CHAPTER VIII.
[Audifax.]
In those times, there also lived on the Hohentwiel a boy, whose name was Audifax. He was the child of a bondsman, and had lost both his parents early in life. He had grown up like a wild mountain-ash, and the people did not care much about him. He belonged to the castle, as the house-leek did that grew on the roof; or the ivy which had fastened its tendrils to the walls. As he grew older he was entrusted with the care of the goats; and this office he fulfilled faithfully enough; driving them out and home again, every day. He was a shy and silent boy, with a pale face, and short-cut fair hair, for only the free-born were allowed to wear long waving locks.
In the spring, when trees and bushes put forth their new shoots, Audifax loved to sit in the open air; making himself pipes out of the young wood, and blowing thereon. It was a doleful, melancholy music, and Dame Hadwig had once stood on her balcony, listening to it for hours. Probably the plaintive notes of the pipe had suited her fancy that day; for when Audifax came home with his goats on the evening, she told him to ask a favour for himself; and he begged for a little bell for one of his favourite goats, called blackfoot. Blackfoot got the little bell, and from that time nothing particular had broken the monotonous routine of Audifax's life. But with increasing years he became shyer, and since the last spring he had even given up blowing on his pipe. It was now late in the autumn, but the sun was shining brightly still, and he was driving his goats as usual down the rocky mountain slope; and sitting on a rock, looked out into the distance. Through the dark fir-trees he could see the glittering surface of the Bodensee. All around, the trees were already wearing their autumnal colours, and the winds were playing merrily with the rustling red and yellow leaves on the ground. Heaving a deep sigh, Audifax after a while began to cry bitterly.
At that time, a little girl, whose name was Hadumoth, was minding the geese and ducks belonging to the castle poultry-yard. She was the daughter of an old maid-servant, and had never seen her father. This Hadumoth was a very good little girl, with bright red cheeks and blue eyes; and she wore her hair in two tresses falling down on her shoulders. The geese were kept in excellent order and training, and though they would stick out their long necks sometimes, and cackle like foolish women,--not one of them dared to disobey its mistress; and when she waved her hazel-wand, they all went quietly and decently along; refraining from useless noise. Often they picked their herbs in company with the goats of Audifax; for Hadumoth rather liked the short-haired goat-herd, and often sat beside him; and the two looked up together at the blue sky; and the animals soon found out the friendly feelings between their guardians, and consequently were friendly also.
At that moment Hadumoth was likewise coming down the hill with her geese, and on hearing the tinkling of the goat-bells, she looked about for the driver. Then she beheld him sitting on the stone, in his distress; and going up to him, sat down by his side and said: "Audifax, what makes thee cry?"
But the boy gave no answer. Then Hadumoth put her arm round his shoulders, drew his little smooth head towards her and said sorrowfully: "Audifax, if thou criest, I must cry also."
Then Audifax tried to dry his tears, saying: "Thou needest not cry, but I must. There is something within me, that makes me cry."
"What is in thee, tell me?" she urged him.
Then he took one of the stones, such as were lying about plentifully, and threw it on the other stones. The stone was thin and produced a ringing sound.
"Didst thou hear it?"
"Yes," replied Hadumoth, "it sounded just as usual."
"Hast thou also understood the sound?"
"No."
"Ah, but I understand it, and therefore I must cry," said Audifax. "It is now many weeks ago, that I sat in yonder valley on a rock. There it first came to me. I cannot tell thee how, but it must have come from the depths below; and since then, I feel as if my eyes and ears were quite changed, and in my hands I sometimes see glittering sparks. Whenever I walk over the fields, I hear it murmuring under my feet, as if there were some hidden spring; and when I stand by the rocks, I see the veins running through them; and down below, I hear a hammering and digging, and that must come from the dwarfs, of which my grandfather has told me many a time. And sometimes I even see a red glowing light, shining through the earth.... Hadumoth, I must find some great treasure, and because I cannot find it, therefore I cry."
Hadumoth made the sign of the cross, and then said: "Thou must have been bewitched somehow, Audifax. Perhaps thou hast slept after sunset on the ground, in the open air; and thus one of the goblins below, has got power over thee. Wait, I know something better than crying."
