The Dove in the Eagle's Nest [107]
and sending to Ulm to take three or four men-at-arms into their pay, so as to make up twenty lances as the contingent of Adlerstein. It was decided that Christina should spend the time of their absence at Ulm, whither her sons would escort her on their way to the camp. The last busy day was over, and in the summer evening Christina was sitting on the castle steps listening to Ebbo's eager talk of his plans of interesting his hero, the King of the Romans, in his bridge, and obtaining full recognition of his claim to the Debateable Strand, where the busy workmen could be seen far below.
Presently Ebbo, as usual when left to himself, grew restless for want of Friedel, and exclaiming, "The musing fit is on him!--he will stay all night at the tarn if I fetch him not," he set off in quest of him, passing through the hamlet to look for him in the chapel on his way.
Not finding Friedel there, he was, however, some way up towards the tarn, when he met his brother wearing the beamy yet awestruck look that he often brought from the mountain height, yet with a steadfast expression of resolute purpose on his face.
"Ah, dreamer!" said Ebbo, "I knew where to seek thee! Ever in the clouds!"
"Yes, I have been to the tarn," said Friedel, throwing his arm round his brother's neck in their boyish fashion. "It has been very dear to me, and I longed to see its gray depths once more."
"Once! Yea manifold times shalt thou see them," said Ebbo. "Schleiermacher tells me that these are no Janissaries, but a mere miscreant horde, even by whom glory can scarce be gained, and no peril at all."
"I know not," said Friedel, "but it is to me as if I were taking my leave of all these purple hollows and heaven-lighted peaks cleaving the sky. All the more, Ebbo, since I have made up my mind to a resolution."
"Nay, none of the old monkish fancies," cried Ebbo, "against them thou art sworn, so long as I am true knight."
"No, it is not the monkish fancy, but I am convinced that it is my duty to strive to ascertain my father's fate. Hold, I say not that it is thine. Thou hast thy charge here--"
"Looking for a dead man," growled Ebbo; "a proper quest!"
"Not so," returned Friedel. "At the camp it will surely be possible to learn, through either Schlangenwald or his men, how it went with my father. Men say that his surviving son, the Teutonic knight, is of very different mould. He might bring something to light. Were it proved to be as the Schneiderlein avers, then would our conscience be at rest; but, if he were in Schlangenwald's dungeon--"
"Folly! Impossible!"
"Yet men have pined eighteen years in dark vaults," said Friedel; "and, when I think that so may he have wasted for the whole of our lives that have been so free and joyous on his own mountain, it irks me to bound on the heather or gaze at the stars."
"If the serpent hath dared," cried Ebbo, "though it is mere folly to think of it, we would summon the League and have his castle about his ears! Not that I believe it."
"Scarce do I," said Friedel; "but there haunts me evermore the description of the kindly German chained between the decks of the Corsair's galley. Once and again have I dreamt thereof. And, Ebbo, recollect the prediction that so fretted thee. Might not yon dark- cheeked woman have had some knowledge of the East and its captives?"
Ebbo started, but resumed his former tone. "So thou wouldst begin thine errantry like Sir Hildebert and Sir Hildebrand in the 'Rose garden'? Have a care. Such quests end in mortal conflict between the unknown father and son."
"I should know him," said Friedel, enthusiastically, "or, at least, he would know my mother's son in me; and, could I no otherwise ransom him, I would ply the oar in his stead."
"A fine exchange for my mother and me," gloomily laughed Ebbo, "to lose thee, my sublimated self, for a rude, savage lord, who would straightway undo all our work, and rate and misuse our sweet mother for being more civilized than himself."
"Shame, Ebbo!" cried Friedel, "or art thou but in jest?"
Presently Ebbo, as usual when left to himself, grew restless for want of Friedel, and exclaiming, "The musing fit is on him!--he will stay all night at the tarn if I fetch him not," he set off in quest of him, passing through the hamlet to look for him in the chapel on his way.
Not finding Friedel there, he was, however, some way up towards the tarn, when he met his brother wearing the beamy yet awestruck look that he often brought from the mountain height, yet with a steadfast expression of resolute purpose on his face.
"Ah, dreamer!" said Ebbo, "I knew where to seek thee! Ever in the clouds!"
"Yes, I have been to the tarn," said Friedel, throwing his arm round his brother's neck in their boyish fashion. "It has been very dear to me, and I longed to see its gray depths once more."
"Once! Yea manifold times shalt thou see them," said Ebbo. "Schleiermacher tells me that these are no Janissaries, but a mere miscreant horde, even by whom glory can scarce be gained, and no peril at all."
"I know not," said Friedel, "but it is to me as if I were taking my leave of all these purple hollows and heaven-lighted peaks cleaving the sky. All the more, Ebbo, since I have made up my mind to a resolution."
"Nay, none of the old monkish fancies," cried Ebbo, "against them thou art sworn, so long as I am true knight."
"No, it is not the monkish fancy, but I am convinced that it is my duty to strive to ascertain my father's fate. Hold, I say not that it is thine. Thou hast thy charge here--"
"Looking for a dead man," growled Ebbo; "a proper quest!"
"Not so," returned Friedel. "At the camp it will surely be possible to learn, through either Schlangenwald or his men, how it went with my father. Men say that his surviving son, the Teutonic knight, is of very different mould. He might bring something to light. Were it proved to be as the Schneiderlein avers, then would our conscience be at rest; but, if he were in Schlangenwald's dungeon--"
"Folly! Impossible!"
"Yet men have pined eighteen years in dark vaults," said Friedel; "and, when I think that so may he have wasted for the whole of our lives that have been so free and joyous on his own mountain, it irks me to bound on the heather or gaze at the stars."
"If the serpent hath dared," cried Ebbo, "though it is mere folly to think of it, we would summon the League and have his castle about his ears! Not that I believe it."
"Scarce do I," said Friedel; "but there haunts me evermore the description of the kindly German chained between the decks of the Corsair's galley. Once and again have I dreamt thereof. And, Ebbo, recollect the prediction that so fretted thee. Might not yon dark- cheeked woman have had some knowledge of the East and its captives?"
Ebbo started, but resumed his former tone. "So thou wouldst begin thine errantry like Sir Hildebert and Sir Hildebrand in the 'Rose garden'? Have a care. Such quests end in mortal conflict between the unknown father and son."
"I should know him," said Friedel, enthusiastically, "or, at least, he would know my mother's son in me; and, could I no otherwise ransom him, I would ply the oar in his stead."
"A fine exchange for my mother and me," gloomily laughed Ebbo, "to lose thee, my sublimated self, for a rude, savage lord, who would straightway undo all our work, and rate and misuse our sweet mother for being more civilized than himself."
"Shame, Ebbo!" cried Friedel, "or art thou but in jest?"