Ekkehard Volume I Part 24

"My knowledge does not extend to such matters," sorrowfully replied Ekkehard.

The d.u.c.h.ess was excited. "Oh schoolmaster," cried she reproachfully, "why has Heaven not made you a warrior? Many things would be better then!"

Ekkehard, deeply hurt, turned to go. The words had entered his heart like an arrow, and remained there. The reproach had some truth in it, so it hurt him all the more.

"Ekkehard," called out Dame Hadwig, "you must not go. You are to serve the country with your knowledge, and what you do not know as yet, you may learn. I will send you to some one who is well versed in these matters. Will you undertake this mission for me?"

Ekkehard had turned round again. "I never have been unwilling to serve my mistress," said he.

"But then you must not be frightened, if he gives you but a rough and unfriendly reception. He has suffered many a wrong from past generations; and he does not know the present. Neither must you be shocked, if he should appear very old and fat to you."

He had listened attentively: "I do not quite understand you ..."

"Never mind," said the d.u.c.h.ess. "You are to go over to Sipplingen to-morrow; close to Ueberlingen, where the rocky sh.o.r.e shelves down into the lake. These caverns were made, in the olden times, to serve as hiding-places. When you see the smoke of a fire rising out of the hill, go to that spot. There you will find the person I want you to see; and you must then speak with him about the Huns."

"To whom is my mistress sending me?" enquired Ekkehard, eagerly.

"To the old man of the Heidenhohle," replied Dame Hadwig. "One does not know any other name for him hereabouts.--But stop," continued she, "I must give you the watchword, in case of his refusing you admittance."

She opened a cupboard, and searching about amongst her trinkets and other small things, took out a tiny slate, on which were scrawled a few letters. "That you are to say to him, besides giving him my kindest greetings."

Ekkehard looked at the slate. It contained only the two insignificant Latin words, "_neque enim!_"--nothing else.

"That has no meaning," said he.

"Never mind, the old man knows well, what it means for him."

Before c.o.c.kcrow the next morning, Ekkehard pa.s.sed out of the gate on the Hohentwiel, on horseback. The fresh morning air blew about his head, over which he now drew his hood. "Why has Heaven not made you a warrior; many things would be better then." These words of the d.u.c.h.ess accompanied him, like his own shadow. They were for him a spur to courageous resolutions. "When danger comes, she shall not find the schoolmaster, sitting behind his books," thought he.

His horse went on at a good pace. In a few hours, he rode over the woody hills, that separate the Untersee from the lake of Ueberlingen.

At the ducal tenement of Sernatingen, the blue mirror of the lake lay stretched out before his eyes. There he left his horse in the care of the steward, and continued the path leading along the sh.o.r.e, on foot.

At a projecting point, he stopped a while, to gaze at leisure at the fine view before him. The eye, here meeting with no obstacle, could glance over the waters to the distant Rhaetian Alps, which like a crystal wall, rise heavenwards; forming the background of the landscape.

Where the rocks of red sandstone steeply arise out of the lake, the path mounted upwards. Steps, hewn in the rocks, made the ascent easier.

Here and there, apertures serving as windows, broke the uniformity of the walls; indicating by their deep shadows, the places, where in the times of the Roman supremacy, unknown men, had dug these caverns as an asylum, in the same way as the catacombs.

The ascent was fatiguing enough. Now he had reached a level, only a few steps in circ.u.mference, on which young gra.s.s was growing. In front, there was an entrance into the rock, about the height of a man. Out of this, there now rushed, violently barking, a huge black dog, which stopping short about two paces from Ekkehard, held itself ready with teeth and fangs to fly at him; keeping its eyes steadily fixed on the monk, who could not move, without risk of the dog's attacking him. His position was certainly not an enviable one; retreat being impossible, and Ekkehard not carrying arms about him. So he remained immovable, facing his enemy; when at an opening, there appeared the head of a man, with grey hair, piercing eyes, and a reddish beard.

"Call back the dog!" cried Ekkehard.

A few moments afterwards, the grey-haired man appeared at the entrance, armed with a spear.

"Back, Mummolin!" cried he.

The huge animal reluctantly obeyed; and not until the old man had threatened it with his spear, did it retreat growling.

