Sintram and His Companions — 05 - Chapters 11-13
CHAPTER 11
The joyful calm which came over Sintram on this day appeared to be more than a passing gleam.
If too, at times, a thought of the knight Paris and Helen would inflame his heart with bolder and wilder wishes, it needed but one look at his scarf and sword, and the stream of his inner life glided again clear as a mirror, and serene within.
“What can any man wish for more than has been already bestowed on me?
” would he say to himself at such times in still delight.
And thus it went on for a long while.
The beautiful northern autumn had already begun to redden the leaves of the oaks and elms round the castle, when one day it chanced that Sintram was sitting in company with Folko and Gabrielle in almost the very same spot in the garden where he had before met that mysterious being whom, without knowing why, he had named the little Master.
But on this day how different did everything appear!
The sun was sinking slowly over the sea, the mist of an autumnal evening was rising from the fields and meadows around, towards the hill on which stood the huge castle.
Gabrielle, placing her lute in Sintram’s hands, said to him, “Dear friend, so mild and gentle as you now are, I may well dare to entrust to you my tender little darling.
Let me again hear you sing that lay of the land of flowers; for I am sure that it will now sound much sweeter than when you accompanied it with the vibrations of your fearful harp.
” The young knight bowed as he prepared to obey the lady’s commands.
With a grace and softness hitherto unwonted, the tones resounded from his lips, and the wild song appeared to transform itself, and to bloom into a garden of the blessed.
Tears stood in Gabrielle’s eyes; and Sintram, as he gazed on the pearly brightness, poured forth tones of yet richer sweetness.
When the last notes were sounded, Gabrielle’s angelic voice was heard to echo them; and as she repeated, “Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers,” Sintram put down the lute, and sighed with a thankful glance towards the stars, now rising in the heavens.
Then Gabrielle, turning towards her lord, murmured these words: “Oh, how long have we been far away from our own shining castles and bright gardens!
Oh, for that land of the sweetest flowers!
” Sintram could scarce believe that he heard aright, so suddenly did he feel himself as if shut out from paradise.
But his last hope vanished before the courteous assurances of Folko that he would endeavour to fulfil his lady’s wishes the very next week, and that their ship was lying off the shore ready to put to sea.
She thanked him with a kiss imprinted softly on his forehead; and leaning on his arm, she bent her steps, singing and smiling, towards the castle.
Sintram, troubled in mind, as though turned into stone, remained behind forgotten.
At length, when night was now in the sky, he started up wildly, ran up and down the garden, as if all his former madness had again taken possession of him; and then rushed out and wandered upon the wild moonlit hills.
There he dashed his sword against the trees and bushes, so that on all sides was heard a sound of crashing and falling.
The birds of night flew about him screeching in wild alarm; and the deer, startled by the noise, sprang away and took refuge in the thickest coverts.
On a sudden old Rolf appeared, returning home from a visit to the chaplain of Drontheim, to whom he had been relating, with tears of joy, how Sintram was softened by the presence of the angel Gabrielle, yea, almost healed, and how he dared to hope that the evil dreams had yielded.
And now the sword, as it whizzed round the furious youth, had well-nigh wounded the good old man.
He stopped short, and clasping his hand, he said, with a deep sigh, “Alas, Sintram!
my foster-child, darling of my heart, what has come over thee, thus fearfully stirring thee to rage?
” The youth stood awhile as if spell-bound; he looked in his old friend’s face with a fixed and melancholy gaze, and his eyes became dim, like expiring watch-fires seen through a thick cloud of mist.
At length he sighed forth these words, almost inaudibly: “Good Rolf, good Rolf, depart from me!
thy garden of heaven is no home for me; and if sometimes a light breeze blow open its golden gates, so that I can look in and see the flowery meadow-land where the dear angels dwell, then straightway between them and me come the cold north wind and the icy storm, and the sounding doors fly together, and I remain without, lonely, in endless winter.
” “Beloved young knight, oh, listen to me--listen to the good angel within you!
Do you not bear in your hand that very sword with which the pure lady girded you?
does not her scarf wave over your raging breast?
Do you not recollect how you used to say, that no man could wish for more than had fallen to you?
” “Yes, Rolf, I have said that,” replied Sintram, sinking on the mossy turf, bitterly weeping.
Tears also ran over the old man’s white beard.
Before long the youth stood again erect, his tears ceased to flow, his looks were fearful, cold, and grim; and he said, “You see, Rolf, I have passed blessed peaceful days, and I thought that the powers of evil would never again have dominion over me.
