Ekkehard Volume Ii Part 20

"Come then."

He shook his head. "I prefer to submit and to suffer," said he.

"Don't be a fool," whispered Praxedis. "First you built your castle on the glittering rain-bow, and now that it has all tumbled down, you will allow them to illtreat you, into the bargain? As if _they_ had a right to drag you away and to flog you! And you will let them have the pleasure of witnessing your humiliation?... it would be a nice spectacle for them, to be sure! 'One does not see an honest man hung every day,' said a man to me once in Constantinople, when I asked him why he was running."

"Where should I go to?" asked Ekkehard.

"Neither to the Reichenau, nor to your monastery," said Praxedis.

"There is still many a hiding-place left in this world." She was getting impatient, and seizing Ekkehard by the hand, she dragged him on. "Forwards!" whispered she. He allowed himself to be led.

They slunk past the sleeping watchman; and now they stood in the courtyard, where the fountain was splashing merrily. Ekkehard bent over the spout, and took a long draught of the cool water.

"All is over now," said he. "And now away!"

It was a stormy night. "As the bridge is drawn up, you cannot go out by the doorway;" said Praxedis, "but you can get down between the rocks, on the eastern side. Our shepherd-boy has tried that path before."

They entered the little garden. A gust of wind was rocking the branches of the maple-tree, to and fro. Ekkehard felt as if he were in a dream.

He mounted the battlement. Steep and rugged the grey rocks sloped into the valley, that now looked like a dark yawning abyss. Black clouds were chasing each other, along the dusky sky; weird uncouth shapes, resembling two bears pursuing a winged dragon. After a while, the fantastic forms united into one shapeless ma.s.s, which the wind drifted onwards towards the Bodensee, that glittered faintly in the distance.

The whole landscape could only be seen in indistinct outlines.

"Blessings on your way," said Praxedis.

Ekkehard sat perfectly motionless on the battlement, still holding the Greek maiden's hand clasped in his. His lips could not express the feelings of grat.i.tude which pervaded his whole being. Suddenly he felt her cheek pressed against his, and a trembling kiss imprinted on his forehead, followed by a pearly tear. Softly, Praxedis then drew away her hand.

"Don't forget," said she, "that you still owe us a story. May G.o.d lead your steps back again to this place, some day, so that we may hear it from your own lips."

Ekkehard now let himself down. Waving one last farewell with his hand, he soon disappeared from her sight. The stillness of night was interrupted by a loud clatter and booming amongst the cliffs. A piece of rock had become loosened, and fell noisily down into the valley.

Another followed somewhat slower, and on this Ekkehard was sitting; guiding it as a rider does his horse. So he went down the sloping precipice, through the black night,--farewell!

She crossed herself, and went back, smiling through her tears. The lay-brother was still fast asleep. Whilst crossing the courtyard, Praxedis spied a basket filled with ashes, which she seized, and softly stealing back into Ekkehard's dungeon, she poured out its contents in the middle of the room, as if this were all that were left of the prisoner's earthly remains.

"Why dost thou snore so heavily, most reverend brother?" said she hurrying away.

CHAPTER XXII.

On the Wildkirchlein.

And now, much beloved reader, we must bid thee to gird thy loins, take thy staff in hand, and follow us up into the mountains. From the lowlands of the Bodensee, our tale now takes us over to the Helvetian Alps. There, the Santis stretches out grandly into the blue air,--when he does not prefer to don his cloud-cap,--smilingly looking down into the depths below, where the towns of men, shrivel up to the size of ant-hills. All around him, there is a company of fine, stalwart fellows, made of the same metal, and there, they put their bold heads together, and jestingly blow misty veils into each other's faces. Over their glaciers and ravines, a mighty roaring and rustling is heard at times; and that, which they whispered to each other, respecting the ways and doings of mankind, had already a somewhat contemptuous tinge, a thousand years ago,--and since then, it has not become much better I fear.

About ten days after the monks of the Reichenau had found nothing but a heap of ashes instead of their prisoner, in the castle-dungeon, and had debated a good deal, whether the Devil had burnt him up at midnight, or whether he had escaped,--a man was walking up the hills, along the white foaming Sitter, over luxuriant meadow-lands, interspersed with rocks.

He wore a mantle made of wolves' skins over his monkish garb; a leathern pouch at his side, and he carried a spear in his right hand.

Often, he pushed the iron point into the ground, and leaned on the b.u.t.t end, using the weapon thus, as a mountain-stick.

Round about, there was perfect silence and solitude. Long stretches of mist were hovering over the wild valley, where the Sitter comes out of the Seealpsee; whilst at the side, a towering wall of rocks, fringed by scanty green plants, rose up towards heaven.

The mountain glens, which in the present days, are inhabited by a merry and numerous race of herdsmen, were then but scantily peopled. Only the cell of the Abbot of St. Gall stood there in the valley; surrounded by a few small, humble cottages.

After the b.l.o.o.d.y battle of Zulpich, a handful of liberty-loving Allemannic men, who could not learn to bend their necks to the Franconian yoke had settled down in that wilderness. Their descendants were still living there, in scattered, shingle-covered houses, and in summer they drove their herds up into the Alps. They were a race of strong and healthy mountaineers, who, untouched by the goings on in the world at large, enjoyed a simple free life, which they bequeathed to the following generations.

The path which was followed by our traveller, became steeper and rougher. He now stood before a steep overhanging wall of rocks. A heavy drop of water had fallen on his head from above; upon which he cast up a searching look, to see whether the grim canopy of stones, would yet delay falling down, till he had pa.s.sed by. Rocky walls, however, luckily can remain longer in an oblique position, than any structure made by human hands; so nothing fell down, but a second drop.

