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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Otto of the Silver Hand, by Howard Pyle
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: Otto of the Silver Hand
+
+Author: Howard Pyle
+
+Release Date: October, 2001 [eBook #2865]
+[Most recently updated: October 28, 2023]
+
+Language: English
+
+Produced by: Angus Christian and David Widger
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OTTO OF THE SILVER HAND ***
+
+
+
+
+OTTO OF THE SILVER HAND
+
+By Howard Pyle
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+     I.    The Dragon’s House,
+     II.   How the Baron Went Forth to Shear,
+     III.  How the Baron Came Home Shorn,
+     IV.   The White Cross on the Hill,
+     V.    How Otto Dwelt at St. Michaelsburg,
+     VI.   How Otto Lived in the Dragon’s House,
+     VII.  The Red Cock Crows on Drachenhausen,
+     VIII. In the House of the Dragon Scorner,
+     IX.   How One-eyed Hans Came to Trutz-Drachen,
+     X.    How Hans Brought Terror to the Kitchen,
+     XI.   How Otto was Saved,
+     XII.  A Ride for Life,
+     XIII. How Baron Conrad Held the Bridge,
+     XIV.  How Otto Saw the Great Emperor,
+
+
+
+
+FOREWORD.
+
+Between the far away past history of the world, and that which lies near
+to us; in the time when the wisdom of the ancient times was dead and
+had passed away, and our own days of light had not yet come, there lay a
+great black gulf in human history, a gulf of ignorance, of superstition,
+of cruelty, and of wickedness.
+
+That time we call the dark or middle ages.
+
+Few records remain to us of that dreadful period in our world’s history,
+and we only know of it through broken and disjointed fragments that have
+been handed down to us through the generations.
+
+Yet, though the world’s life then was so wicked and black, there yet
+remained a few good men and women here and there (mostly in peaceful
+and quiet monasteries, far from the thunder and the glare of the worlds
+bloody battle), who knew the right and the truth and lived according to
+what they knew; who preserved and tenderly cared for the truths that the
+dear Christ taught, and lived and died for in Palestine so long ago.
+
+This tale that I am about to tell is of a little boy who lived and
+suffered in those dark middle ages; of how he saw both the good and the
+bad of men, and of how, by gentleness and love and not by strife and
+hatred, he came at last to stand above other men and to be looked up to
+by all. And should you follow the story to the end, I hope you may find
+it a pleasure, as I have done, to ramble through those dark ancient
+castles, to lie with little Otto and Brother John in the high
+belfry-tower, or to sit with them in the peaceful quiet of the sunny
+old monastery garden, for, of all the story, I love best those early
+peaceful years that little Otto spent in the dear old White Cross on the
+Hill.
+
+Poor little Otto’s life was a stony and a thorny pathway, and it is well
+for all of us nowadays that we walk it in fancy and not in truth.
+
+
+
+
+I. The Dragon’s House.
+
+Up from the gray rocks, rising sheer and bold and bare, stood the walls
+and towers of Castle Drachenhausen. A great gate-way, with a heavy
+iron-pointed portcullis hanging suspended in the dim arch above, yawned
+blackly upon the bascule or falling drawbridge that spanned a chasm
+between the blank stone walls and the roadway that ran winding down the
+steep rocky slope to the little valley just beneath. There in the lap of
+the hills around stood the wretched straw-thatched huts of the peasants
+belonging to the castle--miserable serfs who, half timid, half fierce,
+tilled their poor patches of ground, wrenching from the hard soil barely
+enough to keep body and soul together. Among those vile hovels played
+the little children like foxes about their dens, their wild, fierce eyes
+peering out from under a mat of tangled yellow hair.
+
+Beyond these squalid huts lay the rushing, foaming river, spanned by a
+high, rude, stone bridge where the road from the castle crossed it, and
+beyond the river stretched the great, black forest, within whose gloomy
+depths the savage wild beasts made their lair, and where in winter time
+the howling wolves coursed their flying prey across the moonlit snow and
+under the net-work of the black shadows from the naked boughs above.
+
+The watchman in the cold, windy bartizan or watch-tower that clung to
+the gray walls above the castle gateway, looked from his narrow window,
+where the wind piped and hummed, across the tree-tops that rolled in
+endless billows of green, over hill and over valley to the blue and
+distant slope of the Keiserberg, where, on the mountain side, glimmered
+far away the walls of Castle Trutz-Drachen.
+
+Within the massive stone walls through which the gaping gateway led,
+three great cheerless brick buildings, so forbidding that even the
+yellow sunlight could not light them into brightness, looked down, with
+row upon row of windows, upon three sides of the bleak, stone courtyard.
+Back of and above them clustered a jumble of other buildings, tower and
+turret, one high-peaked roof overtopping another.
+
+The great house in the centre was the Baron’s Hall, the part to the left
+was called the Roderhausen; between the two stood a huge square pile,
+rising dizzily up into the clear air high above the rest--the great
+Melchior Tower.
+
+At the top clustered a jumble of buildings hanging high aloft in the
+windy space; a crooked wooden belfry, a tall, narrow watch-tower, and a
+rude wooden house that clung partly to the roof of the great tower and
+partly to the walls.
+
+From the chimney of this crazy hut a thin thread of smoke would now and
+then rise into the air, for there were folk living far up in that empty,
+airy desert, and oftentimes wild, uncouth little children were seen
+playing on the edge of the dizzy height, or sitting with their bare
+legs hanging down over the sheer depths, as they gazed below at what was
+going on in the court-yard. There they sat, just as little children in
+the town might sit upon their father’s door-step; and as the sparrows
+might fly around the feet of the little town children, so the circling
+flocks of rooks and daws flew around the feet of these air-born
+creatures.
+
+It was Schwartz Carl and his wife and little ones who lived far up there
+in the Melchior Tower, for it overlooked the top of the hill behind the
+castle and so down into the valley upon the further side. There, day
+after day, Schwartz Carl kept watch upon the gray road that ran like a
+ribbon through the valley, from the rich town of Gruenstaldt to the rich
+town of Staffenburgen, where passed merchant caravans from the one to
+the other--for the lord of Drachenhausen was a robber baron.
+
+Dong! Dong! The great alarm bell would suddenly ring out from the belfry
+high up upon the Melchior Tower. Dong! Dong! Till the rooks and daws
+whirled clamoring and screaming. Dong! Dong! Till the fierce wolf-hounds
+in the rocky kennels behind the castle stables howled dismally in
+answer. Dong! Dong!--Dong! Dong!
+
+Then would follow a great noise and uproar and hurry in the castle
+court-yard below; men shouting and calling to one another, the ringing
+of armor, and the clatter of horses’ hoofs upon the hard stone. With the
+creaking and groaning of the windlass the iron-pointed portcullis would
+be slowly raised, and with a clank and rattle and clash of iron chains
+the drawbridge would fall crashing. Then over it would thunder horse and
+man, clattering away down the winding, stony pathway, until the great
+forest would swallow them, and they would be gone.
+
+Then for a while peace would fall upon the castle courtyard, the cock
+would crow, the cook would scold a lazy maid, and Gretchen, leaning out
+of a window, would sing a snatch of a song, just as though it were a
+peaceful farm-house, instead of a den of robbers.
+
+Maybe it would be evening before the men would return once more. Perhaps
+one would have a bloody cloth bound about his head, perhaps one would
+carry his arm in a sling; perhaps one--maybe more than one--would be
+left behind, never to return again, and soon forgotten by all excepting
+some poor woman who would weep silently in the loneliness of her daily
+work.
+
+Nearly always the adventurers would bring back with them pack-horses
+laden with bales of goods. Sometimes, besides these, they would return
+with a poor soul, his hands tied behind his back and his feet beneath
+the horse’s body, his fur cloak and his flat cap wofully awry. A while
+he would disappear in some gloomy cell of the dungeon-keep, until an
+envoy would come from the town with a fat purse, when his ransom would
+be paid, the dungeon would disgorge him, and he would be allowed to go
+upon his way again.
+
+One man always rode beside Baron Conrad in his expeditions and
+adventures—a short, deep-chested, broad-shouldered man, with sinewy arms
+so long that when he stood his hands hung nearly to his knees.
+
+His coarse, close-clipped hair came so low upon his brow that only a
+strip of forehead showed between it and his bushy, black eyebrows. One
+eye was blind; the other twinkled and gleamed like a spark under the
+penthouse of his brows. Many folk said that the one-eyed Hans had drunk
+beer with the Hill-man, who had given him the strength of ten, for he
+could bend an iron spit like a hazel twig, and could lift a barrel of
+wine from the floor to his head as easily as though it were a basket of
+eggs.
+
+As for the one-eyed Hans he never said that he had not drunk beer with
+the Hill-man, for he liked the credit that such reports gave him with
+the other folk. And so, like a half savage mastiff, faithful to death
+to his master, but to him alone, he went his sullen way and lived his
+sullen life within the castle walls, half respected, half feared by the
+other inmates, for it was dangerous trifling with the one-eyed Hans.
+
+
+
+
+II. How the Baron went Forth to Shear.
+
+Baron Conrad and Baroness Matilda sat together at their morning meal;
+below their raised seats stretched the long, heavy wooden table, loaded
+with coarse food—black bread, boiled cabbage, bacon, eggs, a great
+chine from a wild boar, sausages, such as we eat nowadays, and flagons
+and jars of beer and wine. Along the board sat ranged in the order of
+the household the followers and retainers. Four or five slatternly women
+and girls served the others as they fed noisily at the table, moving
+here and there behind the men with wooden or pewter dishes of food, now
+and then laughing at the jests that passed or joining in the talk. A
+huge fire blazed and crackled and roared in the great open fireplace,
+before which were stretched two fierce, shaggy, wolfish-looking hounds.
+Outside, the rain beat upon the roof or ran trickling from the eaves,
+and every now and then a chill draught of wind would breathe through the
+open windows of the great black dining-hall and set the fire roaring.
+
+Along the dull-gray wall of stone hung pieces of armor, and swords and
+lances, and great branching antlers of the stag. Overhead arched the
+rude, heavy, oaken beams, blackened with age and smoke, and underfoot
+was a chill pavement of stone.
+
+Upon Baron Conrad’s shoulder leaned the pale, slender, yellow-haired
+Baroness, the only one in all the world with whom the fierce lord of
+Drachenhausen softened to gentleness, the only one upon whom his savage
+brows looked kindly, and to whom his harsh voice softened with love.
+
+The Baroness was talking to her husband in a low voice, as he looked
+down into her pale face, with its gentle blue eyes.
+
+“And wilt thou not, then,” said she, “do that one thing for me?”
+
+“Nay,” he growled, in his deep voice, “I cannot promise thee never more
+to attack the towns-people in the valley over yonder. How else could I
+live an’ I did not take from the fat town hogs to fill our own larder?”
+
+“Nay,” said the Baroness, “thou couldst live as some others do, for all
+do not rob the burgher folk as thou dost. Alas! mishap will come upon
+thee some day, and if thou shouldst be slain, what then would come of
+me?”
+
+“Prut,” said the Baron, “thy foolish fears” But he laid his rough, hairy
+hand softly upon the Baroness’ head and stroked her yellow hair.
+
+“For my sake, Conrad,” whispered the Baroness.
+
+A pause followed. The Baron sat looking thoughtfully down into the
+Baroness’ face. A moment more, and he might have promised what she
+besought; a moment more, and he might have been saved all the bitter
+trouble that was to follow. But it was not to be.
+
+Suddenly a harsh sound broke the quietness of all into a confusion of
+noises. Dong! Dong!--it was the great alarm-bell from Melchior’s Tower.
+
+The Baron started at the sound. He sat for a moment or two with his hand
+clinched upon the arm of his seat as though about to rise, then he sunk
+back into his chair again.
+
+All the others had risen tumultuously from the table, and now stood
+looking at him, awaiting his orders.
+
+“For my sake, Conrad,” said the Baroness again.
+
+Dong! Dong! rang the alarm-bell. The Baron sat with his eyes bent upon
+the floor, scowling blackly.
+
+The Baroness took his hand in both of hers. “For my sake,” she pleaded,
+and the tears filled her blue eyes as she looked up at him, “do not go
+this time.”
+
+From the courtyard without came the sound of horses’ hoofs clashing
+against the stone pavement, and those in the hall stood watching and
+wondering at this strange delay of the Lord Baron. Just then the door
+opened and one came pushing past the rest; it was the one-eyed Hans.
+He came straight to where the Baron sat, and, leaning over, whispered
+something into his master’s ear.
+
+“For my sake,” implored the Baroness again; but the scale was turned.
+The Baron pushed back his chair heavily and rose to his feet. “Forward!”
+ he roared, in a voice of thunder, and a great shout went up in answer as
+he strode clanking down the hall and out of the open door.
+
+The Baroness covered her face with her hands and wept.
+
+“Never mind, little bird,” said old Ursela, the nurse, soothingly; “he
+will come back to thee again as he has come back to thee before.”
+
+But the poor young Baroness continued weeping with her face buried in
+her hands, because he had not done that thing she had asked.
+
+A white young face framed in yellow hair looked out into the courtyard
+from a window above; but if Baron Conrad of Drachenhausen saw it from
+beneath the bars of his shining helmet, he made no sign.
+
+“Forward,” he cried again.
+
+Down thundered the drawbridge, and away they rode with clashing hoofs
+and ringing armor through the gray shroud of drilling rain.
+
+The day had passed and the evening had come, and the Baroness and her
+women sat beside a roaring fire. All were chattering and talking and
+laughing but two--the fair young Baroness and old Ursela; the one sat
+listening, listening, listening, the other sat with her chin resting in
+the palm of her hand, silently watching her young mistress. The night
+was falling gray and chill, when suddenly the clear notes of a bugle
+rang from without the castle walls. The young Baroness started, and the
+rosy light flashed up into her pale cheeks.
+
+“Yes, good,” said old Ursela; “the red fox has come back to his den
+again, and I warrant he brings a fat town goose in his mouth; now we’ll
+have fine clothes to wear, and thou another gold chain to hang about thy
+pretty neck.”
+
+The young Baroness laughed merrily at the old woman’s speech. “This
+time,” said she, “I will choose a string of pearls like that one my aunt
+used to wear, and which I had about my neck when Conrad first saw me.”
+
+Minute after minute passed; the Baroness sat nervously playing with a
+bracelet of golden beads about her wrist. “How long he stays,” said she.
+
+“Yes,” said Ursela; “but it is not cousin wish that holds him by the
+coat.”
+
+As she spoke, a door banged in the passageway without, and the ring of
+iron footsteps sounded upon the stone floor. Clank! Clank! Clank!
+
+The Baroness rose to her feet, her face all alight. The door opened;
+then the flush of joy faded away and the face grew white, white, white.
+One hand clutched the back of the bench whereon she had been sitting,
+the other hand pressed tightly against her side.
+
+It was Hans the one-eyed who stood in the doorway, and black trouble sat
+on his brow; all were looking at him waiting.
+
+“Conrad,” whispered the Baroness, at last. “Where is Conrad? Where is
+your master?” and even her lips were white as she spoke.
+
+The one-eyed Hans said nothing.
+
+Just then came the noise of men s voices in the corridor and the shuffle
+and scuffle of feet carrying a heavy load. Nearer and nearer they came,
+and one-eyed Hans stood aside. Six men came struggling through the
+doorway, carrying a litter, and on the litter lay the great Baron
+Conrad. The flaming torch thrust into the iron bracket against the wall
+flashed up with the draught of air from the open door, and the light
+fell upon the white face and the closed eyes, and showed upon his body
+armor a great red stain that was not the stain of rust.
+
+Suddenly Ursela cried out in a sharp, shrill voice, “Catch her, she
+falls!”
+
+It was the Baroness.
+
+Then the old crone turned fiercely upon the one-eyed Hans. “Thou fool!”
+ she cried, “why didst thou bring him here? Thou hast killed thy lady!”
+
+“I did not know,” said the one-eyed Hans, stupidly.
+
+
+
+
+III. How the Baron came Home Shorn.
+
+But Baron Conrad was not dead. For days he lay upon his hard bed, now
+muttering incoherent words beneath his red beard, now raving fiercely
+with the fever of his wound. But one day he woke again to the things
+about him.
+
+He turned his head first to the one side and then to the other; there
+sat Schwartz Carl and the one-eyed Hans. Two or three other retainers
+stood by a great window that looked out into the courtyard beneath,
+jesting and laughing together in low tones, and one lay upon the heavy
+oaken bench that stood along by the wall snoring in his sleep.
+
+“Where is your lady?” said the Baron, presently; “and why is she not
+with me at this time?”
+
+The man that lay upon the bench started up at the sound of his voice,
+and those at the window came hurrying to his bedside. But Schwartz Carl
+and the one-eyed Hans looked at one another, and neither of them spoke.
+The Baron saw the look and in it read a certain meaning that brought
+him to his elbow, though only to sink back upon his pillow again with a
+groan.
+
+“Why do you not answer me?” said he at last, in a hollow voice; then
+to the one-eyed Hans, “Hast no tongue, fool, that thou standest gaping
+there like a fish? Answer me, where is thy mistress?”
+
+“I--I do not know,” stammered poor Hans.
+
+For a while the Baron lay silently looking from one face to the other,
+then he spoke again. “How long have I been lying here?” said he.
+
+“A sennight, my lord,” said Master Rudolph, the steward, who had come
+into the room and who now stood among the others at the bedside.
+
+“A sennight,” repeated the Baron, in a low voice, and then to Master
+Rudolph, “And has the Baroness been often beside me in that time?”
+ Master Rudolph hesitated. “Answer me,” said the Baron, harshly.
+
+“Not--not often,” said Master Rudolph, hesitatingly.
+
+The Baron lay silent for a long time. At last he passed his hands over
+his face and held them there for a minute, then of a sudden, before
+anyone knew what he was about to do, he rose upon his elbow and then sat
+upright upon the bed. The green wound broke out afresh and a dark red
+spot grew and spread upon the linen wrappings; his face was drawn and
+haggard with the pain of his moving, and his eyes wild and bloodshot.
+Great drops of sweat gathered and stood upon his forehead as he sat
+there swaying slightly from side to side.
+
+“My shoes,” said he, hoarsely.
+
+Master Rudolph stepped forward. “But, my Lord Baron,” he began and then
+stopped short, for the Baron shot him such a look that his tongue stood
+still in his head.
+
+Hans saw that look out of his one eye. Down he dropped upon his knees
+and, fumbling under the bed, brought forth a pair of soft leathern
+shoes, which he slipped upon the Baron’s feet and then laced the thongs
+above the instep.
+
+“Your shoulder,” said the Baron. He rose slowly to his feet, gripping
+Hans in the stress of his agony until the fellow winced again. For a
+moment he stood as though gathering strength, then doggedly started
+forth upon that quest which he had set upon himself.
+
+At the door he stopped for a moment as though overcome by his weakness,
+and there Master Nicholas, his cousin, met him; for the steward had sent
+one of the retainers to tell the old man what the Baron was about to do.
+
+“Thou must go back again, Conrad,” said Master Nicholas; “thou art not
+fit to be abroad.”
+
+The Baron answered him never a word, but he glared at him from out of
+his bloodshot eyes and ground his teeth together. Then he started forth
+again upon his way.
+
+Down the long hall he went, slowly and laboriously, the others following
+silently behind him, then up the steep winding stairs, step by step,
+now and then stopping to lean against the wall. So he reached a long
+and gloomy passageway lit only by the light of a little window at the
+further end.
+
+He stopped at the door of one of the rooms that opened into this
+passage-way, stood for a moment, then he pushed it open.
+
+No one was within but old Ursela, who sat crooning over a fire with a
+bundle upon her knees. She did not see the Baron or know that he was
+there.
+
+“Where is your lady?” said he, in a hollow voice.
+
+Then the old nurse looked up with a start. “Jesu bless us,” cried she,
+and crossed herself.
+
+“Where is your lady?” said the Baron again, in the same hoarse voice;
+and then, not waiting for an answer, “Is she dead?”
+
+The old woman looked at him for a minute blinking her watery eyes, and
+then suddenly broke into a shrill, long-drawn wail. The Baron needed to
+hear no more.
+
+As though in answer to the old woman’s cry, a thin piping complaint came
+from the bundle in her lap.
+
+At the sound the red blood flashed up into the Baron’s face. “What
+is that you have there?” said he, pointing to the bundle upon the old
+woman’s knees.
+
+She drew back the coverings and there lay a poor, weak, little baby,
+that once again raised its faint reedy pipe.
+
+“It is your son,” said Ursela, “that the dear Baroness left behind her
+when the holy angels took her to Paradise. She blessed him and called
+him Otto before she left us.”
+
+
+
+
+IV. The White Cross on the Hill.
+
+Here the glassy waters of the River Rhine, holding upon its bosom a
+mimic picture of the blue sky and white clouds floating above, runs
+smoothly around a jutting point of land, St. Michaelsburg, rising from
+the reedy banks of the stream, sweeps up with a smooth swell until
+it cuts sharp and clear against the sky. Stubby vineyards covered its
+earthy breast, and field and garden and orchard crowned its brow, where
+lay the Monastery of St. Michaelsburg--“The White Cross on the Hill.”
+ There within the white walls, where the warm yellow sunlight slept, all
+was peaceful quietness, broken only now and then by the crowing of
+the cock or the clamorous cackle of a hen, the lowing of kine or the
+bleating of goats, a solitary voice in prayer, the faint accord of
+distant singing, or the resonant toll of the monastery bell from the
+high-peaked belfry that overlooked the hill and valley and the smooth,
+far-winding stream. No other sounds broke the stillness, for in this
+peaceful haven was never heard the clash of armor, the ring of iron-shod
+hoofs, or the hoarse call to arms.
+
+All men were not wicked and cruel and fierce in that dark, far-away age;
+all were not robbers and terror-spreading tyrants, even in that time
+when men’s hands were against their neighbors, and war and rapine dwelt
+in place of peace and justice.
+
+Abbot Otto, of St. Michaelsburg, was a gentle, patient, pale-faced old
+man; his white hands were soft and smooth, and no one would have thought
+that they could have known the harsh touch of sword-hilt and lance. And
+yet, in the days of the Emperor Frederick--the grandson of the great
+Red-beard--no one stood higher in the prowess of arms than he. But all
+at once--for why, no man could tell--a change came over him, and in the
+flower of his youth and fame and growing power he gave up everything
+in life and entered the quiet sanctuary of that white monastery on the
+hill-side, so far away from the tumult and the conflict of the world in
+which he had lived.
+
+Some said that it was because the lady he had loved had loved his
+brother, and that when they were married Otto of Wolbergen had left the
+church with a broken heart.
+
+But such stories are old songs that have been sung before.
+
+Clatter! clatter! Jingle! jingle! It was a full-armed knight that came
+riding up the steep hill road that wound from left to right and right to
+left amid the vineyards on the slopes of St. Michaelsburg. Polished helm
+and corselet blazed in the noon sunlight, for no knight in those days
+dared to ride the roads except in full armor. In front of him the
+solitary knight carried a bundle wrapped in the folds of his coarse gray
+cloak.
+
+It was a sorely sick man that rode up the heights of St. Michaelsburg.
+His head hung upon his breast through the faintness of weariness and
+pain; for it was the Baron Conrad.
+
+He had left his bed of sickness that morning, had saddled his horse in
+the gray dawn with his own hands, and had ridden away into the misty
+twilight of the forest without the knowledge of anyone excepting the
+porter, who, winking and blinking in the bewilderment of his broken
+slumber, had opened the gates to the sick man, hardly knowing what he
+was doing, until he beheld his master far away, clattering down the
+steep bridle-path.
+
+Eight leagues had he ridden that day with neither a stop nor a stay; but
+now at last the end of his journey had come, and he drew rein under the
+shade of the great wooden gateway of St. Michaelsburg.
+
+He reached up to the knotted rope and gave it a pull, and from within
+sounded the answering ring of the porter’s bell. By and by a little
+wicket opened in the great wooden portals, and the gentle, wrinkled face
+of old Brother Benedict, the porter, peeped out at the strange iron-clad
+visitor and the great black war-horse, streaked and wet with the sweat
+of the journey, flecked and dappled with flakes of foam. A few words
+passed between them, and then the little window was closed again; and
+within, the shuffling pat of the sandalled feet sounded fainter and
+fainter, as Brother Benedict bore the message from Baron Conrad to Abbot
+Otto, and the mail-clad figure was left alone, sitting there as silent
+as a statue.
+
+By and by the footsteps sounded again; there came a noise of clattering
+chains and the rattle of the key in the lock, and the rasping of the
+bolts dragged back. Then the gate swung slowly open, and Baron Conrad
+rode into the shelter of the White Cross, and as the hoofs of his
+war-horse clashed upon the stones of the courtyard within, the wooden
+gate swung slowly to behind him.
+
+Abbot Otto stood by the table when Baron Conrad entered the high-vaulted
+room from the farther end. The light from the oriel window behind the
+old man shed broken rays of light upon him, and seemed to frame his thin
+gray hairs with a golden glory. His white, delicate hand rested upon the
+table beside him, and upon some sheets of parchment covered with rows of
+ancient Greek writing which he had been engaged in deciphering.
+
+Clank! clank! clank! Baron Conrad strode across the stone floor, and
+then stopped short in front of the good old man.
+
+“What dost thou seek here, my son?” said the Abbot.
+
+“I seek sanctuary for my son and thy brother’s grandson,” said the Baron
+Conrad, and he flung back the folds of his cloak and showed the face of
+the sleeping babe.
+
+For a while the Abbot said nothing, but stood gazing dreamily at
+the baby. After a while he looked up. “And the child’s mother,” said
+he--“what hath she to say at this?”
+
+“She hath naught to say,” said Baron Conrad, hoarsely, and then stopped
+short in his speech. “She is dead,” said he, at last, in a husky voice,
+“and is with God’s angels in paradise.”
+
+The Abbot looked intently in the Baron’s face. “So!” said he, under his
+breath, and then for the first time noticed how white and drawn was the
+Baron’s face. “Art sick thyself?” he asked.
+
+“Ay,” said the Baron, “I have come from death’s door. But that is no
+matter. Wilt thou take this little babe into sanctuary? My house is a
+vile, rough place, and not fit for such as he, and his mother with the
+blessed saints in heaven.” And once more Conrad of Drachenhausen’s face
+began twitching with the pain of his thoughts.
+
+“Yes,” said the old man, gently, “he shall live here,” and he stretched
+out his hands and took the babe. “Would,” said he, “that all the little
+children in these dark times might be thus brought to the house of God,
+and there learn mercy and peace, instead of rapine and war.”
+
+For a while he stood looking down in silence at the baby in his arms,
+but with his mind far away upon other things. At last he roused himself
+with a start. “And thou,” said he to the Baron Conrad--“hath not thy
+heart been chastened and softened by this? Surely thou wilt not go back
+to thy old life of rapine and extortion?”
+
+“Nay,” said Baron Conrad, gruffly, “I will rob the city swine no longer,
+for that was the last thing that my dear one asked of me.”
+
+The old Abbot’s face lit up with a smile. “I am right glad that thy
+heart was softened, and that thou art willing at last to cease from war
+and violence.”
+
+“Nay,” cried the Baron, roughly, “I said nothing of ceasing from war. By
+heaven, no! I will have revenge!” And he clashed his iron foot upon the
+floor and clinched his fists and ground his teeth together. “Listen,”
+ said he, “and I will tell thee how my troubles happened. A fortnight ago
+I rode out upon an expedition against a caravan of fat burghers in the
+valley of Gruenhoffen. They outnumbered us many to one, but city swine
+such as they are not of the stuff to stand against our kind for a long
+time. Nevertheless, while the men-at-arms who guarded the caravan were
+staying us with pike and cross-bow from behind a tree which they had
+felled in front of a high bridge the others had driven the pack-horses
+off, so that by the time we had forced the bridge they were a league
+or more away. We pushed after them as hard as we were able, but when we
+came up with them we found that they had been joined by Baron Frederick
+of Trutz-Drachen, to whom for three years and more the burghers of
+Gruenstadt have been paying a tribute for his protection against others.
+Then again they made a stand, and this time the Baron Frederick himself
+was with them. But though the dogs fought well, we were forcing them
+back, and might have got the better of them, had not my horse stumbled
+upon a sloping stone, and so fell and rolled over upon me. While I lay
+there with my horse upon me, Baron Frederick ran me down with his lance,
+and gave me that foul wound that came so near to slaying me--and did
+slay my dear wife. Nevertheless, my men were able to bring me out from
+that press and away, and we had bitten the Trutz-Drachen dogs so deep
+that they were too sore to follow us, and so let us go our way in peace.
+But when those fools of mine brought me to my castle they bore me lying
+upon a litter to my wife’s chamber. There she beheld me, and, thinking
+me dead, swooned a death-swoon, so that she only lived long enough to
+bless her new-born babe and name it Otto, for you, her father’s brother.
+But, by heavens! I will have revenge, root and branch, upon that vile
+tribe, the Roderburgs of Trutz-Drachen. Their great-grandsire built that
+castle in scorn of Baron Casper in the old days; their grandsire slew my
+father’s grandsire; Baron Nicholas slew two of our kindred; and now this
+Baron Frederick gives me that foul wound and kills my dear wife through
+my body.” Here the Baron stopped short; then of a sudden, shaking his
+fist above his head, he cried out in his hoarse voice: “I swear by all
+the saints in heaven, either the red cock shall crow over the roof of
+Trutz-Drachen or else it shall crow over my house! The black dog shall
+sit on Baron Frederick’s shoulders or else he shall sit on mine!” Again
+he stopped, and fixing his blazing eyes upon the old man, “Hearest thou
+that, priest?” said he, and broke into a great boisterous laugh.
+
+Abbot Otto sighed heavily, but he tried no further to persuade the other
+into different thoughts.
+
+“Thou art wounded,” said he, at last, in a gentle voice; “at least stay
+here with us until thou art healed.”
+
+“Nay,” said the Baron, roughly, “I will tarry no longer than to hear
+thee promise to care for my child.”
+
+“I promise,” said the Abbot; “but lay aside thy armor, and rest.”
+
+“Nay,” said the Baron, “I go back again to-day.”
+
+At this the Abbot cried out in amazement: “Sure thou, wounded man, would
+not take that long journey without a due stay for resting! Think! Night
+will be upon thee before thou canst reach home again, and the forests
+are beset with wolves.”
+
+The Baron laughed. “Those are not the wolves I fear,” said he. “Urge me
+no further, I must return to-night; yet if thou hast a mind to do me a
+kindness thou canst give me some food to eat and a flask of your golden
+Michaelsburg; beyond these, I ask no further favor of any man, be he
+priest or layman.”
+
+“What comfort I can give thee thou shalt have,” said the Abbot, in his
+patient voice, and so left the room to give the needful orders, bearing
+the babe with him.
+
+
+
+
+V. How Otto Dwelt at St. Michaelsburg.
+
+So the poor, little, motherless waif lived among the old monks at the
+White Cross on the hill, thriving and growing apace until he had reached
+eleven or twelve years of age; a slender, fair-haired little fellow,
+with a strange, quiet serious manner.
+
+“Poor little child!” Old Brother Benedict would sometimes say to the
+others, “poor little child! The troubles in which he was born must have
+broken his wits like a glass cup. What think ye he said to me to-day?
+‘Dear Brother Benedict,’ said he, ‘dost thou shave the hair off of the
+top of thy head so that the dear God may see thy thoughts the better?’
+Think of that now!” and the good old man shook with silent laughter.
+
+When such talk came to the good Father Abbot’s ears, he smiled quietly
+to himself. “It may be,” said he, “that the wisdom of little children
+flies higher than our heavy wits can follow.”
+
+At least Otto was not slow with his studies, and Brother Emmanuel,
+who taught him his lessons, said more than once that, if his wits were
+cracked in other ways, they were sound enough in Latin.
+
+Otto, in a quaint, simple way which belonged to him, was gentle
+and obedient to all. But there was one among the Brethren of St.
+Michaelsburg whom he loved far above all the rest--Brother John, a poor
+half-witted fellow, of some twenty-five or thirty years of age. When
+a very little child, he had fallen from his nurse’s arms and hurt his
+head, and as he grew up into boyhood, and showed that his wits had been
+addled by his fall, his family knew not what else to do with him, and
+so sent him off to the Monastery of St. Michaelsburg, where he lived
+his simple, witless life upon a sort of sufferance, as though he were a
+tame, harmless animal.
+
+While Otto was still a little baby, he had been given into Brother
+John’s care. Thereafter, and until Otto had grown old enough to care for
+himself, poor Brother John never left his little charge, night or day.
+Oftentimes the good Father Abbot, coming into the garden, where he loved
+to walk alone in his meditations, would find the poor, simple Brother
+sitting under the shade of the pear-tree, close to the bee-hives,
+rocking the little baby in his arms, singing strange, crazy songs to
+it, and gazing far away into the blue, empty sky with his curious, pale
+eyes.
+
+Although, as Otto grew up into boyhood, his lessons and his tasks
+separated him from Brother John, the bond between them seemed to grow
+stronger rather than weaker. During the hours that Otto had for his own
+they were scarcely ever apart. Down in the vineyard, where the monks
+were gathering the grapes for the vintage, in the garden, or in the
+fields, the two were always seen together, either wandering hand in
+hand, or seated in some shady nook or corner.
+
+But most of all they loved to lie up in the airy wooden belfry; the
+great gaping bell hanging darkly above them, the mouldering cross-beams
+glimmering far up under the dim shadows of the roof, where dwelt a great
+brown owl that, unfrightened at their familiar presence, stared down at
+them with his round, solemn eyes. Below them stretched the white walls
+of the garden, beyond them the vineyard, and beyond that again the far
+shining river, that seemed to Otto’s mind to lead into wonder-land.
+There the two would lie upon the belfry floor by the hour, talking
+together of the strangest things.
+
+“I saw the dear Angel Gabriel again yester morn,” said Brother John.
+
+“So!” says Otto, seriously; “and where was that?”
+
+“It was out in the garden, in the old apple-tree,” said Brother John. “I
+was walking there, and my wits were running around in the grass like a
+mouse. What heard I but a wonderful sound of singing, and it was like
+the hum of a great bee, only sweeter than honey. So I looked up into the
+tree, and there I saw two sparks. I thought at first that they were
+two stars that had fallen out of heaven; but what think you they were,
+little child?”
+
+“I do not know,” said Otto, breathlessly.
+
+“They were angel’s eyes,” said Brother John; and he smiled in the
+strangest way, as he gazed up into the blue sky. “So I looked at the two
+sparks and felt happy, as one does in spring time when the cold weather
+is gone, and the warm sun shines, and the cuckoo sings again. Then,
+by-and-by, I saw the face to which the eyes belonged. First, it shone
+white and thin like the moon in the daylight; but it grew brighter and
+brighter, until it hurt one’s eyes to look at it, as though it had been
+the blessed sun itself. Angel Gabriel’s hand was as white as silver, and
+in it he held a green bough with blossoms, like those that grow on the
+thorn bush. As for his robe, it was all of one piece, and finer than the
+Father Abbot’s linen, and shone beside like the sunlight on pure snow.
+So I knew from all these things that it was the blessed Angel Gabriel.”
+
+“‘What do they say about this tree, Brother John?’ said he to me.
+
+“‘They say it is dying, my Lord Angel,’ said I, ‘and that the gardener
+will bring a sharp axe and cut it down.’
+
+“‘And what dost thou say about it, Brother John?’ said he.
+
+“‘I also say yes, and that it is dying,’ said I.
+
+“At that he smiled until his face shone so bright that I had to shut my
+eyes.
+
+“‘Now I begin to believe, Brother John, that thou art as foolish as men
+say,’ said he. ‘Look, till I show thee.’ And thereat I opened mine eyes
+again.
+
+“Then Angel Gabriel touched the dead branches with the flowery twig that
+he held in his hand, and there was the dead wood all covered with green
+leaves, and fair blossoms and beautiful apples as yellow as gold. Each
+smelling more sweetly than a garden of flowers, and better to the taste
+than white bread and honey.
+
+“‘They are souls of the apples,’ said the good Angel, ‘and they can
+never wither and die.’
+
+“‘Then I’ll tell the gardener that he shall not cut the tree down,’ said
+I.
+
+“‘No, no,’ said the dear Gabriel, ‘that will never do, for if the tree
+is not cut down here on the earth, it can never be planted in paradise.’”
+
+Here Brother John stopped short in his story, and began singing one of
+his crazy songs, as he gazed with his pale eyes far away into nothing at
+all.
+
+“But tell me, Brother John,” said little Otto, in a hushed voice, “what
+else did the good Angel say to thee?”
+
+Brother John stopped short in his song and began looking from right to
+left, and up and down, as though to gather his wits.
+
+“So!” said he, “there was something else that he told me. Tschk! If I
+could but think now. Yes, good! This is it--‘Nothing that has lived,’
+said he, ‘shall ever die, and nothing that has died shall ever live.’”
+
+Otto drew a deep breath. “I would that I might see the beautiful Angel
+Gabriel sometime,” said he; but Brother John was singing again and did
+not seem to hear what he said.
+
+Next to Brother John, the nearest one to the little child was the good
+Abbot Otto, for though he had never seen wonderful things with the eyes
+of his soul, such as Brother John’s had beheld, and so could not tell of
+them, he was yet able to give little Otto another pleasure that no one
+else could give.
+
+He was a great lover of books, the old Abbot, and had under lock and key
+wonderful and beautiful volumes, bound in hog-skin and metal, and with
+covers inlaid with carved ivory, or studded with precious stones. But
+within these covers, beautiful as they were, lay the real wonder of the
+books, like the soul in the body; for there, beside the black letters
+and initials, gay with red and blue and gold, were beautiful pictures
+painted upon the creamy parchment. Saints and Angels, the Blessed Virgin
+with the golden oriole about her head, good St. Joseph, the three Kings;
+the simple Shepherds kneeling in the fields, while Angels with glories
+about their brow called to the poor Peasants from the blue sky above.
+But, most beautiful of all was the picture of the Christ Child lying in
+the manger, with the mild-eyed Kine gazing at him.
+
+Sometimes the old Abbot would unlock the iron-bound chest where these
+treasures lay hidden, and carefully and lovingly brushing the few grains
+of dust from them, would lay them upon the table beside the oriel window
+in front of his little namesake, allowing the little boy freedom to turn
+the leaves as he chose.
+
+Always it was one picture that little Otto sought; the Christ Child in
+the manger, with the Virgin, St. Joseph, the Shepherds, and the Kine.
+And as he would hang breathlessly gazing and gazing upon it, the old
+Abbot would sit watching him with a faint, half-sad smile flickering
+around his thin lips and his pale, narrow face.
+
+It was a pleasant, peaceful life, but by-and-by the end came. Otto was
+now nearly twelve years old.
+
+One bright, clear day, near the hour of noon, little Otto heard the
+porter’s bell sounding below in the court-yard--dong! dong! Brother
+Emmanuel had been appointed as the boy’s instructor, and just then Otto
+was conning his lessons in the good monk’s cell. Nevertheless, at the
+sound of the bell he pricked up his ears and listened, for a visitor was
+a strange matter in that out-of-the-way place, and he wondered who it
+could be. So, while his wits wandered his lessons lagged.
+
+“Postera Phoeba lustrabat lampade terras,” continued Brother Emmanuel,
+inexorably running his horny finger-nail beneath the line, “humentemque
+Aurora polo dimoverat umbram--” the lesson dragged along.
+
+Just then a sandaled footstep sounded without, in the stone corridor,
+and a light tap fell upon Brother Emmanuel’s door. It was Brother
+Ignatius, and the Abbot wished little Otto to come to the refectory.
+
+As they crossed the court-yard Otto stared to see a group of mail-clad
+men-at-arms, some sitting upon their horses, some standing by the
+saddle-bow. “Yonder is the young baron,” he heard one of them say in a
+gruff voice, and thereupon all turned and stared at him.
+
+A stranger was in the refectory, standing beside the good old Abbot,
+while food and wine were being brought and set upon the table for his
+refreshment; a great, tall, broad-shouldered man, beside whom the Abbot
+looked thinner and slighter than ever.
+
+The stranger was clad all in polished and gleaming armor, of plate and
+chain, over which was drawn a loose robe of gray woollen stuff, reaching
+to the knees and bound about the waist by a broad leathern sword-belt.
+Upon his arm he carried a great helmet which he had just removed from
+his head. His face was weather-beaten and rugged, and on lip and chin
+was a wiry, bristling beard; once red, now frosted with white.
+
+Brother Ignatius had bidden Otto to enter, and had then closed the door
+behind him; and now, as the lad walked slowly up the long room, he gazed
+with round, wondering blue eyes at the stranger.
+
+“Dost know who I am, Otto? said the mail-clad knight, in a deep,
+growling voice.
+
+“Methinks you are my father, sir,” said Otto.
+
+“Aye, thou art right,” said Baron Conrad, “and I am glad to see that
+these milk-churning monks have not allowed thee to forget me, and who
+thou art thyself.”
+
+“An’ it please you,” said Otto, “no one churneth milk here but
+Brother Fritz; we be makers of wine and not makers of butter, at St.
+Michaelsburg.”
+
+Baron Conrad broke into a great, loud laugh, but Abbot Otto’s sad and
+thoughtful face lit up with no shadow of an answering smile.
+
+“Conrad,” said he, turning to the other, “again let me urge thee; do
+not take the child hence, his life can never be your life, for he is not
+fitted for it. I had thought,” said he, after a moment’s pause, “I had
+thought that thou hadst meant to consecrate him--this motherless one--to
+the care of the Universal Mother Church.”
+
+“So!” said the Baron, “thou hadst thought that, hadst thou? Thou hadst
+thought that I had intended to deliver over this boy, the last of the
+Vuelphs, to the arms of the Church? What then was to become of our name
+and the glory of our race if it was to end with him in a monastery? No,
+Drachenhausen is the home of the Vuelphs, and there the last of the race
+shall live as his sires have lived before him, holding to his rights by
+the power and the might of his right hand.”
+
+The Abbot turned and looked at the boy, who was gaping in simple
+wide-eyed wonderment from one to the other as they spoke.
+
+“And dost thou think, Conrad,” said the old man, in his gentle, patient
+voice, “that that poor child can maintain his rights by the strength of
+his right hand?”
+
+The Baron’s look followed the Abbot’s, and he said nothing.
+
+In the few seconds of silence that followed, little Otto, in his simple
+mind, was wondering what all this talk portended. Why had his father
+come hither to St. Michaelsburg, lighting up the dim silence of the
+monastery with the flash and ring of his polished armor? Why had he
+talked about churning butter but now, when all the world knew that the
+monks of St. Michaelsburg made wine.
+
+It was Baron Conrad’s deep voice that broke the little pause of silence.
+
+“If you have made a milkmaid of the boy,” he burst out at last, “I thank
+the dear heaven that there is yet time to undo your work and to make a
+man of him.”
+
+The Abbot sighed. “The child is yours, Conrad,” said he, “the will of
+the blessed saints be done. Mayhap if he goes to dwell at Drachenhausen
+he may make you the better instead of you making him the worse.”
+
+Then light came to the darkness of little Otto’s wonderment; he saw what
+all this talk meant and why his father had come hither. He was to leave
+the happy, sunny silence of the dear White Cross, and to go out into
+that great world that he had so often looked down upon from the high
+windy belfry on the steep hillside.
+
+
+
+
+VI. How Otto Lived in the Dragon’s House.
+
+The gates of the Monastery stood wide open, the world lay beyond, and
+all was ready for departure. Baron Conrad and his men-at-arms sat foot
+in stirrup, the milk-white horse that had been brought for Otto stood
+waiting for him beside his father’s great charger.
+
+“Farewell, Otto,” said the good old Abbot, as he stooped and kissed the
+boy’s cheek.
+
+“Farewell,” answered Otto, in his simple, quiet way, and it brought
+a pang to the old man’s heart that the child should seem to grieve so
+little at the leave-taking.
+
+“Farewell, Otto,” said the brethren that stood about, “farewell,
+farewell.”
+
+Then poor brother John came forward and took the boy’s hand, and looked
+up into his face as he sat upon his horse. “We will meet again,” said
+he, with his strange, vacant smile, “but maybe it will be in Paradise,
+and there perhaps they will let us lie in the father’s belfry, and look
+down upon the angels in the court-yard below.”
+
+“Aye,” answered Otto, with an answering smile.
+
+“Forward,” cried the Baron, in a deep voice, and with a clash of hoofs
+and jingle of armor they were gone, and the great wooden gates were shut
+to behind them.
+
+Down the steep winding pathway they rode, and out into the great wide
+world beyond, upon which Otto and brother John had gazed so often from
+the wooden belfry of the White Cross on the hill.
+
+“Hast been taught to ride a horse by the priests up yonder on
+Michaelsburg?” asked the Baron, when they had reached the level road.
+
+“Nay,” said Otto; “we had no horse to ride, but only to bring in the
+harvest or the grapes from the further vineyards to the vintage.”
+
+“Prut,” said the Baron, “methought the abbot would have had enough of
+the blood of old days in his veins to have taught thee what is fitting
+for a knight to know; art not afeared?”
+
+“Nay,” said Otto, with a smile, “I am not afeared.”
+
+“There at least thou showest thyself a Vuelph,” said the grim Baron. But
+perhaps Otto’s thought of fear and Baron Conrad’s thought of fear were
+two very different matters.
+
+The afternoon had passed by the time they had reached the end of their
+journey. Up the steep, stony path they rode to the drawbridge and
+the great gaping gateway of Drachenhausen, where wall and tower and
+battlement looked darker and more forbidding than ever in the gray
+twilight of the coming night. Little Otto looked up with great,
+wondering, awe-struck eyes at this grim new home of his.
+
+The next moment they clattered over the drawbridge that spanned the
+narrow black gulph between the roadway and the wall, and the next were
+past the echoing arch of the great gateway and in the gray gloaming of
+the paved court-yard within.
+
+Otto looked around upon the many faces gathered there to catch the
+first sight of the little baron; hard, rugged faces, seamed and
+weather-beaten; very different from those of the gentle brethren among
+whom he had lived, and it seemed strange to him that there was none
+there whom he should know.
+
+As he climbed the steep, stony steps to the door of the Baron’s house,
+old Ursela came running down to meet him. She flung her withered arms
+around him and hugged him close to her. “My little child,” she cried,
+and then fell to sobbing as though her heart would break.
+
+“Here is someone knoweth me,” thought the little boy.
+
+His new home was all very strange and wonderful to Otto; the armors, the
+trophies, the flags, the long galleries with their ranges of rooms,
+the great hall below with its vaulted roof and its great fireplace of
+grotesquely carved stone, and all the strange people with their lives
+and thoughts so different from what he had been used to know.
+
+And it was a wonderful thing to explore all the strange places in the
+dark old castle; places where it seemed to Otto no one could have ever
+been before.
+
+Once he wandered down a long, dark passageway below the hall, pushed
+open a narrow, iron-bound oaken door, and found himself all at once in
+a strange new land; the gray light, coming in through a range of tall,
+narrow windows, fell upon a row of silent, motionless figures carven in
+stone, knights and ladies in strange armor and dress; each lying upon
+his or her stony couch with clasped hands, and gazing with fixed,
+motionless, stony eyeballs up into the gloomy, vaulted arch above them.
+There lay, in a cold, silent row, all of the Vuelphs who had died since
+the ancient castle had been built.
+
+It was the chapel into which Otto had made his way, now long since
+fallen out of use excepting as a burial place of the race.
+
+At another time he clambered up into the loft under the high peaked
+roof, where lay numberless forgotten things covered with the dim dust
+of years. There a flock of pigeons had made their roost, and flapped
+noisily out into the sunlight when he pushed open the door from below.
+Here he hunted among the mouldering things of the past until, oh, joy
+of joys! in an ancient oaken chest he found a great lot of worm-eaten
+books, that had belonged to some old chaplain of the castle in days gone
+by. They were not precious and beautiful volumes, such as the Father
+Abbot had showed him, but all the same they had their quaint painted
+pictures of the blessed saints and angels.
+
+Again, at another time, going into the court-yard, Otto had found
+the door of Melchior’s tower standing invitingly open, for old Hilda,
+Schwartz Carl’s wife, had come down below upon some business or other.
+
+Then upon the shaky wooden steps Otto ran without waiting for a second
+thought, for he had often gazed at those curious buildings hanging so
+far up in the air, and had wondered what they were like. Round and round
+and up and up Otto climbed, until his head spun. At last he reached
+a landing-stage, and gazing over the edge and down, beheld the stone
+pavement far, far below, lit by a faint glimmer of light that entered
+through the arched doorway. Otto clutched tight hold of the wooden rail,
+he had no thought that he had climbed so far.
+
+Upon the other side of the landing was a window that pierced the thick
+stone walls of the tower; out of the window he looked, and then drew
+suddenly back again with a gasp, for it was through the outer wall he
+peered, and down, down below in the dizzy depths he saw the hard
+gray rocks, where the black swine, looking no larger than ants in the
+distance, fed upon the refuse thrown out over the walls of the castle.
+There lay the moving tree-tops like a billowy green sea, and the coarse
+thatched roofs of the peasant cottages, round which crawled the little
+children like tiny human specks.
+
+Then Otto turned and crept down the stairs, frightened at the height to
+which he had climbed.
+
+At the doorway he met Mother Hilda. “Bless us,” she cried, starting back
+and crossing herself, and then, seeing who it was, ducked him a courtesy
+with as pleasant a smile as her forbidding face, with its little
+deep-set eyes, was able to put upon itself.
+
+Old Ursela seemed nearer to the boy than anyone else about the castle,
+excepting it was his father, and it was a newfound delight to Otto to
+sit beside her and listen to her quaint stories, so different from the
+monkish tales that he had heard and read at the monastery.
+
+But one day it was a tale of a different sort that she told him, and one
+that opened his eyes to what he had never dreamed of before.
+
+The mellow sunlight fell through the window upon old Ursela, as she sat
+in the warmth with her distaff in her hands while Otto lay close to her
+feet upon a bear skin, silently thinking over the strange story of a
+brave knight and a fiery dragon that she had just told him. Suddenly
+Ursela broke the silence.
+
+“Little one,” said she, “thou art wondrously like thy own dear mother;
+didst ever hear how she died?”
+
+“Nay,” said Otto, “but tell me, Ursela, how it was.”
+
+“Tis strange,” said the old woman, “that no one should have told thee
+in all this time.” And then, in her own fashion she related to him the
+story of how his father had set forth upon that expedition in spite of
+all that Otto’s mother had said, beseeching him to abide at home; how he
+had been foully wounded, and how the poor lady had died from her fright
+and grief.
+
+Otto listened with eyes that grew wider and wider, though not all with
+wonder; he no longer lay upon the bear skin, but sat up with his hands
+clasped. For a moment or two after the old woman had ended her story, he
+sat staring silently at her. Then he cried out, in a sharp voice, “And
+is this truth that you tell me, Ursela? and did my father seek to rob
+the towns people of their goods?”
+
+Old Ursela laughed. “Aye,” said she, “that he did and many times. Ah!
+me, those days are all gone now.” And she fetched a deep sigh. “Then we
+lived in plenty and had both silks and linens and velvets besides in the
+store closets and were able to buy good wines and live in plenty upon
+the best. Now we dress in frieze and live upon what we can get, and
+sometimes that is little enough, with nothing better than sour beer to
+drink. But there is one comfort in it all, and that is that our good
+Baron paid back the score he owed the Trutz-Drachen people not only for
+that, but for all that they had done from the very first.”
+
+Thereupon she went on to tell Otto how Baron Conrad had fulfilled the
+pledge of revenge that he had made Abbot Otto, how he had watched day
+after day until one time he had caught the Trutz-Drachen folk,
+with Baron Frederick at their head, in a narrow defile back of the
+Kaiserburg; of the fierce fight that was there fought; of how the
+Roderburgs at last fled, leaving Baron Frederick behind them wounded; of
+how he had kneeled before the Baron Conrad, asking for mercy, and of
+how Baron Conrad had answered, “Aye, thou shalt have such mercy as thou
+deservest,” and had therewith raised his great two-handed sword and laid
+his kneeling enemy dead at one blow.
+
+Poor little Otto had never dreamed that such cruelty and wickedness
+could be. He listened to the old woman’s story with gaping horror, and
+when the last came and she told him, with a smack of her lips, how his
+father had killed his enemy with his own hand, he gave a gasping cry and
+sprang to his feet. Just then the door at the other end of the chamber
+was noisily opened, and Baron Conrad himself strode into the room.
+Otto turned his head, and seeing who it was, gave another cry, loud and
+quavering, and ran to his father and caught him by the hand.
+
+“Oh, father!” he cried, “oh, father! Is it true that thou hast killed a
+man with thy own hand?”
+
+“Aye,” said the Baron, grimly, “it is true enough, and I think me I have
+killed many more than one. But what of that, Otto? Thou must get out of
+those foolish notions that the old monks have taught thee. Here in the
+world it is different from what it is at St. Michaelsburg; here a man
+must either slay or be slain.”
+
+But poor little Otto, with his face hidden in his father’s robe, cried
+as though his heart would break. “Oh, father!” he said, again and again,
+“it cannot be--it cannot be that thou who art so kind to me should have
+killed a man with thine own hands.” Then: “I wish that I were back
+in the monastery again; I am afraid out here in the great wide world;
+perhaps somebody may kill me, for I am only a weak little boy and could
+not save my own life if they chose to take it from me.”
+
+Baron Conrad looked down upon Otto all this while, drawing his bushy
+eyebrows together. Once he reached out his hand as though to stroke the
+boy’s hair, but drew it back again.
+
+Turning angrily upon the old woman, “Ursela,” said he, “thou must tell
+the child no more such stories as these; he knowest not at all of such
+things as yet. Keep thy tongue busy with the old woman’s tales that he
+loves to hear thee tell, and leave it with me to teach him what becometh
+a true knight and a Vuelph.”
+
+That night the father and son sat together beside the roaring fire in
+the great ball. “Tell me, Otto,” said the Baron, “dost thou hate me for
+having done what Ursela told thee today that I did?”
+
+Otto looked for a while into his father’s face. “I know not,” said he at
+last, in his quaint, quiet voice, “but methinks that I do not hate thee
+for it.”
+
+The Baron drew his bushy brows together until his eyes twinkled out of
+the depths beneath them, then of a sudden he broke into a great loud
+laugh, smiting his horny palm with a smack upon his thigh.
+
+
+
+
+VII. The Red Cock Crows on Drachenhausen.
+
+There was a new emperor in Germany who had come from a far away Swiss
+castle; Count Rudolph of Hapsburg, a good, honest man with a good,
+honest, homely face, but bringing with him a stern sense of justice and
+of right, and a determination to put down the lawlessness of the savage
+German barons among whom he had come as Emperor.
+
+One day two strangers came galloping up the winding path to the gates
+of the Dragon’s house. A horn sounded thin and clear, a parley was held
+across the chasm in the road between the two strangers and the porter
+who appeared at the little wicket. Then a messenger was sent running to
+the Baron, who presently came striding across the open court-yard to the
+gateway to parley with the strangers.
+
+The two bore with them a folded parchment with a great red seal
+hanging from it like a clot of blood; it was a message from the Emperor
+demanding that the Baron should come to the Imperial Court to answer
+certain charges that had been brought against him, and to give his bond
+to maintain the peace of the empire.
+
+One by one those barons who had been carrying on their private wars, or
+had been despoiling the burgher folk in their traffic from town to
+town, and against whom complaint had been lodged, were summoned to the
+Imperial Court, where they were compelled to promise peace and to swear
+allegiance to the new order of things. All those who came willingly were
+allowed to return home again after giving security for maintaining the
+peace; all those who came not willingly were either brought in chains
+or rooted out of their strongholds with fire and sword, and their roofs
+burned over their heads.
+
+Now it was Baron Conrad’s turn to be summoned to the Imperial Court,
+for complaint had been lodged against him by his old enemy of
+Trutz-Drachen—Baron Henry—the nephew of the old Baron Frederick
+who had been slain while kneeling in the dust of the road back of the
+Kaiserburg.
+
+No one at Drachenhausen could read but Master Rudolph, the steward,
+who was sand blind, and little Otto. So the boy read the summons to his
+father, while the grim Baron sat silent with his chin resting upon his
+clenched fist and his eyebrows drawn together into a thoughtful frown as
+he gazed into the pale face of his son, who sat by the rude oaken table
+with the great parchment spread out before him.
+
+Should he answer the summons, or scorn it as he would have done under
+the old emperors? Baron Conrad knew not which to do; pride said one
+thing and policy another. The Emperor was a man with an iron hand, and
+Baron Conrad knew what had happened to those who had refused to obey the
+imperial commands. So at last he decided that he would go to the court,
+taking with him a suitable escort to support his dignity.
+
+It was with nearly a hundred armed men clattering behind him that Baron
+Conrad rode away to court to answer the imperial summons. The castle was
+stripped of its fighting men, and only eight remained behind to guard
+the great stone fortress and the little simple-witted boy.
+
+It was a sad mistake.
+
+Three days had passed since the Baron had left the castle, and now the
+third night had come. The moon was hanging midway in the sky, white and
+full, for it was barely past midnight.
+
+The high precipitous banks of the rocky road threw a dense black shadow
+into the gully below, and in that crooked inky line that scarred the
+white face of the moonlit rocks a band of some thirty men were creeping
+slowly and stealthily nearer and nearer to Castle Drachenhausen. At the
+head of them was a tall, slender knight clad in light chain armor, his
+head covered only by a steel cap or bascinet.
+
+Along the shadow they crept, with only now and then a faint clink or
+jingle of armor to break the stillness, for most of those who followed
+the armed knight were clad in leathern jerkins; only one or two wearing
+even so much as a steel breast-plate by way of armor.
+
+So at last they reached the chasm that yawned beneath the roadway, and
+there they stopped, for they had reached the spot toward which they had
+been journeying. It was Baron Henry of Trutz-Drachen who had thus come
+in the silence of the night time to the Dragon’s house, and his visit
+boded no good to those within.
+
+The Baron and two or three of his men talked together in low tones, now
+and then looking up at the sheer wall that towered above them.
+
+“Yonder is the place, Lord Baron,” said one of those who stood with him.
+“I have scanned every foot of the wall at night for a week past. An we
+get not in by that way, we get not in at all. A keen eye, a true aim,
+and a bold man are all that we need, and the business is done.” Here
+again all looked upward at the gray wall above them, rising up in the
+silent night air.
+
+High aloft hung the wooden bartizan or watch-tower, clinging to the face
+of the outer wall and looming black against the pale sky above. Three
+great beams pierced the wall, and upon them the wooden tower rested. The
+middle beam jutted out beyond the rest to the distance of five or six
+feet, and the end of it was carved into the rude semblance of a dragon’s
+head.
+
+“So, good,” said the Baron at last; “then let us see if thy plan holds,
+and if Hans Schmidt’s aim is true enough to earn the three marks that I
+have promised him. Where is the bag?”
+
+One of those who stood near handed the Baron a leathern pouch, the Baron
+opened it and drew out a ball of fine thread, another of twine, a coil
+of stout rope, and a great bundle that looked, until it was unrolled,
+like a coarse fish-net. It was a rope ladder. While these were being
+made ready, Hans Schmidt, a thick-set, low-browed, broad-shouldered
+archer, strung his stout bow, and carefully choosing three arrows
+from those in his quiver, he stuck them point downward in the earth.
+Unwinding the ball of thread, he laid it loosely in large loops upon the
+ground so that it might run easily without hitching, then he tied the
+end of the thread tightly around one of his arrows. He fitted the arrow
+to the bow and drew the feather to his ear. Twang! rang the bowstring,
+and the feathered messenger flew whistling upon its errand to the
+watch-tower. The very first shaft did the work.
+
+“Good,” said Hans Schmidt, the archer, in his heavy voice, “the three
+marks are mine, Lord Baron.”
+
+The arrow had fallen over and across the jutting beam between the carved
+dragon’s head and the bartizan, carrying with it the thread, which now
+hung from above, glimmering white in the moonlight like a cobweb.
+
+The rest was an easy task enough. First the twine was drawn up to and
+over the beam by the thread, then the rope was drawn up by the twine,
+and last of all the rope ladder by the rope. There it hung like a thin,
+slender black line against the silent gray walls.
+
+“And now,” said the Baron, “who will go first and win fifty marks for
+his own, and climb the rope ladder to the tower yonder?” Those around
+hesitated. “Is there none brave enough to venture?” said the Baron,
+after a pause of silence.
+
+A stout, young fellow, of about eighteen years of age, stepped forward
+and flung his flat leathern cap upon the ground. “I will go, my Lord
+Baron,” said he.
+
+“Good,” said the Baron, “the fifty marks are thine. And now listen, if
+thou findest no one in the watch-tower, whistle thus; if the watchman
+be at his post, see that thou makest all safe before thou givest the
+signal. When all is ready the others will follow thee. And now go and
+good luck go with thee.”
+
+The young fellow spat upon his hands and, seizing the ropes, began
+slowly and carefully to mount the flimsy, shaking ladder. Those below
+held it as tight as they were able, but nevertheless he swung backward
+and forward and round and round as he climbed steadily upward. Once he
+stopped upon the way, and those below saw him clutch the ladder close
+to him as though dizzied by the height and the motion but he soon began
+again, up, up, up like some great black spider. Presently he came out
+from the black shadow below and into the white moonlight, and then his
+shadow followed him step by step up the gray wall upon his way. At last
+he reached the jutting beam, and there again he stopped for a moment
+clutching tightly to it. The next he was upon the beam, dragging himself
+toward the window of the bartizan just above. Slowly raising himself
+upon his narrow foothold he peeped cautiously within. Those watching
+him from below saw him slip his hand softly to his side, and then place
+something between his teeth. It was his dagger. Reaching up, he clutched
+the window sill above him and, with a silent spring, seated himself
+upon it. The next moment he disappeared within. A few seconds of silence
+followed, then of sudden a sharp gurgling cry broke the stillness. There
+was another pause of silence, then a faint shrill whistle sounded from
+above.
