CHAPTER XVIII.
Oh, may the deeds of those no more,
The glory that they won,
The sire's spirit hovering o'er,
So stimulate the son,
That this day's setting sun may see
Of no degenerate clay are we.
P. Conz.
When Albert von Sturmfeder viewed the old castle of Stuttgardt the next morning, it did not exhibit the same form which it has in our days, the present one having been built by the Duke's son, Prince Christoph. The residence of the former Dukes of Würtemberg stood in the same place; and differed little in plan and appearance from Christoph's work, except that it was for the most part built of wood. Being surrounded by broad and deep ditches, over which a bridge led to the town, a large open space in front served in early times as a tilt-yard for the gay court of Ulerich, whose powerful hand had often rolled many a knight in the arena. The interior also of the building bespoke the customs and usages of the times. High and vaulted halls occupied the lower part of the castle, and were generally used in rainy weather as a place for manly exercises, having space sufficient to admit of the largest lance being wielded without hindrance. Old chronicles mention the size of these halls as being spacious enough to contain between two and three hundred persons at table. A broad stone staircase, capable of admitting two horsemen to ride abreast, and made for that purpose, led to the upper apartments, where the splendour of the rooms, the grandeur of the hall of the knights, and the richly ornamented galleries used for dancing and play, corresponded with the exterior appearance of the castle.
Albert viewed with an eye of astonishment the extravagant splendour of the palace. When he compared the establishment of his ancestors with what he now saw, how small and confined they seemed to him! He recollected the stories he had heard of the brilliancy of Ulerich's court, on the occasion of his magnificent marriage, when seven thousand guests, from all parts of the German empire, caroused in this castle, in whose vaulted halls and spacious court-yards all kinds of games and merrymaking were held for a whole month; and a numerous assembly of noblemen, with all the greatest beauties of the day, kept up the merry dance till late at night. He looked down into the garden of the castle, which, from its beauty, was called Paradise. His fancy peopled the shaded walks and summerhouses, which were scattered about it, with the joyous throng of gallant knights and stately ladies, enjoying themselves with mirth and song. But alas! how deserted and empty were they now; and when he compared their present state with the picture his imagination had created, what a lesson of this world's vanity did it not give! The guests of the marriage feast, the brilliant merry court, all are vanished, said he to himself; the princely bride is flown, the brilliant circle of women by whom she was surrounded scattered to the four winds; knights and counts, who once feasted in these halls, have deserted their prince; the tender pledges of his marriage now in a distant land, in the hands of his enemies; and the lord of the castle is left alone to brood in solitude over his misfortunes, and think only of revenge; and who knows how long he will be allowed to remain in the house of his ancestors; who knows whether his enemies will not get the upper hand again, and, overpowering him, drive him into misery twofold greater than what he has already experienced.
The young soldier attempted in vain to repress these gloomy thoughts, which the contrast between the splendour of the surrounding objects and the misfortunes of the Duke involuntarily awakened in his mind. In vain he summoned to his aid the portrait of that beloved being, whom he hoped soon to call his own for ever; in vain he painted, in the most glowing colours, to his imagination, all the charms of domestic happiness in her company; he was still unable to shake off the gloomy ideas which the sight of the castle had produced on his mind. Whatever was the cause of it, whether it was the Duke's lofty character, which he had so nobly manifested in misfortune, and which had created so deep a feeling of admiration in the breast of the young man, or whether nature had gifted him with an extraordinary perception into future events, he remained riveted to the spot in deep thought. Persuaded that the Duke's affairs were any thing but prosperous, he felt himself in duty bound to warn him against some unforeseen impending danger which irresistibly haunted his mind.
"Why so much wrapped in thought, young man?" asked an unknown voice behind him, and roused him from his reverie: "I should have thought Albert von Sturmfeder had reason to be of good cheer."
Albert turned round in surprise, and cast his eyes upon the chancellor, Ambrosius Holland. If this man had struck Albert the night before, as being peculiarly forbidding by his officious courteousness, his cat-like sneaking manner, he was now more confirmed in his dislike, when he remarked the deformity of his person, rendered more conspicuous by an overladen finery of dress. His dark-yellow shrivelled-up face, with an eternal hypocritical smile upon it, his green eyes peeping out under long grey eyelashes, his highly inflamed eyelids, and scanty beard, contrasted strangely with a red velvet cap, and a gown made of bright yellow silk, which hung over his hump. Under the gown he wore a grass-green dress, slashed with rose-coloured silk, his knee-bands being of the same material, fastened with enormous rosettes. His head was stuck close between his shoulders, and the red cap, which he carried on it, appeared to belong equally to the hump. It was a great joke of the executioner of Stuttgardt, that of all heads, that of the chancellor Ambrosius Bolland would appear to be the most difficult to cut off.
