Debit and Credit Part 81

Both bowed low before the blind man, and left the room. "After all, there is honor in the man," said Fink, nodding as he went along. Then he opened the door and the officer rode up.

"The Baron Rothsattel thanks you for your proposal; but he is resolved to defend his house, and the property of those who have trusted to him, to the very utmost. We can not accept your offer."

"Take, then, the consequences," cried the officer, "and the responsibility of all that must ensue."

"I will take the responsibility," said Fink; "but I have still one request to make from you. Besides the wives and children of the country people, there are two ladies in the castle, the wife and daughter of the Baron Rothsattel; if an accident should enable you to occupy this house, I recommend these defenseless ones to the protection of your honor."

"I am a Pole!" cried the officer, proudly rising in his stirrups. Then taking off his hat, he galloped back to the farm-yard.

"He looks a bold fellow," said Fink, turning to the men who had gathered round him from the guard-room; "but, my friends, when one has the choice of trusting to an enemy's promises or to this little iron barrel, I always think it best to rely upon what we have in our hand."

He shook his rifle as he spoke.

"The Pole promises safe-conduct," continued Fink, "because he knows that in a couple of hours his band will be dispersed by our soldiers. We should be a good bite for him with our thirty guns. And then, if our cavalry came, and instead of us, who sent for them, found the house full of that rabble yonder, they would send a rattling curse after us, and we should be disgraced forever."

"I wonder whether he meant fair?" inquired one of the men, doubtingly.

Fink took him confidentially by the lappet of his coat. "I do believe, my boy, that he meant fair; but I ask you how far one could calculate upon the discipline of those men? We should not get much beyond the wood yonder before another party would overtake us, and the women and our property would be maltreated before our eyes; and so I calculate we shall do the best to show them our teeth."

Warm approbation followed this speech, and a few hurrahs were raised for the young gentlemen in the castle.

"We thank you," said Fink; "and now all of you to your posts, my men, for it may chance that you will get a few cracks on your heads again.

That will keep them quiet for an hour or two," said he, turning to Anton. "I don't expect an attack by day, but it is better for them to stand at their posts than to be putting their heads together. It was unlucky that they should have heard the negotiations."

But even the severe discipline which Fink maintained did not avail to ward off the depression which fell upon the little garrison as the day wore on. The Pole's proposal had been heard by many; even the women had in their curiosity opened their door and pushed into the hall. Quietly, gradually, fear began to take possession of the men's hearts, and, contagious as a disease, it spread from one to the other. It broke out, too, in the women's apartments. Suddenly some of them felt a great desire for water, complaining of thirst, first timidly, then louder, pressing against the door of the kitchen, and beginning to sob aloud.

Not long after, all the children took to screaming for water, and many who, under other circ.u.mstances, would not have thought about drinking at all, now felt themselves unspeakably wretched.

Anton had the last bottle of wine brought out of the cellar, cut the last loaf and soaked it in the wine, giving a piece to each, a.s.suring them that it was the best remedy against thirst, and that if one held it in the mouth, he would be quite unable to drink water, even if paid for it. This expedient answered for a time, but terror found other avenues by which to enter. Many began to consider whether they would have lost any thing in giving up an old gun, and gaining thereby their liberty, and the right to go where they would. This view of things was loudly combated by the forester, who placed himself in the midst of the guard-room, and resolutely replied: "I tell you, Gottlieb Fitzner, and you, you stout Bokel, that the giving away our guns would be a mere trifle to any of us; the only thing is, that any one of you to whom this vile thought could occur would be a low, mean, cowardly scoundrel, who would make me sick whenever I saw him." To which proposition Fitzner and Bokel eagerly acceded, and Bokel declared that, for his part, he could stand such a fellow just as little as the forester himself; so that danger was averted. But the unemployed sentinels were engaged in anxious conversation. The castle forces were contrasted with those of the enemy, and finally the slight nature of the palings in the yard became the leading object of a searching criticism. It was clear that the next attack would be directed against them, and the most stout-hearted admitted that they could offer little resistance. Even the faithful smith shook them with his strong hand, and by no means admired the manner in which they were nailed together.