+
+“Who will go next?” said the Baron. It was Hans Schmidt who stepped
+forward. Another followed the arch up the ladder, and another, and
+another. Last of all went the Baron Henry himself, and nothing was left
+but the rope ladder hanging from above, and swaying back and forth in
+the wind.
+
+That night Schwartz Carl had been bousing it over a pot of yellow wine
+in the pantry with his old crony, Master Rudolph, the steward; and the
+two, chatting and gossiping together, had passed the time away until
+long after the rest of the castle had been wrapped in sleep. Then,
+perhaps a little unsteady upon his feet, Schwartz Carl betook himself
+homeward to the Melchior tower.
+
+He stood for a while in the shadow of the doorway, gazing up into the
+pale sky above him at the great, bright, round moon, that hung like a
+bubble above the sharp peaks of the roofs standing black as ink against
+the sky. But all of a sudden he started up from the post against which
+he had been leaning, and with head bent to one side, stood listening
+breathlessly, for he too had heard that smothered cry from the
+watch-tower. So he stood intently, motionlessly, listening, listening;
+but all was silent except for the monotonous dripping of water in one of
+the nooks of the court-yard, and the distant murmur of the river borne
+upon the breath of the night air. “Mayhap I was mistaken,” muttered
+Schwartz Carl to himself.
+
+But the next moment the silence was broken again by a faint, shrill
+whistle; what did it mean?
+
+Back of the heavy oaken door of the tower was Schwartz Carl’s cross-bow,
+the portable windlass with which the bowstring was drawn back, and a
+pouch of bolts. Schwartz Carl reached back into the darkness, fumbling
+in the gloom until his fingers met the weapon. Setting his foot in the
+iron stirrup at the end of the stock, he wound the stout bow-string
+into the notch of the trigger, and carefully fitted the heavy,
+murderous-looking bolt into the groove.
+
+Minute after minute passed, and Schwartz Carl, holding his arbelast in
+his hand, stood silently waiting and watching in the sharp-cut, black
+shadow of the doorway, motionless as a stone statue. Minute after minute
+passed. Suddenly there was a movement in the shadow of the arch of the
+great gateway across the court-yard, and the next moment a leathern-clad
+figure crept noiselessly out upon the moonlit pavement, and stood there
+listening, his head bent to one side. Schwartz Carl knew very well
+that it was no one belonging to the castle, and, from the nature of his
+action, that he was upon no good errand.
+
+He did not stop to challenge the suspicious stranger. The taking of
+another’s life was thought too small a matter for much thought or care
+in those days. Schwartz Carl would have shot a man for a much smaller
+reason than the suspicious actions of this fellow. The leather-clad
+figure stood a fine target in the moonlight for a cross-bow bolt.
+Schwartz Carl slowly raised the weapon to his shoulder and took a long
+and steady aim. Just then the stranger put his fingers to his lips and
+gave a low, shrill whistle. It was the last whistle that he was to give
+upon this earth. There was a sharp, jarring twang of the bow-string, the
+hiss of the flying bolt, and the dull thud as it struck its mark. The
+man gave a shrill, quavering cry, and went staggering back, and then
+fell all of a heap against the wall behind him. As though in answer to
+the cry, half a dozen men rushed tumultuously out from the shadow of
+the gateway whence the stranger had just come, and then stood in the
+court-yard, looking uncertainly this way and that, not knowing from what
+quarter the stroke had come that had laid their comrade low.
+
+But Schwartz Carl did not give them time to discover that; there was no
+chance to string his cumbersome weapon again; down he flung it upon the
+ground. “To arms!” he roared in a voice of thunder, and then clapped to
+the door of Melchior’s tower and shot the great iron bolts with a clang
+and rattle.
+
+The next instant the Trutz-Drachen men were thundering at the door, but
+Schwartz Carl was already far up the winding steps.
+
+But now the others came pouring out from the gateway. “To the house,”
+ roared Baron Henry.
+
+Then suddenly a clashing, clanging uproar crashed out upon the night.
+Dong! Dong! It was the great alarm bell from Melchior’s tower--Schwartz
+Carl was at his post.
+
+Little Baron Otto lay sleeping upon the great rough bed in his room,
+dreaming of the White Cross on the hill and of brother John. By and by
+he heard the convent bell ringing, and knew that there must be visitors
+at the gate, for loud voices sounded through his dream. Presently he
+knew that he was coming awake, but though the sunny monastery garden
+grew dimmer and dimmer to his sleeping sight, the clanging of the bell
+and the sound of shouts grew louder and louder. Then he opened his eyes.
+Flaming red lights from torches, carried hither and thither by people
+in the court-yard outside, flashed and ran along the wall of his
+room. Hoarse shouts and cries filled the air, and suddenly the shrill,
+piercing shriek of a woman rang from wall to wall; and through the
+noises the great bell from far above upon Melchior’s tower clashed and
+clanged its harsh, resonant alarm.
+
+Otto sprang from his bed and looked out of the window and down upon
+the court-yard below. “Dear God! what dreadful thing hath happened?” he
+cried and clasped his hands together.
+
+A cloud of smoke was pouring out from the windows of the building across
+the court-yard, whence a dull ruddy glow flashed and flickered. Strange
+men were running here and there with flaming torches, and the now
+continuous shrieking of women pierced the air.
+
+Just beneath the window lay the figure of a man half naked and face
+downward upon the stones. Then suddenly Otto cried out in fear and
+horror, for, as he looked with dazed and bewildered eyes down into the
+lurid court-yard beneath, a savage man, in a shining breast-plate and
+steel cap, came dragging the dark, silent figure of a woman across the
+stones; but whether she was dead or in a swoon, Otto could not tell.
+
+And every moment the pulsing of that dull red glare from the windows of
+the building across the court-yard shone more brightly, and the glare
+from other flaming buildings, which Otto could not see from his window,
+turned the black, starry night into a lurid day.
+
+Just then the door of the room was burst open, and in rushed poor old
+Ursela, crazy with her terror. She flung herself down upon the floor and
+caught Otto around the knees. “Save me!” she cried, “save me!” as though
+the poor, pale child could be of any help to her at such a time. In the
+passageway without shone the light of torches, and the sound of loud
+footsteps came nearer and nearer.
+
+And still through all the din sounded continually the clash and clang
+and clamor of the great alarm bell.
+
+The red light flashed into the room, and in the doorway stood a tall,
+thin figure clad from head to foot in glittering chain armor. From
+behind this fierce knight, with his dark, narrow, cruel face, its
+deep-set eyes glistening in the light of the torches, crowded six or
+eight savage, low-browed, brutal men, who stared into the room and
+at the white-faced boy as he stood by the window with the old woman
+clinging to his knees and praying to him for help.
+
+“We have cracked the nut and here is the kernel,” said one of them who
+stood behind the rest, and thereupon a roar of brutal laughter went up.
+But the cruel face of the armed knight never relaxed into a smile;
+he strode into the room and laid his iron hand heavily upon the boy’s
+shoulder. “Art thou the young Baron Otto?” said he, in a harsh voice.
+
+“Aye,” said the lad; “but do not kill me.”
+
+The knight did not answer him. “Fetch the cord hither,” said he, “and
+drag the old witch away.”
+
+It took two of them to loosen poor old Ursela’s crazy clutch from about
+her young master. Then amid roars of laughter they dragged her away,
+screaming and scratching and striking with her fists.
+
+They drew back Otto’s arms behind his back and wrapped them round and
+round with a bowstring. Then they pushed and hustled and thrust him
+forth from the room and along the passageway, now bright with the flames
+that roared and crackled without. Down the steep stairway they drove
+him, where thrice he stumbled and fell amid roars of laughter. At last
+they were out into the open air of the court-yard. Here was a terrible
+sight, but Otto saw nothing of it; his blue eyes were gazing far away,
+and his lips moved softly with the prayer that the good monks of St.
+Michaelsburg had taught him, for he thought that they meant to slay him.
+
+All around the court-yard the flames roared and snapped and crackled.
+Four or five figures lay scattered here and there, silent in all the
+glare and uproar. The heat was so intense that they were soon forced
+back into the shelter of the great gateway, where the women captives,
+under the guard of three or four of the Trutz-Drachen men, were crowded
+together in dumb, bewildered terror. Only one man was to be seen among
+the captives, poor, old, half blind Master Rudolph, the steward,
+who crouched tremblingly among the women.
+
+They had set the blaze to Melchior’s tower, and now, below, it was a
+seething furnace. Above, the smoke rolled in black clouds from the
+windows, but still the alarm bell sounded through all the blaze and
+smoke. Higher and higher the flames rose; a trickle of fire ran along
+the frame buildings hanging aloft in the air. A clear flame burst out
+at the peak of the roof, but still the bell rang forth its clamorous
+clangor. Presently those who watched below saw the cluster of buildings
+bend and sink and sway; there was a crash and roar, a cloud of sparks
+flew up as though to the very heavens themselves, and the bell of
+Melchior’s tower was stilled forever. A great shout arose from the
+watching, upturned faces.
+
+“Forward!” cried Baron Henry, and out from the gateway they swept and
+across the drawbridge, leaving Drachenhausen behind them a flaming
+furnace blazing against the gray of the early dawning.
+
+
+
+
+VIII. In the House of the Dragon Scorner.
+
+Tall, narrow, gloomy room; no furniture but a rude bench, a bare stone
+floor, cold stone walls and a gloomy ceiling of arched stone over head;
+a long, narrow slit of a window high above in the wall, through the iron
+bars of which Otto could see a small patch of blue sky and now and then
+a darting swallow, for an instant seen, the next instant gone. Such
+was the little baron’s prison in Trutz-Drachen. Fastened to a bolt
+and hanging against the walls, hung a pair of heavy chains with gaping
+fetters at the ends. They were thick with rust, and the red stain of
+the rust streaked the wall below where they hung like a smear of blood.
+Little Otto shuddered as he looked at them; can those be meant for me,
+he thought.
+
+Nothing was to be seen but that one patch of blue sky far up in the
+wall. No sound from without was to be heard in that gloomy cell of
+stone, for the window pierced the outer wall, and the earth and its
+noises lay far below.
+
+Suddenly a door crashed without, and the footsteps of men were heard
+coming along the corridor. They stopped in front of Otto’s cell; he
+heard the jingle of keys, and then a loud rattle of one thrust into
+the lock of the heavy oaken door. The rusty bolt was shot back with a
+screech, the door opened, and there stood Baron Henry, no longer in his
+armor, but clad in a long black robe that reached nearly to his feet,
+a broad leather belt was girdled about his waist, and from it dangled a
+short, heavy hunting sword.
+
+Another man was with the Baron, a heavy-faced fellow clad in a leathern
+jerkin over which was drawn a short coat of linked mail.
+
+The two stood for a moment looking into the room, and Otto, his pale
+face glimmering in the gloom, sat upon the edge of the heavy wooden
+bench or bed, looking back at them out of his great blue eyes. Then the
+two entered and closed the door behind them.
+
+“Dost thou know why thou art here?” said the Baron, in his deep, harsh
+voice.
+
+“Nay,” said Otto, “I know not.”
+
+“So?” said the Baron. “Then I will tell thee. Three years ago the good
+Baron Frederick, my uncle, kneeled in the dust and besought mercy at thy
+father’s hands; the mercy he received was the coward blow that slew him.
+Thou knowest the story?”
+
+“Aye,” said Otto, tremblingly, “I know it.”
+
+“Then dost thou not know why I am here?” said the Baron.
+
+“Nay, dear Lord Baron, I know not,” said poor little Otto, and began to
+weep.
+
+The Baron stood for a moment or two looking gloomily upon him, as the
+little boy sat there with the tears running down his white face.
+
+“I will tell thee,” said he, at last; “I swore an oath that the red cock
+should crow on Drachenhausen, and I have given it to the dames. I swore
+an oath that no Vuelph that ever left my hands should be able to strike
+such a blow as thy father gave to Baron Frederick, and now I will fulfil
+that too. Catch the boy, Casper, and hold him.”
+
+As the man in the mail shirt stepped toward little Otto, the boy leaped
+up from where he sat and caught the Baron about the knees. “Oh! dear
+Lord Baron,” he cried, “do not harm me; I am only a little child, I have
+never done harm to thee; do not harm me.”
+
+“Take him away,” said the Baron, harshly.
+
+The fellow stooped, and loosening Otto’s hold, in spite of his struggles
+and cries, carried him to the bench, against which he held him, whilst
+the Baron stood above him.
+
+Baron Henry and the other came forth from the cell, carefully closing
+the wooden door behind them. At the end of the corridor the Baron
+turned, “Let the leech be sent to the boy,” said he. And then he turned
+and walked away.
+
+Otto lay upon the hard couch in his cell, covered with a shaggy bear
+skin. His face was paler and thinner than ever, and dark rings encircled
+his blue eyes. He was looking toward the door, for there was a noise of
+someone fumbling with the lock without.
+
+Since that dreadful day when Baron Henry had come to his cell, only two
+souls had visited Otto. One was the fellow who had come with the Baron
+that time; his name, Otto found, was Casper. He brought the boy his rude
+meals of bread and meat and water. The other visitor was the leech or
+doctor, a thin, weasand little man, with a kindly, wrinkled face and a
+gossiping tongue, who, besides binding wounds, bleeding, and leeching,
+and administering his simple remedies to those who were taken sick in
+the castle, acted as the Baron’s barber.
+
+The Baron had left the key in the lock of the door, so that these two
+might enter when they chose, but Otto knew that it was neither the one
+nor the other whom he now heard at the door, working uncertainly with
+the key, striving to turn it in the rusty, cumbersome lock. At last the
+bolts grated back, there was a pause, and then the door opened a little
+way, and Otto thought that he could see someone peeping in from without.
+By and by the door opened further, there was another pause, and then
+a slender, elfish-looking little girl, with straight black hair and
+shining black eyes, crept noiselessly into the room.
+
+She stood close by the door with her finger in her mouth, staring at
+the boy where he lay upon his couch, and Otto upon his part lay, full of
+wonder, gazing back upon the little elfin creature.
+
+She, seeing that he made no sign or motion, stepped a little nearer, and
+then, after a moment’s pause, a little nearer still, until, at last, she
+stood within a few feet of where he lay.
+
+“Art thou the Baron Otto?” said she.
+
+“Yes,” answered Otto.
+
+“Prut!” said she, “and is that so! Why, I thought that thou wert a great
+tall fellow at least, and here thou art a little boy no older than Carl
+Max, the gooseherd.” Then, after a little pause--“My name is Pauline,
+and my father is the Baron. I heard him tell my mother all about thee,
+and so I wanted to come here and see thee myself: Art thou sick?”
+
+“Yes,” said Otto, “I am sick.”
+
+“And did my father hurt thee?”
+
+“Aye,” said Otto, and his eyes filled with tears, until one sparkling
+drop trickled slowly down his white face.
+
+Little Pauline stood looking seriously at him for a while. “I am sorry
+for thee, Otto,” said she, at last. And then, at her childish pity, he
+began crying in earnest.
+
+This was only the first visit of many from the little maid, for after
+that she often came to Otto’s prison, who began to look for her coming
+from day to day as the one bright spot in the darkness and the gloom.
+
+Sitting upon the edge of his bed and gazing into his face with wide open
+eyes, she would listen to him by the hour, as he told her of his life in
+that far away monastery home; of poor, simple brother John’s wonderful
+visions, of the good Abbot’s books with their beautiful pictures, and of
+all the monkish tales and stories of knights and dragons and heroes and
+emperors of ancient Rome, which brother Emmanuel had taught him to read
+in the crabbed monkish Latin in which they were written.
+
+One day the little maid sat for a long while silent after he had ended
+speaking. At last she drew a deep breath. “And are all these things that
+thou tellest me about the priests in their castle really true?” said
+she.
+
+“Yes,” said Otto, “all are true.”
+
+“And do they never go out to fight other priests?”
+
+“No,” said Otto, “they know nothing of fighting.”
+
+“So!” said she. And then fell silent in the thought of the wonder of
+it all, and that there should be men in the world that knew nothing of
+violence and bloodshed; for in all the eight years of her life she had
+scarcely been outside of the walls of Castle Trutz-Drachen.
+
+At another time it was of Otto’s mother that they were speaking.
+
+“And didst thou never see her, Otto?” said the little girl.
+
+“Aye,” said Otto, “I see her sometimes in my dreams, and her face always
+shines so bright that I know she is an angel; for brother John has often
+seen the dear angels, and he tells me that their faces always shine in
+that way. I saw her the night thy father hurt me so, for I could not
+sleep and my head felt as though it would break asunder. Then she
+came and leaned over me and kissed my forehead, and after that I fell
+asleep.”
+
+“But where did she come from, Otto?” said the little girl.
+
+“From paradise, I think,” said Otto, with that patient seriousness that
+he had caught from the monks, and that sat so quaintly upon him.
+
+“So!” said little Pauline; and then, after a pause, “That is why thy
+mother kissed thee when thy head ached--because she is an angel. When
+I was sick my mother bade Gretchen carry me to a far part of the house,
+because I cried and so troubled her. Did thy mother ever strike thee,
+Otto?”
+
+“Nay,” said Otto.
+
+“Mine hath often struck me,” said Pauline.
+
+One day little Pauline came bustling into Otto’s cell, her head full of
+the news which she carried. “My father says that thy father is out
+in the woods somewhere yonder, back of the castle, for Fritz, the
+swineherd, told my father that last night he had seen a fire in the
+woods, and that he had crept up to it without anyone knowing. There he
+had seen the Baron Conrad and six of his men, and that they were eating
+one of the swine that they had killed and roasted. Maybe,” said she,
+seating herself upon the edge of Otto’s couch; “maybe my father will
+kill thy father, and they will bring him here and let him lie upon a
+black bed with bright candles burning around him, as they did my uncle
+Frederick when he was killed.”
+
+“God forbid!” said Otto, and then lay for a while with his hands
+clasped. “Dost thou love me, Pauline?” said he, after a while.
+
+“Yes,” said Pauline, “for thou art a good child, though my father says
+that thy wits are cracked.”
+
+“Mayhap they are,” said Otto, simply, “for I have often been told so
+before. But thou wouldst not see me die, Pauline; wouldst thou?”
+
+“Nay,” said Pauline, “I would not see thee die, for then thou couldst
+tell me no more stories; for they told me that uncle Frederick could not
+speak because he was dead.”
+
+“Then listen, Pauline,” said Otto; “if I go not away from here I shall
+surely die. Every day I grow more sick and the leech cannot cure me.”
+ Here he broke down and, turning his face upon the couch, began crying,
+while little Pauline sat looking seriously at him.
+
+“Why dost thou cry, Otto?” said she, after a while.
+
+“Because,” said he, “I am so sick, and I want my father to come and take
+me away from here.”
+
+“But why dost thou want to go away?” said Pauline. “If thy father takes
+thee away, thou canst not tell me any more stories.”
+
+“Yes, I can,” said Otto, “for when I grow to be a man I will come
+again and marry thee, and when thou art my wife I can tell thee all the
+stories that I know. Dear Pauline, canst thou not tell my father where I
+am, that he may come here and take me away before I die?”
+
+“Mayhap I could do so,” said Pauline, after a little while, “for
+sometimes I go with Casper Max to see his mother, who nursed me when I
+was a baby. She is the wife of Fritz, the swineherd, and she will make
+him tell thy father; for she will do whatever I ask of her, and Fritz
+will do whatever she bids him do.”
+
+“And for my sake, wilt thou tell him, Pauline?” said Otto.
+
+“But see, Otto,” said the little girl, “if I tell him, wilt thou promise
+to come indeed and marry me when thou art grown a man?”
+
+“Yes,” said Otto, very seriously, “I will promise.”
+
+“Then I will tell thy father where thou art,” said she.
+
+“But thou wilt do it without the Baron Henry knowing, wilt thou not,
+Pauline?”
+
+“Yes,” said she, “for if my father and my mother knew that I did such
+a thing, they would strike me, mayhap send me to my bed alone in the
+dark.”
+
+
+
+
+IX. How One-eyed Hans came to Trutz-Drachen.
+
+Fritz, the swineherd, sat eating his late supper of porridge out of a
+great, coarse, wooden bowl; wife Katherine sat at the other end of the
+table, and the half-naked little children played upon the earthen floor.
+A shaggy dog lay curled up in front of the fire, and a grunting pig
+scratched against a leg of the rude table close beside where the woman
+sat.
+
+“Yes, yes,” said Katherine, speaking of the matter of which they had
+already been talking. “It is all very true that the Drachenhausens are a
+bad lot, and I for one am of no mind to say no to that; all the same it
+is a sad thing that a simple-witted little child like the young Baron
+should be so treated as the boy has been; and now that our Lord Baron
+has served him so that he, at least, will never be able to do us harm,
+I for one say that he should not be left there to die alone in that
+black cell.”
+
+Fritz, the swineherd, gave a grunt at this without raising his eyes from
+the bowl.
+
+“Yes, good,” said Katherine, “I know what thou meanest, Fritz, and that
+it is none of my business to be thrusting my finger into the Baron’s
+dish. But to hear the way that dear little child spoke when she was here
+this morn--it would have moved a heart of stone to hear her tell of all
+his pretty talk. Thou wilt try to let the red-beard know that that poor
+boy, his son, is sick to death in the black cell; wilt thou not, Fritz?”
+
+The swineherd dropped his wooden spoon into the bowl with a clatter.
+“Potstausand!” he cried; “art thou gone out of thy head to let thy wits
+run upon such things as this of which thou talkest to me? If it should
+come to our Lord Baron’s ears he would cut the tongue from out thy head
+and my head from off my shoulders for it. Dost thou think I am going to
+meddle in such a matter as this? Listen! these proud Baron folk, with
+their masterful ways, drive our sort hither and thither; they beat us,
+they drive us, they kill us as they choose. Our lives are not as much
+to them as one of my black swine. Why should I trouble my head if they
+choose to lop and trim one another? The fewer there are of them the
+better for us, say I. We poor folk have a hard enough life of it without
+thrusting our heads into the noose to help them out of their troubles.
+What thinkest thou would happen to us if Baron Henry should hear of our
+betraying his affairs to the Red-beard?”
+
+“Nay,” said Katherine, “thou hast naught to do in the matter but to tell
+the Red-beard in what part of the castle the little Baron lies.”
+
+“And what good would that do?” said Fritz, the swineherd.
+
+“I know not,” said Katherine, “but I have promised the little one that
+thou wouldst find the Baron Conrad and tell him that much.”
+
+“Thou hast promised a mare’s egg,” said her husband, angrily. “How shall
+I find the Baron Conrad to bear a message to him, when our Baron has
+been looking for him in vain for two days past?”
+
+“Thou has found him once and thou mayst find him again,” said Katherine,
+“for it is not likely that he will keep far away from here whilst his
+boy is in such sore need of help.”
+
+“I will have nothing to do with it!” said Fritz, and he got up from the
+wooden block whereon he was sitting and stumped out of the house. But,
+then, Katherine had heard him talk in that way before, and knew, in
+spite of his saying “no,” that, sooner or later, he would do as she
+wished.
+
+Two days later a very stout little one-eyed man, clad in a leathern
+jerkin and wearing a round leathern cap upon his head, came toiling up
+the path to the postern door of Trutz-Drachen, his back bowed under the
+burthen of a great peddler’s pack. It was our old friend the one-eyed
+Hans, though even his brother would hardly have known him in his present
+guise, for, besides having turned peddler, he had grown of a sudden
+surprisingly fat.
+
+Rap-tap-tap! He knocked at the door with a knotted end of the crooked
+thorned staff upon which he leaned. He waited for a while and then
+knocked again--rap-tap-tap!
+
+Presently, with a click, a little square wicket that pierced the door
+was opened, and a woman’s face peered out through the iron bars.
+
+The one-eyed Hans whipped off his leathern cap.
+
+“Good day, pretty one,” said he, “and hast thou any need of glass beads,
+ribbons, combs, or trinkets? Here I am come all the way from Gruenstadt,
+with a pack full of such gay things as thou never laid eyes on before.
+Here be rings and bracelets and necklaces that might be of pure silver
+and set with diamonds and rubies, for anything that thy dear one could
+tell if he saw thee decked in them. And all are so cheap that thou hast
+only to say, ‘I want them,’ and they are thine.”
+
+The frightened face at the window looked from right to left and from
+left to right. “Hush,” said the girl, and laid her finger upon her lips.
+“There! thou hadst best get away from here, poor soul, as fast as thy
+legs can carry thee, for if the Lord Baron should find thee here talking
+secretly at the postern door, he would loose the wolf-hounds upon thee.”
+
+“Prut,” said one-eyed Hans, with a grin, “the Baron is too big a fly to
+see such a little gnat as I; but wolf-hounds or no wolf-hounds, I
+can never go hence without showing thee the pretty things that I have
+brought from the town, even though my stay be at the danger of my own
+hide.”
+
+He flung the pack from off his shoulders as he spoke and fell to
+unstrapping it, while the round face of the lass (her eyes big with
+curiosity) peered down at him through the grated iron bars.
+
+Hans held up a necklace of blue and white beads that glistened like
+jewels in the sun, and from them hung a gorgeous filigree cross. “Didst
+thou ever see a sweeter thing than this?” said he; “and look, here is a
+comb that even the silversmith would swear was pure silver all the way
+through.” Then, in a soft, wheedling voice, “Canst thou not let me in,
+my little bird? Sure there are other lasses besides thyself who would
+like to trade with a poor peddler who has travelled all the way from
+Gruenstadt just to please the pretty ones of Trutz-Drachen.”
+
+“Nay,” said the lass, in a frightened voice, “I cannot let thee in; I
+know not what the Baron would do to me, even now, if he knew that I was
+here talking to a stranger at the postern;” and she made as if she would
+clap to the little window in his face; but the one-eyed Hans thrust his
+staff betwixt the bars and so kept the shutter open.
+
+“Nay, nay,” said he, eagerly, “do not go away from me too soon. Look,
+dear one; seest thou this necklace?”
+
+“Aye,” said she, looking hungrily at it.
+
+“Then listen; if thou wilt but let me into the castle, so that I may
+strike a trade, I will give it to thee for thine own without thy paying
+a barley corn for it.”
+
+The girl looked and hesitated, and then looked again; the temptation was
+too great. There was a noise of softly drawn bolts and bars, the door
+was hesitatingly opened a little way, and, in a twinkling, the one-eyed
+Hans had slipped inside the castle, pack and all.
+
+“The necklace,” said the girl, in a frightened whisper.
+
+Hans thrust it into her hand. “It’s thine,” said he, “and now wilt thou
+not help me to a trade?”
+
+“I will tell my sister that thou art here,” said she, and away she ran
+from the little stone hallway, carefully bolting and locking the further
+door behind her.
+
+The door that the girl had locked was the only one that connected the
+postern hail with the castle.
+
+The one-eyed Hans stood looking after her. “Thou fool!” he muttered to
+himself, “to lock the door behind thee. What shall I do next, I should
+like to know? Here am I just as badly off as I was when I stood outside
+the walls. Thou hussy! If thou hadst but let me into the castle for only
+two little minutes, I would have found somewhere to have hidden myself
+while thy back was turned. But what shall I do now?” He rested his pack
+upon the floor and stood looking about him.
+
+Built in the stone wall opposite to him, was a high, narrow fireplace
+without carving of any sort. As Hans’ one eye wandered around the bare
+stone space, his glance fell at last upon it, and there it rested. For
+a while he stood looking intently at it, presently he began rubbing his
+hand over his bristling chin in a thoughtful, meditative manner. Finally
+he drew a deep breath, and giving himself a shake as though to arouse
+himself from his thoughts, and after listening a moment or two to
+make sure that no one was nigh, he walked softly to the fireplace, and
+stooping, peered up the chimney. Above him yawned a black cavernous
+depth, inky with the soot of years. Hans straightened himself, and
+tilting his leathern cap to one side, began scratching his bullet-head;
+at last he drew a long breath. “Yes, good,” he muttered to himself; “he
+who jumps into the river must e’en swim the best he can. It is a vile,
+dirty place to thrust one’s self; but I am in for it now, and must make
+the best of a lame horse.”
+
+He settled the cap more firmly upon his head, spat upon his hands, and
+once more stooping in the fireplace, gave a leap, and up the chimney he
+went with a rattle of loose mortar and a black trickle of soot.
+
+By and by footsteps sounded outside the door. There was a pause; a
+hurried whispering of women’s voices; the twitter of a nervous laugh,
+and then the door was pushed softly opens and the girl to whom the
+one-eyed Hans had given the necklace of blue and white beads with the
+filigree cross hanging from it, peeped uncertainly into the room. Behind
+her broad, heavy face were three others, equally homely and stolid; for
+a while all four stood there, looking blankly into the room and around
+it. Nothing was there but the peddler’s knapsack lying in the middle of
+the floor-the man was gone. The light of expectancy slowly faded Out of
+the girl’s face, and in its place succeeded first bewilderment and then
+dull alarm. “But, dear heaven,” she said, “where then has the peddler
+man gone?”
+
+A moment or two of silence followed her speech. “Perhaps,” said one of
+the others, in a voice hushed with awe, “perhaps it was the evil one
+himself to whom thou didst open the door.”
+
+Again there was a hushed and breathless pause; it was the lass who had
+let Hans in at the postern, who next spoke.
+
+“Yes,” said she, in a voice trembling with fright at what she had done,
+“yes, it must have been the evil one, for now I remember he had but one
+eye.” The four girls crossed themselves, and their eyes grew big and
+round with the fright.
+
+Suddenly a shower of mortar came rattling down the chimney. “Ach!” cried
+the four, as with one voice. Bang! the door was clapped to and away they
+scurried like a flock of frightened rabbits.
+
+When Jacob, the watchman, came that way an hour later, upon his evening
+round of the castle, he found a peddler’s knapsack lying in the middle
+of the floor. He turned it over with his pike-staff and saw that it was
+full of beads and trinkets and ribbons.
+
+“How came this here?” said he. And then, without waiting for the answer
+which he did not expect, he flung it over his shoulder and marched away
+with it.
+
+
+
+
+X. How Hans Brought Terror to the Kitchen.
+
+Hans found himself in a pretty pickle in the chimney, for the soot got
+into his one eye and set it to watering, and into his nose and set him
+to sneezing, and into his mouth and his ears and his hair. But still
+he struggled on, up and up; “for every chimney has a top,” said Hans
+to himself “and I am sure to climb out somewhere or other.” Suddenly he
+came to a place where another chimney joined the one he was climbing,
+and here he stopped to consider the matter at his leisure. “See now,” he
+muttered, “if I still go upward I may come out at the top of some tall
+chimney-stack with no way of getting down outside. Now, below here
+there must be a fire-place somewhere, for a chimney does not start from
+nothing at all; yes, good! we will go down a while and see what we make
+of that.”
+
+It was a crooked, zigzag road that he had to travel, and rough and hard
+into the bargain. His one eye tingled and smarted, and his knees and
+elbows were rubbed to the quick; nevertheless One-eyed Hans had been in
+worse trouble than this in his life.
+
+Down he went and down he went, further than he had climbed upward
+before. “Sure, I must be near some place or other,” he thought.
+
+As though in instant answer to his thoughts, he heard the sudden sound
+of a voice so close beneath him that he stopped short in his downward
+climbing and stood as still as a mouse, with his heart in his mouth.
+A few inches more and he would have been discovered;--what would have
+happened then would have been no hard matter to foretell.
+
+Hans braced his back against one side of the chimney, his feet against
+the other and then, leaning forward, looked down between his knees. The
+gray light of the coming evening glimmered in a wide stone fireplace
+just below him. Within the fireplace two people were moving about upon
+the broad hearth, a great, fat woman and a shock-headed boy. The woman
+held a spit with two newly trussed fowls upon it, so that One-eyed Hans
+knew that she must be the cook.
+
+“Thou ugly toad,” said the woman to the boy, “did I not bid thee make a
+fire an hour ago? and now, here there is not so much as a spark to roast
+the fowls withall, and they to be basted for the lord Baron’s supper.
+Where hast thou been for all this time?”
+
+“No matter,” said the boy, sullenly, as he laid the fagots ready for the
+lighting; “no matter, I was not running after Long Jacob, the bowman, to
+try to catch him for a sweetheart, as thou hast been doing.”
+
+The reply was instant and ready. The cook raised her hand; “smack!” she
+struck and a roar from the scullion followed.
+
+“Yes, good,” thought Hans, as he looked down upon them; “I am glad that
+the boy’s ear was not on my head.”
+
+“Now give me no more of thy talk,” said the woman, “but do the work
+that thou hast been bidden.” Then--“How came all this black soot here, I
+should like to know?”
+
+“How should I know?” snuffled the scullion, “mayhap thou wouldst blame
+that on me also?”
+
+“That is my doing,” whispered Hans to himself; “but if they light the
+fire, what then becomes of me?”
+
+“See now,” said the cook; “I go to make the cakes ready; if I come back
+and find that thou hast not built the fire, I will warm thy other ear
+for thee.”
+
+“So,” thought Hans; “then will be my time to come down the chimney, for
+there will be but one of them.”
+
+The next moment he heard the door close and knew that the cook had gone
+to make the cakes ready as she said. And as he looked down he saw that
+the boy was bending over the bundle of fagots, blowing the spark that
+he had brought in upon the punk into a flame. The dry fagots began to
+crackle and blaze. “Now is my time,” said Hans to himself. Bracing his
+elbows against each side of the chimney, he straightened his legs so
+that he might fall clear. His motions loosened little shower of soot that
+fell rattling upon the fagots that were now beginning to blaze brightly,
+whereupon the boy raised his face and looked up. Hans loosened his hold
+upon the chimney; crash! he fell, lighting upon his feet in the midst
+of the burning fagots. The scullion boy tumbled backward upon the floor,
+where he lay upon the broad of his back with a face as white as
+dough and eyes and mouth agape, staring speechlessly at the frightful
+inky-black figure standing in the midst of the flames and smoke. Then
+his scattered wits came back to him. “It is the evil one,” he roared.
+And thereupon, turning upon his side, he half rolled, half scrambled to
+the door. Then out he leaped and, banging it to behind him, flew down
+the passageway, yelling with fright and never daring once to look behind
+him.
+
+All the time One-eyed Hans was brushing away the sparks that clung to
+his clothes. He was as black as ink from head to foot with the soot from
+the chimney.
+
+“So far all is good,” he muttered to himself, “but if I go wandering
+about in my sooty shoes I will leave black tracks to follow me, so there
+is nothing to do but e’en to go barefoot.”
+
+He stooped and drawing the pointed soft leather shoes from his feet, he
+threw them upon the now blazing fagots, where they writhed and twisted
+and wrinkled, and at last burst into a flame. Meanwhile Hans lost no
+time; he must find a hiding-place, and quickly, if he would yet hope
+to escape. A great bread trough stood in the corner of the kitchen--a
+hopper-shaped chest with a flat lid. It was the best hiding place that
+the room afforded. Without further thought Hans ran to it, snatching up
+from the table as he passed a loaf of black bread and a bottle half full
+of stale wine, for he had had nothing to eat since that morning. Into
+the great bread trough he climbed, and drawing the lid down upon him,
+curled himself up as snugly as a mouse in its nest.
+
+For a while the kitchen lay in silence, but at last the sound of voices
+was heard at the door, whispering together in low tones. Suddenly the
+door was flung open and a tall, lean, lantern-jawed fellow, clad in
+rough frieze, strode into the room and stood there glaring with half
+frightened boldness around about him; three or four women and the
+trembling scullion crowded together in a frightened group behind him.
+
+The man was Long Jacob, the bowman; but, after all, his boldness was
+all wasted, for not a thread or a hair was to be seen, but only the
+crackling fire throwing its cheerful ruddy glow upon the wall of the
+room, now rapidly darkening in the falling gray of the twilight without.
+
+The fat cook’s fright began rapidly to turn into anger.
+
+“Thou imp,” she cried, “it is one of thy tricks,” and she made a dive
+for the scullion, who ducked around the skirts of one of the other women
+and so escaped for the time; but Long Jacob wrinkled up his nose and
+sniffed. “Nay,” said he, “me thinks that there lieth some truth in the
+tale that the boy hath told, for here is a vile smell of burned horn
+that the black one hath left behind him.”
+
+It was the smell from the soft leather shoes that Hans had burned.
+
+The silence of night had fallen over the Castle of Trutz-Drachen; not
+a sound was heard but the squeaking of mice scurring behind the
+wainscoting, the dull dripping of moisture from the eaves, or the
+sighing of the night wind around the gables and through the naked
+windows of the castle.
+
+The lid of the great dough trough was softly raised, and a face, black
+with soot, peeped cautiously out from under it. Then little by little
+arose a figure as black as the face; and One-eyed Hans stepped out upon
+the floor, stretching and rubbing himself.
+
+“Methinks I must have slept,” he muttered. “Hui, I am as stiff as a new
+leather doublet, and now, what next is to become of me? I hope my luck
+may yet stick to me, in spite of this foul black soot!”
+
+Along the middle of the front of the great hall of the castle, ran a
+long stone gallery, opening at one end upon the court-yard by a high
+flight of stone steps. A man-at-arms in breast-plate and steel cap, and
+bearing a long pike, paced up and down the length of this gallery, now
+and then stopping, leaning over the edge, and gazing up into the starry
+sky above; then, with a long drawn yawn, lazily turning back to the
+monotonous watch again.
+
+A dark figure crept out from an arched doorway at the lower part of the
+long straight building, and some little distance below the end gallery,
+but the sentry saw nothing of it, for his back was turned. As silently
+and as stealthily as a cat the figure crawled along by the dark shadowy
+wall, now and then stopping, and then again creeping slowly forward
+toward the gallery where the man-at-arms moved monotonously up and down.
+It was One-eyed Hans in his bare feet.
+
+Inch by inch, foot by foot--the black figure crawled along in the angle
+of the wall; inch by inch and foot by foot, but ever nearer and nearer
+to the long straight row of stone steps that led to the covered gallery.
+At last it crouched at the lowest step of the flight. Just then the
+sentinel upon watch came to the very end of the gallery and stood there
+leaning upon his spear. Had he looked down below he could not have
+failed to have seen One-eyed Hans lying there motionlessly; but he was
+gazing far away over the steep black roofs beyond, and never saw the
+unsuspected presence. Minute after minute passed, and the one stood
+there looking out into the night and the other lay crouching by the
+wall; then with a weary sigh the sentry turned and began slowly pacing
+back again toward the farther end of the gallery.
+
+Instantly the motionless figure below arose and glided noiselessly and
+swiftly up the flight of steps.
+
+Two rude stone pillars flanked either side of the end of the gallery.
+Like a shadow the black figure slipped behind one of these, flattening
+itself up against the wall, where it stood straight and motionless as
+the shadows around it.
+
+Down the long gallery came the watchman, his sword clinking loudly in
+the silence as he walked, tramp, tramp, tramp! clink, clank, jingle.
+
+Within three feet of the motionless figure behind the pillar he turned,
+and began retracing his monotonous steps. Instantly the other left the
+shadow of the post and crept rapidly and stealthily after him. One step,
+two steps the sentinel took; for a moment the black figure behind him
+seemed to crouch and draw together, then like a flash it leaped forward
+upon its victim.
+
+A shadowy cloth fell upon the man’s face, and in an instant he was flung
+back and down with a muffled crash upon the stones. Then followed a
+fierce and silent struggle in the darkness, but strong and sturdy as the
+man was, he was no match for the almost superhuman strength of One-eyed
+Hans. The cloth which he had flung over his head was tied tightly and
+securely. Then the man was forced upon his face and, in spite of his
+fierce struggles, his arms were bound around and around with strong fine
+cord; next his feet were bound in the same way, and the task was done.
+Then Hans stood upon his feet, and wiped the sweat from his swarthy
+forehead. “Listen, brother,” he whispered, and as he spoke he stooped
+and pressed something cold and hard against the neck of the other.
+“Dost thou know the feel of this? It is a broad dagger, and if thou
+dost contrive to loose that gag from thy mouth and makest any outcry, it
+shall be sheathed in thy weasand.”
+
+So saying, he thrust the knife back again into its sheath, then stooping
+and picking up the other, he flung him across his shoulder like a sack,
+and running down the steps as lightly as though his load was nothing at
+all, he carried his burden to the arched doorway whence he had come a
+little while before. There, having first stripped his prisoner of
+all his weapons, Hans sat the man up in the angle of the wall. “So,
+brother;” said he, “now we can talk with more ease than we could up
+yonder. I will tell thee frankly why I am here; it is to find where the
+young Baron Otto of Drachenhausen is kept. If thou canst tell me,
+well and good; if not, I must e’en cut thy weasand and find me one who
+knoweth more. Now, canst thou tell me what I would learn, brother?”
+
+The other nodded dimly in the darkness.
+
+“That is good,” said Hans, “then I will loose thy gag until thou hast
+told me; only bear in mind what I said concerning my dagger.”
+
+Thereupon, he unbound his prisoner, and the fellow slowly rose to his
+feet. He shook himself and looked all about him in a heavy, bewildered
+fashion, as though he had just awakened from a dream.
+
+His right hand slid furtively down to his side, but the dagger-sheath
+was empty.
+
+“Come, brother!” said Hans, impatiently, “time is passing, and once lost
+can never be found again. Show me the way to the young Baron Otto or--.”
+ And he whetted the shining blade of his dagger on his horny palm.
+
+The fellow needed no further bidding; turning, he led the way, and
+together they were swallowed up in the yawning shadows, and again the
+hush of night-time lay upon the Castle of Trutz-Drachen.
+
+
+
+
+XI. How Otto was Saved.
+
+Little Otto was lying upon the hard couch in his cell, tossing in
+restless and feverish sleep; suddenly a heavy hand was laid upon him and
+a voice whispered in his ear, “Baron, Baron Otto, waken, rouse yourself;
+I am come to help you. I am One-eyed Hans.”
+
+Otto was awake in an instant and raised himself upon his elbow in the
+darkness. “One-eyed Hans,” he breathed, “One-eyed Hans; who is One-eyed
+Hans?”
+
+“True,” said the other, “thou dost not know me. I am thy father’s
+trusted servant, and am the only one excepting his own blood and kin
+who has clung to him in this hour of trouble. Yes, all are gone but me
+alone, and so I have come to help thee away from this vile place.”
+
+“Oh, dear, good Hans! if only thou canst!” cried Otto; “if only thou
+canst take me away from this wicked place. Alas, dear Hans! I am weary
+and sick to death.” And poor little Otto began to weep silently in the
+darkness.
+
+“Aye, aye,” said Hans, gruffly, “it is no place for a little child
+to be. Canst thou climb, my little master? canst thou climb a knotted
+rope?”
+
+“Nay,” said Otto, “I can never climb again! See, Hans;” and he flung
+back the covers from off him.
+
+“I cannot see,” said Hans, “it is too dark.”
+
+“Then feel, dear Hans,” said Otto.
+
+Hans bent over the poor little white figure glimmering palely in the
+darkness. Suddenly he drew back with a snarl like an angry wolf. “Oh!
+the black, bloody wretches!” he cried, hoarsely; “and have they done
+that to thee, a little child?”
+
+“Yes,” said Otto, “the Baron Henry did it.” And then again he began to
+cry.
+
+“There, there,” said Hans, roughly, “weep no more. Thou shalt get away
+from here even if thou canst not climb; I myself will help thee. Thy
+father is already waiting below the window here, and thou shalt soon be
+with him. There, there, cry no more.”
+
+While he was speaking Hans had stripped off his peddler’s leathern
+jacket, and there, around his body, was wrapped coil after coil of stout
+hempen rope tied in knots at short distances. He began unwinding the
+rope, and when he had done he was as thin as ever he had been before.
+Next he drew from the pouch that hung at his side a ball of fine cord
+and a leaden weight pierced by a hole, both of which he had brought with
+him for the use to which he now put them. He tied the lead to the end of
+the cord, then whirling the weight above his head, he flung it up toward
+the window high above. Twice the piece of lead fell back again into the
+room; the third time it flew out between the iron bars carrying the cord
+with it. Hans held the ball in his hand and paid out the string as the
+weight carried it downward toward the ground beneath. Suddenly the cord
+stopped running. Hans jerked it and shook it, but it moved no farther.
+“Pray heaven, little child,” said he, “that it hath reached the ground,
+for if it hath not we are certainly lost.”
+
+“I do pray,” said Otto, and he bowed his head.
+
+Then, as though in answer to his prayer, there came a twitch upon the
+cord.
+
+“See,” said Hans, “they have heard thee up above in heaven; it was thy
+father who did that.” Quickly and deftly he tied the cord to the end of
+the knotted rope; then he gave an answering jerk upon the string. The
+next moment the rope was drawn up to the window and down the outside by
+those below. Otto lay watching the rope as it crawled up to the window
+and out into the night like a great snake, while One-eyed Hans held the
+other end lest it should be drawn too far. At last it stopped. “Good,”
+ muttered Hans, as though to himself. “The rope is long enough.”
+
+He waited for a few minutes and then, drawing upon the rope and finding
+that it was held from below, he spat upon his hands and began slowly
+climbing up to the window above. Winding his arm around the iron bars of
+the grating that guarded it, he thrust his hand into the pouch that hung
+by his side, and drawing forth a file, fell to work cutting through all
+that now lay between Otto and liberty.
+
+It was slow, slow work, and it seemed to Otto as though Hans would never
+finish his task, as lying upon his hard couch he watched that figure,
+black against the sky, bending over its work. Now and then the file
+screeched against the hard iron, and then Hans would cease for a moment,
+but only to begin again as industriously as ever. Three or four times he
+tried the effects of his work, but still the iron held. At last he
+set his shoulder against it, and as Otto looked he saw the iron bend.
+Suddenly there was a sharp crack, and a piece of the grating went flying
+out into the night.
+
+Hans tied the rope securely about the stump of the stout iron bar that
+yet remained, and then slid down again into the room below.
+
+“My little lord,” said he, “dost thou think that if I carry thee, thou
+wilt be able and strong enough to cling to my neck?”
+
+“Aye,” said Otto, “methinks I will be able to do that.”
+
+“Then come,” said Hans.
+
+He stooped as he spoke, and gently lifting Otto from his rude and rugged
+bed he drew his broad leathern belt around them both, buckling it firmly
+and securely. “It does not hurt thee?” said he.
+
+“Not much,” whispered Otto faintly.
+
+Then Hans spat upon his hands, and began slowly climbing the rope.
+
+They reached the edge of the window and there they rested for a moment,
+and Otto renewed his hold around the neck of the faithful Hans.
+
+“And now art thou ready?” said Hans
+
+“Aye,” said Otto.
+
+“Then courage,” said Hans, and he turned and swung his leg over the
+abyss below.
+
+The next moment they were hanging in mid-air.
+
+Otto looked down and gave a gasp. “The mother of heaven bless us,” he
+whispered, and then closed his eyes, faint and dizzy at the sight of
+that sheer depth beneath. Hans said nothing, but shutting his teeth
+and wrapping his legs around the rope, he began slowly descending, hand
+under hand. Down, down, down he went, until to Otto, with his eyes shut
+and his head leaning upon Hans’ shoulder, it seemed as though it could
+never end. Down, down, down. Suddenly he felt Hans draw a deep breath;
+there was a slight jar, and Otto opened his eyes; Hans was standing upon
+the ground.
+
+A figure wrapped in a dark cloak arose from the shadow of the wall, and
+took Otto in its arms. It was Baron Conrad.
+
+“My son--my little child!” he cried, in a choked, trembling voice, and
+that was all. And Otto pressed his cheek against his father’s and began
+crying.
+
+Suddenly the Baron gave a sharp, fierce cry. “Dear Heaven!” he cried;
+“what have they done to thee?” But poor little Otto could not answer.
+
+“Oh!” gasped the Baron, in a strangled voice, “my little child! my
+little child!” And therewith he broke down, and his whole body shook
+with fierce, dry sobs; for men in those days did not seek to hide their
+grief as they do now, but were fierce and strong in the expression of
+that as of all else.
+
+“Never mind, dear father,” whispered Otto; “it did not hurt me so very
+much,” and he pressed his lips against his father’s cheek.
+
+Little Otto had but one hand.
+
+
+
+
+XII. A Ride For Life.
+
+But not yet was Otto safe, and all danger past and gone by. Suddenly, as
+they stood there, the harsh clangor of a bell broke the silence of
+the starry night above their heads, and as they raised their faces and
+looked up, they saw lights flashing from window to window. Presently
+came the sound of a hoarse voice shouting something that, from the
+distance, they could not understand.
+
+One-eyed Hans smote his hand upon his thigh. “Look,” said he, “here is
+what comes of having a soft heart in one’s bosom. I overcame and bound a
+watchman up yonder, and forced him to tell me where our young Baron lay.
+It was on my mind to run my knife into him after he had told me every
+thing, but then, bethinking how the young Baron hated the thought of
+bloodshed, I said to myself, ‘No, Hans, I will spare the villain’s
+life.’ See now what comes of being merciful; here, by hook or by crook,
+the fellow has loosed himself from his bonds, and brings the whole
+castle about our ears like a nest of wasps.”
+
+“We must fly,” said the Baron; “for nothing else in the world is
+left me, now that all have deserted me in this black time of trouble,
+excepting these six faithful ones.”
+
+His voice was bitter, bitter, as he spoke; then stooping, he raised Otto
+in his arms, and bearing him gently, began rapidly descending the rocky
+slope to the level road that ran along the edge of the hill beneath.
+Close behind him followed the rest; Hans still grimed with soot and in
+his bare feet. A little distance from the road and under the shade of
+the forest trees, seven horses stood waiting. The Baron mounted upon
+his great black charger, seating little Otto upon the saddle in front of
+him. “Forward!” he cried, and away they clattered and out upon the road.
+Then--“To St. Michaelsburg,” said Baron Conrad, in his deep voice, and
+the horses’ heads were turned to the westward, and away they galloped
+through the black shadows of the forest, leaving Trutz-Drachen behind
+them.
+
+But still the sound of the alarm bell rang through the beating of the
+horses’ hoofs, and as Hans looked over his shoulder, he saw the light
+of torches flashing hither and thither along the outer walls in front of
+the great barbican.
+
+In Castle Trutz-Drachen all was confusion and uproar: flashing torches
+lit up the dull gray walls; horses neighed and stamped, and men shouted
+and called to one another in the bustle of making ready. Presently Baron
+Henry came striding along the corridor clad in light armor, which he had
+hastily donned when roused from his sleep by the news that his prisoner
+had escaped. Below in the courtyard his horse was standing, and without
+waiting for assistance, he swung himself into the saddle. Then away they
+all rode and down the steep path, armor ringing, swords clanking, and
+iron-shod hoofs striking sparks of fire from the hard stones. At their
+head rode Baron Henry; his triangular shield hung over his shoulder, and
+in his hand he bore a long, heavy, steel-pointed lance with a pennant
+flickering darkly from the end.
+
+At the high-road at the base of the slope they paused, for they were at
+a loss to know which direction the fugitives had taken; a half a score
+of the retainers leaped from their horses, and began hurrying about
+hither and thither, and up and down, like hounds searching for the lost
+scent, and all the time Baron Henry sat still as a rock in the midst of
+the confusion.
+
+Suddenly a shout was raised from the forest just beyond the road; they
+had come upon the place where the horses had been tied. It was an easy
+matter to trace the way that Baron Conrad and his followers had taken
+thence back to the high-road, but there again they were at a loss. The
+road ran straight as an arrow eastward and westward--had the fugitives
+taken their way to the east or to the west?
+
+Baron Henry called his head-man, Nicholas Stein, to him, and the
+two spoke together for a while in an undertone. At last the Baron’s
+lieutenant reined his horse back, and choosing first one and then
+another, divided the company into two parties. The baron placed himself
+at the head of one band and Nicholas Stein at the head of the other.
+“Forward!” he cried, and away clattered the two companies of horsemen in
+opposite directions.
+
+It was toward the westward that Baron Henry of Trutz-Drachen rode at the
+head of his men.
+
+The early springtide sun shot its rays of misty, yellow light across the
+rolling tops of the forest trees where the little birds were singing in
+the glory of the May morning. But Baron Henry and his followers thought
+nothing of the beauty of the peaceful day, and heard nothing of the
+multitudinous sound of the singing birds as, with a confused sound of
+galloping hoofs, they swept along the highway, leaving behind them a
+slow-curling, low-trailing cloud of dust.
+
+As the sun rose more full and warm, the misty wreaths began to dissolve,
+until at last they parted and rolled asunder like a white curtain and
+there, before the pursuing horsemen, lay the crest of the mountain
+toward which they were riding, and up which the road wound steeply.
+
+“Yonder they are,” cried a sudden voice behind Baron Henry of
+Trutz-Drachen, and at the cry all looked upward.
+
+Far away upon the mountain-side curled a cloud of dust, from the midst
+of which came the star-like flash of burnished armor gleaming in the
+sun.
+
+Baron Henry said never a word, but his lips curled in a grim smile.
+
+And as the mist wreaths parted One-eyed Hans looked behind and down
+into the leafy valley beneath. “Yonder they come,” said he. “They have
+followed sharply to gain so much upon us, even though our horses are
+wearied with all the travelling we have done hither and yon these five
+days past. How far is it, Lord Baron, from here to Michaelsburg?”
+
+“About ten leagues,” said the Baron, in a gloomy voice.
+
+Hans puckered his mouth as though to whistle, but the Baron saw nothing
+of it, for he was gazing straight before him with a set and stony face.
+Those who followed him looked at one another, and the same thought was
+in the mind of each--how long would it be before those who pursued would
+close the distance between them?
+
+When that happened it meant death to one and all.
+
+They reached the crest of the hill, and down they dashed upon the other
+side; for there the road was smooth and level as it sloped away into the
+valley, but it was in dead silence that they rode. Now and then those
+who followed the Baron looked back over their shoulders. They had gained
+a mile upon their pursuers when the helmeted heads rose above the crest
+of the mountain, but what was the gain of a mile with a smooth road
+between them, and fresh horses to weary ones?
+
+On they rode and on they rode. The sun rose higher and higher, and
+hotter and hotter. There was no time to rest and water their panting
+horses. Only once, when they crossed a shallow stretch of water, the
+poor animals bent their heads and caught a few gulps from the cool
+stream, and the One-eyed Hans washed a part of the soot from his hands
+and face. On and on they rode; never once did the Baron Conrad move his
+head or alter that steadfast look as, gazing straight before him, he
+rode steadily forward along the endless stretch of road, with poor
+little Otto’s yellow head and white face resting against his steel-clad
+shoulder--and St. Michaelsburg still eight leagues away.
+
+A little rise of ground lay before them, and as they climbed it, all,
+excepting the baron, turned their heads as with one accord and looked
+behind them. Then more than one heart failed, for through the leaves
+of the trees below, they caught the glint of armor of those who
+followed--not more than a mile away. The next moment they swept over the
+crest, and there, below them, lay the broad shining river, and nearer a
+tributary stream spanned by a rude, narrow, three-arched, stone bridge
+where the road crossed the deep, slow-moving water.
+
+Down the slope plodded the weary horses, and so to the bridge-head.
+
+“Halt,” cried the baron suddenly, and drew rein.
+
+The others stood bewildered. What did he mean to do? He turned to Hans
+and his blue eyes shone like steel.
+
+“Hans,” said he, in his deep voice, “thou hast served me long and truly;
+wilt thou for this one last time do my bidding?”
+
+“Aye,” said Hans, briefly.
+
+“Swear it,” said the Baron.
+
+“I swear it,” said Hans, and he drew the sign of the cross upon his
+heart.
+
+“That is good,” said the Baron, grimly. “Then take thou this child,
+and with the others ride with all the speed that thou canst to St.
+Michaelsburg. Give the child into the charge of the Abbot Otto. Tell
+him how that I have sworn fealty to the Emperor, and what I have gained
+thereby--my castle burnt, my people slain, and this poor, simple child,
+my only son, mutilated by my enemy.
+
+“And thou, my Lord Baron?” said Hans.
+
+“I will stay here,” said the Baron, quietly, “and keep back those who
+follow as long as God will give me grace so to do.”
+
+A murmur of remonstrance rose among the faithful few who were with
+him, two of whom were near of kin. But Conrad of Drachenhausen turned
+fiercely upon them.
+
+“How now,” said he, “have I fallen so low in my troubles that even ye
+dare to raise your voices against me? By the good Heaven, I will begin
+my work here by slaying the first man who dares to raise word against
+my bidding.” Then he turned from them. “Here, Hans,” said he, “take the
+boy; and remember, knave, what thou hast sworn.”
+
+He pressed Otto close to his breast in one last embrace. “My little
+child,” he murmured, “try not to hate thy father when thou thinkest of
+him hereafter, even though he be hard and bloody as thou knowest.”
+
+But with his suffering and weakness, little Otto knew nothing of what
+was passing; it was only as in a faint flickering dream that he lived in
+what was done around him.
+
+“Farewell, Otto,” said the Baron, but Otto’s lips only moved faintly in
+answer. His father kissed him upon either cheek. “Come, Hans,” said
+he, hastily, “take him hence;” and he loosed Otto’s arms from about his
+neck.
+
+Hans took Otto upon the saddle in front of him.
+
+“Oh! my dear Lord Baron,” said he, and then stopped with a gulp, and
+turned his grotesquely twitching face aside.
+
+“Go,” said the Baron, harshly, “there is no time to lose in woman’s
+tears.”
+
+“Farewell, Conrad! farewell, Conrad!” said his two kinsmen, and coming
+forward they kissed him upon the cheek then they turned and rode away
+after Hans, and Baron Conrad was left alone to face his mortal foe.
+
+
+
+
+XIII. How Baron Conrad Held the Bridge.
+
+As the last of his followers swept around the curving road and was lost
+to sight, Baron Conrad gave himself a shake, as though to drive away the
+thoughts that lay upon him. Then he rode slowly forward to the middle of
+the bridge, where he wheeled his horse so as to face his coming enemies.
+He lowered the vizor of his helmet and bolted it to its place, and then
+saw that sword and dagger were loose in the scabbard and easy to draw
+when the need for drawing should arise.
+
+
+Down the steep path from the hill above swept the pursuing horsemen.
+Down the steep path to the bridge-head and there drew rein; for in the
+middle of the narrow way sat the motionless, steel-clad figure upon the
+great war-horse, with wide, red, panting nostrils, and body streaked
+with sweat and flecked with patches of foam.
+
+One side of the roadway of the bridge was guarded by a low stone wall;
+the other side was naked and open and bare to the deep, slow-moving
+water beneath. It was a dangerous place to attack a desperate man clad
+in armor of proof.
+
+“Forward!” cried Baron Henry, but not a soul stirred in answer, and
+still the iron-clad figure sat motionless and erect upon the panting
+horse.
+
+“How,” cried the Baron Henry, “are ye afraid of one man? Then follow
+me!” and he spurred forward to the bridge-head. But still no one moved
+in answer, and the Lord of Trutz-Drachen reined back his horse again.
+He wheeled his horse and glared round upon the stolid faces of his
+followers, until his eyes seemed fairly to blaze with passion beneath
+the bars of his vizor.
+
+Baron Conrad gave a roar of laughter. “How now,” he cried; “are ye all
+afraid of one man? Is there none among ye that dares come forward and
+meet me? I know thee, Baron Henry! thou art not afraid to cut off the
+hand of a little child. Hast thou not now the courage to face the
+father?”
+
+Baron Henry gnashed his teeth with rage as he glared around upon the
+faces of his men-at-arms. Suddenly his eye lit upon one of them. “Ha!
+Carl Spigler,” he cried, “thou hast thy cross-bow with thee;--shoot me
+down yonder dog! Nay,” he said, “thou canst do him no harm under his
+armor; shoot the horse upon which he sits.”
+
+Baron Conrad heard the speech. “Oh! thou coward villain!” he cried,
+“stay; do not shoot the good horse. I will dismount and fight ye upon
+foot.” Thereupon, armed as he was, he leaped clashing from his horse and
+turning the animal’s head, gave it a slap upon the flank. The good horse
+first trotted and then walked to the further end of the bridge, where it
+stopped and began cropping at the grass that grew beside the road.
+
+“Now then!” cried Baron Henry, fiercely, “now then, ye cannot fear him,
+villains! Down with him! forward!”
+
+Slowly the troopers spurred their horses forward upon the bridge and
+toward that one figure that, grasping tightly the great two-handed
+sword, stood there alone guarding the passage.
+
+Then Baron Conrad whirled the great blade above his head, until it
+caught the sunlight and flashed again. He did not wait for the attack,
+but when the first of the advancing horsemen had come within a few feet
+of him, he leaped with a shout upon them. The fellow thrust at him with
+his lance, and the Baron went staggering a few feet back, but instantly
+he recovered himself and again leaped forward. The great sword flashed
+in the air, whistling; it fell, and the nearest man dropped his lance,
+clattering, and with a loud, inarticulate cry, grasped the mane of his
+horse with both hands. Again the blade whistled in the air, and this
+time it was stained with red. Again it fell, and with another shrill cry
+the man toppled headlong beneath the horse’s feet. The next instant they
+were upon him, each striving to strike at the one figure, to ride him
+down, or to thrust him down with their lances. There was no room now to
+swing the long blade, but holding the hilt in both hands, Baron Conrad
+thrust with it as though it were a lance, stabbing at horse or man, it
+mattered not. Crowded upon the narrow roadway of the bridge, those who
+attacked had not only to guard themselves against the dreadful strokes
+of that terrible sword, but to keep their wounded horses (rearing and
+mad with fright) from toppling bodily over with them into the water
+beneath.
+
+Presently the cry was raised, “Back! back!” And those nearest the Baron
+began reining in their horses. “Forward!” roared Baron Henry, from the
+midst of the crowd; but in spite of his command, and even the blows that
+he gave, those behind were borne back by those in front, struggling and
+shouting, and the bridge was cleared again excepting for three figures
+that lay motionless upon the roadway, and that one who, with the
+brightness of his armor dimmed and stained, leaned panting against the
+wall of the bridge.
+
+The Baron Henry raged like a madman. Gnashing his teeth together, he
+rode back a little way; then turning and couching his lance, he suddenly
+clapped spurs to his horse, and the next instant came thundering down
+upon his solitary enemy.
