, which I had before supposed to be another chamber, was in truth a garden, where she was sitting in a blooming arbour, with a tall white rose-tree, like an emblem of herself, growing beside her. Then out of the thickets there came a youth, who carried a book of music-notes, and, kneeling on the ground, held it before her. One could perceive, by the motion of her lips, that she sung from the book, at the same time regarding the youth so kindly!--Good Heaven! if I could ever obtain from her such looks, I should be the happiest of all mortals, and were I never more to behold her, I should grieve myself to death! Then, wishing also to kneel before her, I advanced; but, in so doing, struck against a mirror, and found that the form which I beheld only lived on its enchanted surface! Moreover, I had no sooner touched the glass, than all the fair scene changed into the most frightful confusion; and methought even a tumult arose, like the roaring of a stormy sea! Overcome, too, with a strange and unaccountable terror, I immediately tottered down stairs, and rushed forth over hill and dale through the darkness of the night, not again recovering my usual composure, until I found myself, at the dawn of day, among my faithful warriors. A hundred times since then I have gone through those mountains, both alone and attended, but never have been able to find the slightest trace of that enchanted watch-tower.”

“Perchance it was all but a dream!” said Sir Otto.

“You might have spoken, methinks, more wisely, comrade,” answered the sea-monarch, somewhat discontentedly. “Am I then so inexperienced, that I should no longer know even whether I am asleep or awake? But you will think otherwise when you know in what mood of mind I have been since that hour. I could never cease to reflect on the form that I had beheld in the magic mirror. On this account I broke off my intended marriage with Gerda, and looked indeed at every female form that came in my way only to try whether I could discover the beautiful mistress of my affections; but, alas! she was nowhere to be found; and all others, in my estimation, were unworthy of notice. Yet as one would willingly have some name or another, by which he may distinguish that which is nearest and dearest to his heart, so, thinking of the white rose that grew beside her, I named her Roselinde, and thereafter Roselinde was my victorious battle-cry in many a hard-fought and glorious encounter. Now, when I thought of the white rose-tree, in my choice of a name, was I not in the right? For know, Sir Otto, that when, at that fatal banquet, I beheld, for the first time, the sister of Sir Folko de Montfaucon, I found in her the lady of the mirror. Her name is Blanchefleur, which is, as one should say, a white rose, or, otherwise, Roselinde.”

“You are now, then, perchance, a happy bridegroom?” said Sir Otto.

“No,” said the sea-monarch, with a sigh; “for the youth who appeared in the mirror was also at the banquet-table, and they named him Master Aleard. It seemed to me, moreover, as if Blanchefleur often cast on him, though by stealth and fearfully, those looks which to me were dearer than all the treasures of the world. So, in doubt and apprehension, I was forced to keep silence. This Master Aleard was also a minstrel; and methinks, if sweet songs instead of victorious wreaths are the gifts by which Blanchefleur is to be won, I would gladly travel through the whole earth in quest of ballads and music, and, instead of a warlike knight, would be a soft-hearted minstrel----

“But what noise is that in the third vessel?” cried he, starting up; and a captain drew near, announcing that there was a ship in view full of armed men, which they had already hailed, demanding whether her crew were friends or foes; but of this no notice had been taken, and she had set all her sails as if determined on flight. Already she was at a considerable distance. “Have you still the Greek fire-balls that we brought from Constantinople?” said Sir Arinbiorn; and receiving an answer in the affirmative; “Take then some of your arrows, wrap them round with flax or tow, filled with that fire, and shoot them at these mysterious strangers. If they will not hear we shall make them feel.”

Accordingly, in a few moments, those fiery arrows flew like meteors through the dusk of the evening against the strange vessel. By their own light it was easy to perceive the devastation which they produced. Some fell on the deck, others on the rigging. The very mariners themselves had their heads covered with the fire. The lights fluttered and whirled through the ship, and at intervals one saw how two winged darts met together, and their fires united; at last the whole vessel from the deck up to the mast-head was enveloped in flames. “Quickly let the boats be prepared,” cried Sir Arinbiorn, “and let us go to their assistance. They have all thrown themselves into the water, and from thence let every one be saved. On your souls and lives, I charge you let them all be brought safely hither!”

His commands were faithfully and rapidly obeyed; so that after a short interval the boats returned, bringing with them the whole crew of that unfortunate vessel; and Sir Arinbiorn was the more rejoiced at their safety, as he perceived, by their dress and language, that they were Normans. A young and very handsome man was brought before him as their leader. “Is it possible!” said the sea-monarch; “do mine eyes deceive me, or is it to my good cousin Kolbein that we have done this wrong?” “Ay truly, you have done wrong to burn my fine ship,” said the captive; “and little did I think that I should have you to thank for her destruction.” “Who then gave you permission,” said Sir Arinbiorn, “to venture out on the sea, before you were acquainted with the laws of our watery realm? If a small ship is hailed by a large fleet, it must slacken sail, and return a friendly answer, otherwise friends are turned into foes. You have learned to-day how little right you had to persist in silence.” “Thereupon methinks you might have instructed me without the use of your fiery arrows,” answered Kolbein; “but since you have said so, and I do not forget how renowned and experienced you are upon the seas, I feel convinced that I must be in the wrong, and beseech your forgiveness, if I have behaved in a manner unbecoming and inconsistent with your laws.” “There is no need of apology,” said Sir Arinbiorn; “you have now learned these laws after such manner, that you are not likely ever to forget them.” So they shook hands, and the whole party went happily to the banquet-table together.