CHAPTER XXIV.

How Theobaldo departed, and a messenger announced the coming of the sea-monarch, Arinbiorn.

Sir Otto had retired to his chamber, that he might lay aside his armour, and array himself in a garb suited to the brilliant festival of his betrothment, after which the Lady Gabrielle would make her public appearance as his bride. His apartment was ere long crowded by squires of high and low degree, who were sent by the damsel to attend him, bearing rich presents of gold chains, rings, plumes of variegated feathers, and other adornments. In the confusion of his triumph and happiness, which seemed, as it were, reflected by the glittering apparel and cheerful looks of all around him, he did not think of Theobaldo’s absence, till he found himself alone at the entrance of another chamber, in which the Lady Gabrielle had appointed him to meet her, in order that they might walk from thence together into the magnificent banquet-hall. With his heart full of the delights which were so richly poured out around him, he could willingly have had some confidential friend with whom he could share his emotions, and was lost in surprise at Theobaldo’s long absence. At length the merchant made his appearance; but dressed so strangely, and in such gay and varied colours, that Sir Otto scarcely knew him at his first entrance. Perceiving this, “You are in the right,” said Theobaldo; “I am, indeed, changed in my outward garb; but in this world all is changeable. Look here, for example, whether you could recognise the knight of the black and silver armour in the figure which is now before you.” With these words he had placed Sir Otto before a great mirror; wherein, for the first time, he beheld his own person arrayed in a style of such glittering magnificence, that he blushed and was confounded. His blooming youthful countenance was half lost in the folds of a rich embroidered ruff;--under a green barret cap, clustered his golden hair, richly perfumed, and shining almost as brightly as the magnificent _agratte_ which held together the waving plumes of his head-gear. Moreover, he had a white velvet doublet, of which the slashes were adorned with green and gold; it was fitted tight to his shape; and round his waist was a golden sword-belt; while from his shoulders hung, in graceful folds, a short green mantle, trimmed with ermine and pearls. “Well,” said Theobaldo, with somewhat of irony in his smile, “that is, methinks, no dress fitted for a pilgrimage into the Holy Land.” “As little could’st thou say,” answered Sir Otto, “that the dress which thou now wearest is that of a crusader.” “Pardon me, noble sir,” said Theobaldo; “mine is still a travelling garb; and though, indeed, I shall take a circuitous route, I shall yet wear this mantle on my voyage into the Holy Land. I now bear the colours of the Count de Vinciguerra, which, as you know, are, according to Italian fashion, somewhat over gay and motley, and with him I shall in a few minutes set out on our journey homewards to my native land, where, at Naples, I shall take shipping for Palestine, in order to fight there under the banners of King Richard Cœur de Lion.” “What then have I done to offend you?” said Sir Otto; “and wherefore would you thus wound my heart, that was even now so happy and buoyant?” “You have by no means offended me,” answered Theobaldo; “but you already know that I love the sports of the battle-field, and am discontented with the luxuries of a peaceful home. Therefore you spoke but the truth, when you said this morning, that I was attending you perhaps for the last time. Not only the love of warlike adventure, but other feelings, also draw me from hence. I would wish once more to kneel on that church-yard mound, with its sheltering flowers, wherein Lisberta sleeps. Heaven knows wherefore, as a child, I was so often led thither; but it now seems to me as if my life’s best treasures were buried there, and I must by times revisit the spot. But, noble Sir, touching what you have just now said, of wounding your heart in the midst of its rejoicing, you should rather be thankful to me if I have indeed done so; for if trees are too flourishing and luxuriant, are not wounds cut into their bark? Or have you forgot the story of Polycrates, who, in order to reconcile himself with fortune, threw his ring into the water? Let me then in like manner be your ring; and Heaven grant that no fish may be on the watch in order to bring me again into your possession!” “But wherefore,” said Sir Otto, “should you be in such vehement haste?” “It is the Count de Vinciguerra’s fault,” said Theobaldo; “I have promised that I shall travel when and whither he is pleased to appoint.” “And so then the Count----,” said Otto, doubtfully. “Ay,” resumed Theobaldo, “he is, in truth, not altogether satisfied with you, being unable to forget the severe lessons which he received from one so young and inexperienced, when he related the story of Master Donatello. For, in confidence, he has since unfolded to me, that he himself was the hero of that adventure; so that he cannot well bear to look upon you now as the chief in this festival; and was indeed ready to sink into the earth with vexation, when he was obliged to deliver up to you the casket with the ring. I could laugh still to think of his looks at that moment; and in this humour, noble Sir, it is best that I should take my departure. Sad thoughts should not at such times be uttered.”--Otto replied mournfully, “You have then forgotten how you were once moved by the thoughts of parting, after you had wounded the falcon in the forest?” “Ay truly, because we should then have separated in anger,” said Theobaldo; “now, however, there is perfect friendship betwixt us, and I leave you with your beautiful bride, and surrounded by all possible blessings. So fare you well.” With these words he nodded kindly, and straightway left the room. After a few moments, Sir Otto, having gone thoughtfully to the window, saw the two Italians, in their motley glittering dresses, already riding down the steep descent that led from the castle.

