"Allow me," said Ekkehard, "I will drink to the health of Marcellus the teacher at the cloister-school, and the learned author of the Irish translation of Priscia.n.u.s."

"Very well," laughed Moengal. "But with regard to the Irish translation, I am afraid that there is a hitch in the matter!"[7]

Ekkehard was very anxious to reach his destination, for anybody who is close to the end of his journey, is loth to tarry long. "The mountain stands fast enough," said Moengal, "that won't run away, you may be sure."

But Moengal's wine, and his ideas of fresh air, had nothing very tempting for him, who was about to go to a d.u.c.h.ess. So he rose from his seat.

"I will accompany you to the borders of my district," said the priest, "for to-day you may still walk by my side, in spite of my torn and faded garments; but when you are once settled down on yonder mountain, you will believe yourself transfigured, and that you have become a grand lord; and on the day that you will pa.s.s Radolfszell on horseback, and will behold old Moengal standing on the threshold, then perhaps, you will hardly deign to wave your hand to him,--that is the way of the world. When the 'heuerling' has become big, then it is called 'felchen,' and devours the small ones of its own race."

"It is not fair that you should speak thus," said Ekkehard, kissing his Irish brother.

Then they set out together, Moengal taking his lime-twigs with him, therewith to ensnare birds on his return. It was a long distance through the pine-wood, and no sound was stirring.

Where the trees were less crowded together, they could see the dark ma.s.s of the Hohentwiel, throwing its shadow over them. Moengal's sharp eyes now looked searchingly along the path, and shaking his head he muttered: "there's something coming."

They had proceeded a short way, when Moengal seized his companion's arm, and pointing forward, he said: "these are neither wild ducks nor animals of the forest!"

At the same moment was heard a sound like the neighing of a horse in the distance. Moengal sprang aside, glided through the trees, and lying down on the ground, listened intently.

"Sportsman's folly," muttered Ekkehard to himself, quietly waiting till Moengal came back and enquired: "brother, do you know whether St.

Gallus is at war with any of the mighty ones in the land?"

"No."

"Then may be that you have offended some one?"

"No."

"Strange," said the old man, "for three armed men are coming towards us."

"Most likely they are messengers sent by the d.u.c.h.ess, to receive me,"

said Ekkehard, with a proud smile.

"Oho!" muttered Moengal, "you've not hit the mark there. That is not the livery of the d.u.c.h.ess's va.s.sals. The helmet has no distinguishing mark, and no one on the Hohentwiel wears a grey mantle!"

He stood still now.

"Forwards," said Ekkehard. "He whose conscience is clear, is protected by the angels of the Lord."

"Not always, at least in the Hegau," replied the old man. There was no more time for continuing the dialogue, for the tramp of horses' feet, and the clattering of arms was heard, and the next moment, three men on horseback, with closed visors and drawn swords, became visible.

"Follow me!" cried the priest, "_naturate fugam!_" He threw his lime-twigs on the ground, and tried to drag Ekkehard along with him, but when he resisted, Moengal sprang into the bushes alone. The thorns added new rents to the old ones in his well worn garments, but this he heeded not, and tearing himself free, he escaped into the thicket, with the agility of a squirrel. He knew the tricks!

"It is he!" called out one of the riders; upon which the others jumped out of their saddles. Ekkehard stood proudly waiting for them. "What do you want?"--no answer. Then he seized the crucifix suspended from his girdle, and was just beginning with "in the name of our Saviour" ...

when he was already thrown on the ground. Rough, strong hands held him as in a vice; a cord was twisted round his arms, which were then tied behind his back; a white handkerchief bound over his eyes, so that he could see nothing, and then the command "forwards" was given.

Surprise and consternation at this strange treatment had quite paralysed him, so that he advanced with tottering steps, upon which they took him up, and carried him to the opening of the wood, where four men were waiting with a sedan-chair.

Into this, they threw their victim and then the train sped onwards; Ekkehard noticing by the tramp of the horses' feet, that his captors remained at his side.

Whilst Moengal was fleeing through the wood, the blackbirds and linnets flew about so confidingly from bough to bough; and the thrushes' clear notes sounded so tempting, that he forgot all danger, and his heart upbraided him, for having dropped the lime-twigs.

When even the quail now sang out its "Quakkera! quakkera!"--it sounded downright provoking, and he turned his steps back towards the spot, where he had left his companion. Everything was quiet there, as if nothing had happened. In the distance he could see the sun shining on the helmets of the departing knights.

"Many that are first, shall be last," said he, shaking his head, and bending down to pick up his lime-twigs. "He expected to go to a princess's castle, and a prison opens to receive him. Holy Gallus, pray for us!"