Leaning with his left hand on the stone wall, the man continued his way, which, however, became narrower with every step he took. The dark precipice at his side came nearer and nearer; a giddy depth yawning up at him, ... and now all trace of a pathway ceased altogether. Two mighty pine-trunks were laid over the abyss, serving as a bridge.

"It must be done," said the man, boldly stepping over it. Heaving a deep sigh of relief, when his feet touched ground again on the other side, he turned round to inspect the dangerous pa.s.sage, somewhat more at his leisure.

It was a narrow promontory, above and below which there was a steep, yellowish grey wall of rocks. In the depth below, scarcely visible, was the mountain-brook Sitter, like a silver band in the green valley, whilst the seagreen mirror of the Seealpsee, seemed to hide itself shyly between the dark fir-trees. Opposite, in their armour of ice and snow, there rose the host of mountain-giants; and the pen feels a shudder of delight pa.s.s through it, when called upon to write down their names. The long stretched bewildering Kamor; the tremendous walls of the Boghartenfirst; the Sigelsalp and Maarwiese, on whose battlements grows a luxurious vegetation, like moss on the roofs of old houses. Then, the mysterious keeper of the secret of the lake, the "old man," with his deeply furrowed stone-forehead, and h.o.a.ry head,--the chancellor and bosom-friend of the mighty Santis.

"Ye mountains and vales, praise the Lords!" exclaimed the wanderer, overwhelmed by the grandeur of the spectacle before him. Many hundreds of mountain-swallows fluttered out of the crevices between the rocks.

Their appearance was like a good omen for the lonely traveller.

He made some steps onwards. There, the wall of rocks had many a fissure, and he saw a twofold cavern. A simple cross, made of rudely carved wood, stood beside it. Stems of fir-trees, heaped up on one side, and interlaced with branches of the same, in the manner of a blockhouse, bore witness to its being a human habitation. Not a sound interrupted the stillness around.

The stranger knelt down before the cross, and prayed there a long while.

It was Ekkehard,--and the place where he knelt, was the "Wildkirchlein."

He had reached the valley in safety on his stone horse, after Praxedis had freed him. The next morning found him weary and exhausted at the door of old Moengal, at Radolfszell.

"Oh, that I had in the wilderness a lodging place of wayfaring men; that I might leave my people and go from them!" said he in the words of the prophet, after he had told the parish-priest all that had happened to him.

Then, the old man pointed over towards the Santis. "Thou art right,"

said Moengal. "The holy Gallus did the same. 'Into the wilderness will I go, and there shall I wait for Him, who will restore my soul's health.' Perhaps he would never have become a saint, if he had thought and acted differently. Try to conquer thy grief. When the eagle feels sick, and his eyes grow dim, then he rises heavenwards, as far as his wings will carry him. The nearness of the sun gives a new youth. Do thou the same. I know a bonny nook for thee to recover thy health in."

He then described the road to Ekkehard.

"Thou wilt find a man up there," continued he, "who has not seen much of the world for the last twenty years. His name is Gottshalk. Give him my greeting, and let us hope that G.o.d has forgiven him his trespa.s.ses."

The parish-priest did not say for what sin his old friend was doing penance up there. He had once been sent to Italy, when times were bad, to buy corn. When he came to Verona, he was well received by the quarrelsome bishop Ratherius, and he held his devotions in the venerable cathedral, where the remains of St. Anastasia lay unlocked in a golden shrine; and the church was deserted, and the Devil tempted Gottshalk to take a keepsake to Germany. So, he took as much of the saint's body as he could carry away under his habit; an arm, a foot and some spine-bones, and secretly departed with his spoil. But from that hour he had lost his inward peace. By day and night, the saint appeared to him in her torn and mutilated condition; walking with crutches and demanding back her arm and her foot. Over mountains and Alpine glens she followed him, and threateningly approached him even on the threshold of his own cloister. Then he threw away the stolen limbs, and fled half maddened to the heights of the Santis; there, to expiate his heavy sin in the hermit's cell which he erected for himself.

For two days old Moengal secreted his young friend in his cell, and then he rowed him across the lake during the night-time. "Don't go back to thy convent," said he when they were about to part company, "lest their t.i.ttle-tattle should be the ruin of thee. Jeers and derision are worse than punishment. 'Tis true that thou deservest some lecturing; but that must be done for thee, by the fresh mountain-breezes, which are better ent.i.tled to set thee right again, than thy fellow-monks."

A spear and a wolf's skin were his parting gifts to Ekkehard.

Shyly and stealthily he continued his journey at night-time, and it was with bitterness of heart that like a stranger he pa.s.sed his monastery, which still bore visible traces of the ravages of the Huns. Some windows were lighted up, and seemed to beckon to him; but he only hurried onwards the quicker. The Abbot's cell in the mountains, he also pa.s.sed by, without entering. He did not wish to be recognized by anyone belonging to the monastery.

... His prayers were ended now. Wistfully he gazed at the entrance of the cavern, waiting for Gottshalk the hermit's coming out to welcome the visitor. But n.o.body appeared; the cavern was empty.

_Sancta Anastasia ignosce raptori!_ Holy Anastasia, pardon thy ravisher! was written with juice from Alpine herbs on the bright-coloured rock. A stone trough caught up the water which came trickling through the crevices. It was so full that the water ran over.

Ekkehard entered the cell. Some earthen dishes stood beside an old stone-flag, which probably had served as a hearth. In a corner there lay a coa.r.s.e fishing-net, as well as a hammer and spade; a rusty hatchet and a quant.i.ty of cut pine-logs.

On some wooden boards was a sort of couch, consisting of straw and dry leaves, which looked rotten and decayed. Two rats, frightened by Ekkehard's entrance, ran to hide in a crevice.