"Look here!--If they want you to try that remedy, you must not do so. In my younger days they hung me up by the feet;--then they made some cuts in my head; thus taking away some blood, and part of my intellects, without helping me. At Cremona (Zedekias was the name of the Hebrew sage), they consulted the stars, and placed me on a mulberry-tree at midnight. It was a long exorcism with which they drove the headache into the tree, but it did not help me. In the German lands, they ordered me to take powdered crabs' eyes, mixed with the dust of St. Mark's grave; and a draught of wine from the lake after it: all in vain! Now I've got used to it. The worst is licked away by Muramolin's rough tongue. Come here my brave Mummolin, who has never betrayed me yet ..."
He stopped, almost breathless, and caressed the dog.
"My message" ... Ekkehard was beginning--, but the old man waved his hand to him and said: "Have patience yet awhile; 'tis not well to speak with an empty stomach. You must be hungry. Nothing is more awful and more holy than hunger--said that dean of yore, when his friend and guest, ate up five of the six trouts before him; leaving only the smallest on the plate. He who has had something to do with the world, does not easily forget that saying. Rauching, prepare our meal."
So Rauching went into a neighbouring closet, which had been fitted up as a kitchen. The provisions were kept in different niches, and a few moments later, a white wreath of smoke curled up, from the rocky chimney. Shortly after, the cooking was done. A stone slab served as table. The crowning piece of the frugal repast was a pike; but the pike was old; moss growing on its head, and its flesh was tough, as leather. A jug of reddish looking wine, was also brought by Rauching; but that had grown on the Sippling hills, a vintage which still enjoys the reputation of being the most sour of all the sour wines produced on the lake. Rauching waited upon them during the meal.
"Well, what may your business be?" asked the old man, when the meagre repast was ended.
"Evil tidings; the Huns are invading the country. Their hoofs will soon be treading the Suabian ground."
"Good!" cried the old man. "That serves you right. Are the Normans also approaching?"
"You speak strangely," said Ekkehard.
The eyes of the old man lighted up. "And if enemies were to spring up around you, like mushrooms, you have deserved it well; you and your masters. Rauching, fill the glass; the Huns are coming,--neque enim! Now you will have to swallow the soup, which your masters have salted for you. A great and proud empire had been founded, extending from the shores of the Ebro, to the Raab in the Danish land, into which not a rat could have entered, without faithful watchmen catching it. And this, the great Emperor Charlemagne ..."
"God bless him," exclaimed Rauching.