+
+Baron Conrad whirled his sword in the air, as he saw the other coming
+like a thunderbolt upon him; he leaped aside, and the lance passed close
+to him. As it passed he struck, and the iron point flew from the shaft
+of the spear at the blow, and fell clattering upon the stone roadway of
+the bridge.
+
+Baron Henry drew in his horse until it rested upon its haunches, then
+slowly reined it backward down the bridge, still facing his foe,
+and still holding the wooden stump of the lance in his hand. At the
+bridge-head he flung it from him.
+
+“Another lance!” he cried, hoarsely. One was silently reached to him
+and he took it, his hand trembling with rage. Again he rode to a little
+distance and wheeled his horse; then, driving his steel spurs into its
+quivering side, he came again thundering down upon the other. Once more
+the terrible sword whirled in the air and fell, but this time the lance
+was snatched to one side and the blow fell harmlessly. The next instant,
+and with a twitch of the bridle-rein, the horse struck full and fair
+against the man.
+
+Conrad of Drachenhausen was whirled backward and downward, and the cruel
+iron hoofs crashed over his prostrate body, as horse and man passed with
+a rush beyond him and to the bridge-head beyond. A shout went up from
+those who stood watching. The next moment the prostrate figure rose and
+staggered blindly to the side of the bridge, and stood leaning against
+the stone wall.
+
+At the further end of the bridge Baron Henry had wheeled his horse. Once
+again he couched lance, and again he drove down upon his bruised and
+wounded enemy. This time the lance struck full and fair, and those who
+watched saw the steel point pierce the iron breast-plate and then snap
+short, leaving the barbed point within the wound.
+
+Baron Conrad sunk to his knees and the Roderburg, looming upon his horse
+above him, unsheathed his sword to finish the work he had begun.
+
+Then those who stood looking on saw a wondrous thing happen: the wounded
+man rose suddenly to his feet, and before his enemy could strike he
+leaped, with a great and bitter cry of agony and despair, upon him as he
+sat in the saddle above.
+
+Henry of Trutz-Drachen grasped at his horse’s mane, but the attack
+was so fierce, so sudden, and so unexpected that before he could save
+himself he was dragged to one side and fell crashing in his armor upon
+the stone roadway of the bridge.
+
+“The dragon! the dragon!” roared Baron Conrad, in a voice of thunder,
+and with the energy of despair he dragged his prostrate foe toward the
+open side of the bridge.
+
+“Forward!” cried the chief of the Trutz-Drachen men, and down they rode
+upon the struggling knights to the rescue of their master in this new
+danger. But they were too late.
+
+There was a pause at the edge of the bridge, for Baron Henry had gained
+his feet and, stunned and bewildered as he was by the suddenness of his
+fall, he was now struggling fiercely, desperately. For a moment they
+stood swaying backward and forward, clasped in one another’s arms, the
+blood from the wounded man’s breast staining the armor of both. The
+moment passed and then, with a shower of stones and mortar from beneath
+their iron-shod heels, they toppled and fell; there was a thunderous
+splash in the water below, and as the men-at-arms came hurrying up and
+peered with awe-struck faces over the parapet of the bridge, they saw
+the whirling eddies sweep down with the current of the stream, a few
+bubbles rise to the surface of the water, and then--nothing; for the
+smooth river flowed onward as silently as ever.
+
+Presently a loud voice burst through the awed hush that followed. It
+came from William of Roderburg, Baron Henry’s kinsman.
+
+“Forward!” he cried. A murmur of voices from the others was all the
+answer that he received. “Forward!” cried the young man again, “the boy
+and those with him are not so far away but that we might yet catch up
+with them.”
+
+Then one of the men spoke up in answer--a man with a seamed,
+weather-beaten face and crisp grizzled hair. “Nay,” said he, “our Lord
+Baron is gone, and this is no quarrel of ours; here be four of us that
+are wounded and three I misdoubt that are dead; why should we follow
+further only to suffer more blows for no gain?” A growl of assent rose
+from those that stood around, and William of Roderburg saw that nothing
+more was to be done by the Trutz-Dragons that day.
+
+
+
+
+XIV. How Otto Saw the Great Emperor.
+
+Through weakness and sickness and faintness, Otto had lain in a half
+swoon through all that long journey under the hot May sun. It was as in
+a dreadful nightmare that he had heard on and on and on that monotonous
+throbbing of galloping hoofs upon the ground; had felt that last kiss
+that his father had given him upon his cheek. Then the onward ride
+again, until all faded away into a dull mist and he knew no more. When
+next he woke it was with the pungent smell of burned vinegar in his
+nostrils and with the feeling of a cool napkin bathing his brow. He
+opened his eyes and then closed them again, thinking he must have been
+in a dream, for he lay in his old room at the peaceful monastery of the
+White Cross on the hill; the good Father Abbot sat near by, gazing upon
+his face with the old absent student look, Brother John sat in the deep
+window seat also gazing at him, and Brother Theodore, the leech of the
+monastery, sat beside him bathing his head. Beside these old familiar
+faces were the faces of those who had been with him in that long flight;
+the One-eyed Hans, old Master Nicholas his kinsman, and the others.
+So he closed his eyes, thinking that maybe it was all a dream. But the
+sharp throbbing of the poor stump at his wrist soon taught him that he
+was still awake.
+
+“Am I then really home in St. Michaelsburg again?” he murmured, without
+unclosing his eyes.
+
+Brother Theodore began snuffling through his nose; there was a pause.
+“Yes,” said the old Abbot at last, and his gentle voice trembled as
+he spoke; “yes, my dear little child, thou art back again in thine own
+home; thou hast not been long out in the great world, but truly thou
+hast had a sharp and bitter trial of it.”
+
+“But they will not take me away again, will they?” said Otto quickly,
+unclosing his blue eyes.
+
+“Nay,” said the Abbot, gently; “not until thou art healed in body and
+art ready and willing to go.”
+
+Three months and more had passed, and Otto was well again; and now,
+escorted by One-eyed Hans and those faithful few who had clung to the
+Baron Conrad through his last few bitter days, he was riding into the
+quaint old town of Nurnburg; for the Emperor Rudolph was there at that
+time, waiting for King Ottocar of Bohemia to come thither and answer
+the imperial summons before the Council, and Otto was travelling to the
+court.
+
+As they rode in through the gates of the town, Otto looked up at the
+high-peaked houses with their overhanging gables, the like of which he
+had never seen before, and he stared with his round blue eyes at seeing
+them so crowded together along the length of the street. But most of
+all he wondered at the number of people that passed hither and thither,
+jostling each other in their hurry, and at the tradesmen’s booths
+opening upon the street with the wonderful wares hanging within; armor
+at the smiths, glittering ornaments at the goldsmiths, and rich fabrics
+of silks and satins at the mercers. He had never seen anything so rich
+and grand in all of his life, for little Otto had never been in a town
+before.
+
+“Oh! look,” he cried, “at that wonderful lady; see, holy father! sure
+the Emperor’s wife can be no finer than that lady.”
+
+The Abbot smiled. “Nay, Otto,” said he, “that is but a burgher’s wife or
+daughter; the ladies at the Emperor’s court are far grander than such as
+she.”
+
+“So!” said Otto, and then fell silent with wonder.
+
+And now, at last the great moment had come when little Otto with his own
+eyes was to behold the mighty Emperor who ruled over all the powerful
+kingdoms of Germany and Austria, and Italy and Bohemia, and other
+kingdoms and principalities and states. His heart beat so that he could
+hardly speak as, for a moment, the good Abbot who held him by the hand
+stopped outside of the arrased doorway to whisper some last instructions
+into his ear. Then they entered the apartment.
+
+It was a long, stone-paved room. The floor was covered with rich rugs
+and the walls were hung with woven tapestry wherein were depicted
+knights and ladies in leafy gardens and kings and warriors at battle.
+A long row of high glazed windows extended along the length of the
+apartment, flooding it with the mellow light of the autumn day. At
+the further end of the room, far away, and standing by a great carved
+chimney place wherein smouldered the remains of a fire, stood a group of
+nobles in gorgeous dress of velvet and silks, and with glittering golden
+chains hung about their necks.
+
+One figure stood alone in front of the great yawning fireplace. His
+hands were clasped behind him, and his look bent thoughtfully upon the
+floor. He was dressed only in a simple gray robe without ornament or
+adornment, a plain leathern belt girded his waist, and from it hung a
+sword with a bone hilt encased in a brown leathern scabbard. A noble
+stag-hound lay close behind him, curled up upon the floor, basking in
+the grateful warmth of the fire.
+
+As the Father Abbot and Otto drew near he raised his head and looked
+at them. It was a plain, homely face that Otto saw, with a wrinkled
+forehead and a long mouth drawn down at the corners. It was the face of
+a good, honest burgher burdened with the cares of a prosperous trade.
+“Who can he be,” thought Otto, “and why does the poor man stand there
+among all the great nobles?”
+
+But the Abbot walked straight up to him and kneeled upon the floor,
+and little Otto, full of wonder, did the same. It was the great Emperor
+Rudolph.
+
+“Who have we here,” said the Emperor, and he bent his brow upon the
+Abbot and the boy.
+
+“Sire,” said Abbot Otto, “we have humbly besought you by petition, in
+the name of your late vassal, Baron Conrad of Vuelph of Drachenhausen,
+for justice to this his son, the Baron Otto, whom, sire, as you may see,
+hath been cruelly mutilated at the hands of Baron Henry of Roderburg of
+Trutz-Drachen. He hath moreover been despoiled of his lands, his castle
+burnt, and his household made prisoner.”
+
+The Emperor frowned until the shaggy eyebrows nearly hid the keen gray
+twinkle of the eyes beneath. “Yes,” said he, “I do remember me of
+that petition, and have given it consideration both in private and in
+council.” He turned to the group of listening nobles. “Look,” said he,
+“at this little child marred by the inhumanity and the cruelty of those
+robber villains. By heavens! I will put down their lawless rapine, if I
+have to give every castle from the north to the south to the flames and
+to the sword.” Then turning to Otto again, “Poor little child,” said he,
+“thy wrongs shall be righted, and so far as they are able, those cruel
+Roderburgs shall pay thee penny for penny, and grain for grain, for what
+thou hast lost; and until such indemnity hath been paid the family of
+the man who wrought this deed shall be held as surety.”
+
+Little Otto looked up in the kind, rugged face above him. “Nay, Lord
+Emperor,” said he, in his quaint, quiet way, “there are but two in the
+family--the mother and the daughter--and I have promised to marry the
+little girl when she and I are old enough; so, if you please, I would
+not have harm happen to her.”
+
+The Emperor continued to look down at the kneeling boy, and at last he
+gave a short, dry laugh. “So be it,” said he, “thy plan is not without
+its wisdom. Mayhap it is all for the best that the affair should be
+ended thus peacefully. The estates of the Roderburgs shall be held in
+trust for thee until thou art come of age; otherwise it shall be as thou
+hast proposed, the little maiden shall be taken into ward under our own
+care. And as to thee--art thou willing that I should take thee under my
+own charge in the room of thy father, who is dead?”
+
+“Aye,” said Otto, simply, “I am willing, for it seems to me that thou
+art a good man.”
+
+The nobles who stood near smiled at the boy’s speech. As for the
+Emperor, he laughed outright. “I give thee thanks, my Lord Baron,” said
+he; “there is no one in all my court who has paid me greater courtesy
+than that.”
+
+So comes the end of our tale.
+
+But perhaps you may like to know what happened afterward, for no one
+cares to leave the thread of a story without tying a knot in it.
+
+Eight years had passed, and Otto grew up to manhood in the Emperor’s
+court, and was with him through war and peace.
+
+But he himself never drew sword or struck a blow, for the right hand
+that hung at his side was of pure silver, and the hard, cold fingers
+never closed. Folks called him “Otto of the Silver Hand,” but perhaps
+there was another reason than that for the name that had been given him,
+for the pure, simple wisdom that the old monks of the White Cross on
+the hill had taught him, clung to him through all the honors that the
+Emperor bestowed upon his favorite, and as he grew older his words were
+listened to and weighed by those who were high in Council, and even by
+the Emperor himself.
+
+And now for the end of all.
+
+One day Otto stood uncertainly at the doorway of a room in the imperial
+castle, hesitating before he entered; and yet there was nothing so very
+dreadful within, only one poor girl whose heart fluttered more than his.
+Poor little Pauline, whom he had not seen since that last day in the
+black cell at Trutz-Drachen.
+
+At last he pushed aside the hangings and entered the room.
+
+She was sitting upon a rude bench beside the window, looking at him out
+of her great, dark eyes.
+
+He stopped short and stood for a moment confused and silent; for he had
+no thought in his mind but of the little girl whom he had last seen, and
+for a moment he stood confused before the fair maiden with her great,
+beautiful dark eyes.
+
+She on her part beheld a tall, slender youth with curling, golden hair,
+one hand white and delicate, the other of pure and shining silver.
+
+He came to her and took her hand and set it to his lips, and all that
+she could do was to gaze with her great, dark eyes upon the hero of whom
+she had heard so many talk; the favorite of the Emperor; the wise young
+Otto of the Silver Hand.
+
+
+
+
+Afterword
+
+The ruins of Drachenhausen were rebuilt, for the walls were as sound as
+ever, though empty and gaping to the sky; but it was no longer the den
+of a robber baron for beneath the scutcheon over the great gate was
+carved a new motto of the Vuelphs; a motto which the Emperor Rudolph
+himself had given:
+
+“Manus argentea quam manus ferrea melior est.”
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OTTO OF THE SILVER HAND ***
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+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Otto of the Silver Hand, by Howard Pyle</title>
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+    body { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify;}
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+<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Otto of the Silver Hand, by Howard Pyle</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
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+</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Otto of the Silver Hand</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Howard Pyle</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October, 2001 [eBook #2865]<br />
+[Most recently updated: October 28, 2023]</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Angus Christian and David Widger</div>
+<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OTTO OF THE SILVER HAND ***</div>
+
+<h1>OTTO OF THE SILVER HAND</h1>
+
+    <h2>
+      By Howard Pyle
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br /> <a href="#link2H_FORE"> FOREWORD. </a> <br /><br /><br /> <a
+        href="#link2H_4_0002"> I. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;The Dragon’s House. <br /><br />
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> II. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;How the Baron went Forth
+        to Shear. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> III. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;How
+        the Baron came Home Shorn. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> IV. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;The
+        White Cross on the Hill. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> V. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;How
+        Otto Dwelt at St. Michaelsburg. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VI.
+        </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;How Otto Lived in the Dragon’s House. <br /><br /> <a
+        href="#link2H_4_0008"> VII. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;The Red Cock Crows on
+        Drachenhausen. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VIII. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;In
+        the House of the Dragon Scorner. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0010">
+        IX. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;How One-eyed Hans came to Trutz-Drachen. <br /><br />
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> X. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;How Hans Brought Terror to
+        the Kitchen. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XI. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;How
+        Otto was Saved. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XII. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;A
+        Ride For Life. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIII.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;How
+        Baron Conrad Held the Bridge. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XIV.
+        </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;How Otto Saw the Great Emperor. <br /><br />
+      </p>
+    <p>
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> Afterword </a> <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_FORE" id="link2H_FORE">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      FOREWORD.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Between the far away past history of the world, and that which lies near
+      to us; in the time when the wisdom of the ancient times was dead and had
+      passed away, and our own days of light had not yet come, there lay a great
+      black gulf in human history, a gulf of ignorance, of superstition, of
+      cruelty, and of wickedness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That time we call the dark or middle ages.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Few records remain to us of that dreadful period in our world’s history,
+      and we only know of it through broken and disjointed fragments that have
+      been handed down to us through the generations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet, though the world’s life then was so wicked and black, there yet
+      remained a few good men and women here and there (mostly in peaceful and
+      quiet monasteries, far from the thunder and the glare of the worlds bloody
+      battle), who knew the right and the truth and lived according to what they
+      knew; who preserved and tenderly cared for the truths that the dear Christ
+      taught, and lived and died for in Palestine so long ago.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This tale that I am about to tell is of a little boy who lived and
+      suffered in those dark middle ages; of how he saw both the good and the
+      bad of men, and of how, by gentleness and love and not by strife and
+      hatred, he came at last to stand above other men and to be looked up to by
+      all. And should you follow the story to the end, I hope you may find it a
+      pleasure, as I have done, to ramble through those dark ancient castles, to
+      lie with little Otto and Brother John in the high belfry-tower, or to sit
+      with them in the peaceful quiet of the sunny old monastery garden, for, of
+      all the story, I love best those early peaceful years that little Otto
+      spent in the dear old White Cross on the Hill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor little Otto’s life was a stony and a thorny pathway, and it is well
+      for all of us nowadays that we walk it in fancy and not in truth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      I. The Dragon’s House.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Up from the gray rocks, rising sheer and bold and bare, stood the walls
+      and towers of Castle Drachenhausen. A great gate-way, with a heavy
+      iron-pointed portcullis hanging suspended in the dim arch above, yawned
+      blackly upon the bascule or falling drawbridge that spanned a chasm
+      between the blank stone walls and the roadway that ran winding down the steep
+      rocky slope to the little valley just beneath. There in the lap of the
+      hills around stood the wretched straw-thatched huts of the peasants
+      belonging to the castle—miserable serfs who, half timid, half
+      fierce, tilled their poor patches of ground, wrenching from the hard soil
+      barely enough to keep body and soul together. Among those vile hovels
+      played the little children like foxes about their dens, their wild, fierce
+      eyes peering out from under a mat of tangled yellow hair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Beyond these squalid huts lay the rushing, foaming river, spanned by a
+      high, rude, stone bridge where the road from the castle crossed it, and
+      beyond the river stretched the great, black forest, within whose gloomy
+      depths the savage wild beasts made their lair, and where in winter time
+      the howling wolves coursed their flying prey across the moonlit snow and
+      under the net-work of the black shadows from the naked boughs above.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The watchman in the cold, windy bartizan or watch-tower that clung to the
+      gray walls above the castle gateway, looked from his narrow window, where
+      the wind piped and hummed, across the tree-tops that rolled in endless
+      billows of green, over hill and over valley to the blue and distant slope
+      of the Keiserberg, where, on the mountain side, glimmered far away the
+      walls of Castle Trutz-Drachen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Within the massive stone walls through which the gaping gateway led, three
+      great cheerless brick buildings, so forbidding that even the yellow
+      sunlight could not light them into brightness, looked down, with row upon
+      row of windows, upon three sides of the bleak, stone courtyard. Back of
+      and above them clustered a jumble of other buildings, tower and turret,
+      one high-peaked roof overtopping another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The great house in the centre was the Baron’s Hall, the part to the left
+      was called the Roderhausen; between the two stood a huge square pile,
+      rising dizzily up into the clear air high above the rest—the great
+      Melchior Tower.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the top clustered a jumble of buildings hanging high aloft in the windy
+      space; a crooked wooden belfry, a tall, narrow watch-tower, and a rude
+      wooden house that clung partly to the roof of the great tower and partly
+      to the walls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From the chimney of this crazy hut a thin thread of smoke would now and
+      then rise into the air, for there were folk living far up in that empty,
+      airy desert, and oftentimes wild, uncouth little children were seen
+      playing on the edge of the dizzy height, or sitting with their bare legs
+      hanging down over the sheer depths, as they gazed below at what was going
+      on in the court-yard. There they sat, just as little children in the town
+      might sit upon their father’s door-step; and as the sparrows might fly
+      around the feet of the little town children, so the circling flocks of
+      rooks and daws flew around the feet of these air-born creatures.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Schwartz Carl and his wife and little ones who lived far up there
+      in the Melchior Tower, for it overlooked the top of the hill behind the
+      castle and so down into the valley upon the further side. There, day after
+      day, Schwartz Carl kept watch upon the gray road that ran like a ribbon
+      through the valley, from the rich town of Gruenstaldt to the rich town of
+      Staffenburgen, where passed merchant caravans from the one to the other—for
+      the lord of Drachenhausen was a robber baron.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dong! Dong! The great alarm bell would suddenly ring out from the belfry
+      high up upon the Melchior Tower. Dong! Dong! Till the rooks and daws
+      whirled clamoring and screaming. Dong! Dong! Till the fierce wolf-hounds
+      in the rocky kennels behind the castle stables howled dismally in answer.
+      Dong! Dong!—Dong! Dong!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then would follow a great noise and uproar and hurry in the castle
+      court-yard below; men shouting and calling to one another, the ringing of
+      armor, and the clatter of horses’ hoofs upon the hard stone. With the
+      creaking and groaning of the windlass the iron-pointed portcullis would be
+      slowly raised, and with a clank and rattle and clash of iron chains the
+      drawbridge would fall crashing. Then over it would thunder horse and man,
+      clattering away down the winding, stony pathway, until the great forest
+      would swallow them, and they would be gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then for a while peace would fall upon the castle courtyard, the cock
+      would crow, the cook would scold a lazy maid, and Gretchen, leaning out of
+      a window, would sing a snatch of a song, just as though it were a peaceful
+      farm-house, instead of a den of robbers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maybe it would be evening before the men would return once more. Perhaps
+      one would have a bloody cloth bound about his head, perhaps one would
+      carry his arm in a sling; perhaps one—maybe more than one—would
+      be left behind, never to return again, and soon forgotten by all excepting
+      some poor woman who would weep silently in the loneliness of her daily
+      work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nearly always the adventurers would bring back with them pack-horses laden
+      with bales of goods. Sometimes, besides these, they would return with a
+      poor soul, his hands tied behind his back and his feet beneath the horse’s
+      body, his fur cloak and his flat cap wofully awry. A while he would
+      disappear in some gloomy cell of the dungeon-keep, until an envoy would
+      come from the town with a fat purse, when his ransom would be paid, the
+      dungeon would disgorge him, and he would be allowed to go upon his way
+      again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One man always rode beside Baron Conrad in his expeditions and
+      adventures—a short, deep-chested, broad-shouldered man, with sinewy arms
+      so long that when he stood his hands hung nearly to his knees.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His coarse, close-clipped hair came so low upon his brow that only a strip
+      of forehead showed between it and his bushy, black eyebrows. One eye was
+      blind; the other twinkled and gleamed like a spark under the penthouse of
+      his brows. Many folk said that the one-eyed Hans had drunk beer with the
+      Hill-man, who had given him the strength of ten, for he could bend an iron
+      spit like a hazel twig, and could lift a barrel of wine from the floor to
+      his head as easily as though it were a basket of eggs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for the one-eyed Hans he never said that he had not drunk beer with the
+      Hill-man, for he liked the credit that such reports gave him with the
+      other folk. And so, like a half savage mastiff, faithful to death to his
+      master, but to him alone, he went his sullen way and lived his sullen life
+      within the castle walls, half respected, half feared by the other inmates,
+      for it was dangerous trifling with the one-eyed Hans.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      II. How the Baron went Forth to Shear.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Baron Conrad and Baroness Matilda sat together at their morning meal; below
+      their raised seats stretched the long, heavy wooden table, loaded with
+      coarse food—black bread, boiled cabbage, bacon, eggs, a great chine
+      from a wild boar, sausages, such as we eat nowadays, and flagons and jars
+      of beer and wine. Along the board sat ranged in the order of the household
+      the followers and retainers. Four or five slatternly women and girls
+      served the others as they fed noisily at the table, moving here and there
+      behind the men with wooden or pewter dishes of food, now and then laughing
+      at the jests that passed or joining in the talk. A huge fire blazed and
+      crackled and roared in the great open fireplace, before which were
+      stretched two fierce, shaggy, wolfish-looking hounds. Outside, the rain
+      beat upon the roof or ran trickling from the eaves, and every now and then
+      a chill draught of wind would breathe through the open windows of the
+      great black dining-hall and set the fire roaring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Along the dull-gray wall of stone hung pieces of armor, and swords and
+      lances, and great branching antlers of the stag. Overhead arched the rude,
+      heavy, oaken beams, blackened with age and smoke, and underfoot was a
+      chill pavement of stone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon Baron Conrad’s shoulder leaned the pale, slender, yellow-haired
+      Baroness, the only one in all the world with whom the fierce lord of
+      Drachenhausen softened to gentleness, the only one upon whom his savage
+      brows looked kindly, and to whom his harsh voice softened with love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Baroness was talking to her husband in a low voice, as he looked down
+      into her pale face, with its gentle blue eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “And wilt thou not, then,” said she, “do that one thing for me?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nay,” he growled, in his deep voice, “I cannot promise thee never more to
+      attack the towns-people in the valley over yonder. How else could I live
+      an’ I did not take from the fat town hogs to fill our own larder?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nay,” said the Baroness, “thou couldst live as some others do, for all do
+      not rob the burgher folk as thou dost. Alas! mishap will come upon thee
+      some day, and if thou shouldst be slain, what then would come of me?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Prut,” said the Baron, “thy foolish fears” But he laid his rough, hairy
+      hand softly upon the Baroness’ head and stroked her yellow hair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “For my sake, Conrad,” whispered the Baroness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A pause followed. The Baron sat looking thoughtfully down into the
+      Baroness’ face. A moment more, and he might have promised what she
+      besought; a moment more, and he might have been saved all the bitter
+      trouble that was to follow. But it was not to be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly a harsh sound broke the quietness of all into a confusion of
+      noises. Dong! Dong!—it was the great alarm-bell from Melchior’s
+      Tower.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Baron started at the sound. He sat for a moment or two with his hand
+      clinched upon the arm of his seat as though about to rise, then he sunk
+      back into his chair again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All the others had risen tumultuously from the table, and now stood
+      looking at him, awaiting his orders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “For my sake, Conrad,” said the Baroness again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dong! Dong! rang the alarm-bell. The Baron sat with his eyes bent upon the
+      floor, scowling blackly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Baroness took his hand in both of hers. “For my sake,” she pleaded,
+      and the tears filled her blue eyes as she looked up at him, “do not go
+      this time.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      From the courtyard without came the sound of horses’ hoofs clashing
+      against the stone pavement, and those in the hall stood watching and
+      wondering at this strange delay of the Lord Baron. Just then the door
+      opened and one came pushing past the rest; it was the one-eyed Hans. He
+      came straight to where the Baron sat, and, leaning over, whispered
+      something into his master’s ear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “For my sake,” implored the Baroness again; but the scale was turned. The
+      Baron pushed back his chair heavily and rose to his feet. “Forward!” he
+      roared, in a voice of thunder, and a great shout went up in answer as he
+      strode clanking down the hall and out of the open door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Baroness covered her face with her hands and wept.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Never mind, little bird,” said old Ursela, the nurse, soothingly; “he
+      will come back to thee again as he has come back to thee before.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the poor young Baroness continued weeping with her face buried in her
+      hands, because he had not done that thing she had asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A white young face framed in yellow hair looked out into the courtyard
+      from a window above; but if Baron Conrad of Drachenhausen saw it from
+      beneath the bars of his shining helmet, he made no sign.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Forward,” he cried again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Down thundered the drawbridge, and away they rode with clashing hoofs and
+      ringing armor through the gray shroud of drilling rain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The day had passed and the evening had come, and the Baroness and her
+      women sat beside a roaring fire. All were chattering and talking and
+      laughing but two—the fair young Baroness and old Ursela; the one sat
+      listening, listening, listening, the other sat with her chin resting in
+      the palm of her hand, silently watching her young mistress. The night was
+      falling gray and chill, when suddenly the clear notes of a bugle rang from
+      without the castle walls. The young Baroness started, and the rosy light
+      flashed up into her pale cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes, good,” said old Ursela; “the red fox has come back to his den again,
+      and I warrant he brings a fat town goose in his mouth; now we’ll have fine
+      clothes to wear, and thou another gold chain to hang about thy pretty
+      neck.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young Baroness laughed merrily at the old woman’s speech. “This time,”
+       said she, “I will choose a string of pearls like that one my aunt used to
+      wear, and which I had about my neck when Conrad first saw me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Minute after minute passed; the Baroness sat nervously playing with a
+      bracelet of golden beads about her wrist. “How long he stays,” said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes,” said Ursela; “but it is not cousin wish that holds him by the
+      coat.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As she spoke, a door banged in the passageway without, and the ring of
+      iron footsteps sounded upon the stone floor. Clank! Clank! Clank!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Baroness rose to her feet, her face all alight. The door opened; then
+      the flush of joy faded away and the face grew white, white, white. One
+      hand clutched the back of the bench whereon she had been sitting, the
+      other hand pressed tightly against her side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Hans the one-eyed who stood in the doorway, and black trouble sat
+      on his brow; all were looking at him waiting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Conrad,” whispered the Baroness, at last. “Where is Conrad? Where is your
+      master?” and even her lips were white as she spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The one-eyed Hans said nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just then came the noise of men s voices in the corridor and the shuffle
+      and scuffle of feet carrying a heavy load. Nearer and nearer they came,
+      and one-eyed Hans stood aside. Six men came struggling through the
+      doorway, carrying a litter, and on the litter lay the great Baron Conrad.
+      The flaming torch thrust into the iron bracket against the wall flashed up
+      with the draught of air from the open door, and the light fell upon the
+      white face and the closed eyes, and showed upon his body armor a great red
+      stain that was not the stain of rust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly Ursela cried out in a sharp, shrill voice, “Catch her, she
+      falls!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the Baroness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the old crone turned fiercely upon the one-eyed Hans. “Thou fool!”
+       she cried, “why didst thou bring him here? Thou hast killed thy lady!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I did not know,” said the one-eyed Hans, stupidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      III. How the Baron came Home Shorn.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      But Baron Conrad was not dead. For days he lay upon his hard bed, now
+      muttering incoherent words beneath his red beard, now raving fiercely with
+      the fever of his wound. But one day he woke again to the things about him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned his head first to the one side and then to the other; there sat
+      Schwartz Carl and the one-eyed Hans. Two or three other retainers stood by
+      a great window that looked out into the courtyard beneath, jesting and
+      laughing together in low tones, and one lay upon the heavy oaken bench
+      that stood along by the wall snoring in his sleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Where is your lady?” said the Baron, presently; “and why is she not with
+      me at this time?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man that lay upon the bench started up at the sound of his voice, and
+      those at the window came hurrying to his bedside. But Schwartz Carl and
+      the one-eyed Hans looked at one another, and neither of them spoke. The
+      Baron saw the look and in it read a certain meaning that brought him to
+      his elbow, though only to sink back upon his pillow again with a groan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Why do you not answer me?” said he at last, in a hollow voice; then to
+      the one-eyed Hans, “Hast no tongue, fool, that thou standest gaping there
+      like a fish? Answer me, where is thy mistress?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I—I do not know,” stammered poor Hans.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a while the Baron lay silently looking from one face to the other,
+      then he spoke again. “How long have I been lying here?” said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “A sennight, my lord,” said Master Rudolph, the steward, who had come into
+      the room and who now stood among the others at the bedside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “A sennight,” repeated the Baron, in a low voice, and then to Master
+      Rudolph, “And has the Baroness been often beside me in that time?” Master
+      Rudolph hesitated. “Answer me,” said the Baron, harshly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Not—not often,” said Master Rudolph, hesitatingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Baron lay silent for a long time. At last he passed his hands over his
+      face and held them there for a minute, then of a sudden, before anyone
+      knew what he was about to do, he rose upon his elbow and then sat upright
+      upon the bed. The green wound broke out afresh and a dark red spot grew
+      and spread upon the linen wrappings; his face was drawn and haggard with
+      the pain of his moving, and his eyes wild and bloodshot. Great drops of
+      sweat gathered and stood upon his forehead as he sat there swaying
+      slightly from side to side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “My shoes,” said he, hoarsely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Master Rudolph stepped forward. “But, my Lord Baron,” he began and then
+      stopped short, for the Baron shot him such a look that his tongue stood
+      still in his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hans saw that look out of his one eye. Down he dropped upon his knees and,
+      fumbling under the bed, brought forth a pair of soft leathern shoes, which
+      he slipped upon the Baron’s feet and then laced the thongs above the
+      instep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Your shoulder,” said the Baron. He rose slowly to his feet, gripping Hans
+      in the stress of his agony until the fellow winced again. For a moment he
+      stood as though gathering strength, then doggedly started forth upon that
+      quest which he had set upon himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the door he stopped for a moment as though overcome by his weakness,
+      and there Master Nicholas, his cousin, met him; for the steward had sent
+      one of the retainers to tell the old man what the Baron was about to do.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Thou must go back again, Conrad,” said Master Nicholas; “thou art not fit
+      to be abroad.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Baron answered him never a word, but he glared at him from out of his
+      bloodshot eyes and ground his teeth together. Then he started forth again
+      upon his way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Down the long hall he went, slowly and laboriously, the others following
+      silently behind him, then up the steep winding stairs, step by step, now
+      and then stopping to lean against the wall. So he reached a long and
+      gloomy passageway lit only by the light of a little window at the further
+      end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped at the door of one of the rooms that opened into this
+      passage-way, stood for a moment, then he pushed it open.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No one was within but old Ursela, who sat crooning over a fire with a
+      bundle upon her knees. She did not see the Baron or know that he was
+      there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Where is your lady?” said he, in a hollow voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the old nurse looked up with a start. “Jesu bless us,” cried she, and
+      crossed herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Where is your lady?” said the Baron again, in the same hoarse voice; and
+      then, not waiting for an answer, “Is she dead?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old woman looked at him for a minute blinking her watery eyes, and
+      then suddenly broke into a shrill, long-drawn wail. The Baron needed to
+      hear no more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As though in answer to the old woman’s cry, a thin piping complaint came
+      from the bundle in her lap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the sound the red blood flashed up into the Baron’s face. “What is that
+      you have there?” said he, pointing to the bundle upon the old woman’s
+      knees.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She drew back the coverings and there lay a poor, weak, little baby, that
+      once again raised its faint reedy pipe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “It is your son,” said Ursela, “that the dear Baroness left behind her
+      when the holy angels took her to Paradise. She blessed him and called him
+      Otto before she left us.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      IV. The White Cross on the Hill.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Here the glassy waters of the River Rhine, holding upon its bosom a mimic
+      picture of the blue sky and white clouds floating above, runs smoothly
+      around a jutting point of land, St. Michaelsburg, rising from the reedy
+      banks of the stream, sweeps up with a smooth swell until it cuts sharp and
+      clear against the sky. Stubby vineyards covered its earthy breast, and
+      field and garden and orchard crowned its brow, where lay the Monastery of
+      St. Michaelsburg—“The White Cross on the Hill.” There within the
+      white walls, where the warm yellow sunlight slept, all was peaceful
+      quietness, broken only now and then by the crowing of the cock or the
+      clamorous cackle of a hen, the lowing of kine or the bleating of goats, a
+      solitary voice in prayer, the faint accord of distant singing, or the
+      resonant toll of the monastery bell from the high-peaked belfry that
+      overlooked the hill and valley and the smooth, far-winding stream. No
+      other sounds broke the stillness, for in this peaceful haven was never
+      heard the clash of armor, the ring of iron-shod hoofs, or the hoarse call
+      to arms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All men were not wicked and cruel and fierce in that dark, far-away age;
+      all were not robbers and terror-spreading tyrants, even in that time when
+      men’s hands were against their neighbors, and war and rapine dwelt in
+      place of peace and justice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Abbot Otto, of St. Michaelsburg, was a gentle, patient, pale-faced old
+      man; his white hands were soft and smooth, and no one would have thought
+      that they could have known the harsh touch of sword-hilt and lance. And
+      yet, in the days of the Emperor Frederick—the grandson of the great
+      Red-beard—no one stood higher in the prowess of arms than he. But
+      all at once—for why, no man could tell—a change came over him,
+      and in the flower of his youth and fame and growing power he gave up
+      everything in life and entered the quiet sanctuary of that white monastery
+      on the hill-side, so far away from the tumult and the conflict of the
+      world in which he had lived.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Some said that it was because the lady he had loved had loved his brother,
+      and that when they were married Otto of Wolbergen had left the church with
+      a broken heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But such stories are old songs that have been sung before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Clatter! clatter! Jingle! jingle! It was a full-armed knight that came
+      riding up the steep hill road that wound from left to right and right to
+      left amid the vineyards on the slopes of St. Michaelsburg. Polished helm
+      and corselet blazed in the noon sunlight, for no knight in those days
+      dared to ride the roads except in full armor. In front of him the solitary
+      knight carried a bundle wrapped in the folds of his coarse gray cloak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a sorely sick man that rode up the heights of St. Michaelsburg. His
+      head hung upon his breast through the faintness of weariness and pain; for
+      it was the Baron Conrad.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had left his bed of sickness that morning, had saddled his horse in the
+      gray dawn with his own hands, and had ridden away into the misty twilight
+      of the forest without the knowledge of anyone excepting the porter, who,
+      winking and blinking in the bewilderment of his broken slumber, had opened
+      the gates to the sick man, hardly knowing what he was doing, until he
+      beheld his master far away, clattering down the steep bridle-path.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Eight leagues had he ridden that day with neither a stop nor a stay; but
+      now at last the end of his journey had come, and he drew rein under the
+      shade of the great wooden gateway of St. Michaelsburg.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He reached up to the knotted rope and gave it a pull, and from within
+      sounded the answering ring of the porter’s bell. By and by a little wicket
+      opened in the great wooden portals, and the gentle, wrinkled face of old
+      Brother Benedict, the porter, peeped out at the strange iron-clad visitor
+      and the great black war-horse, streaked and wet with the sweat of the
+      journey, flecked and dappled with flakes of foam. A few words passed
+      between them, and then the little window was closed again; and within, the
+      shuffling pat of the sandalled feet sounded fainter and fainter, as
+      Brother Benedict bore the message from Baron Conrad to Abbot Otto, and the
+      mail-clad figure was left alone, sitting there as silent as a statue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By and by the footsteps sounded again; there came a noise of clattering
+      chains and the rattle of the key in the lock, and the rasping of the bolts
+      dragged back. Then the gate swung slowly open, and Baron Conrad rode into
+      the shelter of the White Cross, and as the hoofs of his war-horse clashed
+      upon the stones of the courtyard within, the wooden gate swung slowly to
+      behind him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Abbot Otto stood by the table when Baron Conrad entered the high-vaulted
+      room from the farther end. The light from the oriel window behind the old
+      man shed broken rays of light upon him, and seemed to frame his thin gray
+      hairs with a golden glory. His white, delicate hand rested upon the table
+      beside him, and upon some sheets of parchment covered with rows of ancient
+      Greek writing which he had been engaged in deciphering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Clank! clank! clank! Baron Conrad strode across the stone floor, and then
+      stopped short in front of the good old man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What dost thou seek here, my son?” said the Abbot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I seek sanctuary for my son and thy brother’s grandson,” said the Baron
+      Conrad, and he flung back the folds of his cloak and showed the face of
+      the sleeping babe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a while the Abbot said nothing, but stood gazing dreamily at the baby.
+      After a while he looked up. “And the child’s mother,” said he—“what
+      hath she to say at this?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “She hath naught to say,” said Baron Conrad, hoarsely, and then stopped
+      short in his speech. “She is dead,” said he, at last, in a husky voice,
+      “and is with God’s angels in paradise.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Abbot looked intently in the Baron’s face. “So!” said he, under his
+      breath, and then for the first time noticed how white and drawn was the
+      Baron’s face. “Art sick thyself?” he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Ay,” said the Baron, “I have come from death’s door. But that is no
+      matter. Wilt thou take this little babe into sanctuary? My house is a
+      vile, rough place, and not fit for such as he, and his mother with the
+      blessed saints in heaven.” And once more Conrad of Drachenhausen’s face
+      began twitching with the pain of his thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes,” said the old man, gently, “he shall live here,” and he stretched
+      out his hands and took the babe. “Would,” said he, “that all the little
+      children in these dark times might be thus brought to the house of God,
+      and there learn mercy and peace, instead of rapine and war.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For a while he stood looking down in silence at the baby in his arms, but
+      with his mind far away upon other things. At last he roused himself with a
+      start. “And thou,” said he to the Baron Conrad—“hath not thy heart
+      been chastened and softened by this? Surely thou wilt not go back to thy
+      old life of rapine and extortion?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nay,” said Baron Conrad, gruffly, “I will rob the city swine no longer,
+      for that was the last thing that my dear one asked of me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old Abbot’s face lit up with a smile. “I am right glad that thy heart
+      was softened, and that thou art willing at last to cease from war and
+      violence.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nay,” cried the Baron, roughly, “I said nothing of ceasing from war. By
+      heaven, no! I will have revenge!” And he clashed his iron foot upon the
+      floor and clinched his fists and ground his teeth together. “Listen,” said
+      he, “and I will tell thee how my troubles happened. A fortnight ago I rode
+      out upon an expedition against a caravan of fat burghers in the valley of
+      Gruenhoffen. They outnumbered us many to one, but city swine such as they
+      are not of the stuff to stand against our kind for a long time.
+      Nevertheless, while the men-at-arms who guarded the caravan were staying
+      us with pike and cross-bow from behind a tree which they had felled in
+      front of a high bridge the others had driven the pack-horses off, so that
+      by the time we had forced the bridge they were a league or more away. We
+      pushed after them as hard as we were able, but when we came up with them
+      we found that they had been joined by Baron Frederick of Trutz-Drachen, to
+      whom for three years and more the burghers of Gruenstadt have been paying
+      a tribute for his protection against others. Then again they made a stand,
+      and this time the Baron Frederick himself was with them. But though the
+      dogs fought well, we were forcing them back, and might have got the better
+      of them, had not my horse stumbled upon a sloping stone, and so fell and
+      rolled over upon me. While I lay there with my horse upon me, Baron
+      Frederick ran me down with his lance, and gave me that foul wound that
+      came so near to slaying me—and did slay my dear wife. Nevertheless,
+      my men were able to bring me out from that press and away, and we had
+      bitten the Trutz-Drachen dogs so deep that they were too sore to follow
+      us, and so let us go our way in peace. But when those fools of mine
+      brought me to my castle they bore me lying upon a litter to my wife’s
+      chamber. There she beheld me, and, thinking me dead, swooned a
+      death-swoon, so that she only lived long enough to bless her new-born babe
+      and name it Otto, for you, her father’s brother. But, by heavens! I will
+      have revenge, root and branch, upon that vile tribe, the Roderburgs of
+      Trutz-Drachen. Their great-grandsire built that castle in scorn of Baron
+      Casper in the old days; their grandsire slew my father’s grandsire; Baron
+      Nicholas slew two of our kindred; and now this Baron Frederick gives me
+      that foul wound and kills my dear wife through my body.” Here the Baron
+      stopped short; then of a sudden, shaking his fist above his head, he cried
+      out in his hoarse voice: “I swear by all the saints in heaven, either the
+      red cock shall crow over the roof of Trutz-Drachen or else it shall crow
+      over my house! The black dog shall sit on Baron Frederick’s shoulders or
+      else he shall sit on mine!” Again he stopped, and fixing his blazing eyes
+      upon the old man, “Hearest thou that, priest?” said he, and broke into a
+      great boisterous laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Abbot Otto sighed heavily, but he tried no further to persuade the other
+      into different thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Thou art wounded,” said he, at last, in a gentle voice; “at least stay
+      here with us until thou art healed.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nay,” said the Baron, roughly, “I will tarry no longer than to hear thee
+      promise to care for my child.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I promise,” said the Abbot; “but lay aside thy armor, and rest.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nay,” said the Baron, “I go back again to-day.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this the Abbot cried out in amazement: “Sure thou, wounded man, would
+      not take that long journey without a due stay for resting! Think! Night
+      will be upon thee before thou canst reach home again, and the forests are
+      beset with wolves.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Baron laughed. “Those are not the wolves I fear,” said he. “Urge me no
+      further, I must return to-night; yet if thou hast a mind to do me a
+      kindness thou canst give me some food to eat and a flask of your golden
+      Michaelsburg; beyond these, I ask no further favor of any man, be he
+      priest or layman.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “What comfort I can give thee thou shalt have,” said the Abbot, in his
+      patient voice, and so left the room to give the needful orders, bearing
+      the babe with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      V. How Otto Dwelt at St. Michaelsburg.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      So the poor, little, motherless waif lived among the old monks at the
+      White Cross on the hill, thriving and growing apace until he had reached
+      eleven or twelve years of age; a slender, fair-haired little fellow, with
+      a strange, quiet serious manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Poor little child!” Old Brother Benedict would sometimes say to the
+      others, “poor little child! The troubles in which he was born must have
+      broken his wits like a glass cup. What think ye he said to me to-day?
+      ‘Dear Brother Benedict,’ said he, ‘dost thou shave the hair off of the top
+      of thy head so that the dear God may see thy thoughts the better?’ Think
+      of that now!” and the good old man shook with silent laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When such talk came to the good Father Abbot’s ears, he smiled quietly to
+      himself. “It may be,” said he, “that the wisdom of little children flies
+      higher than our heavy wits can follow.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At least Otto was not slow with his studies, and Brother Emmanuel, who
+      taught him his lessons, said more than once that, if his wits were cracked
+      in other ways, they were sound enough in Latin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Otto, in a quaint, simple way which belonged to him, was gentle and
+      obedient to all. But there was one among the Brethren of St. Michaelsburg
+      whom he loved far above all the rest—Brother John, a poor
+      half-witted fellow, of some twenty-five or thirty years of age. When a
+      very little child, he had fallen from his nurse’s arms and hurt his head,
+      and as he grew up into boyhood, and showed that his wits had been addled
+      by his fall, his family knew not what else to do with him, and so sent him
+      off to the Monastery of St. Michaelsburg, where he lived his simple,
+      witless life upon a sort of sufferance, as though he were a tame, harmless
+      animal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While Otto was still a little baby, he had been given into Brother John’s
+      care. Thereafter, and until Otto had grown old enough to care for himself,
+      poor Brother John never left his little charge, night or day. Oftentimes
+      the good Father Abbot, coming into the garden, where he loved to walk
+      alone in his meditations, would find the poor, simple Brother sitting
+      under the shade of the pear-tree, close to the bee-hives, rocking the
+      little baby in his arms, singing strange, crazy songs to it, and gazing
+      far away into the blue, empty sky with his curious, pale eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Although, as Otto grew up into boyhood, his lessons and his tasks
+      separated him from Brother John, the bond between them seemed to grow
+      stronger rather than weaker. During the hours that Otto had for his own
+      they were scarcely ever apart. Down in the vineyard, where the monks were
+      gathering the grapes for the vintage, in the garden, or in the fields, the
+      two were always seen together, either wandering hand in hand, or seated in
+      some shady nook or corner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But most of all they loved to lie up in the airy wooden belfry; the great
+      gaping bell hanging darkly above them, the mouldering cross-beams
+      glimmering far up under the dim shadows of the roof, where dwelt a great
+      brown owl that, unfrightened at their familiar presence, stared down at
+      them with his round, solemn eyes. Below them stretched the white walls of
+      the garden, beyond them the vineyard, and beyond that again the far
+      shining river, that seemed to Otto’s mind to lead into wonder-land. There
+      the two would lie upon the belfry floor by the hour, talking together of
+      the strangest things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I saw the dear Angel Gabriel again yester morn,” said Brother John.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “So!” says Otto, seriously; “and where was that?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “It was out in the garden, in the old apple-tree,” said Brother John. “I
+      was walking there, and my wits were running around in the grass like a
+      mouse. What heard I but a wonderful sound of singing, and it was like the
+      hum of a great bee, only sweeter than honey. So I looked up into the tree,
+      and there I saw two sparks. I thought at first that they were two stars
+      that had fallen out of heaven; but what think you they were, little
+      child?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I do not know,” said Otto, breathlessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “They were angel’s eyes,” said Brother John; and he smiled in the
+      strangest way, as he gazed up into the blue sky. “So I looked at the two
+      sparks and felt happy, as one does in spring time when the cold weather is
+      gone, and the warm sun shines, and the cuckoo sings again. Then,
+      by-and-by, I saw the face to which the eyes belonged. First, it shone
+      white and thin like the moon in the daylight; but it grew brighter and
+      brighter, until it hurt one’s eyes to look at it, as though it had been
+      the blessed sun itself. Angel Gabriel’s hand was as white as silver, and
+      in it he held a green bough with blossoms, like those that grow on the
+      thorn bush. As for his robe, it was all of one piece, and finer than the
+      Father Abbot’s linen, and shone beside like the sunlight on pure snow. So
+      I knew from all these things that it was the blessed Angel Gabriel.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘What do they say about this tree, Brother John?’ said he to me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘They say it is dying, my Lord Angel,’ said I, ‘and that the gardener will
+      bring a sharp axe and cut it down.’
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘And what dost thou say about it, Brother John?’ said he.
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘I also say yes, and that it is dying,’ said I.
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “At that he smiled until his face shone so bright that I had to shut my
+      eyes.
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘Now I begin to believe, Brother John, that thou art as foolish as men
+      say,’ said he. ‘Look, till I show thee.’ And thereat I opened mine eyes
+      again.
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Then Angel Gabriel touched the dead branches with the flowery twig that
+      he held in his hand, and there was the dead wood all covered with green
+      leaves, and fair blossoms and beautiful apples as yellow as gold. Each
+      smelling more sweetly than a garden of flowers, and better to the taste
+      than white bread and honey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘They are souls of the apples,’ said the good Angel, ‘and they can never
+      wither and die.’ 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘Then I’ll tell the gardener that he shall not cut the tree down,’ said
+      I.
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘No, no,’ said the dear Gabriel, ‘that will never do, for if the tree is
+      not cut down here on the earth, it can never be planted in paradise.’”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here Brother John stopped short in his story, and began singing one of his
+      crazy songs, as he gazed with his pale eyes far away into nothing at all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “But tell me, Brother John,” said little Otto, in a hushed voice, “what
+      else did the good Angel say to thee?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Brother John stopped short in his song and began looking from right to
+      left, and up and down, as though to gather his wits.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “So!” said he, “there was something else that he told me. Tschk! If I
+      could but think now. Yes, good! This is it—‘Nothing that has lived,’ 
+      said he, ‘shall ever die, and nothing that has died shall ever live.’”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Otto drew a deep breath. “I would that I might see the beautiful Angel
+      Gabriel sometime,” said he; but Brother John was singing again and did not
+      seem to hear what he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next to Brother John, the nearest one to the little child was the good
+      Abbot Otto, for though he had never seen wonderful things with the eyes of
+      his soul, such as Brother John’s had beheld, and so could not tell of
+      them, he was yet able to give little Otto another pleasure that no one
+      else could give.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was a great lover of books, the old Abbot, and had under lock and key
+      wonderful and beautiful volumes, bound in hog-skin and metal, and with
+      covers inlaid with carved ivory, or studded with precious stones. But
+      within these covers, beautiful as they were, lay the real wonder of the
+      books, like the soul in the body; for there, beside the black letters and
+      initials, gay with red and blue and gold, were beautiful pictures painted
+      upon the creamy parchment. Saints and Angels, the Blessed Virgin with the
+      golden oriole about her head, good St. Joseph, the three Kings; the simple
+      Shepherds kneeling in the fields, while Angels with glories about their
+      brow called to the poor Peasants from the blue sky above. But, most
+      beautiful of all was the picture of the Christ Child lying in the manger,
+      with the mild-eyed Kine gazing at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sometimes the old Abbot would unlock the iron-bound chest where these
+      treasures lay hidden, and carefully and lovingly brushing the few grains
+      of dust from them, would lay them upon the table beside the oriel window
+      in front of his little namesake, allowing the little boy freedom to turn
+      the leaves as he chose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Always it was one picture that little Otto sought; the Christ Child in the
+      manger, with the Virgin, St. Joseph, the Shepherds, and the Kine. And as
+      he would hang breathlessly gazing and gazing upon it, the old Abbot would
+      sit watching him with a faint, half-sad smile flickering around his thin
+      lips and his pale, narrow face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a pleasant, peaceful life, but by-and-by the end came. Otto was now
+      nearly twelve years old.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One bright, clear day, near the hour of noon, little Otto heard the
+      porter’s bell sounding below in the court-yard—dong! dong! Brother
+      Emmanuel had been appointed as the boy’s instructor, and just then Otto
+      was conning his lessons in the good monk’s cell. Nevertheless, at the
+      sound of the bell he pricked up his ears and listened, for a visitor was a
+      strange matter in that out-of-the-way place, and he wondered who it could
+      be. So, while his wits wandered his lessons lagged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Postera Phoeba lustrabat lampade terras,” continued Brother Emmanuel,
+      inexorably running his horny finger-nail beneath the line, “humentemque
+      Aurora polo dimoverat umbram—” the lesson dragged along.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just then a sandaled footstep sounded without, in the stone corridor, and
+      a light tap fell upon Brother Emmanuel’s door. It was Brother Ignatius,
+      and the Abbot wished little Otto to come to the refectory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As they crossed the court-yard Otto stared to see a group of mail-clad
+      men-at-arms, some sitting upon their horses, some standing by the
+      saddle-bow. “Yonder is the young baron,” he heard one of them say in a
+      gruff voice, and thereupon all turned and stared at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A stranger was in the refectory, standing beside the good old Abbot, while
+      food and wine were being brought and set upon the table for his
+      refreshment; a great, tall, broad-shouldered man, beside whom the Abbot
+      looked thinner and slighter than ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger was clad all in polished and gleaming armor, of plate and
+      chain, over which was drawn a loose robe of gray woollen stuff, reaching
+      to the knees and bound about the waist by a broad leathern sword-belt.
+      Upon his arm he carried a great helmet which he had just removed from his
+      head. His face was weather-beaten and rugged, and on lip and chin was a
+      wiry, bristling beard; once red, now frosted with white.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Brother Ignatius had bidden Otto to enter, and had then closed the door
+      behind him; and now, as the lad walked slowly up the long room, he gazed
+      with round, wondering blue eyes at the stranger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Dost know who I am, Otto? said the mail-clad knight, in a deep, growling
+      voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Methinks you are my father, sir,” said Otto.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Aye, thou art right,” said Baron Conrad, “and I am glad to see that these
+      milk-churning monks have not allowed thee to forget me, and who thou art
+      thyself.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “An’ it please you,” said Otto, “no one churneth milk here but Brother
+      Fritz; we be makers of wine and not makers of butter, at St.
+      Michaelsburg.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Baron Conrad broke into a great, loud laugh, but Abbot Otto’s sad and
+      thoughtful face lit up with no shadow of an answering smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Conrad,” said he, turning to the other, “again let me urge thee; do not
+      take the child hence, his life can never be your life, for he is not
+      fitted for it. I had thought,” said he, after a moment’s pause, “I had
+      thought that thou hadst meant to consecrate him—this motherless one—to
+      the care of the Universal Mother Church.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “So!” said the Baron, “thou hadst thought that, hadst thou? Thou hadst
+      thought that I had intended to deliver over this boy, the last of the
+      Vuelphs, to the arms of the Church? What then was to become of our name
+      and the glory of our race if it was to end with him in a monastery? No,
+      Drachenhausen is the home of the Vuelphs, and there the last of the race
+      shall live as his sires have lived before him, holding to his rights by
+      the power and the might of his right hand.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Abbot turned and looked at the boy, who was gaping in simple wide-eyed
+      wonderment from one to the other as they spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “And dost thou think, Conrad,” said the old man, in his gentle, patient
+      voice, “that that poor child can maintain his rights by the strength of
+      his right hand?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Baron’s look followed the Abbot’s, and he said nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the few seconds of silence that followed, little Otto, in his simple
+      mind, was wondering what all this talk portended. Why had his father come
+      hither to St. Michaelsburg, lighting up the dim silence of the monastery
+      with the flash and ring of his polished armor? Why had he talked about
+      churning butter but now, when all the world knew that the monks of St.
+      Michaelsburg made wine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Baron Conrad’s deep voice that broke the little pause of silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “If you have made a milkmaid of the boy,” he burst out at last, “I thank
+      the dear heaven that there is yet time to undo your work and to make a man
+      of him.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Abbot sighed. “The child is yours, Conrad,” said he, “the will of the
+      blessed saints be done. Mayhap if he goes to dwell at Drachenhausen he may
+      make you the better instead of you making him the worse.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then light came to the darkness of little Otto’s wonderment; he saw what
+      all this talk meant and why his father had come hither. He was to leave
+      the happy, sunny silence of the dear White Cross, and to go out into that
+      great world that he had so often looked down upon from the high windy
+      belfry on the steep hillside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      VI. How Otto Lived in the Dragon’s House.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The gates of the Monastery stood wide open, the world lay beyond, and all
+      was ready for departure. Baron Conrad and his men-at-arms sat foot in
+      stirrup, the milk-white horse that had been brought for Otto stood waiting
+      for him beside his father’s great charger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Farewell, Otto,” said the good old Abbot, as he stooped and kissed the
+      boy’s cheek.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Farewell,” answered Otto, in his simple, quiet way, and it brought a pang
+      to the old man’s heart that the child should seem to grieve so little at
+      the leave-taking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Farewell, Otto,” said the brethren that stood about, “farewell,
+      farewell.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then poor brother John came forward and took the boy’s hand, and looked up
+      into his face as he sat upon his horse. “We will meet again,” said he,
+      with his strange, vacant smile, “but maybe it will be in Paradise, and
+      there perhaps they will let us lie in the father’s belfry, and look down
+      upon the angels in the court-yard below.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Aye,” answered Otto, with an answering smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Forward,” cried the Baron, in a deep voice, and with a clash of hoofs and
+      jingle of armor they were gone, and the great wooden gates were shut to
+      behind them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Down the steep winding pathway they rode, and out into the great wide
+      world beyond, upon which Otto and brother John had gazed so often from the
+      wooden belfry of the White Cross on the hill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Hast been taught to ride a horse by the priests up yonder on
+      Michaelsburg?” asked the Baron, when they had reached the level road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nay,” said Otto; “we had no horse to ride, but only to bring in the
+      harvest or the grapes from the further vineyards to the vintage.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Prut,” said the Baron, “methought the abbot would have had enough of the
+      blood of old days in his veins to have taught thee what is fitting for a
+      knight to know; art not afeared?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nay,” said Otto, with a smile, “I am not afeared.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “There at least thou showest thyself a Vuelph,” said the grim Baron. But
+      perhaps Otto’s thought of fear and Baron Conrad’s thought of fear were two
+      very different matters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The afternoon had passed by the time they had reached the end of their
+      journey. Up the steep, stony path they rode to the drawbridge and the
+      great gaping gateway of Drachenhausen, where wall and tower and battlement
+      looked darker and more forbidding than ever in the gray twilight of the
+      coming night. Little Otto looked up with great, wondering, awe-struck eyes
+      at this grim new home of his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next moment they clattered over the drawbridge that spanned the narrow
+      black gulph between the roadway and the wall, and the next were past the
+      echoing arch of the great gateway and in the gray gloaming of the paved
+      court-yard within.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Otto looked around upon the many faces gathered there to catch the first
+      sight of the little baron; hard, rugged faces, seamed and weather-beaten;
+      very different from those of the gentle brethren among whom he had lived,
+      and it seemed strange to him that there was none there whom he should
+      know.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he climbed the steep, stony steps to the door of the Baron’s house, old
+      Ursela came running down to meet him. She flung her withered arms around
+      him and hugged him close to her. “My little child,” she cried, and then
+      fell to sobbing as though her heart would break.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Here is someone knoweth me,” thought the little boy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His new home was all very strange and wonderful to Otto; the armors, the
+      trophies, the flags, the long galleries with their ranges of rooms, the
+      great hall below with its vaulted roof and its great fireplace of
+      grotesquely carved stone, and all the strange people with their lives and
+      thoughts so different from what he had been used to know.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And it was a wonderful thing to explore all the strange places in the dark
+      old castle; places where it seemed to Otto no one could have ever been
+      before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Once he wandered down a long, dark passageway below the hall, pushed open
+      a narrow, iron-bound oaken door, and found himself all at once in a
+      strange new land; the gray light, coming in through a range of tall,
+      narrow windows, fell upon a row of silent, motionless figures carven in
+      stone, knights and ladies in strange armor and dress; each lying upon his
+      or her stony couch with clasped hands, and gazing with fixed, motionless,
+      stony eyeballs up into the gloomy, vaulted arch above them. There lay, in
+      a cold, silent row, all of the Vuelphs who had died since the ancient
+      castle had been built.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the chapel into which Otto had made his way, now long since fallen
+      out of use excepting as a burial place of the race.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At another time he clambered up into the loft under the high peaked roof,
+      where lay numberless forgotten things covered with the dim dust of years.