This was the man who looked up at Albert von Sturmfeder with a courteous smile. He addressed him with smooth words, "Perhaps you don't know me, my much esteemed young friend: I am Ambrosius Bolland, the chancellor of his highness. I come to wish you a good morning."
"I thank you," said Albert; "and esteem it a great honour, if you have put yourself out of your way on my account."
"Honour to whom honour is due! you are the pattern and crown of our young knighthood! Truly, you who have stood by my master so faithfully in his necessity and dangers have a claim to my most inward thanks, and my particular respect."
"You might have bought your compliments much cheaper had you joined us at Mömpelgard," replied Albert, who was offended by the adulation of the flatterer. "There is no necessity to speak of fidelity; it were better to reprove the want of it."
A momentary ray of anger shot from the green-eyed chancellor, but he soon regained his fawning manner. "To be sure, I am of the same opinion. For my part, I was so crippled with gout, I could not travel to Mömpelgard; but now, what little power heaven has left me shall be devoted with redoubled zeal to the Duke's service."
He paused a moment, expecting an answer; but Albert was silent, and eyed him with a glance which he did not well know how to interpret. "Well, but you will now be able to enjoy your prosperity," continued the chancellor; "of course it is nothing more than you deserve, and the Duke has well chosen his favourite. Will you allow Ambrosius Bolland also to acknowledge his sense of your services? Are you an amateur of curious arms? Come to my dwelling in the market-place, and choose what most pleases you out of my armoury. If you are a lover of rare books, I have a whole chest full, much at your disposal, and pray select any you may fancy, as is the custom among friends. Come and dine with me sometimes; my niece keeps house for me, a pretty girl of seventeen years; only I must beg of you--hi! hi! hi!--not to look at her too close."
"Don't be afraid; I am already engaged."
"So? ah, that's acting like a Christian; it's very praiseworthy. It is not always that we find such virtue among the youth of the present day. I was quite certain that Sturmfeder was a pattern of virtue. But what I wanted to say was, that we--being the only two as yet who compose the Duke's court--we must keep together, and not allow any one to be appointed without our consent. Do you understand me? hi! hi!--one hand washes the other. But we can talk over that some other time. You will honour me with a visit sometimes?"
"When my time will allow me, Chancellor Ambrosius Bolland."
"I would willingly remain longer in your society, for your presence does my heart good; but I must now to the Duke. He is going to sit in judgment this morning on two prisoners who tried to excite the people to rebellion against him last night. Who would bet that Beltler was not already appointed."
"Beltler!" asked Albert, "who is he?"
"He is the executioner, most worthy young friend."
"For heaven's sake! the Duke surely will not stain the first day of his new government with blood!"
The chancellor smiled bitterly, and answered: "You do honour again to your excellent heart, but you are not fit to sit in a court of criminal justice. Examples must be made. One of them," he continued, with a soft voice, "will be beheaded because he belongs to the nobility, and the other, being a low fellow, will be hanged. God bless you, my dear friend!"
With these words the chancellor departed, treading with light step the long gallery which led to the Duke's apartment. Albert followed him with a look of contempt and disdain. He had heard that this man formerly, either by prudence, or, perhaps, rather by an unwarrantable exercise of artful cunning, had gained great influence over Ulerich: he had often heard the Duke himself speak of the great confidence he had in his cleverness in state affairs. He knew not why, but he feared for the Duke should he put too much faith in the chancellor, for he thought he could read intrigue and falsehood in his eye.
Just as he saw the hump and flowing yellow cloak turn the corner at the end of the gallery, a voice whispered to him: "Don't trust that yellow-faced hypocrite!" It was the fifer of Hardt, who had stolen to his side unnoticed.
"How! are you there, Hans?" cried Albert, and gladly proffered his hand. "Are you come to the castle to visit us? that's very kind; you are more heartily welcome than that humpbacked knave; but what have you to say of him that I should beware of?"
"He is a false man, and I have warned the Duke not to follow his advice, which made him very angry with me. He puts his whole confidence in him."
"But what did he say? Have you seen him this morning?" asked Albert.
"I went to take my leave of him, for I am going home to my wife and child. The Duke appeared moved at first, spoke of the days of his exile, and asked me to mention any act of grace he could confer upon me. But I merited none, for what I have done for him was only paying off an old debt. I asked him at last, not being able to think of anything else, to allow me the liberty to shoot my fox without being punished as a poacher. He laughed, and said I might do it, but that was no act of grace, I must demand something else. Well, I took courage, and said, I beg of your grace not to put too much confidence in the crafty chancellor, for it is my opinion he is false at heart."
"That's just what I think," cried Albert; "he looked as if he wanted to spy into my most inward thoughts with those green eyes of his; but what answered the Duke?"
"'You understand nothing upon such subjects,' was his reply, and became angry; and added, 'you may be a faithful and sure guide among clefts and caverns, but the chancellor understands state intrigues better than you.' It may be," added the fifer, "that I am wrong in my conjectures; I hope so, for the Duke's sake. So now farewell, sir; may God protect you! Amen."
"Will you really go, and not remain for my wedding?" said Albert. "I expect the knight of Lichtenstein and his daughter here to-day. Stay a day or two longer: you were our messenger of love, and ought not to desert us at this happy moment."
"Of what use can a poor man like me be at the wedding of a knight? I might, indeed, sit among the musicians, and take part in the music in honour of the happy event; but others can do it as well as me, and my house requires my presence."
"Well then, farewell," said Albert; "give my salutations to your wife and Barbelle, and visit us often in Lichtenstein. God be with you!"
A tear filled the eye of the young man as he gave the peasant a hearty parting shake of the hand, for he had always found him an honest trustworthy man, a faithful servant of the Duke, a bold companion in danger, and cheerful society in misfortune. He was about asking many questions concerning the mysterious life which this man followed, for he was particularly curious to know the cause of his extraordinary attachment to the Duke, but he suppressed them out of delicacy to his feelings. The natural greatness of mind which characterised the fifer of Hardt, though he were a common peasant, awed him into silence touching those subjects which his friend had always appeared to wish to avoid.
"But, I have one thing more to say," said Hans, as he was going: "do you know that your old friend and future cousin-in-law, von Kraft, is here?"
"The scribe to the council? how did he come here? he's a Leaguist!"
"He is here, nevertheless, and not in the most agreeable position--for he is in prison. Yesterday evening, when the people assembled in the market place, in consequence of the Duke's arrival, it appears he addressed them in favour of the League."
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Albert, "was that Dieterich Kraft, the scribe? I must go instantly to the Duke, who now sits in judgment upon him, or the chancellor will have his head off. Good bye!"
The young man hurried along the corridor to the Duke's apartment. He had been in the habit in Mömpelgard of having immediate access to him at all times of day, and, therefore, the porter now respectfully opened the door. He entered in a hasty manner, to the astonishment of the Duke, who was somewhat displeased; but the chancellor masked his hypocrisy, as usual, under a smile of mildness.
"Good morning, Sturmfeder," said the Duke, who sat at a table, dressed in a green coat embroidered in gold, with a green hunting cap on his head; "I hope you have slept well in our castle. What brings you thus early to us? we have important business."
The eyes of the young man had in the mean time anxiously looked about the room, and there discovered the scribe of the Ulmer council standing in a corner. He was as pale as death; his hair, which was wont to be combed with great care, hung in disorder over his neck, and a rose-coloured gown which he wore over a black coat was torn to tatters. His eyes met Albert's with a most pitiable look, and he then glanced upwards, as much as to say, "it is all over with me." Near him stood other men: one of whom, tall and meagre, he thought to have seen before. The prisoners were guarded by Peter, the brave Magdeburger, and Staberl of Vienna. They stood at their post with outstretched legs, their halberds resting on the floor, upright as candles.
"I say, we have important business at present," continued the Duke; "but why do you look so intent upon him with the rose-coloured gown? he is a hardened sinner; the sword is being sharpened for his neck!"
"Will your highness allow me but one word," replied Albert. "I know that man, and would stake all I possess in the world, that he is a peaceable subject; and positively not a criminal who deserves death."
"By Saint Hubertus, that is a bold speech! You have changed your nature, methinks: my chancellor, the worthy jurist, has put himself forward like a young warrior; and you, my young soldier, would assume the advocate. What say you to that, Ambrosius Bolland?"
"Hi! hi! I adorned my person by way of letting your highness have a joke, for I know, of old date, you are fond of a little fun; and our dear good Sturmfeder, for the sake of adding to it, plays the part of a jurist. Hi! hi! hi! but all he may say or do, he cannot save him in the rose-coloured gown. High treason! he must lose his head, poor fellow!"
"Mr. Chancellor," cried Albert, glowing with anger, "the Duke can witness, that I was never accustomed to play the buffoon. I don't wish to rival any person in this sort of character; but I never play or make sport with the life of a fellow creature! I am seriously in earnest, when I pledge my life for the noble Dieterich von Kraft, scribe to the council of Ulm, now present before you. I hope my bail will be taken."
