CHAPTER XIIBACK TO THE DOVECOTE
FOR the first time in her residence at Adlerstein, now full half herlife, the Freiherrinn Christina ventured to send a messenger to Ulm,namely, a lay brother of the convent of St. Ruprecht, who undertook toconvey to Master Gottfried Sorel her letter, informing him of the deathof her mother-in-law, and requesting him to send the same tidings to theFreiherr von Adlerstein Wildschloss, the kinsman and godfather of hersons.
She was used to wait fifty-two weeks for answers to her letters, and wasamazed when, at the end of three, two stout serving-men were guided byJobst up the pass; but her heart warmed to their flat caps and roundjerkins, they looked so like home. They bore a letter of invitation toher and her sons to come at once to her uncle’s house. The King of theRomans, and perhaps the Emperor, were to come to the city early in thesummer, and there could be no better opportunity of presenting the youngBarons to their sovereign. Sir Kasimir of Adlerstein Wildschloss wouldmeet them there for the purpose, and would obtain their admission to theLeague, in which all Swabian nobles had bound themselves to put downrobbery and oppression, and outside which there was nothing but outlawryand danger.
“So must it be?” said Ebbo, between his teeth, as he leant moodilyagainst the wall, while his mother was gone to attend to the fare to beset before the messengers.
“What! art not glad to take wing at last?” exclaimed Friedel, cut shortin an exclamation of delight.
“Take wing, forsooth! To be guest of a greasy burgher, and call cousinwith him! Fear not, Friedel; I’ll not vex the motherling. Heaven knowsshe has had pain, grief, and subjection enough in her lifetime, and Iwould not hinder her visit to her home; but I would she could go alone,nor make us show our poverty to the swollen city folk, and listen totheir endearments. I charge thee, Friedel, do as I do; be not toofamiliar with them. Could we but sprain an ankle over the crag—”
“Nay, she would stay to nurse us,” said Friedel, laughing; “besides, thouart needed for the matter of homage.”
“Look, Friedel,” said Ebbo, sinking his voice, “I shall not lightly yieldmy freedom to king or Kaiser. Maybe, there is no help for it; but itirks me to think that I should be the last Lord of Adlerstein to whom thetitle of Freiherr is not a mockery. Why dost bend thy brow, brother?What art thinking of?”
“Only a saying in my mother’s book, that well-ordered service is truefreedom,” said Friedel. “And methinks there will be freedom in rushingat last into the great far-off!”—the boy’s eye expanded and glistenedwith eagerness. “Here are we prisoners—to ourselves, if you like—butprisoners still, pent up in the rocks, seeing no one, hearing scarce anecho from the knightly or the poet world, nor from all the wonders thatpass. And the world has a history going on still, like the _Chronicle_.Oh, Ebbo, think of being in the midst of life, with lance and sword, andseeing the Kaiser—the Kaiser of the holy Roman Empire!”
“With lance and sword, well and good; but would it were not at the costof liberty!”
However Ebbo forbore to damp his mother’s joy, save by the onewarning—“Understand, mother, that I will not be pledged to anything. Iwill not bend to the yoke ere I have seen and judged for myself.”
The manly sound of the words gave a sweet sense of exultation to themother, even while she dreaded the proud spirit, and whispered, “Goddirect thee, my son.”
Certainly Ebbo, hitherto the most impetuous and least thoughtful of thetwo lads, had a gravity and seriousness about him, that, but for hisnaturally sweet temper, would have seemed sullen. His aspirations foradventure had hitherto been more vehement than Friedel’s; but, when thetime seemed at hand, his regrets at what he might have to yieldoverpowered his hopes of the future. The fierce haughtiness of the oldAdlersteins could not brook the descent from the crag, even while thekeen, clear burgher wit that Ebbo inherited from the other side of thehouse taught him that the position was untenable, and that his isolatedglory was but a poor mean thing after all. And the struggle made him sadand moody.
Friedel, less proud, and with nothing to yield, was open to blitheanticipations of what his fancy pictured as the home of all the beauty,sacred or romantic, that he had glimpsed at through his mother.Religion, poetry, learning, art, refinement, had all come to him throughher; and though he had a soul that dreamt and soared in the lonelygrandeur of the mountain heights, it craved further aliment for itsyearnings for completeness and perfection. Long ago had Friedel come tothe verge of such attainments as he could work out of his presentmaterials, and keen had been his ardour for the means of progress, thoughonly the mountain tarn had ever been witness to the full outpouring ofthe longings with which he gazed upon the dim, distant city like a landof enchantment.
