“Yes, I know it well,” said Fritz. “My father has taken Katrina and me to walk there very often. When we felt tired we’d rest on the Singers’ bench far away at the end, and father would tell us of the minstrels who used to sing at the castle long ago,—how, when weary with the journey, they, too, would stop and rest on that same seat.”
“But have you never seen the splendid Minstrels’ Hall, where the bards who visited the Wartburg in the olden days would sing and play their harps?”
“No, I have never been inside the castle. Katrina hasn’t been allowed to go, and I am waiting until we can visit it together.”
“Ah, then you have yet to see the great hall where they held the famous minstrel contest, which has passed into song and story.”
“I’d like truly to have you tell me about this contest,” was Fritz’s answer. “Then when we visit the Minstrels’ Hall I can repeat the story to Katrina.”
“Very well,” the voice responded. “When you and your little friend enter the great room, you will see a slightly raised platform. This is called the ‘bower,’ and it was here that the singers performed their parts when they came before the landgraves and their distinguished company. Now the famous contest of which I am about to tell you took place in the time of the good Landgrave Herman.
“At Herman’s court were a company of poets of good birth, the chief of whom were Wolfram of Eschenbach and Henry of Ofterdingen. This Henry of Ofterdingen has figured in many a romantic story, and some have confused him with Tannhäuser, another bard, who lived at a later date.
“Once upon a time,” the voice went on, “when the good Herman and his wife Sophia, with all their court, were gathered in the Minstrels’ Hall, the singers, one by one, recited the deeds of the Landgrave Herman. But when it came to the turn of Henry of Ofterdingen he sang praises to the Duke of Austria, and compared him with the shining sun. Thus begun, the contest waxed so fierce that it was agreed the conquered should be put to death. Only by foul play could the other minstrels worst Henry of Ofterdingen. He, seeing their intentions, appealed to the Landgravine Sophia for protection. Out of pity the noble princess shielded him, but gave him his freedom on one condition only. He must go to Austria, and, in a year’s time, return, bringing with him as arbitrator the world-renowned master of song, Klingsor of Hungary.
“Ofterdingen, glad to escape, hastened away to Austria, and sought the duke whom he had lauded in his songs. The latter received him graciously, and, besides enriching him with costly gifts, gave him a letter to Klingsor, who dwelt in his splendid, but solitary, castle in the Seven Hills.
“To the surprise of every one, Henry of Ofterdingen, accompanied by Klingsor, appeared before the Wartburg at the appointed time. Now this Klingsor was an astrologer, who professed to foretell events by reading them in the stars. And on the first night of his coming to the Wartburg, he was found seated outside the castle, gazing attentively at the starry sky. On being asked why he sat looking at the heavens, Klingsor replied: