The merchant’s knowledge of German was small, but the purport of the words was plain, and he gladly left the damp, chilly vault. Ebbo pointed to the bales that strewed the hall. “Take all that can be carried,” he said. “Here is your sword, and your purse,” he said, for these had been given to him in the moment of victory. “I will bring out your horse and lead you to the pass.”
“Give him food,” whispered Friedel; but the merchant was too anxious to have any appetite. Only he faltered in broken German a proposal to pay his respects to the Signora Castellana, to whom he owed so much.
“No! Dormit in lecto,” said Ebbo, with a sudden inspiration caught from the Latinized sound of some of the Italian words, but colouring desperately as he spoke.
The Latin proved most serviceable, and the merchant understood that his property was restored, and made all speed to gather it together, and transport it to the stable. One or two of his beasts of burden had been lost in the fray, and there were more packages than could well be carried by the merchant, his servant, and his horse. Ebbo gave the aid of the old white mare—now very white indeed—and in truth the boys pitied the merchant’s fine young bay for being put to base trading uses, and were rather shocked to hear that it had been taken in payment for a knight’s branched velvet gown, and would be sold again at Ulm.
“What a poor coxcomb of a knight!” said they to one another, as they patted the creature’s neck with such fervent admiration that the merchant longed to present it to them, when he saw that the old white mare was the sole steed they possessed, and watched their tender guidance both of her and of the bay up the rocky path so familiar to them.
“But ah, signorini miei, I am an infelice infelicissimo, ever persecuted by le Fate.”
“By whom? A count like Schlangenwald?” asked Ebbo.
“Das Schicksal,” whispered Friedel.
“Three long miserable years did I spend as a captive among the Moors, having lost all, my ships and all I had, and being forced to row their galleys, gli scomunicati.”
“Galleys!” exclaimed Ebbo; “there are some pictured in our World History before Carthage. Would that I could see one!”