The young German knight continued to gaze after them with surprise and melancholy, till he felt a light touch on his shoulder, and, turning round, beheld Gabrielle in all the splendour of dress and dazzling beauty. If the damsel had already appeared lovely and attractive in her distress on the battle-field, yet now, as a smiling triumphant bride, she was yet more angelic, and indeed surpassed herself. The coronet of jewels that adorned her hair, and the graceful folds of her costly attire, were but foils to the matchless charms of her features, and her every gesture. And in all this pomp and magnificence she yet bowed humbly to Sir Otto, and said,--“Why then is the Knight of Trautwangen so discontented and thoughtful? Is Gabrielle’s hand no adequate compensation for the departure of two fantastic comrades like those who have just left us? Come, our guests are waiting; clear up those clouded looks, and lead me to the banquet-hall.” When Gabrielle pronounced the words, “our guests,” Sir Otto seemed for the first time suddenly awake to the full measure of his good fortunes. He kissed the damsel’s hand, which was courteously offered him; he kissed also her rosy lips; for a kind look said to him that this was not forbidden;--then, full of delight and triumph, such as he had never before known, he led her, leaning on his arm, into the brilliant hall, which was already filled with company.

All the noble guests who were there assembled made room and bowed respectfully; the hautboys and flutes played a cheering march; flower-wreaths were thrown lavishly on the heads of the happy and blushing pair. Having arrived at the upper end of the table, Gabrielle pointed out to her betrothed husband the noble Chevalier de Montfaucon, who lay there upon a sofa, attended and supported by his sister Blanchefleur. “I well knew,” said she, “that there was no sight which would be to you more welcome than that of your valiant adversary now so much recovered, and able to join in the festivities of our circle.” “This, indeed, I had not expected,” said Sir Otto; “yet I might have been well aware, that for your powers, beautiful enchantress, nothing could be too difficult.” “Hush, hush, speak not of my enchantments,” said Gabrielle; “my best influence is derived from the Ring, of which your valour has again won for me the possession.” Meanwhile Sir Folko, with the help of Blanchefleur, had raised himself on the couch. Pale indeed in complexion, but smiling kindly, he proffered his right hand to the victorious Knight of Trautwangen, which the latter took with as much emotion as if it had been that of a kind-hearted elder brother, and could scarcely refrain from pressing it to his lips. The whole party now sat down to table, and thereafter every one admired the fine figure of De Montfaucon, as he lay there in his light-blue mantle embroidered with gold; while his falcon, wounded like himself, sat on his pillow, sipping now and then out of the knight’s golden cup. “I am treated here like a sick child,” said Sir Folko, “who, wherever he goes, must have his toys along with him.” There were minstrels in attendance, who compared the knight to the wounded Adonis, of whom we read in the ancient fables; and every one allowed, that, from his graceful figure, as well as heroic courage, he might well have been the favourite of the goddess Cytherea.

