“That is not what I wept for, lady,” said Christina. “I do not think you would bring harm on me. But oh! I would I were at home! I grieve for the bloodshed that I must see and may not hinder, and for that poor merchant.”
“Oh,” said Ermentrude, “you need not fear for him! I saw his own folk return and lift him up. But what is he to thee or to us?”
“I am a burgher maid, lady,” said Christina, recovering herself, and aware that it was of little use to bear testimony to such an auditor as poor little Ermentrude against the deeds of her own father and brother, which had in reality the sort of sanction Sir Eberhard had mentioned, much akin to those coast rights that were the temptation of wreckers.
Still she could not but tremble at the thought of her speech, and went down to supper in greater trepidation than usual, dreading that she should be expected to thank the Freiherr for his gift. But, fortunately, manners were too rare at Adlerstein for any such omission to be remarkable, and the whole establishment was in a state of noisy triumph and merriment over the excellence of the French wine they had captured, so that she slipped into her seat unobserved.
Every available drinking-horn and cup was full. Ermentrude was eagerly presented with draughts by both father and brother, and presently Sir Eberhard exclaimed, turning towards the shrinking Christina with a rough laugh, “Maiden, I trow thou wilt not taste?”
Christina shook her head, and framed a negative with her lips.
“What’s this?” asked her father, close to whom she sat. “Is’t a fast-day?”
There was a pause. Many were present who regarded a fast-day much more than the lives or goods of their neighbours. Christina again shook her head.
“No matter,” said good-natured Sir Eberhard, evidently wishing to avert any ill consequence from her. “’Tis only her loss.”
The mirth went on rough and loud, and Christina felt this the worst of all the miserable meals she had partaken of in fear and trembling at this place of her captivity. Ermentrude, too, was soon in such a state of excitement, that not only was Christina’s womanhood bitterly ashamed and grieved for her, but there was serious danger that she might at any moment break out with some allusion to her maiden’s recusancy in her reply to Sir Eberhard.