CHAPTER II.
“These yellow cowslip cheeks,
And eyes as green as leeks.”
Twenty years is indeed a long period to look forward, but a very short one to look back, and so thought the now widowed princess, when, nineteen years and some months after her adventure in the forest, she sat beside her lovely daughter in the palace of Erfurt, listening with earnest and tender attention to the plans of her warlike sons for wresting their dominions from the iron grasp of Albert the One-eyed and Philip of Nassau. It was necessary that they should give battle to their enemies; and as the margrave of Misnia intended to fight for his country in person, this would unavoidably deprive her beloved daughter of that powerful protection which hitherto had been her security against the threats of the Yellow Dwarf. It now wanted but six months of the period when he had determined to claim his bride; and as he had not hitherto given any indication, according to his word, of his appearance for this purpose, she trusted he might have forgotten it altogether, and, quietly resolving not to complain of this breach of promise, forebore to mention the subject to her children.
One day, during the bustle of preparation for the approaching warfare, a knight, splendidly attired, arrived at the palace, and demanded to be introduced to the princess Margaret, who no sooner beheld him, than she recognised in the colour of his arms the livery of her dear son-in-law, the Dwarf of the Orange Tree. He announced himself as the knight of the king of the oranges, and his embassy was to place abundance of gold at the feet of the princess Margaret, and to carry away her daughter as the bride of his master. Concealment was no longer possible, so sending for her children, she informed them of her forest adventure, and its unfortunate result. Poor Brunilda fainted away; her brothers swore as lustily as ever queen Elizabeth did, and fairly bullied the knight ambassador for his presumption in daring to think of their sister as a helpmate for the little dirty low-lived sorcerer his master; and Margaret, who before their entrance had been absolutely terrified to death by his presence, now finding herself protected, suffered her tongue to wag at a most unconscionable rate against the poor ambassador. She told him she had a great mind to cut off his ears, for bringing her such a message; that his master was a little conceited monster; that if, with all this gold and silver, he would buy a fine castle, cut off his beard, and live like a gentleman, he should not want her interest with one of the dairy-maids, but as it was, the thing was utterly impossible, he would not succeed even with the lowest scullion. “Madam,” replied the knight, with a grim kind of gravity, which was not half relished by the princess, “I would have you to understand I came not hither to bandy words with you, nor to listen to a catalogue of my master’s perfections: I must, however, inform you, that he would not part from his Orange Tree, nor with his beard, for all the princesses in the universe, the fair Brunilda included. If you do not think proper to keep your promise, he will find means to oblige you: neither does he require human aid to obtain his betrothed bride; but his gallantry and good nature will not allow him to force the will of the fair princess, if he can relinquish his determination with honour. He is fully aware of your present repugnance to his nuptials, and he is now whispering me to say, that if the princess herself declines his vows (which he can hardly believe), he will release her upon condition of her finding a champion that shall conquer me, and afterwards my invincible master, before the six months have expired, in single combat on horseback, on foot, with lance or sword, according to his highness’s good pleasure at the time of meeting: shall I say these terms are accepted?” “You may,” replied the margrave, to whom these conditions did not appear very hard, and who thought it better to comply with than refuse them, as he was not aware of the strength of the enemy to whom his mother’s promise had really been given; and he remembered he should probably be compelled to leave his lovely sister unprotected, while absent on his distant wars. The arrangements were, therefore, soon made, and the yellow champion was satisfied.
