Ekkehard Volume I Part 30

Tighter and tighter he pressed the Hunnic maiden's waist, and who knows what might still have happened, if she had not, with heightened colour and panting bosom, finally stopt herself. Giving her partner a little parting slap in the face, she ran off to the chieftains, who with serious faces were looking on at the frolics.

The shouts were dying out now; the fumes of the wine being danced off.

So Ellak gave the order to burn the dead. In a moment's time, the whole troop were seated on horseback, and riding in closed ranks to the funeral-pile. The horses of the two deceased men, were then stabbed by the eldest amongst the Huns, and laid beside their late masters bodies.

Calling out some monstrous conjurations, he lifted the firebrand and lighted the pile. Boethius' "comfort of Philosophy," pinelogs, ma.n.u.scripts and corpses vied with each other, which could burn the brightest, and a mighty pillar of flames and smoke, rose up to the sky.

With wrestling, warlike exercises and races, the memory of the dead was celebrated. The sun had sunk far down in the west, and so the whole body of Huns entered the monastery, there to pa.s.s the night.--

It was on the Thursday before Easter, when all this happened on the island of Reichenau. The tidings of this invasion soon reached the fishermen's huts around Radolfszell. When Moengal, the parish-priest, held the early morning-service, he still counted six of his flock, but in the afternoon, there were only three; including himself.

Gloomily he sat in the little room in which he had once hospitably entertained Ekkehard, when the pillar of smoke from the Hunnic funeral-pile rose into the air. It was dense and black enough for him to suppose the whole monastery to be in flames, and the scent of burning came over the lake.

"Hihahoi!!" cried Moengal, "_jam proximus ardet Ucalegon_, already it is burning at neighbour Ucalogon's! Then it is time for me also to get ready. Out with ye now, my old Camb.u.t.ta!"

Camb.u.t.ta, however, was no serving maid, but a huge bludgeon, a real Irish shilelah, and Moengal's favourite weapon. The chalice and ciborium, he packed up and put into his leathern game-bag. This was all he possessed of gold or silver. Then he called his hounds, his hawk and two falcons together, and giving them all the meat and fish his pantry boasted, he said: "Children, eat as much as ever you can, so that nothing is left for those cursed plagues, when they come!"

The vat in the cellar, he knocked to pieces, so that the sparkling wine streamed forth. "Not a drop of wine shall the devils drink, in Moengal's house." Only the jug which contained the vinegar, was left in its place. On the fresh, delicious b.u.t.ter in the wooden tun, he emptied a basket full of ashes. His fishing-tackle and other sporting-utensils he buried in the ground; then he smashed the windows, and strewed the fragments about in the room. Some he even put into the c.h.i.n.ks of the floor, with the points turned upwards,--all in honour of the Huns! Hawk and falcons then received their liberty. "Farewell!" cried he, "and keep near, for soon you will get dead heathens to pick!"

So his house was put in order. Hanging the game-bag, as well as a Hibernian canteen, over his shoulders, with two spears in his hands, and Camb.u.t.ta fastened on his back,--thus old Moengal walked out of his parsonage, which had been his home for so many years; a valiant champion of the Lord!

He had already gone on a few paces through the smoke-darkened atmosphere, when he suddenly stopped short, saying: "Wait a bit, I have forgotten something."

So he quickly retraced his steps, murmuring: "The yellow-faced rascals shall at least find some written words of welcome."

Arrived at his door, he drew a piece of red chalk from his pocket, and therewith wrote in large Irish characters a few words on the grey sandstone slab over the portal. Later rains have washed them away, and n.o.body has ever read them, but no doubt it was a significant greeting, which old Moengal left behind him in Irish runes.--Quickening his pace, he then took the direction of the Hohentwiel.

CHAPTER XIV.

The Battle with the Huns.

Good Friday had come; but the anniversary of our Saviour's death, was not kept on the Hohentwiel this time, in the silent way which the prescriptions of the church require. By the arrival of old Moengal all doubts about the enemy's approach were dispersed. Late in the night a war-council was held, at which it was determined that they should go out to meet the Huns in open battle.

The sun rose drearily on that day; soon being hidden again in mist. A fierce gale was blowing over the land, chasing the clouds along, so that they sank down on the distant Bodensee, as if water and air were to mingle together. Now and then, a solitary sun-beam struggled through. It was the as yet undecided battle which Spring was waging against the powers of Winter. The men had already risen, and were preparing for a serious day's work.