She ran up the hill, speedily returning with a small cup full of water, and a bit of soap, which Praxedis had once given her; as well as some straws. Then she made a good lather, and giving one of the straws to Audifax she said: "There, let us make soap-bubbles, as we used to do. Dost thou remember, when we made them last time, how they always grew bigger and more beautifully coloured; and how they flew down the valley, glittering like the rain-bow? And how we almost cried when they burst?"
Audifax had taken the straw without saying a word, and had blown a fine bubble, which fresh like a dew-drop was hanging at the end of the straw; and he held it up into the air to let the sun shine on it.
"Dost thou recollect, Audifax," continued the girl, "what thou saidst to me once, when we had used up all our soap-water, and it became night, with the stars all coming out?--'These are also soap-bubbles,' thou saidst, 'and the good God is sitting on a high mountain, blowing them, and he can do it better than we can.'" ...
"No, I do not remember that," said Audifax.
He hung down his head again, and began to cry afresh. "What must I do, to find the treasure?" sobbed he.
"Be sensible," said Hadumoth, "what wilt thou do with the treasure, if thou couldst find it?"
"I should buy my liberty, and thine also; and all the land from the Duchess; mountain and all; and I should have made for thee a golden crown, and for every goat a golden bell, and for myself a flute made of ebony and pure gold." ...
"Of pure gold," laughed Hadumoth. "Dost thou know, what gold looks like?"
Audifax pointed with his fingers to his lips. "Canst thou keep a secret?" She nodded in the affirmative. "Then promise me with your hand." She gave him her hand.
"Now I will show you, how pure gold looks," said the boy, diving into his breast-pocket, and pulling out a piece like a good-sized coin, but shaped like a cup. On it were engraven mystic, half-effaced characters. It glistened and shone brightly in the sun, and was really gold. Hadumoth balanced it on her forefinger.
"That I found in yonder field; far over there, after the thunderstorm," said Audifax. "Whenever the many-coloured rain-bow descends to us, there come two angels, who hold out a golden cup, so that its ends should not touch the rough and rain-drenched ground; and when it vanishes again, they leave their cups on the fields, as they cannot use them twice; for fear of offending the rain-bow."
Hadumoth began to believe that her companion was really destined to obtain some great treasure. "Audifax," said she, giving him back his rain-bow cup, "this will not help thee. He who wants to find a treasure, must know the spell. Down in the depth below, they keep a good watch over their treasures, and don't give up anything, unless they are forced to do it."
"Oh, yes, the spell!" said Audifax with tearful eyes. "If I only knew that!"
"Hast thou seen the holy man already?" asked Hadumoth.
"No."
"For some days a holy man has been in the castle, who is sure to know all spells. He has brought a great book with him, out of which he reads to the Duchess; in it is written everything; how one conquers all the spirits in air, earth, water and fire. The tall Friderun told the men-servants; and that the Duchess had made him come, to strengthen her power; and to make her remain for ever young and beautiful, and live to eternity."
"I will go to the holy man then," said Audifax
"They will beat you perhaps," warned Hadumoth.
"They will not beat me," replied he. "I know something which I will give him, if he tells me the spell."
Meanwhile the evening had set in. The two children arose from their stony seat; goats and geese were collected; and then, in well organized troops, like soldiers, were driven up the hill, and into their respective sheds. That same evening, Ekkehard read out to the Duchess, the end of the first book of the Æneid, which had been interrupted by Master Spazzo's untimely entrance.--How Dido greatly surprised by the hero's unexpected appearance, invites him as well as his companions into her hospitable halls;--and Dame Hadwig gave an approving nod, at the following words of Dido:
"I, by a similar fate, with many a sorrow acquainted, Wearily erring about, till I found a home in this country, Grief is no stranger to me, and has taught me to help the afflicted."
Then Æneas sends back Achates to the ships, that he might bring the good news to Ascanius; for on him was centred all the care and affection of his father. But Dame Venus, whose head is rife with new cunning, wishes to enflame Dido's heart with love for Æneas. So she removed Ascanius to the distant Idalian groves and gave his form to the God of love; who divesting himself of his wings, and imitating the carriage and gait of Ascanius, followed the Trojans sent to fetch him, and thus appeared before the queen in her palace at Carthago.