So, perchance, it might have been, as day would ever be did the Sun ever stand in the sky.
But ask the poor benighted Earth, wherefore she looks so dark!
Bid her again smile as she was wont to do!
Old man, she cannot smile; and now that the gentle compassionate Moon has disappeared behind the clouds with her only funeral veil, she cannot even weep.
And in this hour of darkness all that is wild and mad wakes up.
So, stop me not, I tell thee, stop me not!
Hurra, behind, behind the pale Moon!
” His voice changed to a hoarse murmur at these last words, storm-like.
He tore away from the trembling old man, and rushed through the forest.
Rolf knelt down and prayed, and wept silently.
CHAPTER 12
Where the sea-beach was wildest, and the cliffs most steep and rugged, and close by the remains of three shattered oaks, haply marking where, in heathen times, human victims had been sacrificed, now stood Sintram, leaning, as if exhausted, on his drawn sword, and gazing intently on the dancing waves.
The moon had again shone forth; and as her pale beams fell on his motionless figure through the quivering branches of the trees, he might have been taken for some fearful idol-image.
Suddenly some one on the left half raised himself out of the high withered grass, uttered a faint groan, and again lay down.
Then between the two companions began this strange talk: “Thou that movest thyself so strangely in the grass, dost thou belong to the living or to the dead?
” “As one may take it.
I am dead to heaven and joy--I live for hell and anguish.
” “Methinks that I have heard thee before.
” “Oh, yes.
” “Art thou a troubled spirit?
and was thy life-blood poured out here of old in sacrifice to idols?
” “I am a troubled spirit; but no man ever has, or ever can, shed my blood.
I have been cast down--oh, into a frightful abyss!
” “And didst thou break there thy neck?
” “I live,--and shall live longer than thou.
” “Almost thou seemest to me the crazy pilgrim with the dead men’s bones.
” “I am not he, though often we are companions,--ay, walk together right near and friendly.
But to you be it said, he thinks me mad.
If sometimes I urge him, and say to him, ‘Take!
’ then he hesitates and points upwards towards the stars.
And again, if I say, ‘Take not!
’ then, to a certainty, he seizes on it in some awkward manner, and so he spoils my best joys and pleasures.
But, in spite of this, we remain in some measure brothers in arms, and, indeed, all but kinsmen.
” “Give me hold of thy hand, and let me help thee to get up.
” “Ho, ho!
my active young sir, that might bring you no good.
Yet, in fact, you have already helped to raise me.
Give heed awhile.
” Wilder and ever wilder were the strugglings on the ground; thick clouds hurried over the moon and the stars, on a long unknown wild journey; and Sintram’s thoughts grew no less wild and stormy, while far and near an awful howling could be heard amidst the trees and the grass.
At length the mysterious being arose from the ground.
As if with a fearful curiosity, the moon, through a rent in the clouds, cast a beam upon Sintram’s companion, and made clear to the shuddering youth that the little Master stood, by him.
“Avaunt!
” cried he, “I will listen no more to thy evil stories about the knight Paris: they would end by driving me quite mad.
” “My stories about Paris are not needed for that!
” grinned the little Master.
“It is enough that the Helen of thy heart should be journeying towards Montfaucon.
Believe me, madness has thee already, head and heart.
Or wouldest thou that she should remain?
For that, however, thou must be more courteous to me than thou art now.
” Therewith he raised his voice towards the sea, as if fiercely rebuking it, so that Sintram could not but shudder and tremble before the dwarf.
But he checked himself, and grasping his sword-hilt with both hands, he said, contemptuously: “Thou and Gabrielle!
what acquaintance hast thou with Gabrielle?
” “Not much,” was the reply.
And the little Master might be seen to quake with fear and rage as he continued: “I cannot well bear the name of thy Helen; do not din it in my ears ten times in a breath.
But if the tempest should increase?
If the waves should swell, and roll on till they form a foaming ring round the whole coast of Norway?
The voyage to Montfaucon must in that case be altogether given up, and thy Helen would remain here, at least through the long, long, dark winter.
” “If!
if!
” replied Sintram, with scorn.
“Is the sea thy bond-slave?
Are the storms thy fellow-workmen?
” “They are rebels, accursed rebels,” muttered the little Master in his red beard.
“Thou must lend me thy aid, sir knight, if I am to subdue them; but thou hast not the heart for it.
” “Boaster, evil boaster!