In his closet, up in the watch-tower, Ekkehard was silently pacing up and down, his hands folded in prayer. A highly honourable commission had devolved on him. He was to preach a sermon to the united forces before they went out to battle, and so he was now praying for strength and inspiration, that his words might be like sparks, kindling the warlike flame in each breast. Suddenly the door opened, and in came the d.u.c.h.ess, unaccompanied by Praxedis. Over her morning-dress she had thrown an ample cloak, to protect herself against the cool air; perhaps also that she might not be recognized by the stranger guests, while going over to the watch-tower. A faint blush mantled on her cheeks, when she thus stood alone, opposite her youthful teacher.

"You are also going out to battle, to-day?" asked she.

"Yes, I go with the others," replied Ekkehard.

"I should despise you, if you had given me any other reply," said she, "and you have justly presumed, that for such an expedition, it would not be necessary to ask my leave. But have you not thought of saying Good-bye?" added she, in low reproachful accents.

Ekkehard was embarra.s.sed. "There are many n.o.bler and better men leaving your castle to-day. The Abbots and knights will surround you;--how then could I think of taking a special leave of you, even if ..." his voice broke off.

The d.u.c.h.ess looked into his eyes. Neither said a word.

"I have brought you something which is to serve you in battle,"

said she after a while, drawing out a precious sword with a rich shoulder-belt, from under her mantle. A white agate adorned the hilt.

"It is the sword of Sir Burkhard, my late husband. Of all the arms he possessed, he valued this the most. 'With that blade one could split rocks, without breaking it,' he said many a time. You will wear it to-day with honour."

She held out the sword to him; Ekkehard received it in silence. His coat-of-mail he had already put on under his habit. Now he buckled on the shoulder-belt, and then seized the hilt with his right hand, as if the enemy were already facing him.

"I have got something else for you," continued Dame Hadwig. On a silk ribbon, she wore a golden locket round her neck. This she now drew forth. It was a crystal, covering an insignificant looking splinter of wood.

"If my prayers should not suffice, then this relic will protect you. It is a splinter of the holy cross, which the Empress Helena discovered.

Wherever this relic is, wrote the Greek patriarch who attested its genuineness, there will be peace, happiness and pure air.--May it now bring a blessing to you in the coming battle."

She leaned towards him, to hang the jewel round his neck. Quickly he bent his knees to receive it; but it had long been hanging round his neck, and still he knelt before her. She pa.s.sed her hand lightly over his curly hair, and there was a peculiarly soft and half sad expression on the usually haughty countenance.

Ekkehard had bent his knee at the name of the holy cross, but now he felt as if he must kneel down a second time before her, who was thus graciously thinking of him. A budding affection requires some time to understand itself clearly, and in matters of love, he had not learned to reckon and count, as in the verses of Virgil, or he might have guessed, that she who had taken him away from his quiet cloister-cell,--that she who on that evening on the Hohenkrahen, had looked on him so tenderly, and now again on the morning of battle, was standing before him, as Dame Hadwig was at that moment, might well have expected some words out of the depth of his heart,--perhaps even more than words only.

His thoughts quickly followed each other, and all his pulses were throbbing. When on former occasions anything like love had stirred his heart, then the reverence for his mistress had driven it back, nipping it in the bud, as the cold winds of March wither and blight the early spring-flowers. At this moment however, he was not thinking of that reverence, but rather how he had once carried the d.u.c.h.ess boldly over the cloister-yard. Neither did he think of his monastic vow, but he felt as if he must rush into her arms, and press her to his heart with a cry of delight. Sir Burkard's sword seemed to burn at his side.

"Throw aside all reserve, for only the bold will conquer the world."

Were not these words to be read in Dame Hadwig's eyes?

He stood up; strong, great and free,--she had never seen him look so before, ... but it lasted only a second. As yet not one sound betraying his inward struggle had escaped his lips, when his eye fell on the dark, ebony cross, which Vincentius had once hung up on the wall. "It is the day of the Lord, and thou shalt open thy lips to-day before his people,"--the remembrance of his duty drove away all other thoughts....

There once came a frost, on a bright summer-morning, and gra.s.s and leaves and blossoms became black and seared, before the sun rose over them....