+      There a flock of pigeons had made their roost, and flapped noisily out
+      into the sunlight when he pushed open the door from below. Here he hunted
+      among the mouldering things of the past until, oh, joy of joys! in an
+      ancient oaken chest he found a great lot of worm-eaten books, that had
+      belonged to some old chaplain of the castle in days gone by. They were not
+      precious and beautiful volumes, such as the Father Abbot had showed him,
+      but all the same they had their quaint painted pictures of the blessed
+      saints and angels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again, at another time, going into the court-yard, Otto had found the door
+      of Melchior’s tower standing invitingly open, for old Hilda, Schwartz
+      Carl’s wife, had come down below upon some business or other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then upon the shaky wooden steps Otto ran without waiting for a second
+      thought, for he had often gazed at those curious buildings hanging so far
+      up in the air, and had wondered what they were like. Round and round and
+      up and up Otto climbed, until his head spun. At last he reached a
+      landing-stage, and gazing over the edge and down, beheld the stone
+      pavement far, far below, lit by a faint glimmer of light that entered
+      through the arched doorway. Otto clutched tight hold of the wooden rail,
+      he had no thought that he had climbed so far.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon the other side of the landing was a window that pierced the thick
+      stone walls of the tower; out of the window he looked, and then drew
+      suddenly back again with a gasp, for it was through the outer wall he
+      peered, and down, down below in the dizzy depths he saw the hard gray
+      rocks, where the black swine, looking no larger than ants in the distance,
+      fed upon the refuse thrown out over the walls of the castle. There lay the
+      moving tree-tops like a billowy green sea, and the coarse thatched roofs
+      of the peasant cottages, round which crawled the little children like tiny
+      human specks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Otto turned and crept down the stairs, frightened at the height to
+      which he had climbed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the doorway he met Mother Hilda. “Bless us,” she cried, starting back
+      and crossing herself, and then, seeing who it was, ducked him a courtesy
+      with as pleasant a smile as her forbidding face, with its little deep-set
+      eyes, was able to put upon itself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Old Ursela seemed nearer to the boy than anyone else about the castle,
+      excepting it was his father, and it was a newfound delight to Otto to sit
+      beside her and listen to her quaint stories, so different from the monkish
+      tales that he had heard and read at the monastery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But one day it was a tale of a different sort that she told him, and one
+      that opened his eyes to what he had never dreamed of before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The mellow sunlight fell through the window upon old Ursela, as she sat in
+      the warmth with her distaff in her hands while Otto lay close to her feet
+      upon a bear skin, silently thinking over the strange story of a brave
+      knight and a fiery dragon that she had just told him. Suddenly Ursela
+      broke the silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Little one,” said she, “thou art wondrously like thy own dear mother;
+      didst ever hear how she died?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nay,” said Otto, “but tell me, Ursela, how it was.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Tis strange,” said the old woman, “that no one should have told thee in
+      all this time.” And then, in her own fashion she related to him the story
+      of how his father had set forth upon that expedition in spite of all that
+      Otto’s mother had said, beseeching him to abide at home; how he had been
+      foully wounded, and how the poor lady had died from her fright and grief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Otto listened with eyes that grew wider and wider, though not all with
+      wonder; he no longer lay upon the bear skin, but sat up with his hands
+      clasped. For a moment or two after the old woman had ended her story, he
+      sat staring silently at her. Then he cried out, in a sharp voice, “And is
+      this truth that you tell me, Ursela? and did my father seek to rob the
+      towns people of their goods?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Old Ursela laughed. “Aye,” said she, “that he did and many times. Ah! me,
+      those days are all gone now.” And she fetched a deep sigh. “Then we lived
+      in plenty and had both silks and linens and velvets besides in the store
+      closets and were able to buy good wines and live in plenty upon the best.
+      Now we dress in frieze and live upon what we can get, and sometimes that is
+      little enough, with nothing better than sour beer to drink. But there is
+      one comfort in it all, and that is that our good Baron paid back the score
+      he owed the Trutz-Drachen people not only for that, but for all that they
+      had done from the very first.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon she went on to tell Otto how Baron Conrad had fulfilled the
+      pledge of revenge that he had made Abbot Otto, how he had watched day
+      after day until one time he had caught the Trutz-Drachen folk, with Baron
+      Frederick at their head, in a narrow defile back of the Kaiserburg; of the
+      fierce fight that was there fought; of how the Roderburgs at last fled,
+      leaving Baron Frederick behind them wounded; of how he had kneeled before
+      the Baron Conrad, asking for mercy, and of how Baron Conrad had answered,
+      “Aye, thou shalt have such mercy as thou deservest,” and had therewith
+      raised his great two-handed sword and laid his kneeling enemy dead at one
+      blow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor little Otto had never dreamed that such cruelty and wickedness could
+      be. He listened to the old woman’s story with gaping horror, and when the
+      last came and she told him, with a smack of her lips, how his father had
+      killed his enemy with his own hand, he gave a gasping cry and sprang to
+      his feet. Just then the door at the other end of the chamber was noisily
+      opened, and Baron Conrad himself strode into the room. Otto turned his
+      head, and seeing who it was, gave another cry, loud and quavering, and ran
+      to his father and caught him by the hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, father!” he cried, “oh, father! Is it true that thou hast killed a
+      man with thy own hand?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Aye,” said the Baron, grimly, “it is true enough, and I think me I have
+      killed many more than one. But what of that, Otto? Thou must get out of
+      those foolish notions that the old monks have taught thee. Here in the
+      world it is different from what it is at St. Michaelsburg; here a man must
+      either slay or be slain.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But poor little Otto, with his face hidden in his father’s robe, cried as
+      though his heart would break. “Oh, father!” he said, again and again, “it
+      cannot be—it cannot be that thou who art so kind to me should have
+      killed a man with thine own hands.” Then: “I wish that I were back in the
+      monastery again; I am afraid out here in the great wide world; perhaps
+      somebody may kill me, for I am only a weak little boy and could not save
+      my own life if they chose to take it from me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Baron Conrad looked down upon Otto all this while, drawing his bushy
+      eyebrows together. Once he reached out his hand as though to stroke the
+      boy’s hair, but drew it back again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Turning angrily upon the old woman, “Ursela,” said he, “thou must tell the
+      child no more such stories as these; he knowest not at all of such things
+      as yet. Keep thy tongue busy with the old woman’s tales that he loves to
+      hear thee tell, and leave it with me to teach him what becometh a true
+      knight and a Vuelph.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That night the father and son sat together beside the roaring fire in the
+      great ball. “Tell me, Otto,” said the Baron, “dost thou hate me for having
+      done what Ursela told thee today that I did?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Otto looked for a while into his father’s face. “I know not,” said he at
+      last, in his quaint, quiet voice, “but methinks that I do not hate thee
+      for it.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Baron drew his bushy brows together until his eyes twinkled out of the
+      depths beneath them, then of a sudden he broke into a great loud laugh,
+      smiting his horny palm with a smack upon his thigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      VII. The Red Cock Crows on Drachenhausen.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      There was a new emperor in Germany who had come from a far away Swiss
+      castle; Count Rudolph of Hapsburg, a good, honest man with a good, honest,
+      homely face, but bringing with him a stern sense of justice and of right,
+      and a determination to put down the lawlessness of the savage German
+      barons among whom he had come as Emperor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day two strangers came galloping up the winding path to the gates of
+      the Dragon’s house. A horn sounded thin and clear, a parley was held
+      across the chasm in the road between the two strangers and the porter who
+      appeared at the little wicket. Then a messenger was sent running to the
+      Baron, who presently came striding across the open court-yard to the
+      gateway to parley with the strangers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two bore with them a folded parchment with a great red seal hanging
+      from it like a clot of blood; it was a message from the Emperor demanding
+      that the Baron should come to the Imperial Court to answer certain charges
+      that had been brought against him, and to give his bond to maintain the
+      peace of the empire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One by one those barons who had been carrying on their private wars, or
+      had been despoiling the burgher folk in their traffic from town to town,
+      and against whom complaint had been lodged, were summoned to the Imperial
+      Court, where they were compelled to promise peace and to swear allegiance
+      to the new order of things. All those who came willingly were allowed to
+      return home again after giving security for maintaining the peace; all
+      those who came not willingly were either brought in chains or rooted out
+      of their strongholds with fire and sword, and their roofs burned over
+      their heads.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now it was Baron Conrad’s turn to be summoned to the Imperial Court, for
+      complaint had been lodged against him by his old enemy of Trutz-Drachen—Baron
+      Henry—the nephew of the old Baron Frederick who had been slain while
+      kneeling in the dust of the road back of the Kaiserburg.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No one at Drachenhausen could read but Master Rudolph, the steward, who
+      was sand blind, and little Otto. So the boy read the summons to his
+      father, while the grim Baron sat silent with his chin resting upon his
+      clenched fist and his eyebrows drawn together into a thoughtful frown as
+      he gazed into the pale face of his son, who sat by the rude oaken table
+      with the great parchment spread out before him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Should he answer the summons, or scorn it as he would have done under the
+      old emperors? Baron Conrad knew not which to do; pride said one thing and
+      policy another. The Emperor was a man with an iron hand, and Baron Conrad
+      knew what had happened to those who had refused to obey the imperial
+      commands. So at last he decided that he would go to the court, taking with
+      him a suitable escort to support his dignity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was with nearly a hundred armed men clattering behind him that Baron
+      Conrad rode away to court to answer the imperial summons. The castle was
+      stripped of its fighting men, and only eight remained behind to guard the
+      great stone fortress and the little simple-witted boy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a sad mistake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Three days had passed since the Baron had left the castle, and now the
+      third night had come. The moon was hanging midway in the sky, white and
+      full, for it was barely past midnight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The high precipitous banks of the rocky road threw a dense black shadow
+      into the gully below, and in that crooked inky line that scarred the white
+      face of the moonlit rocks a band of some thirty men were creeping slowly
+      and stealthily nearer and nearer to Castle Drachenhausen. At the head of
+      them was a tall, slender knight clad in light chain armor, his head
+      covered only by a steel cap or bascinet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Along the shadow they crept, with only now and then a faint clink or
+      jingle of armor to break the stillness, for most of those who followed the
+      armed knight were clad in leathern jerkins; only one or two wearing even
+      so much as a steel breast-plate by way of armor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So at last they reached the chasm that yawned beneath the roadway, and
+      there they stopped, for they had reached the spot toward which they had
+      been journeying. It was Baron Henry of Trutz-Drachen who had thus come in
+      the silence of the night time to the Dragon’s house, and his visit boded
+      no good to those within.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Baron and two or three of his men talked together in low tones, now
+      and then looking up at the sheer wall that towered above them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yonder is the place, Lord Baron,” said one of those who stood with him.
+      “I have scanned every foot of the wall at night for a week past. An we get
+      not in by that way, we get not in at all. A keen eye, a true aim, and a
+      bold man are all that we need, and the business is done.” Here again all
+      looked upward at the gray wall above them, rising up in the silent night
+      air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      High aloft hung the wooden bartizan or watch-tower, clinging to the face
+      of the outer wall and looming black against the pale sky above. Three
+      great beams pierced the wall, and upon them the wooden tower rested. The
+      middle beam jutted out beyond the rest to the distance of five or six
+      feet, and the end of it was carved into the rude semblance of a dragon’s
+      head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “So, good,” said the Baron at last; “then let us see if thy plan holds,
+      and if Hans Schmidt’s aim is true enough to earn the three marks that I
+      have promised him. Where is the bag?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      One of those who stood near handed the Baron a leathern pouch, the Baron
+      opened it and drew out a ball of fine thread, another of twine, a coil of
+      stout rope, and a great bundle that looked, until it was unrolled, like a
+      coarse fish-net. It was a rope ladder. While these were being made ready,
+      Hans Schmidt, a thick-set, low-browed, broad-shouldered archer, strung his
+      stout bow, and carefully choosing three arrows from those in his quiver,
+      he stuck them point downward in the earth. Unwinding the ball of thread,
+      he laid it loosely in large loops upon the ground so that it might run
+      easily without hitching, then he tied the end of the thread tightly around
+      one of his arrows. He fitted the arrow to the bow and drew the feather to
+      his ear. Twang! rang the bowstring, and the feathered messenger flew
+      whistling upon its errand to the watch-tower. The very first shaft did the
+      work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Good,” said Hans Schmidt, the archer, in his heavy voice, “the three
+      marks are mine, Lord Baron.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The arrow had fallen over and across the jutting beam between the carved
+      dragon’s head and the bartizan, carrying with it the thread, which now
+      hung from above, glimmering white in the moonlight like a cobweb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The rest was an easy task enough. First the twine was drawn up to and over
+      the beam by the thread, then the rope was drawn up by the twine, and last
+      of all the rope ladder by the rope. There it hung like a thin, slender
+      black line against the silent gray walls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “And now,” said the Baron, “who will go first and win fifty marks for his
+      own, and climb the rope ladder to the tower yonder?” Those around
+      hesitated. “Is there none brave enough to venture?” said the Baron, after
+      a pause of silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A stout, young fellow, of about eighteen years of age, stepped forward and
+      flung his flat leathern cap upon the ground. “I will go, my Lord Baron,”
+       said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Good,” said the Baron, “the fifty marks are thine. And now listen, if
+      thou findest no one in the watch-tower, whistle thus; if the watchman be
+      at his post, see that thou makest all safe before thou givest the signal.
+      When all is ready the others will follow thee. And now go and good luck go
+      with thee.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young fellow spat upon his hands and, seizing the ropes, began slowly
+      and carefully to mount the flimsy, shaking ladder. Those below held it as
+      tight as they were able, but nevertheless he swung backward and forward
+      and round and round as he climbed steadily upward. Once he stopped upon
+      the way, and those below saw him clutch the ladder close to him as though
+      dizzied by the height and the motion but he soon began again, up, up, up
+      like some great black spider. Presently he came out from the black shadow
+      below and into the white moonlight, and then his shadow followed him step
+      by step up the gray wall upon his way. At last he reached the jutting
+      beam, and there again he stopped for a moment clutching tightly to it. The
+      next he was upon the beam, dragging himself toward the window of the
+      bartizan just above. Slowly raising himself upon his narrow foothold he
+      peeped cautiously within. Those watching him from below saw him slip his
+      hand softly to his side, and then place something between his teeth. It
+      was his dagger. Reaching up, he clutched the window sill above him and,
+      with a silent spring, seated himself upon it. The next moment he
+      disappeared within. A few seconds of silence followed, then of sudden a
+      sharp gurgling cry broke the stillness. There was another pause of
+      silence, then a faint shrill whistle sounded from above.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Who will go next?” said the Baron. It was Hans Schmidt who stepped
+      forward. Another followed the arch up the ladder, and another, and
+      another. Last of all went the Baron Henry himself, and nothing was left
+      but the rope ladder hanging from above, and swaying back and forth in the
+      wind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That night Schwartz Carl had been bousing it over a pot of yellow wine in
+      the pantry with his old crony, Master Rudolph, the steward; and the two,
+      chatting and gossiping together, had passed the time away until long after
+      the rest of the castle had been wrapped in sleep. Then, perhaps a little
+      unsteady upon his feet, Schwartz Carl betook himself homeward to the
+      Melchior tower.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stood for a while in the shadow of the doorway, gazing up into the pale
+      sky above him at the great, bright, round moon, that hung like a bubble
+      above the sharp peaks of the roofs standing black as ink against the sky.
+      But all of a sudden he started up from the post against which he had been
+      leaning, and with head bent to one side, stood listening breathlessly, for
+      he too had heard that smothered cry from the watch-tower. So he stood
+      intently, motionlessly, listening, listening; but all was silent except
+      for the monotonous dripping of water in one of the nooks of the
+      court-yard, and the distant murmur of the river borne upon the breath of
+      the night air. “Mayhap I was mistaken,” muttered Schwartz Carl to himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the next moment the silence was broken again by a faint, shrill
+      whistle; what did it mean?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Back of the heavy oaken door of the tower was Schwartz Carl’s cross-bow,
+      the portable windlass with which the bowstring was drawn back, and a pouch
+      of bolts. Schwartz Carl reached back into the darkness, fumbling in the
+      gloom until his fingers met the weapon. Setting his foot in the iron
+      stirrup at the end of the stock, he wound the stout bow-string into the
+      notch of the trigger, and carefully fitted the heavy, murderous-looking
+      bolt into the groove.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Minute after minute passed, and Schwartz Carl, holding his arbelast in his
+      hand, stood silently waiting and watching in the sharp-cut, black shadow
+      of the doorway, motionless as a stone statue. Minute after minute passed.
+      Suddenly there was a movement in the shadow of the arch of the great
+      gateway across the court-yard, and the next moment a leathern-clad figure
+      crept noiselessly out upon the moonlit pavement, and stood there
+      listening, his head bent to one side. Schwartz Carl knew very well that it
+      was no one belonging to the castle, and, from the nature of his action,
+      that he was upon no good errand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not stop to challenge the suspicious stranger. The taking of
+      another’s life was thought too small a matter for much thought or care in
+      those days. Schwartz Carl would have shot a man for a much smaller reason
+      than the suspicious actions of this fellow. The leather-clad figure stood
+      a fine target in the moonlight for a cross-bow bolt. Schwartz Carl slowly
+      raised the weapon to his shoulder and took a long and steady aim. Just
+      then the stranger put his fingers to his lips and gave a low, shrill
+      whistle. It was the last whistle that he was to give upon this earth.
+      There was a sharp, jarring twang of the bow-string, the hiss of the flying
+      bolt, and the dull thud as it struck its mark. The man gave a shrill,
+      quavering cry, and went staggering back, and then fell all of a heap
+      against the wall behind him. As though in answer to the cry, half a dozen
+      men rushed tumultuously out from the shadow of the gateway whence the
+      stranger had just come, and then stood in the court-yard, looking
+      uncertainly this way and that, not knowing from what quarter the stroke
+      had come that had laid their comrade low.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Schwartz Carl did not give them time to discover that; there was no
+      chance to string his cumbersome weapon again; down he flung it upon the
+      ground. “To arms!” he roared in a voice of thunder, and then clapped to
+      the door of Melchior’s tower and shot the great iron bolts with a clang
+      and rattle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next instant the Trutz-Drachen men were thundering at the door, but
+      Schwartz Carl was already far up the winding steps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But now the others came pouring out from the gateway. “To the house,”
+       roared Baron Henry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then suddenly a clashing, clanging uproar crashed out upon the night.
+      Dong! Dong! It was the great alarm bell from Melchior’s tower—Schwartz
+      Carl was at his post.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Little Baron Otto lay sleeping upon the great rough bed in his room,
+      dreaming of the White Cross on the hill and of brother John. By and by he
+      heard the convent bell ringing, and knew that there must be visitors at
+      the gate, for loud voices sounded through his dream. Presently he knew
+      that he was coming awake, but though the sunny monastery garden grew
+      dimmer and dimmer to his sleeping sight, the clanging of the bell and the
+      sound of shouts grew louder and louder. Then he opened his eyes. Flaming
+      red lights from torches, carried hither and thither by people in the
+      court-yard outside, flashed and ran along the wall of his room. Hoarse
+      shouts and cries filled the air, and suddenly the shrill, piercing shriek
+      of a woman rang from wall to wall; and through the noises the great bell
+      from far above upon Melchior’s tower clashed and clanged its harsh,
+      resonant alarm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Otto sprang from his bed and looked out of the window and down upon the
+      court-yard below. “Dear God! what dreadful thing hath happened?” he cried
+      and clasped his hands together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A cloud of smoke was pouring out from the windows of the building across
+      the court-yard, whence a dull ruddy glow flashed and flickered. Strange
+      men were running here and there with flaming torches, and the now
+      continuous shrieking of women pierced the air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just beneath the window lay the figure of a man half naked and face
+      downward upon the stones. Then suddenly Otto cried out in fear and horror,
+      for, as he looked with dazed and bewildered eyes down into the lurid
+      court-yard beneath, a savage man, in a shining breast-plate and steel cap,
+      came dragging the dark, silent figure of a woman across the stones; but
+      whether she was dead or in a swoon, Otto could not tell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And every moment the pulsing of that dull red glare from the windows of
+      the building across the court-yard shone more brightly, and the glare from
+      other flaming buildings, which Otto could not see from his window, turned
+      the black, starry night into a lurid day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just then the door of the room was burst open, and in rushed poor old
+      Ursela, crazy with her terror. She flung herself down upon the floor and
+      caught Otto around the knees. “Save me!” she cried, “save me!” as though
+      the poor, pale child could be of any help to her at such a time. In the
+      passageway without shone the light of torches, and the sound of loud
+      footsteps came nearer and nearer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And still through all the din sounded continually the clash and clang and
+      clamor of the great alarm bell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The red light flashed into the room, and in the doorway stood a tall, thin
+      figure clad from head to foot in glittering chain armor. From behind this
+      fierce knight, with his dark, narrow, cruel face, its deep-set eyes
+      glistening in the light of the torches, crowded six or eight savage,
+      low-browed, brutal men, who stared into the room and at the white-faced
+      boy as he stood by the window with the old woman clinging to his knees and
+      praying to him for help.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “We have cracked the nut and here is the kernel,” said one of them who
+      stood behind the rest, and thereupon a roar of brutal laughter went up.
+      But the cruel face of the armed knight never relaxed into a smile; he
+      strode into the room and laid his iron hand heavily upon the boy’s
+      shoulder. “Art thou the young Baron Otto?” said he, in a harsh voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Aye,” said the lad; “but do not kill me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The knight did not answer him. “Fetch the cord hither,” said he, “and drag
+      the old witch away.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It took two of them to loosen poor old Ursela’s crazy clutch from about
+      her young master. Then amid roars of laughter they dragged her away,
+      screaming and scratching and striking with her fists.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They drew back Otto’s arms behind his back and wrapped them round and
+      round with a bowstring. Then they pushed and hustled and thrust him forth
+      from the room and along the passageway, now bright with the flames that
+      roared and crackled without. Down the steep stairway they drove him, where
+      thrice he stumbled and fell amid roars of laughter. At last they were out
+      into the open air of the court-yard. Here was a terrible sight, but Otto
+      saw nothing of it; his blue eyes were gazing far away, and his lips moved
+      softly with the prayer that the good monks of St. Michaelsburg had taught
+      him, for he thought that they meant to slay him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All around the court-yard the flames roared and snapped and crackled. Four
+      or five figures lay scattered here and there, silent in all the glare and
+      uproar. The heat was so intense that they were soon forced back into the
+      shelter of the great gateway, where the women captives, under the guard of
+      three or four of the Trutz-Drachen men, were crowded together in dumb,
+      bewildered terror. Only one man was to be seen among the captives, poor,
+      old, half blind Master Rudolph, the steward, who crouched tremblingly
+      among the women.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They had set the blaze to Melchior’s tower, and now, below, it was a
+      seething furnace. Above, the smoke rolled in black clouds from the
+      windows, but still the alarm bell sounded through all the blaze and
+      smoke. Higher and higher the flames rose; a trickle of fire ran along the
+      frame buildings hanging aloft in the air. A clear flame burst out at the
+      peak of the roof, but still the bell rang forth its clamorous clangor.
+      Presently those who watched below saw the cluster of buildings bend and
+      sink and sway; there was a crash and roar, a cloud of sparks flew up as
+      though to the very heavens themselves, and the bell of Melchior’s tower
+      was stilled forever. A great shout arose from the watching, upturned
+      faces.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Forward!” cried Baron Henry, and out from the gateway they swept and
+      across the drawbridge, leaving Drachenhausen behind them a flaming furnace
+      blazing against the gray of the early dawning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      VIII. In the House of the Dragon Scorner.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Tall, narrow, gloomy room; no furniture but a rude bench, a bare stone
+      floor, cold stone walls and a gloomy ceiling of arched stone over head; a
+      long, narrow slit of a window high above in the wall, through the iron
+      bars of which Otto could see a small patch of blue sky and now and then a
+      darting swallow, for an instant seen, the next instant gone. Such was the
+      little baron’s prison in Trutz-Drachen. Fastened to a bolt and hanging
+      against the walls, hung a pair of heavy chains with gaping fetters at the
+      ends. They were thick with rust, and the red stain of the rust streaked
+      the wall below where they hung like a smear of blood. Little Otto
+      shuddered as he looked at them; can those be meant for me, he thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nothing was to be seen but that one patch of blue sky far up in the wall.
+      No sound from without was to be heard in that gloomy cell of stone, for
+      the window pierced the outer wall, and the earth and its noises lay far
+      below.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly a door crashed without, and the footsteps of men were heard
+      coming along the corridor. They stopped in front of Otto’s cell; he heard
+      the jingle of keys, and then a loud rattle of one thrust into the lock of
+      the heavy oaken door. The rusty bolt was shot back with a screech, the
+      door opened, and there stood Baron Henry, no longer in his armor, but clad
+      in a long black robe that reached nearly to his feet, a broad leather belt
+      was girdled about his waist, and from it dangled a short, heavy hunting
+      sword.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Another man was with the Baron, a heavy-faced fellow clad in a leathern
+      jerkin over which was drawn a short coat of linked mail.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two stood for a moment looking into the room, and Otto, his pale face
+      glimmering in the gloom, sat upon the edge of the heavy wooden bench or
+      bed, looking back at them out of his great blue eyes. Then the two entered
+      and closed the door behind them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Dost thou know why thou art here?” said the Baron, in his deep, harsh
+      voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nay,” said Otto, “I know not.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “So?” said the Baron. “Then I will tell thee. Three years ago the good
+      Baron Frederick, my uncle, kneeled in the dust and besought mercy at thy
+      father’s hands; the mercy he received was the coward blow that slew him.
+      Thou knowest the story?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Aye,” said Otto, tremblingly, “I know it.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Then dost thou not know why I am here?” said the Baron.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nay, dear Lord Baron, I know not,” said poor little Otto, and began to
+      weep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Baron stood for a moment or two looking gloomily upon him, as the
+      little boy sat there with the tears running down his white face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I will tell thee,” said he, at last; “I swore an oath that the red cock
+      should crow on Drachenhausen, and I have given it to the dames. I swore an
+      oath that no Vuelph that ever left my hands should be able to strike such
+      a blow as thy father gave to Baron Frederick, and now I will fulfil that
+      too. Catch the boy, Casper, and hold him.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As the man in the mail shirt stepped toward little Otto, the boy leaped up
+      from where he sat and caught the Baron about the knees. “Oh! dear Lord
+      Baron,” he cried, “do not harm me; I am only a little child, I have never
+      done harm to thee; do not harm me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Take him away,” said the Baron, harshly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The fellow stooped, and loosening Otto’s hold, in spite of his struggles
+      and cries, carried him to the bench, against which he held him, whilst the
+      Baron stood above him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Baron Henry and the other came forth from the cell, carefully closing the
+      wooden door behind them. At the end of the corridor the Baron turned, “Let
+      the leech be sent to the boy,” said he. And then he turned and walked
+      away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Otto lay upon the hard couch in his cell, covered with a shaggy bear skin.
+      His face was paler and thinner than ever, and dark rings encircled his
+      blue eyes. He was looking toward the door, for there was a noise of
+      someone fumbling with the lock without.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Since that dreadful day when Baron Henry had come to his cell, only two
+      souls had visited Otto. One was the fellow who had come with the Baron
+      that time; his name, Otto found, was Casper. He brought the boy his rude
+      meals of bread and meat and water. The other visitor was the leech or
+      doctor, a thin, weasand little man, with a kindly, wrinkled face and a
+      gossiping tongue, who, besides binding wounds, bleeding, and leeching, and
+      administering his simple remedies to those who were taken sick in the
+      castle, acted as the Baron’s barber.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Baron had left the key in the lock of the door, so that these two
+      might enter when they chose, but Otto knew that it was neither the one nor
+      the other whom he now heard at the door, working uncertainly with the key,
+      striving to turn it in the rusty, cumbersome lock. At last the bolts
+      grated back, there was a pause, and then the door opened a little way, and
+      Otto thought that he could see someone peeping in from without. By and by
+      the door opened further, there was another pause, and then a slender,
+      elfish-looking little girl, with straight black hair and shining black
+      eyes, crept noiselessly into the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She stood close by the door with her finger in her mouth, staring at the
+      boy where he lay upon his couch, and Otto upon his part lay, full of
+      wonder, gazing back upon the little elfin creature.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She, seeing that he made no sign or motion, stepped a little nearer, and
+      then, after a moment’s pause, a little nearer still, until, at last, she
+      stood within a few feet of where he lay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Art thou the Baron Otto?” said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes,” answered Otto.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Prut!” said she, “and is that so! Why, I thought that thou wert a great
+      tall fellow at least, and here thou art a little boy no older than Carl
+      Max, the gooseherd.” Then, after a little pause—“My name is Pauline,
+      and my father is the Baron. I heard him tell my mother all about thee, and
+      so I wanted to come here and see thee myself: Art thou sick?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes,” said Otto, “I am sick.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “And did my father hurt thee?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Aye,” said Otto, and his eyes filled with tears, until one sparkling drop
+      trickled slowly down his white face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Little Pauline stood looking seriously at him for a while. “I am sorry for
+      thee, Otto,” said she, at last. And then, at her childish pity, he began
+      crying in earnest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was only the first visit of many from the little maid, for after that
+      she often came to Otto’s prison, who began to look for her coming from day
+      to day as the one bright spot in the darkness and the gloom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sitting upon the edge of his bed and gazing into his face with wide open
+      eyes, she would listen to him by the hour, as he told her of his life in
+      that far away monastery home; of poor, simple brother John’s wonderful
+      visions, of the good Abbot’s books with their beautiful pictures, and of
+      all the monkish tales and stories of knights and dragons and heroes and
+      emperors of ancient Rome, which brother Emmanuel had taught him to read in
+      the crabbed monkish Latin in which they were written.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day the little maid sat for a long while silent after he had ended
+      speaking. At last she drew a deep breath. “And are all these things that
+      thou tellest me about the priests in their castle really true?” said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes,” said Otto, “all are true.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “And do they never go out to fight other priests?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No,” said Otto, “they know nothing of fighting.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “So!” said she. And then fell silent in the thought of the wonder of it
+      all, and that there should be men in the world that knew nothing of
+      violence and bloodshed; for in all the eight years of her life she had
+      scarcely been outside of the walls of Castle Trutz-Drachen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At another time it was of Otto’s mother that they were speaking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “And didst thou never see her, Otto?” said the little girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Aye,” said Otto, “I see her sometimes in my dreams, and her face always
+      shines so bright that I know she is an angel; for brother John has often
+      seen the dear angels, and he tells me that their faces always shine in
+      that way. I saw her the night thy father hurt me so, for I could not sleep
+      and my head felt as though it would break asunder. Then she came and
+      leaned over me and kissed my forehead, and after that I fell asleep.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “But where did she come from, Otto?” said the little girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “From paradise, I think,” said Otto, with that patient seriousness that he
+      had caught from the monks, and that sat so quaintly upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “So!” said little Pauline; and then, after a pause, “That is why thy
+      mother kissed thee when thy head ached—because she is an angel. When
+      I was sick my mother bade Gretchen carry me to a far part of the house,
+      because I cried and so troubled her. Did thy mother ever strike thee,
+      Otto?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nay,” said Otto.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Mine hath often struck me,” said Pauline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day little Pauline came bustling into Otto’s cell, her head full of
+      the news which she carried. “My father says that thy father is out in the
+      woods somewhere yonder, back of the castle, for Fritz, the swineherd, told
+      my father that last night he had seen a fire in the woods, and that he had
+      crept up to it without anyone knowing. There he had seen the Baron Conrad
+      and six of his men, and that they were eating one of the swine that they
+      had killed and roasted. Maybe,” said she, seating herself upon the edge of
+      Otto’s couch; “maybe my father will kill thy father, and they will bring
+      him here and let him lie upon a black bed with bright candles burning
+      around him, as they did my uncle Frederick when he was killed.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “God forbid!” said Otto, and then lay for a while with his hands clasped.
+      “Dost thou love me, Pauline?” said he, after a while.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes,” said Pauline, “for thou art a good child, though my father says
+      that thy wits are cracked.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Mayhap they are,” said Otto, simply, “for I have often been told so
+      before. But thou wouldst not see me die, Pauline; wouldst thou?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nay,” said Pauline, “I would not see thee die, for then thou couldst tell
+      me no more stories; for they told me that uncle Frederick could not speak
+      because he was dead.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Then listen, Pauline,” said Otto; “if I go not away from here I shall
+      surely die. Every day I grow more sick and the leech cannot cure me.” Here
+      he broke down and, turning his face upon the couch, began crying, while
+      little Pauline sat looking seriously at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Why dost thou cry, Otto?” said she, after a while.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Because,” said he, “I am so sick, and I want my father to come and take
+      me away from here.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “But why dost thou want to go away?” said Pauline. “If thy father takes
+      thee away, thou canst not tell me any more stories.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes, I can,” said Otto, “for when I grow to be a man I will come again
+      and marry thee, and when thou art my wife I can tell thee all the stories
+      that I know. Dear Pauline, canst thou not tell my father where I am, that
+      he may come here and take me away before I die?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Mayhap I could do so,” said Pauline, after a little while, “for sometimes
+      I go with Casper Max to see his mother, who nursed me when I was a baby.
+      She is the wife of Fritz, the swineherd, and she will make him tell thy
+      father; for she will do whatever I ask of her, and Fritz will do whatever
+      she bids him do.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “And for my sake, wilt thou tell him, Pauline?” said Otto.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “But see, Otto,” said the little girl, “if I tell him, wilt thou promise
+      to come indeed and marry me when thou art grown a man?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes,” said Otto, very seriously, “I will promise.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Then I will tell thy father where thou art,” said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “But thou wilt do it without the Baron Henry knowing, wilt thou not,
+      Pauline?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes,” said she, “for if my father and my mother knew that I did such a
+      thing, they would strike me, mayhap send me to my bed alone in the dark.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      IX. How One-eyed Hans came to Trutz-Drachen.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Fritz, the swineherd, sat eating his late supper of porridge out of a
+      great, coarse, wooden bowl; wife Katherine sat at the other end of the
+      table, and the half-naked little children played upon the earthen floor. A
+      shaggy dog lay curled up in front of the fire, and a grunting pig
+      scratched against a leg of the rude table close beside where the woman
+      sat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes, yes,” said Katherine, speaking of the matter of which they had
+      already been talking. “It is all very true that the Drachenhausens are a
+      bad lot, and I for one am of no mind to say no to that; all the same it is
+      a sad thing that a simple-witted little child like the young Baron should
+      be so treated as the boy has been; and now that our Lord Baron has served
+      him so that he, at least, will never be able to do us harm, I for one say
+      that he should not be left there to die alone in that black cell.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fritz, the swineherd, gave a grunt at this without raising his eyes from
+      the bowl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes, good,” said Katherine, “I know what thou meanest, Fritz, and that it
+      is none of my business to be thrusting my finger into the Baron’s dish.
+      But to hear the way that dear little child spoke when she was here this
+      morn—it would have moved a heart of stone to hear her tell of all
+      his pretty talk. Thou wilt try to let the red-beard know that that poor
+      boy, his son, is sick to death in the black cell; wilt thou not, Fritz?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The swineherd dropped his wooden spoon into the bowl with a clatter.
+      “Potstausand!” he cried; “art thou gone out of thy head to let thy wits
+      run upon such things as this of which thou talkest to me? If it should
+      come to our Lord Baron’s ears he would cut the tongue from out thy head
+      and my head from off my shoulders for it. Dost thou think I am going to
+      meddle in such a matter as this? Listen! these proud Baron folk, with
+      their masterful ways, drive our sort hither and thither; they beat us,
+      they drive us, they kill us as they choose. Our lives are not as much to
+      them as one of my black swine. Why should I trouble my head if they choose
+      to lop and trim one another? The fewer there are of them the better for
+      us, say I. We poor folk have a hard enough life of it without thrusting
+      our heads into the noose to help them out of their troubles. What thinkest
+      thou would happen to us if Baron Henry should hear of our betraying his
+      affairs to the Red-beard?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nay,” said Katherine, “thou hast naught to do in the matter but to tell
+      the Red-beard in what part of the castle the little Baron lies.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “And what good would that do?” said Fritz, the swineherd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I know not,” said Katherine, “but I have promised the little one that
+      thou wouldst find the Baron Conrad and tell him that much.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Thou hast promised a mare’s egg,” said her husband, angrily. “How shall I
+      find the Baron Conrad to bear a message to him, when our Baron has been
+      looking for him in vain for two days past?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Thou has found him once and thou mayst find him again,” said Katherine,
+      “for it is not likely that he will keep far away from here whilst his boy
+      is in such sore need of help.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I will have nothing to do with it!” said Fritz, and he got up from the
+      wooden block whereon he was sitting and stumped out of the house. But,
+      then, Katherine had heard him talk in that way before, and knew, in spite
+      of his saying “no,” that, sooner or later, he would do as she wished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Two days later a very stout little one-eyed man, clad in a leathern jerkin
+      and wearing a round leathern cap upon his head, came toiling up the path
+      to the postern door of Trutz-Drachen, his back bowed under the burthen of
+      a great peddler’s pack. It was our old friend the one-eyed Hans, though
+      even his brother would hardly have known him in his present guise, for,
+      besides having turned peddler, he had grown of a sudden surprisingly fat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rap-tap-tap! He knocked at the door with a knotted end of the crooked
+      thorned staff upon which he leaned. He waited for a while and then knocked
+      again—rap-tap-tap!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently, with a click, a little square wicket that pierced the door was
+      opened, and a woman’s face peered out through the iron bars.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The one-eyed Hans whipped off his leathern cap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Good day, pretty one,” said he, “and hast thou any need of glass beads,
+      ribbons, combs, or trinkets? Here I am come all the way from Gruenstadt,
+      with a pack full of such gay things as thou never laid eyes on before.
+      Here be rings and bracelets and necklaces that might be of pure silver and
+      set with diamonds and rubies, for anything that thy dear one could tell if
+      he saw thee decked in them. And all are so cheap that thou hast only to
+      say, ‘I want them,’ and they are thine.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The frightened face at the window looked from right to left and from left
+      to right. “Hush,” said the girl, and laid her finger upon her lips.
+      “There! thou hadst best get away from here, poor soul, as fast as thy legs
+      can carry thee, for if the Lord Baron should find thee here talking
+      secretly at the postern door, he would loose the wolf-hounds upon thee.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Prut,” said one-eyed Hans, with a grin, “the Baron is too big a fly to
+      see such a little gnat as I; but wolf-hounds or no wolf-hounds, I can
+      never go hence without showing thee the pretty things that I have brought
+      from the town, even though my stay be at the danger of my own hide.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He flung the pack from off his shoulders as he spoke and fell to
+      unstrapping it, while the round face of the lass (her eyes big with
+      curiosity) peered down at him through the grated iron bars.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hans held up a necklace of blue and white beads that glistened like jewels
+      in the sun, and from them hung a gorgeous filigree cross. “Didst thou ever
+      see a sweeter thing than this?” said he; “and look, here is a comb that
+      even the silversmith would swear was pure silver all the way through.”
+       Then, in a soft, wheedling voice, “Canst thou not let me in, my little
+      bird? Sure there are other lasses besides thyself who would like to trade
+      with a poor peddler who has travelled all the way from Gruenstadt just to
+      please the pretty ones of Trutz-Drachen.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nay,” said the lass, in a frightened voice, “I cannot let thee in; I know
+      not what the Baron would do to me, even now, if he knew that I was here
+      talking to a stranger at the postern;” and she made as if she would clap
+      to the little window in his face; but the one-eyed Hans thrust his staff
+      betwixt the bars and so kept the shutter open.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nay, nay,” said he, eagerly, “do not go away from me too soon. Look, dear
+      one; seest thou this necklace?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Aye,” said she, looking hungrily at it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Then listen; if thou wilt but let me into the castle, so that I may
+      strike a trade, I will give it to thee for thine own without thy paying a
+      barley corn for it.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl looked and hesitated, and then looked again; the temptation was
+      too great. There was a noise of softly drawn bolts and bars, the door was
+      hesitatingly opened a little way, and, in a twinkling, the one-eyed Hans
+      had slipped inside the castle, pack and all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “The necklace,” said the girl, in a frightened whisper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hans thrust it into her hand. “It’s thine,” said he, “and now wilt thou
+      not help me to a trade?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I will tell my sister that thou art here,” said she, and away she ran
+      from the little stone hallway, carefully bolting and locking the further
+      door behind her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The door that the girl had locked was the only one that connected the
+      postern hail with the castle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The one-eyed Hans stood looking after her. “Thou fool!” he muttered to
+      himself, “to lock the door behind thee. What shall I do next, I should
+      like to know? Here am I just as badly off as I was when I stood outside
+      the walls. Thou hussy! If thou hadst but let me into the castle for only
+      two little minutes, I would have found somewhere to have hidden myself
+      while thy back was turned. But what shall I do now?” He rested his pack
+      upon the floor and stood looking about him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Built in the stone wall opposite to him, was a high, narrow fireplace
+      without carving of any sort. As Hans’ one eye wandered around the bare
+      stone space, his glance fell at last upon it, and there it rested. For a
+      while he stood looking intently at it, presently he began rubbing his hand
+      over his bristling chin in a thoughtful, meditative manner. Finally he
+      drew a deep breath, and giving himself a shake as though to arouse himself
+      from his thoughts, and after listening a moment or two to make sure that
+      no one was nigh, he walked softly to the fireplace, and stooping, peered
+      up the chimney. Above him yawned a black cavernous depth, inky with the
+      soot of years. Hans straightened himself, and tilting his leathern cap to
+      one side, began scratching his bullet-head; at last he drew a long breath.
+      “Yes, good,” he muttered to himself; “he who jumps into the river must
+      e’en swim the best he can. It is a vile, dirty place to thrust one’s self;
+      but I am in for it now, and must make the best of a lame horse.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He settled the cap more firmly upon his head, spat upon his hands, and
+      once more stooping in the fireplace, gave a leap, and up the chimney he
+      went with a rattle of loose mortar and a black trickle of soot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By and by footsteps sounded outside the door. There was a pause; a hurried
+      whispering of women’s voices; the twitter of a nervous laugh, and then the
+      door was pushed softly opens and the girl to whom the one-eyed Hans had
+      given the necklace of blue and white beads with the filigree cross hanging
+      from it, peeped uncertainly into the room. Behind her broad, heavy face
+      were three others, equally homely and stolid; for a while all four stood
+      there, looking blankly into the room and around it. Nothing was there but
+      the peddler’s knapsack lying in the middle of the floor-the man was gone.
+      The light of expectancy slowly faded Out of the girl’s face, and in its
+      place succeeded first bewilderment and then dull alarm. “But, dear
+      heaven,” she said, “where then has the peddler man gone?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A moment or two of silence followed her speech. “Perhaps,” said one of the
+      others, in a voice hushed with awe, “perhaps it was the evil one himself
+      to whom thou didst open the door.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again there was a hushed and breathless pause; it was the lass who had let
+      Hans in at the postern, who next spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes,” said she, in a voice trembling with fright at what she had done,
+      “yes, it must have been the evil one, for now I remember he had but one
+      eye.” The four girls crossed themselves, and their eyes grew big and round
+      with the fright.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly a shower of mortar came rattling down the chimney. “Ach!” cried
+      the four, as with one voice. Bang! the door was clapped to and away they
+      scurried like a flock of frightened rabbits.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Jacob, the watchman, came that way an hour later, upon his evening
+      round of the castle, he found a peddler’s knapsack lying in the middle of
+      the floor. He turned it over with his pike-staff and saw that it was full
+      of beads and trinkets and ribbons.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “How came this here?” said he. And then, without waiting for the answer
+      which he did not expect, he flung it over his shoulder and marched away
+      with it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      X. How Hans Brought Terror to the Kitchen.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Hans found himself in a pretty pickle in the chimney, for the soot got
+      into his one eye and set it to watering, and into his nose and set him to
+      sneezing, and into his mouth and his ears and his hair. But still he
+      struggled on, up and up; “for every chimney has a top,” said Hans to
+      himself “and I am sure to climb out somewhere or other.” Suddenly he came
+      to a place where another chimney joined the one he was climbing, and here
+      he stopped to consider the matter at his leisure. “See now,” he muttered,
+      “if I still go upward I may come out at the top of some tall chimney-stack
+      with no way of getting down outside. Now, below here there must be a
+      fire-place somewhere, for a chimney does not start from nothing at all;
+      yes, good! we will go down a while and see what we make of that.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a crooked, zigzag road that he had to travel, and rough and hard
+      into the bargain. His one eye tingled and smarted, and his knees and
+      elbows were rubbed to the quick; nevertheless One-eyed Hans had been in
+      worse trouble than this in his life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Down he went and down he went, further than he had climbed upward before.
+      “Sure, I must be near some place or other,” he thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As though in instant answer to his thoughts, he heard the sudden sound of
+      a voice so close beneath him that he stopped short in his downward
+      climbing and stood as still as a mouse, with his heart in his mouth. A few
+      inches more and he would have been discovered;—what would have
+      happened then would have been no hard matter to foretell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hans braced his back against one side of the chimney, his feet against the
+      other and then, leaning forward, looked down between his knees. The gray
+      light of the coming evening glimmered in a wide stone fireplace just below
+      him. Within the fireplace two people were moving about upon the broad
+      hearth, a great, fat woman and a shock-headed boy. The woman held a spit
+      with two newly trussed fowls upon it, so that One-eyed Hans knew that she
+      must be the cook.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Thou ugly toad,” said the woman to the boy, “did I not bid thee make a
+      fire an hour ago? and now, here there is not so much as a spark to roast
+      the fowls withall, and they to be basted for the lord Baron’s supper.
+      Where hast thou been for all this time?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No matter,” said the boy, sullenly, as he laid the fagots ready for the
+      lighting; “no matter, I was not running after Long Jacob, the bowman, to
+      try to catch him for a sweetheart, as thou hast been doing.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The reply was instant and ready. The cook raised her hand; “smack!” she
+      struck and a roar from the scullion followed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes, good,” thought Hans, as he looked down upon them; “I am glad that
+      the boy’s ear was not on my head.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Now give me no more of thy talk,” said the woman, “but do the work that
+      thou hast been bidden.” Then—“How came all this black soot here, I
+      should like to know?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “How should I know?” snuffled the scullion, “mayhap thou wouldst blame
+      that on me also?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “That is my doing,” whispered Hans to himself; “but if they light the
+      fire, what then becomes of me?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “See now,” said the cook; “I go to make the cakes ready; if I come back
+      and find that thou hast not built the fire, I will warm thy other ear for
+      thee.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “So,” thought Hans; “then will be my time to come down the chimney, for
+      there will be but one of them.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The next moment he heard the door close and knew that the cook had gone to
+      make the cakes ready as she said. And as he looked down he saw that the
+      boy was bending over the bundle of fagots, blowing the spark that he had
+      brought in upon the punk into a flame. The dry fagots began to crackle and
+      blaze. “Now is my time,” said Hans to himself. Bracing his elbows against
+      each side of the chimney, he straightened his legs so that he might fall
+      clear. His motions loosened little shower of soot that fell rattling upon
+      the fagots that were now beginning to blaze brightly, whereupon the boy
+      raised his face and looked up. Hans loosened his hold upon the chimney;
+      crash! he fell, lighting upon his feet in the midst of the burning fagots.
+      The scullion boy tumbled backward upon the floor, where he lay upon the
+      broad of his back with a face as white as dough and eyes and mouth agape,
+      staring speechlessly at the frightful inky-black figure standing in the
+      midst of the flames and smoke. Then his scattered wits came back to him.
+      “It is the evil one,” he roared. And thereupon, turning upon his side, he
+      half rolled, half scrambled to the door. Then out he leaped and, banging
+      it to behind him, flew down the passageway, yelling with fright and never
+      daring once to look behind him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All the time One-eyed Hans was brushing away the sparks that clung to his
+      clothes. He was as black as ink from head to foot with the soot from the
+      chimney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “So far all is good,” he muttered to himself, “but if I go wandering about
+      in my sooty shoes I will leave black tracks to follow me, so there is
+      nothing to do but e’en to go barefoot.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stooped and drawing the pointed soft leather shoes from his feet, he
+      threw them upon the now blazing fagots, where they writhed and twisted and
+      wrinkled, and at last burst into a flame. Meanwhile Hans lost no time; he
+      must find a hiding-place, and quickly, if he would yet hope to escape. A
+      great bread trough stood in the corner of the kitchen—a
+      hopper-shaped chest with a flat lid. It was the best hiding place that the
+      room afforded. Without further thought Hans ran to it, snatching up from
+      the table as he passed a loaf of black bread and a bottle half full of
+      stale wine, for he had had nothing to eat since that morning. Into the
+      great bread trough he climbed, and drawing the lid down upon him, curled
+      himself up as snugly as a mouse in its nest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a while the kitchen lay in silence, but at last the sound of voices
+      was heard at the door, whispering together in low tones. Suddenly the door
+      was flung open and a tall, lean, lantern-jawed fellow, clad in rough
+      frieze, strode into the room and stood there glaring with half frightened
+      boldness around about him; three or four women and the trembling scullion
+      crowded together in a frightened group behind him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man was Long Jacob, the bowman; but, after all, his boldness was all
+      wasted, for not a thread or a hair was to be seen, but only the crackling
+      fire throwing its cheerful ruddy glow upon the wall of the room, now
+      rapidly darkening in the falling gray of the twilight without.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The fat cook’s fright began rapidly to turn into anger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Thou imp,” she cried, “it is one of thy tricks,” and she made a dive for
+      the scullion, who ducked around the skirts of one of the other women and
+      so escaped for the time; but Long Jacob wrinkled up his nose and sniffed.
+      “Nay,” said he, “me thinks that there lieth some truth in the tale that
+      the boy hath told, for here is a vile smell of burned horn that the black
+      one hath left behind him.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the smell from the soft leather shoes that Hans had burned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The silence of night had fallen over the Castle of Trutz-Drachen; not a
+      sound was heard but the squeaking of mice scurring behind the wainscoting,
+      the dull dripping of moisture from the eaves, or the sighing of the night
+      wind around the gables and through the naked windows of the castle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lid of the great dough trough was softly raised, and a face, black
+      with soot, peeped cautiously out from under it. Then little by little
+      arose a figure as black as the face; and One-eyed Hans stepped out upon
+      the floor, stretching and rubbing himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Methinks I must have slept,” he muttered. “Hui, I am as stiff as a new
+      leather doublet, and now, what next is to become of me? I hope my luck may
+      yet stick to me, in spite of this foul black soot!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Along the middle of the front of the great hall of the castle, ran a long
+      stone gallery, opening at one end upon the court-yard by a high flight of
+      stone steps. A man-at-arms in breast-plate and steel cap, and bearing a
+      long pike, paced up and down the length of this gallery, now and then
+      stopping, leaning over the edge, and gazing up into the starry sky above;
+      then, with a long drawn yawn, lazily turning back to the monotonous watch
+      again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A dark figure crept out from an arched doorway at the lower part of the
+      long straight building, and some little distance below the end gallery,
+      but the sentry saw nothing of it, for his back was turned. As silently and
+      as stealthily as a cat the figure crawled along by the dark shadowy wall,
+      now and then stopping, and then again creeping slowly forward toward the
+      gallery where the man-at-arms moved monotonously up and down. It was
+      One-eyed Hans in his bare feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Inch by inch, foot by foot—the black figure crawled along in the
+      angle of the wall; inch by inch and foot by foot, but ever nearer and
+      nearer to the long straight row of stone steps that led to the covered
+      gallery. At last it crouched at the lowest step of the flight. Just then
+      the sentinel upon watch came to the very end of the gallery and stood
+      there leaning upon his spear. Had he looked down below he could not have
+      failed to have seen One-eyed Hans lying there motionlessly; but he was
+      gazing far away over the steep black roofs beyond, and never saw the
+      unsuspected presence. Minute after minute passed, and the one stood there
+      looking out into the night and the other lay crouching by the wall; then
+      with a weary sigh the sentry turned and began slowly pacing back again
+      toward the farther end of the gallery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Instantly the motionless figure below arose and glided noiselessly and
+      swiftly up the flight of steps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Two rude stone pillars flanked either side of the end of the gallery. Like
+      a shadow the black figure slipped behind one of these, flattening itself
+      up against the wall, where it stood straight and motionless as the shadows
+      around it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Down the long gallery came the watchman, his sword clinking loudly in the
+      silence as he walked, tramp, tramp, tramp! clink, clank, jingle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Within three feet of the motionless figure behind the pillar he turned,
+      and began retracing his monotonous steps. Instantly the other left the
+      shadow of the post and crept rapidly and stealthily after him. One step,
+      two steps the sentinel took; for a moment the black figure behind him
+      seemed to crouch and draw together, then like a flash it leaped forward
+      upon its victim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A shadowy cloth fell upon the man’s face, and in an instant he was flung
+      back and down with a muffled crash upon the stones. Then followed a fierce
+      and silent struggle in the darkness, but strong and sturdy as the man was,
+      he was no match for the almost superhuman strength of One-eyed Hans. The
+      cloth which he had flung over his head was tied tightly and securely. Then
+      the man was forced upon his face and, in spite of his fierce struggles,
+      his arms were bound around and around with strong fine cord; next his feet
+      were bound in the same way, and the task was done. Then Hans stood upon
+      his feet, and wiped the sweat from his swarthy forehead. “Listen,
+      brother,” he whispered, and as he spoke he stooped and pressed something
+      cold and hard against the neck of the other. “Dost thou know the feel of
+      this? It is a broad dagger, and if thou dost contrive to loose that gag
+      from thy mouth and makest any outcry, it shall be sheathed in thy
+      weasand.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So saying, he thrust the knife back again into its sheath, then stooping
+      and picking up the other, he flung him across his shoulder like a sack,
+      and running down the steps as lightly as though his load was nothing at
+      all, he carried his burden to the arched doorway whence he had come a
+      little while before. There, having first stripped his prisoner of all his
+      weapons, Hans sat the man up in the angle of the wall. “So, brother;” said
+      he, “now we can talk with more ease than we could up yonder. I will tell
+      thee frankly why I am here; it is to find where the young Baron Otto of
+      Drachenhausen is kept. If thou canst tell me, well and good; if not, I
+      must e’en cut thy weasand and find me one who knoweth more. Now, canst
+      thou tell me what I would learn, brother?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other nodded dimly in the darkness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “That is good,” said Hans, “then I will loose thy gag until thou hast told
+      me; only bear in mind what I said concerning my dagger.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon, he unbound his prisoner, and the fellow slowly rose to his
+      feet. He shook himself and looked all about him in a heavy, bewildered
+      fashion, as though he had just awakened from a dream.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His right hand slid furtively down to his side, but the dagger-sheath was
+      empty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Come, brother!” said Hans, impatiently, “time is passing, and once lost
+      can never be found again. Show me the way to the young Baron Otto or—.”
+       And he whetted the shining blade of his dagger on his horny palm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The fellow needed no further bidding; turning, he led the way, and
+      together they were swallowed up in the yawning shadows, and again the hush
+      of night-time lay upon the Castle of Trutz-Drachen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XI. How Otto was Saved.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Little Otto was lying upon the hard couch in his cell, tossing in restless
+      and feverish sleep; suddenly a heavy hand was laid upon him and a voice
+      whispered in his ear, “Baron, Baron Otto, waken, rouse yourself; I am come
+      to help you. I am One-eyed Hans.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Otto was awake in an instant and raised himself upon his elbow in the
+      darkness. “One-eyed Hans,” he breathed, “One-eyed Hans; who is One-eyed
+      Hans?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “True,” said the other, “thou dost not know me. I am thy father’s trusted
+      servant, and am the only one excepting his own blood and kin who has clung
+      to him in this hour of trouble. Yes, all are gone but me alone, and so I
+      have come to help thee away from this vile place.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, dear, good Hans! if only thou canst!” cried Otto; “if only thou canst
+      take me away from this wicked place. Alas, dear Hans! I am weary and sick
+      to death.” And poor little Otto began to weep silently in the darkness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Aye, aye,” said Hans, gruffly, “it is no place for a little child to be.
+      Canst thou climb, my little master? canst thou climb a knotted rope?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nay,” said Otto, “I can never climb again! See, Hans;” and he flung back
+      the covers from off him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I cannot see,” said Hans, “it is too dark.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Then feel, dear Hans,” said Otto.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hans bent over the poor little white figure glimmering palely in the
+      darkness. Suddenly he drew back with a snarl like an angry wolf. “Oh! the
+      black, bloody wretches!” he cried, hoarsely; “and have they done that to
+      thee, a little child?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes,” said Otto, “the Baron Henry did it.” And then again he began to
+      cry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “There, there,” said Hans, roughly, “weep no more. Thou shalt get away
+      from here even if thou canst not climb; I myself will help thee. Thy
+      father is already waiting below the window here, and thou shalt soon be
+      with him. There, there, cry no more.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While he was speaking Hans had stripped off his peddler’s leathern jacket,
+      and there, around his body, was wrapped coil after coil of stout hempen
+      rope tied in knots at short distances. He began unwinding the rope, and
+      when he had done he was as thin as ever he had been before. Next he drew
+      from the pouch that hung at his side a ball of fine cord and a leaden
+      weight pierced by a hole, both of which he had brought with him for the
+      use to which he now put them. He tied the lead to the end of the cord,
+      then whirling the weight above his head, he flung it up toward the window
+      high above. Twice the piece of lead fell back again into the room; the
+      third time it flew out between the iron bars carrying the cord with it.
+      Hans held the ball in his hand and paid out the string as the weight
+      carried it downward toward the ground beneath. Suddenly the cord stopped
+      running. Hans jerked it and shook it, but it moved no farther. “Pray
+      heaven, little child,” said he, “that it hath reached the ground, for if
+      it hath not we are certainly lost.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I do pray,” said Otto, and he bowed his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, as though in answer to his prayer, there came a twitch upon the
+      cord.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “See,” said Hans, “they have heard thee up above in heaven; it was thy
+      father who did that.” Quickly and deftly he tied the cord to the end of
+      the knotted rope; then he gave an answering jerk upon the string. The next
+      moment the rope was drawn up to the window and down the outside by those
+      below. Otto lay watching the rope as it crawled up to the window and out
+      into the night like a great snake, while One-eyed Hans held the other end
+      lest it should be drawn too far. At last it stopped. “Good,” muttered
+      Hans, as though to himself. “The rope is long enough.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He waited for a few minutes and then, drawing upon the rope and finding
+      that it was held from below, he spat upon his hands and began slowly
+      climbing up to the window above. Winding his arm around the iron bars of
+      the grating that guarded it, he thrust his hand into the pouch that hung
+      by his side, and drawing forth a file, fell to work cutting through all
+      that now lay between Otto and liberty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was slow, slow work, and it seemed to Otto as though Hans would never
+      finish his task, as lying upon his hard couch he watched that figure,
+      black against the sky, bending over its work. Now and then the file
+      screeched against the hard iron, and then Hans would cease for a moment,
+      but only to begin again as industriously as ever. Three or four times he
+      tried the effects of his work, but still the iron held. At last he set his
+      shoulder against it, and as Otto looked he saw the iron bend. Suddenly
+      there was a sharp crack, and a piece of the grating went flying out into
+      the night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hans tied the rope securely about the stump of the stout iron bar that yet
+      remained, and then slid down again into the room below.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “My little lord,” said he, “dost thou think that if I carry thee, thou
+      wilt be able and strong enough to cling to my neck?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Aye,” said Otto, “methinks I will be able to do that.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Then come,” said Hans.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stooped as he spoke, and gently lifting Otto from his rude and rugged
+      bed he drew his broad leathern belt around them both, buckling it firmly
+      and securely. “It does not hurt thee?” said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Not much,” whispered Otto faintly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Hans spat upon his hands, and began slowly climbing the rope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They reached the edge of the window and there they rested for a moment,
+      and Otto renewed his hold around the neck of the faithful Hans.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “And now art thou ready?” said Hans
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Aye,” said Otto.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Then courage,” said Hans, and he turned and swung his leg over the abyss
+      below.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next moment they were hanging in mid-air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Otto looked down and gave a gasp. “The mother of heaven bless us,” he
+      whispered, and then closed his eyes, faint and dizzy at the sight of that
+      sheer depth beneath. Hans said nothing, but shutting his teeth and
+      wrapping his legs around the rope, he began slowly descending, hand under
+      hand. Down, down, down he went, until to Otto, with his eyes shut and his
+      head leaning upon Hans’ shoulder, it seemed as though it could never end.
+      Down, down, down. Suddenly he felt Hans draw a deep breath; there was a
+      slight jar, and Otto opened his eyes; Hans was standing upon the ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A figure wrapped in a dark cloak arose from the shadow of the wall, and
+      took Otto in its arms. It was Baron Conrad.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “My son—my little child!” he cried, in a choked, trembling voice,
+      and that was all. And Otto pressed his cheek against his father’s and
+      began crying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly the Baron gave a sharp, fierce cry. “Dear Heaven!” he cried;
+      “what have they done to thee?” But poor little Otto could not answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh!” gasped the Baron, in a strangled voice, “my little child! my little
+      child!” And therewith he broke down, and his whole body shook with fierce,
+      dry sobs; for men in those days did not seek to hide their grief as they
+      do now, but were fierce and strong in the expression of that as of all
+      else.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Never mind, dear father,” whispered Otto; “it did not hurt me so very
+      much,” and he pressed his lips against his father’s cheek.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Little Otto had but one hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XII. A Ride For Life.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      But not yet was Otto safe, and all danger past and gone by. Suddenly, as
+      they stood there, the harsh clangor of a bell broke the silence of the
+      starry night above their heads, and as they raised their faces and looked
+      up, they saw lights flashing from window to window. Presently came the
+      sound of a hoarse voice shouting something that, from the distance, they
+      could not understand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One-eyed Hans smote his hand upon his thigh. “Look,” said he, “here is what
+      comes of having a soft heart in one’s bosom. I overcame and bound a
+      watchman up yonder, and forced him to tell me where our young Baron lay.
+      It was on my mind to run my knife into him after he had told me every
+      thing, but then, bethinking how the young Baron hated the thought of
+      bloodshed, I said to myself, ‘No, Hans, I will spare the villain’s life.’ 
+      See now what comes of being merciful; here, by hook or by crook, the
+      fellow has loosed himself from his bonds, and brings the whole castle
+      about our ears like a nest of wasps.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “We must fly,” said the Baron; “for nothing else in the world is left me,
+      now that all have deserted me in this black time of trouble, excepting
+      these six faithful ones.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice was bitter, bitter, as he spoke; then stooping, he raised Otto
+      in his arms, and bearing him gently, began rapidly descending the rocky
+      slope to the level road that ran along the edge of the hill beneath. Close
+      behind him followed the rest; Hans still grimed with soot and in his bare
+      feet. A little distance from the road and under the shade of the forest
+      trees, seven horses stood waiting. The Baron mounted upon his great black
+      charger, seating little Otto upon the saddle in front of him. “Forward!”