The journey was to be at once, so as to profit by the escort of MasterSorel’s men. Means of transport were scanty, but Ebbo did not choosethat the messengers should report the need, and bring back a bevy ofanimals at the burgher’s expense; so the mother was mounted on the oldwhite mare, and her sons and Heinz trusted to their feet. By setting outearly on a May morning, the journey could be performed ere night, and thetwilight would find them in the domains of the free city, where theirsmall numbers would be of no importance. As to their appearance, themother wore a black woollen gown and mantle, and a black silk hood tiedunder her chin, and sitting loosely round the stiff frame of her whitecap—a nun-like garb, save for the soft brown hair, parted over her brow,and more visible than she sometimes thought correct, but her sons wouldnot let her wear it out of sight.
The brothers had piece by piece surveyed the solitary suit of armourremaining in the castle; but, though it might serve for defence, it couldnot be made fit for display, and they must needs be contented with bluecloth, spun, woven, dyed, fashioned, and sewn at home, chiefly by theirmother, and by her embroidered on the breast with the white eagle ofAdlerstein. Short blue cloaks and caps of the same, with an eagle plumein each, and leggings neatly fashioned of deerskin, completed theirequipments. Ebbo wore his father’s sword, Friedel had merely a daggerand crossbow. There was not a gold chain, not a brooch, not an approachto an ornament among the three, except the medal that had alwaysdistinguished Ebbo, and the coral rosary at Christina’s girdle. Her owntrinkets had gone in masses for the souls of her father and husband; andthough a few costly jewels had been found in Frau Kunigunde’s hoards, themode of their acquisition was so doubtful, that it had seemed fittest tobestow them in alms and masses for the good of her soul.
“What ornament, what glory could any one desire better than two suchsons?” thought Christina, as for the first time for eighteen years shecrossed the wild ravine where her father had led her, a trembling littlecaptive, longing for wings like a dove’s to flutter home again. Whowould then have predicted that she should descend after so long and wearya time, and with a gallant boy on either side of her, eager to aid herevery step, and reassure her at each giddy pass, all joy and hope beforeher and them? Yet she was not without some dread and misgiving, as shewatched her elder son, always attentive to her, but unwontedly silent,with a stern gravity on his young brow, a proud sadness on his lip. Andwhen he had come to the Debateable Ford, and was about to pass theboundaries of his own lands, he turned and gazed back on the castle andmountain with a silent but passionate ardour, as though he felt himselfdoing them a wrong by perilling their independence.
The sun had lately set, and the moon was silvering the Danube, when thetravellers came full in view of the imperial free city, girt in withmighty walls and towers—the vine-clad hill dominated by its crowningchurch; the irregular outlines of the unfinished spire of the cathedraltraced in mysterious dark lacework against the pearly sky; the loftysteeple-like gate-tower majestically guarding the bridge. Christinaclasped her hands in thankfulness, as at the familiar face of a friend;Friedel glowed like a minstrel introduced to his fair dame, long wooed ata distance; Ebbo could not but exclaim, “Yea, truly, a great city is asolemn and a glorious sight!”
The gates were closed, and the serving-me
n had to parley at the barbicanere the heavy door was opened to admit the party to the bridge, betweendeep battlemented stone walls, with here and there loopholes, showing theshimmering of the river beneath. The slow, tired tread of the old maresounded hollow; the river rushed below with the full swell of eveningloudness; a deep-toned convent-bell tolled gravely through the stillness,while, between its reverberations, clear, distinct notes of joyous musicwere borne on the summer wind, and a nightingale sung in one of thegardens that bordered the banks.
“Mother, it is all that I dreamt!” breathlessly murmured Friedel, as theyhalted under the dark arch of the great gateway tower.
Not however in Friedel’s dreams had been the hearty voice that proceededfrom the lighted guard-room in the thickness of the gateway.“Freiherrinn von Adlerstein! Is it she? Then must I greet my oldplaymate!” And the captain of the watch appeared among upraised lanternsand torches that showed a broad, smooth, plump face beneath a plain steelhelmet.
“Welcome, gracious lady, welcome to your old city. What! do you notremember Lippus Grundt, your poor Valentine?”
“Master Philip Grundt!” exclaimed Christina, amazed at the breadth ofvisage and person; “and how fares it with my good Regina?”
“Excellent well, good lady. She manages her trade and house as well asthe good man Bartoläus Fleischer himself. Blithe will she be to show youher goodly ten, as I shall my eight,” he continued, walking by her side;“and Barbara—you remember Barbara Schmidt, lady—”
“My dear Barbara?—That do I indeed! Is she your wife?”
“Ay, truly, lady,” he answered, in an odd sort of apologetic tone; “yousee, you returned not, and the housefathers, they would have it so—andBarbara is a good housewife.”
“Truly do I rejoice!” said Christina, wishing she could convey to him howwelcome he had been to marry any one he liked, as far as she wasconcerned—he, in whom her fears of mincing goldsmiths had always takenform—then signing with her hand, “I have my sons likewise to show her.”