"Your dog ought to be killed, and hung up nine feet over your door, until it fell to pieces," said Ekkehard angrily. "It nearly made me fall over into the lake," turning round, and beholding the lake lying at his feet, from the perpendicular height.

"In the Heidenhohlen the common laws have no force," defiantly replied the old man. "With us, 'tis--keep off two steps, or we split your skull."

Ekkehard wanted to go on.

"Stop there," continued the stranger, barring the pa.s.sage with his spear. "Not so fast if you please. Where are you going to?"

"To the old man of the Heidenhohle."

"To the old man of the Heidenhohle?" angrily repeated the other. "Have you no more respectful term for that personage, you yellow-beaked cowl-bearer?"

"I know no other name," replied Ekkehard somewhat abashed. "My greeting is, _neque enim_."

"That sounds better," said the old man in a softer tone. "From whence do you come?"

"From the Hohentwiel. I am to tell you ..."

"Stop, I am not he whom you seek. I am merely his servant Rauching. I will announce you."

Considering the appearance of those barren, rocky walls and the black dog, this formality seemed somewhat out of place. Ekkehard was kept waiting some time. It was as if preparations for his reception were being made. At last Rauching made his reappearance. "Be pleased to enter." So they walked along a dark pa.s.sage that widened at the end, admitting them into a chamber, which had been hewn in the rocks by human hands, high and s.p.a.cious, with an arched ceiling. A rough panelling partly covered the walls. The openings for the windows were wide and airy; showing a piece of the lake and hills, like a picture in a frame. Some bright, warm sunbeams streamed in, lighting up the otherwise dark chamber. Here and there, traces of stone-benches were visible; while a high-backed chair, likewise of stone, and resembling a bishop's seat in old churches, stood beside the window. In it a figure was seated. It was a strange, human form, of mighty dimensions. The huge head rested heavily between the broad shoulders; forehead and cheeks were deeply furrowed. Round his temples were a few scanty white curls; whilst his mouth was almost entirely toothless,--signs which spoke of the wondrous age of the man. Round his shoulders hung a cloak of undecided colour, the back of which, hidden by the chair, was no doubt threadbare enough; the seams showing here and there, many a patch. He wore a pair of coa.r.s.e boots, and by his side lay an old hat, with a dusty old tr.i.m.m.i.n.g of fox's fur. In a niche in the wall, stood a chess-board with carved ivory pieces. A game seemed just to have been finished; the king mated by a knight, and two bishops ...

"Who comes to the forgotten one?" asked the old man, in a trembling voice. Then Ekkehard bowing his head before him, told his name, and who had sent him there.

"You have brought an evil watchword with you. Do people still speak of Luitward of Vercelli?"

"Whose soul be d.a.m.ned," added Rauching.

"I have never heard anything about him," said Ekkehard.

"Tell him, Rauching, who Luitward of Vercelli was. It would be a pity if he were to die in the memory of men."

"He was the greatest rascal, that ever the sun shone upon," was Rauching's reply.

"Tell him also, what is the meaning of _neque enim_."

"There is no grat.i.tude in this world; and of an Emperor's friends, even the best is a traitor."

"Even the best is a traitor," murmured the old man, lost in thought.

His eye now fell on the chessboard. "Ah yes," muttered he faintly, "checkmated, mated by bishops and knights" ... he clenched his fist, and made a movement as if to rise; then falling back with a deep sigh, he raised his shrivelled hand to his forehead, resting his heavy head on it.

"The headache" ... said he, "the cursed headache!"

"Mummolin!" cried Rauching.

With bounding steps the black dog came in; and on seeing the old man with bent-down head, he whiningly crept up to him, and licked his forehead. "'Tis well," said the old man, after a while, lifting himself up again.

"Are you ill?" kindly asked Ekkehard.

"Ill?" rejoined he,--"may be that it is a sort of illness! I have been visited by it such a long time, that it seems quite like an old acquaintance. Have you ever had the headache? I advise you, never to go out to battle, when you are attacked by a headache; and by no means to conclude a peace. It may cost you a realm, that headache ..."

"Could not some physician" ... began Ekkehard.