+       he cried, and away they clattered and out upon the road. Then—“To
+      St. Michaelsburg,” said Baron Conrad, in his deep voice, and the horses’ 
+      heads were turned to the westward, and away they galloped through the
+      black shadows of the forest, leaving Trutz-Drachen behind them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But still the sound of the alarm bell rang through the beating of the
+      horses’ hoofs, and as Hans looked over his shoulder, he saw the light of
+      torches flashing hither and thither along the outer walls in front of the
+      great barbican.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In Castle Trutz-Drachen all was confusion and uproar: flashing torches lit
+      up the dull gray walls; horses neighed and stamped, and men shouted and
+      called to one another in the bustle of making ready. Presently Baron Henry
+      came striding along the corridor clad in light armor, which he had hastily
+      donned when roused from his sleep by the news that his prisoner had
+      escaped. Below in the courtyard his horse was standing, and without
+      waiting for assistance, he swung himself into the saddle. Then away they
+      all rode and down the steep path, armor ringing, swords clanking, and
+      iron-shod hoofs striking sparks of fire from the hard stones. At their
+      head rode Baron Henry; his triangular shield hung over his shoulder, and
+      in his hand he bore a long, heavy, steel-pointed lance with a pennant
+      flickering darkly from the end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the high-road at the base of the slope they paused, for they were at a
+      loss to know which direction the fugitives had taken; a half a score of
+      the retainers leaped from their horses, and began hurrying about hither
+      and thither, and up and down, like hounds searching for the lost scent,
+      and all the time Baron Henry sat still as a rock in the midst of the
+      confusion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly a shout was raised from the forest just beyond the road; they had
+      come upon the place where the horses had been tied. It was an easy matter
+      to trace the way that Baron Conrad and his followers had taken thence back
+      to the high-road, but there again they were at a loss. The road ran
+      straight as an arrow eastward and westward—had the fugitives taken
+      their way to the east or to the west?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Baron Henry called his head-man, Nicholas Stein, to him, and the two spoke
+      together for a while in an undertone. At last the Baron’s lieutenant
+      reined his horse back, and choosing first one and then another, divided
+      the company into two parties. The baron placed himself at the head of one
+      band and Nicholas Stein at the head of the other. “Forward!” he cried, and
+      away clattered the two companies of horsemen in opposite directions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was toward the westward that Baron Henry of Trutz-Drachen rode at the
+      head of his men.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The early springtide sun shot its rays of misty, yellow light across the
+      rolling tops of the forest trees where the little birds were singing in
+      the glory of the May morning. But Baron Henry and his followers thought
+      nothing of the beauty of the peaceful day, and heard nothing of the
+      multitudinous sound of the singing birds as, with a confused sound of
+      galloping hoofs, they swept along the highway, leaving behind them a
+      slow-curling, low-trailing cloud of dust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the sun rose more full and warm, the misty wreaths began to dissolve,
+      until at last they parted and rolled asunder like a white curtain and
+      there, before the pursuing horsemen, lay the crest of the mountain toward
+      which they were riding, and up which the road wound steeply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yonder they are,” cried a sudden voice behind Baron Henry of
+      Trutz-Drachen, and at the cry all looked upward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Far away upon the mountain-side curled a cloud of dust, from the midst of
+      which came the star-like flash of burnished armor gleaming in the sun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Baron Henry said never a word, but his lips curled in a grim smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And as the mist wreaths parted One-eyed Hans looked behind and down into
+      the leafy valley beneath. “Yonder they come,” said he. “They have followed
+      sharply to gain so much upon us, even though our horses are wearied with
+      all the travelling we have done hither and yon these five days past. How
+      far is it, Lord Baron, from here to Michaelsburg?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “About ten leagues,” said the Baron, in a gloomy voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hans puckered his mouth as though to whistle, but the Baron saw nothing of
+      it, for he was gazing straight before him with a set and stony face. Those
+      who followed him looked at one another, and the same thought was in the
+      mind of each—how long would it be before those who pursued would
+      close the distance between them?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When that happened it meant death to one and all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They reached the crest of the hill, and down they dashed upon the other
+      side; for there the road was smooth and level as it sloped away into the
+      valley, but it was in dead silence that they rode. Now and then those who
+      followed the Baron looked back over their shoulders. They had gained a
+      mile upon their pursuers when the helmeted heads rose above the crest of
+      the mountain, but what was the gain of a mile with a smooth road between
+      them, and fresh horses to weary ones?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On they rode and on they rode. The sun rose higher and higher, and hotter
+      and hotter. There was no time to rest and water their panting horses. Only
+      once, when they crossed a shallow stretch of water, the poor animals bent
+      their heads and caught a few gulps from the cool stream, and the One-eyed
+      Hans washed a part of the soot from his hands and face. On and on they
+      rode; never once did the Baron Conrad move his head or alter that
+      steadfast look as, gazing straight before him, he rode steadily forward
+      along the endless stretch of road, with poor little Otto’s yellow head and
+      white face resting against his steel-clad shoulder—and St.
+      Michaelsburg still eight leagues away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A little rise of ground lay before them, and as they climbed it, all,
+      excepting the baron, turned their heads as with one accord and looked
+      behind them. Then more than one heart failed, for through the leaves of
+      the trees below, they caught the glint of armor of those who followed—not
+      more than a mile away. The next moment they swept over the crest, and
+      there, below them, lay the broad shining river, and nearer a tributary
+      stream spanned by a rude, narrow, three-arched, stone bridge where the
+      road crossed the deep, slow-moving water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Down the slope plodded the weary horses, and so to the bridge-head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Halt,” cried the baron suddenly, and drew rein.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The others stood bewildered. What did he mean to do? He turned to Hans and
+      his blue eyes shone like steel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Hans,” said he, in his deep voice, “thou hast served me long and truly;
+      wilt thou for this one last time do my bidding?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Aye,” said Hans, briefly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Swear it,” said the Baron.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I swear it,” said Hans, and he drew the sign of the cross upon his heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “That is good,” said the Baron, grimly. “Then take thou this child, and
+      with the others ride with all the speed that thou canst to St.
+      Michaelsburg. Give the child into the charge of the Abbot Otto. Tell him
+      how that I have sworn fealty to the Emperor, and what I have gained
+      thereby—my castle burnt, my people slain, and this poor, simple
+      child, my only son, mutilated by my enemy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “And thou, my Lord Baron?” said Hans.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I will stay here,” said the Baron, quietly, “and keep back those who
+      follow as long as God will give me grace so to do.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A murmur of remonstrance rose among the faithful few who were with him,
+      two of whom were near of kin. But Conrad of Drachenhausen turned fiercely
+      upon them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “How now,” said he, “have I fallen so low in my troubles that even ye dare
+      to raise your voices against me? By the good Heaven, I will begin my work
+      here by slaying the first man who dares to raise word against my bidding.”
+       Then he turned from them. “Here, Hans,” said he, “take the boy; and
+      remember, knave, what thou hast sworn.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He pressed Otto close to his breast in one last embrace. “My little
+      child,” he murmured, “try not to hate thy father when thou thinkest of him
+      hereafter, even though he be hard and bloody as thou knowest.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But with his suffering and weakness, little Otto knew nothing of what was
+      passing; it was only as in a faint flickering dream that he lived in what
+      was done around him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Farewell, Otto,” said the Baron, but Otto’s lips only moved faintly in
+      answer. His father kissed him upon either cheek. “Come, Hans,” said he,
+      hastily, “take him hence;” and he loosed Otto’s arms from about his neck.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hans took Otto upon the saddle in front of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh! my dear Lord Baron,” said he, and then stopped with a gulp, and
+      turned his grotesquely twitching face aside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Go,” said the Baron, harshly, “there is no time to lose in woman’s
+      tears.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Farewell, Conrad! farewell, Conrad!” said his two kinsmen, and coming
+      forward they kissed him upon the cheek then they turned and rode away
+      after Hans, and Baron Conrad was left alone to face his mortal foe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XIII. How Baron Conrad Held the Bridge.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      As the last of his followers swept around the curving road and was lost to
+      sight, Baron Conrad gave himself a shake, as though to drive away the
+      thoughts that lay upon him. Then he rode slowly forward to the middle of
+      the bridge, where he wheeled his horse so as to face his coming enemies.
+      He lowered the vizor of his helmet and bolted it to its place, and then
+      saw that sword and dagger were loose in the scabbard and easy to draw when
+      the need for drawing should arise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Down the steep path from the hill above swept the pursuing horsemen. Down
+      the steep path to the bridge-head and there drew rein; for in the middle
+      of the narrow way sat the motionless, steel-clad figure upon the great
+      war-horse, with wide, red, panting nostrils, and body streaked with sweat
+      and flecked with patches of foam.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One side of the roadway of the bridge was guarded by a low stone wall; the
+      other side was naked and open and bare to the deep, slow-moving water
+      beneath. It was a dangerous place to attack a desperate man clad in armor
+      of proof.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Forward!” cried Baron Henry, but not a soul stirred in answer, and still
+      the iron-clad figure sat motionless and erect upon the panting horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “How,” cried the Baron Henry, “are ye afraid of one man? Then follow me!”
+       and he spurred forward to the bridge-head. But still no one moved in
+      answer, and the Lord of Trutz-Drachen reined back his horse again. He
+      wheeled his horse and glared round upon the stolid faces of his followers,
+      until his eyes seemed fairly to blaze with passion beneath the bars of his
+      vizor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Baron Conrad gave a roar of laughter. “How now,” he cried; “are ye all
+      afraid of one man? Is there none among ye that dares come forward and meet
+      me? I know thee, Baron Henry! thou art not afraid to cut off the hand of a
+      little child. Hast thou not now the courage to face the father?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Baron Henry gnashed his teeth with rage as he glared around upon the faces
+      of his men-at-arms. Suddenly his eye lit upon one of them. “Ha! Carl
+      Spigler,” he cried, “thou hast thy cross-bow with thee;—shoot me
+      down yonder dog! Nay,” he said, “thou canst do him no harm under his
+      armor; shoot the horse upon which he sits.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Baron Conrad heard the speech. “Oh! thou coward villain!” he cried, “stay;
+      do not shoot the good horse. I will dismount and fight ye upon foot.”
+       Thereupon, armed as he was, he leaped clashing from his horse and turning
+      the animal’s head, gave it a slap upon the flank. The good horse first
+      trotted and then walked to the further end of the bridge, where it stopped
+      and began cropping at the grass that grew beside the road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Now then!” cried Baron Henry, fiercely, “now then, ye cannot fear him,
+      villains! Down with him! forward!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Slowly the troopers spurred their horses forward upon the bridge and
+      toward that one figure that, grasping tightly the great two-handed sword,
+      stood there alone guarding the passage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Baron Conrad whirled the great blade above his head, until it caught
+      the sunlight and flashed again. He did not wait for the attack, but when
+      the first of the advancing horsemen had come within a few feet of him, he
+      leaped with a shout upon them. The fellow thrust at him with his lance,
+      and the Baron went staggering a few feet back, but instantly he recovered
+      himself and again leaped forward. The great sword flashed in the air,
+      whistling; it fell, and the nearest man dropped his lance, clattering, and
+      with a loud, inarticulate cry, grasped the mane of his horse with both
+      hands. Again the blade whistled in the air, and this time it was stained
+      with red. Again it fell, and with another shrill cry the man toppled
+      headlong beneath the horse’s feet. The next instant they were upon him,
+      each striving to strike at the one figure, to ride him down, or to thrust
+      him down with their lances. There was no room now to swing the long blade,
+      but holding the hilt in both hands, Baron Conrad thrust with it as though
+      it were a lance, stabbing at horse or man, it mattered not. Crowded upon
+      the narrow roadway of the bridge, those who attacked had not only to guard
+      themselves against the dreadful strokes of that terrible sword, but to
+      keep their wounded horses (rearing and mad with fright) from toppling
+      bodily over with them into the water beneath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the cry was raised, “Back! back!” And those nearest the Baron
+      began reining in their horses. “Forward!” roared Baron Henry, from the
+      midst of the crowd; but in spite of his command, and even the blows that
+      he gave, those behind were borne back by those in front, struggling and
+      shouting, and the bridge was cleared again excepting for three figures
+      that lay motionless upon the roadway, and that one who, with the
+      brightness of his armor dimmed and stained, leaned panting against the
+      wall of the bridge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Baron Henry raged like a madman. Gnashing his teeth together, he rode
+      back a little way; then turning and couching his lance, he suddenly
+      clapped spurs to his horse, and the next instant came thundering down upon
+      his solitary enemy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Baron Conrad whirled his sword in the air, as he saw the other coming like
+      a thunderbolt upon him; he leaped aside, and the lance passed close to
+      him. As it passed he struck, and the iron point flew from the shaft of the
+      spear at the blow, and fell clattering upon the stone roadway of the
+      bridge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Baron Henry drew in his horse until it rested upon its haunches, then
+      slowly reined it backward down the bridge, still facing his foe, and still
+      holding the wooden stump of the lance in his hand. At the bridge-head he
+      flung it from him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Another lance!” he cried, hoarsely. One was silently reached to him and
+      he took it, his hand trembling with rage. Again he rode to a little
+      distance and wheeled his horse; then, driving his steel spurs into its
+      quivering side, he came again thundering down upon the other. Once more
+      the terrible sword whirled in the air and fell, but this time the lance
+      was snatched to one side and the blow fell harmlessly. The next instant,
+      and with a twitch of the bridle-rein, the horse struck full and fair
+      against the man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Conrad of Drachenhausen was whirled backward and downward, and the cruel
+      iron hoofs crashed over his prostrate body, as horse and man passed with a
+      rush beyond him and to the bridge-head beyond. A shout went up from those
+      who stood watching. The next moment the prostrate figure rose and
+      staggered blindly to the side of the bridge, and stood leaning against the
+      stone wall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the further end of the bridge Baron Henry had wheeled his horse. Once
+      again he couched lance, and again he drove down upon his bruised and
+      wounded enemy. This time the lance struck full and fair, and those who
+      watched saw the steel point pierce the iron breast-plate and then snap
+      short, leaving the barbed point within the wound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Baron Conrad sunk to his knees and the Roderburg, looming upon his horse
+      above him, unsheathed his sword to finish the work he had begun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then those who stood looking on saw a wondrous thing happen: the wounded
+      man rose suddenly to his feet, and before his enemy could strike he
+      leaped, with a great and bitter cry of agony and despair, upon him as he
+      sat in the saddle above.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Henry of Trutz-Drachen grasped at his horse’s mane, but the attack was so
+      fierce, so sudden, and so unexpected that before he could save himself he
+      was dragged to one side and fell crashing in his armor upon the stone
+      roadway of the bridge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “The dragon! the dragon!” roared Baron Conrad, in a voice of thunder, and
+      with the energy of despair he dragged his prostrate foe toward the open
+      side of the bridge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Forward!” cried the chief of the Trutz-Drachen men, and down they rode
+      upon the struggling knights to the rescue of their master in this new
+      danger. But they were too late.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a pause at the edge of the bridge, for Baron Henry had gained
+      his feet and, stunned and bewildered as he was by the suddenness of his
+      fall, he was now struggling fiercely, desperately. For a moment they stood
+      swaying backward and forward, clasped in one another’s arms, the blood
+      from the wounded man’s breast staining the armor of both. The moment
+      passed and then, with a shower of stones and mortar from beneath their
+      iron-shod heels, they toppled and fell; there was a thunderous splash in
+      the water below, and as the men-at-arms came hurrying up and peered with
+      awe-struck faces over the parapet of the bridge, they saw the whirling
+      eddies sweep down with the current of the stream, a few bubbles rise to
+      the surface of the water, and then—nothing; for the smooth river
+      flowed onward as silently as ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently a loud voice burst through the awed hush that followed. It came
+      from William of Roderburg, Baron Henry’s kinsman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Forward!” he cried. A murmur of voices from the others was all the answer
+      that he received. “Forward!” cried the young man again, “the boy and those
+      with him are not so far away but that we might yet catch up with them.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then one of the men spoke up in answer—a man with a seamed,
+      weather-beaten face and crisp grizzled hair. “Nay,” said he, “our Lord
+      Baron is gone, and this is no quarrel of ours; here be four of us that are
+      wounded and three I misdoubt that are dead; why should we follow further
+      only to suffer more blows for no gain?” A growl of assent rose from those
+      that stood around, and William of Roderburg saw that nothing more was to
+      be done by the Trutz-Dragons that day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XIV. How Otto Saw the Great Emperor.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Through weakness and sickness and faintness, Otto had lain in a half swoon
+      through all that long journey under the hot May sun. It was as in a
+      dreadful nightmare that he had heard on and on and on that monotonous
+      throbbing of galloping hoofs upon the ground; had felt that last kiss that
+      his father had given him upon his cheek. Then the onward ride again, until
+      all faded away into a dull mist and he knew no more. When next he woke it
+      was with the pungent smell of burned vinegar in his nostrils and with the
+      feeling of a cool napkin bathing his brow. He opened his eyes and then
+      closed them again, thinking he must have been in a dream, for he lay in
+      his old room at the peaceful monastery of the White Cross on the hill; the
+      good Father Abbot sat near by, gazing upon his face with the old absent
+      student look, Brother John sat in the deep window seat also gazing at him,
+      and Brother Theodore, the leech of the monastery, sat beside him bathing
+      his head. Beside these old familiar faces were the faces of those who had
+      been with him in that long flight; the One-eyed Hans, old Master Nicholas
+      his kinsman, and the others. So he closed his eyes, thinking that maybe it
+      was all a dream. But the sharp throbbing of the poor stump at his wrist
+      soon taught him that he was still awake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Am I then really home in St. Michaelsburg again?” he murmured, without
+      unclosing his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Brother Theodore began snuffling through his nose; there was a pause.
+      “Yes,” said the old Abbot at last, and his gentle voice trembled as he
+      spoke; “yes, my dear little child, thou art back again in thine own home;
+      thou hast not been long out in the great world, but truly thou hast had a
+      sharp and bitter trial of it.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “But they will not take me away again, will they?” said Otto quickly,
+      unclosing his blue eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nay,” said the Abbot, gently; “not until thou art healed in body and art
+      ready and willing to go.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Three months and more had passed, and Otto was well again; and now,
+      escorted by One-eyed Hans and those faithful few who had clung to the
+      Baron Conrad through his last few bitter days, he was riding into the
+      quaint old town of Nurnburg; for the Emperor Rudolph was there at that
+      time, waiting for King Ottocar of Bohemia to come thither and answer the
+      imperial summons before the Council, and Otto was travelling to the court.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As they rode in through the gates of the town, Otto looked up at the
+      high-peaked houses with their overhanging gables, the like of which he had
+      never seen before, and he stared with his round blue eyes at seeing them
+      so crowded together along the length of the street. But most of all he
+      wondered at the number of people that passed hither and thither, jostling
+      each other in their hurry, and at the tradesmen’s booths opening upon the
+      street with the wonderful wares hanging within; armor at the smiths,
+      glittering ornaments at the goldsmiths, and rich fabrics of silks and
+      satins at the mercers. He had never seen anything so rich and grand in all
+      of his life, for little Otto had never been in a town before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh! look,” he cried, “at that wonderful lady; see, holy father! sure the
+      Emperor’s wife can be no finer than that lady.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Abbot smiled. “Nay, Otto,” said he, “that is but a burgher’s wife or
+      daughter; the ladies at the Emperor’s court are far grander than such as
+      she.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “So!” said Otto, and then fell silent with wonder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now, at last the great moment had come when little Otto with his own
+      eyes was to behold the mighty Emperor who ruled over all the powerful
+      kingdoms of Germany and Austria, and Italy and Bohemia, and other kingdoms
+      and principalities and states. His heart beat so that he could hardly
+      speak as, for a moment, the good Abbot who held him by the hand stopped
+      outside of the arrased doorway to whisper some last instructions into his
+      ear. Then they entered the apartment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a long, stone-paved room. The floor was covered with rich rugs and
+      the walls were hung with woven tapestry wherein were depicted knights and
+      ladies in leafy gardens and kings and warriors at battle. A long row of
+      high glazed windows extended along the length of the apartment, flooding
+      it with the mellow light of the autumn day. At the further end of the
+      room, far away, and standing by a great carved chimney place wherein
+      smouldered the remains of a fire, stood a group of nobles in gorgeous
+      dress of velvet and silks, and with glittering golden chains hung about
+      their necks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One figure stood alone in front of the great yawning fireplace. His hands
+      were clasped behind him, and his look bent thoughtfully upon the floor. He
+      was dressed only in a simple gray robe without ornament or adornment, a
+      plain leathern belt girded his waist, and from it hung a sword with a bone
+      hilt encased in a brown leathern scabbard. A noble stag-hound lay close
+      behind him, curled up upon the floor, basking in the grateful warmth of
+      the fire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the Father Abbot and Otto drew near he raised his head and looked at
+      them. It was a plain, homely face that Otto saw, with a wrinkled forehead
+      and a long mouth drawn down at the corners. It was the face of a good,
+      honest burgher burdened with the cares of a prosperous trade. “Who can he
+      be,” thought Otto, “and why does the poor man stand there among all the
+      great nobles?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the Abbot walked straight up to him and kneeled upon the floor, and
+      little Otto, full of wonder, did the same. It was the great Emperor
+      Rudolph.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Who have we here,” said the Emperor, and he bent his brow upon the Abbot
+      and the boy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Sire,” said Abbot Otto, “we have humbly besought you by petition, in the
+      name of your late vassal, Baron Conrad of Vuelph of Drachenhausen, for
+      justice to this his son, the Baron Otto, whom, sire, as you may see, hath
+      been cruelly mutilated at the hands of Baron Henry of Roderburg of
+      Trutz-Drachen. He hath moreover been despoiled of his lands, his castle
+      burnt, and his household made prisoner.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Emperor frowned until the shaggy eyebrows nearly hid the keen gray
+      twinkle of the eyes beneath. “Yes,” said he, “I do remember me of that
+      petition, and have given it consideration both in private and in council.”
+       He turned to the group of listening nobles. “Look,” said he, “at this
+      little child marred by the inhumanity and the cruelty of those robber
+      villains. By heavens! I will put down their lawless rapine, if I have to
+      give every castle from the north to the south to the flames and to the
+      sword.” Then turning to Otto again, “Poor little child,” said he, “thy
+      wrongs shall be righted, and so far as they are able, those cruel
+      Roderburgs shall pay thee penny for penny, and grain for grain, for what
+      thou hast lost; and until such indemnity hath been paid the family of the
+      man who wrought this deed shall be held as surety.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Little Otto looked up in the kind, rugged face above him. “Nay, Lord
+      Emperor,” said he, in his quaint, quiet way, “there are but two in the
+      family—the mother and the daughter—and I have promised to
+      marry the little girl when she and I are old enough; so, if you please, I
+      would not have harm happen to her.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Emperor continued to look down at the kneeling boy, and at last he
+      gave a short, dry laugh. “So be it,” said he, “thy plan is not without its
+      wisdom. Mayhap it is all for the best that the affair should be ended thus
+      peacefully. The estates of the Roderburgs shall be held in trust for thee
+      until thou art come of age; otherwise it shall be as thou hast proposed,
+      the little maiden shall be taken into ward under our own care. And as to
+      thee—art thou willing that I should take thee under my own charge in
+      the room of thy father, who is dead?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Aye,” said Otto, simply, “I am willing, for it seems to me that thou art
+      a good man.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The nobles who stood near smiled at the boy’s speech. As for the Emperor,
+      he laughed outright. “I give thee thanks, my Lord Baron,” said he; “there
+      is no one in all my court who has paid me greater courtesy than that.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So comes the end of our tale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But perhaps you may like to know what happened afterward, for no one cares
+      to leave the thread of a story without tying a knot in it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Eight years had passed, and Otto grew up to manhood in the Emperor’s
+      court, and was with him through war and peace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But he himself never drew sword or struck a blow, for the right hand that
+      hung at his side was of pure silver, and the hard, cold fingers never
+      closed. Folks called him “Otto of the Silver Hand,” but perhaps there was
+      another reason than that for the name that had been given him, for the
+      pure, simple wisdom that the old monks of the White Cross on the hill had
+      taught him, clung to him through all the honors that the Emperor bestowed
+      upon his favorite, and as he grew older his words were listened to and
+      weighed by those who were high in Council, and even by the Emperor
+      himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now for the end of all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day Otto stood uncertainly at the doorway of a room in the imperial
+      castle, hesitating before he entered; and yet there was nothing so very
+      dreadful within, only one poor girl whose heart fluttered more than his.
+      Poor little Pauline, whom he had not seen since that last day in the black
+      cell at Trutz-Drachen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last he pushed aside the hangings and entered the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was sitting upon a rude bench beside the window, looking at him out of
+      her great, dark eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped short and stood for a moment confused and silent; for he had no
+      thought in his mind but of the little girl whom he had last seen, and for
+      a moment he stood confused before the fair maiden with her great,
+      beautiful dark eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She on her part beheld a tall, slender youth with curling, golden hair,
+      one hand white and delicate, the other of pure and shining silver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He came to her and took her hand and set it to his lips, and all that she
+      could do was to gaze with her great, dark eyes upon the hero of whom she
+      had heard so many talk; the favorite of the Emperor; the wise young Otto
+      of the Silver Hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Afterword
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The ruins of Drachenhausen were rebuilt, for the walls were as sound as
+      ever, though empty and gaping to the sky; but it was no longer the den of
+      a robber baron for beneath the scutcheon over the great gate was carved a
+      new motto of the Vuelphs; a motto which the Emperor Rudolph himself had
+      given:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Manus argentea quam manus ferrea melior est.”
+     </p>
+
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OTTO OF THE SILVER HAND ***</div>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Otto of the Silver Hand, by Howard Pyle
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+Title: Otto of the Silver Hand
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+Author: Howard Pyle
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+Posting Date: December 27, 2008 [EBook #2865]
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+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OTTO OF THE SILVER HAND ***
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+Produced by Angus Christian
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+OTTO OF THE SILVER HAND
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+By Howard Pyle
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+     I.    The Dragon's House,
+     II.   How the Baron Went Forth to Shear,
+     III.  How the Baron Came Home Shorn,
+     IV.   The White Cross on the Hill,
+     V.    How Otto Dwelt at St. Michaelsburg,
+     VI.   How Otto Lived in the Dragon's House,
+     VII.  The Red Cock Crows on Drachenhausen,
+     VIII. In the House of the Dragon Scorner,
+     IX.   How One-eyed Hans Came to Trutz-Drachen,
+     X.    How Hans Brought Terror to the Kitchen,
+     XI.   How Otto was Saved,
+     XII.  A Ride for Life,
+     XIII. How Baron Conrad Held the Bridge,
+     XIV.  How Otto Saw the Great Emperor,
+
+
+
+
+FOREWORD.
+
+Between the far away past history of the world, and that which lies near
+to us; in the time when the wisdom of the ancient times was dead and
+had passed away, and our own days of light had not yet come, there lay a
+great black gulf in human history, a gulf of ignorance, of superstition,
+of cruelty, and of wickedness.
+
+That time we call the dark or middle ages.
+
+Few records remain to us of that dreadful period in our world's history,
+and we only know of it through broken and disjointed fragments that have
+been handed down to us through the generations.
+
+Yet, though the world's life then was so wicked and black, there yet
+remained a few good men and women here and there (mostly in peaceful
+and quiet monasteries, far from the thunder and the glare of the worlds
+bloody battle), who knew the right and the truth and lived according to
+what they knew; who preserved and tenderly cared for the truths that the
+dear Christ taught, and lived and died for in Palestine so long ago.
+
+This tale that I am about to tell is of a little boy who lived and
+suffered in those dark middle ages; of how he saw both the good and the
+bad of men, and of how, by gentleness and love and not by strife and
+hatred, he came at last to stand above other men and to be looked up to
+by all. And should you follow the story to the end, I hope you may find
+it a pleasure, as I have done, to ramble through those dark ancient
+castles, to lie with little Otto and Brother John in the high
+belfry-tower, or to sit with them in the peaceful quiet of the sunny
+old monastery garden, for, of all the story, I love best those early
+peaceful years that little Otto spent in the dear old White Cross on the
+Hill.
+
+Poor little Otto's life was a stony and a thorny pathway, and it is well
+for all of us nowadays that we walk it in fancy and not in truth.
+
+
+
+
+I. The Dragon's House.
+
+Up from the gray rocks, rising sheer and bold and bare, stood the walls
+and towers of Castle Drachenhausen. A great gate-way, with a heavy
+iron-pointed portcullis hanging suspended in the dim arch above, yawned
+blackly upon the bascule or falling drawbridge that spanned a chasm
+between the blank stone walls and the roadway that winding down the
+steep rocky slope to the little valley just beneath. There in the lap of
+the hills around stood the wretched straw-thatched huts of the peasants
+belonging to the castle--miserable serfs who, half timid, half fierce,
+tilled their poor patches of ground, wrenching from the hard soil barely
+enough to keep body and soul together. Among those vile hovels played
+the little children like foxes about their dens, their wild, fierce eyes
+peering out from under a mat of tangled yellow hair.
+
+Beyond these squalid huts lay the rushing, foaming river, spanned by a
+high, rude, stone bridge where the road from the castle crossed it, and
+beyond the river stretched the great, black forest, within whose gloomy
+depths the savage wild beasts made their lair, and where in winter time
+the howling wolves coursed their flying prey across the moonlit snow and
+under the net-work of the black shadows from the naked boughs above.
+
+The watchman in the cold, windy bartizan or watch-tower that clung to
+the gray walls above the castle gateway, looked from his narrow window,
+where the wind piped and hummed, across the tree-tops that rolled in
+endless billows of green, over hill and over valley to the blue and
+distant slope of the Keiserberg, where, on the mountain side, glimmered
+far away the walls of Castle Trutz-Drachen.
+
+Within the massive stone walls through which the gaping gateway led,
+three great cheerless brick buildings, so forbidding that even the
+yellow sunlight could not light them into brightness, looked down, with
+row upon row of windows, upon three sides of the bleak, stone courtyard.
+Back of and above them clustered a jumble of other buildings, tower and
+turret, one high-peaked roof overtopping another.
+
+The great house in the centre was the Baron's Hall, the part to the left
+was called the Roderhausen; between the two stood a huge square pile,
+rising dizzily up into the clear air high above the rest--the great
+Melchior Tower.
+
+At the top clustered a jumble of buildings hanging high aloft in the
+windy space a crooked wooden belfry, a tall, narrow watch-tower, and a
+rude wooden house that clung partly to the roof of the great tower and
+partly to the walls.
+
+From the chimney of this crazy hut a thin thread of smoke would now and
+then rise into the air, for there were folk living far up in that empty,
+airy desert, and oftentimes wild, uncouth little children were seen
+playing on the edge of the dizzy height, or sitting with their bare
+legs hanging down over the sheer depths, as they gazed below at what was
+going on in the court-yard. There they sat, just as little children in
+the town might sit upon their father's door-step; and as the sparrows
+might fly around the feet of the little town children, so the circling
+flocks of rooks and daws flew around the feet of these air-born
+creatures.
+
+It was Schwartz Carl and his wife and little ones who lived far up there
+in the Melchior Tower, for it overlooked the top of the hill behind the
+castle and so down into the valley upon the further side. There, day
+after day, Schwartz Carl kept watch upon the gray road that ran like a
+ribbon through the valley, from the rich town of Gruenstaldt to the rich
+town of Staffenburgen, where passed merchant caravans from the one to
+the other--for the lord of Drachenhausen was a robber baron.
+
+Dong! Dong! The great alarm bell would suddenly ring out from the belfry
+high up upon the Melchior Tower. Dong! Dong! Till the rooks and daws
+whirled clamoring and screaming. Dong! Dong! Till the fierce wolf-hounds
+in the rocky kennels behind the castle stables howled dismally in
+answer. Dong! Dong!--Dong! Dong!
+
+Then would follow a great noise and uproar and hurry in the castle
+court-yard below; men shouting and calling to one another, the ringing
+of armor, and the clatter of horses' hoofs upon the hard stone. With the
+creaking and groaning of the windlass the iron-pointed portcullis would
+be slowly raised, and with a clank and rattle and clash of iron chains
+the drawbridge would fall crashing. Then over it would thunder horse and
+man, clattering away down the winding, stony pathway, until the great
+forest would swallow them, and they would be gone.
+
+Then for a while peace would fall upon the castle courtyard, the cock
+would crow, the cook would scold a lazy maid, and Gretchen, leaning out
+of a window, would sing a snatch of a song, just as though it were a
+peaceful farm-house, instead of a den of robbers.
+
+Maybe it would be evening before the men would return once more. Perhaps
+one would have a bloody cloth bound about his head, perhaps one would
+carry his arm in a sling; perhaps one--maybe more than one--would be
+left behind, never to return again, and soon forgotten by all excepting
+some poor woman who would weep silently in the loneliness of her daily
+work.
+
+Nearly always the adventurers would bring back with them pack-horses
+laden with bales of goods. Sometimes, besides these, they would return
+with a poor soul, his hands tied behind his back and his feet beneath
+the horse's body, his fur cloak and his flat cap wofully awry. A while
+he would disappear in some gloomy cell of the dungeon-keep, until an
+envoy would come from the town with a fat purse, when his ransom would
+be paid, the dungeon would disgorge him, and he would be allowed to go
+upon his way again.
+
+One man always rode beside Baron Conrad in his expeditions and
+adventures a short, deep-chested, broad-shouldered man, with sinewy arms
+so long that when he stood his hands hung nearly to his knees.
+
+His coarse, close-clipped hair came so low upon his brow that only a
+strip of forehead showed between it and his bushy, black eyebrows. One
+eye was blind; the other twinkled and gleamed like a spark under the
+penthouse of his brows. Many folk said that the one-eyed Hans had drunk
+beer with the Hill-man, who had given him the strength of ten, for he
+could bend an iron spit like a hazel twig, and could lift a barrel of
+wine from the floor to his head as easily as though it were a basket of
+eggs.
+
+As for the one-eyed Hans he never said that he had not drunk beer with
+the Hill-man, for he liked the credit that such reports gave him with
+the other folk. And so, like a half savage mastiff, faithful to death
+to his master, but to him alone, he went his sullen way and lived his
+sullen life within the castle walls, half respected, half feared by the
+other inmates, for it was dangerous trifling with the one-eyed Hans.
+
+
+
+
+II. How the Baron went Forth to Shear.
+
+Baron Conrad and Baroness Matilda sat together at their morning meal
+below their raised seats stretched the long, heavy wooden table, loaded
+with coarse food--black bread, boiled cabbage, bacon, eggs, a great
+chine from a wild boar, sausages, such as we eat nowadays, and flagons
+and jars of beer and wine, Along the board sat ranged in the order of
+the household the followers and retainers. Four or five slatternly women
+and girls served the others as they fed noisily at the table, moving
+here and there behind the men with wooden or pewter dishes of food, now
+and then laughing at the jests that passed or joining in the talk. A
+huge fire blazed and crackled and roared in the great open fireplace,
+before which were stretched two fierce, shaggy, wolfish-looking hounds.
+Outside, the rain beat upon the roof or ran trickling from the eaves,
+and every now and then a chill draught of wind would breathe through the
+open windows of the great black dining-hall and set the fire roaring.
+
+Along the dull-gray wall of stone hung pieces of armor, and swords and
+lances, and great branching antlers of the stag. Overhead arched the
+rude, heavy, oaken beams, blackened with age and smoke, and underfoot
+was a chill pavement of stone.
+
+Upon Baron Conrad's shoulder leaned the pale, slender, yellow-haired
+Baroness, the only one in all the world with whom the fierce lord of
+Drachenhausen softened to gentleness, the only one upon whom his savage
+brows looked kindly, and to whom his harsh voice softened with love.
+
+The Baroness was talking to her husband in a low voice, as he looked
+down into her pale face, with its gentle blue eyes.
+
+"And wilt thou not, then," said she, "do that one thing for me?"
+
+"Nay," he growled, in his deep voice, "I cannot promise thee never more
+to attack the towns-people in the valley over yonder. How else could I
+live an' I did not take from the fat town hogs to fill our own larder?"
+
+"Nay," said the Baroness, "thou couldst live as some others do, for all
+do not rob the burgher folk as thou dost. Alas! mishap will come upon
+thee some day, and if thou shouldst be slain, what then would come of
+me?"
+
+"Prut," said the Baron, "thy foolish fears" But he laid his rough, hairy
+hand softly upon the Baroness' head and stroked her yellow hair.
+
+"For my sake, Conrad," whispered the Baroness.
+
+A pause followed. The Baron sat looking thoughtfully down into the
+Baroness' face. A moment more, and he might have promised what she
+besought; a moment more, and he might have been saved all the bitter
+trouble that was to follow. But it was not to be.
+
+Suddenly a harsh sound broke the quietness of all into a confusion of
+noises. Dong! Dong!--it was the great alarm-bell from Melchior's Tower.
+
+The Baron started at the sound. He sat for a moment or two with his hand
+clinched upon the arm of his seat as though about to rise, then he sunk
+back into his chair again.
+
+All the others had risen tumultuously from the table, and now stood
+looking at him, awaiting his orders.
+
+"For my sake, Conrad," said the Baroness again.
+
+Dong! Dong! rang the alarm-bell. The Baron sat with his eyes bent upon
+the floor, scowling blackly.
+
+The Baroness took his hand in both of hers. "For my sake," she pleaded,
+and the tears filled her blue eyes as she looked up at him, "do not go
+this time."
+
+From the courtyard without came the sound of horses' hoofs clashing
+against the stone pavement, and those in the hall stood watching and
+wondering at this strange delay of the Lord Baron. Just then the door
+opened and one came pushing past the rest; it was the one-eyed Hans.
+He came straight to where the Baron sat, and, leaning over, whispered
+something into his master's ear.
+
+"For my sake," implored the Baroness again; but the scale was turned.
+The Baron pushed back his chair heavily and rose to his feet. "Forward!"
+he roared, in a voice of thunder, and a great shout went up in answer as
+he strode clanking down the hall and out of the open door.
+
+The Baroness covered her face with her hands and wept.
+
+"Never mind, little bird," said old Ursela, the nurse, soothingly; "he
+will come back to thee again as he has come back to thee before."
+
+But the poor young Baroness continued weeping with her face buried in
+her hands, because he had not done that thing she had asked.
+
+A white young face framed in yellow hair looked out into the courtyard
+from a window above; but if Baron Conrad of Drachenhausen saw it from
+beneath the bars of his shining helmet, he made no sign.
+
+"Forward," he cried again.
+
+Down thundered the drawbridge, and away they rode with clashing hoofs
+and ringing armor through the gray shroud of drilling rain.
+
+The day had passed and the evening had come, and the Baroness and her
+women sat beside a roaring fire. All were chattering and talking and
+laughing but two--the fair young Baroness and old Ursela; the one sat
+listening, listening, listening, the other sat with her chin resting in
+the palm of her hand, silently watching her young mistress. The night
+was falling gray and chill, when suddenly the clear notes of a bugle
+rang from without the castle walls. The young Baroness started, and the
+rosy light flashed up into her pale cheeks.
+
+"Yes, good," said old Ursela; "the red fox has come back to his den
+again, and I warrant he brings a fat town goose in his mouth; now we'll
+have fine clothes to wear, and thou another gold chain to hang about thy
+pretty neck."
+
+The young Baroness laughed merrily at the old woman's speech. "This
+time," said she, "I will choose a string of pearls like that one my aunt
+used to wear, and which I had about my neck when Conrad first saw me."
+
+Minute after minute passed; the Baroness sat nervously playing with a
+bracelet of golden beads about her wrist. "How long he stays," said she.
+
+"Yes," said Ursela; "but it is not cousin wish that holds him by the
+coat."
+
+As she spoke, a door banged in the passageway without, and the ring of
+iron footsteps sounded upon the stone floor. Clank! Clank! Clank!
+
+The Baroness rose to her feet, her face all alight. The door opened;
+then the flush of joy faded away and the face grew white, white, white.
+One hand clutched the back of the bench whereon she had been sitting,
+the other hand pressed tightly against her side.
+
+It was Hans the one-eyed who stood in the doorway, and black trouble sat
+on his brow; all were looking at him waiting.
+
+"Conrad," whispered the Baroness, at last. "Where is Conrad? Where is
+your master?" and even her lips were white as she spoke.
+
+The one-eyed Hans said nothing.
+
+Just then came the noise of men s voices in the corridor and the shuffle
+and scuffle of feet carrying a heavy load. Nearer and nearer they came,
+and one-eyed Hans stood aside. Six men came struggling through the
+doorway, carrying a litter, and on the litter lay the great Baron
+Conrad. The flaming torch thrust into the iron bracket against the wall
+flashed up with the draught of air from the open door, and the light
+fell upon the white face and the closed eyes, and showed upon his body
+armor a great red stain that was not the stain of rust.
+
+Suddenly Ursela cried out in a sharp, shrill voice, "Catch her, she
+falls!"
+
+It was the Baroness.
+
+Then the old crone turned fiercely upon the one-eyed Hans. "Thou fool!"
+she cried, "why didst thou bring him here? Thou hast killed thy lady!"
+
+"I did not know," said the one-eyed Hans, stupidly.
+
+
+
+
+III. How the Baron came Home Shorn.
+
+But Baron Conrad was not dead. For days he lay upon his hard bed, now
+muttering incoherent words beneath his red beard, now raving fiercely
+with the fever of his wound. But one day he woke again to the things
+about him.
+
+He turned his head first to the one side and then to the other; there
+sat Schwartz Carl and the one-eyed Hans. Two or three other retainers
+stood by a great window that looked out into the courtyard beneath,
+jesting and laughing together in low tones, and one lay upon the heavy
+oaken bench that stood along by the wall snoring in his sleep.
+
+"Where is your lady?" said the Baron, presently; "and why is she not
+with me at this time?"
+
+The man that lay upon the bench started up at the sound of his voice,
+and those at the window came hurrying to his bedside. But Schwartz Carl
+and the one-eyed Hans looked at one another, and neither of them spoke.
+The Baron saw the look and in it read a certain meaning that brought
+him to his elbow, though only to sink back upon his pillow again with a
+groan.
+
+"Why do you not answer me?" said he at last, in a hollow voice; then
+to the one-eyed Hans, "Hast no tongue, fool, that thou standest gaping
+there like a fish? Answer me, where is thy mistress?"
+
+"I--I do not know," stammered poor Hans.
+
+For a while the Baron lay silently looking from one face to the other,
+then he spoke again. "How long have I been lying here?" said he.
+
+"A sennight, my lord," said Master Rudolph, the steward, who had come
+into the room and who now stood among the others at the bedside.
+
+"A sennight," repeated the Baron, in a low voice, and then to Master
+Rudolph, "And has the Baroness been often beside me in that time?"
+Master Rudolph hesitated. "Answer me," said the Baron, harshly.
+
+"Not--not often," said Master Rudolph, hesitatingly.
+
+The Baron lay silent for a long time. At last he passed his hands over
+his face and held them there for a minute, then of a sudden, before
+anyone knew what he was about to do, he rose upon his elbow and then sat
+upright upon the bed. The green wound broke out afresh and a dark red
+spot grew and spread upon the linen wrappings; his face was drawn and
+haggard with the pain of his moving, and his eyes wild and bloodshot.
+Great drops of sweat gathered and stood upon his forehead as he sat
+there swaying slightly from side to side.
+
+"My shoes," said he, hoarsely.
+
+Master Rudolph stepped forward. "But, my Lord Baron," he began and then
+stopped short, for the Baron shot him such a look that his tongue stood
+still in his head.
+
+Hans saw that look out of his one eye. Down he dropped upon his knees
+and, fumbling under the bed, brought forth a pair of soft leathern
+shoes, which he slipped upon the Baron's feet and then laced the thongs
+above the instep.
+
+"Your shoulder," said the Baron. He rose slowly to his feet, gripping
+Hans in the stress of his agony until the fellow winced again. For a
+moment he stood as though gathering strength, then doggedly started
+forth upon that quest which he had set upon himself.
+
+At the door he stopped for a moment as though overcome by his weakness,
+and there Master Nicholas, his cousin, met him; for the steward had sent
+one of the retainers to tell the old man what the Baron was about to do.
+
+"Thou must go back again, Conrad," said Master Nicholas; "thou art not
+fit to be abroad."
+
+The Baron answered him never a word, but he glared at him from out of
+his bloodshot eyes and ground his teeth together. Then he started forth
+again upon his way.
+
+Down the long hall he went, slowly and laboriously, the others following
+silently behind him, then up the steep winding stairs, step by step,
+now and then stopping to lean against the wall. So he reached a long
+and gloomy passageway lit only by the light of a little window at the
+further end.
+
+He stopped at the door of one of the rooms that opened into this
+passage-way, stood for a moment, then he pushed it open.
+
+No one was within but old Ursela, who sat crooning over a fire with a
+bundle upon her knees. She did not see the Baron or know that he was
+there.
+
+"Where is your lady?" said he, in a hollow voice.
+
+Then the old nurse looked up with a start. "Jesu bless us," cried she,
+and crossed herself.
+
+"Where is your lady?" said the Baron again, in the same hoarse voice;
+and then, not waiting for an answer, "Is she dead?"
+
+The old woman looked at him for a minute blinking her watery eyes, and
+then suddenly broke into a shrill, long-drawn wail. The Baron needed to
+hear no more.
+
+As though in answer to the old woman's cry, a thin piping complaint came
+from the bundle in her lap.
+
+At the sound the red blood flashed up into the Baron's face. "What
+is that you have there?" said he, pointing to the bundle upon the old
+woman's knees.
+
+She drew back the coverings and there lay a poor, weak, little baby,
+that once again raised its faint reedy pipe.
+
+"It is your son," said Ursela, "that the dear Baroness left behind her
+when the holy angels took her to Paradise. She blessed him and called
+him Otto before she left us."
+
+
+
+
+IV. The White Cross on the Hill.
+
+Here the glassy waters of the River Rhine, holding upon its bosom a
+mimic picture of the blue sky and white clouds floating above, runs
+smoothly around a jutting point of land, St. Michaelsburg, rising from
+the reedy banks of the stream, sweeps up with a smooth swell until
+it cuts sharp and clear against the sky. Stubby vineyards covered its
+earthy breast, and field and garden and orchard crowned its brow, where
+lay the Monastery of St. Michaelsburg--"The White Cross on the Hill."
+There within the white walls, where the warm yellow sunlight slept, all
+was peaceful quietness, broken only now and then by the crowing of
+the cock or the clamorous cackle of a hen, the lowing of kine or the
+bleating of goats, a solitary voice in prayer, the faint accord of
+distant singing, or the resonant toll of the monastery bell from the
+high-peaked belfry that overlooked the hill and valley and the smooth,
+far-winding stream. No other sounds broke the stillness, for in this
+peaceful haven was never heard the clash of armor, the ring of iron-shod
+hoofs, or the hoarse call to arms.
+
+All men were not wicked and cruel and fierce in that dark, far-away age;
+all were not robbers and terror-spreading tyrants, even in that time
+when men's hands were against their neighbors, and war and rapine dwelt
+in place of peace and justice.
+
+Abbot Otto, of St. Michaelsburg, was a gentle, patient, pale-faced old
+man; his white hands were soft and smooth, and no one would have thought
+that they could have known the harsh touch of sword-hilt and lance. And
+yet, in the days of the Emperor Frederick--the grandson of the great
+Red-beard--no one stood higher in the prowess of arms than he. But all
+at once--for why, no man could tell--a change came over him, and in the
+flower of his youth and fame and growing power he gave up everything
+in life and entered the quiet sanctuary of that white monastery on the
+hill-side, so far away from the tumult and the conflict of the world in
+which he had lived.
+
+Some said that it was because the lady he had loved had loved his
+brother, and that when they were married Otto of Wolbergen had left the
+church with a broken heart.
+
+But such stories are old songs that have been sung before.
+
+Clatter! clatter! Jingle! jingle! It was a full-armed knight that came
+riding up the steep hill road that wound from left to right and right to
+left amid the vineyards on the slopes of St. Michaelsburg. Polished helm
+and corselet blazed in the noon sunlight, for no knight in those days
+dared to ride the roads except in full armor. In front of him the
+solitary knight carried a bundle wrapped in the folds of his coarse gray
+cloak.
+
+It was a sorely sick man that rode up the heights of St. Michaelsburg.
+His head hung upon his breast through the faintness of weariness and
+pain; for it was the Baron Conrad.
+
+He had left his bed of sickness that morning, had saddled his horse in
+the gray dawn with his own hands, and had ridden away into the misty
+twilight of the forest without the knowledge of anyone excepting the
+porter, who, winking and blinking in the bewilderment of his broken
+slumber, had opened the gates to the sick man, hardly knowing what he
+was doing, until he beheld his master far away, clattering down the
+steep bridle-path.
+
+Eight leagues had he ridden that day with neither a stop nor a stay; but
+now at last the end of his journey had come, and he drew rein under the
+shade of the great wooden gateway of St. Michaelsburg.
+
+He reached up to the knotted rope and gave it a pull, and from within
+sounded the answering ring of the porter's bell. By and by a little
+wicket opened in the great wooden portals, and the gentle, wrinkled face
+of old Brother Benedict, the porter, peeped out at the strange iron-clad
+visitor and the great black war-horse, streaked and wet with the sweat
+of the journey, flecked and dappled with flakes of foam. A few words
+passed between them, and then the little window was closed again; and
+within, the shuffling pat of the sandalled feet sounded fainter and
+fainter, as Brother Benedict bore the message from Baron Conrad to Abbot
+Otto, and the mail-clad figure was left alone, sitting there as silent
+as a statue.
+
+By and by the footsteps sounded again; there came a noise of clattering
+chains and the rattle of the key in the lock, and the rasping of the
+bolts dragged back. Then the gate swung slowly open, and Baron Conrad
+rode into the shelter of the White Cross, and as the hoofs of his
+war-horse clashed upon the stones of the courtyard within, the wooden
+gate swung slowly to behind him.
+
+Abbot Otto stood by the table when Baron Conrad entered the high-vaulted
+room from the farther end. The light from the oriel window behind the
+old man shed broken rays of light upon him, and seemed to frame his thin
+gray hairs with a golden glory. His white, delicate hand rested upon the
+table beside him, and upon some sheets of parchment covered with rows of
+ancient Greek writing which he had been engaged in deciphering.
+
+Clank! clank! clank! Baron Conrad strode across the stone floor, and
+then stopped short in front of the good old man.
+
+"What dost thou seek here, my son?" said the Abbot.
+
+"I seek sanctuary for my son and thy brother's grandson," said the Baron
+Conrad, and he flung back the folds of his cloak and showed the face of
+the sleeping babe.
+
+For a while the Abbot said nothing, but stood gazing dreamily at
+the baby. After a while he looked up. "And the child's mother," said
+he--"what hath she to say at this?"
+
+"She hath naught to say," said Baron Conrad, hoarsely, and then stopped
+short in his speech. "She is dead," said he, at last, in a husky voice,
+"and is with God's angels in paradise."
+
+The Abbot looked intently in the Baron's face. "So!" said he, under his
+breath, and then for the first time noticed how white and drawn was the
+Baron's face. "Art sick thyself?" he asked.
+
+"Ay," said the Baron, "I have come from death's door. But that is no
+matter. Wilt thou take this little babe into sanctuary? My house is a
+vile, rough place, and not fit for such as he, and his mother with the
+blessed saints in heaven." And once more Conrad of Drachenhausen's face
+began twitching with the pain of his thoughts.
+
+"Yes," said the old man, gently, "he shall live here," and he stretched
+out his hands and took the babe. "Would," said he, "that all the little
+children in these dark times might be thus brought to the house of God,
+and there learn mercy and peace, instead of rapine and war."
+
+For a while he stood looking down in silence at the baby in his arms,
+but with his mind far away upon other things. At last he roused himself
+with a start. "And thou," said he to the Baron Conrad--"hath not thy
+heart been chastened and softened by this? Surely thou wilt not go back
+to thy old life of rapine and extortion?"
+
+"Nay," said Baron Conrad, gruffly, "I will rob the city swine no longer,
+for that was the last thing that my dear one asked of me."
+
+The old Abbot's face lit up with a smile. "I am right glad that thy
+heart was softened, and that thou art willing at last to cease from war
+and violence."
+
+"Nay," cried the Baron, roughly, "I said nothing of ceasing from war. By
+heaven, no! I will have revenge!" And he clashed his iron foot upon the
+floor and clinched his fists and ground his teeth together. "Listen,"
+said he, "and I will tell thee how my troubles happened. A fortnight ago
+I rode out upon an expedition against a caravan of fat burghers in the
+valley of Gruenhoffen. They outnumbered us many to one, but city swine
+such as they are not of the stuff to stand against our kind for a long
+time. Nevertheless, while the men-at-arms who guarded the caravan were
+staying us with pike and cross-bow from behind a tree which they had
+felled in front of a high bridge the others had driven the pack-horses
+off, so that by the time we had forced the bridge they were a league
+or more away. We pushed after them as hard as we were able, but when we
+came up with them we found that they had been joined by Baron Frederick
+of Trutz-Drachen, to whom for three years and more the burghers of
+Gruenstadt have been paying a tribute for his protection against others.
+Then again they made a stand, and this time the Baron Frederick himself
+was with them. But though the dogs fought well, we were forcing them
+back, and might have got the better of them, had not my horse stumbled
+upon a sloping stone, and so fell and rolled over upon me. While I lay
+there with my horse upon me, Baron Frederick ran me down with his lance,
+and gave me that foul wound that came so near to slaying me--and did
+slay my dear wife. Nevertheless, my men were able to bring me out from
+that press and away, and we had bitten the Trutz-Drachen dogs so deep
+that they were too sore to follow us, and so let us go our way in peace.
+But when those fools of mine brought me to my castle they bore me lying
+upon a litter to my wife's chamber. There she beheld me, and, thinking
+me dead, swooned a death-swoon, so that she only lived long enough to
+bless her new-born babe and name it Otto, for you, her father's brother.
+But, by heavens! I will have revenge, root and branch, upon that vile
+tribe, the Roderburgs of Trutz-Drachen. Their great-grandsire built that
+castle in scorn of Baron Casper in the old days; their grandsire slew my
+father's grandsire; Baron Nicholas slew two of our kindred; and now this
+Baron Frederick gives me that foul wound and kills my dear wife through
+my body." Here the Baron stopped short; then of a sudden, shaking his
+fist above his head, he cried out in his hoarse voice: "I swear by all
+the saints in heaven, either the red cock shall crow over the roof of
+Trutz-Drachen or else it shall crow over my house! The black dog shall
+sit on Baron Frederick's shoulders or else he shall sit on mine!" Again
+he stopped, and fixing his blazing eyes upon the old man, "Hearest thou
+that, priest?" said he, and broke into a great boisterous laugh.
+
+Abbot Otto sighed heavily, but he tried no further to persuade the other
+into different thoughts.
+
+"Thou art wounded," said he, at last, in a gentle voice; "at least stay
+here with us until thou art healed."
+
+"Nay," said the Baron, roughly, "I will tarry no longer than to hear
+thee promise to care for my child."
+
+"I promise," said the Abbot; "but lay aside thy armor, and rest."
+
+"Nay," said the Baron, "I go back again to-day."
+
+At this the Abbot cried out in amazement: "Sure thou, wounded man, would
+not take that long journey without a due stay for resting! Think! Night
+will be upon thee before thou canst reach home again, and the forests
+are beset with wolves."
+
+The Baron laughed. "Those are not the wolves I fear," said he. "Urge me
+no further, I must return to-night; yet if thou hast a mind to do me a
+kindness thou canst give me some food to eat and a flask of your golden
+Michaelsburg; beyond these, I ask no further favor of any man, be he
+priest or layman."
+
+"What comfort I can give thee thou shalt have," said the Abbot, in his
+patient voice, and so left the room to give the needful orders, bearing
+the babe with him.
+
+
+
+
+V. How Otto Dwelt at St. Michaelsburg.
+
+So the poor, little, motherless waif lived among the old monks at the
+White Cross on the hill, thriving and growing apace until he had reached
+eleven or twelve years of age; a slender, fair-haired little fellow,
+with a strange, quiet serious manner.
+
+"Poor little child!" Old Brother Benedict would sometimes say to the
+others, "poor little child! The troubles in which he was born must have
+broken his wits like a glass cup. What think ye he said to me to-day?
+'Dear Brother Benedict,' said he, 'dost thou shave the hair off of the
+top of thy head so that the dear God may see thy thoughts the better?'
+Think of that now!" and the good old man shook with silent laughter.
+
+When such talk came to the good Father Abbot's ears, he smiled quietly
+to himself. "It may be," said he, "that the wisdom of little children
+flies higher than our heavy wits can follow."
+
+At least Otto was not slow with his studies, and Brother Emmanuel,
+who taught him his lessons, said more than once that, if his wits were
+cracked in other ways, they were sound enough in Latin.
+
+Otto, in a quaint, simple way which belonged to him, was gentle
+and obedient to all. But there was one among the Brethren of St.
+Michaelsburg whom he loved far above all the rest--Brother John, a poor
+half-witted fellow, of some twenty-five or thirty years of age. When
+a very little child, he had fallen from his nurse's arms and hurt his
+head, and as he grew up into boyhood, and showed that his wits had been
+addled by his fall, his family knew not what else to do with him, and
+so sent him off to the Monastery of St. Michaelsburg, where he lived
+his simple, witless life upon a sort of sufferance, as though he were a
+tame, harmless animal.
+
+While Otto was still a little baby, he had been given into Brother
+John's care. Thereafter, and until Otto had grown old enough to care for
+himself, poor Brother John never left his little charge, night or day.
+Oftentimes the good Father Abbot, coming into the garden, where he loved
+to walk alone in his meditations, would find the poor, simple Brother
+sitting under the shade of the pear-tree, close to the bee-hives,
+rocking the little baby in his arms, singing strange, crazy songs to
+it, and gazing far away into the blue, empty sky with his curious, pale
+eyes.
+
+Although, as Otto grew up into boyhood, his lessons and his tasks
+separated him from Brother John, the bond between them seemed to grow
+stronger rather than weaker. During the hours that Otto had for his own
+they were scarcely ever apart. Down in the vineyard, where the monks
+were gathering the grapes for the vintage, in the garden, or in the
+fields, the two were always seen together, either wandering hand in
+hand, or seated in some shady nook or corner.
+
+But most of all they loved to lie up in the airy wooden belfry; the
+great gaping bell hanging darkly above them, the mouldering cross-beams
+glimmering far up under the dim shadows of the roof, where dwelt a great
+brown owl that, unfrightened at their familiar presence, stared down at
+them with his round, solemn eyes. Below them stretched the white walls
+of the garden, beyond them the vineyard, and beyond that again the far
+shining river, that seemed to Otto's mind to lead into wonder-land.
+There the two would lie upon the belfry floor by the hour, talking
+together of the strangest things.
+
+"I saw the dear Angel Gabriel again yester morn," said Brother John.
+
+"So!" says Otto, seriously; "and where was that?"
+
+"It was out in the garden, in the old apple-tree," said Brother John. "I
+was walking there, and my wits were running around in the grass like a
+mouse. What heard I but a wonderful sound of singing, and it was like
+the hum of a great bee, only sweeter than honey. So I looked up into the
+tree, and there I saw two sparks. I thought at first that they were
+two stars that had fallen out of heaven; but what think you they were,
+little child?"
+
+"I do not know," said Otto, breathlessly.
+
+"They were angel's eyes," said Brother John; and he smiled in the
+strangest way, as he gazed up into the blue sky. "So I looked at the two
+sparks and felt happy, as one does in spring time when the cold weather
+is gone, and the warm sun shines, and the cuckoo sings again. Then,
+by-and-by, I saw the face to which the eyes belonged. First, it shone
+white and thin like the moon in the daylight; but it grew brighter and
+brighter, until it hurt one's eyes to look at it, as though it had been
+the blessed sun itself. Angel Gabriel's hand was as white as silver, and
+in it he held a green bough with blossoms, like those that grow on the
+thorn bush. As for his robe, it was all of one piece, and finer than the
+Father Abbot's linen, and shone beside like the sunlight on pure snow.
+So I knew from all these things that it was the blessed Angel Gabriel."
+
+"What do they say about this tree, Brother John?" said he to me.
+
+"They say it is dying, my Lord Angel," said I, "and that the gardener
+will bring a sharp axe and cut it down."
+
+"'And what dost thou say about it, Brother John?' said he."
+
+"'I also say yes, and that it is dying,' said I."
+
+"At that he smiled until his face shone so bright that I had to shut my
+eyes."
+
+"'Now I begin to believe, Brother John, that thou art as foolish as men
+say,' said he. 'Look, till I show thee.' And thereat I opened mine eyes
+again."
+
+"Then Angel Gabriel touched the dead branches with the flowery twig that
+he held in his hand, and there was the dead wood all covered with green
+leaves, and fair blossoms and beautiful apples as yellow as gold. Each
+smelling more sweetly than a garden of flowers, and better to the taste
+than white bread and honey.
+
+"'They are souls of the apples,' said the good Angel,' and they can
+never wither and die.'
+
+"'Then I'll tell the gardener that he shall not cut the tree down,' said
+I."
+
+"'No, no,' said the dear Gabriel, 'that will never do, for if the tree
+is not cut down here on the earth, it can never be planted in paradise.'"
+
+Here Brother John stopped short in his story, and began singing one of
+his crazy songs, as he gazed with his pale eyes far away into nothing at
+all.
+
+"But tell me, Brother John," said little Otto, in a hushed voice, "what
+else did the good Angel say to thee?"
+
+Brother John stopped short in his song and began looking from right to
+left, and up and down, as though to gather his wits.
+
+"So!" said he, "there was something else that he told me. Tschk! If I
+could but think now. Yes, good! This is it--'Nothing that has lived,'
+said he, 'shall ever die, and nothing that has died shall ever live.'"
+
+Otto drew a deep breath. "I would that I might see the beautiful Angel
+Gabriel sometime," said he; but Brother John was singing again and did
+not seem to hear what he said.
+
+Next to Brother John, the nearest one to the little child was the good
+Abbot Otto, for though he had never seen wonderful things with the eyes
+of his soul, such as Brother John's had beheld, and so could not tell of
+them, he was yet able to give little Otto another pleasure that no one
+else could give.
+
+He was a great lover of books, the old Abbot, and had under lock and key
+wonderful and beautiful volumes, bound in hog-skin and metal, and with
+covers inlaid with carved ivory, or studded with precious stones. But
+within these covers, beautiful as they were, lay the real wonder of the
+books, like the soul in the body; for there, beside the black letters
+and initials, gay with red and blue and gold, were beautiful pictures
+painted upon the creamy parchment. Saints and Angels, the Blessed Virgin
+with the golden oriole about her head, good St. Joseph, the three Kings;
+the simple Shepherds kneeling in the fields, while Angels with glories
+about their brow called to the poor Peasants from the blue sky above.