While they were now all happily seated round the table, fragrant with the richest viands and rarest wines, there was heard at the gate a loud and terrific blast from a warhorn, or trumpet. In a few moments thereafter, a gigantic man, completely equipt in a heavy rattling coat of mail, with a great towering halbert in his hand, made his appearance in the hall, looked round inquiringly for some time at the astonished party, and then with a courteous bow drew near to the Chevalier de Montfaucon. “Noble sir,” said he, “I have been sent hither by the great sea-monarch, Arinbiorn, your friend and cousin. He is now waiting before your gates, and has travelled thus far into the land for the sole purpose of visiting you. He now wishes to learn, whether it may be your will and pleasure to receive him at this time within your castle, along with some noble damsels and giants by whom he is accompanied. Be it known to you also, that one of these damsels is in conduct and character somewhat mysterious.” “If I had still the right of commanding here,” answered Sir Folko, “the wound by which I now suffer would scarcely prevent me from coming to the gate, to welcome your royal master. Yet now,”----Gabrielle here interrupted him, kindly counterfeiting a tone of anger: “Noble Chevalier,” said she, “if you should not here conduct yourself as the lord and owner of the mansion, it follows, that we and our guests must immediately take our departure.”--“That indeed must be listened to,” said Sir Folko, turning to the stranger: “Go then, and tell the king that he and all his train are heartily welcome. I too shall come forth to receive him.”--Hereupon he endeavoured to rise from his couch; but, reading fear and anxiety in the beautiful eyes of Blanchefleur, the gigantic messenger interposed. “In the name of King Arinbiorn,” said he, “I forbid you to leave this apartment. Though indeed a powerful champion might not die of such exertion, yet it is enough that the beautiful damsel beside you would feel terror for your sake,--and a valiant knight should never inflict pain on a female heart. Therefore, so truly as I know and respect my royal master’s will, so earnestly do I beg that you will remain here. He will come to you forthwith.” Then he shook the knight’s right hand heartily, like an old friend, and with a courtly salutation retired. “The sea-monarch, Arinbiorn,” said Sir Folko, “is a brave Norman, who now represents that family tree, from which, in old times, the branch to which I myself belong was divided, and removed from Norway’s frozen hills to plant itself in these fertile fields under the warm sun of France. The ties of relationship have ever since then been acknowledged as unbroken betwixt us, and our friendship has been proved in many stern and warlike encounters against mutual foes, wherein the sea-monarch has rendered us no little service. This title has been given to such of the northern heroes as have perchance few or no possessions on shore, but who in their fleet vessels, accompanied by brave and faithful soldiers, sail about through all quarters of the world, from the distant icebergs of the north to the brilliant city of Constantinople, or even to the shores of Asia and Africa, with their mines of gold. In truth, there are scarcely any mariners that know their way so well, and where, on account of their great excellence in the arts of warfare, they can exercise unlimited power.”

Sir Folko might have narrated still farther, and the party listened to him willingly; but they already heard the steps of the wonderful stranger on the staircase, and the eyes of every one were fixed on the portal.

END OF VOL. I.

* * * * *

PRINTED BY OLIVER & BOYD.

* * * * *

Transcriber’s note:

Punctuation errors and printing mistakes such as obviously missing letters have been silently fixed. Spelling and hyphenation in common use at the time of publication have been kept as is. Instances of the same word differing in hyphenation have in most cases been changed to match the majority variant, or using information from other sources.

Volume number added under “The Magic Ring”, before the first chapter. The footnote has been relocated to the end of the chapter to better fit the ebook format.

In addition, the following changes have been made: p.xiii: FOUQUE to FOUQUÉ p.75: Mountfaucon to Montfaucon p.226: chesnut to chestnut P.242: humilitud to humilitude P.247, 277, and 282: Allessandro to Alessandro

New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.