"How?" said Ulerich, "is he the elegant gentleman, your host in Ulm, of whom you have often spoke to me. I regret that he committed himself so far as to be taken in the act of creating an insurrection, under very suspicious circumstances."
"Certainly," croaked Ambrosius, "a crimen lesæ majestatis!"
"Permit me, sir, to speak," said Albert. "I have studied law long enough to know, that in this case it is absurd to talk of treason. The governor and council of the League were still in the town last night, consequently Stuttgardt was in the power of the enemy, and the scribe, who is in no wise a subject of his highness, did not act differently from any other Leaguist soldier, who takes the field against the Duke by the orders of his superiors."
"Ei, youth, youth! How nicely it accommodates itself to circumstances!" said the chancellor; "but my worthy friend, you must know that so soon as the Duke summoned the town, and had the animum possidentis, every thing within its walls belonged to him. Therefore, any conspiracy against his royal person, becomes high treason immediately. The prisoner Dieterich von Kraft held very dangerous language to the people."
"Impossible! it is quite contrary to his manner and principles. My Lord Duke, it cannot be!"
"Albert!" said the Duke in earnest, "we have had much patience in hearing what you have to say; but it can do your friend no good. Here is the protocol. The chancellor had examined witnesses before I came, and every thing is proved as clear as day. We must make an example. The chancellor is perfectly right; therefore I cannot hold out any act of grace in the prisoner's favour."
"But allow me to ask him and the witnesses one question--only a few words," said Albert.
"That is against all forms of justice," said the chancellor; "I must protest against it; it is an infringement on my office."
"Let it be, Ambrosius," said the Duke. "He may ask a question, with all my heart, of the poor sinner, who has no chance of escape."
"Dieterich von Kraft," said Albert, addressing the prisoner, "how came you to be in Stuttgardt?"
The forlorn scribe, whom death seemed already to have made his prey, turning his eyes towards him, his teeth chattering from fear, was scarcely able to mutter a word in answer. "I was sent here by the council of Ulm, as secretary to the governor."
"How was it that you appeared before the burghers of Stuttgardt, yesterday evening?" said Albert.
"The governor ordered me to remind them of their duty and oath, should there, perchance, be an insurrection against the League."
"Don't you perceive, he was only acting under orders?" said Albert, turning to the Duke. "Who took you prisoner?" he continued with the examination.
"The man standing beside you."
"Did you take this gentleman into custody? then you must have heard what he said; what did he say?" said Albert to the man.
"Yes, I heard what he said," answered the burgher; "he had spoken but six words, when burghermaster Hartmann threw him down from the bank. I remember what they were, namely: 'Recollect, my friends, what will the illustrious council of the League say!' That was all, and then Hartmann took him by the collar. But there stands Doctor Calmus, who made a longer speech."
The Duke roared with laughter, first looking at Albert and then at the chancellor, who turned pale, and was so disconcerted, that he could scarcely muster up courage to join in his master's hilarity. "Were those all the dangerous words he spoke--is this the charge of high treason--'What would the council of the League say?' Poor Kraft! These few words have brought your neck within a hair's breadth of the executioner's sword. We have often heard our friends say, 'What will folks think, when they hear the Duke is in the country again?' therefore, I will not punish him. What think you of it, Sturmfeder?"
"I know not what reason you could have had," said Albert, addressing the chancellor, with anger beaming in his eyes, "to have pushed the case to such lengths, and advised the Duke to these harsh measures; which, instead of healing past grievances, would only cause the cry of 'tyrant' to be raised everywhere against him. If you have acted from an overheated zeal of duty, you have this once surpassed the bounds of discretion."
The chancellor was silent, and satisfied himself by throwing a furious glance at the young man. The Duke stood up, and said, "You must not blame my little adviser for his zeal in my cause, which has perhaps made him act with too much severity in this instance. There, take your rose-coloured friend with you, give him a glass to expel his ghastly fear, and then let him go wherever he will. And you, dog of a doctor, as for you, who are not worthy of the title of dog doctor, a Würtemberg gallows is too good for you. You will be hung one of these days, so I will not give myself the trouble to do it at present. Long Peter, order your men to bind that fellow on an ass, with his face to the tail, and lead him through the town, and thence let him be sent to Esslingen, to his wise counsellors, to whom he and his beast belong. Away with him!"
The features of the wretched doctor, who had hitherto sat in fear of death, soon cheered up by this happy change in his fate; he breathed more freely, and made a low bow. Peter, Staberl, and the Magdeburger, laid hold of him with savage joy, hoisted him on their broad shoulders, and bore him away.
The scribe of Ulm shed tears of joy, and, impelled by gratitude, wanted to kiss the Duke's cloak; but he turned away, and waved to Albert to withdraw his friend.