If she had known the real difference that unconsciously kept her sons apart, her heart would have ached yet more.
CHAPTER XVIII
FRIEDMUND IN THE CLOUDS
The stone was quarried high on the mountain, and a direct road was made for bringing it down to the water-side. The castle profited by the road in accessibility, but its impregnability was so far lessened. However, as Ebbo said, it was to be a friendly harbour, instead of a robber crag, and in case of need the communication could easily be destroyed. The blocks of stone were brought down, and wooden sheds were erected for the workmen in the meadow.
In August, however, came tidings that, after two amputations of his diseased limb, the Kaisar Friedrich III. had died—it was said from over free use of melons in the fever consequent on the operation. His death was not likely to make much change in the government, which had of late been left to his son. At this time the King of the Romans (for the title of Kaisar was conferred only by coronation by the Pope, and this Maximilian never received) was at Innspruck collecting troops for the deliverance of Styria and Carinthia from a horde of invading Turks. The Markgraf of Wurtemburg sent an intimation to all the Swabian League that the new sovereign would be best pleased if their homage were paid to him in his camp at the head of their armed retainers.
Here was the way of enterprise and honour open at last, and the young barons of Adlerstein eagerly prepared for it, equipping their vassals and sending to Ulm to take three or four men-at-arms into their pay, so as to make up twenty lances as the contingent of Adlerstein. It was decided that Christina should spend the time of their absence at Ulm, whither her sons would escort her on their way to the camp. The last busy day was over, and in the summer evening Christina was sitting on the castle steps listening to Ebbo’s eager talk of his plans of interesting his hero, the King of the Romans, in his bridge, and obtaining full recognition of his claim to the Debateable Strand, where the busy workmen could be seen far below.
Presently Ebbo, as usual when left to himself, grew restless for want of Friedel, and exclaiming, “The musing fit is on him!—he will stay all night at the tarn if I fetch him not,” he set off in quest of him, passing through the hamlet to look for him in the chapel on his way.
Not finding Friedel there, he was, however, some way up towards the tarn, when he met his brother wearing the beamy yet awestruck look that he often brought from the mountain height, yet with a steadfast expression of resolute purpose on his face.
“Ah, dreamer!” said Ebbo, “I knew where to seek thee! Ever in the clouds!”
“Yes, I have been to the tarn,” said Friedel, throwing his arm round his brother’s neck in their boyish fashion. “It has been very dear to me, and I longed to see its gray depths once more.”
“Once! Yea manifold times shalt thou see them,” said Ebbo. “Schleiermacher tells me that these are no Janissaries, but a mere miscreant horde, even by whom glory can scarce be gained, and no peril at all.”