appearance of the stranger, and watched, with much curiosity, for his mother's return.
'Ebbo mine,' she said, entering, after a long interval, 'the knight asks to see thee either after supper, or to- morrow morn.'
'Then a knight he is?'
'Yea, truly, a knight truly in every look and gesture, bearing his head like the leading stag of the herd, and yet right gracious.'
'Gracious to you, mother, in your own hall?' cried Ebbo, almost fiercely.
'Ah! jealous champion, thou couldst not take offence! It was the manner of one free and courteous to every one, and yet with an inherent loftiness that pervades all.'
'Gives he no name?' said Ebbo.
'He calls himself Ritter Theurdank, of the suite of the late Kaisar, but I should deem him wont rather to lead than to follow.'
'Theurdank,' repeated Eberhard, 'I know no such name! So, motherling, are you going to sup? I shall not sleep till I have seen him!'
'Hold, dear son.' She leant over him and spoke low. 'See him thou must, but let me first station Heinz and Koppel at the door with halberts, not within earshot, but thou art so entirely defenceless.'
She had the pleasure of seeing him laugh. 'Less defenceless than when the kinsman of Wildschloss here visited us, mother? I see for whom thou takest him, but let it be so; a spiritual knight would scarce wreak his vengeance on a wounded man in his bed. I will not have him insulted with precautions. If he has freely risked himself in my hands, I will as freely risk myself in his. Moreover, I thought he had won thy heart.'
'Reigned over it, rather,' said Christina. 'It is but the disguise that I suspect and mistrust. Bid me not leave thee alone with him, my son.'
'Nay, dear mother,' said Ebbo, 'the matters on which he is like to speak will brook no presence save our own, and even that will be hard enough to bear. So prop me more upright! So! And comb out these locks somewhat smoother. Thanks, mother. Now can he see whether he will choose Eberhard of Adlerstein for friend or foe.'
By the time supper was ended, the only light in the upper room came from the flickering flames of the fire of pine knots on the hearth. It glanced on the pale features and dark sad eyes of the young Baron, sad in spite of the eager look of scrutiny that he turned on the figure that entered at the door, and approached so quickly that the partial light only served to show the gloss of long fair hair, the glint of a jewelled belt, and the outline of a tall, well-knit, agile frame.
'Welcome, Herr Ritter,' he said; 'I am sorry we have been unable to give you a fitter reception.'
'No host could be more fully excused than you,' said the stranger, and Ebbo started at his voice. 'I fear you have suffered much, and still have much to suffer.'
'My sword wound is healing fast,' said Ebbo; 'it is the shot in my broken thigh that is so tedious and painful.'
'And I dare be sworn the leeches made it worse. I have hated all leeches ever since they kept me three days a prisoner in a 'pothecary's shop stinking with drugs. Why, I have cured myself with one pitcher of water of a raging fever, in their very despite! How did they serve thee, my poor boy?'
'They poured hot oil into the wound to remove the venom of the lead,' said Ebbo.
'Had it been my case the lead should have been in their own brains first, though that were scarce needed, the heavy-witted Hans Sausages. Why should there be more poison in lead than in steel? I have asked all my surgeons that question, nor ever had a reasonable answer. Greater havoc of warriors do they make than ever with the arquebus--ay, even when every lanzknecht bears one.'
'Alack!' Ebbo could not help exclaiming, 'where will be room for chivalry?'
'Talk not old world nonsense,' said Theurdank; 'chivalry is in the heart, not in the weapon. A youth beforehand enough with the world to be building bridges should know that, when all our troops are provided with such an arm, then will their platoons in serried ranks be as a solid wall breathing fire, and as impregnable as the lines of English archers with long bows, or the phalanx of Macedon. And, when each man bears a pistol instead of the misericorde, his life will be far more his own.'
Ebbo's face was in full light, and his visitor marked his contracted brow and trembling lip. 'Ah!' he said, 'thou hast had foul experience of these weapons.'
'Not mine own hurt,' said Ebbo; 'that was but fair chance of war.'
'I understand,' said the knight; 'it was the shot that severed the goodly bond that was so fair to see. Young man, none has grieved more truly than King Max.'
'And well he may,' said Ebbo. 'He has not lost merely one of his best servants, but all the better half of another.'
'There is still stuff enough left to make that ONE well worth having,' said Theurdank, kindly grasping his hand, 'though I would it were more substantial! How didst get old Wolfgang down, boy? He must have been a tough morsel for slight bones like these, even when better covered than now. Come, tell me all. I promised the Markgraf of Wurtemburg to look into the matter when I came to be guest at St. Ruprecht's cloister, and I have some small interest too with King Max.'
His kindliness and sympathy were more effectual with Ebbo than the desire to represent his case favourably, for he was still too wretched to care for policy; but he answered Theurdank's questions readily, and explained how the idea of the bridge had originated in the vigil beside the broken waggons.
'I hope,' said Theurdank, 'the merchants made up thy share? These overthrown goods are a seignorial right of one or other of you lords of the bank.'
'True, Herr Ritter; but we deemed it unknightly to snatch at what travellers lost by misfortune.'
'Freiherr Eberhard, take my word for it, while thou thus holdest, all the arquebuses yet to be cut out of the Black Forest will not mar thy chivalry. Where didst get these ways of thinking?'
'My brother was a very St. Sebastian! My mother--'
'Ah! her sweet wise face would have shown it, even had not poor Kasimir of Adlerstein raved of her. Ah! lad, thou hast crossed a case of true love there! Canst not brook even such a gallant stepfather?'
'I may not,' said Ebbo, with spirit; 'for with his last breath Schlangenwald owned that my own father died not at the hostel, but may now be alive as a Turkish slave.'
'The devil!' burst out Theurdank. 'Well! that might have been a pretty mess! A Turkish slave, saidst thou! What year chanced all this matter--thy grandfather's murder and all the rest?'
'The year before my birth,' said Ebbo. 'It was in the September of 1475.'
'Ha!' muttered Theurdank, musing to himself; 'that was the year the dotard Schenk got his overthrow at the fight of Rain on Sare from the Moslem. Some composition was made by them, and old Wolfgang was not unlikely to have been the go-between. So! Say on, young knight,' he added, 'let us to the matter in hand. How rose the strife that kept back two troops from our--from the banner of the empire?'
Ebbo proceeded with the narration, and concluded it just as the bell now belonging to the chapel began to toll for compline, and Theurdank prepared to obey its summons, first, however, asking if he should send any one to the patient. Ebbo thanked him, but said he needed no one till his mother should come after prayers.
'Nay, I told thee I had some leechcraft. Thou art weary, and must rest more entirely;'--and, giving him little choice, Theurdank supported him with one arm while removing the pillows that propped him, then laid him tenderly down, saying, 'Good night, and the saints bless thee, brave young knight. Sleep well, and recover in spite of the leeches. I cannot afford to lose both of you.'
Ebbo strove to follow mentally the services that were being performed in the chapel, and whose 'Amens' and louder notes pealed up to him, devoid of the clear young tones that had sung their last here below, but swelled by grand bass notes that as much distracted Ebbo's attention as the memory of his guest's conversation; and he impatiently awaited his mother's arrival.
At length, lamp in hand, she appeared with tears shining in her eyes, and bending over him said,
'He hath done honour to our blessed one, my Ebbo; he knelt by him, and crossed him with holy water, and when he led me from the chapel he told me any mother in Germany might envy me my two sons even now. Thou must love him now, Ebbo.'
'Love him as one loves one's loftiest model,' said Ebbo--'value the old castle the more for sheltering him.'
'Hath he made himself known to thee?'