"Often she thus could be found, with her soul in her eyes, gazing at him, Then too, many a time, she presses him close to her bosom, Little knowing, poor queen, to what God she is giving a shelter. Bent on his mother's designs, in her heart he effaces the image Of Sichæus her spouse; then tries to rekindle her passions, Calling up feelings within her, which long had slumber'd forgotten."
"Stop a moment," said Dame Hadwig. "This part, I think, is again very poor, and weakly conceived."
"Poor, and weakly conceived?" asked Ekkehard.
"What need is there of Amor," she said. "Could it not happen without using cunning and deceit, and without his interference that the memory of her first husband could be effaced in the heart of a widow?"
"If a God himself made the mischief," said Ekkehard, "then queen Dido's behaviour is excused, or even justified;--that I believe is the intention of the poet." Ekkehard probably thought this a very clever remark, but the Duchess now rose, and pointedly said: "Oh that of course alters the matter! So she needed an excuse!--really that idea did not strike me! Good night."
Proudly she stepped through the chamber; her long flowing garments rustling reproachfully.
"'Tis strange," thought Ekkehard, "but to read Virgil with women, has certainly its difficulties." Further his reflections did not go ...
The following day he was going over the courtyard, when Audifax the goat-herd came to him; kissed the hem of his garment, and then looked up at him, with beseeching eyes.
"What dost thou want?" asked Ekkehard.
"I should like to know the spell," replied Audifax timidly.
"What spell?"
"To lift the treasure, out of the deeps."
"That spell I should like to know also," said Ekkehard laughing.
"Oh, you have got it, holy man," said the boy eagerly. "Have you not got the great book, out of which you read to the Duchess, in the evening?"
Ekkehard looked at him sharply. He became suspicious; remembering the way, in which he had come to the Hohentwiel. "Has anybody prompted thee,--thus to interrogate me?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
Then Audifax began to cry, and sobbed out, "Hadumoth."
Ekkehard did not understand him. "And who is Hadumoth?"
"The goose-girl," faltered the boy.
"Thou art a foolish boy, who ought to mind his business."
But Audifax did not go.
"You are not to give it me for nothing," said he. "I will show you something very pretty. There must be many treasures in the mountain. I know one, but it is not the right one; and I should so like to find the right one!"
Ekkehard's attention was roused. "Show me what thou knowest." Audifax pointed downwards; and Ekkehard going out of the court-yard followed him down the hill. On the back of the mountain, where one beholds the fir-clad Hohenstoffeln and Hohenhöwen, Audifax quitted the path, and went into the bushes, towards a high wall of grey rocks.
Audifax pushed aside the opposing branches, and tearing away the moss, showed him a yellow vein, as broad as a finger, running through the grey stone. The boy then managed to break off a bit of the yellow substance, which stuck in the chinks of the rock, like petrified drops. In the bright gold-coloured mass, small opal crystals, in reddish white globules, were scattered.
Closely examining it, Ekkehard looked at the detached piece, which was unknown to him. It was no precious stone; the learned men in later years, gave it the name of Natrolith.
"Do you see now, that I know something?" said Audifax.
"But what shall I do with it?" enquired Ekkehard.
"That you must know better than I. You can have them polished, and adorn your great books with them. Will you now give me the spell?"
Ekkehard could not help laughing at the boy. "Thou oughtest to become a miner," he said, turning to go.
But Audifax held him fast by his garment.
"No, you must first teach me something out of your book."
"What shall I teach you?"
"The most powerful charm."
An inclination to allow himself an innocent joke, now came into Ekkehard's serious mind. "Come along with me then, and thou shalt have the most powerful charm."
Joyfully Audifax went with him. Then Ekkehard laughingly told him the following words out of Virgil:
"Auri sacra fames, quid non mortalia cogis pectora?"
With stubborn patience, Audifax repeated the foreign words, over and over again, until he had fixed them in his memory.
"Please to write it down, that I may wear it on me," he now entreated.
Ekkehard wishing to complete the joke, wrote the words on a thin strip of parchment, and gave it to the boy; who gleefully hiding it in his breast-pocket, again kissed his garment, and then darted off; with innumerable mad gambols, outrivalling the merriest of his goats.
