The Dove in the Eagle's Nest [105]
fire of youth, to begin building at once in spite of all gainsayers.
"Strife and blood will it cost," said Master Sorel, gravely.
"What can be had worth the having save at cost of strife and blood?" said Ebbo, with a glance of fire.
"Youth speaks of counting the cost. Little knows it what it saith," sighed Master Gottfried.
"Nay," returned the Rathsherr, "were it otherwise, who would have the heart for enterprise?"
So the young knights mounted, and had ridden about half the way in silence, when Ebbo exclaimed, "Friedel"--and as his brother started, "What art musing on?"
"What thou art thinking of," said Friedel, turning on him an eye that had not only something of the brightness but of the penetration of a sunbeam.
"I do not think thereon at all," said Ebbo, gloomily. "It is a figment of the old serpent to hinder us from snatching his prey from him."
"Nevertheless," said Friedel, "I cannot but remember that the Genoese merchant of old told us of a German noble sold by his foes to the Moors."
"Folly! That tale was too recent to concern my father."
"I did not think it did," said Friedel; "but mayhap that noble's family rest equally certain of his death."
"Pfui!" said Ebbo, hotly; "hast not heard fifty times how he died even in speaking, and how Heinz crossed his hands on his breast? What wouldst have more?"
"Hardly even that," said Friedel, slightly smiling.
"Tush!" hastily returned his brother, "I meant only by way of proof. Would an honest old fellow like Heinz be a deceiver?"
"Not wittingly. Yet I would fain ride to that hostel and make inquiries!"
"The traitor host met his deserts, and was broken on the wheel for murdering a pedlar a year ago," said Ebbo. "I would I knew where my father was buried, for then would I bring his corpse honourably back; but as to his being a living man, I will not have it spoken of to trouble my mother."
"To trouble her?" exclaimed Friedel.
"To trouble her," repeated Ebbo. "Long since hath passed the pang of his loss, and there is reason in what old Sorel says, that he must have been a rugged, untaught savage, with little in common with the gentle one, and that tender memory hath decked him out as he never could have been. Nay, Friedel, it is but sense. What could a man have been under the granddame's breeding?"
"It becomes not thee to say so!" returned Friedel. "Nay, he could learn to love our mother."
"One sign of grace, but doubtless she loved him the better for their having been so little together. Her heart is at peace, believing him in his grave; but let her imagine him in Schlangenwald's dungeon, or some Moorish galley, if thou likest it better, and how will her mild spirit be rent!"
"It might be so," said Friedel, thoughtfully. "It may be best to keep this secret from her till we have fuller certainty."
"Agreed then," said Ebbo, "unless the Wildschloss fellow should again molest us, when his answer is ready."
"Is this just towards my mother?" said Friedel.
"Just! What mean'st thou? Is it not our office and our dearest right to shield our mother from care? And is not her chief wish to be rid of the Wildschloss suit?"
Nevertheless Ebbo was moody all the way home, but when there he devoted himself in his most eager and winning way to his mother, telling her of Master Gottfried's woodcuts, and Hausfrau Johanna's rheumatism, and of all the news of the country, in especial that the Kaisar was at Lintz, very ill with a gangrene in his leg, said to have been caused by his habit of always kicking doors open, and that his doctors thought of amputation, a horrible idea in the fifteenth century. The young baron was evidently bent on proving that no one could make his mother so happy as he could; and he was not far wrong there.
Friedel, however, could not rest till he had followed Heinz to the stable, and speaking over the back of the old white mare, the only other survivor of the massacre, had asked him once more for the particulars, a tale he was never loth to tell; but when Friedel further demanded whether
"Strife and blood will it cost," said Master Sorel, gravely.
"What can be had worth the having save at cost of strife and blood?" said Ebbo, with a glance of fire.
"Youth speaks of counting the cost. Little knows it what it saith," sighed Master Gottfried.
"Nay," returned the Rathsherr, "were it otherwise, who would have the heart for enterprise?"
So the young knights mounted, and had ridden about half the way in silence, when Ebbo exclaimed, "Friedel"--and as his brother started, "What art musing on?"
"What thou art thinking of," said Friedel, turning on him an eye that had not only something of the brightness but of the penetration of a sunbeam.
"I do not think thereon at all," said Ebbo, gloomily. "It is a figment of the old serpent to hinder us from snatching his prey from him."
"Nevertheless," said Friedel, "I cannot but remember that the Genoese merchant of old told us of a German noble sold by his foes to the Moors."
"Folly! That tale was too recent to concern my father."
"I did not think it did," said Friedel; "but mayhap that noble's family rest equally certain of his death."
"Pfui!" said Ebbo, hotly; "hast not heard fifty times how he died even in speaking, and how Heinz crossed his hands on his breast? What wouldst have more?"
"Hardly even that," said Friedel, slightly smiling.
"Tush!" hastily returned his brother, "I meant only by way of proof. Would an honest old fellow like Heinz be a deceiver?"
"Not wittingly. Yet I would fain ride to that hostel and make inquiries!"
"The traitor host met his deserts, and was broken on the wheel for murdering a pedlar a year ago," said Ebbo. "I would I knew where my father was buried, for then would I bring his corpse honourably back; but as to his being a living man, I will not have it spoken of to trouble my mother."
"To trouble her?" exclaimed Friedel.
"To trouble her," repeated Ebbo. "Long since hath passed the pang of his loss, and there is reason in what old Sorel says, that he must have been a rugged, untaught savage, with little in common with the gentle one, and that tender memory hath decked him out as he never could have been. Nay, Friedel, it is but sense. What could a man have been under the granddame's breeding?"
"It becomes not thee to say so!" returned Friedel. "Nay, he could learn to love our mother."
"One sign of grace, but doubtless she loved him the better for their having been so little together. Her heart is at peace, believing him in his grave; but let her imagine him in Schlangenwald's dungeon, or some Moorish galley, if thou likest it better, and how will her mild spirit be rent!"
"It might be so," said Friedel, thoughtfully. "It may be best to keep this secret from her till we have fuller certainty."
"Agreed then," said Ebbo, "unless the Wildschloss fellow should again molest us, when his answer is ready."
"Is this just towards my mother?" said Friedel.
"Just! What mean'st thou? Is it not our office and our dearest right to shield our mother from care? And is not her chief wish to be rid of the Wildschloss suit?"
Nevertheless Ebbo was moody all the way home, but when there he devoted himself in his most eager and winning way to his mother, telling her of Master Gottfried's woodcuts, and Hausfrau Johanna's rheumatism, and of all the news of the country, in especial that the Kaisar was at Lintz, very ill with a gangrene in his leg, said to have been caused by his habit of always kicking doors open, and that his doctors thought of amputation, a horrible idea in the fifteenth century. The young baron was evidently bent on proving that no one could make his mother so happy as he could; and he was not far wrong there.
Friedel, however, could not rest till he had followed Heinz to the stable, and speaking over the back of the old white mare, the only other survivor of the massacre, had asked him once more for the particulars, a tale he was never loth to tell; but when Friedel further demanded whether