Top of the World Stories for Boys and Girls Part 13

Anton stood still. It would be dangerous to go over such a bridge without any kind of a railing to hold fast to; but he must deliver the letter. Just then he heard something whispering at his feet:

"Since you can't glide like me, and creep, Be wise; cross not the chasm deep."

It was the little lizard that came hurrying toward him with this warning.

"But how should I then get the message to Baron Rynkebryn?" said Anton.

He had already started across the bridge.

And now something came hopping along at his side. It was the squirrel with his red tail high in the air like a flag, and with wide-open eyes; and while he hopped about Anton's feet he chattered:

"Since you can't hop like me, and climb, That castle shun; be warned in time!"

"But how then should I attend to my errand?" Anton was now half-way across the bridge.

As he stood there, the dove came flying and floating on her wings above the abyss.

"Since you can't float and fly like me, Turn back, turn back and homeward flee,"

said the dove, flying near Anton's cheek.

"Yes, that I will do when once I have given the Baron his letter," said Anton, "but I don't turn back when I am half-way over the bridge, nor flee homeward until my errand is done."

So he proceeded. The thin branches in the loosely-made bridge creaked and bent under his feet. On both sides of him was the dizzy chasm. He had a queer pain in his heart and everything turned black before his eyes; but he pressed his hands against his breast where he had hidden the letter, kept his gaze straight ahead, and walked on with firm step.

There! Now he could draw a long breath, a sigh of relief; for he was at last safely across the frail bridge,--on the other side of the chasm, and under the castle wall.

At first he could see no opening in the wall; it stretched up as hard and impenetrable as the rock upon which it stood, but when Anton stole around it, he found a small door,--an iron door with many locks and fastenings. He picked up a stone and knocked hard on the door, but no one answered. Everything around him was still as death.

Suddenly he heard a strange rumbling sound, which he thought at first might be the echo of the thunder among the rocks; but no. The sound came from the hall where Baron Rynkebryn and his men sat and drank, and roared with laughter loud enough to make the castle tremble.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "TURN BACK, TURN BACK," SAID THE DOVE.--_Page 157_.]

Since no one seemed to hear Anton, he lost patience, took his gun which was still loaded and shot it off. He could hear the echoes answer from mountain to mountain and at last die away; but now there were signs of life in the castle. A man opened a shutter high up in the tower and called, "Who shoots under Falkensten Castle? Is it friend or foe?"

Anton put both hands to his mouth and shouted back, "A friend! A friend!

A messenger from the valley!" Then he heard the man slam the shutter to, come with a clatter down the stairs, trudge across the courtyard, and begin to rattle the locks and bolts of the iron door. At last the door opened slowly and a gruff-looking warrior stood before little Anton.

"What do you want?" asked the warrior. His voice sounded like a bear's.

"What have you to say to the Lord of Falkensten?"

"That I must tell to Baron Rynkebryn himself," answered Anton. "The message is to him and none other."

"Listen to the young sparrow that dares to come into the falcon's nest!"

said the warrior, but he opened the door just wide enough for Anton to slip in.

As the boy turned in the doorway, he caught sight of the chamois which stood on a stone beside the chasm, stretching its head forward.

"Yes, here I am!" called the chamois. "I will keep on the watch by the wall, so you will know where to find me!"

At that instant the heavy iron door clanged shut after Anton, and he was at last inside the walls of Falkensten. His steps echoed with a hollow sound in the small courtyard; and it was dark and damp as a cellar, inside the castle on the great winding stairs that led to the baronial hall. Little Anton felt his heart beating like a hammer and choking him, when the warrior opened the door to the hall and let him pa.s.s in.

At the end of a long oaken table sat Baron Rynkebryn and his retainers, drinking. Their eyes were bloodshot like those of an angry bull, and they laughed and shouted so that the high rafters shook. Little Anton squeezed himself into a corner near the door and stood, hat in hand, waiting until Rynkebryn should speak to him.

Long did he wait, for the Baron was wholly absorbed in his carousing.

The wine flowed over his beard; he sat with both arms leaning on the table and laughed till his bones rattled. Suddenly his eye fell upon Anton.

"Who is that little whipper-snapper shivering there by the door?" he asked, pointing with his big finger. So Anton had to go forward. He bowed many times as he crossed the room, each bow deeper than the last, and when he reached the Baron, he took the letter from his breast and presented it.