“Ah, on foot!” muttered Grundt, as a not well-conceived apology for nothaving saluted the young gentlemen. “I greet you well, sirs,” with abow, most haughtily returned by Ebbo, who was heartily wishing himself onhis mountain. “Two lusty, well-grown Junkern indeed, to whom my Martinwill be proud to show the humours of Ulm. A fair good night, lady! Youwill find the old folks right cheery.”
Well did Christina know the turn down the street, darkened by theoverhanging brows of the tall houses, but each lower window laughing withthe glow of light within that threw out the heavy mullions and thecircles and diamonds of the latticework, and here and there the brillianttints of stained glass sparkled like jewels in the upper panes, picturedwith Scripture scene, patron saint, or trade emblem. The familiar porchwas reached, the familiar knock resounded on the iron-studded door.Friedel lifted his mother from her horse, and felt that she was quiveringfrom head to foot, and at the same moment the light streamed from theopen door on the white horse, and the two young faces, one eager, theother with knit brows and uneasy eyes. A kind of echo pervaded thehouse, “She is come! she is come!” and as one in a dream Christinaentered, crossed the well-known hall, looked up to her uncle and aunt onthe stairs, perceived little change on their countenances, and sank uponher knees, with bowed head and clasped hands.
“My child! my dear child!” exclaimed her uncle, raising her with onehand, and crossing her brow in benediction with the other. “Art thouindeed returned?” and he embraced her tenderly.
“Welcome, fair niece!” said Hausfrau Johanna, more formally. “I am rightglad to greet you here.”
“Dear, dear mother!” cried Christina, courting her fond embrace bygestures of the most eager affection, “how have I longed for this moment!and, above all, to show you my boys! Herr Uncle, let me present mysons—my Eberhard, my Friedmund. O Housemother, are not my twinswell-grown lads?” And she stood with a hand on each, proud that theirheads were so far above her own, and looking still so slight and girlishin figure that she might better have been their sister than their mother.The cloud that the sudden light had revealed on Ebbo’s brow had clearedaway, and he made an inclination neither awkward nor ungracious in itsfree mountain dignity and grace, but not devoid of mountain rusticity andshy pride, and far less cordial than was Friedel’s manner. Both wereinfinitely relieved to detect nothing of the greasy burgher, and weregreatly struck with the fine venerable head before them; indeed, Friedelwould, like his mother, have knelt to ask a blessing, had he not beenunder command not to outrun his brother’s advances towards her kindred.
“Welcome, fair Junkern!” said Master Gottfried; “welcome both for yourmother’s sake and your own! These thy sons, my little one?” he added,smiling. “Art sure I neither dream nor see double! Come to the gallery,and let me see thee better.”
And, ceremoniously giving his hand, he proceeded to lead his niece up thestairs, while Ebbo, labouring under ignorance of city forms anduncertainty of what befitted his dignity, presented his hand to his auntwith an air that half-amused, half-offended the shrewd dame.
“All is as if I had left you but yesterday!” exclaimed Christina.“Uncle, have you pardoned me? You bade me return when my work was done.”
“I should have known better, child. Such return is not to be sought onthis side the grave. Thy work has been more than I then thought of.”
“Ah! and now will you deem it begun—not done!” softly said Christina,though with too much heartfelt exultation greatly to doubt that all theworld must be satisfied with two such boys, if only Ebbo would be histrue self.
The luxury of the house, the wainscoted and tapestried walls, thepolished furniture, the lamps and candles, the damask linen, the richarray of silver, pewter, and brightly-coloured glass, were a greatcontrast to the bare walls and scant necessaries of Schloss Adlerstein;but Ebbo was resolved not to expose himself by admiration, and did hisbest to stifle Friedel’s exclamations of surprise and delight. Were notthese citizens to suppose that everything was tenfold more costly at thebaronial castle? And truly the boy deserved credit for the considerationfor his mother, which made him merely reserved, while he felt like a wildeagle in a poultry-yard. It was no small proof of his affection toforbear more interference with his mother’s happiness than was theinevitable effect of that intuition which made her aware that he waschafing and ill at ease. For his sake, she allowed herself to be placedin the seat of honour, though she longed, as of old, to nestle at heruncle’s feet, and be again his child; but, even while she felt eachacceptance of a token of respect as almost an injury to them, every lookand tone was showing how much the same Christina she had returned.
In truth, though her life had been mournful and oppressed, it had notbeen such as to age her early. It had been all submission, without wearand tear of mind, and too simple in its trials for care and moiling; sothe fresh, lily-like sweetness of her maiden bloom was almost intact,and, much as she had undergone, her once frail health had been so bracedby the mountain breezes, that, though delicacy remained, sickliness wasgone from her appearance. There was still the exquisite purity andtender modesty of expression, but with greater sweetness in the pensivebrown eyes.
