The Banished: A Swabian Historical Tale

by Wilhelm Hauff

"Well, don't you see?" cried Albert, impatiently, "if all be as you say, how could that man swear that he had nothing to do with----"

"That he had nothing of any kind to do with the lady, you would say?" answered the fifer, "without hesitation he can swear to that; but there is one essential difference in the story, which that old goose Rosel certainly never knew; namely, that the knight of Lichtenstein always receives his guest in the saloon, and, as soon as his daughter has placed before him the refreshments which she has prepared, she withdraws. The old gentleman remains with the banished man till the first crow of the cock, when, after having well satisfied his hunger and thirst, and warmed his weary limbs at the fire, he leaves the castle in the same way that he entered it."

"Oh, fool that I was not to have thought of all this before! The truth was close at hand, and I pushed it from me! But cursed be the curiosity and slanderous spirit of those women, who always fancy they can divine something extraordinary in the most trifling circumstance, and whose greatest charm consists in conjecturing improbabilities. But tell me," said Albert, after a moment's thought, "it strikes me very odd, that this banished man should visit the castle every night exactly as the clock strikes eleven--in what inhospitable neighbourhood does he reside, which obliges him to seek subsistence here at that unseasonable hour? Now, mind, I am not to be trifled with!"

The eye of the fifer rested upon Albert with an expression almost amounting to disdain: "Such gentlemen as you," he answered, "certainly know little of the pain of banishment; you never experienced the horror of being obliged to conceal yourself from the hand of the assassin, shivering in damp caves, living in inhospitable caverns, among the society of owls, deprived of a warm meal and a cheering glass! But come with me, if you have an inclination,--the day does not break yet, and you cannot go to Lichtenstein by night,--and I will lead you to the habitation of the banished knight. You will not ask me again why he visits the castle at midnight."

The appearance of the stranger had excited Albert's curiosity to such a degree, that he willingly accepted the offer of the fifer of Hardt, more particularly as he then would have the best opportunity of finding out the truth or falsehood of his assertions. His guide took the bridle of his horse, and led him down a narrow pathway in the wood. Albert followed, after he had taken a farewell look at the windows of Lichtenstein. They moved on in silence, which the young man made no attempt to break, his thoughts being wholly taken up with the person whom he was about to visit, and the strange occurrence which had just taken place. He recollected to have heard somewhere or other that many staunch partisans of the Duke had been driven from their possessions by the fury of the League, and he thought that it must have been in the inn at Pfullingen, where mention had been made of a knight of the name of Maxx Stumpf von Schweinsberg, whom the confederates were in search of. The bravery and extraordinary strength of this man was the common talk of all Swabia and Franconia; and when Albert recalled to his mind the powerful figure, the commanding countenance of his late heroic opponent, he thought it could not possibly be any other than this knight, one of Duke Ulerich's most faithful followers. The idea of having had an affair with such a man, and to have measured swords with him in fair fight, was particularly flattering to the amour propre of the young man, although the result had been left undecided.

So thought Albert von Sturmfeder on that night. And after a lapse of many years, when his noble antagonist had been long reinstated in his rights, and by sound of bugle could as formerly assemble his followers in hundreds, he reckoned it among his best feat of arms to have stood his ground before the brave and powerful stranger.

They were now arrived at a small open meadow in the wood, which terminated in a thick hedge of thorns and briars. The fifer having secured the horse to a tree off the path, made a gap through the entangled branches, and gave a sign to Albert to follow. It was not without difficulty and some danger that he obeyed his leader's directions, who in many places was obliged to assist him with his hand, as they proceeded down a narrow footpath into a deep ravine. When they had descended about eighty feet they came to even ground again, where the young man expected to find the dwelling of the banished man; but he was disappointed. His companion then went to a tree of great circumference, and which was hollow from age, and brought forth two large torches of pine wood, and striking fire by means of a steel and flint, and a small bit of sulphur, ignited them.

Albert observed, by the brilliant light of the torches, that they stood before a large opening which nature had formed in the wall of the rock. This must be, he thought, the entrance to the habitation of the stranger, who, as the fifer had expressed himself, had his lodgings among owls. The man of Hardt took one of the torches, and giving the other to his companion, said, "The path is dark, and here and there difficult to trace." With this warning he went on in front, leading through the dark entrance.

Albert, whose imagination was on the stretch, had expected to be introduced to a low cavern, short and narrow, like the dwelling of wild beasts, such as he had seen about the forests of his own country; but what was his astonishment, when he entered an immense natural cavern, resembling the lofty halls of a subterranean palace! He had heard in his boyhood, from a man-servant whose great-grandfather had been prisoner in Palestine, a story, which had been handed down from generation to generation in his family, of a boy who had been enticed by the arts of a wicked magician into a palace under ground, which surpassed everything in magnificence he had ever seen above it, and displayed to his view whatever the bold imagination of the east could fancy of splendour. Golden pillars surmounted by crystal capitals, arched cupolas studded with emeralds and sapphires, walls of diamonds dazzling the eye by their numerous refracting rays, were united in this subterranean habitation of the genii. This story, which had made a deep impression on his youthful imagination, now came to his recollection, and appeared to be realised in what he saw before him. He stopped every moment in fresh surprise, and holding the torch high up, viewed in amazement and wonder the lofty and majestic vaulted arches which continued the whole length of the cavern, sparkling and glittering like thousands of crystals and diamonds. But his astonishment was still more excited when his leader, turning to the left, conducted him into a spacious grotto, which fancy might figure to itself the magnificent saloon of the subterranean palace.

The fifer could not help remarking the powerful impression which this wonder of nature made on the mind of the young man. He took his torch from him, and mounting a high jutting rock, illumined more effectually the greatest part of the grotto.