The Baron s.n.a.t.c.hed it from him and began to read it, Anton meanwhile standing still and looking out of the tower window. Never before had he seen so far out into the world. One mountain chain after another gleamed forth, lit by the sun; streams lay like narrow white ribbons in the valley; and the boundless sky arched over all, its big thunder-clouds looking like mountains above the other mountains. Anton forgot entirely where he was while gazing at all this glory; but he was awakened to reality by a roar from Rynkebryn.

"So this is the kind of message you bring me, is it?" he screamed, and he struck his fist on the table so violently that the wine bottles tumbled over, and the rich red wine ran in streams across the white cloth, like blood. "How dare you bring such a letter to the Lord of Falkensten?"

"How should I know what was in the letter?" asked Anton. He trembled like an aspen leaf. "I do not read the letters people trust me with."

"Oh, you don't, don't you?" roared Rynkebryn. He had first grown red as the wine he drank, but now he was as white as the table-cloth. "It might have been well for you if you had peeped into this letter. If you had, I think you would have turned back with it. Herein"--he shook the letter till it rattled--"herein those traitors of the valley renounce their allegiance to me; and he who goes on errands for traitors is a traitor himself and shall die a traitor's death. Do you understand that, you miserable little worm?"

Anton tried to speak, but could not get a word over his lips. He grew icy cold and shook as if he had the ague.

"But I shall revenge myself on that pack," shouted Rynkebryn. "I shall descend upon them like an overwhelming horror, like a thief in the night, and lay their land waste. Sure as death, before three nights have pa.s.sed there shall be neither stick nor stone left of their city in the valley."

"Shall I tell them that?" asked Anton, in a low, frightened voice.

"No, you can spare yourself the trouble!" shouted Rynkebryn, laughing.

"I shall say it to them myself with a drawn sword. No, my little friend,"--his eyes glared horribly, "you shall have a night's lodging at Falkensten. Your guest-chamber is ready. You shall march down to the castle prison, and there you can lie and amuse yourself guessing what death you are to die in the morning. Let me see. I must think of something very fine. I might, for instance, hit you with a club so that you broke in two like a piece of gla.s.s. That might be very amusing to see. Ha! ha! ha!"

Anton shuddered. He remembered that he had threatened the little lizard with this very treatment, and had had the same idea that it would be amusing to see.

"Or," continued the Baron, "I could crush you with one whack of my gun, so!--That would be very quickly done."

The icy shivers ran down Anton's back. Just this kind of terror that he was feeling must the squirrel have felt when Anton threatened him with the b.u.t.t of his gun.

"Or I could fasten you out on the castle wall, as one fastens a bird that has been shot upon a barn door. There you could hang as a warning to traitors, until you fell to pieces," growled Rynkebryn, stroking his beard.

Things turned black before Anton's eyes. "Oh!" he thought with anguish.

"This is just the way I threatened the dove, the innocent little creature!"

"Or I could chop your head off!" roared Rynkebryn, rushing toward Anton with clenched fists. "Then I could put your head on top of the tower where there is a glorious view. What a treat that would be for you!" All the men laughed so hard at this that they had to hold their sides.

But little Anton did not laugh. He stood there thinking, with deep remorse, how he had threatened to take the life of the harmless chamois, and put its horns over the door. "Oh, G.o.d be praised that I let it run!"

he thought; but just then Rynkebryn's men caught hold of him, tied him securely, hand and foot, with strong rope, and took him to the castle prison.

Dark and damp indeed was the prison cell. It had no windows except, high up in the wall, a little opening with strong iron bars across it. The men threw Anton on the floor and then went out, locking the door after them with so many locks that Anton knew he could never open that door, even if he had both his hands free.

There he lay, looking up at the barred window. The sunset glowed through it still, but faded little by little, and darkness came on. High in the sky the stars twinkled out, one after another. And Anton lay and thought that when their light was quenched again, his life was to be put out, as if it were but a spark. What made him most unhappy was the thought that he could not get a message to the city in the valley, so that some one might know that Rynkebryn, the next night, was going to creep upon them like a thief, burn their city and devastate their land.

He laid his head on the damp floor of the cell and began to cry. All at once he heard something rustle,--a queer little sound. He thought it might be a rat that would bite him, and drew his legs up close; but something small came creeping lightly over him right up to his cheek.

"Don't be afraid," it whispered. "It is only I, the little lizard you met on your way. I have hurried at your heels the whole time, until you disappeared through the castle door. But how have you brought yourself to this? You should have followed my advice and turned back in time,--you who can neither creep nor glide."

"Perhaps," sighed poor Anton. "But it is too late to think of that, and no one in the world can help me now."