“Ah, little one!” said her uncle, after duly contemplating her; “thechange is all for the better! Thou art grown a wondrously fair dame.There will scarce be a lovelier in the Kaiserly train.”
Ebbo almost pardoned his great-uncle for being his great-uncle.
“When she is arrayed as becomes the Frau Freiherrinn,” said the housewifeaunt, looking with concern at the coarse texture of her black sleeve. “Ilong to see our own lady ruffle it in her new gear. I am glad that thelofty pointed cap has passed out; the coif becomes my child far better,and I see our tastes still accord as to fashion.”
“Fashion scarce came above the Debateable Ford,” said Christina, smiling.“I fear my boys look as if they came out of the _Weltgeschichte_, for Icould only shape their garments after my remembrance of the gallan
ts ofeighteen years ago.”
“Their garments are your own shaping!” exclaimed the aunt, now in anaccent of real, not conventional respect.
“Spinning and weaving, shaping and sewing,” said Friedel, coming near tolet the housewife examine the texture.
“Close woven, even threaded, smooth tinted! Ah, Stina, thou didst learnsomething! Thou wert not quite spoilt by the housefather’s books andcarvings.”
“I cannot tell whose teachings have served me best, or been the mostprecious to me,” said Christina, with clasped hands, looking from one toanother with earnest love.
“Thou art a good child. Ah! little one, forgive me; you look so like ourchild that I cannot bear in mind that you are the Frau Freiherrinn.”
“Nay, I should deem myself in disgrace with you, did you keep me at adistance, and not _thou_ me, as your little Stina,” she fondly answered,half regretting her fond eager movement, as Ebbo seemed to shrinktogether with a gesture perceived by her uncle.
“It is my young lord there who would not forgive the freedom,” he said,good-humouredly, though gravely.
“Not so,” Ebbo forced himself to say; “not so, if it makes my motherhappy.”
He held up his head rather as if he thought it a fool’s paradise, butMaster Gottfried answered: “The noble Freiherr is, from all I have heard,too good a son to grudge his mother’s duteous love even to burgherkindred.”
There was something in the old man’s frank, dignified tone of gravereproof that at once impressed Ebbo with a sense of the true superiorityof that wise and venerable old age to his own petulant baronialself-assertion. He had both head and heart to feel the burgher’svictory, and with a deep blush, though not without dignity, he answered,“Truly, sir, my mother has ever taught us to look up to you as herkindest and best—”
He was going to say “friend,” but a look into the grand benignity of thecountenance completed the conquest, and he turned it into “father.”Friedel at the same instant bent his knee, exclaiming, “It is true whatEbbo says! We have both longed for this day. Bless us, honoured uncle,as you have blessed my mother.”
For in truth there was in the soul of the boy, who had never had any butwomen to look up to, a strange yearning towards reverence, which wascalled into action with inexpressible force by the very aspect and toneof such a sage elder and counsellor as Master Gottfried Sorel, and hetook advantage of the first opening permitted by his brother. And thesympathy always so strong between the two quickened the like feeling inEbbo, so that the same movement drew him on his knee beside Friedel inoblivion or renunciation of all lordly pride towards a kinsman such as hehad here encountered.
“Truly and heartily, my fair youths,” said Master Gottfried, with thesame kind dignity, “do I pray the good God to bless you, and render youfaithful and loving sons, not only to your mother, but to yourfatherland.”
He was unable to distinguish between the two exactly similar forms thatknelt before him, yet there was something in the quivering of Friedel’shead, which made him press it with a shade more of tenderness than theother. And in truth tears were welling into the eyes veiled by thefingers that Friedel clasped over his face, for such a blessing wasstrange and sweet to him.
Their mother was ready to weep for joy. There was now no drawback to herbliss, since her son and her uncle had accepted one another; and sherepaired to her own beloved old chamber a happier being than she had beensince she had left its wainscoted walls.
Nay, as she gazed out at the familiar outlines of roof and tower, andfelt herself truly at home, then knelt by the little undisturbed altar ofher devotions, with the cross above and her own patron saint below incarved wood, and the flowers which the good aunt had ever kept as afreshly renewed offering, she felt that she was happier, more fullythankful and blissful than even in the girlish calm of her untroubledlife. Her prayer that she might come again in peace had been more thanfulfilled; nay, when she had seen her boys kneel meekly to receive heruncle’s blessing, it was in some sort to her as if the work was done, asif the millstone had been borne up for her, and had borne her and herdear ones with it.
But there was much to come. She knew full well that, even though hersons’ first step had been in the right direction, it was in a path besetwith difficulties; and how would her proud Ebbo meet them?
The Dove in the Eagle's Nest Page 14