But one day, after they had parted company, word came to Blondel as he sang at the banquet table of a castle; a word carelessly spoken by a guest as of a matter which every one knew. And by cautious questioning he learned that Richard of England had never reached his kingdom; that Leopold, Duke of Austria, treacherously had made him prisoner while crossing his dukedom, whither a shipwreck had driven him, and handed him to an enemy of his, Emperor Henry VI., who paid sixty thousand pounds for him and now held him chained deep in some one of the many castles of his domain. In which one, no one knew.
Richard a captive! Blondel could hardly credit it. He sang no more that night, nor for many nights.
Months afterward, a minstrel went roaming here and there, apparently aimlessly, throughout Germany. Everywhere the lovely music that breathed from his harp-strings made him welcome at the towering castles that surmounted the cliffs along the winding Rhine. His handsome face and joyous songs made him the favourite among the maidens and they begged him to pass the season as their guest; but no. For a week, perhaps, he would be with them, then like a swallow he must on again to other resting-places, and long afterward the young girls on the castle walls would sing at their tasks the snatches of melody left in their memories as he passed.
One day in the town of Durrenstein the minstrel heard of an illustrious prisoner who was held captive in the castle of Trifels, surrounded by almost impassable crags. Much that goes on in the fortress becomes known outside in the market town, through the gossip of servants who come down for supplies. They like to know what is going on in the world outside, and in payment for such news are ready to give the little items of castle life; how Hans the man-at-arms fell asleep on guard and got a week in the prison on bread and water in consequence; how the Spanish envoy tried to kiss one of the maids when he had taken too much wine, and thus had forgotten that he was a gentleman; and what happened in consequence of his forgetfulness. Little things, of no importance whatever to the world, yet with now and then a grain of wheat among the chaff. Thus Blondel found his grain of wheat.
Striking the strings of his harp he sang with a full heart the most joyous carol that he knew, a song so bubbling over with mirth and sheer happiness that the whole market-place seemed to wear a broad smile and the wooden shoes of the peasants kept time with clumping thumps in the dusty road to the rhythm of the tune.
The man-at-arms from the castle smote his thigh till all the joints of his armour clashed and rattled:
"And here I must back with this message without a halt, with music like that going on down below. Why, it's enough to make our great noble in his dungeon forget his chains! Well, duty is duty. Here's my last coin, minstrel, for that song."
The minstrel laughed, throwing back his curly head and showing his white and pearly teeth.
"I pity thee, man-at-arms. 'Tis better to be a bird in the bush than in a cage. But this coin is heavy and I owe thee change. To-night, then, if thou art on the castle walls I'll come and sing to thee."
"It's a bargain!" and homeward rode the man in armour, clanking and clashing, and in his hoarse voice making vague shouts after bits of the carol that still haunted him, wondering meanwhile if the minstrel really would come.