And now a splendid scene opened to view in the territories of Frederic with the bitten cheek. No sooner each day had the bells rung out the hour of prime, than the trumpet sounded to proclaim the challenge of the yellow knight, and the promise of the margrave of Misnia, that the successful champion of the fair Brunilda should obtain her hand for his reward. Day after day did some knight essay the adventure; and day after day did the noble Margaret enter the lists, attended by her lovely daughter, who looked through her fan of peacock’s feathers, as charming, and carried herself as “daintily,” as whilom did the beauteous Esther, when she entered into the presence of the loving Ahasuerus. But not like that beautiful daughter of the scorners of pork did she obtain her petition; for day after day was she compelled to witness the ruin of her hopes in the repeated triumphs of the yellow Haman over her own black, brown, or party-coloured champions: knight after knight fell beneath his ponderous arm, and were obliged to resign their claims to the fair Brunilda, to her infinite regret, and their bitter mortification. Already had the counts of Wartzburg, Oettingen, Henneberg, Hanau, and Conrad of Reida, been compelled to acknowledge the superiority of his powerful arm, when the arrival of the handsome knight of Tecklenburgh, who just came in time to hear a week’s rest proclaimed, in order to gain time for the approach of other knights from the most distant parts of Germany to the aid of the endangered princess, revived the hopes of Brunilda. He came, he saw, he conquered—not the sword of the yellow champion, but the heart of the charming princess, which was formed of too tender materials to hold out against so well-looking and redoubted a warrior: she fell instantly in love with him to distraction, and he, on his part, was too well bred to be behind-hand. In the extravagance of her fondness, she thought all things possible to her lover, and made no doubt that he would be victorious in the combat. Ludolph was precisely of the same opinion, and to manifest its justice, was most irritably impatient for the day of combat, which was still at the distance of several halting sun-risings and sun-settings, which that long-legged old ragamuffin Time did not carry off, in the opinion of the lovers, quite so rapidly as he ought to have done.
But it came at last, that day, that morning of miracles; it came, and brought nothing with it to daunt the brave spirit of the knight of Tecklenburgh. Light as the plume in his casque, gay as the colours of his harness, he entered the lists, and gallantly opposed his person against the ponderous carcase of the yellow-coloured champion. Blow after blow was freely given, and as freely received, till the spectators began to doubt whether either of the men before them was really made of flesh and blood. Proof decisive, however, was soon given, for the sword of Ludolph cleft the helmet of his antagonist, and dashed his weapon from his hand, so that, defenceless and at the mercy of his conqueror, he yielded up his claim to victory, and was content to beg his life. The acclamations of the people proved to Ludolph the difficulty of the conquest he had just achieved. The nobles were all anxious to testify their esteem and admiration, though some in their hearts were bursting with envy, and felt themselves almost choked by the fine things they thought it necessary to utter. Ludolph took them all in good faith with perfect confidence in their sincerity, for he was too happy and too honest to suspect; and then turning to the poor champion, whom he hardly allowed time to recover breath, recommended him to return to his little lord, and bear his defiance, as he should quietly wait to fulfil the last condition ere he received the hand of the beautiful Brunilda. The Yellow Champion took the advice thus kindly offered him, and quitted the palace of Erfurt, leaving his conqueror busy enough in accepting those disinterested professions of service which are seldom offered except to those who do not want them, or from whom an adequate return may not unreasonably be expected.
Ludolph waited with great impatience the Dwarf’s reply to his challenge. His time was passed, meanwhile, in making love to the princess (who on her part was tolerably well disposed to listen to him), and laying up a stock of devotion, by prayer and fasting, to serve, as occasion should warrant, in the approaching combat with the demon, of whose power he had formed other notions, since his residence in the Misnian court, than either thinking him so harmless or so insignificant as he had formerly done. But the days rolled on, and no dwarf appeared. Margaret, who sincerely admired the valour of Ludolph, was anxious to end his suspense, and Brunilda’s terrors, by uniting him at once to her daughter, without waiting for the presence of the Lord of the Orange Tree, of whom she could never think without shuddering; but the margrave, who, much as he loved his sister and her noble deliverer, was too much of a gentleman to break his word, even with a dwarf, determined they should stay the full time allotted by the demon. The latter was too gallant, and too much in love with the princess, to forget his engagement, and accordingly one morning, as the trumpets were sounding the usual summons to the lists, the Dwarf himself entered them in his customary dress, mounted upon a yellow steed, and surrounded by a large troop of knights in his colours. The nobles and ladies of the margrave’s court, struck by