” answered the youth; “what dost thou ask of me?
” “Not much, sir knight; nothing at all for one who has strength and ardour of soul.
Thou needest only look at the sea steadily and keenly for one half-hour, without ever ceasing to wish with all thy might that it should foam and rage and swell, and never again rest till winter has laid its icy hold upon your mountains.
Then winter is enough to hinder Duke Menelaus from his voyage to Montfaucon.
And now give me a lock of your black hair, which is blowing so wildly about your head, like ravens’ or vultures’ wings.
” The youth drew his sharp dagger, madly cut off a lock of his hair, threw it to the strange being, and now gazed, as he desired, powerfully wishing, on the waves of the sea.
And softly, quite softly, did the waters stir themselves, as one whispers in troubled dreams who would gladly rest and cannot.
Sintram was on the point of giving up, when in the moonbeams a ship appeared, with white-swelling sails, towards the south.
Anguish came over him, that Gabrielle would soon thus quickly sail away; he wished again with all his power, and fixed his eyes intently on the watery abyss.
“Sintram,” a voice might have said to him--“ah, Sintram, art thou indeed the same who so lately wert gazing on the moistened heaven of the eyes of Gabrielle?
” And now the waters heaved more mightily, and the howling tempest swept over the ocean; the breakers, white with foam, became visible in the moonlight.
Then the little Master threw the lock of Sintram’s hair up towards the clouds, and, as it was blown to and fro by the blast of wind, the storm burst in all its fury, so that sea and sky were covered with one thick cloud, and far off might be heard the cries of distress from many a sinking vessel.
But the crazy pilgrim with the dead men’s bones rose up in the midst of the waves, close to the shore, gigantic, tall, fearfully rocking; the boat in which he stood was hidden from sight, so mightily raged the waves round about it.
“Thou must save him, little Master--thou must certainly save him,” cried Sintram’s voice, angrily entreating, through the roaring of the winds and waves.
But the dwarf replied, with a laugh: “Be quite at rest for him; he will be able to save himself.
The waves can do him no harm.
Seest thou?
They are only begging of him, and therefore they jump up so boldly round him; and he gives them bountiful alms--very bountiful, that I can assure thee.
” In fact, as it seemed, the pilgrim threw some bones into the sea, and passed scatheless on his way.
Sintram felt his blood run cold with horror, and he rushed wildly towards the castle.
His companion had either fled or vanished away.
CHAPTER 13
In the castle, Biorn and Gabrielle and Folko of Montfaucon were sitting round the great stone table, from which, since the arrival of his noble guests, those suits of armour had been removed, formerly the established companions of the lord of the castle, and placed all together in a heap in the adjoining room.
At this time, while the storm was beating so furiously against doors and windows, it seemed as if the ancient armour were also stirring in the next room, and Gabrielle several times half rose from her seat in great alarm, fixing her eyes on the small iron door, as though she expected to see an armed spectre issue therefrom, bending with his mighty helmet through the low vaulted doorway.
The knight Biorn smiled grimly, and said, as if he had guessed her thoughts: “Oh, he will never again come out thence; I have put an end to that for ever.
” His guests stared at him doubtingly; and with a strange air of unconcern, as though the storm had awakened all the fierceness of his soul, he began the following history: “I was once a happy man myself; I could smile, as you do, and I could rejoice in the morning as you do; that was before the hypocritical chaplain had so bewildered the wise mind of my lovely wife with his canting talk, that she went into a cloister, and left me alone with our wild boy.
That was not fair usage from the fair Verena.
Well, so it was, that in the first days of her dawning beauty, before I knew her, many knights sought her hand, amongst whom was Sir Weigand the Slender;
and towards him the gentle maiden showed herself the most favourably inclined.
Her parents were well aware that Weigand’s rank and station were little below their own, and that his early fame as a warrior without reproach stood high; so that before long Verena and he were accounted as affianced.
It happened one day that they were walking together in the orchard, when a shepherd was driving his flock up the mountain beyond.
The maiden saw a little snow-white lamb frolicking gaily, and longed for it.
Weigand vaults over the railings, overtakes the shepherd, and offers him two gold bracelets for the lamb.
But the shepherd will not part with it, and scarcely listens to the knight, going quietly the while up the mountain-side, with Weigand close upon him.
At last Weigand loses patience.
He threatens; and the shepherd, sturdy and proud like all of his race in our northern land, threatens in return.
Suddenly Weigand’s sword resounds upon his head,--the stroke should have fallen flat, but who can control a fiery horse or a drawn sword?