"This child holds Virgil in greater honour, than the Duchess," thought Ekkehard to himself.
At noon-tide Audifax was again sitting on his rock; but this time there were no tears glistening in his timid eyes. For the first time, after a long while, his pipe was taken out, and the wind carried its notes into the valley, where they reached his friend Hadumoth; who came over at once, and gaily asked him: "Shall we make soap-bubbles again?"
"I will make no more soap-bubbles," said Audifax, and resumed his pipe-blowing; but after a while, he looked about carefully, and then drawing Hadumoth quite close to him, he whispered in her ear, his eyes glistening strangely: "I have been to see the holy man. This night we will seek the treasure. Thou must go with me." Hadumoth readily promised.
In the servants' hall, the supper was finished; and now they all rose from their benches at the same time, and arranged themselves in a long file. At the bottom stood Audifax and Hadumoth, and it was the latter who used to say the prayers, before these rough, but well-meaning folks. Her voice was rather trembling this time.
Before the table had been cleared, two shadows glided out, by the yet unlocked gate. They belonged to Hadumoth and Audifax; the latter going on before. "The night will be cold," he said to his companion, throwing a long-haired goat's skin over her.
On the southern side where the mountain wall is steepest, there was an old rampart. Here Audifax stopped, as it afforded them a shelter against the keen night-wind of autumn. He stretched out his arm and said: "I think this must be the place. We have yet to wait a long time, till midnight."
Hadumoth said nothing. The two children sat down side by side. The moon had risen, and sent her trembling light, through airy, scattered cloudlets. In the castle some windows were lighted up; they were again reading out of their Virgil. Everything was quiet and motionless around; only at rare intervals, the hoarse shriek of an owl was heard. After a long while, Hadumoth timidly said: "How will it be, Audifax?"
"I don't know," was the answer. "Somebody will come and bring it; or the earth will open, and we must descend; or ..."
"Be quiet, I am frightened."
After another long interval, during which Hadumoth had slumbered peacefully, her head resting on Audifax's bosom,--the latter, rubbing his eyes hard, to drive away sleepiness, now awakened his companion.
"Hadumoth," said he, "the night is long, wilt thou not tell me something?"
"Something evil has come into my mind," replied she. "There was once a man, who went out in the early morning, at sunrise, to plough his field; and there he found the gold-dwarf, standing in a furrow and grinning at him, who spoke thus: 'take me with you. He who does not seek us, shall have us; but he who seeketh us, we strangle him ...' Audifax, I am so frightened."
"Give me thy hand," said Audifax, "and have courage."
The lights on the castle had all died out. The hollow bugle-notes of the watchman on the tower, announced midnight. Then Audifax knelt down, and Hadumoth, beside him. The former had taken off his wooden shoe from his right foot, so that the naked sole touched the dark earth. The parchment strip he held in his hand, and with a clear firm voice he pronounced the words, the meaning of which he did not understand,
"Auri sacra fames, quid non mortalia cogis pectora."
He remembered them well. And on their knees the two remained, waiting for that which was to come. But there came neither dwarf nor giant, and the ground did not open either. The stars over their heads, glittered coldly, and the chill night-air blew into their faces ... Yet a faith so strong and deep, as that of the two children, ought not to be laughed at, even if it cannot remove mountains, or bring up treasures from the deep.
Now a strange light was seen on the firmament. A shooting star, marking its way by a trailing line of light, fell down; followed by many others. "It is coming from above," whispered Audifax, convulsively pressing the little maiden to his side. "Auri sacra fames ..." he called out once more into the night. Then the golden lines crossed each other; and soon one meteor after another became extinguished, and everything in the sky, was again quiet as before.
Audifax looked with anxious eyes around; then he rose sorrowfully, and said in faltering tones: "'Tis nothing; they have fallen into the lake. They grudge us everything. We shall remain poor."
"Hast thou said the words, which the holy man gave thee, quite right?"
"Exactly so as he taught me."
"Then he has not told thee the right spell. Probably he wants to find the treasure for himself. Perhaps he has put a net in the place where the stars fell down ..."