the oddity of his appearance, entirely forgot their politeness, and burst into as hearty and unanimous a laugh as ever was heard in our lower House at any of Joe H—’s blunders. But it was no laughing matter to Brunilda: she saw, for the first time, her intended husband, and she felt that his ugliness even exceeded her mother’s report, and heaven knows that had not been flattering. She cast a look of tender entreaty upon Ludolph, who, impatient to punish his rival and relieve her anxiety, couched his lance, and spurred forward to meet the demon, who, not to be behind-hand in courtesy, advanced to receive him. But the knight suddenly sprung back, on observing the singular dress of his adversary, the extraordinary lightness of those accoutrements struck him with astonishment. “Sir knight of the Orange Tree,” said he, “except the lance in your hand and the sword in your belt, I see no sort of preparation for a combat; sheathe your person in harness, I pray you, that so at least the chances may be more equal between us.” “What is that to thee?” replied the Dwarf; “it is my pleasure to fight in these garments: thief as thou art, conquer me in them if thou canst. For thee, sweet lady, I am here, to prove my right to thy hand, to rescue it from this craven, and fear not but I shall deserve it: my palace is ready, thy dowry is ready, and twice a thousand slaves wait to obey thy wishes.” Ludolph could not endure this insolence, so rushing forward as the yellow knights retired from the person of their leader, he began a most furious attack upon the animal who pretended to rival him in the affections of his lady. Alas! poor Brunilda! if she had trembled before, during the combats with the yellow knight, what anxiety must not have filled her bosom now! The lances were soon shivered to pieces: the champions drew their swords, but seemed to make very little impression with them. Ludolph had not yet received a wound, and yellow-jacket seemed determined to make good his boast, and hold the knight of Tecklenburgh a tug. Vain was all the skill and strength of the latter; though he struck with all his might and main, and heart and soul, he could not cut through a single hair of the Dwarf’s long beard, which seemed to wag at him in derision. Poor Brunilda sat as uneasily upon her canopied throne as if she had been upon a bed of nettles. She prayed to all the saints in heaven, and St. Henry the Limper in particular, to assist her dear knight in this terrible combat: but St. Henry the Limper was not in good humour, or was otherwise engaged, for he did not appear to pay the least attention to her request, and Ludolph was left to fight it out by himself as he could. In truth, he did not want inclination to put an end to the business. After pegging and poking at every inch of the Dwarf’s invulnerable carcass, he espied a little unguarded spot on the left side of his throat, exactly open to his right hand. Delighted by the prospect of slicing off his ragamuffin head, he aimed a mighty blow with all his force, which the little demon parried; he struck a second with no better success; but the third was triumphant, for it sent the yellow head flying from his shoulders, and bounding to another part of the area. The knight leaped from his saddle to seize the head and hold it up to the view of the people; but in this race, to his horror, he was outstripped by the Dwarf himself, who likewise, darting from his horse, flew to the head, grasped it firmly, gave it a shake, clapped it upon his shoulders, and fixed it again as firmly and steadily as ever. Then, ere the spectators could recover from the stupor into which this unexpected contretemps had thrown them, he struck the staring Ludolph to the ground, seized the princess by her flowing locks, swung her behind him, and bolted out of the area. His knights wheeled round to follow him, but the Misnian nobles, recovering from their confusion, surrounded them with drawn swords, and began a desperate battle, in which it appeared they clearly had the worst, only hacking and hewing each other; for the knights, squires, pages, and horses of the enemy suddenly vanished from their sight, and in their places appeared a waggon load of oranges bowling and rolling about the area in the most amusing manner possible. It was some time ere the nobles could direct their attention to the unfortunate count of Tecklenburgh, who, stunned by the blow given to him as the parting blessing of the spiteful Dwarf, was lying insensible on the ground: the moment he recovered, he declared his intention of pursuing the enemy, in which he was seconded by all the knights present, who, headed by Margaret as guide and commander, resolved to storm the Orange Tree itself, and liberate the captive damsel. They set forward with great courage and in good order; but they might just as effectively have stayed at home, for, after wandering about the forest for three days, they returned crestfallen enough, not only being unable to discover the Orange Tree, but even the plain in which it stood! Poor Ludolph, whom the princes had vainly endeavoured to comfort with the assurance that he had fairly gained the victory, though he had lost the fruit of it, did not return with them. They lost him from their company the first day of their search, and they firmly and devoutly believed the yellow devil had hooked him also in his infernal claws. Margaret gave herself up to grief, and her sons, finding nothing else was to be done, endeavoured to forget theirs in the bustle of the approaching war.