The bleeding shepherd, with a cloven skull, falls down the precipice; his frightened flock bleats on the mountain.
Only the little lamb runs in its terror to the orchard, pushes itself through the garden-rails, and lies at Verena’s feet, as if asking for help, all red with its master’s blood.
She took it up in her arms, and from that moment never suffered Weigand the Slender to appear again before her face.
She continued to cherish the little lamb, and seemed to take pleasure in nothing else in the world, and became pale and turned towards heaven, as the lilies are.
She would soon have taken the veil, but just then I came to aid her father in a bloody war, and rescued him from his enemies.
The old man represented this to her, and, softly smiling, she gave me her lovely hand.
His grief would not suffer the unhappy Weigand to remain in his own country.
It drove him forth as a pilgrim to Asia, whence our forefathers came, and there he did wonderful deeds, both of valour and self-abasement.
Truly, my heart was strangely weak when I heard him spoken of at that time.
After some years he returned, and wished to build a church or monastery on that mountain towards the west, whence the walls of my castle are distinctly seen.
It was said that he wished to become a priest there, but it fell out otherwise.
For some pirates had sailed from the southern seas, and, hearing of the building of this monastery, their chief thought to find much gold belonging to the lord of the castle and to the master builders, or else, if he surprised and carried them off, to extort from them a mighty ransom.
He did not yet know northern courage and northern weapons; but he soon gained that knowledge.
Having landed in the creek under the black rocks, he made his way through a by-path up to the building, surrounded it, and thought in himself that the affair was now ended.
Ha!
then out rushed Weigand and his builders, and fell upon them with swords and hatchets and hammers.
The heathens fled away to their ships, with Weigand behind to take vengeance on them.
In passing by our castle he caught a sight of Verena on the terrace, and, for the first time during so many years, she bestowed a courteous and kind salutation on the glowing victor.
At that moment a dagger, hurled by one of the pirates in the midst of his hasty flight, struck Weigand’s uncovered head, and he fell to the ground bleeding and insensible.
We completed the rout of the heathens: then I had the wounded knight brought into the castle; and my pale Verena glowed as lilies in the light of the morning sun, and Weigand opened his eyes with a smile when he was brought near her.
He refused to be taken into any room but the small one close to this where the armour is now placed; for he said that he felt as if it were a cell like that which he hoped soon to inhabit in his quiet cloister.
All was done after his wish: my sweet Verena nursed him, and he appeared at first to be on the straightest road to recovery; but his head continued weak and liable to be confused by the slightest emotion, his walk was rather a falling than a walking, and his cheeks were colourless.
We could not let him go.
When we were sitting here together in the evening, he used always to come tottering into the hall through the low doorway; and my heart was sad and wrathful too, when the soft eyes of Verena beamed so sweetly on him, and a glow like that of the evening sky hovered over her lily cheeks.
But I bore it, and I could have borne it to the end of our lives,--when, alas!
Verena went into a cloister!
” His head fell so heavily on his folded hands, that the stone table seemed to groan beneath it, and he remained a long while motionless as a corpse.
When he again raised himself up, his eyes glared fearfully as he looked round the hall, and he said to Folko: “Your beloved Hamburghers, Gotthard Lenz, and Rudlieb his son, they have much to answer for!
Who bid them come and be shipwrecked so close to my castle?
” Folko cast a piercing look on him, and a fearful inquiry was on the point of escaping his lips, but another look at the trembling Gabrielle made him silent, at least for the present moment, and the knight Biorn continued his narrative.
“Verena was with her nuns, I was left alone, and my despair had driven me throughout the day through forest and brook and mountain.
In the twilight I returned to my deserted castle, and scarcely was I in the hall, when the little door creaked, and Weigand, who had slept through all, crept towards me and asked: ‘Where can Verena be?
’ Then I became as mad, and howled to him, ‘She is gone mad, and so am I, and you also, and now we are all mad!
’ Merciful Heaven, the wound on his head burst open, and a dark stream flowed over his face--ah!
how different from the redness when Verena met him at the castle-gate; and he rushed forth, raving mad, into the wilderness without, and ever since has wandered all around as a crazy pilgrim.
” He was silent, and so were Folko and Gabrielle, all three pale and cold like images of the dead.
At length the fearful narrator added in a low voice, and as if he were quite exhausted: “He has visited me since that time, but he will never again come through the little door.
Have I not established peace and order in my castle?
”