In the middle of the day these attacks of timidity were not actually dangerous, for the greatest portion of the men were waiting ready armed for the enemy's approach. But as the sun began to decline without any attack, and without the sentinels on the top of the tower announcing any prospect of relief, inactivity and exhaustion combined to increase the universal distress. Their dinner had been unsatisfying: potatoes burnt to a cinder, and a little salt; no wonder that they should again begin to be thirsty, and that the women should return and complain to Anton that his expedient had only availed for a very short time. Among the men, too, fear, hunger, and thirst spread fast from one story to another. Anton had served out a double ration of brandy, but that did not avail. Several of the men became, not rebellious, but weaker and more depressed. Fink looked with contemptuous smile at these symptoms of a condition of which his elastic spirit and iron nerves had no experience; but Anton, to whom all came with pet.i.tions and laments, felt the whole distress of these hours. Something must be done to help efficiently, or all was lost. Accordingly, he went into the court-yard, determined to sacrifice the cow. He walked up to her, stroked her neck: "Lizzie, my poor beast, you must go," said he. As he led her out, his eye fell upon the empty water-b.u.t.t, and a happy thought flashed across him. The yard was only raised a few feet above the brook. The whole district was full of springs; it was probable that, if dug for here, water might be found, and it would be an easy thing for the garrison to dig a well. If the earth excavated were pushed up against the palings, their strength would be considerably increased, and, what was the chief thing, the work would set all idle hands going, and might last for hours, nay, days. He knew, indeed, from former attempts, that the water immediately about the castle was muddy, and in ordinary times undrinkable, but that did not signify to-day. Anton looked up at the sun; there was not a minute to be lost. He called the superintendent into the court, and the latter joyfully agreeing to the proposal--all the unoccupied hands about the castle, and the women and children too--the laborers' implements were produced, and in a few minutes ten men with spades and rakes were occupied in digging a large hole in the middle of the court, while the women and children heaped the thrown-up earth against the palings. Some men, and such of the women as were to be had, were summoned by Anton to the slaughter of the poor cow, who was once more exhibited before she fell a victim to the exigencies of the day. Soon all were in full employment. The well-mouth, which was far wider than would have been required for an ordinary shaft, deepened visibly, and a wall rose inside the palings, which seemed the work of friendly underground gnomes. The people worked as they had never in their life done before; the men's spades emulated each other; little bare legs sprang actively over the ground; wooden shoes and slippers left deep traces in the mound of earth. Each wanted to work; there were more hands than s.p.a.ce in which to move them. All sadness and anxiety were over and gone. Jests were bandied about. Even Fink came to look on, and said to Anton, "You are a missionary, and you know how to promote the spiritual good of your people."

"They work!" replied Anton, with greater cheerfulness than he had felt for the last four-and-twenty hours.

The well had now become so deep that it became necessary to have a ladder to descend by; the ground got damper and damper, till the men worked in a perfect swamp. The mud had to be taken out in buckets; but the people were more eager than ever, and the buckets flew from hand to hand, while all laughed like little children at the mud-sprinkling their impatience got. The mud wall rose rapidly above the palings, and wood and stones were thrown in to consolidate it. Anton could hardly get the little doorway kept open. Meanwhile there was restless agitation among the enemy. Hors.e.m.e.n rode rapidly along the line of sentries, and watched the progress of the new fortification: from time to time, one would venture nearer than the rest, then withdraw as soon as the forester raised his gun above the wall. Thus hour after hour pa.s.sed; the sun sank down, and the red light of evening suffused the sky. But those in the court-yard took no heed of it, for at the bottom of the well the men were standing up to their waists in water. It was a yellow, dirty liquid enough; but the people stared down the hole as though streams of gold were flowing there. At last, when the twilight shadows lay dark on its mouth, Anton ordered the diggers to leave the well. A coa.r.s.e sheet was brought, and laid over the water-b.u.t.t, and the water strained through it.

"My horses first," cried one of the servants, s.n.a.t.c.hing a bucketful for the thirsting animals.

"When it has settled a little, it will be as good as river-water,"

exclaimed the smith, in delight.

As for the diggers, they were never tired of tasting, and each triumphantly corroborated the worthy man's a.s.sertion. Meanwhile, Anton had fresh palings driven into the mud rampart, and the strong planks of the potato-carts securely fastened to them. At nightfall all was finished. The women kept straining water into the b.u.t.t. Great joints of meat were taken to the kitchen, where a brisk fire was crackling away, and the cheerful hopes of an excellent supper rose in the hearts of the besieged.

Then the drums of the enemy were again heard, and the shrill call of Fink's whistle vibrated through the castle. For a moment the men in the court-yard stood still; they had, during the last few hours, thought little about the foe; then all rushed into the guard-room and caught up their arms. The lower story was doubly occupied. The forester hurried off with a strong detachment to the court-yard, and clambered up the new wall.

"The crisis approaches," whispered Fink to Anton; "in the course of the last few hours strong parties have come into the village, and just now a troop of hors.e.m.e.n has joined them. We shall not be able to hold out for a second night. They will attack on both sides at once, and with the help of short ladders they will soon make their way into the castle. And that they know, for you may see that every band that leaves the village is armed with axes and ladders. Let us meet our inevitable doom with spirit; the praise is yours if we are beaten like men and not like cowards. I have been with the baron; he and the ladies are prepared; they will all remain together in his room. If you have a few words to spare when one of the Messieurs of the party walks in over you, remind him of the ladies. G.o.d willing, Anton, I'll take the court-yard side--you the front."