+But, most beautiful of all was the picture of the Christ Child lying in
+the manger, with the mild-eyed Kine gazing at him.
+
+Sometimes the old Abbot would unlock the iron-bound chest where these
+treasures lay hidden, and carefully and lovingly brushing the few grains
+of dust from them, would lay them upon the table beside the oriel window
+in front of his little namesake, allowing the little boy freedom to turn
+the leaves as he chose.
+
+Always it was one picture that little Otto sought; the Christ Child in
+the manger, with the Virgin, St. Joseph, the Shepherds, and the Kine.
+And as he would hang breathlessly gazing and gazing upon it, the old
+Abbot would sit watching him with a faint, half-sad smile flickering
+around his thin lips and his pale, narrow face.
+
+It was a pleasant, peaceful life, but by-and-by the end came. Otto was
+now nearly twelve years old.
+
+One bright, clear day, near the hour of noon, little Otto heard the
+porter's bell sounding below in the court-yard--dong! dong! Brother
+Emmanuel had been appointed as the boy's instructor, and just then Otto
+was conning his lessons in the good monk's cell. Nevertheless, at the
+sound of the bell he pricked up his ears and listened, for a visitor was
+a strange matter in that out-of-the-way place, and he wondered who it
+could be. So, while his wits wandered his lessons lagged.
+
+"Postera Phoeba lustrabat lampade terras," continued Brother Emmanuel,
+inexorably running his horny finger-nail beneath the line, "humentemque
+Aurora polo dimoverat umbram--" the lesson dragged along.
+
+Just then a sandaled footstep sounded without, in the stone corridor,
+and a light tap fell upon Brother Emmanuel's door. It was Brother
+Ignatius, and the Abbot wished little Otto to come to the refectory.
+
+As they crossed the court-yard Otto stared to see a group of mail-clad
+men-at-arms, some sitting upon their horses, some standing by the
+saddle-bow. "Yonder is the young baron," he heard one of them say in a
+gruff voice, and thereupon all turned and stared at him.
+
+A stranger was in the refectory, standing beside the good old Abbot,
+while food and wine were being brought and set upon the table for his
+refreshment; a great, tall, broad-shouldered man, beside whom the Abbot
+looked thinner and slighter than ever.
+
+The stranger was clad all in polished and gleaming armor, of plate and
+chain, over which was drawn a loose robe of gray woollen stuff, reaching
+to the knees and bound about the waist by a broad leathern sword-belt.
+Upon his arm he carried a great helmet which he had just removed from
+his head. His face was weather-beaten and rugged, and on lip and chin
+was a wiry, bristling beard; once red, now frosted with white.
+
+Brother Ignatius had bidden Otto to enter, and had then closed the door
+behind him; and now, as the lad walked slowly up the long room, he gazed
+with round, wondering blue eyes at the stranger.
+
+"Dost know who I am, Otto? said the mail-clad knight, in a deep,
+growling voice.
+
+"Methinks you are my father, sir," said Otto.
+
+"Aye, thou art right," said Baron Conrad, "and I am glad to see that
+these milk-churning monks have not allowed thee to forget me, and who
+thou art thyself."
+
+"An' it please you," said Otto, "no one churneth milk here but
+Brother Fritz; we be makers of wine and not makers of butter, at St.
+Michaelsburg."
+
+Baron Conrad broke into a great, loud laugh, but Abbot Otto's sad and
+thoughtful face lit up with no shadow of an answering smile.
+
+"Conrad," said he, turning to the other, "again let me urge thee; do
+not take the child hence, his life can never be your life, for he is not
+fitted for it. I had thought," said he, after a moment's pause, "I had
+thought that thou hadst meant to consecrate him--this motherless one--to
+the care of the Universal Mother Church."
+
+"So!" said the Baron, "thou hadst thought that, hadst thou? Thou hadst
+thought that I had intended to deliver over this boy, the last of the
+Vuelphs, to the arms of the Church? What then was to become of our name
+and the glory of our race if it was to end with him in a monastery? No,
+Drachenhausen is the home of the Vuelphs, and there the last of the race
+shall live as his sires have lived before him, holding to his rights by
+the power and the might of his right hand."
+
+The Abbot turned and looked at the boy, who was gaping in simple
+wide-eyed wonderment from one to the other as they spoke.
+
+"And dost thou think, Conrad," said the old man, in his gentle, patient
+voice, "that that poor child can maintain his rights by the strength of
+his right hand?"
+
+The Baron's look followed the Abbot's, and he said nothing.
+
+In the few seconds of silence that followed, little Otto, in his simple
+mind, was wondering what all this talk portended. Why had his father
+come hither to St. Michaelsburg, lighting up the dim silence of the
+monastery with the flash and ring of his polished armor? Why had he
+talked about churning butter but now, when all the world knew that the
+monks of St. Michaelsburg made wine.
+
+It was Baron Conrad's deep voice that broke the little pause of silence.
+
+"If you have made a milkmaid of the boy," he burst out at last, "I thank
+the dear heaven that there is yet time to undo your work and to make a
+man of him."
+
+The Abbot sighed. "The child is yours, Conrad," said he, "the will of
+the blessed saints be done. Mayhap if he goes to dwell at Drachenhausen
+he may make you the better instead of you making him the worse."
+
+Then light came to the darkness of little Otto's wonderment; he saw what
+all this talk meant and why his father had come hither. He was to leave
+the happy, sunny silence of the dear White Cross, and to go out into
+that great world that he had so often looked down upon from the high
+windy belfry on the steep hillside.
+
+
+
+
+VI. How Otto Lived in the Dragon's House.
+
+The gates of the Monastery stood wide open, the world lay beyond, and
+all was ready for departure. Baron Conrad and his men-at-arms sat foot
+in stirrup, the milk-white horse that had been brought for Otto stood
+waiting for him beside his father's great charger.
+
+"Farewell, Otto," said the good old Abbot, as he stooped and kissed the
+boy's cheek.
+
+"Farewell," answered Otto, in his simple, quiet way, and it brought
+a pang to the old man's heart that the child should seem to grieve so
+little at the leave-taking.
+
+"Farewell, Otto," said the brethren that stood about, "farewell,
+farewell."
+
+Then poor brother John came forward and took the boy's hand, and looked
+up into his face as he sat upon his horse. "We will meet again," said
+he, with his strange, vacant smile, "but maybe it will be in Paradise,
+and there perhaps they will let us lie in the father's belfry, and look
+down upon the angels in the court-yard below."
+
+"Aye," answered Otto, with an answering smile.
+
+"Forward," cried the Baron, in a deep voice, and with a clash of hoofs
+and jingle of armor they were gone, and the great wooden gates were shut
+to behind them.
+
+Down the steep winding pathway they rode, and out into the great wide
+world beyond, upon which Otto and brother John had gazed so often from
+the wooden belfry of the White Cross on the hill.
+
+"Hast been taught to ride a horse by the priests up yonder on
+Michaelsburg?" asked the Baron, when they had reached the level road.
+
+"Nay," said Otto; "we had no horse to ride, but only to bring in the
+harvest or the grapes from the further vineyards to the vintage."
+
+"Prut," said the Baron, "methought the abbot would have had enough of
+the blood of old days in his veins to have taught thee what is fitting
+for a knight to know; art not afeared?"
+
+"Nay," said Otto, with a smile, "I am not afeared."
+
+"There at least thou showest thyself a Vuelph," said the grim Baron. But
+perhaps Otto's thought of fear and Baron Conrad's thought of fear were
+two very different matters.
+
+The afternoon had passed by the time they had reached the end of their
+journey. Up the steep, stony path they rode to the drawbridge and
+the great gaping gateway of Drachenhausen, where wall and tower and
+battlement looked darker and more forbidding than ever in the gray
+twilight of the coming night. Little Otto looked up with great,
+wondering, awe-struck eyes at this grim new home of his.
+
+The next moment they clattered over the drawbridge that spanned the
+narrow black gulph between the roadway and the wall, and the next were
+past the echoing arch of the great gateway and in the gray gloaming of
+the paved court-yard within.
+
+Otto looked around upon the many faces gathered there to catch the
+first sight of the little baron; hard, rugged faces, seamed and
+weather-beaten; very different from those of the gentle brethren among
+whom he had lived, and it seemed strange to him that there was none
+there whom he should know.
+
+As he climbed the steep, stony steps to the door of the Baron's house,
+old Ursela came running down to meet him. She flung her withered arms
+around him and hugged him close to her. "My little child," she cried,
+and then fell to sobbing as though her heart would break.
+
+"Here is someone knoweth me," thought the little boy.
+
+His new home was all very strange and wonderful to Otto; the armors, the
+trophies, the flags, the long galleries with their ranges of rooms,
+the great hall below with its vaulted roof and its great fireplace of
+grotesquely carved stone, and all the strange people with their lives
+and thoughts so different from what he had been used to know.
+
+And it was a wonderful thing to explore all the strange places in the
+dark old castle; places where it seemed to Otto no one could have ever
+been before.
+
+Once he wandered down a long, dark passageway below the hall, pushed
+open a narrow, iron-bound oaken door, and found himself all at once in
+a strange new land; the gray light, coming in through a range of tall,
+narrow windows, fell upon a row of silent, motionless figures carven in
+stone, knights and ladies in strange armor and dress; each lying upon
+his or her stony couch with clasped hands, and gazing with fixed,
+motionless, stony eyeballs up into the gloomy, vaulted arch above them.
+There lay, in a cold, silent row, all of the Vuelphs who had died since
+the ancient castle had been built.
+
+It was the chapel into which Otto had made his way, now long since
+fallen out of use excepting as a burial place of the race.
+
+At another time he clambered up into the loft under the high peaked
+roof, where lay numberless forgotten things covered with the dim dust
+of years. There a flock of pigeons had made their roost, and flapped
+noisily out into the sunlight when he pushed open the door from below.
+Here he hunted among the mouldering things of the past until, oh, joy
+of joys! in an ancient oaken chest he found a great lot of worm-eaten
+books, that had belonged to some old chaplain of the castle in days gone
+by. They were not precious and beautiful volumes, such as the Father
+Abbot had showed him, but all the same they had their quaint painted
+pictures of the blessed saints and angels.
+
+Again, at another time, going into the court-yard, Otto had found
+the door of Melchior's tower standing invitingly open, for old Hilda,
+Schwartz Carl's wife, had come down below upon some business or other.
+
+Then upon the shaky wooden steps Otto ran without waiting for a second
+thought, for he had often gazed at those curious buildings hanging so
+far up in the air, and had wondered what they were like. Round and round
+and up and up Otto climbed, until his head spun. At last he reached
+a landing-stage, and gazing over the edge and down, beheld the stone
+pavement far, far below, lit by a faint glimmer of light that entered
+through the arched doorway. Otto clutched tight hold of the wooden rail,
+he had no thought that he had climbed so far.
+
+Upon the other side of the landing was a window that pierced the thick
+stone walls of the tower; out of the window he looked, and then drew
+suddenly back again with a gasp, for it was through the outer wall he
+peered, and down, down below in the dizzy depths he saw the hard
+gray rocks, where the black swine, looking no larger than ants in the
+distance, fed upon the refuse thrown out over the walls of the castle.
+There lay the moving tree-tops like a billowy green sea, and the coarse
+thatched roofs of the peasant cottages, round which crawled the little
+children like tiny human specks.
+
+Then Otto turned and crept down the stairs, frightened at the height to
+which he had climbed.
+
+At the doorway he met Mother Hilda. "Bless us," she cried, starting back
+and crossing herself, and then, seeing who it was, ducked him a courtesy
+with as pleasant a smile as her forbidding face, with its little
+deep-set eyes, was able to put upon itself.
+
+Old Ursela seemed nearer to the boy than anyone else about the castle,
+excepting it was his father, and it was a newfound delight to Otto to
+sit beside her and listen to her quaint stories, so different from the
+monkish tales that he had heard and read at the monastery.
+
+But one day it was a tale of a different sort that she told him, and one
+that opened his eyes to what he had never dreamed of before.
+
+The mellow sunlight fell through the window upon old Ursela, as she sat
+in the warmth with her distaff in her hands while Otto lay close to her
+feet upon a bear skin, silently thinking over the strange story of a
+brave knight and a fiery dragon that she had just told him. Suddenly
+Ursela broke the silence.
+
+"Little one," said she, "thou art wondrously like thy own dear mother;
+didst ever hear how she died?"
+
+"Nay," said Otto, "but tell me, Ursela, how it was."
+
+"Tis strange," said the old woman, "that no one should have told thee
+in all this time." And then, in her own fashion she related to him the
+story of how his father had set forth upon that expedition in spite of
+all that Otto's mother had said, beseeching him to abide at home; how he
+had been foully wounded, and how the poor lady had died from her fright
+and grief.
+
+Otto listened with eyes that grew wider and wider, though not all with
+wonder; he no longer lay upon the bear skin, but sat up with his hands
+clasped. For a moment or two after the old woman had ended her story, he
+sat staring silently at her. Then he cried out, in a sharp voice, "And
+is this truth that you tell me, Ursela? and did my father seek to rob
+the towns people of their goods?"
+
+Old Ursela laughed. "Aye," said she, "that he did and many times. Ah!
+me, those day's are all gone now." And she fetched a deep sigh. "Then we
+lived in plenty and had both silks and linens and velvets besides in the
+store closets and were able to buy good wines and live in plenty upon
+the best. Now we dress in frieze and live upon what we can get and
+sometimes that is little enough, with nothing better than sour beer to
+drink. But there is one comfort in it all, and that is that our good
+Baron paid back the score he owed the Trutz-Drachen people not only for
+that, but for all that they had done from the very first."
+
+Thereupon she went on to tell Otto how Baron Conrad had fulfilled the
+pledge of revenge that he had made Abbot Otto, how he had watched day
+after day until one time he had caught the Trutz-Drachen folk,
+with Baron Frederick at their head, in a narrow defile back of the
+Kaiserburg; of the fierce fight that was there fought; of how the
+Roderburgs at last fled, leaving Baron Frederick behind them wounded; of
+how he had kneeled before the Baron Conrad, asking for mercy, and of
+how Baron Conrad had answered, "Aye, thou shalt have such mercy as thou
+deservest," and had therewith raised his great two-handed sword and laid
+his kneeling enemy dead at one blow.
+
+Poor little Otto had never dreamed that such cruelty and wickedness
+could be. He listened to the old woman's story with gaping horror, and
+when the last came and she told him, with a smack of her lips, how his
+father had killed his enemy with his own hand, he gave a gasping cry and
+sprang to his feet. Just then the door at the other end of the chamber
+was noisily opened, and Baron Conrad himself strode into the room.
+Otto turned his head, and seeing who it was, gave another cry, loud and
+quavering, and ran to his father and caught him by the hand.
+
+"Oh, father!" he cried, "oh, father! Is it true that thou hast killed a
+man with thy own hand?"
+
+"Aye," said the Baron, grimly, "it is true enough, and I think me I have
+killed many more than one. But what of that, Otto? Thou must get out of
+those foolish notions that the old monks have taught thee. Here in the
+world it is different from what it is at St. Michaelsburg; here a man
+must either slay or be slain."
+
+But poor little Otto, with his face hidden in his father's robe, cried
+as though his heart would break. "Oh, father!" he said, again and again,
+"it cannot be--it cannot be that thou who art so kind to me should have
+killed a man with thine own hands." Then: "I wish that I were back
+in the monastery again; I am afraid out here in the great wide world;
+perhaps somebody may kill me, for I am only a weak little boy and could
+not save my own life if they chose to take it from me."
+
+Baron Conrad looked down upon Otto all this while, drawing his bushy
+eyebrows together. Once he reached out his hand as though to stroke the
+boy's hair, but drew it back again.
+
+Turning angrily upon the old woman, "Ursela," said he, "thou must tell
+the child no more such stories as these; he knowest not at all of such
+things as yet. Keep thy tongue busy with the old woman's tales that he
+loves to hear thee tell, and leave it with me to teach him what becometh
+a true knight and a Vuelph."
+
+That night the father and son sat together beside the roaring fire in
+the great ball. "Tell me, Otto," said the Baron, "dost thou hate me for
+having done what Ursela told thee today that I did?"
+
+Otto looked for a while into his father's face. "I know not," said he at
+last, in his quaint, quiet voice, "but methinks that I do not hate thee
+for it."
+
+The Baron drew his bushy brows together until his eyes twinkled out of
+the depths beneath them, then of a sudden he broke into a great loud
+laugh, smiting his horny palm with a smack upon his thigh.
+
+
+
+
+VII. The Red Cock Crows on Drachenhausen.
+
+There was a new emperor in Germany who had come from a far away Swiss
+castle; Count Rudolph of Hapsburg, a good, honest man with a good,
+honest, homely face, but bringing with him a stern sense of justice and
+of right, and a determination to put down the lawlessness of the savage
+German barons among whom he had come as Emperor.
+
+One day two strangers came galloping up the winding path to the gates
+of the Dragon's house. A horn sounded thin and clear, a parley was held
+across the chasm in the road between the two strangers and the porter
+who appeared at the little wicket. Then a messenger was sent running to
+the Baron, who presently came striding across the open court-yard to the
+gateway to parley with the strangers.
+
+The two bore with them a folded parchment with a great red seal
+hanging from it like a clot of blood; it was a message from the Emperor
+demanding that the Baron should come to the Imperial Court to answer
+certain charges that had been brought against him, and to give his bond
+to maintain the peace of the empire.
+
+One by one those barons who had been carrying on their private wars, or
+had been despoiling the burgher folk in their traffic from town to
+town, and against whom complaint had been lodged, were summoned to the
+Imperial Court, where they were compelled to promise peace and to swear
+allegiance to the new order of things. All those who came willingly were
+allowed to return home again after giving security for maintaining the
+peace; all those who came not willingly were either brought in chains
+or rooted out of their strongholds with fire and sword, and their roofs
+burned over their heads.
+
+Now it was Baron Conrad's turn to be summoned to the Imperial Court,
+for complaint had been lodged against him by his old enemy of
+Trutz-Drachen--Baron Henry--the nephew of the old Baron Frederick
+who had been slain while kneeling in the dust of the road back of the
+Kaiserburg.
+
+No one at Drachenhausen could read but Master Rudolph, the steward,
+who was sand blind, and little Otto. So the boy read the summons to his
+father, while the grim Baron sat silent with his chin resting upon his
+clenched fist and his eyebrows drawn together into a thoughtful frown as
+he gazed into the pale face of his son, who sat by the rude oaken table
+with the great parchment spread out before him.
+
+Should he answer the summons, or scorn it as he would have done under
+the old emperors? Baron Conrad knew not which to do; pride said one
+thing and policy another. The Emperor was a man with an iron hand, and
+Baron Conrad knew what had happened to those who had refused to obey the
+imperial commands. So at last he decided that he would go to the court,
+taking with him a suitable escort to support his dignity.
+
+It was with nearly a hundred armed men clattering behind him that Baron
+Conrad rode away to court to answer the imperial summons. The castle was
+stripped of its fighting men, and only eight remained behind to guard
+the great stone fortress and the little simple-witted boy.
+
+It was a sad mistake.
+
+Three days had passed since the Baron had left the castle, and now the
+third night had come. The moon was hanging midway in the sky, white and
+full, for it was barely past midnight.
+
+The high precipitous banks of the rocky road threw a dense black shadow
+into the gully below, and in that crooked inky line that scarred the
+white face of the moonlit rocks a band of some thirty men were creeping
+slowly and stealthily nearer and nearer to Castle Drachenhausen. At the
+head of them was a tall, slender knight clad in light chain armor, his
+head covered only by a steel cap or bascinet.
+
+Along the shadow they crept, with only now and then a faint clink or
+jingle of armor to break the stillness, for most of those who followed
+the armed knight were clad in leathern jerkins; only one or two wearing
+even so much as a steel breast-plate by way of armor.
+
+So at last they reached the chasm that yawned beneath the roadway, and
+there they stopped, for they had reached the spot toward which they had
+been journeying. It was Baron Henry of Trutz-Drachen who had thus come
+in the silence of the night time to the Dragon's house, and his visit
+boded no good to those within.
+
+The Baron and two or three of his men talked together in low tones, now
+and then looking up at the sheer wall that towered above them.
+
+"Yonder is the place, Lord Baron," said one of those who stood with him.
+"I have scanned every foot of the wall at night for a week past. An we
+get not in by that way, we get not in at all. A keen eye, a true aim,
+and a bold man are all that we need, and the business is done." Here
+again all looked upward at the gray wall above them, rising up in the
+silent night air.
+
+High aloft hung the wooden bartizan or watch-tower, clinging to the face
+of the outer wall and looming black against the pale sky above. Three
+great beams pierced the wall, and upon them the wooden tower rested. The
+middle beam jutted out beyond the rest to the distance of five or six
+feet, and the end of it was carved into the rude semblance of a dragon's
+head.
+
+"So, good," said the Baron at last; "then let us see if thy plan holds,
+and if Hans Schmidt's aim is true enough to earn the three marks that I
+have promised him. Where is the bag?"
+
+One of those who stood near handed the Baron a leathern pouch, the Baron
+opened it and drew out a ball of fine thread, another of twine, a coil
+of stout rope, and a great bundle that looked, until it was unrolled,
+like a coarse fish-net. It was a rope ladder. While these were being
+made ready, Hans Schmidt, a thick-set, low-browed, broad-shouldered
+archer, strung his stout bow, and carefully choosing three arrows
+from those in his quiver, he stuck them point downward in the earth.
+Unwinding the ball of thread, he laid it loosely in large loops upon the
+ground so that it might run easily without hitching, then he tied the
+end of the thread tightly around one of his arrows. He fitted the arrow
+to the bow and drew the feather to his ear. Twang! rang the bowstring,
+and the feathered messenger flew whistling upon its errand to the
+watch-tower. The very first shaft did the work.
+
+"Good," said Hans Schmidt, the archer, in his heavy voice, "the three
+marks are mine, Lord Baron."
+
+The arrow had fallen over and across the jutting beam between the carved
+dragon's head and the bartizan, carrying with it the thread, which now
+hung from above, glimmering white in the moonlight like a cobweb.
+
+The rest was an easy task enough. First the twine was drawn up to and
+over the beam by the thread, then the rope was drawn up by the twine,
+and last of all the rope ladder by the rope. There it hung like a thin,
+slender black line against the silent gray walls.
+
+"And now," said the Baron, "who will go first and win fifty marks for
+his own, and climb the rope ladder to the tower yonder?" Those around
+hesitated. "Is there none brave enough to venture?" said the Baron,
+after a pause of silence.
+
+A stout, young fellow, of about eighteen years of age, stepped forward
+and flung his flat leathern cap upon the ground. "I will go, my Lord
+Baron," said he.
+
+"Good," said the Baron, "the fifty marks are thine. And now listen, if
+thou findest no one in the watch-tower, whistle thus; if the watchman
+be at his post, see that thou makest all safe before thou givest the
+signal. When all is ready the others will follow thee. And now go and
+good luck go with thee."
+
+The young fellow spat upon his hands and, seizing the ropes, began
+slowly and carefully to mount the flimsy, shaking ladder. Those below
+held it as tight as they were able, but nevertheless he swung backward
+and forward and round and round as he climbed steadily upward. Once he
+stopped upon the way, and those below saw him clutch the ladder close
+to him as though dizzied by the height and the motion but he soon began
+again, up, up, up like some great black spider. Presently he came out
+from the black shadow below and into the white moonlight, and then his
+shadow followed him step by step up the gray wall upon his way. At last
+he reached the jutting beam, and there again he stopped for a moment
+clutching tightly to it. The next he was upon the beam, dragging himself
+toward the window of the bartizan just above. Slowly raising himself
+upon his narrow foothold he peeped cautiously within. Those watching
+him from be low saw him slip his hand softly to his side, and then place
+something between his teeth. It was his dagger. Reaching up, he clutched
+the window sill above him and, with a silent spring, seated himself
+upon it. The next moment he disappeared within. A few seconds of silence
+followed, then of sudden a sharp gurgling cry broke the stillness. There
+was another pause of silence, then a faint shrill whistle sounded from
+above.
+
+"Who will go next?" said the Baron. It was Hans Schmidt who stepped
+forward. Another followed the arch up the ladder, and another, and
+another. Last of all went the Baron Henry himself, and nothing was left
+but the rope ladder hanging from above, and swaying back and forth in
+the wind.
+
+That night Schwartz Carl had been bousing it over a pot of yellow wine
+in the pantry with his old crony, Master Rudolph, the steward; and the
+two, chatting and gossiping together, had passed the time away until
+long after the rest of the castle had been wrapped in sleep. Then,
+perhaps a little unsteady upon his feet, Schwartz Carl betook himself
+homeward to the Melchior tower.
+
+He stood for a while in the shadow of the doorway, gazing up into the
+pale sky above him at the great, bright, round moon, that hung like a
+bubble above the sharp peaks of the roofs standing black as ink against
+the sky. But all of a sudden he started up from the post against which
+he had been leaning, and with head bent to one side, stood listening
+breathlessly, for he too had heard that smothered cry from the
+watch-tower. So he stood intently, motionlessly, listening, listening;
+but all was silent except for the monotonous dripping of water in one of
+the nooks of the court-yard, and the distant murmur of the river borne
+upon the breath of the night air. "Mayhap I was mistaken," muttered
+Schwartz Carl to himself.
+
+But the next moment the silence was broken again by a faint, shrill
+whistle; what did it mean?
+
+Back of the heavy oaken door of the tower was Schwartz Carl's cross-bow,
+the portable windlass with which the bowstring was drawn back, and a
+pouch of bolts. Schwartz Carl reached back into the darkness, fumbling
+in the gloom until his fingers met the weapon. Setting his foot in the
+iron stirrup at the end of the stock, he wound the stout bow-string
+into the notch of the trigger, and carefully fitted the heavy,
+murderous-looking bolt into the groove.
+
+Minute after minute passed, and Schwartz Carl, holding his arbelast in
+his hand, stood silently waiting and watching in the sharp-cut, black
+shadow of the doorway, motionless as a stone statue. Minute after minute
+passed. Suddenly there was a movement in the shadow of the arch of the
+great gateway across the court-yard, and the next moment a leathern-clad
+figure crept noiselessly out upon the moonlit pavement, and stood there
+listening, his head bent to one side. Schwartz Carl knew very well
+that it was no one belonging to the castle, and, from the nature of his
+action, that he was upon no good errand.
+
+He did not stop to challenge the suspicious stranger. The taking of
+another's life was thought too small a matter for much thought or care
+in those days. Schwartz Carl would have shot a man for a much smaller
+reason than the suspicious actions of this fellow. The leather-clad
+figure stood a fine target in the moonlight for a cross-bow bolt.
+Schwartz Carl slowly raised the weapon to his shoulder and took a long
+and steady aim. Just then the stranger put his fingers to his lips and
+gave a low, shrill whistle. It was the last whistle that he was to give
+upon this earth. There was a sharp, jarring twang of the bow-string, the
+hiss of the flying bolt, and the dull thud as it struck its mark. The
+man gave a shrill, quavering cry, and went staggering back, and then
+fell all of a heap against the wall behind him. As though in answer to
+the cry, half a dozen men rushed tumultuously out from the shadow of
+the gateway whence the stranger had just come, and then stood in the
+court-yard, looking uncertainly this way and that, not knowing from what
+quarter the stroke had come that had laid their comrade low.
+
+But Schwartz Carl did not give them time to discover that; there was no
+chance to string his cumbersome weapon again; down he flung it upon the
+ground. "To arms!" he roared in a voice of thunder, and then clapped to
+the door of Melchior's tower and shot the great iron bolts with a clang
+and rattle.
+
+The next instant the Trutz-Drachen men were thundering at the door, but
+Schwartz Carl was already far up the winding steps.
+
+But now the others came pouring out from the gateway. "To the house,"
+roared Baron Henry.
+
+Then suddenly a clashing, clanging uproar crashed out upon the night.
+Dong! Dong! It was the great alarm bell from Melchior's tower--Schwartz
+Carl was at his post.
+
+Little Baron Otto lay sleeping upon the great rough bed in his room,
+dreaming of the White Cross on the hill and of brother John. By and by
+he heard the convent bell ringing, and knew that there must be visitors
+at the gate, for loud voices sounded through his dream. Presently he
+knew that he was coming awake, but though the sunny monastery garden
+grew dimmer and dimmer to his sleeping sight, the clanging of the bell
+and the sound of shouts grew louder and louder. Then he opened his eyes.
+Flaming red lights from torches, carried hither and thither by people
+in the court-yard outside, flashed and ran along the wall of his
+room. Hoarse shouts and cries filled the air, and suddenly the shrill,
+piercing shriek of a woman rang from wall to wall; and through the
+noises the great bell from far above upon Melchior's tower clashed and
+clanged its harsh, resonant alarm.
+
+Otto sprang from his bed and looked out of the window and down upon
+the court-yard below. "Dear God! what dreadful thing hath happened?" he
+cried and clasped his hands together.
+
+A cloud of smoke was pouring out from the windows of the building across
+the court-yard, whence a dull ruddy glow flashed and flickered. Strange
+men were running here and there with flaming torches, and the now
+continuous shrieking of women pierced the air.
+
+Just beneath the window lay the figure of a man half naked and face
+downward upon the stones. Then suddenly Otto cried out in fear and
+horror, for, as he looked with dazed and bewildered eyes down into the
+lurid court-yard beneath, a savage man, in a shining breast-plate and
+steel cap, came dragging the dark, silent figure of a woman across the
+stones; but whether she was dead or in a swoon, Otto could not tell.
+
+And every moment the pulsing of that dull red glare from the windows of
+the building across the court-yard shone more brightly, and the glare
+from other flaming buildings, which Otto could not see from his window,
+turned the black, starry night into a lurid day.
+
+Just then the door of the room was burst open, and in rushed poor old
+Ursela, crazy with her terror. She flung herself down upon the floor and
+caught Otto around the knees. "Save me!" she cried, "save me!" as though
+the poor, pale child could be of any help to her at such a time. In the
+passageway without shone the light of torches, and the sound of loud
+footsteps came nearer and nearer.
+
+And still through all the din sounded continually the clash and clang
+and clamor of the great alarm bell.
+
+The red light flashed into the room, and in the doorway stood a tall,
+thin figure clad from head to foot in glittering chain armor. From
+behind this fierce knight, with his dark, narrow, cruel face, its
+deep-set eyes glistening in the light of the torches, crowded six or
+eight savage, low-browed, brutal men, who stared into the room and
+at the white-faced boy as he stood by the window with the old woman
+clinging to his knees and praying to him for help.
+
+"We have cracked the nut and here is the kernel," said one of them who
+stood behind the rest, and thereupon a roar of brutal laughter went up.
+But the cruel face of the armed knight never relaxed into a smile;
+he strode into the room and laid his iron hand heavily upon the boy's
+shoulder. "Art thou the young Baron Otto?" said he, in a harsh voice.
+
+"Aye," said the lad; "but do not kill me."
+
+The knight did not answer him. "Fetch the cord hither," said he, "and
+drag the old witch away."
+
+It took two of them to loosen poor old Ursela's crazy clutch from about
+her young master. Then amid roars of laughter they dragged her away,
+screaming and scratching and striking with her fists.
+
+They drew back Otto's arms behind his back and wrapped them round and
+round with a bowstring. Then they pushed and hustled and thrust him
+forth from the room and along the passageway, now bright with the flames
+that roared and crackled without. Down the steep stairway they drove
+him, where thrice he stumbled and fell amid roars of laughter. At last
+they were out into the open air of the court-yard. Here was a terrible
+sight, but Otto saw nothing of it; his blue eyes were gazing far away,
+and his lips moved softly with the prayer that the good monks of St.
+Michaelsburg had taught him, for he thought that they meant to slay him.
+
+All around the court-yard the flames roared and snapped and crackled.
+Four or five figures lay scattered here and there, silent in all the
+glare and uproar. The heat was so intense that they were soon forced
+back into the shelter of the great gateway, where the women captives,
+under the guard of three or four of the Trutz-Drachen men, were crowded
+together in dumb, bewildered terror. Only one man was to be seen among
+the captives, poor, old, half blind Master Rudolph, the steward,
+who crouched tremblingly among the women. They had set the blaze to
+Melchior's tower, and now, below, it was a seething furnace. Above, the
+smoke rolled in black clouds from the windows, but still the alarm bell
+sounded through all the blaze and smoke. Higher and higher the flames
+rose; a trickle of fire ran along the frame buildings hanging aloft in
+the air. A clear flame burst out at the peak of the roof, but still the
+bell rang forth its clamorous clangor. Presently those who watched below
+saw the cluster of buildings bend and sink and sway; there was a crash
+and roar, a cloud of sparks flew up as though to the very heavens
+themselves, and the bell of Melchior's tower was stilled forever. A
+great shout arose from the watching, upturned faces.
+
+"Forward!" cried Baron Henry, and out from the gateway they swept and
+across the drawbridge, leaving Drachenhausen behind them a flaming
+furnace blazing against the gray of the early dawning.
+
+
+
+
+VIII. In the House of the Dragon Scorner.
+
+Tall, narrow, gloomy room; no furniture but a rude bench a bare stone
+floor, cold stone walls and a gloomy ceiling of arched stone over head;
+a long, narrow slit of a window high above in the wall, through the iron
+bars of which Otto could see a small patch of blue sky and now and then
+a darting swallow, for an instant seen, the next instant gone. Such
+was the little baron's prison in Trutz-Drachen. Fastened to a bolt
+and hanging against the walls, hung a pair of heavy chains with gaping
+fetters at the ends. They were thick with rust, and the red stain of
+the rust streaked the wall below where they hung like a smear of blood.
+Little Otto shuddered as he looked at them; can those be meant for me,
+he thought.
+
+Nothing was to be seen but that one patch of blue sky far up in the
+wall. No sound from without was to be heard in that gloomy cell of
+stone, for the window pierced the outer wall, and the earth and its
+noises lay far below.
+
+Suddenly a door crashed without, and the footsteps of men were heard
+coming along the corridor. They stopped in front of Otto's cell; he
+heard the jingle of keys, and then a loud rattle of one thrust into
+the lock of the heavy oaken door. The rusty bolt was shot back with a
+screech, the door opened, and there stood Baron Henry, no longer in his
+armor, but clad in a long black robe that reached nearly to his feet,
+a broad leather belt was girdled about his waist, and from it dangled a
+short, heavy hunting sword.
+
+Another man was with the Baron, a heavy-faced fellow clad in a leathern
+jerkin over which was drawn a short coat of linked mail.
+
+The two stood for a moment looking into the room, and Otto, his pale
+face glimmering in the gloom, sat upon the edge of the heavy wooden
+bench or bed, looking back at them out of his great blue eyes. Then the
+two entered and closed the door behind them.
+
+"Dost thou know why thou art here?" said the Baron, in his deep, harsh
+voice.
+
+"Nay," said Otto, "I know not."
+
+"So?" said the Baron. "Then I will tell thee. Three years ago the good
+Baron Frederick, my uncle, kneeled in the dust and besought mercy at thy
+father's hands; the mercy he received was the coward blow that slew him.
+Thou knowest the story?"
+
+"Aye," said Otto, tremblingly, "I know it."
+
+"Then dost thou not know why I am here?" said the Baron.
+
+"Nay, dear Lord Baron, I know not," said poor little Otto, and began to
+weep.
+
+The Baron stood for a moment or two looking gloomily upon him, as the
+little boy sat there with the tears running down his white face.
+
+"I will tell thee," said he, at last; "I swore an oath that the red cock
+should crow on Drachenhausen, and I have given it to the dames. I swore
+an oath that no Vuelph that ever left my hands should be able to strike
+such a blow as thy father gave to Baron Frederick, and now I will fulfil
+that too. Catch the boy, Casper, and hold him."
+
+As the man in the mail shirt stepped toward little Otto, the boy leaped
+up from where he sat and caught the Baron about the knees. "Oh! dear
+Lord Baron," he cried, "do not harm me; I am only a little child, I have
+never done harm to thee; do not harm me."
+
+"Take him away," said the Baron, harshly.
+
+The fellow stooped, and loosening Otto's hold, in spite of his struggles
+and cries, carried him to the bench, against which he held him, whilst
+the Baron stood above him.
+
+Baron Henry and the other came forth from the cell, carefully closing
+the wooden door behind them. At the end of the corridor the Baron
+turned, "Let the leech be sent to the boy," said he. And then he turned
+and walked away.
+
+Otto lay upon the hard couch in his cell, covered with a shaggy bear
+skin. His face was paler and thinner than ever, and dark rings encircled
+his blue eyes. He was looking toward the door, for there was a noise of
+someone fumbling with the lock without.
+
+Since that dreadful day when Baron Henry had come to his cell, only two
+souls had visited Otto. One was the fellow who had come with the Baron
+that time; his name, Otto found, was Casper. He brought the boy his rude
+meals of bread and meat and water. The other visitor was the leech or
+doctor, a thin, weasand little man, with a kindly, wrinkled face and a
+gossiping tongue, who, besides binding wounds, bleeding, and leeching,
+and administering his simple remedies to those who were taken sick in
+the castle, acted as the Baron's barber.
+
+The Baron had left the key in the lock of the door, so that these two
+might enter when they chose, but Otto knew that it was neither the one
+nor the other whom he now heard at the door, working uncertainly with
+the key, striving to turn it in the rusty, cumbersome lock. At last the
+bolts grated back, there was a pause, and then the door opened a little
+way, and Otto thought that he could see someone peeping in from without.
+By and by the door opened further, there was another pause, and then
+a slender, elfish-looking little girl, with straight black hair and
+shining black eyes, crept noiselessly into the room.
+
+She stood close by the door with her finger in her mouth, staring at
+the boy where he lay upon his couch, and Otto upon his part lay, full of
+wonder, gazing back upon the little elfin creature.
+
+She, seeing that he made no sign or motion, stepped a little nearer, and
+then, after a moment's pause, a little nearer still, until, at last, she
+stood within a few feet of where he lay.
+
+"Art thou the Baron Otto?" said she.
+
+"Yes," answered Otto.
+
+"Prut!" said she, "and is that so! Why, I thought that thou wert a great
+tall fellow at least, and here thou art a little boy no older than Carl
+Max, the gooseherd." Then, after a little pause--"My name is Pauline,
+and my father is the Baron. I heard him tell my mother all about thee,
+and so I wanted to come here and see thee myself: Art thou sick?"
+
+"Yes," said Otto, "I am sick."
+
+"And did my father hurt thee?"
+
+"Aye," said Otto, and his eyes filled with tears, until one sparkling
+drop trickled slowly down his white face.
+
+Little Pauline stood looking seriously at him for a while. "I am sorry
+for thee, Otto," said she, at last. And then, at her childish pity, he
+began crying in earnest.
+
+This was only the first visit of many from the little maid, for after
+that she often came to Otto's prison, who began to look for her coming
+from day to day as the one bright spot in the darkness and the gloom.
+
+Sitting upon the edge of his bed and gazing into his face with wide open
+eyes, she would listen to him by the hour, as he told her of his life in
+that far away monastery home; of poor, simple brother John's wonderful
+visions, of the good Abbot's books with their beautiful pictures, and of
+all the monkish tales and stories of knights and dragons and heroes and
+emperors of ancient Rome, which brother Emmanuel had taught him to read
+in the crabbed monkish Latin in which they were written.
+
+One day the little maid sat for a long while silent after he had ended
+speaking. At last she drew a deep breath. "And are all these things that
+thou tellest me about the priests in their castle really true?" said
+she.
+
+"Yes," said Otto, "all are true."
+
+"And do they never go out to fight other priests?"
+
+"No," said Otto, "they know nothing of fighting."
+
+"So!" said she. And then fell silent in the thought of the wonder of
+it all, and that there should be men in the world that knew nothing of
+violence and bloodshed; for in all the eight years of her life she had
+scarcely been outside of the walls of Castle Trutz-Drachen.
+
+At another time it was of Otto's mother that they were speaking.
+
+"And didst thou never see her, Otto?" said the little girl.
+
+"Aye," said Otto, "I see her sometimes in my dreams, and her face always
+shines so bright that I know she is an angel; for brother John has often
+seen the dear angels, and he tells me that their faces always shine in
+that way. I saw her the night thy father hurt me so, for I could not
+sleep and my head felt as though it would break asunder. Then she
+came and leaned over me and kissed my forehead, and after that I fell
+asleep."
+
+"But where did she come from, Otto?" said the little girl.
+
+"From paradise, I think," said Otto, with that patient seriousness that
+he had caught from the monks, and that sat so quaintly upon him.
+
+"So!" said little Pauline; and then, after a pause, "That is why thy
+mother kissed thee when thy head ached--because she is an angel. When
+I was sick my mother bade Gretchen carry me to a far part of the house,
+because I cried and so troubled her. Did thy mother ever strike thee,
+Otto?"
+
+"Nay," said Otto.
+
+"Mine hath often struck me," said Pauline.
+
+One day little Pauline came bustling into Otto's cell, her head full of
+the news which she carried. "My father says that thy father is out
+in the woods somewhere yonder, back of the castle, for Fritz, the
+swineherd, told my father that last night he had seen a fire in the
+woods, and that he had crept up to it without anyone knowing. There he
+had seen the Baron Conrad and six of his men, and that they were eating
+one of the swine that they had killed and roasted. Maybe," said she,
+seating herself upon the edge of Otto's couch; "maybe my father will
+kill thy father, and they will bring him here and let him lie upon a
+black bed with bright candles burning around him, as they did my uncle
+Frederick when he was killed."
+
+"God forbid!" said Otto, and then lay for a while with his hands
+clasped. "Dost thou love me, Pauline?" said he, after a while.
+
+"Yes," said Pauline, "for thou art a good child, though my father says
+that thy wits are cracked."
+
+"Mayhap they are," said Otto, simply, "for I have often been told so
+before. But thou wouldst not see me die, Pauline; wouldst thou?"
+
+"Nay," said Pauline, "I would not see thee die, for then thou couldst
+tell me no more stories; for they told me that uncle Frederick could not
+speak because he was dead."
+
+"Then listen, Pauline," said Otto; "if I go not away from here I shall
+surely die. Every day I grow more sick and the leech cannot cure me."
+Here he broke down and, turning his face upon the couch, began crying,
+while little Pauline sat looking seriously at him.
+
+"Why dost thou cry, Otto?" said she, after a while.
+
+"Because," said he, "I am so sick, and I want my father to come and take
+me away from here."
+
+"But why dost thou want to go away?" said Pauline. "If thy father takes
+thee away, thou canst not tell me any more stories."
+
+"Yes, I can," said Otto, "for when I grow to be a man I will come
+again and marry thee, and when thou art my wife I can tell thee all the
+stories that I know. Dear Pauline, canst thou not tell my father where I
+am, that he may come here and take me away before I die?"
+
+"Mayhap I could do so," said Pauline, after a little while, "for
+sometimes I go with Casper Max to see his mother, who nursed me when I
+was a baby. She is the wife of Fritz, the swineherd, and she will make
+him tell thy father; for she will do whatever I ask of her, and Fritz
+will do whatever she bids him do."
+
+"And for my sake, wilt thou tell him, Pauline?" said Otto.
+
+"But see, Otto," said the little girl, "if I tell him, wilt thou promise
+to come indeed and marry me when thou art grown a man?"
+
+"Yes," said Otto, very seriously, "I will promise."
+
+"Then I will tell thy father where thou art," said she.
+
+"But thou wilt do it without the Baron Henry knowing, wilt thou not,
+Pauline?"
+
+"Yes," said she, "for if my father and my mother knew that I did such
+a thing, they would strike me, mayhap send me to my bed alone in the
+dark."
+
+
+
+
+IX. How One-eyed Hans came to Trutz-Drachen.
+
+Fritz, the swineherd, sat eating his late supper of porridge out of a
+great, coarse, wooden bowl; wife Katherine sat at the other end of the
+table, and the half-naked little children played upon the earthen floor.
+A shaggy dog lay curled up in front of the fire, and a grunting pig
+scratched against a leg of the rude table close beside where the woman
+sat.
+
+"Yes, yes," said Katherine, speaking of the matter of which they had
+already been talking. "It is all very true that the Drachenhausens are a
+bad lot, and I for one am of no mind to say no to that; all the same it
+is a sad thing that a simple-witted little child like the young Baron
+should be so treated as the boy has been; and now that our Lord Baron
+has served him so that he, at least, will never be able to do us 'harm,
+I for one say that he should not be left there to die alone in that
+black cell."
+
+Fritz, the swineherd, gave a grunt at this without raising his eyes from
+the bowl.
+
+"Yes, good," said Katherine, "I know what thou meanest, Fritz, and that
+it is none of my business to be thrusting my finger into the Baron's
+dish. But to hear the way that dear little child spoke when she was here
+this morn--it would have moved a heart of stone to hear her tell of all
+his pretty talk. Thou wilt try to let the red-beard know that that poor
+boy, his son, is sick to death in the black cell; wilt thou not, Fritz?"
+
+The swineherd dropped his wooden spoon into the bowl with a clatter.
+"Potstausand!" he cried; "art thou gone out of thy head to let thy wits
+run upon such things as this of which thou talkest to me? If it should
+come to our Lord Baron's ears he would cut the tongue from out thy head
+and my head from off my shoulders for it. Dost thou think I am going to
+meddle in such a matter as this? Listen! these proud Baron folk, with
+their masterful ways, drive our sort hither and thither; they beat us,
+they drive us, they kill us as they choose. Our lives are not as much
+to them as one of my black swine. Why should I trouble my head if they
+choose to lop and trim one another? The fewer there are of them the
+better for us, say I. We poor folk have a hard enough life of it without
+thrusting our heads into the noose to help them out of their troubles.
+What thinkest thou would happen to us if Baron Henry should hear of our
+betraying his affairs to the Red-beard?"
+
+"Nay," said Katherine, "thou hast naught to do in the matter but to tell
+the Red-beard in what part of the castle the little Baron lies."
+
+"And what good would that do?" said Fritz, the swineherd.
+
+"I know not," said Katherine, "but I have promised the little one that
+thou wouldst find the Baron Conrad and tell him that much."
+
+"Thou hast promised a mare's egg," said her husband, angrily. "How shall
+I find the Baron Conrad to bear a message to him, when our Baron has
+been looking for him in vain for two days past?"
+
+"Thou has found him once and thou mayst find him again," said Katherine,
+"for it is not likely that he will keep far away from here whilst his
+boy is in such sore need of help."
+
+"I will have nothing to do with it!" said Fritz, and he got up from the
+wooden block whereon he was sitting and stumped out of the house. But,
+then, Katherine had heard him talk in that way before, and knew, in
+spite of his saying "no," that, sooner or later, he would do as she
+wished.
+
+Two days later a very stout little one-eyed man, clad in a leathern
+jerkin and wearing a round leathern cap upon his head, came toiling up
+the path to the postern door of Trutz-Drachen, his back bowed under the
+burthen of a great peddler's pack. It was our old friend the one-eyed
+Hans, though even his brother would hardly have known him in his present
+guise, for, besides having turned peddler, he had grown of a sudden
+surprisingly fat.
+
+Rap-tap-tap! He knocked at the door with a knotted end of the crooked
+thorned staff upon which he leaned. He waited for a while and then
+knocked again--rap-tap-tap!
+
+Presently, with a click, a little square wicket that pierced the door
+was opened, and a woman's face peered out through the iron bars.
+
+The one-eyed Hans whipped off his leathern cap.
+
+"Good day, pretty one," said he, "and hast thou any need of glass beads,
+ribbons, combs, or trinkets? Here I am come all the way from Gruenstadt,
+with a pack full of such gay things as thou never laid eyes on before.
+Here be rings and bracelets and necklaces that might be of pure silver
+and set with diamonds and rubies, for anything that thy dear one could
+tell if he saw thee decked in them. And all are so cheap that thou hast
+only to say, 'I want them,' and they are thine."
+
+The frightened face at the window looked from right to left and from
+left to right. "Hush," said the girl, and laid her finger upon her lips.
+"There! thou hadst best get away from here, poor soul, as fast as thy
+legs can carry thee, for if the Lord Baron should find thee here talking
+secretly at the postern door, he would loose the wolf-hounds upon thee."
+
+"Prut," said one-eyed Hans, with a grin, "the Baron is too big a fly to
+see such a little gnat as I; but wolf-hounds or no wolf-hounds, I
+can never go hence without showing thee the pretty things that I have
+brought from the town, even though my stay be at the danger of my own
+hide."
+
+He flung the pack from off his shoulders as he spoke and fell to
+unstrapping it, while the round face of the lass (her eyes big with
+curiosity) peered down at him through the grated iron bars.
+
+Hans held up a necklace of blue and white beads that glistened like
+jewels in the sun, and from them hung a gorgeous filigree cross. "Didst
+thou ever see a sweeter thing than this?" said he; "and look, here is a
+comb that even the silversmith would swear was pure silver all the way
+through." Then, in a soft, wheedling voice, "Canst thou not let me in,
+my little bird? Sure there are other lasses besides thyself who would
+like to trade with a poor peddler who has travelled all the way from
+Gruenstadt just to please the pretty ones of Trutz-Drachen."
+
+"Nay," said the lass, in a frightened voice, "I cannot let thee in; I
+know not what the Baron would do to me, even now, if he knew that I was
+here talking to a stranger at the postern;" and she made as if she would
+clap to the little window in his face; but the one-eyed Hans thrust his
+staff betwixt the bars and so kept the shutter open.
+
+"Nay, nay," said he, eagerly, "do not go away from me too soon. Look,
+dear one; seest thou this necklace?"
+
+"Aye," said she, looking hungrily at it.
+
+"Then listen; if thou wilt but let me into the castle, so that I may
+strike a trade, I will give it to thee for thine own without thy paying
+a barley corn for it."
+
+The girl looked and hesitated, and then looked again; the temptation was
+too great. There was a noise of softly drawn bolts and bars, the door
+was hesitatingly opened a little way, and, in a twinkling, the one-eyed
+Hans had slipped inside the castle, pack and all.
+
+"The necklace," said the girl, in a frightened whisper.
+
+Hans thrust it into her hand. "It's thine," said he, "and now wilt thou
+not help me to a trade?"
+
+"I will tell my sister that thou art here," said she, and away she ran
+from the little stone hallway, carefully bolting and locking the further
+door behind her.
+
+The door that the girl had locked was the only one that connected the
+postern hail with the castle.
+
+The one-eyed Hans stood looking after her. "Thou fool!" he muttered to
+himself, "to lock the door behind thee. What shall I do next, I should
+like to know? Here am I just as badly off as I was when I stood outside
+the walls. Thou hussy! If thou hadst but let me into the castle for only
+two little minutes, I would have found somewhere to have hidden myself
+while thy back was turned. But what shall I do now?" He rested his pack
+upon the floor and stood looking about him.
+
+Built in the stone wall opposite to him, was a high, narrow fireplace
+without carving of any sort. As Hans' one eye wandered around the bare
+stone space, his glance fell at last upon it, and there it rested. For
+a while he stood looking intently at it, presently he began rubbing his
+hand over his bristling chin in a thoughtful, meditative manner. Finally
+he drew a deep breath, and giving himself a shake as though to arouse
+himself from his thoughts, and after listening a moment or two to
+make sure that no one was nigh, he walked softly to the fireplace, and
+stooping, peered up the chimney. Above him yawned a black cavernous
+depth, inky with the soot of years. Hans straightened himself, and
+tilting his leathern cap to one side, began scratching his bullet-head;
+at last he drew a long breath. "Yes, good," he muttered to himself; "he
+who jumps into the river must e'en swim the best he can. It is a vile,
+dirty place to thrust one's self; but I am in for it now, and must make
+the best of a lame horse."
+
+He settled the cap more firmly upon his head, spat upon his hands, and
+once more stooping in the fireplace, gave a leap, and up the chimney he
+went with a rattle of loose mortar and a black trickle of soot.
+
+By and by footsteps sounded outside the door. There was a pause; a
+hurried whispering of women's voices; the twitter of a nervous laugh,
+and then the door was pushed softly opens and the girl to whom the
+one-eyed Hans had given the necklace of blue and white beads with the
+filigree cross hanging from it, peeped uncertainly into the room. Behind
+her broad, heavy face were three others, equally homely and stolid; for
+a while all four stood there, looking blankly into the room and around
+it. Nothing was there but the peddler's knapsack lying in the middle of
+the floor-the man was gone. The light of expectancy slowly faded Out of
+the girl's face, and in its place succeeded first bewilderment and then
+dull alarm. "But, dear heaven," she said, "where then has the peddler
+man gone?"
+
+A moment or two of silence followed her speech. "Perhaps," said one of
+the others, in a voice hushed with awe, "perhaps it was the evil one
+himself to whom thou didst open the door."
+
+Again there was a hushed and breathless pause; it was the lass who had
+let Hans in at the postern, who next spoke.
+
+"Yes," said she, in a voice trembling with fright at what she had done,
+"yes, it must have been the evil one, for now I remember he had but one
+eye." The four girls crossed themselves, and their eyes grew big and
+round with the fright.
+
+Suddenly a shower of mortar came rattling down the chimney. "Ach!" cried
+the four, as with one voice. Bang! the door was clapped to and away they
+scurried like a flock of frightened rabbits.
+
+When Jacob, the watchman, came that way an hour later, upon his evening
+round of the castle, he found a peddler's knapsack lying in the middle
+of the floor. He turned it over with his pike-staff and saw that it was
+full of beads and trinkets and ribbons.
+
+"How came this here?" said he. And then, without waiting for the answer
+which he did not expect, he flung it over his shoulder and marched away
+with it.
+
+
+
+
+X. How Hans Brought Terror to the Kitchen.
+
+Hans found himself in a pretty pickle in the chimney, for the soot got
+into his one eye and set it to watering, and into his nose and set him
+to sneezing, and into his mouth and his ears and his hair. But still
+he struggled on, up and up; "for every chimney has a top," said Hans
+to himself "and I am sure to climb out somewhere or other." Suddenly he
+came to a place where another chimney joined the one he was climbing,
+and here he stopped to consider the matter at his leisure. "See now," he
+muttered, "if I still go upward I may come out at the top of some tall
+chimney-stack with no way of getting down outside. Now, below here
+there must be a fire-place somewhere, for a chimney does not start from
+nothing at all; yes, good! we will go down a while and see what we make
+of that."
+
+It was a crooked, zigzag road that he had to travel, and rough and hard
+into the bargain. His one eye tingled and smarted, and his knees and
+elbows were rubbed to the quick; nevertheless One-eyed Hans had been in
+worse trouble than this in his life.
+
+Down he went and down he went, further than he had climbed upward
+before. "Sure, I must be near some place or other," he thought.
+
+As though in instant answer to his thoughts, he heard the sudden sound
+of a voice so close beneath him that he stopped short in his downward
+climbing and stood as still as a mouse, with his heart in his mouth.
+A few inches more and he would have been discovered;--what would have
+happened then would have been no hard matter to foretell.
+
+Hans braced his back against one side of the chimney, his feet against
+the other and then, leaning forward, looked down between his knees. The
+gray light of the coming evening glimmered in a wide stone fireplace
+just below him. Within the fireplace two people were moving about upon
+the broad hearth, a great, fat woman and a shock-headed boy. The woman
+held a spit with two newly trussed fowls upon it, so that One-eyed Hans
+knew that she must be the cook.
+
+"Thou ugly toad," said the woman to the boy, "did I not bid thee make a
+fire an hour ago? and now, here there is not so much as a spark to roast
+the fowls withall, and they to be basted for the lord Baron's supper.
+Where hast thou been for all this time?"
+
+"No matter," said the boy, sullenly, as he laid the fagots ready for the
+lighting; "no matter, I was not running after Long Jacob, the bowman, to
+try to catch him for a sweetheart, as thou hast been doing."
+
+The reply was instant and ready. The cook raised her hand; "smack!" she
+struck and a roar from the scullion followed.
+
+"Yes, good," thought Hans, as he looked down upon them; "I am glad that
+the boy's ear was not on my head."
+
+"Now give me no more of thy talk," said the woman, "but do the work
+that thou hast been bidden." Then--"How came all this black soot here, I
+should like to know?"
+
+"How should I know?" snuffled the scullion, "mayhap thou wouldst blame
+that on me also?"
+
+"That is my doing," whispered Hans to himself; "but if they light the
+fire, what then becomes of me?"
+
+"See now," said the cook; "I go to make the cakes ready; if I come back
+and find that thou hast not built the fire, I will warm thy other ear
+for thee."
+
+"So," thought Hans; "then will be my time to come down the chimney, for
+there will be but one of them."
+
+The next moment he heard the door close and knew that the cook had gone
+to make the cakes ready as she said. And as he looked down he saw that
+the boy was bending over the bundle of fagots, blowing the spark that
+he had brought in upon the punk into a flame. The dry fagots began to
+crackle and blaze. "Now is my time," said Hans to himself. Bracing his
+elbows against each side of the chimney, he straightened his legs so
+that he might fall clear His motions loosened little shower of soot that
+fell rattling upon the fagots that were now beginning to blaze brightly,
+whereupon the boy raised his face and looked up. Hans loosened his hold
+upon the chimney; crash! he fell, lighting upon his feet in the midst
+of the burning fagots. The scullion boy tumbled backward upon the floor,
+where he lay upon the broad of his back with a face as white as
+dough and eyes and mouth agape, staring speechlessly at the frightful
+inky-black figure standing in the midst of the flames and smoke. Then
+his scattered wits came back to him. "It is the evil one," he roared.
+And thereupon, turning upon his side, he half rolled, half scrambled to
+the door. Then out he leaped and, banging it to behind him, flew down
+the passageway, yelling with fright and never daring once to look behind
+him.
+
+All the time One-eyed Hans was brushing away the sparks that clung to
+his clothes. He was as black as ink from head to foot with the soot from
+the chimney.
+
+"So far all is good," he muttered to himself, "but if I go wandering
+about in my sooty shoes I will leave black tracks to follow me, so there
+is nothing to do but e'en to go barefoot."
+
+He stooped and drawing the pointed soft leather shoes from his feet, he
+threw them upon the now blazing fagots, where they writhed and twisted
+and wrinkled, and at last burst into a flame. Meanwhile Hans lost no
+time; he must find a hiding-place, and quickly, if he would yet hope
+to escape. A great bread trough stood in the corner of the kitchen--a
+hopper-shaped chest with a flat lid. It was the best hiding place that
+the room afforded. Without further thought Hans ran to it, snatching up
+from the table as he passed a loaf of black bread and a bottle half full
+of stale wine, for he had had nothing to eat since that morning. Into
+the great bread trough he climbed, and drawing the lid down upon him,
+curled himself up as snugly as a mouse in its nest.
+
+For a while the kitchen lay in silence, but at last the sound of voices
+was heard at the door, whispering together in low tones. Suddenly the
+door was flung open and a tall, lean, lantern-jawed fellow, clad in
+rough frieze, strode into the room and stood there glaring with half
+frightened boldness around about him; three or four women and the
+trembling scullion crowded together in a frightened group behind him.
+
+The man was Long Jacob, the bowman; but, after all, his boldness was
+all wasted, for not a thread or a hair was to be seen, but only the
+crackling fire throwing its cheerful ruddy glow upon the wall of the
+room, now rapidly darkening in the falling gray of the twilight without.
+
+The fat cook's fright began rapidly to turn into anger.
+
+"Thou imp," she cried, "it is one of thy tricks," and she made a dive
+for the scullion, who ducked around the skirts of one of the other women
+and so escaped for the time; but Long Jacob wrinkled up his nose and
+sniffed. "Nay," said he, "me thinks that there lieth some truth in the
+tale that the boy hath told, for here is a vile smell of burned horn
+that the black one bath left behind him."
+
+It was the smell from the soft leather shoes that Hans had burned.
+
+The silence of night had fallen over the Castle of Trutz-Drachen; not
+a sound was heard but the squeaking of mice scurring behind the
+wainscoting, the dull dripping of moisture from the eaves, or the
+sighing of the night wind around the gables and through the naked
+windows of the castle.
+
+The lid of the great dough trough was softly raised, and a face, black
+with soot, peeped cautiously out from under it. Then little by little
+arose a figure as black as the face; and One-eyed Hans stepped out upon
+the floor, stretching and rubbing himself.
+
+"Methinks I must have slept," he muttered. "Hui, I am as stiff as a new
+leather doublet, and now, what next is to become of me? I hope my luck
+may yet stick to me, in spite of this foul black soot!"
+
+Along the middle of the front of the great hall of the castle, ran a
+long stone gallery, opening at one end upon the court-yard by a high
+flight of stone steps. A man-at-arms in breast-plate and steel cap, and
+bearing a long pike, paced up and down the length of this gallery, now
+and then stopping, leaning over the edge, and gazing up into the starry
+sky above; then, with a long drawn yawn, lazily turning back to the
+monotonous watch again.
+
+A dark figure crept out from an arched doorway at the lower part of the
+long straight building, and some little distance below the end gallery,
+but the sentry saw nothing of it, for his back was turned. As silently
+and as stealthily as a cat the figure crawled along by the dark shadowy
+wall, now and then stopping, and then again creeping slowly forward
+toward the gallery where the man-at-arms moved monotonously up and down.
+It was One-eyed Hans in his bare feet.
+
+Inch by inch, foot by foot--the black figure crawled along in the angle
+of the wall; inch by inch and foot by foot, but ever nearer and nearer
+to the long straight row of stone steps that led to the covered gallery.
+At last it crouched at the lowest step of the flight. Just then the
+sentinel upon watch came to the very end of the gallery and stood there
+leaning upon his spear. Had he looked down below he could not have
+failed to have seen One-eyed Hans lying there motionlessly; but he was
+gazing far away over the steep black roofs beyond, and never saw the
+unsuspected presence. Minute after minute passed, and the one stood
+there looking out into the night and the other lay crouching by the
+wall; then with a weary sigh the sentry turned and began slowly pacing
+back again toward the farther end of the gallery.