"No, I don't believe that," said Audifax. "His face is mild and good, and his lips are not deceitful."
Hadumoth was thoughtful.
"Perhaps he does not know the right words?"
"Why not?"
"Because he has not got the right God. He prays to the new God. The old Gods were great and strong also."
Audifax pressed his fingers on the lips of his companion. "Be silent."
"I am no longer afraid," said Hadumoth. "I know someone else, who knows all about spells and charms."
"Who is it?"
Hadumoth pointed to a steep dark mountain, opposite. "The woman of the wood," replied she.
"The woman of the wood?" repeated Audifax aghast. "She, who made the great thunder-storm, when the hailstones fell as big as pigeon's eggs, into the fields; and who has eaten up the count of Hilzingen, who never returned home?"
"Just on account of that. We will ask her. The castle will still be closed for some hours, and the night is cold."
The little goose-girl had become bold and adventurous; for her sympathy with Audifax was great, and she wanted so much to help him to the fulfilment of his wishes. "Come," said she eagerly, "if thou art frightened in the dark wood, thou canst blow on thy pipe; and the birds will answer thee, for it will soon be dawn."
Audifax did not raise any further objection. So they walked on northwards, through the dark fir-wood. They both knew the path well. Not a human creature was stirring about; only an old fox, lying in ambush, for some rabbit or partridge, caught sight of them and was as little satisfied with their appearance, as they had been with the shooting stars.
Foxes also, have to bear their disappointments in life; therefore it drew in its tail, and hid itself in the bushes.
The two children had gone on for about an hour, when they reached the top of the Hohenkrähen. Hidden amongst trees, there stood a small stone hut, before which they stopped. "The dog is sure to bark," said Hadumoth. But no dog was heard. They approached nearer and saw that the door stood wide open.
"The woman of the wood is gone," they said. But on the high rock on the Hohenkrähen, a small fire was still faintly burning; and dark shadows could be seen gliding about it. Then the children crept along the steep path leading up to the rock.
The first gleam of the coming dawn, was already visible over the Bodensee. The path was very narrow, and a projecting piece of rock, over which a mighty oak-tree spread out its branches hid the fire from their view. There, Audifax and Hadumoth cowered down, and peeped round the corner. Then they saw, that some big animal had been killed. A head, apparently that of a horse, was nailed to the stem of the oak; and weapons as well as a quantity of bones, lay scattered about; while a vase filled with blood, stood beside the fire.
Around a roughly hewn piece of rock, serving as table, a number of men were sitting. On it, stood a big kettle of beer, out of which they filled and refilled their stone jugs.
At the foot of the oak, sat a woman, who was certainly not so lovely, as the Allemannic virgin Bissula; who inflamed the heart of the Roman statesman Ausonius, in spite of his age, to such a degree that he went about in his prefecture, spouting poetry in her praise: "her eyes are blue as the colour of the Heavens, and like gold is her wavy hair. Superior to all the dolls of Latium, is she, a child of the barbarians; and he who wants to paint her, must blend the rose with the lily."[[8]] The woman on the Hohenkrähen was old and haggard.
The men were looking at her; whilst the dawn was evidently spreading in the east. The mists hanging over the Bodensee, began to move, and now the sun was casting his first ray on the hills, burnishing their tops with gold. The fiery ball itself had just risen on the horizon, when the woman jumped up; the men following her example. She swung a bunch of mistletoe and fir-tree branches over her head, and then dipping it into the vase, three times sprinkled the bloody drops towards the sun; three times also over the men, and then poured out the contents of the vase, at the foot of the tree.
The men all seized their jugs, and rubbing them in a monotonous way, three times on the smooth surface of the rock, to produce a strange humming noise, lifted them together towards the sun, and then drained them at one draught. The putting them down again, sounded like one single blow, so simultaneous, was the movement. After this everyone put on his mantle, and then they all went silently down hill.
It was the first night of November.
When all had become quiet again, the children stepped out of their hiding-place, and confronted the old woman. Audifax had taken out the slip of parchment,--but the hag snatching up a brand out of the fire, approached them with a threatening look; so that the children hastily turned round, and fled down the hill, as fast as their feet could carry them.