Ekkehard: A Tale of the Tenth Century. Vol. 2 (of 2)

by Joseph Victor von Scheffel

At the entrance of the valley was the Hunnic camp; consisting of some tents, and a few larger huts made of branches and straw. The horses were lodged in blockhouses of pine-logs. At the back was a mountain, whilst in front they had made a trench; fortified by a kind of palisade, made with paling and pieces of rock, in the genuine Hunnic fashion. Their sentinels rode up and down, within a considerable circumference. The reason of their having settled down there for a while, was partly their needing some rest after their late exploits, and partly an intended attack on the convent of St. Fridolin, situated in that neighbourhood. Some of their men, were building ships and rafts on the banks of the Rhine.

In his tent, lay Hornebog, who was now sole leader since Ellak's death; but in spite of all the cushions and carpets heaped up there, he could find no rest. Erica, the flower-of-the-Heath, was sitting by his side, playing with a golden bauble, which she wore round her neck on a silk ribbon.

"I don't know why," said Hornebog to her, "but things have become very uncomfortable. Those bald-headed monks have dealt us rather too heavy blows. We must not be quite so rash in future. Here also, I do not feel quite at my ease, for it is too still, and a calm generally precedes a storm. With thee too, everything is changed, since Ellak was killed. Thou shouldst love me now, as thou didst him, when he was the first leader; but thou art like a burnt-out fire."

Erica pulled away the jewel with a jerk, so that it rebounded on her bosom with a metallic ring, and softly hummed some Hunnic melody. Then there entered one of the Hunnic sentinels, accompanied by Hadumoth and Snewelin of Ellwangen as interpreter. The child had entered the camp, bravely passing the posts and not heeding their calls, until they stopped her. Snewelin then explained Hadumoth's wish, with regard to the prisoner boy. He was in as soft and compassionate a mood, as if he were still in his home, and about to celebrate Ash-Wednesday, for he had summed up on that very day, all the misdeeds which he had committed in the course of his Hunnic life; and the pillaged convents began to weigh heavily on his conscience.

"Tell them also, that I can pay them a ransom," said Hadumoth, undoing the seam of her bodice to get at the gold piece. She handed it to the chieftain, who laughed immoderately, joined by Erica.

"What a crazy land!" exclaimed Hornebog, when his laughter had subsided. "The men cut off their hair, and the children do, what would honour a warrior. If instead of this little maiden, the armed men from the lake had followed us, it would have put us into an awkward position."

A sudden suspicion now crossing his mind, he cast a searching look at the child. "If she were a spy!" ... exclaimed he. But Erica now rose, and patted Hadumoth's head. "Thou shalt stay with me," said she, "for I want something to play with, since my black horse is dead, and my Ellak is dead." ...

"Take the brat away!" Hornebog now called out angrily. "Have we come here, to play with children?" Then Erica saw that a storm was brewing in the chieftain's bosom, and taking the little maiden by the hand, led her out.

There, where the camp receded towards the mountain, between some sheltering pieces of rock, a temporary cooking-place had been erected, which was the undisputed realm of the woman of the wood. Audifax was kneeling before the biggest of the kettles, blowing into the fire, in which the soup, that was destined for the evening meal, was boiling. But now he jumped up and gave a loud shriek, for he had beheld his little friend. Instantly the old hag stretched out her head, from behind the other kettle, and this was more than a warning. Without moving, he stirred the soup with a peeled branch, as was his prescribed task. Thus he stood, the image of dumb grief. He had become pale and haggard; and his eyes dimmed by the tears, which had touched nobody. "Mind, that thou dost not hurt the children, old baboon!" cried Erica.

Then Hadumoth went over to where the boy was, who now dropped his primitive spoon, and silently held out his hand to her; but out of his dark blue eyes there came a look, which told its own story of woe and suffering, and the longing wish, to regain his liberty. Hadumoth likewise, stood quietly before him. She had often imagined a joyous and touching meeting, but all these pictures had faded away now. The greatest joy sends its gratitude up to heaven, in a voiceless prayer.