+
+Instantly the motionless figure below arose and glided noiselessly and
+swiftly up the flight of steps.
+
+Two rude stone pillars flanked either side of the end of the gallery.
+Like a shadow the black figure slipped behind one of these, flattening
+itself up against the wall, where it stood straight and motionless as
+the shadows around it.
+
+Down the long gallery came the watchman, his sword clinking loudly in
+the silence as he walked, tramp, tramp, tramp! clink, clank, jingle.
+
+Within three feet of the motionless figure behind the pillar he turned,
+and began retracing his monotonous steps. Instantly the other left the
+shadow of the post and crept rapidly and stealthily after him. One step,
+two steps the sentinel took; for a moment the black figure behind him
+seemed to crouch and draw together, then like a flash it leaped forward
+upon its victim.
+
+A shadowy cloth fell upon the man's face, and in an instant he was flung
+back and down with a muffled crash upon the stones. Then followed a
+fierce and silent struggle in the darkness, but strong and sturdy as the
+man was, he was no match for the almost superhuman strength of One-eyed
+Hans. The cloth which he had flung over his head was tied tightly and
+securely. Then the man was forced upon his face and, in spite of his
+fierce struggles, his arms were bound around and around with strong fine
+cord; next his feet were bound in the same way, and the task was done.
+Then Hans stood upon his feet, and wiped the sweat from his swarthy
+forehead. "Listen, brother," he whispered, and as he spoke he stooped
+and pressed something cold and hard against the neck of the other.
+"Dost thou know the feel of this? It is a broad dagger, and if thou
+dost contrive to loose that gag from thy mouth and makest any outcry, it
+shall be sheathed in thy weasand."
+
+So saying, he thrust the knife back again into its sheath, then stooping
+and picking up the other, he flung him across his shoulder like a sack,
+and running down the steps as lightly as though his load was nothing at
+all, he carried his burden to the arched doorway whence he had come a
+little while before. There, having first stripped his prisoner of
+all his weapons, Hans sat the man up in the angle of the wall. "So,
+brother;" said he, "now we can talk with more ease than we could up
+yonder. I will tell thee frankly why I am here; it is to find where the
+young Baron Otto of Drachenhausen is kept. If thou canst tell me,
+well and good; if not, I must e'en cut thy weasand and find me one who
+knoweth more. Now, canst thou tell me what I would learn, brother?"
+
+The other nodded dimly in the darkness.
+
+"That is good," said Hans, "then I will loose thy gag until thou hast
+told me; only bear in mind what I said concerning my dagger."
+
+Thereupon, he unbound his prisoner, and the fellow slowly rose to his
+feet. He shook himself and looked all about him in a heavy, bewildered
+fashion, as though he had just awakened from a dream.
+
+His right hand slid furtively down to his side, but the dagger-sheath
+was empty.
+
+"Come, brother!" said Hans, impatiently, "time is passing, and once lost
+can never be found again. Show me the way to the young Baron Otto or--."
+And he whetted the shining blade of his dagger on his horny palm.
+
+The fellow needed no further bidding; turning, he led the way, and
+together they were swallowed up in the yawning shadows, and again the
+hush of night-time lay upon the Castle of Trutz-Drachen.
+
+
+
+
+XI. How Otto was Saved.
+
+Little Otto was lying upon the hard couch in his cell, tossing in
+restless and feverish sleep; suddenly a heavy hand was laid upon him and
+a voice whispered in his ear, "Baron, Baron Otto, waken, rouse yourself;
+I am come to help you. I am One-eyed Hans."
+
+Otto was awake in an instant and raised himself upon his elbow in the
+darkness. "One-eyed Hans," he breathed, "One-eyed Hans; who is One-eyed
+Hans?"
+
+"True," said the other, "thou dost not know me. I am thy father's
+trusted servant, and am the only one excepting his own blood and kin
+who has clung to him in this hour of trouble. Yes, all are gone but me
+alone, and so I have come to help thee away from this vile place."
+
+"Oh, dear, good Hans! if only thou canst!" cried Otto; "if only thou
+canst take me away from this wicked place. Alas, dear Hans! I am weary
+and sick to death." And poor little Otto began to weep silently in the
+darkness.
+
+"Aye, aye," said Hans, gruffly, "it is no place for a little child
+to be. Canst thou climb, my little master? canst thou climb a knotted
+rope?"
+
+"Nay," said Otto, "I can never climb again! See, Hans;" and he flung
+back the covers from off him.
+
+"I cannot see," said Hans, "it is too dark."
+
+"Then feel, dear Hans," said Otto.
+
+Hans bent over the poor little white figure glimmering palely in the
+darkness. Suddenly he drew back with a snarl like an angry wolf. "Oh!
+the black, bloody wretches!" he cried, hoarsely; "and have they done
+that to thee, a little child?"
+
+"Yes," said Otto, "the Baron Henry did it." And then again he began to
+cry.
+
+"There, there," said Hans, roughly, "weep no more. Thou shalt get away
+from here even if thou canst not climb; I myself will help thee. Thy
+father is already waiting below the window here, and thou shalt soon be
+with him. There, there, cry no more."
+
+While he was speaking Hans had stripped off his peddler's leathern
+jacket, and there, around his body, was wrapped coil after coil of stout
+hempen rope tied in knots at short distances. He began unwinding the
+rope, and when he had done he was as thin as ever he had been before.
+Next he drew from the pouch that hung at his side a ball of fine cord
+and a leaden weight pierced by a hole, both of which he had brought with
+him for the use to which he now put them. He tied the lead to the end of
+the cord, then whirling the weight above his head, he flung it up toward
+the window high above. Twice the piece of lead fell back again into the
+room; the third time it flew out between the iron bars carrying the cord
+with it. Hans held the ball in his hand and paid out the string as the
+weight carried it downward toward the ground beneath. Suddenly the cord
+stopped running. Hans jerked it and shook it, but it moved no farther.
+"Pray heaven, little child," said he, "that it hath reached the ground,
+for if it hath not we are certainly lost."
+
+"I do pray," said Otto, and he bowed his head.
+
+Then, as though in answer to his prayer, there came a twitch upon the
+cord.
+
+"See," said Hans, "they have heard thee up above in heaven; it was thy
+father who did that." Quickly and deftly he tied the cord to the end of
+the knotted rope; then he gave an answering jerk upon the string. The
+next moment the rope was drawn up to the window and down the outside by
+those below. Otto lay watching the rope as it crawled up to the window
+and out into the night like a great snake, while One-eyed Hans held the
+other end lest it should be drawn too far. At last it stopped. "Good,"
+muttered Hans, as though to himself. "The rope is long enough."
+
+He waited for a few minutes and then, drawing upon the rope and finding
+that it was held from below, he spat upon his hands and began slowly
+climbing up to the window above. Winding his arm around the iron bars of
+the grating that guarded it, he thrust his hand into the pouch that hung
+by his side, and drawing forth a file, fell to work cutting through all
+that now lay between Otto and liberty.
+
+It was slow, slow work, and it seemed to Otto as though Hans would never
+finish his task, as lying upon his hard couch he watched that figure,
+black against the sky, bending over its work. Now and then the file
+screeched against the hard iron, and then Hans would cease for a moment,
+but only to begin again as industriously as ever. Three or four times he
+tried the effects of his work, but still the iron held. At last he
+set his shoulder against it, and as Otto looked he saw the iron bend.
+Suddenly there was a sharp crack, and a piece of the grating went flying
+out into the night.
+
+Hans tied the rope securely about the stump of the stout iron bar that
+yet remained, and then slid down again into the room below.
+
+"My little lord," said he, "dost thou think that if I carry thee, thou
+wilt be able and strong enough to cling to my neck?"
+
+"Aye," said Otto, "methinks I will be able to do that."
+
+"Then come," said Hans.
+
+He stooped as he spoke, and gently lifting Otto from his rude and rugged
+bed he drew his broad leathern belt around them both, buckling it firmly
+and securely. "It does not hurt thee?" said he.
+
+"Not much," whispered Otto faintly.
+
+Then Hans spat upon his hands, and began slowly climbing the rope.
+
+They reached the edge of the window and there they rested for a moment,
+and Otto renewed his hold around the neck of the faithful Hans.
+
+"And now art thou ready?" said Hans
+
+"Aye," said Otto.
+
+"Then courage," said Hans, and he turned and swung his leg over the
+abyss below.
+
+The next moment they were hanging in mid-air.
+
+Otto looked down and gave a gasp. "The mother of heaven bless us," he
+whispered, and then closed his eyes, faint and dizzy at the sight of
+that sheer depth beneath. Hans said nothing, but shutting his teeth
+and wrapping his legs around the rope, he began slowly descending, hand
+under hand. Down, down, down he went, until to Otto, with his eyes shut
+and his head leaning upon Hans' shoulder, it seemed as though it could
+never end. Down, down, down. Suddenly he felt Hans draw a deep breath;
+there was a slight jar, and Otto opened his eyes; Hans was standing upon
+the ground.
+
+A figure wrapped in a dark cloak arose from the shadow of the wall, and
+took Otto in its arms. It was Baron Conrad.
+
+"My son--my little child!" he cried, in a choked, trembling voice, and
+that was all. And Otto pressed his cheek against his father's and began
+crying.
+
+Suddenly the Baron gave a sharp, fierce cry. "Dear Heaven!" he cried;
+"what have they done to thee?" But poor little Otto could not answer.
+
+"Oh!" gasped the Baron, in a strangled voice, "my little child! my
+little child!" And therewith he broke down, and his whole body shook
+with fierce, dry sobs; for men in those days did not seek to hide their
+grief as they do now, but were fierce and strong in the expression of
+that as of all else.
+
+"Never mind, dear father," whispered Otto; "it did not hurt me so very
+much," and he pressed his lips against his father's cheek.
+
+Little Otto had but one hand.
+
+
+
+
+XII. A Ride For Life.
+
+But not yet was Otto safe, and all danger past and gone by. Suddenly, as
+they stood there, the harsh clangor of a bell broke the silence of
+the starry night above their heads, and as they raised their faces and
+looked up, they saw lights flashing from window to window. Presently
+came the sound of a hoarse voice shouting something that, from the
+distance, they could not understand.
+
+One-eyed Hans smote his hand upon his thigh. Look said he, "here is
+what comes of having a soft heart in one's bosom. I overcame and bound a
+watchman up yonder, and forced him to tell me where our young Baron lay.
+It was on my mind to run my knife into him after he had told me every
+thing, but then, bethinking how the young Baron hated the thought of
+bloodshed, I said to myself, 'No, Hans, I will spare the villain's
+life.' See now what comes of being merciful; here, by hook or by crook,
+the fellow has loosed himself from his bonds, and brings the whole
+castle about our ears like a nest of wasps."
+
+"We must fly," said the Baron; "for nothing else in the world is
+left me, now that all have deserted me in this black time of trouble,
+excepting these six faithful ones."
+
+His voice was bitter, bitter, as he spoke; then stooping, he raised Otto
+in his arms, and bearing him gently, began rapidly descending the rocky
+slope to the level road that ran along the edge of the hill beneath.
+Close behind him followed the rest; Hans still grimed with soot and in
+his bare feet. A little distance from the road and under the shade of
+the forest trees, seven horses stood waiting. The Baron mounted upon
+his great black charger, seating little Otto upon the saddle in front of
+him. "Forward!" he cried, and away they clattered and out upon the road.
+Then--"To St. Michaelsburg," said Baron Conrad, in his deep voice, and
+the horses' heads were turned to the westward, and away they galloped
+through the black shadows of the forest, leaving Trutz-Drachen behind
+them.
+
+But still the sound of the alarm bell rang through the beating of the
+horses' hoofs, and as Hans looked over his shoulder, he saw the light
+of torches flashing hither and thither along the outer walls in front of
+the great barbican.
+
+In Castle Trutz-Drachen all was confusion and uproar: flashing torches
+lit up the dull gray walls; horses neighed and stamped, and men shouted
+and called to one another in the bustle of making ready. Presently Baron
+Henry came striding along the corridor clad in light armor, which he had
+hastily donned when roused from his sleep by the news that his prisoner
+had escaped. Below in the courtyard his horse was standing, and without
+waiting for assistance, he swung himself into the saddle. Then away they
+all rode and down the steep path, armor ringing, swords clanking, and
+iron-shod hoofs striking sparks of fire from the hard stones. At their
+head rode Baron Henry; his triangular shield hung over his shoulder, and
+in his hand he bore a long, heavy, steel-pointed lance with a pennant
+flickering darkly from the end.
+
+At the high-road at the base of the slope they paused, for they were at
+a loss to know which direction the fugitives had taken; a half a score
+of the retainers leaped from their horses, and began hurrying about
+hither and thither, and up and down, like hounds searching for the lost
+scent, and all the time Baron Henry sat still as a rock in the midst of
+the confusion.
+
+Suddenly a shout was raised from the forest just beyond the road; they
+had come upon the place where the horses had been tied. It was an easy
+matter to trace the way that Baron Conrad and his followers had taken
+thence back to the high-road, but there again they were at a loss. The
+road ran straight as an arrow eastward and westward--had the fugitives
+taken their way to the east or to the west?
+
+Baron Henry called his head-man, Nicholas Stein, to him, and the
+two spoke together for a while in an undertone. At last the Baron's
+lieutenant reined his horse back, and choosing first one and then
+another, divided the company into two parties. The baron placed himself
+at the head of one band and Nicholas Stein at the head of the other.
+"Forward!" he cried, and away clattered the two companies of horsemen in
+opposite directions.
+
+It was toward the westward that Baron Henry of Trutz-Drachen rode at the
+head of his men.
+
+The early springtide sun shot its rays of misty, yellow light across the
+rolling tops of the forest trees where the little birds were singing in
+the glory of the May morning. But Baron Henry and his followers thought
+nothing of the beauty of the peaceful day, and heard nothing of the
+multitudinous sound of the singing birds as, with a confused sound of
+galloping hoofs, they swept along the highway, leaving behind them a
+slow-curling, low-trailing cloud of dust.
+
+As the sun rose more full and warm, the misty wreaths began to dissolve,
+until at last they parted and rolled asunder like a white curtain and
+there, before the pursuing horsemen, lay the crest of the mountain
+toward which they were riding, and up which the road wound steeply.
+
+"Yonder they are," cried a sudden voice behind Baron Henry of
+Trutz-Drachen, and at the cry all looked upward.
+
+Far away upon the mountain-side curled a cloud of dust, from the midst
+of which came the star-like flash of burnished armor gleaming in the
+sun.
+
+Baron Henry said never a word, but his lips curled in a grim smile.
+
+And as the mist wreaths parted One-eyed Hans looked behind and down
+into the leafy valley beneath. "Yonder they come," said he. "They have
+followed sharply to gain so much upon us, even though our horses are
+wearied with all the travelling we have done hither and yon these five
+days past. How far is it, Lord Baron, from here to Michaelsburg?"
+
+"About ten leagues," said the Baron, in a gloomy voice.
+
+Hans puckered his mouth as though to whistle, but the Baron saw nothing
+of it, for he was gazing straight before him with a set and stony face.
+Those who followed him looked at one another, and the same thought was
+in the mind of each--how long would it be before those who pursued would
+close the distance between them?
+
+When that happened it meant death to one and all.
+
+They reached the crest of the hill, and down they dashed upon the other
+side; for there the road was smooth and level as it sloped away into the
+valley, but it was in dead silence that they rode. Now and then those
+who followed the Baron looked back over their shoulders. They had gained
+a mile upon their pursuers when the helmeted heads rose above the crest
+of the mountain, but what was the gain of a mile with a smooth road
+between them, and fresh horses to weary ones?
+
+On they rode and on they rode. The sun rose higher and higher, and
+hotter and hotter. There was no time to rest and water their panting
+horses. Only once, when they crossed a shallow stretch of water, the
+poor animals bent their heads and caught a few gulps from the cool
+stream, and the One-eyed Hans washed a part of the soot from his hands
+and face. On and on they rode; never once did the Baron Conrad move his
+head or alter that steadfast look as, gazing straight before him, he
+rode steadily forward along the endless stretch of road, with poor
+little Otto's yellow head and white face resting against his steel-clad
+shoulder--and St. Michaelsburg still eight leagues away.
+
+A little rise of ground lay before them, and as they climbed it, all,
+excepting the baron, turned their heads as with one accord and looked
+behind them. Then more than one heart failed, for through the leaves
+of the trees below, they caught the glint of armor of those who
+followed--not more than a mile away. The next moment they swept over the
+crest, and there, below them, lay the broad shining river, and nearer a
+tributary stream spanned by a rude, narrow, three-arched, stone bridge
+where the road crossed the deep, slow-moving water.
+
+Down the slope plodded the weary horses, and so to the bridge-head.
+
+"Halt," cried the baron suddenly, and drew rein.
+
+The others stood bewildered. What did he mean to do? He turned to Hans
+and his blue eyes shone like steel.
+
+"Hans," said he, in his deep voice, "thou hast served me long and truly;
+wilt thou for this one last time do my bidding?"
+
+"Aye," said Hans, briefly.
+
+"Swear it," said the Baron.
+
+"I swear it," said Hans, and he drew the sign of the cross upon his
+heart.
+
+"That is good," said the Baron, grimly. "Then take thou this child,
+and with the others ride with all the speed that thou canst to St.
+Michaelsburg. Give the child into the charge of the Abbot Otto. Tell
+him how that I have sworn fealty to the Emperor, and what I have gained
+thereby--my castle burnt, my people slain, and this poor, simple child,
+my only son, mutilated by my enemy.
+
+"And thou, my Lord Baron?" said Hans.
+
+"I will stay here," said the Baron, quietly, "and keep back those who
+follow as long as God will give me grace so to do."
+
+A murmur of remonstrance rose among the faithful few who were with
+him, two of whom were near of kin. But Conrad of Drachenhausen turned
+fiercely upon them.
+
+"How now," said he, "have I fallen so low in my troubles that even ye
+dare to raise your voices against me? By the good Heaven, I will begin
+my work here by slaying the first man who dares to raise word against
+my bidding." Then he turned from them. "Here, Hans," said he, "take the
+boy; and remember, knave, what thou hast sworn."
+
+He pressed Otto close to his breast in one last embrace. "My little
+child," he murmured, "try not to hate thy father when thou thinkest of
+him hereafter, even though he be hard and bloody as thou knowest."
+
+But with his suffering and weakness, little Otto knew nothing of what
+was passing; it was only as in a faint flickering dream that he lived in
+what was done around him.
+
+"Farewell, Otto," said the Baron, but Otto's lips only moved faintly in
+answer. His father kissed him upon either cheek. "Come, Hans," said
+he, hastily, "take him hence;" and he loosed Otto's arms from about his
+neck.
+
+Hans took Otto upon the saddle in front of him.
+
+"Oh! my dear Lord Baron," said he, and then stopped with a gulp, and
+turned his grotesquely twitching face aside.
+
+"Go," said the Baron, harshly, "there is no time to lose in woman's
+tears."
+
+"Farewell, Conrad! farewell, Conrad!" said his two kinsmen, and coming
+forward they kissed him upon the cheek then they turned and rode away
+after Hans, and Baron Conrad was left alone to face his mortal foe.
+
+
+
+
+XIII. How Baron Conrad Held the Bridge.
+
+As the last of his followers swept around the curving road and was lost
+to sight, Baron Conrad gave himself a shake, as though to drive away the
+thoughts that lay upon him. Then he rode slowly forward to the middle of
+the bridge, where he wheeled his horse so as to face his coming enemies.
+He lowered the vizor of his helmet and bolted it to its place, and then
+saw that sword and dagger were loose in the scabbard and easy to draw
+when the need for drawing should arise.
+
+
+Down the steep path from the hill above swept the pursuing horsemen.
+Down the steep path to the bridge-head and there drew rein; for in the
+middle of the narrow way sat the motionless, steel-clad figure upon the
+great war-horse, with wide, red, panting nostrils, and body streaked
+with sweat and flecked with patches of foam.
+
+One side of the roadway of the bridge was guarded by a low stone wall;
+the other side was naked and open and bare to the deep, slow-moving
+water beneath. It was a dangerous place to attack a desperate man clad
+in armor of proof.
+
+"Forward!" cried Baron Henry, but not a soul stirred in answer, and
+still the iron-clad figure sat motionless and erect upon the panting
+horse.
+
+"How," cried the Baron Henry, "are ye afraid of one man? Then follow
+me!" and he spurred forward to the bridge-head. But still no one moved
+in answer, and the Lord of Trutz-Drachen reined back his horse again.
+He wheeled his horse and glared round upon the stolid faces of his
+followers, until his eyes seemed fairly to blaze with passion beneath
+the bars of his vizor.
+
+Baron Conrad gave a roar of laughter. "How now," he cried; "are ye all
+afraid of one man? Is there none among ye that dares come forward and
+meet me? I know thee, Baron Henry thou art not afraid to cut off the
+hand of a little child. Hast thou not now the courage to face the
+father?"
+
+Baron Henry gnashed his teeth with rage as he glared around upon the
+faces of his men-at-arms. Suddenly his eye lit upon one of them. "Ha!
+Carl Spigler," he cried, "thou hast thy cross-bow with thee;--shoot me
+down yonder dog! Nay," he said, "thou canst do him no harm under his
+armor; shoot the horse upon which he sits."
+
+Baron Conrad heard the speech. "Oh! thou coward villain!" he cried,
+"stay; do not shoot the good horse. I will dismount and fight ye upon
+foot." Thereupon, armed as he was, he leaped clashing from his horse and
+turning the animal's head, gave it a slap upon the flank. The good horse
+first trotted and then walked to the further end of the bridge, where it
+stopped and began cropping at the grass that grew beside the road.
+
+"Now then!" cried Baron Henry, fiercely, "now then, ye cannot fear him,
+villains! Down with him! forward!"
+
+Slowly the troopers spurred their horses forward upon the bridge and
+toward that one figure that, grasping tightly the great two-handed
+sword, stood there alone guarding the passage.
+
+Then Baron Conrad whirled the great blade above his head, until it
+caught the sunlight and flashed again. He did not wait for the attack,
+but when the first of the advancing horsemen had come within a few feet
+of him, he leaped with a shout upon them. The fellow thrust at him with
+his lance, and the Baron went staggering a few feet back, but instantly
+he recovered himself and again leaped forward. The great sword flashed
+in the air, whistling; it fell, and the nearest man dropped his lance,
+clattering, and with a loud, inarticulate cry, grasped the mane of his
+horse with both hands. Again the blade whistled in the air, and this
+time it was stained with red. Again it fell, and with another shrill cry
+the man toppled headlong beneath the horse's feet. The next instant they
+were upon him, each striving to strike at the one figure, to ride him
+down, or to thrust him down with their lances. There was no room now to
+swing the long blade, but holding the hilt in both hands, Baron Conrad
+thrust with it as though it were a lance, stabbing at horse or man, it
+mattered not. Crowded upon the narrow roadway of the bridge, those who
+attacked had not only to guard themselves against the dreadful strokes
+of that terrible sword, but to keep their wounded horses (rearing and
+mad with fright) from toppling bodily over with them into the water
+beneath.
+
+Presently the cry was raised, "Back! back!" And those nearest the Baron
+began reining in their horses. "Forward!" roared Baron Henry, from the
+midst of the crowd; but in spite of his command, and even the blows that
+he gave, those behind were borne back by those in front, struggling and
+shouting, and the bridge was cleared again excepting for three figures
+that lay motionless upon the roadway, and that one who, with the
+brightness of his armor dimmed and stained, leaned panting against the
+wall of the bridge.
+
+The Baron Henry raged like a madman. Gnashing his teeth together, he
+rode back a little way; then turning and couching his lance, he suddenly
+clapped spurs to his horse, and the next instant came thundering down
+upon his solitary enemy.
+
+Baron Conrad whirled his sword in the air, as he saw the other coming
+like a thunderbolt upon him; he leaped aside, and the lance passed close
+to him. As it passed he struck, and the iron point flew from the shaft
+of the spear at the blow, and fell clattering upon the stone roadway of
+the bridge.
+
+Baron Henry drew in his horse until it rested upon its haunches, then
+slowly reined it backward down the bridge, still facing his foe,
+and still holding the wooden stump of the lance in his hand. At the
+bridge-head he flung it from him.
+
+"Another lance!" he cried, hoarsely. One was silently reached to him
+and he took it, his hand trembling with rage. Again he rode to a little
+distance and wheeled his horse; then, driving his steel spurs into its
+quivering side, he came again thundering down upon the other. Once more
+the terrible sword whirled in the air and fell, but this time the lance
+was snatched to one side and the blow fell harmlessly. The next instant,
+and with a twitch of the bridle-rein, the horse struck full and fair
+against the man.
+
+Conrad of Drachenhausen was whirled backward and downward, and the cruel
+iron hoofs crashed over his prostrate body, as horse and man passed with
+a rush beyond him and to the bridge-head beyond. A shout went up from
+those who stood watching. The next moment the prostrate figure rose and
+staggered blindly to the side of the bridge, and stood leaning against
+the stone wall.
+
+At the further end of the bridge Baron Henry had wheeled his horse. Once
+again he couched lance, and again he drove down upon his bruised and
+wounded enemy. This time the lance struck full and fair, and those who
+watched saw the steel point pierce the iron breast-plate and then snap
+short, leaving the barbed point within the wound.
+
+Baron Conrad sunk to his knees and the Roderburg, looming upon his horse
+above him, unsheathed his sword to finish the work he had begun.
+
+Then those who stood looking on saw a wondrous thing happen: the wounded
+man rose suddenly to his feet, and before his enemy could strike he
+leaped, with a great and bitter cry of agony and despair, upon him as he
+sat in the saddle above.
+
+Henry of Trutz-Drachen grasped at his horse's mane, but the attack
+was so fierce, so sudden, and so unexpected that before he could save
+himself he was dragged to one side and fell crashing in his armor upon
+the stone roadway of the bridge.
+
+"The dragon! the dragon!" roared Baron Conrad, in a voice of thunder,
+and with the energy of despair he dragged his prostrate foe toward the
+open side of the bridge.
+
+"Forward!" cried the chief of the Trutz-Drachen men, and down they rode
+upon the struggling knights to the rescue of their master in this new
+danger. But they were too late.
+
+There was a pause at the edge of the bridge, for Baron Henry had gained
+his feet and, stunned and bewildered as he was by the suddenness of his
+fall, he was now struggling fiercely, desperately. For a moment they
+stood swaying backward and forward, clasped in one another's arms, the
+blood from the wounded man's breast staining the armor of both. The
+moment passed and then, with a shower of stones and mortar from beneath
+their iron-shod heels, they toppled and fell; there was a thunderous
+splash in the water below, and as the men-at-arms came hurrying up and
+peered with awe-struck faces over the parapet of the bridge, they saw
+the whirling eddies sweep down with the current of the stream, a few
+bubbles rise to the surface of the water, and then--nothing; for the
+smooth river flowed onward as silently as ever.
+
+Presently a loud voice burst through the awed hush that followed. It
+came from William of Roderburg, Baron Henry's kinsman.
+
+"Forward!" he cried. A murmur of voices from the others was all the
+answer that he received. "Forward!" cried the young man again, "the boy
+and those with him are not so far away but that we might yet catch up
+with them."
+
+Then one of the men spoke up in answer--a man with a seamed,
+weather-beaten face and crisp grizzled hair. "Nay," said he, "our Lord
+Baron is gone, and this is no quarrel of ours; here be four of us that
+are wounded and three I misdoubt that are dead; why should we follow
+further only to suffer more blows for no gain?" A growl of assent rose
+from those that stood around, and William of Roderburg saw that nothing
+more was to be done by the Trutz-Dragons that day.
+
+
+
+
+XIV. How Otto Saw the Great Emperor.
+
+Through weakness and sickness and faintness, Otto had lain in a half
+swoon through all that long journey under the hot May sun. It was as in
+a dreadful nightmare that he had heard on and on and on that monotonous
+throbbing of galloping hoofs upon the ground; had felt that last kiss
+that his father had given him upon his cheek. Then the onward ride
+again, until all faded away into a dull mist and he knew no more. When
+next he woke it was with the pungent smell of burned vinegar in his
+nostrils and with the feeling of a cool napkin bathing his brow. He
+opened his eyes and then closed them again, thinking he must have been
+in a dream, for he lay in his old room at the peaceful monastery of the
+White Cross on the hill; the good Father Abbot sat near by, gazing upon
+his face with the old absent student look, Brother John sat in the deep
+window seat also gazing at him, and Brother Theodore, the leech of the
+monastery, sat beside him bathing his head. Beside these old familiar
+faces were the faces of those who had been with him in that long flight;
+the One-eyed Hans, old Master Nicholas his kinsman, and the others.
+So he closed his eyes, thinking that maybe it was all a dream. But the
+sharp throbbing of the poor stump at his wrist soon taught him that he
+was still awake.
+
+"Am I then really home in St. Michaelsburg again?" he murmured, without
+unclosing his eyes.
+
+Brother Theodore began snuffling through his nose; there was a pause.
+"Yes," said the old Abbot at last, and his gentle voice trembled as
+he spoke; "yes, my dear little child, thou art back again in thine own
+home; thou hast not been long out in the great world, but truly thou
+hast had a sharp and bitter trial of it."
+
+"But they will not take me away again, will they?" said Otto quickly,
+unclosing his blue eyes.
+
+"Nay," said the Abbot, gently; "not until thou art healed in body and
+art ready and willing to go."
+
+Three months and more had passed, and Otto was well again; and now,
+escorted by One-eyed Hans and those faithful few who had clung to the
+Baron Conrad through his last few bitter days, he was riding into the
+quaint old town of Nurnburg; for the Emperor Rudolph was there at that
+time, waiting for King Ottocar of Bohemia to come thither and answer
+the imperial summons before the Council, and Otto was travelling to the
+court.
+
+As they rode in through the gates of the town, Otto looked up at the
+high-peaked houses with their overhanging gables, the like of which he
+had never seen before, and he stared with his round blue eyes at seeing
+them so crowded together along the length of the street. But most of
+all he wondered at the number of people that passed hither and thither,
+jostling each other in their hurry, and at the tradesmen's booths
+opening upon the street with the wonderful wares hanging within; armor
+at the smiths, glittering ornaments at the goldsmiths, and rich fabrics
+of silks and satins at the mercers. He had never seen anything so rich
+and grand in all of his life, for little Otto had never been in a town
+before.
+
+"Oh! look," he cried, "at that wonderful lady; see, holy father! sure
+the Emperor's wife can be no finer than that lady."
+
+The Abbot smiled. "Nay, Otto," said he, "that is but a burgher's wife or
+daughter; the ladies at the Emperor's court are far grander than such as
+she."
+
+"So!" said Otto, and then fell silent with wonder.
+
+And now, at last the great moment had come when little Otto with his own
+eyes was to behold the mighty Emperor who ruled over all the powerful
+kingdoms of Germany and Austria, and Italy and Bohemia, and other
+kingdoms and principalities and states. His heart beat so that he could
+hardly speak as, for a moment, the good Abbot who held him by the hand
+stopped outside of the arrased doorway to whisper some last instructions
+into his ear. Then they entered the apartment.
+
+It was a long, stone-paved room. The floor was covered with rich rugs
+and the walls were hung with woven tapestry wherein were depicted
+knights and ladies in leafy gardens and kings and warriors at battle.
+A long row of high glazed windows extended along the length of the
+apartment, flooding it with the mellow light of the autumn day. At
+the further end of the room, far away, and standing by a great carved
+chimney place wherein smouldered the remains of a fire, stood a group of
+nobles in gorgeous dress of velvet and silks, and with glittering golden
+chains hung about their necks.
+
+One figure stood alone in front of the great yawning fireplace. His
+hands were clasped behind him, and his look bent thoughtfully upon the
+floor. He was dressed only in a simple gray robe without ornament or
+adornment, a plain leathern belt girded his waist, and from it hung a
+sword with a bone hilt encased in a brown leathern scabbard. A noble
+stag-hound lay close behind him, curled up upon the floor, basking in
+the grateful warmth of the fire.
+
+As the Father Abbot and Otto drew near he raised his head and looked
+at them. It was a plain, homely face that Otto saw, with a wrinkled
+forehead and a long mouth drawn down at the corners. It was the face of
+a good, honest burgher burdened with the cares of a prosperous trade.
+"Who can he be," thought Otto, "and why does the poor man stand there
+among all the great nobles?"
+
+But the Abbot walked straight up to him and kneeled upon the floor,
+and little Otto, full of wonder, did the same. It was the great Emperor
+Rudolph.
+
+"Who have we here," said the Emperor, and he bent his brow upon the
+Abbot and the boy.
+
+"Sire," said Abbot Otto, "we have humbly besought you by petition, in
+the name of your late vassal, Baron Conrad of Vuelph of Drachenhausen,
+for justice to this his son, the Baron Otto, whom, sire, as you may see,
+hath been cruelly mutilated at the hands of Baron Henry of Roderburg of
+Trutz-Drachen. He hath moreover been despoiled of his lands, his castle
+burnt, and his household made prisoner."
+
+The Emperor frowned until the shaggy eyebrows nearly hid the keen gray
+twinkle of the eyes beneath. "Yes," said he, "I do remember me of
+that petition, and have given it consideration both in private and in
+council." He turned to the group of listening nobles. "Look," said he,
+"at this little child marred by the inhumanity and the cruelty of those
+robber villains. By heavens! I will put down their lawless rapine, if I
+have to give every castle from the north to the south to the flames and
+to the sword." Then turning to Otto again, "Poor little child," said he,
+"thy wrongs shall be righted, and so far as they are able, those cruel
+Roderburgs shall pay thee penny for penny, and grain for grain, for what
+thou hast lost; and until such indemnity hath been paid the family of
+the man who wrought this deed shall be held as surety."
+
+Little Otto looked up in the kind, rugged face above him. "Nay, Lord
+Emperor," said he, in his quaint, quiet way, "there are but two in the
+family--the mother and the daughter--and I have promised to marry the
+little girl when she and I are old enough; so, if you please, I would
+not have harm happen to her."
+
+The Emperor continued to look down at the kneeling boy, and at last he
+gave a short, dry laugh. "So be it," said he, "thy plan is not without
+its wisdom. Mayhap it is all for the best that the affair should be
+ended thus peacefully. The estates of the Roderburgs shall be held in
+trust for thee until thou art come of age; otherwise it shall be as thou
+hast proposed, the little maiden shall be taken into ward under our own
+care. And as to thee--art thou willing that I should take thee under my
+own charge in the room of thy father, who is dead?"
+
+"Aye," said Otto, simply, "I am willing, for it seems to me that thou
+art a good man."
+
+The nobles who stood near smiled at the boy's speech. As for the
+Emperor, he laughed outright. "I give thee thanks, my Lord Baron," said
+he; "there is no one in all my court who has paid me greater courtesy
+than that."
+
+So comes the end of our tale.
+
+But perhaps you may like to know what happened afterward, for no one
+cares to leave the thread of a story without tying a knot in it.
+
+Eight years had passed, and Otto grew up to manhood in the Emperor's
+court, and was with him through war and peace.
+
+But he himself never drew sword or struck a blow, for the right hand
+that hung at his side was of pure silver, and the hard, cold fingers
+never closed. Folks called him "Otto of the Silver Hand," but perhaps
+there was another reason than that for the name that had been given him,
+for the pure, simple wisdom that the old monks of the White Cross on
+the hill had taught him, clung to him through all the honors that the
+Emperor bestowed upon his favorite, and as he grew older his words were
+listened to and weighed by those who were high in Council, and even by
+the Emperor himself.
+
+And now for the end of all.
+
+One day Otto stood uncertainly at the doorway of a room in the imperial
+castle, hesitating before he entered; and yet there was nothing so very
+dreadful within, only one poor girl whose heart fluttered more than his.
+Poor little Pauline, whom he had not seen since that last day in the
+black cell at Trutz-Drachen.
+
+At last he pushed aside the hangings and entered the room.
+
+She was sitting upon a rude bench beside the window, looking at him out
+of her great, dark eyes.
+
+He stopped short and stood for a moment confused and silent; for he had
+no thought in his mind but of the little girl whom he had last seen, and
+for a moment he stood confused before the fair maiden with her great,
+beautiful dark eyes.
+
+She on her part beheld a tall, slender youth with curling, golden hair,
+one hand white and delicate, the other of pure and shining silver.
+
+He came to her and took her hand and set it to his lips, and all that
+she could do was to gaze with her great, dark eyes upon the hero of whom
+she had heard so many talk; the favorite of the Emperor; the wise young
+Otto of the Silver Hand.
+
+
+
+
+Afterword
+
+The ruins of Drachenhausen were rebuilt, for the walls were as sound as
+ever, though empty and gaping to the sky; but it was no longer the den
+of a robber baron for beneath the scutcheon over the great gate was
+carved a new motto of the Vuelphs; a motto which the Emperor Rudolph
+himself had given:
+
+"Manus argentea quam manus ferrea melior est."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Otto of the Silver Hand, by Howard Pyle
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+Project Gutenberg Etext Otto of the Silver Hand, by Howard Pyle
+#4 in our series by Howard Pyle
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+Title:  Otto of the Silver Hand
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+
+Otto
+Of the Silver Hand
+
+by Howard Pyle
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+I. The Dragon's House,
+II. How the Baron Went Forth to Shear,
+III. How the Baron Came Home Shorn,
+IV. The White Cross on the Hill,
+V. How Otto Dwelt at St. Michaelsburg,
+VI. How Otto Lived in the Dragon's House,
+VII. The Red Cock Crows on Drachenhausen,
+VIII. In the House of the Dragon Scorner,
+IX. How One-eyed Hans Came to Trutz-Drachen,
+X. How Hans Brought Terror to the Kitchen,
+XI. How Otto was Saved,
+XII. A Ride for Life,
+XIII. How Baron Conrad Held the Bridge,
+XIV. How Otto Saw the Great Emperor,
+
+
+
+
+FOREWORD.
+
+Between the far away past history of the world, and that which
+lies near to us; in the time when the wisdom of the ancient
+times was dead and had passed away, and our own days of light
+had not yet come, there lay a great black gulf in human history,
+a gulf of ignorance, of superstition, of cruelty, and of
+wickedness.
+
+That time we call the dark or middle ages.
+
+Few records remain to us of that dreadful period in our world's
+history, and we only know of it through broken and disjointed
+fragments that have been handed down to us through the
+generations.
+
+Yet, though the world's life then was so wicked and black, there
+yet remained a few good men and women here and there (mostly in
+peaceful and quiet monasteries, far from the thunder and the
+glare of the worlds bloody battle), who knew the right and the
+truth and lived according to what they knew; who preserved and
+tenderly cared for the truths that the dear Christ taught, and
+lived and died for in Palestine so long ago.
+
+This tale that I am about to tell is of a little boy who lived
+and suffered in those dark middle ages; of how he saw both the
+good and the bad of men, and of how, by gentleness and love and
+not by strife and hatred, he came at last to stand above other
+men and to be looked up to by all. And should you follow the
+story to the end, I hope you may find it a pleasure, as I have
+done, to ramble through those dark ancient castles, to lie with
+little Otto and Brother John in the high belfry-tower, or to sit
+with them in the peaceful quiet of the sunny old monastery
+garden, for, of all the story, I love best those early peaceful
+years that little Otto spent in the dear old White Cross on the
+Hill.
+
+Poor little Otto's life was a stony and a thorny pathway, and it
+is well for all of us nowadays that we walk it in fancy and not
+in truth.
+
+
+I.
+
+The Dragon's House.
+
+Up from the gray rocks, rising sheer and bold and bare, stood
+the walls and towers of Castle Drachenhausen. A great gate-way,
+with a heavy iron-pointed portcullis hanging suspended in the
+dim arch above, yawned blackly upon the bascule or falling
+drawbridge that spanned a chasm between the blank stone walls
+and the roadway that winding down the steep rocky slope to the
+little valley just beneath. There in the lap of the hills around
+stood the wretched straw-thatched huts of the peasants belonging
+to the castle - miserable serfs who, half timid, half fierce,
+tilled their poor patches of ground, wrenching from the hard
+soil barely enough to keep body and soul together. Among those
+vile hovels played the little children like foxes about their
+dens, their wild, fierce eyes peering out from under a mat of
+tangled yellow hair.
+
+Beyond these squalid huts lay the rushing, foaming river,
+spanned by a high, rude, stone bridge where the road from the
+castle crossed it, and beyond the river stretched the great,
+black forest, within whose gloomy depths the savage wild beasts
+made their lair, and where in winter time the howling wolves
+coursed their flying prey across the moonlit snow and under the
+net-work of the black shadows from the naked boughs above.
+
+The watchman in the cold, windy bartizan or watch-tower that
+clung to the gray walls above the castle gateway, looked from
+his narrow window, where the wind piped and hummed, across the
+tree-tops that rolled in endless billows of green, over hill and
+over valley to the blue and distant slope of the Keiserberg,
+where, on the mountain side, glimmered far away the walls of
+Castle Trutz-Drachen.
+
+Within the massive stone walls through which the gaping gateway
+led, three great cheerless brick buildings, so forbidding that
+even the yellow sunlight could not light them into brightness,
+looked down, with row upon row of windows, upon three sides of
+the bleak, stone courtyard. Back of and above them clustered a
+jumble of other buildings, tower and turret, one high-peaked
+roof overtopping another.
+
+The great house in the centre was the Baron's Hall, the part to
+the left was called the Roderhausen; between the two stood a
+huge square pile, rising dizzily up into the clear air high
+above the rest - the great Melchior Tower.
+
+At the top clustered a jumble of buildings hanging high aloft in
+the windy space a crooked wooden belfry, a tall, narrow watch-
+tower, and a rude wooden house that clung partly to the roof of
+the great tower and partly to the walls.
+
+>From the chimney of this crazy hut a thin thread of smoke would
+now and then rise into the air, for there were folk living far
+up in that empty, airy desert, and oftentimes wild, uncouth
+little children were seen playing on the edge of the dizzy
+height, or sitting with their bare legs hanging down over the
+sheer depths, as they gazed below at what was going on in the
+court-yard. There they sat, just as little children in the town
+might sit upon their father's door-step; and as the sparrows
+might fly around the feet of the little town children, so the
+circling flocks of rooks and daws flew around the feet of these
+air-born creatures.
+
+It was Schwartz Carl and his wife and little ones who lived far
+up there in the Melchior Tower, for it overlooked the top of the
+hill behind the castle and so down into the valley upon the
+further side. There, day after day, Schwartz Carl kept watch
+upon the gray road that ran like a ribbon through the valley,
+from the rich town of Gruenstaldt to the rich town of
+Staffenburgen, where passed merchant caravans from the one to
+the other - for the lord of Drachenhausen was a robber baron.
+
+Dong! Dong! The great alarm bell would suddenly ring out from
+the belfry high up upon the Melchior Tower. Dong! Dong! Till the
+rooks and daws whirled clamoring and screaming. Dong! Dong! Till
+the fierce wolf-hounds in the rocky kennels behind the castle
+stables howled dismally in answer. Dong! Dong! - Dong! Dong!
+
+Then would follow a great noise and uproar and hurry in the
+castle court-yard below; men shouting and calling to one
+another, the ringing of armor, and the clatter of horses' hoofs
+upon the hard stone. With the creaking and groaning of the
+windlass the iron-pointed portcullis would be slowly raised, and
+with a clank and rattle and clash of iron chains the drawbridge
+would fall crashing. Then over it would thunder horse and man,
+clattering away down the winding, stony pathway, until the great
+forest would swallow them, and they would be gone.
+
+Then for a while peace would fall upon the castle courtyard, the
+cock would crow, the cook would scold a lazy maid, and Gretchen,
+leaning out of a window, would sing a snatch of a song, just as
+though it were a peaceful farm-house, instead of a den of
+robbers.
+
+Maybe it would be evening before the men would return once more.
+Perhaps one would have a bloody cloth bound about his head,
+perhaps one would carry his arm in a sling; perhaps one - maybe
+more than one - would be left behind, never to return again, and
+soon forgotten by all excepting some poor woman who would weep
+silently in the loneliness of her daily work.
+
+Nearly always the adventurers would bring back with them pack-
+horses laden with bales of goods. Sometimes, besides these, they
+would return with a poor soul, his hands tied behind his back
+and his feet beneath the horse's body, his fur cloak and his
+flat cap wofully awry. A while he would disappear in some gloomy
+cell of the dungeon-keep, until an envoy would come from the
+town with a fat purse, when his ransom would be paid, the
+dungeon would disgorge him, and he would be allowed to go upon
+his way again.
+
+One man always rode beside Baron Conrad in his expeditions and
+adventures a short, deep-chested, broad-shouldered man, with
+sinewy arms so long that when he stood his hands hung nearly to
+his knees.
+
+His coarse, close-clipped hair came so low upon his brow that
+only a strip of forehead showed between it and his bushy, black
+eyebrows. One eye was blind; the other twinkled and gleamed like
+a spark under the penthouse of his brows. Many folk said that
+the one-eyed Hans had drunk beer with the Hill-man, who had
+given him the strength of ten, for he could bend an iron spit
+like a hazel twig, and could lift a barrel of wine from the
+floor to his head as easily as though it were a basket of eggs.
+
+As for the one-eyed Hans he never said that he had not drunk
+beer with the Hill-man, for he liked the credit that such
+reports gave him with the other folk. And so, like a half savage
+mastiff, faithful to death to his master, but to him alone, he
+went his sullen way and lived his sullen life within the castle
+walls, half respected, half feared by the other inmates, for it
+was dangerous trifling with the one-eyed Hans.
+
+
+II.
+
+How the Baron went Forth to Shear.
+
+Baron Conrad and Baroness Matilda sat together at their morning
+meal below their raised seats stretched the long, heavy wooden
+table, loaded with coarse food - black bread, boiled cabbage,
+bacon, eggs, a great chine from a wild boar, sausages, such as
+we eat nowadays, and flagons and jars of beer and wine, Along
+the board sat ranged in the order of the household the followers
+and retainers. Four or five slatternly women and girls served
+the others as they fed noisily at the table, moving here and
+there behind the men with wooden or pewter dishes of food, now
+and then laughing at the jests that passed or joining in the
+talk. A huge fire blazed and crackled and roared in the great
+open fireplace, before which were stretched two fierce, shaggy,
+wolfish-looking hounds. Outside, the rain beat upon the roof or
+ran trickling from the eaves, and every now and then a chill
+draught of wind would breathe through the open windows of the
+great black dining-hall and set the fire roaring.
+
+Along the dull-gray wall of stone hung pieces of armor, and
+swords and lances, and great branching antlers of the stag.
+Overhead arched the rude, heavy, oaken beams, blackened with age
+and smoke, and underfoot was a chill pavement of stone.
+
+Upon Baron Conrad's shoulder leaned the pale, slender, yellow-
+haired Baroness, the only one in all the world with whom the
+fierce lord of Drachenhausen softened to gentleness, the only
+one upon whom his savage brows looked kindly, and to whom his
+harsh voice softened with love.
+
+The Baroness was talking to her husband in a low voice, as he
+looked down into her pale face, with its gentle blue eyes.
+
+"And wilt thou not, then," said she, "do that one thing for me?"
+
+"Nay," he growled, in his deep voice, "I cannot promise thee
+never more to attack the towns-people in the valley over yonder.
+How else could I live an' I did not take from the fat town hogs
+to fill our own larder?"
+
+"Nay," said the Baroness, "thou couldst live as some others do,
+for all do not rob the burgher folk as thou dost. Alas! mishap
+will come upon thee some day, and if thou shouldst be slain,
+what then would come of me?"
+
+"Prut," said the Baron, "thy foolish fears" But he laid his rough,
+hairy hand softly upon the Baroness' head and stroked her
+yellow hair.
+
+"For my sake, Conrad," whispered the Baroness.
+
+A pause followed. The Baron sat looking thoughtfully down into
+the Baroness' face. A moment more, and he might have promised
+what she besought; a moment more, and he might have been saved
+all the bitter trouble that was to follow. But it was not to be.
+
+Suddenly a harsh sound broke the quietness of all into a
+confusion of noises. Dong! Dong! - it was the great alarm-bell
+from Melchior's Tower.
+
+The Baron started at the sound. He sat for a moment or two with
+his hand clinched upon the arm of his seat as though about to
+rise, then he sunk back into his chair again.
+
+All the others had risen tumultuously from the table, and now
+stood looking at him, awaiting his orders.
+
+"For my sake, Conrad," said the Baroness again.
+
+Dong! Dong! rang the alarm-bell. The Baron sat with his eyes
+bent upon the floor, scowling blackly.
+
+The Baroness took his hand in both of hers. "For my sake," she
+pleaded, and the tears filled her blue eyes as she looked up at
+him, "do not go this time."
+
+>From the courtyard without came the sound of horses' hoofs
+clashing against the stone pavement, and those in the hall stood
+watching and wondering at this strange delay of the Lord Baron.
+Just then the door opened and one came pushing past the rest; it
+was the one-eyed Hans. He came straight to where the Baron sat,
+and, leaning over, whispered something into his master's ear.
+
+"For my sake," implored the Baroness again; but the scale was
+turned. The Baron pushed back his chair heavily and rose to his
+feet. "Forward!" he roared, in a voice of thunder, and a great
+shout went up in answer as he strode clanking down the hall and
+out of the open door.
+
+The Baroness covered her face with her hands and wept.
+
+"Never mind, little bird," said old Ursela, the nurse,
+soothingly; "he will come back to thee again as he has come back
+to thee before."
+
+But the poor young Baroness continued weeping with her face
+buried in her hands, because he had not done that thing she had
+asked.
+
+A white young face framed in yellow hair looked out into the
+courtyard from a window above; but if Baron Conrad of
+Drachenhausen saw it from beneath the bars of his shining
+helmet, he made no sign.
+
+"Forward" he cried again.
+
+Down thundered the drawbridge, and away they rode with clashing
+hoofs and ringing armor through the gray shroud of drilling
+rain.
+
+The day had passed and the evening had come, and the Baroness
+and her women sat beside a roaring fire. All were chattering and
+talking and laughing but two - the fair young Baroness and old
+Ursela; the one sat listening, listening, listening, the other
+sat with her chin resting in the palm of her hand, silently
+watching her young mistress. The night was falling gray and
+chill, when suddenly the clear notes of a bugle rang from
+without the castle walls. The young Baroness started, and the
+rosy light flashed up into her pale cheeks.
+
+"Yes, good," said old Ursela; "the red fox has come back to his
+den again, and I warrant he brings a fat town goose in his
+mouth; now we'll have fine clothes to wear, and thou another
+gold chain to hang about thy pretty neck."
+
+The young Baroness laughed merrily at the old woman's speech.
+"This time," said she, "I will choose a string of pearls like
+that one my aunt used to wear, and which I had about my neck
+when Conrad first saw me."
+
+Minute after minute passed; the Baroness sat nervously playing
+with a bracelet of golden beads about her wrist. "How long he
+stays," said she.
+
+"Yes," said Ursela; "but it is not cousin wish that holds him by
+the coat."
+
+As she spoke, a door banged in the passageway without, and the
+ring of iron footsteps sounded upon the stone floor. Clank!
+Clank! Clank!
+
+The Baroness rose to her feet, her face all alight. The door
+opened; then the flush of joy faded away and the face grew
+white, white, white. One hand clutched the back of the bench
+whereon she had been sitting, the other hand pressed tightly
+against her side.
+
+It was Hans the one-eyed who stood in the doorway, and black
+trouble sat on his brow; all were looking at him waiting.
+
+"Conrad," whispered the Baroness, at last. "Where is Conrad?
+Where is your master?" and even her lips were white as she
+spoke.
+
+The one-eyed Hans said nothing.
+
+Just then came the noise of men s voices in the corridor and the
+shuffle and scuffle of feet carrying a heavy load. Nearer and
+nearer they came, and one-eyed Hans stood aside. Six men came
+struggling through the doorway, carrying a litter, and on the
+litter lay the great Baron Conrad. The flaming torch thrust into
+the iron bracket against the wall flashed up with the draught of
+air from the open door, and the light fell upon the white face
+and the closed eyes, and showed upon his body armor a great red
+stain that was not the stain of rust.
+
+Suddenly Ursela cried out in a sharp, shrill voice, "Catch her,
+she falls!"
+
+It was the Baroness.
+
+Then the old crone turned fiercely upon the one-eyed Hans. "Thou
+fool!"  she cried, "why didst thou bring him here? Thou hast
+killed thy lady!"
+
+"I did not know," said the one-eyed Hans, stupidly.
+
+
+III.
+
+How the Baron came Home Shorn.
+
+But Baron Conrad was not dead. For days he lay upon his hard
+bed, now muttering incoherent words beneath his red beard, now
+raving fiercely with the fever of his wound. But one day he woke
+again to the things about him.
+
+He turned his head first to the one side and then to the other;
+there sat Schwartz Carl and the one-eyed Hans. Two or three
+other retainers stood by a great window that looked out into the
+courtyard beneath, jesting and laughing together in low tones,
+and one lay upon the heavy oaken bench that stood along by the
+wall snoring in his sleep.
+
+"Where is your lady?" said the Baron, presently; "and why is she
+not with me at this time?"
+
+The man that lay upon the bench started up at the sound of his
+voice, and those at the window came hurrying to his bedside. But
+Schwartz Carl and the one-eyed Hans looked at one another, and
+neither of them spoke. The Baron saw the look and in it read a
+certain meaning that brought him to his elbow, though only to
+sink back upon his pillow again with a groan.
+
+"Why do you not answer me?" said he at last, in a hollow voice;
+then to the one-eyed Hans, "Hast no tongue, fool, that thou
+standest gaping there like a fish? Answer me, where is thy
+mistress?"
+
+"I - I do not know," stammered poor Hans.
+
+For a while the Baron lay silently looking from one face to the
+other, then he spoke again. "How long have I been lying here?"
+said he.
+
+"A sennight, my lord," said Master Rudolph, the steward, who had
+come into the room and who now stood among the others at the
+bedside.
+
+"A sennight," repeated the Baron, in a low voice, and then to
+Master Rudolph, "And has the Baroness been often beside me in
+that time?" Master Rudolph hesitated. "Answer me," said the
+Baron, harshly.
+
+"Not - not often," said Master Rudolph, hesitatingly.
+
+The Baron lay silent for a long time. At last he passed his
+hands over his face and held them there for a minute, then of a
+sudden, before anyone knew what he was about to do, he rose upon
+his elbow and then sat upright upon the bed. The green wound
+broke out afresh and a dark red spot grew and spread upon the
+linen wrappings; his face was drawn and haggard with the pain of
+his moving, and his eyes wild and bloodshot. Great drops of
+sweat gathered and stood upon his forehead as he sat there
+swaying slightly from side to side.
+
+"My shoes," said he, hoarsely.
+
+Master Rudolph stepped forward. "But, my Lord Baron," he began
+and then stopped short, for the Baron shot him such a look that
+his tongue stood still in his head.
+
+Hans saw that look out of his one eye. Down he dropped upon his
+knees and, fumbling under the bed, brought forth a pair of soft
+leathern shoes, which he slipped upon the Baron's feet and then
+laced the thongs above the instep.
+
+"Your shoulder," said the Baron. He rose slowly to his feet,
+gripping Hans in the stress of his agony until the fellow winced
+again. For a moment he stood as though gathering strength, then
+doggedly started forth upon that quest which he had set upon
+himself.
+
+At the door he stopped for a moment as though overcome by his
+weakness, and there Master Nicholas, his cousin, met him; for
+the steward had sent one of the retainers to tell the old man
+what the Baron was about to do.
+
+"Thou must go back again, Conrad," said Master Nicholas; "thou
+art not fit to be abroad."
+
+The Baron answered him never a word, but he glared at him from
+out of his bloodshot eyes and ground his teeth together. Then he
+started forth again upon his way.
+
+Down the long hall he went, slowly and laboriously, the others
+following silently behind him, then up the steep winding stairs,
+step by step, now and then stopping to lean against the wall. So
+he reached a long and gloomy passageway lit only by the light of
+a little window at the further end.
+
+He stopped at the door of one of the rooms that opened into this
+passage-way, stood for a moment, then he pushed it open.
+
+No one was within but old Ursela, who sat crooning over a fire
+with a bundle upon her knees. She did not see the Baron or know
+that he was there.
+
+"Where is your lady?" said he, in a hollow voice.
+
+Then the old nurse looked up with a start. "Jesu bless us,"
+cried she, and crossed herself.
+
+"Where is your lady?" said the Baron again, in the same hoarse
+voice; and then, not waiting for an answer, "Is she dead?"
+
+The old woman looked at him for a minute blinking her watery
+eyes, and then suddenly broke into a shrill, long-drawn wail.
+The Baron needed to hear no more.
+
+As though in answer to the old woman's cry, a thin piping
+complaint came from the bundle in her lap.
+
+At the sound the red blood flashed up into the Baron's face.
+"What is that you have there?"  said he, pointing to the bundle
+upon the old woman's knees.
+
+She drew back the coverings and there lay a poor, weak, little
+baby, that once again raised its faint reedy pipe.
+
+"It is your son," said Ursela, "that the dear Baroness left
+behind her when the holy angels took her to Paradise. She
+blessed him and called him Otto before she left us."
+
+
+IV.
+
+ The White Cross on the Hill.
+
+Here the glassy waters of the River Rhine, holding upon its
+bosom a mimic picture of the blue sky and white clouds floating
+above, runs smoothly around a jutting point of land, St.
+Michaelsburg, rising from the reedy banks of the stream, sweeps
+up with a smooth swell until it cuts sharp and clear against the
+sky. Stubby vineyards covered its earthy breast, and field and
+garden and orchard crowned its brow, where lay the Monastery of
+St. Michaelsburg - "The White Cross on the Hill." There within
+the white walls, where the warm yellow sunlight slept, all was
+peaceful quietness, broken only now and then by the crowing of
+the cock or the clamorous cackle of a hen, the lowing of kine or
+the bleating of goats, a solitary voice in prayer, the faint
+accord of distant singing, or the resonant toll of the monastery
+bell from the high-peaked belfry that overlooked the hill and
+valley and the smooth, far-winding stream. No other sounds broke
+the stillness, for in this peaceful haven was never heard the
+clash of armor, the ring of iron-shod hoofs, or the hoarse call
+to arms.
+
+All men were not wicked and cruel and fierce in that dark, far-
+away age; all were not robbers and terror-spreading tyrants,
+even in that time when men's hands were against their neighbors,
+and war and rapine dwelt in place of peace and justice.
+
+Abbot Otto, of St. Michaelsburg, was a gentle, patient, pale.
+faced old man; his white hands were soft and smooth, and no one
+would have thought that they could have known the harsh touch of
+sword-hilt and lance. And yet, in the days of the Emperor
+Frederick - the grandson of the great Red-beard - no one stood
+higher in the prowess of arms than he. But all at once - for why,
+no man could tell - a change came over him, and in the flower of
+his youth and fame and growing power he gave up everything in
+life and entered the quiet sanctuary of that white monastery on
+the hill-side, so far away from the tumult and the conflict of
+the world in which he had lived.
+
+Some said that it was because the lady he had loved had loved
+his brother, and that when they were married Otto of Wolbergen
+had left the church with a broken heart.
+
+But such stories are old songs that have been sung before.
+
+Clatter! clatter! Jingle! jingle! It was a full-armed knight
+that came riding up the steep hill road that wound from left to
+right and right to left amid the vineyards on the slopes of St.
+Michaelsburg. Polished helm and corselet blazed in the noon
+sunlight, for no knight in those days dared to ride the roads
+except in full armor. In front of him the solitary knight
+carried a bundle wrapped in the folds of his coarse gray cloak.
+
+It was a sorely sick man that rode up the heights of St.
+Michaelsburg. His head hung upon his breast through the
+faintness of weariness and pain; for it was the Baron Conrad.
+
+He had left his bed of sickness that morning, had saddled his
+horse in the gray dawn with his own hands, and had ridden away
+into the misty twilight of the forest without the knowledge of
+anyone excepting the porter, who, winking and blinking in the
+bewilderment of his broken slumber, had opened the gates to the
+sick man, hardly knowing what he was doing, until he beheld his
+master far away, clattering down the steep bridle-path.
+
+Eight leagues had he ridden that day with neither a stop nor a
+stay; but now at last the end of his journey had come, and he
+drew rein under the shade of the great wooden gateway of St.
+Michaelsburg.
+
+He reached up to the knotted rope and gave it a pull, and from
+within sounded the answering ring of the porter's bell. By and
+by a little wicket opened in the great wooden portals, and the
+gentle, wrinkled face of old Brother Benedict, the porter,
+peeped out at the strange iron-clad visitor and the great black
+war-horse, streaked and wet with the sweat of the journey,
+flecked and dappled with flakes of foam. A few words passed
+between them, and then the little window was closed again; and
+within, the shuffling pat of the sandalled feet sounded fainter
+and fainter, as Brother Benedict bore the message from Baron
+Conrad to Abbot Otto, and the mail-clad figure was left alone,
+sitting there as silent as a statue.
+
+By and by the footsteps sounded again; there came a noise of
+clattering chains and the rattle of the key in the lock, and the
+rasping of the bolts dragged back. Then the gate swung slowly
+open, and Baron Conrad rode into the shelter of the White Cross,
+and as the hoofs of his war-horse clashed upon the stones of the
+courtyard within, the wooden gate swung slowly to behind him.
+
+Abbot Otto stood by the table when Baron Conrad entered the
+high-vaulted room from the farther end. The light from the oriel
+window behind the old man shed broken rays of light upon him,
+and seemed to frame his thin gray hairs with a golden glory. His
+white, delicate hand rested upon the table beside him, and upon
+some sheets of parchment covered with rows of ancient Greek
+writing which he had been engaged in deciphering.
+
+Clank ! clank! clank ! Baron Conrad strode across the stone
+floor, and then stopped short in front of the good old man.
+
+"What dost thou seek here, my son ?" said the Abbot.
+
+"I seek sanctuary for my son and thy brother's grandson," said
+the Baron Conrad, and he flung back the folds of his cloak and
+showed the face of the sleeping babe.