Further reflections did not trouble Moengal's brains. Such deeds of violence were as plentiful as primroses in spring-time.

Once a fish swam about in the Bodensee, and could not understand, what the cormorant meant by coming down on it, and the black diver had already got it in its beak, and flew away with it, and the fish could still not understand it.

So it was with Ekkehard, lying with tied hands in the sedan-chair; for the more he reflected about this sudden change in his fate, the less could he comprehend it.

Now the idea rose dimly within him, that some friend or relation, of those messengers of the exchequer, might live in the Hegau, and revenge their death, on the innocent disciple of St. Gallus; for Solomon who had occasioned their shameful execution, had once been Abbot of St.

Gall. In that case, Ekkehard had to prepare himself for the worst; as he well knew, that neither tonsure, nor monk's habit would be any protection, against having his eyes burnt out, or hands cut off, if it was a question of revenge.

He thought of dying. With his conscience he was at peace, and death itself had no terror for him; but yet in his heart there arose the faint murmur; "why not a year later, after my foot had been set on the Hohentwiel?"

Now his bearers were moving more slowly, as they were walking uphill.

Into which of their robbers' nests, were they carrying him? They had ascended for about half an hour, when the tramp of the horses' feet made a hollow sound, as if they were going over a wooden bridge. Still everything was quiet; there was no call even of the watchman on the tower. The decisive moment was close at hand, and Ekkehard now felt new courage and confidence rising within his heart, as he remembered the words of the psalmist:

"He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

"I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my G.o.d; in Him will I trust."

Another bridge was crossed, then a gate opened and the sedan-chair was put down; after which they took out their prisoner. His foot touched the ground; he felt gra.s.s, and heard a faint whispering, as if there were many people around him. At the same time the cords were loosened.

"Take away the bandage from your eyes," said one of his companions. He obeyed, and--oh heart, do not break with too much happiness!--he stood in the court-yard on the Hohentwiel.

The wind was rustling in the boughs of the old linden-tree, to which a tent-like linen cloth was fastened, from which garlands of ivy and vine-leaves were hanging. All the inhabitants of the fortress were a.s.sembled, and on a stone bench in the midst, sat the d.u.c.h.ess. From her shoulders the princely mantle of dark purple descended in heavy folds; a sweet smile softened her haughty features, and now the stately figure rose, and advanced towards Ekkehard.

"Welcome to Hadwig's domains!"

Ekkehard had as yet scarcely realized his position. He was about to kneel down before her, but she prevented him, by graciously extending her hand to him. Throwing aside his grey mantle, the chamberlain Spazzo, now likewise came forwards, and embraced Ekkehard like an old friend.

"In the name of our gracious mistress, please to receive the kiss of peace."

A faint suspicion that he was being played with, crossed Ekkehard's mind; but the d.u.c.h.ess now called out laughingly: "You have been paid in your own coin. As you did not allow the d.u.c.h.ess of Suabia, to cross the threshold of St. Gallus otherwise, it was but fair that she also should have the man of St. Gall, carried through the gateway into her castle."

Master Spazzo again shook hands with him, and said: "I hope you're not angry; we were but acting up to our mistress's commands!"--He had first headed the attack, and was now helping to welcome Ekkehard, doing both with the same pompous air, for a chamberlain must be flexible, and even know how to reconcile contradictions.

Ekkehard smiled. "For a mere jest, you have acted your part very seriously." He remembered how one of the riders had given him a good thrust between the ribs, with the b.u.t.t-end of his lance, when they threw him into the sedan-chair. This had certainly not been the d.u.c.h.ess's order; but the lancer had once been present, when Luitfried the nephew of one of the exchequer's messengers, had thrown down the Bishop Solomon; and from that time had kept the erroneous notion, that a good blow or kick, was absolutely necessary to throw down anybody belonging to the church.

Dame Hadwig now took her guest by the hand and showed him her airy castle with its beautiful view of the Bodensee, and the distant mountain peaks. Then all the people belonging to the castle, came and asked for his blessing; amongst them also the lancers; and he blessed them all.--

The d.u.c.h.ess accompanied him to the entrance of his chamber, where new clothes and other comforts awaited him; there she told him to rest himself from the fatigues of the journey; and Ekkehard felt happy and light-hearted, after his strange adventure.

The following night, it occurred in the monastery of St. Gall, that Romeias the gate-keeper, without any reason started up from his couch, and fiercely blew his horn; so that the dogs barked loudly, and everybody awoke. Yet there was no one asking admittance. The Abbot concluded, that it was the doing of evil spirits; but at the same time, ordered Romeias's evening drink, to be reduced to one half, for six days;--a measure which was based however on very wrong suppositions.