Shyly as in former times, he took Dame Hadwig's hand. "How shall I thank my mistress?" said he in broken accents.

She cast a searching look at him. The soft expression had vanished, and the old sternness had returned to her brow, as if she meant to say: "if you don't know how, I am not going to tell you," but she said nothing.

Still Ekkehard held her hand in his. She drew it back.

"Be pious and brave," said she, turning to leave the chamber. It sounded like mockery....

Scarcely longer than a person needs to say the Lord's prayer, had the d.u.c.h.ess been with him, but far more had happened in that time, than he knew of.

He resumed his walk up and down his small abode. "Thou shalt deny thyself and follow the Lord," thus St. Benedict's rules began, and Ekkehard felt almost proud of the victory he had won; but Dame Hadwig had gone away with wounded feelings; and if a haughty mind believes itself to be disdained, evil days must follow.

It was the seventh hour of the morning, and in the court-yard on the Hohentwiel they were all attending divine service, before setting out.

The altar had been erected under the old linden-tree, and on it were placed the sacred relics, to comfort the hearts of all believers. The court-yard was entirely filled with armed men, standing in close, orderly groups, just as Simon Bardo had arranged them. Like the roll of distant thunder arose the introductory chaunts of the monks. The Abbot of Reichenau, wearing the black pall with the white cross, celebrated high-ma.s.s.

After him, Ekkehard mounted the altar-steps. With deep emotion his eye glided over the crowded a.s.sembly; once more the remembrance of how he had but a short while ago, stood face to face with the d.u.c.h.ess in the solitary chamber, pa.s.sed through his mind,--and then he read the gospel of the suffering and death of our Saviour. As he read on, his voice became always clearer and more distinct, and when he had finished, he first kissed the book and then handed it to the deacon, for him to put it back on its silk cushion. For a moment he looked up heavenwards, and then began his sermon.

The a.s.sembly listened to his words with breathless attention.

"Almost a thousand years have come and gone," cried he, "since the Son of G.o.d, bent his head on the cross, saying: 'it is finished!' but we have not yet prepared our souls to receive the redemption, for we have lived in sin, and the offences which we have committed through the hardness of our hearts, cry out against us, towards Heaven. Therefore a time of affliction has come upon us; glittering swords are raised against us; heathenish monsters have invaded the christian territories.

"But instead of angrily enquiring, 'how long will the Lord forbear, before He interferes and delivers our beloved homes from the hands of such heathenish idolaters,' let everybody strike his own bosom and say: on account of our sins this chastis.e.m.e.nt has been sent upon us. And if ye would be delivered from them, think of our Saviour's painful death, and as he took up his cross, bearing it himself to the place of skulls, seize the sword, and choose your own Golgotha!" ...

Pointing over to the sh.o.r.es of the lake, he poured out words of comfort and prophecy, strong and powerful, as the lion's call in the desert.

"The times are coming of which it has been written: 'And when the thousand years are expired, Satan shall be loosed out of his prison, and shall go out to deceive the nations, which are in the four quarters of the earth, Gog and Magog, to gather them together to battle: the number of whom is as the sand of the sea. And they went up, on the breadth of the earth, and compa.s.sed the camp of the saints about, and the beloved city: and fire came down from G.o.d, out of heaven, and devoured them. And the devil that deceived them, was cast into the lake of fire and brimstone, where the beast and the false prophet are, and shall be tormented day and night, for ever and ever.'[12]

"And all this, which the seer beheld and revealed at Patmos, is for us a promise of the victory that is to come, if we go out with purified hearts, to meet the enemy. Let them come, on their swift horses; what does it matter? The Lord has marked them as the children of the devil, therefore their face is but a mockery of the human countenance. They can destroy the harvest on our fields, and desecrate our altars, but they cannot resist the powerful arms of those, whom G.o.d himself has inspired. Therefore keep in mind, that we Suabians, must always be in the foremost ranks, when the fatherland has to be defended; and if in other times, it would be a dire sin in the eyes of the Lord, to buckle on the sword on His holy day,--to-day He will bless our weapons, and send down his saints to a.s.sist us, and fight Himself in our ranks; He the Lord of hosts, who sends down his destroying lightnings, and opens the bowels of earth itself, when the right time has come."