At this Giacomo lost his patience. “Nay, go to the Devil yourselves, dear countrymen,” he retorted, “or whither you please! As for me, the Englishmen’s gold is as good as your own. Give way!”
By this time the archers had grasped the situation, for they had been once praised by the Duke and held up as examples to the disorderly Lombards, who ever since had been their bitter enemies; and when the two cuirassiers proceeded to knock the jugs from Giacomo’s hand, spilling the wine upon the floor, Ralph with another tall archer sprang up, seized them by the throat in their iron grasp, and hurled them against the door with such violence that it burst open, and the Lombards rolled out head over heels just at the feet of Captain Vögeli, who was making his rounds through the camp to see that all was in order. This unexpected encounter was far from pleasing to the cuirassiers, for any breach of peace was severely punished. They attempted to explain, but the uproar within was so great, Vögeli did not stop to listen. Hastily entering the tavern he found the Englishmen surrounded on all sides with threatening fists and gleaming knives. Instant silence followed his appearance, for the strictness of the Duke’s discipline was well known among his followers, and the officer of the day was therefore a person much to be feared. Each man gave a different account of what had happened; but as all agreed that the two Lombards who had been flung out of the door and who by this time had picked themselves up out of the dust were the chief offenders, the Captain concluded to keep the affair to himself for this once, and merely ordered the archers to leave the wine shop. Before they had departed, however, the door of the servant’s sleeping-room opened and old Irmy made his appearance, roused at last by all the commotion.
“What! you here at last?” exclaimed Vögeli, holding out his hand to greet the merchant. “Truly you have kept us waiting long. But how came you here?”
“That is no concern of yours,” growled Irmy, refusing the proffered hand. “Where is my child, whom you enticed away from me in return for the hospitality I showed you?”
“My good sir,” said the officer, “’twas but in kindness to your friend, the host of The Bears, that you took me in, for it would have fared ill with him had news of that affair become known. As for your son, nothing was farther from my thoughts than to persuade him to leave you. I did not believe the lad would return to his home even had I refused to take him with me, and then you might have searched for him, who knows where? If you will go with me to the city, he shall be restored to you at once. Moreover, I have managed already to disgust him with the idea of soldiering. The other youth refuses to be converted, however, and is in a fair way to become a pikeman.”
“I care naught for him,” replied Irmy, as they left the wine shop; “he was always a good-for-naught. His father settled in the village of Aarau, and thought to ruin us merchants of Basle by his low prices; and when he finally died, himself a bankrupt, nothing would do but I must have the boy brought up in my house. But he never could be taught anything; he is as full of foolish pranks as a donkey is of gray hairs, though not altogether bad at heart,—not so bad as his father was.”
“Now you are talking sensibly,” said Vögeli. “Methinks you might have spared me your abuse just now.”
“Nay, do not judge me too harshly,” answered the old man; “it is my nature to grumble, and in a large business like mine one is vexed by so many people every day, one becomes used to quarrelling. Consider, too, that I had lost my only child, the boy who is to succeed to my name and to my business when I no longer have time or strength to carry it on. I am glad to find him here with you, and thank you with all my heart for the wisdom and prudence you have shown.”
“Truly that has a different sound,” declared the officer; “but let us turn up this street. My lodgings are yonder on the market place, and there we shall find the lad.”
Old Irmy hurried on in advance of his companion, till he reached the doorway of the house Vögeli had pointed out; he rushed up the stairway, and the next moment father and son were clasped in each other’s arms. The Councillor’s forgiveness was easily won, for he had already given his anger full vent, and when, half an hour later, the two Irmys found themselves seated with the Captain at the well spread table of the best inn the town afforded, the last trace of his resentment vanished.