"It seems to me impossible," cried Anton, "that we should be beaten. I have never had so good a hope as in this very hour."

"Hope of relief!" said Fink, shrugging his shoulders, and pointing through the window at the enemy. "If it comes in an hour's time it comes too late. Since Rebecca's cannon exploded, we are in the hands of the foe as soon as they choose to storm in earnest. And they will choose.

One must not indulge in illusions that glow no longer than a cigar. Give me your hand, my dear fellow, and farewell."

He pressed Anton's hand, and a proud smile beamed again over his face.

So stood the friends, each looking affectionately at the face of the other, uncertain whether he should ever behold it again. "Farewell!"

cried Fink, taking up his rifle as their hands parted; but all at once he seemed rooted to the ground, and intently listened, for above the drums of the foe and the tramp of their approach a clear sound rang through the night air, a merry pealing fanfare, and in reply to it there came from the village the regular beat of a drum of the line, then a loud discharge of artillery, and a distant hurrah.

"They come!" was the cry on all sides; "our soldiers come!"

The forester rushed into the hall. "The red-caps!" he screamed out.

"They are riding up along the brook to the bridge, and the infantry are storming the village from behind."

"Now our side!" cried Fink; "prepare for a sally!"

The bolts were shot back; the whole garrison was out in a moment; and Anton could hardly get the superintendent and a few of the servants to return and take care of the house. The forester rapidly marshaled the men into order while Fink looked at the position of the combatants. The columns of infantry advanced through the village. The ceaseless discharges showed how inveterate the fight was; but the soldiery slowly approached, the enemy yielded, a few fugitives had already run out of the farm-yard. Meanwhile a detachment of hussars crossed the brook opposite the castle, driving small parties of the besiegers before them.

Fink led his men round the house, and stationed them at the corner that lay nearest to the village. "Patience!" cried he; "and when I lead you on, don't forget your pa.s.sword, or you will be ridden and trodden down in the dark like the others."

It was with the greatest difficulty that the men were kept in rank, such was their impatience.

A single horseman now came riding toward them. "Hurrah! Rothsattel!"

cried he, while still at a distance.

"Sturm!" called out a dozen voices; and Anton sprang forward to greet his ally.

"We have them," said Karl. "They had occupied the Rosmin high road, but I led our men by by-paths through the woods."

A dark ma.s.s was visible at the end of the village, with riders in advance. The enemy halted and a.s.sembled in the farm-yard.

"Now for it!" cried Fink.

The garrison marched at a quick pace over the meadow, placed themselves sideways near the first barn, and a salvo from five-and-twenty guns burst upon the flank of the enemy, who fell into confusion and fled across the plain. Again the trumpet sounded, behind them the hussars came galloping up, and cut down those that still kept their ground. Karl joined them, and vanished in the fray. The enemy were thus driven into the fields.

The Polish cavalry now sprang forward from the village, at their head the spokesman of the morning, who with loud shouts urged his men against the hussars.

"Rothsattel!" cried a youthful voice close to Anton, and, heading a detachment of hussars, a tall, slight officer rushed against the Poles.

Fink raised his rifle and aimed at the Polish colonel.

"Thanks!" cried he, reeling on his horse, firing his pistol with his last breath at the breast of the hussar who was riding him down. The hussar fell from his horse, and the Pole's charger galloped away with his master's lifeless body.

In a few minutes more the vicinity of the castle was cleared of all foes. Night concealed the fugitives, and the trees of the forest spread their sheltering branches over the sons of the soil. In small detachments, the conquerors followed the last remnant of the enemy's troops.

Before the castle, Anton knelt on the ground and supported the head of the prostrate horseman on his arm. With tears in his eyes, he looked from the dying man up to his friend, who stood on one side with a group of sympathizing officers. Their triumph was rendered a mute one, the peasants surrounding the spot in solemn silence. The motionless form was slowly carried on their crossed hands to the castle.

The baron stood on the hall steps with his daughter, ready to greet the welcome guests. As soon as Lenore saw the wounded officer, she rushed down among the bearers, by whom the body was silently laid at the baron's feet, and sank to the ground with a scream.

"Who is it?" groaned the blind man, groping in the air. No one answered him; all drew back in terror.

"Father!" murmured the wounded youth, and a stream of blood gushed from his mouth.

"My son! my son!" cried the baron, in agony, and his knees sank under him.