+
+For a while the Abbot said nothing, but stood gazing dreamily at
+the baby. After a while he looked up. "And the child's mother,"
+said he - "what hath she to say at this?"
+
+"She hath naught to say," said Baron Conrad, hoarsely, and then
+stopped short in his speech. "She is dead," said he, at last, in
+a husky voice, "and is with God's angels in paradise."
+
+The Abbot looked intently in the Baron's face. "So!" said he,
+under his breath, and then for the first time noticed how white
+and drawn was the Baron's face. "Art sick thyself?" he asked.
+
+"Ay," said the Baron, "I have come from death's door. But that
+is no matter. Wilt thou take this little babe into sanctuary? My
+house is a vile, rough place, and not fit for such as he, and
+his mother with the blessed saints in heaven." And once more
+Conrad of Drachenhausen's face began twitching with the pain of
+his thoughts.
+
+"Yes," said the old man, gently, "he shall live here," and he
+stretched out his hands and took the babe. "Would," said he,
+"that all the little children in these dark times might be thus
+brought to the house of God, and there learn mercy and peace,
+instead of rapine and war."
+
+For a while he stood looking down in silence at the baby in his
+arms, but with his mind far away upon other things. At last he
+roused himself with a start. "And thou," said he to the Baron
+Conrad - "hath not thy heart been chastened and softened by
+this? Surely thou wilt not go back to thy old life of rapine and
+extortion?"
+
+"Nay," said Baron Conrad, gruffly, "I will rob the city swine no
+longer, for that was the last thing that my dear one asked of
+me."
+
+The old Abbot's face lit up with a smile. "I am right glad that
+thy heart was softened, and that thou art willing at last to
+cease from war and violence."
+
+"Nay," cried the Baron, roughly, "I said nothing of ceasing from
+war. By heaven, no! I will have revenge!" And he clashed his
+iron foot upon the floor and clinched his fists and ground his
+teeth together. "Listen," said he, "and I will tell thee how my
+troubles happened. A fortnight ago I rode out upon an expedition
+against a caravan of fat burghers in the valley of Gruenhoffen.
+They outnumbered us many to one, but city swine such as they are
+not of the stuff to stand against our kind for a long time.
+Nevertheless, while the men-at-arms who guarded the caravan were
+staying us with pike and cross-bow from behind a tree which they
+had felled in front of a high bridge the others had driven the
+pack-horses off, so that by the time we had forced the bridge
+they were a league or more away. We pushed after them as hard as
+we were able, but when we came up with them we found that they
+had been joined by Baron Frederick of Trutz-Drachen, to whom for
+three years and more the burghers of Gruenstadt have been paying
+a tribute for his protection against others. Then again they made a
+stand, and this time the Baron Frederick himself was with them.
+But though the dogs fought well, we were forcing them back, and
+might have got the better of them, had not my horse stumbled upon
+a sloping stone, and so fell and rolled over upon me. While I lay
+there with my horse upon me, Baron Frederick ran me down with
+his lance, and gave me that foul wound that came so near to
+slaying me - and did slay my dear wife. Nevertheless, my men
+were able to bring me out from that press and away, and we had
+bitten the Trutz-Drachen dogs so deep that they were too sore to
+follow us, and so let us go our way in peace. But when those
+fools of mine brought me to my castle they bore me lying
+upon a litter to my wife's chamber. There she beheld me, and,
+thinking me dead, swooned a death-swoon, so that she only lived
+long enough to bless her new-born babe and name it Otto, for
+you, her father's brother. But, by heavens! I will have revenge,
+root and branch, upon that vile tribe, the Roderburgs of Trutz-
+Drachen. Their great-grandsire built that castle in scorn of
+Baron Casper in the old days; their grandsire slew my father's
+grandsire; Baron Nicholas slew two of our kindred; and now this
+Baron Frederick gives me that foul wound and kills my dear wife
+through my body." Here the Baron stopped short; then of a
+sudden, shaking his fist above his head, he cried out in his
+hoarse voice: "I swear by all the saints in heaven, either the
+red cock shall crow over the roof of Trutz-Drachen or else it
+shall crow over my house! The black dog shall sit on Baron
+Frederick's shoulders or else he shall sit on mine!" Again he
+stopped, and fixing his blazing eyes upon the old man, "Hearest
+thou that, priest?" said he, and broke into a great boisterous
+laugh.
+
+Abbot Otto sighed heavily, but he tried no further to persuade
+the other into different thoughts.
+
+"Thou art wounded," said he, at last, in a gentle voice; "at
+least stay here with us until thou art healed."
+
+"Nay," said the Baron, roughly, "I will tarry no longer than to
+hear thee promise to care for my child."
+
+"I promise," said the Abbot; "but lay aside thy armor, and
+rest."
+
+"Nay," said the Baron, "I go back again to-day."
+
+At this the Abbot cried out in amazement: "Sure thou, wounded
+man, would not take that long journey without a due stay for
+resting! Think! Night will be upon thee before thou canst reach
+home again, and the forests are beset with wolves."
+
+The Baron laughed. "Those are not the wolves I fear," said he.
+"Urge me no further, I must return to-night; yet if thou hast a
+mind to do me a kindness thou canst give me some food to eat and
+a flask of your golden Michaelsburg; beyond these, I ask no
+further favor of any man, be he priest or layman."
+
+"What comfort I can give thee thou shalt have," said the Abbot,
+in his patient voice, and so left the room to give the needful
+orders, bearing the babe with him.
+
+
+V.
+
+How Otto Dwelt at St. Michaelsburg.
+
+So the poor, little, motherless waif lived among the old monks
+at the White Cross on the hill, thriving and growing apace until
+he had reached eleven or twelve years of age; a slender, fair-
+haired little fellow, with a strange, quiet serious manner.
+
+"Poor little child!" Old Brother Benedict would sometimes say to
+the others, "poor little child! The troubles in which he was
+born must have broken his wits like a glass cup. What think ye
+he said to me to-day? 'Dear Brother Benedict,' said he, 'dost
+thou shave the hair off of the top of thy head so that the dear
+God may see thy thoughts the better?' Think of that now!" and
+the good old man shook with silent laughter.
+
+When such talk came to the good Father Abbot's ears, he smiled
+quietly to himself. "It may be," said he, "that the wisdom of
+little children flies higher than our heavy wits can follow."
+
+At least Otto was not slow with his studies, and Brother
+Emmanuel, who taught him his lessons, said more than once that,
+if his wits were cracked in other ways, they were sound enough
+in Latin.
+
+Otto, in a quaint, simple way which belonged to him, was gentle
+and obedient to all. But there was one among the Brethren of St.
+Michaelsburg whom he loved far above all the rest - Brother John,
+a poor half-witted fellow, of some twenty-five or thirty years
+of age. When a very little child, he had fallen from his nurse's
+arms and hurt his head, and as he grew up into boyhood, and
+showed that his wits had been addled by his fall, his family
+knew not what else to do with him, and so sent him off to the
+Monastery of St. Michaelsburg, where he lived his simple,
+witless life upon a sort of sufferance, as though he were a
+tame, harmless animal.
+
+While Otto was still a little baby, he had been given into
+Brother John's care. Thereafter, and until Otto had grown old
+enough to care for himself, poor Brother John never left his
+little charge, night or day. Oftentimes the good Father Abbot,
+coming into the garden, where he loved to walk alone in his
+meditations, would find the poor, simple Brother sitting under
+the shade of the pear-tree, close to the bee-hives, rocking the
+little baby in his arms, singing strange, crazy songs to it, and
+gazing far away into the blue, empty sky with his curious, pale
+eyes.
+
+Although, as Otto grew up into boyhood, his lessons and his
+tasks separated him from Brother John, the bond between them
+seemed to grow stronger rather than weaker. During the hours
+that Otto had for his own they were scarcely ever apart. Down in
+the vineyard, where the monks were gathering the grapes for the
+vintage, in the garden, or in the fields, the two were always
+seen together, either wandering hand in hand, or seated in some
+shady nook or corner.
+
+But most of all they loved to lie up in the airy wooden belfry;
+the great gaping bell hanging darkly above them, the mouldering
+cross-beams glimmering far up under the dim shadows of the roof,
+where dwelt a great brown owl that, unfrightened at their
+familiar presence, stared down at them with his round, solemn
+eyes. Below them stretched the white walls of the garden, beyond
+them the vineyard, and beyond that again the far shining river,
+that seemed to Otto's mind to lead into wonder-land. There the
+two would lie upon the belfry floor by the hour, talking
+together of the strangest things.
+
+"I saw the dear Angel Gabriel again yester morn," said Brother
+John.
+
+"So!" says Otto, seriously; "and where was that?"
+
+"It was out in the garden, in the old apple-tree," said Brother
+John. "I was walking there, and my wits were running around in
+the grass like a mouse. What heard I but a wonderful sound of
+singing, and it was like the hum of a great bee, only sweeter
+than honey. So I looked up into the tree, and there I saw two
+sparks. I thought at first that they were two stars that had
+fallen out of heaven; but what think you they were, little
+child?"
+
+"I do not know," said Otto, breathlessly.
+
+"They were angel's eyes," said Brother John; and he smiled in
+the strangest way, as he gazed up into the blue sky. "So I
+looked at the two sparks and felt happy, as one does in spring
+time when the cold weather is gone, and the warm sun shines, and
+the cuckoo sings again. Then, by-and-by, I saw the face to which
+the eyes belonged. First, it shone white and thin like the moon
+in the daylight; but it grew brighter and brighter, until it
+hurt one's eyes to look at it, as though it had been the blessed
+sun itself. Angel Gabriel's hand was as white as silver, and in
+it he held a green bough with blossoms, like those that grow on
+the thorn bush. As for his robe, it was all of one piece, and
+finer than the Father Abbot's linen, and shone beside like the
+sunlight on pure snow. So I knew from all these things that it
+was the blessed Angel Gabriel."
+
+"What do they say about this tree, Brother John?" said he to me.
+
+"They say it is dying, my Lord Angel," said I, "and that the
+gardener will bring a sharp axe and cut it down."
+
+"'And what dost thou say about it, Brother John?' said he."
+
+"'I also say yes, and that it is dying,' said I."
+
+"At that he smiled until his face shone so bright that I had to
+shut my eyes."
+
+"'Now I begin to believe, Brother John, that thou art as foolish
+as men say,' said he. 'Look, till I show thee.' And thereat I
+opened mine eyes again."
+
+"Then Angel Gabriel touched the dead branches with the flowery
+twig that he held in his hand, and there was the dead wood all
+covered with green leaves, and fair blossoms and beautiful
+apples as yellow as gold. Each smelling more sweetly than a
+garden of flowers, and better to the taste than white bread and
+honey.
+
+"'They are souls of the apples,' said the good Angel,' and they
+can never wither and die.'
+
+"'Then I'll tell the gardener that he shall not cut the tree
+down,' said I."
+
+"'No, no,' said the dear Gabriel, 'that will never do, for if
+the tree is not cut down here on the earth, it can never be
+planted in paradise.'
+
+Here Brother John stopped short in his story, and began singing
+one of his crazy songs, as he gazed with his pale eyes far away
+into nothing at all.
+
+"But tell me, Brother John," said little Otto, in a hushed
+voice, "what else did the good Angel say to thee?"
+
+Brother John stopped short in his song and began looking from
+right to left, and up and down, as though to gather his wits.
+
+"So!" said he, "there was something else that he told me. Tschk!
+If I could but think now. Yes, good! This is it - 'Nothing that
+has lived,' said he, 'shall ever die, and nothing that has died
+shall ever live.'
+
+Otto drew a deep breath. "I would that I might see the beautiful
+Angel Gabriel sometime," said he; but Brother John was singing
+again and did not seem to hear what he said.
+
+Next to Brother John, the nearest one to the little child was
+the good Abbot Otto, for though he had never seen wonderful
+things with the eyes of his soul, such as Brother John's had
+beheld, and so could not tell of them, he was yet able to give
+little Otto another pleasure that no one else could give.
+
+He was a great lover of books, the old Abbot, and had under lock
+and key wonderful and beautiful volumes, bound in hog-skin and
+metal, and with covers inlaid with carved ivory, or studded with
+precious stones. But within these covers, beautiful as they
+were, lay the real wonder of the books, like the soul in the
+body; for there, beside the black letters and initials, gay with
+red and blue and gold, were beautiful pictures painted upon the
+creamy parchment. Saints and Angels, the Blessed Virgin with the
+golden oriole about her head, good St. Joseph, the three Kings;
+the simple Shepherds kneeling in the fields, while Angels with
+glories about their brow called to the poor Peasants from the
+blue sky above. But, most beautiful of all was the picture of
+the Christ Child lying in the manger, with the mild-eyed Kine
+gazing at him.
+
+Sometimes the old Abbot would unlock the iron-bound chest where
+these treasures lay hidden, and carefully and lovingly brushing
+the few grains of dust from them, would lay them upon the table
+beside the oriel window in front of his little namesake,
+allowing the little boy freedom to turn the leaves as he chose.
+
+Always it was one picture that little Otto sought; the Christ
+Child in the manger, with the Virgin, St. Joseph, the Shepherds,
+and the Kine. And as he would hang breathlessly gazing and
+gazing upon it, the old Abbot would sit watching him with a
+faint, half-sad smile flickering around his thin lips and his
+pale, narrow face.
+
+It was a pleasant, peaceful life, but by-and-by the end came.
+Otto was now nearly twelve years old.
+
+One bright, clear day, near the hour of noon, little Otto heard
+the porter's bell sounding below in the court-yard - dong! dong!
+Brother Emmanuel had been appointed as the boy's instructor, and
+just then Otto was conning his lessons in the good monk's cell.
+Nevertheless, at the sound of the bell he pricked up his ears
+and listened, for a visitor was a strange matter in that out-of-
+the-way place, and he wondered who it could be. So, while his
+wits wandered his lessons lagged.
+
+"Postera Phoeba lustrabat lampade terras," continued Brother
+Emmanuel, inexorably running his horny finger-nail beneath the
+line, "humentemque Aurora polo dimoverat umbram -" the lesson
+dragged along.
+
+Just then a sandaled footstep sounded without, in the stone
+corridor, and a light tap fell upon Brother Emmanuel's door. It
+was Brother Ignatius, and the Abbot wished little Otto to come
+to the refectory.
+
+As they crossed the court-yard Otto stared to see a group of
+mail-clad men-at-arms, some sitting upon their horses, some
+standing by the saddle-bow. "Yonder is the young baron," he
+heard one of them say in a gruff voice, and thereupon all turned
+and stared at him.
+
+A stranger was in the refectory, standing beside the good old
+Abbot, while food and wine were being brought and set upon the
+table for his refreshment; a great, tall, broad-shouldered man,
+beside whom the Abbot looked thinner and slighter than ever.
+
+The stranger was clad all in polished and gleaming armor, of
+plate and chain, over which was drawn a loose robe of gray
+woollen stuff, reaching to the knees and bound about the waist
+by a broad leathern sword-belt. Upon his arm he carried a great
+helmet which he had just removed from his head. His face was
+weather-beaten and rugged, and on lip and chin was a wiry,
+bristling beard; once red, now frosted with white.
+
+Brother Ignatius had bidden Otto to enter, and had then closed
+the door behind him; and now, as the lad walked slowly up the
+long room, he gazed with round, wondering blue eyes at the
+stranger.
+
+"Dost know who I am, Otto ? said the mail-clad knight, in a
+deep, growling voice.
+
+"Methinks you are my father, sir," said Otto.
+
+"Aye, thou art right," said Baron Conrad, "and I am glad to see
+that these milk-churning monks have not allowed thee to forget
+me, and who thou art thyself."
+
+"An' it please you," said Otto, "no one churneth milk here but
+Brother Fritz; we be makers of wine and not makers of butter, at
+St. Michaelsburg."
+
+Baron Conrad broke into a great, loud laugh, but Abbot Otto's
+sad and thoughtful face lit up with no shadow of an answering
+smile.
+
+"Conrad," said he, turning to the other, "again let me urge
+thee; do not take the child hence, his life can never be your
+life, for he is not fitted for it. I had thought," said he,
+after a moment's pause, "I had thought that thou hadst meant to
+consecrate him - this motherless one - to the care of the
+Universal Mother Church."
+
+"So!" said the Baron, "thou hadst thought that, hadst thou? Thou
+hadst thought that I had intended to deliver over this boy, the
+last of the Vuelphs, to the arms of the Church? What then was to
+become of our name and the glory of our race if it was to end
+with him in a monastery? No, Drachenhausen is the home of the
+Vuelphs, and there the last of the race shall live as his sires
+have lived before him, holding to his rights by the power and
+the might of his right hand."
+
+The Abbot turned and looked at the boy, who was gaping in simple
+wide-eyed wonderment from one to the other as they spoke.
+
+"And dost thou think, Conrad," said the old man, in his gentle,
+patient voice, "that that poor child can maintain his rights by
+the strength of his right hand?"
+
+The Baron's look followed the Abbot's, and he said nothing.
+
+In the few seconds of silence that followed, little Otto, in his
+simple mind, was wondering what all this talk portended. Why had
+his father come hither to St. Michaelsburg, lighting up the dim
+silence of the monastery with the flash and ring of his polished
+armor? Why had he talked about churning butter but now, when all
+the world knew that the monks of St. Michaelsburg made wine.
+
+It was Baron Conrad's deep voice that broke the little pause of
+silence.
+
+"If you have made a milkmaid of the boy," he burst out at last,
+"I thank the dear heaven that there is yet time to undo your
+work and to make a man of him."
+
+The Abbot sighed. "The child is yours, Conrad," said he, "the
+will of the blessed saints be done. Mayhap if he goes to dwell
+at Drachenhausen he may make you the better instead of you
+making him the worse."
+
+Then light came to the darkness of little Otto's wonderment; he
+saw what all this talk meant and why his father had come hither.
+He was to leave the happy, sunny silence of the dear White
+Cross, and to go out into that great world that he had so often
+looked down upon from the high windy belfry on the steep
+hillside.
+
+
+VI.
+
+How Otto Lived in the Dragon's House.
+
+The gates of the Monastery stood wide open, the world lay
+beyond, and all was ready for departure. Baron Conrad and his
+men-at-arms sat foot in stirrup, the milk-white horse that had
+been brought for Otto stood waiting for him beside his father's
+great charger.
+
+"Farewell, Otto," said the good old Abbot, as he stooped and
+kissed the boy's cheek.
+
+"Farewell," answered Otto, in his simple, quiet way, and it
+brought a pang to the old man's heart that the child should seem
+to grieve so little at the leave-taking.
+
+"Farewell, Otto," said the brethren that stood about, "farewell,
+farewell."
+
+Then poor brother John came forward and took the boy's hand, and
+looked up into his face as he sat upon his horse. "We will meet
+again," said he, with his strange, vacant smile, "but maybe it
+will be in Paradise, and there perhaps they will let us lie in
+the father's belfry, and look down upon the angels in the court-
+yard below."
+
+"Aye," answered Otto, with an answering smile.
+
+"Forward," cried the Baron, in a deep voice, and with a clash of
+hoofs and jingle of armor they were gone, and the great wooden
+gates were shut to behind them.
+
+Down the steep winding pathway they rode, and out into the great
+wide world beyond, upon which Otto and brother John had gazed so
+often from the wooden belfry of the White Cross on the hill.
+
+"Hast been taught to ride a horse by the priests up yonder on
+Michaelsburg?" asked the Baron, when they had reached the level
+road.
+
+"Nay," said Otto; "we had no horse to ride, but only to bring in
+the harvest or the grapes from the further vineyards to the
+vintage."
+
+"Prut," said the Baron, "methought the abbot would have had
+enough of the blood of old days in his veins to have taught thee
+what is fitting for a knight to know; art not afeared?"
+
+"Nay," said Otto, with a smile, "I am not afeared."
+
+"There at least thou showest thyself a Vuelph," said the grim
+Baron. But perhaps Otto's thought of fear and Baron Conrad's
+thought of fear were two very different matters.
+
+The afternoon had passed by the time they had reached the end of
+their journey. Up the steep, stony path they rode to the
+drawbridge and the great gaping gateway of Drachenhausen, where
+wall and tower and battlement looked darker and more forbidding
+than ever in the gray twilight of the coming night. Little Otto
+looked up with great, wondering, awe-struck eyes at this grim
+new home of his.
+
+The next moment they clattered over the drawbridge that spanned
+the narrow black gulph between the roadway and the wall, and the
+next were past the echoing arch of the great gateway and in the
+gray gloaming of the paved court-yard within.
+
+Otto looked around upon the many faces gathered there to catch
+the first sight of the little baron; hard, rugged faces, seamed
+and weather-beaten; very different from those of the gentle
+brethren among whom he had lived, and it seemed strange to him
+that there was none there whom he should know.
+
+As he climbed the steep, stony steps to the door of the Baron's
+house, old Ursela came running down to meet him. She flung her
+withered arms around him and hugged him close to her. "My little
+child," she cried, and then fell to sobbing as though her heart
+would break.
+
+"Here is someone knoweth me," thought the little boy.
+
+His new home was all very strange and wonderful to Otto; the
+armors, the trophies, the flags, the long galleries with their
+ranges of rooms, the great hall below with its vaulted roof and
+its great fireplace of grotesquely carved stone, and all the
+strange people with their lives and thoughts so different from
+what he had been used to know.
+
+And it was a wonderful thing to explore all the strange places
+in the dark old castle; places where it seemed to Otto no one
+could have ever been before.
+
+Once he wandered down a long, dark passageway below the hall,
+pushed open a narrow, iron-bound oaken door, and found himself
+all at once in a strange new land; the gray light, coming in
+through a range of tall, narrow windows, fell upon a row of
+silent, motionless figures carven in stone, knights and ladies
+in strange armor and dress; each lying upon his or her stony
+couch with clasped hands, and gazing with fixed, motionless,
+stony eyeballs up into the gloomy, vaulted arch above them.
+There lay, in a cold, silent row, all of the Vuelphs who had
+died since the ancient castle had been built.
+
+It was the chapel into which Otto had made his way, now long
+since fallen out of use excepting as a burial place of the race.
+
+At another time he clambered up into the loft under the high
+peaked roof, where lay numberless forgotten things covered with
+the dim dust of years. There a flock of pigeons had made their
+roost, and flapped noisily out into the sunlight when he pushed
+open the door from below. Here he hunted among the mouldering
+things of the past until, oh, joy of joys! in an ancient oaken
+chest he found a great lot of worm-eaten books, that had
+belonged to some old chaplain of the castle in days gone by.
+They were not precious and beautiful volumes, such as the Father
+Abbot had showed him, but all the same they had their quaint
+painted pictures of the blessed saints and angels.
+
+Again, at another time, going into the court-yard, Otto had
+found the door of Melchior's tower standing invitingly open, for
+old Hilda, Schwartz Carl's wife, had come down below upon some
+business or other.
+
+Then upon the shaky wooden steps Otto ran without waiting for a
+second thought, for he had often gazed at those curious
+buildings hanging so far up in the air, and had wondered what
+they were like. Round and round and up and up Otto climbed,
+until his head spun. At last he reached a landing-stage, and
+gazing over the edge and down, beheld the stone pavement far,
+far below, lit by a faint glimmer of light that entered through
+the arched doorway. Otto clutched tight hold of the wooden rail,
+he had no thought that he had climbed so far.
+
+Upon the other side of the landing was a window that pierced the
+thick stone walls of the tower; out of the window he looked, and
+then drew suddenly back again with a gasp, for it was through
+the outer wall he peered, and down, down below in the dizzy
+depths he saw the hard gray rocks, where the black swine,
+looking no larger than ants in the distance, fed upon the refuse
+thrown out over the walls of the castle. There lay the moving
+tree-tops like a billowy green sea, and the coarse thatched
+roofs of the peasant cottages, round which crawled the little
+children like tiny human specks.
+
+Then Otto turned and crept down the stairs, frightened at the
+height to which he had climbed.
+
+At the doorway he met Mother Hilda. "Bless us," she cried,
+starting back and crossing herself, and then, seeing who it was,
+ducked him a courtesy with as pleasant a smile as her forbidding
+face, with its little deep-set eyes, was able to put upon
+itself.
+
+Old Ursela seemed nearer to the boy than anyone else about the
+castle, excepting it was his father, and it was a newfound
+delight to Otto to sit beside her and listen to her quaint
+stories, so different from the monkish tales that he had heard
+and read at the monastery.
+
+But one day it was a tale of a different sort that she told him,
+and one that opened his eyes to what he had never dreamed of
+before.
+
+The mellow sunlight fell through the window upon old Ursela, as
+she sat in the warmth with her distaff in her hands while Otto
+lay close to her feet upon a bear skin, silently thinking over
+the strange story of a brave knight and a fiery dragon that she
+had just told him. Suddenly Ursela broke the silence.
+
+"Little one," said she, "thou art wondrously like thy own dear
+mother; didst ever hear how she died?"
+
+Nay," said Otto, "but tell me, Ursela, how it was."
+
+"Tis strange," said the old woman, "that no one should have told
+thee in all this time." And then, in her own fashion she related
+to him the story of how his father had set forth upon that
+expedition in spite of all that Otto's mother had said,
+beseeching him to abide at home; how he had been foully wounded,
+and how the poor lady had died from her fright and grief.
+
+Otto listened with eyes that grew wider and wider, though not
+all with wonder; he no longer lay upon the bear skin, but sat up
+with his hands clasped. For a moment or two after the old woman
+had ended her story, he sat staring silently at her. Then he
+cried out, in a sharp voice, "And is this truth that you tell
+me, Ursela? and did my father seek to rob the towns people of
+their goods?"
+
+Old Ursela laughed. "Aye," said she, "that he did and many
+times. Ah! me, those day's are all gone now." And she fetched a
+deep sigh. "Then we lived in plenty and had both silks and
+linens and velvets besides in the store closets and were able to
+buy good wines and live in plenty upon the best. Now we dress in
+frieze and live upon what we can get and sometimes that is
+little enough, with nothing better than sour beer to drink. But
+there is one comfort in it all, and that is that our good Baron
+paid back the score he owed the Trutz-Drachen people not only
+for that, but for all that they had done from the very first."
+
+Thereupon she went on to tell Otto how Baron Conrad had
+fulfilled the pledge of revenge that he had made Abbot Otto, how
+he had watched day after day until one time he had caught the
+Trutz-Drachen folk, with Baron Frederick at their head, in a
+narrow defile back of the Kaiserburg; of the fierce fight that
+was there fought; of how the Roderburgs at last fled, leaving
+Baron Frederick behind them wounded; of how he had kneeled
+before the Baron Conrad, asking for mercy, and of how Baron
+Conrad had answered, "Aye, thou shalt have such mercy as thou
+deservest," and had therewith raised his great two-handed sword
+and laid his kneeling enemy dead at one blow.
+
+Poor little Otto had never dreamed that such cruelty and
+wickedness could be. He listened to the old woman's story with
+gaping horror, and when the last came and she told him, with a
+smack of her lips, how his father had killed his enemy with his
+own hand, he gave a gasping cry and sprang to his feet. Just
+then the door at the other end of the chamber was noisily
+opened, and Baron Conrad himself strode into the room. Otto
+turned his head, and seeing who it was, gave another cry, loud
+and quavering, and ran to his father and caught him by the hand.
+
+"Oh, father!" he cried, "oh, father! Is it true that thou hast
+killed a man with thy own hand?"
+
+"Aye," said the Baron, grimly, "it is true enough, and I think
+me I have killed many more than one. But what of that, Otto?
+Thou must get out of those foolish notions that the old monks
+have taught thee. Here in the world it is different from what it
+is at St. Michaelsburg; here a man must either slay or be
+slain."
+
+But poor little Otto, with his face hidden in his father's robe,
+cried as though his heart would break. "Oh, father!" he said,
+again and again, "it cannot be - it cannot be that thou who art
+so kind to me should have killed a man with thine own hands."
+Then: "I wish that I were back in the monastery again; I am
+afraid out here in the great wide world; perhaps somebody may
+kill me, for I am only a weak little boy and could not save my
+own life if they chose to take it from me."
+
+Baron Conrad looked down upon Otto all this while, drawing his
+bushy eyebrows together. Once he reached out his hand as though
+to stroke the boy's hair, but drew it back again.
+
+Turning angrily upon the old woman, "Ursela," said he, "thou
+must tell the child no more such stories as these; he knowest
+not at all of such things as yet. Keep thy tongue busy with the
+old woman's tales that he loves to hear thee tell, and leave it
+with me to teach him what becometh a true knight and a Vuelph."
+
+That night the father and son sat together beside the roaring
+fire in the great ball. "Tell me, Otto," said the Baron, "dost
+thou hate me for having done what Ursela told thee today that I
+did?"
+
+Otto looked for a while into his father's face. "I know not,"
+said he at last, in his quaint, quiet voice, "but methinks that
+I do not hate thee for it."
+
+The Baron drew his bushy brows together until his eyes twinkled
+out of the depths beneath them, then of a sudden he broke into a
+great loud laugh, smiting his horny palm with a smack upon his
+thigh.
+
+
+VII.
+
+The Red Cock Crows on Drachenhausen.
+
+There was a new emperor in Germany who had come from a far away
+Swiss castle; Count Rudolph of Hapsburg, a good, honest man with
+a good, honest, homely face, but bringing with him a stern sense
+of justice and of right, and a determination to put down the
+lawlessness of the savage German barons among whom he had come
+as Emperor.
+
+One day two strangers came galloping up the winding path to the
+gates of the Dragon's house. A horn sounded thin and clear, a
+parley was held across the chasm in the road between the two
+strangers and the porter who appeared at the little wicket. Then
+a messenger was sent running to the Baron, who presently came
+striding across the open court-yard to the gateway to parley
+with the strangers.
+
+The two bore with them a folded parchment with a great red seal
+hanging from it like a clot of blood; it was a message from the
+Emperor demanding that the Baron should come to the Imperial
+Court to answer certain charges that had been brought against
+him, and to give his bond to maintain the peace of the empire.
+
+One by one those barons who had been carrying on their private
+wars, or had been despoiling the burgher folk in their traffic
+from town to town, and against whom complaint had been lodged,
+were summoned to the Imperial Court, where they were compelled
+to promise peace and to swear allegiance to the new order of
+things. All those who came willingly were allowed to return home
+again after giving security for maintaining the peace; all those
+who came not willingly were either brought in chains or rooted
+out of their strongholds with fire and sword, and their roofs
+burned over their heads.
+
+Now it was Baron Conrad's turn to be summoned to the Imperial
+Court, for complaint had been lodged against him by his old
+enemy of Trutz-Drachen - Baron Henry - the nephew of the old Baron
+Frederick who had been slain while kneeling in the dust of the
+road back of the Kaiserburg.
+
+No one at Drachenhausen could read but Master Rudolph, the
+steward, who was sand blind, and little Otto. So the boy read
+the summons to his father, while the grim Baron sat silent with
+his chin resting upon his clenched fist and his eyebrows drawn
+together into a thoughtful frown as he gazed into the pale face
+of his son, who sat by the rude oaken table with the great
+parchment spread out before him.
+
+Should he answer the summons, or scorn it as he would have done
+under the old emperors? Baron Conrad knew not which to do; pride
+said one thing and policy another. The Emperor was a man with an
+iron hand, and Baron Conrad knew what had happened to those who
+had refused to obey the imperial commands. So at last he decided
+that he would go to the court, taking with him a suitable escort
+to support his dignity.
+
+It was with nearly a hundred armed men clattering behind him
+that Baron Conrad rode away to court to answer the imperial
+summons. The castle was stripped of its fighting men, and only
+eight remained behind to guard the great stone fortress and the
+little simple-witted boy.
+
+It was a sad mistake.
+
+Three days had passed since the Baron had left the castle, and
+now the third night had come. The moon was hanging midway in the
+sky, white and full, for it was barely past midnight.
+
+The high precipitous banks of the rocky road threw a dense black
+shadow into the gully below, and in that crooked inky line that
+scarred the white face of the moonlit rocks a band of some
+thirty men were creeping slowly and stealthily nearer and nearer
+to Castle Drachenhausen. At the head of them was a tall, slender
+knight clad in light chain armor, his head covered only by a
+steel cap or bascinet.
+
+Along the shadow they crept, with only now and then a faint
+clink or jingle of armor to break the stillness, for most of
+those who followed the armed knight were clad in leathern
+jerkins; only one or two wearing even so much as a steel breast-
+plate by way of armor.
+
+So at last they reached the chasm that yawned beneath the
+roadway, and there they stopped, for they had reached the spot
+toward which they had been journeying. It was Baron Henry of
+Trutz-Drachen who had thus come in the silence of the night time
+to the Dragon's house, and his visit boded no good to those
+within.
+
+The Baron and two or three of his men talked together in low
+tones, now and then looking up at the sheer wall that towered
+above them.
+
+"Yonder is the place, Lord Baron," said one of those who stood
+with him. "I have scanned every foot of the wall at night for a
+week past. An we get not in by that way, we get not in at all. A
+keen eye, a true aim, and a bold man are all that we need, and
+the business is done." Here again all looked upward at the gray
+wall above them, rising up in the silent night air.
+
+High aloft hung the wooden bartizan or watch-tower, clinging to
+the face of the outer wall and looming black against the pale
+sky above. Three great beams pierced the wall, and upon them the
+wooden tower rested. The middle beam jutted out beyond the rest
+to the distance of five or six feet, and the end of it was
+carved into the rude semblance of a dragon's head.
+
+"So, good," said the Baron at last; "then let us see if thy plan
+holds, and if Hans Schmidt's aim is true enough to earn the
+three marks that I have promised him. Where is the bag?"
+
+One of those who stood near handed the Baron a leathern pouch,
+the Baron opened it and drew out a ball of fine thread, another
+of twine, a coil of stout rope, and a great bundle that looked,
+until it was unrolled, like a coarse fish-net. It was a rope
+ladder. While these were being made ready, Hans Schmidt, a
+thick-set, low-browed, broad-shouldered archer, strung his stout
+bow, and carefully choosing three arrows from those in his
+quiver, he stuck them point downward in the earth. Unwinding the
+ball of thread, he laid it loosely in large loops upon the
+ground so that it might run easily without hitching, then he
+tied the end of the thread tightly around one of his arrows. He
+fitted the arrow to the bow and drew the feather to his ear.
+Twang! rang the bowstring, and the feathered messenger flew
+whistling upon its errand to the watch-tower. The very first
+shaft did the work.
+
+"Good," said Hans Schmidt, the archer, in his heavy voice, "the
+three marks are mine, Lord Baron."
+
+The arrow had fallen over and across the jutting beam between
+the carved dragon's head and the bartizan, carrying with it the
+thread, which now hung from above, glimmering white in the
+moonlight like a cobweb.
+
+The rest was an easy task enough. First the twine was drawn up
+to and over the beam by the thread, then the rope was drawn up
+by the twine, and last of all the rope ladder by the rope. There
+it hung like a thin, slender black line against the silent gray
+walls.
+
+"And now," said the Baron, "who will go first and win fifty
+marks for his own, and climb the rope ladder to the tower
+yonder?" Those around hesitated. "Is there none brave enough to
+venture?" said the Baron, after a pause of silence.
+
+A stout, young fellow, of about eighteen years of age, stepped
+forward and flung his flat leathern cap upon the ground. "I will
+go, my Lord Baron," said he.
+
+"Good," said the Baron, "the fifty marks are thine. And now
+listen, if thou findest no one in the watch-tower, whistle thus;
+if the watchman be at his post, see that thou makest all safe
+before thou givest the signal. When all is ready the others will
+follow thee. And now go and good luck go with thee."
+
+The young fellow spat upon his hands and, seizing the ropes,
+began slowly and carefully to mount the flimsy, shaking ladder.
+Those below held it as tight as they were able, but nevertheless
+he swung backward and forward and round and round as he climbed
+steadily upward. Once he stopped upon the way, and those below
+saw him clutch the ladder close to him as though dizzied by the
+height and the motion but he soon began again, up, up, up like
+some great black spider. Presently he came out from the black
+shadow below and into the white moonlight, and then his shadow
+followed him step by step up the gray wall upon his way. At
+last he reached the jutting beam, and there again he stopped for
+a moment clutching tightly to it. The next he was upon the beam,
+dragging himself toward the window of the bartizan just above.
+Slowly raising himself upon his narrow foothold he peeped
+cautiously within. Those watching him from be low saw him slip
+his hand softly to his side, and then place something between his
+teeth. It was his dagger. Reaching up, he clutched the window
+sill above him and, with a silent spring, seated himself upon
+it. The next moment he disappeared within. A few seconds of
+silence followed, then of sudden a sharp gurgling cry broke the
+stillness. There was another pause of silence, then a faint
+shrill whistle sounded from above.
+
+"Who will go next?" said the Baron. It was Hans Schmidt who
+stepped forward. Another followed the arch up the ladder, and
+another, and another. Last of all went the Baron Henry himself,
+and nothing was left but the rope ladder hanging from above, and
+swaying back and forth in the wind.
+
+That night Schwartz Carl had been bousing it over a pot of
+yellow wine in the pantry with his old crony, Master Rudolph,
+the steward; and the two, chatting and gossiping together, had
+passed the time away until long after the rest of the castle had
+been wrapped in sleep. Then, perhaps a little unsteady upon his
+feet, Schwartz Carl betook himself homeward to the Melchior
+tower.
+
+He stood for a while in the shadow of the doorway, gazing up
+into the pale sky above him at the great, bright, round moon,
+that hung like a bubble above the sharp peaks of the roofs
+standing black as ink against the sky. But all of a sudden he
+started up from the post against which he had been leaning, and
+with head bent to one side, stood listening breathlessly, for he
+too had heard that smothered cry from the watch-tower. So he
+stood intently, motionlessly, listening, listening; but all was
+silent except for the monotonous dripping of water in one of the
+nooks of the court-yard, and the distant murmur of the river
+borne upon the breath of the night air. "Mayhap I was mistaken,"
+muttered Schwartz Carl to himself.
+
+But the next moment the silence was broken again by a faint,
+shrill whistle; what did it mean?
+
+Back of the heavy oaken door of the tower was Schwartz Carl's
+cross-bow, the portable windlass with which the bowstring was
+drawn back, and a pouch of bolts. Schwartz Carl reached back
+into the darkness, fumbling in the gloom until his fingers met
+the weapon. Setting his foot in the iron stirrup at the end of
+the stock, he wound the stout bow-string into the notch of the
+trigger, and carefully fitted the heavy, murderous-looking bolt
+into the groove.
+
+Minute after minute passed, and Schwartz Carl, holding his
+arbelast in his hand, stood silently waiting and watching in the
+sharp-cut, black shadow of the doorway, motionless as a stone
+statue. Minute after minute passed. Suddenly there was a
+movement in the shadow of the arch of the great gateway across
+the court-yard, and the next moment a leathern-clad figure crept
+noiselessly out upon the moonlit pavement, and stood there
+listening, his head bent to one side. Schwartz Carl knew very
+well that it was no one belonging to the castle, and, from the
+nature of his action, that he was upon no good errand.
+
+He did not stop to challenge the suspicious stranger. The taking
+of another's life was thought too small a matter for much
+thought or care in those days. Schwartz Carl would have shot a
+man for a much smaller reason than the suspicious actions of
+this fellow. The leather-clad figure stood a fine target in the
+moonlight for a cross-bow bolt. Schwartz Carl slowly raised the
+weapon to his shoulder and took a long and steady aim. Just then
+the stranger put his fingers to his lips and gave a low, shrill
+whistle. It was the last whistle that he was to give upon this
+earth. There was a sharp, jarring twang of the bow-string, the
+hiss of the flying bolt, and the dull thud as it struck its
+mark. The man gave a shrill, quavering cry, and went staggering
+back, and then fell all of a heap against the wall behind him.
+As though in answer to the cry, half a dozen men rushed
+tumultuously out from the shadow of the gateway whence the
+stranger had just come, and then stood in the court-yard,
+looking uncertainly this way and that, not knowing from what
+quarter the stroke had come that had laid their comrade low.
+
+But Schwartz Carl did not give them time to discover that; there
+was no chance to string his cumbersome weapon again; down he
+flung it upon the ground. "To arms!" he roared in a voice of
+thunder, and then clapped to the door of Melchior's tower and
+shot the great iron bolts with a clang and rattle.
+
+The next instant the Trutz-Drachen men were thundering at the
+door, but Schwartz Carl was already far up the winding steps.
+
+But now the others came pouring out from the gateway. "To the
+house," roared Baron Henry.
+
+Then suddenly a clashing, clanging uproar crashed out upon the
+night. Dong! Dong! It was the great alarm bell from Melchior's
+tower - Schwartz Carl was at his post.
+
+Little Baron Otto lay sleeping upon the great rough bed in his
+room, dreaming of the White Cross on the hill and of brother
+John. By and by he heard the convent bell ringing, and knew that
+there must be visitors at the gate, for loud voices sounded
+through his dream. Presently he knew that he was coming awake,
+but though the sunny monastery garden grew dimmer and dimmer to
+his sleeping sight, the clanging of the bell and the sound of
+shouts grew louder and louder. Then he opened his eyes. Flaming
+red lights from torches, carried hither and thither by people in
+the court-yard outside, flashed and ran along the wall of his
+room. Hoarse shouts and cries filled the air, and suddenly the
+shrill, piercing shriek of a woman rang from wall to wall; and
+through the noises the great bell from far above upon Melchior's
+tower clashed and clanged its harsh, resonant alarm.
+
+Otto sprang from his bed and looked out of the window and down
+upon the court-yard below. "Dear God! what dreadful thing hath
+happened?" he cried and clasped his hands together.
+
+A cloud of smoke was pouring out from the windows of the
+building across the court-yard, whence a dull ruddy glow flashed
+and flickered. Strange men were running here and there with
+flaming torches, and the now continuous shrieking of women
+pierced the air.
+
+Just beneath the window lay the figure of a man half naked and
+face downward upon the stones. Then suddenly Otto cried out in
+fear and horror, for, as he looked with dazed and bewildered
+eyes down into the lurid court-yard beneath, a savage man, in a
+shining breast-plate and steel cap, came dragging the dark,
+silent figure of a woman across the stones; but whether she was
+dead or in a swoon, Otto could not tell.
+
+And every moment the pulsing of that dull red glare from the
+windows of the building across the court-yard shone more
+brightly, and the glare from other flaming buildings, which Otto
+could not see from his window, turned the black, starry night
+into a lurid day.
+
+Just then the door of the room was burst open, and in rushed
+poor old Ursela, crazy with her terror. She flung herself down
+upon the floor and caught Otto around the knees. "Save me!" she
+cried, "save me!" as though the poor, pale child could be of any
+help to her at such a time. In the passageway without shone the
+light of torches, and the sound of loud footsteps came nearer
+and nearer.
+
+And still through all the din sounded continually the clash and
+clang and clamor of the great alarm bell.
+
+The red light flashed into the room, and in the doorway stood a
+tall, thin figure clad from head to foot in glittering chain
+armor. From behind this fierce knight, with his dark, narrow,
+cruel face, its deep-set eyes glistening in the light of the
+torches, crowded six or eight savage, low-browed, brutal men,
+who stared into the room and at the white-faced boy as he stood
+by the window with the old woman clinging to his knees and
+praying to him for help.
+
+"We have cracked the nut and here is the kernel," said one of
+them who stood behind the rest, and thereupon a roar of brutal
+laughter went up. But the cruel face of the armed knight never
+relaxed into a smile; he strode into the room and laid his iron
+hand heavily upon the boy's shoulder. "Art thou the young Baron
+Otto?" said he, in a harsh voice.
+
+"Aye," said the lad; "but do not kill me."
+
+The knight did not answer him. "Fetch the cord hither," said he,
+"and drag the old witch away."
+
+It took two of them to loosen poor old Ursela's crazy clutch
+from about her young master. Then amid roars of laughter they
+dragged her away, screaming and scratching and striking with her
+fists.
+
+They drew back Otto's arms behind his back and wrapped them
+round and round with a bowstring. Then they pushed and hustled
+and thrust him forth from the room and along the passageway, now
+bright with the flames that roared and crackled without. Down
+the steep stairway they drove him, where thrice he stumbled and
+fell amid roars of laughter. At last they were out into the open
+air of the court-yard. Here was a terrible sight, but Otto saw
+nothing of it; his blue eyes were gazing far away, and his lips
+moved softly with the prayer that the good monks of St.
+Michaelsburg had taught him, for he thought that they meant to
+slay him.
+
+All around the court-yard the flames roared and snapped and
+crackled. Four or five figures lay scattered here and there,
+silent in all the glare and uproar. The heat was so intense that
+they were soon forced back into the shelter of the great
+gateway, where the women captives, under the guard of three or
+four of the Trutz-Drachen men, were crowded together in dumb,
+bewildered terror. Only one man was to be seen among the
+captives, poor, old, half blind Master Rudolph, the steward, who
+crouched tremblingly among the women. They had set the blaze to
+Melchior's tower, and now, below, it was a seething furnace.
+Above, the smoke rolled in black clouds from the windows, but
+still the alarm bell sounded through all the blaze and smoke.
+Higher and higher the flames rose; a trickle of fire ran along
+the frame buildings hanging aloft in the air. A clear flame
+burst out at the peak of the roof, but still the bell rang forth
+its clamorous clangor. Presently those who watched below saw the
+cluster of buildings bend and sink and sway; there was a crash
+and roar, a cloud of sparks flew up as though to the very
+heavens themselves, and the bell of Melchior's tower was stilled
+forever. A great shout arose from the watching, upturned faces.
+
+"Forward!" cried Baron Henry, and out from the gateway they
+swept and across the drawbridge, leaving Drachenhausen behind
+them a flaming furnace blazing against the gray of the early
+dawning.
+
+
+VIII.
+
+In the House of the Dragon Scorner.
+
+Tall, narrow, gloomy room; no furniture but a rude bench a bare
+stone floor, cold stone walls and a gloomy ceiling of arched
+stone over head; a long, narrow slit of a window high above in
+the wall, through the iron bars of which Otto could see a small
+patch of blue sky and now and then a darting swallow, for an
+instant seen, the next instant gone. Such was the little baron's
+prison in Trutz-Drachen. Fastened to a bolt and hanging against
+the walls, hung a pair of heavy chains with gaping fetters at
+the ends. They were thick with rust, and the red stain of the
+rust streaked the wall below where they hung like a smear of
+blood. Little Otto shuddered as he looked at them; can those be
+meant for me, he thought.
+
+Nothing was to be seen but that one patch of blue sky far up in
+the wall. No sound from without was to be heard in that gloomy
+cell of stone, for the window pierced the outer wall, and the
+earth and its noises lay far below.
+
+Suddenly a door crashed without, and the footsteps of men were
+heard coming along the corridor. They stopped in front of Otto's
+cell; he heard the jingle of keys, and then a loud rattle of one
+thrust into the lock of the heavy oaken door. The rusty bolt was
+shot back with a screech, the door opened, and there stood Baron
+Henry, no longer in his armor, but clad in a long black robe
+that reached nearly to his feet, a broad leather belt was
+girdled about his waist, and from it dangled a short, heavy
+hunting sword.
+
+Another man was with the Baron, a heavy-faced fellow clad in a
+leathern jerkin over which was drawn a short coat of linked
+mail.
+
+The two stood for a moment looking into the room, and Otto, his
+pale face glimmering in the gloom, sat upon the edge of the
+heavy wooden bench or bed, looking back at them out of his great
+blue eyes. Then the two entered and closed the door behind them.
+
+"Dost thou know why thou art here?" said the Baron, in his deep,
+harsh voice.
+
+"Nay," said Otto, "I know not."
+
+"So?" said the Baron. "Then I will tell thee. Three years ago
+the good Baron Frederick, my uncle, kneeled in the dust and
+besought mercy at thy father's hands; the mercy he received was
+the coward blow that slew him. Thou knowest the story?"
+
+"Aye," said Otto, tremblingly, "I know it."
+
+"Then dost thou not know why I am here?" said the Baron.
+
+"Nay, dear Lord Baron, I know not," said poor little Otto, and
+began to weep.
+
+The Baron stood for a moment or two looking gloomily upon him,
+as the little boy sat there with the tears running down his
+white face.
+
+"I will tell thee," said he, at last; "I swore an oath that the
+red cock should crow on Drachenhausen, and I have given it to
+the dames. I swore an oath that no Vuelph that ever left my
+hands should be able to strike such a blow as thy father gave to
+Baron Frederick, and now I will fulfil that too. Catch the boy,
+Casper, and hold him."
+
+As the man in the mail shirt stepped toward little Otto, the boy
+leaped up from where he sat and caught the Baron about the
+knees. "Oh! dear Lord Baron," he cried, "do not harm me; I am
+only a little child, I have never done harm to thee; do not harm
+me."
+
+"Take him away," said the Baron, harshly.
+
+The fellow stooped, and loosening Otto's hold, in spite of his
+struggles and cries, carried him to the bench, against which he
+held him, whilst the Baron stood above him.
+
+Baron Henry and the other came forth from the cell, carefully
+closing the wooden door behind them. At the end of the corridor
+the Baron turned, "Let the leech be sent to the boy," said he.
+And then he turned and walked away.
+
+Otto lay upon the hard couch in his cell, covered with a shaggy
+bear skin. His face was paler and thinner than ever, and dark
+rings encircled his blue eyes. He was looking toward the door,
+for there was a noise of someone fumbling with the lock without.
+
+Since that dreadful day when Baron Henry had come to his cell,
+only two souls had visited Otto. One was the fellow who had come
+with the Baron that time; his name, Otto found, was Casper. He
+brought the boy his rude meals of bread and meat and water. The
+other visitor was the leech or doctor, a thin, weasand little
+man, with a kindly, wrinkled face and a gossiping tongue, who,
+besides binding wounds, bleeding, and leeching, and
+administering his simple remedies to those who were taken sick
+in the castle, acted as the Baron's barber.
+
+The Baron had left the key in the lock of the door, so that
+these two might enter when they chose, but Otto knew that it was
+neither the one nor the other whom he now heard at the door,
+working uncertainly with the key, striving to turn it in the
+rusty, cumbersome lock. At last the bolts grated back, there was
+a pause, and then the door opened a little way, and Otto thought
+that he could see someone peeping in from without. By and by the
+door opened further, there was another pause, and then a
+slender, elfish-looking little girl, with straight black hair
+and shining black eyes, crept noiselessly into the room.
+
+She stood close by the door with her finger in her mouth,
+staring at the boy where he lay upon his couch, and Otto upon
+his part lay, full of wonder, gazing back upon the little elfin
+creature.
+
+She, seeing that he made no sign or motion, stepped a little
+nearer, and then, after a moment's pause, a little nearer still,
+until, at last, she stood within a few feet of where he lay.
+
+"Art thou the Baron Otto?" said she.
+
+"Yes," answered Otto.
+
+"Prut!" said she, "and is that so! Why, I thought that thou wert
+a great tall fellow at least, and here thou art a little boy no
+older than Carl Max, the gooseherd." Then, after a little pause
+- "My name is Pauline, and my father is the Baron. I heard him
+tell my mother all about thee, and so I wanted to come here and
+see thee myself: Art thou sick?"
+
+"Yes," said Otto, "I am sick."
+
+"And did my father hurt thee?"
+
+"Aye," said Otto, and his eyes filled with tears, until one
+sparkling drop trickled slowly down his white face.
+
+Little Pauline stood looking seriously at him for a while. "I am
+sorry for thee, Otto," said she, at last. And then, at her
+childish pity, he began crying in earnest.
+
+This was only the first visit of many from the little maid, for
+after that she often came to Otto's prison, who began to look
+for her coming from day to day as the one bright spot in the
+darkness and the gloom.
+
+Sitting upon the edge of his bed and gazing into his face with
+wide open eyes, she would listen to him by the hour, as he told
+her of his life in that far away monastery home; of poor, simple
+brother John's wonderful visions, of the good Abbot's books with
+their beautiful pictures, and of all the monkish tales and
+stories of knights and dragons and heroes and emperors of
+ancient Rome, which brother Emmanuel had taught him to read in
+the crabbed monkish Latin in which they were written.
+
+One day the little maid sat for a long while silent after he had
+ended speaking. At last she drew a deep breath. "And are all
+these things that thou tellest me about the priests in their
+castle really true? " said she.
+
+"Yes," said Otto, "all are true."
+
+"And do they never go out to fight other priests?"
+
+"No," said Otto, "they know nothing of fighting."
+
+"So!" said she. And then fell silent in the thought of the
+wonder of it all, and that there should be men in the world that
+knew nothing of violence and bloodshed; for in all the eight
+years of her life she had scarcely been outside of the walls of
+Castle Trutz-Drachen
+
+At another time it was of Otto's mother that they were speaking.
+
+"And didst thou never see her, Otto?" said the little girl.
+
+"Aye," said Otto, "I see her sometimes in my dreams, and her
+face always shines so bright that I know she is an angel; for
+brother John has often seen the dear angels, and  he tells me
+that their faces always shine in that way. I saw her the night
+thy father hurt me so, for I could not sleep and my head felt as
+though it would break asunder. Then she came and leaned over me
+and kissed my forehead, and after that I fell asleep."
+
+"But where did she come from, Otto?" said the little girl.
+
+"From paradise, I think," said Otto, with that patient
+seriousness that he had caught from the monks, and that sat so
+quaintly upon him.
+
+"So!" said little Pauline; and then, after a pause, "That is why
+thy mother kissed thee when thy head ached - because she is an
+angel. When I was sick my mother bade Gretchen carry me to a far
+part of the house, because I cried and so troubled her. Did thy
+mother ever strike thee, Otto?"
+
+"Nay," said Otto.
+
+"Mine hath often struck me," said Pauline.
+
+One day little Pauline came bustling into Otto's cell, her head
+full of the news which she carried. "My father says that thy
+father is out in the woods somewhere yonder, back of the castle,
+for Fritz, the swineherd, told my father that last night he had
+seen a fire in the woods, and that he had crept up to it without
+anyone knowing. There he had seen the Baron Conrad and six of
+his men, and that they were eating one of the swine that they
+had killed and roasted. "Maybe," said she, seating herself upon
+the edge of Otto's couch; "maybe my father will kill thy father,
+and they will bring him here and let him lie upon a black bed
+with bright candles burning around him, as they did my uncle
+Frederick when he was killed."
+
+"God forbid!" said Otto, and then lay for a while with his hands
+clasped. "Dost thou love me, Pauline?" said he, after a while.
+
+"Yes," said Pauline, "for thou art a good child, though my
+father says that thy wits are cracked."
+
+"Mayhap they are," said Otto, simply, "for I have often been
+told so before. But thou wouldst not see me die, Pauline;
+wouldst thou?"
+
+"Nay," said Pauline, "I would not see thee die, for then thou
+couldst tell me no more stories; for they told me that uncle
+Frederick could not speak because he was dead."
+
+"Then listen, Pauline," said Otto; "if I go not away from here I
+shall surely die. Every day I grow more sick and the leech
+cannot cure me." Here he broke down and, turning his face upon
+the couch, began crying, while little Pauline sat looking
+seriously at him.
+
+"Why dost thou cry, Otto?" said she, after a while.
+
+"Because," said he, "I am so sick, and I want my father to come
+and take me away from here."
+
+"But why dost thou want to go away?" said Pauline. "If thy
+father takes thee away, thou canst not tell me any more
+stories."
+
+"Yes, I can," said Otto, "for when I grow to be a man I will
+come again and marry thee, and when thou art my wife I can tell
+thee all the stories that I know. Dear Pauline, canst thou not
+tell my father where I am, that he may come here and take me
+away before I die?"
+
+"Mayhap I could do so," said Pauline, after a little while, "for
+sometimes I go with Casper Max to see his mother, who nursed me
+when I was a baby. She is the wife of Fritz, the swineherd, and
+she will make him tell thy father; for she will do whatever I
+ask of her, and Fritz will do whatever she bids him do."
+
+"And for my sake, wilt thou tell him, Pauline?" said Otto.
+
+"But see, Otto," said the little girl, "if I tell him, wilt thou
+promise to come indeed and marry me when thou art grown a man?"
+
+Yes," said Otto, very seriously, " I will promise."
+
+"Then I will tell thy father where thou art," said she.
+
+"But thou wilt do it without the Baron Henry knowing, wilt thou
+not, Pauline?"
+
+"Yes," said she, "for if my father and my mother knew that I did
+such a thing, they would strike me, mayhap send me to my bed
+alone in the dark."
+
+
+IX.
+
+How One-eyed Hans came to Trutz-Drachen.
+
+Fritz, the swineherd, sat eating his late supper of porridge out
+of a great, coarse, wooden bowl; wife Katherine sat at the other
+end of the table, and the half-naked little children played upon
+the earthen floor. A shaggy dog lay curled up in front of the
+fire, and a grunting pig scratched against a leg of the rude
+table close beside where the woman sat.
+
+"Yes, yes," said Katherine, speaking of the matter of which they
+had already been talking. "It is all very true that the
+Drachenhausens are a bad lot, and I for one am of no mind to say
+no to that; all the same it is a sad thing that a simple-witted
+little child like the young Baron should be so treated as the
+boy has been; and now that our Lord Baron has served him so that
+he, at least, will never be able to do us 'harm, I for one say
+that he should not be left there to die alone in that black
+cell."
+
+Fritz, the swineherd, gave a grunt at this without raising his
+eyes from the bowl.
+
+"Yes, good," said Katherine, "I know what thou meanest, Fritz,
+and that it is none of my business to be thrusting my finger
+into the Baron's dish. But to hear the way that dear little
+child spoke when she was here this morn - it would have moved a
+heart of stone to hear her tell of all his pretty talk. Thou
+wilt try to let the red-beard know that that poor boy, his son,
+is sick to death in the black cell; wilt thou not, Fritz?"
+
+The swineherd dropped his wooden spoon into the bowl with a
+clatter. "Potstausand!" he cried; "art thou gone out of thy head
+to let thy wits run upon such things as this of which thou
+talkest to me? If it should come to our Lord Baron's ears he
+would cut the tongue from out thy head and my head from off my
+shoulders for it. Dost thou think I am going to meddle in such a
+matter as this ? Listen! these proud Baron folk, with their
+masterful ways, drive our sort hither and thither; they beat us,
+they drive us, they kill us as they choose. Our lives are not as
+much to them as one of my black swine. Why should I trouble my
+head if they choose to lop and trim one another? The fewer there
+are of them the better for us, say I. We poor folk have a hard
+enough life of it without thrusting our heads into the noose to
+help them out of their troubles. What thinkest thou would happen
+to us if Baron Henry should hear of our betraying his affairs to
+the Red-beard?"
+
+"Nay," said Katherine, "thou hast naught to do in the matter but
+to tell the Red-beard in what part of the castle the little
+Baron lies."
+
+"And what good would that do?" said Fritz, the swineherd.
+
+"I know not," said Katherine, "but I have promised the little
+one that thou wouldst find the Baron Conrad and tell him that
+much."
+
+"Thou hast promised a mare's egg," said her husband, angrily.
+"How shall I find the Baron Conrad to bear a message to him,
+when our Baron has been looking for him in vain for two days
+past?"
+
+"Thou has found him once and thou mayst find him again," said
+Katherine, "for it is not likely that he will keep far away from
+here whilst his boy is in such sore need of help."
+
+"I will have nothing to do with it!" said Fritz, and he got up
+from the wooden block whereon he was sitting and stumped out of
+the house. But, then, Katherine had heard him talk in that way
+before, and knew, in spite of his saying "no," that, sooner or
+later, he would do as she wished.
+
+Two days later a very stout little one-eyed man, clad in a
+leathern jerkin and wearing a round leathern cap upon his head,
+came toiling up the path to the postern door of Trutz-Drachen,
+his back bowed under the burthen of a great peddler's pack. It
+was our old friend the one-eyed Hans, though even his brother
+would hardly have known him in his present guise, for, besides
+having turned peddler, he had grown of a sudden surprisingly
+fat.
+
+Rap-tap-tap! He knocked at the door with a knotted end of the
+crooked thorned staff upon which he leaned. He waited for a
+while and then knocked again - rap-tap-tap!
+
+Presently, with a click, a little square wicket that pierced the
+door was opened, and a woman's face peered out through the iron
+bars.
+
+The one-eyed Hans whipped off his leathern cap.
+
+"Good day, pretty one," said he, "and hast thou any need of
+glass beads, ribbons, combs, or trinkets? Here I am come all the
+way from Gruenstadt, with a pack full of such gay things as thou
+never laid eyes on before. Here be rings and bracelets and
+necklaces that might be of pure silver and set with diamonds and
+rubies, for anything that thy dear one could tell if he saw thee
+decked in them. And all are so cheap that thou hast only to say,
+'I want them,' and they are thine."
+
+The frightened face at the window looked from right to left and
+from left to right. "Hush," said the girl, and laid her finger
+upon her lips. "There! thou hadst best get away from here, poor
+soul, as fast as thy legs can carry thee, for if the Lord Baron
+should find thee here talking secretly at the postern door, he
+would loose the wolf-hounds upon thee."
+
+"Prut," said one-eyed Hans, with a grin, "the Baron is too big a
+fly to see such a little gnat as I; but wolf-hounds or no wolf-
+hounds, I can never go hence without showing thee the pretty
+things that I have brought from the town, even though my stay be
+at the danger of my own hide."
+
+He flung the pack from off his shoulders as he spoke and fell to
+unstrapping it, while the round face of the lass (her eyes big
+with curiosity) peered down at him through the grated iron bars.
+
+Hans held up a necklace of blue and white beads that glistened
+like jewels in the sun, and from them hung a gorgeous filigree
+cross. "Didst thou ever see a sweeter thing than this?" said he;
+"and look, here is a comb that even the silversmith would swear
+was pure silver all the way through." Then, in a soft, wheedling
+voice, "Canst thou not let me in, my little bird? Sure there are
+other lasses besides thyself who would like to trade with a poor
+peddler who has travelled all the way from Gruenstadt just to
+please the pretty ones of Trutz-Drachen."
+
+"Nay," said the lass, in a frightened voice, " I cannot let thee
+in; I know not what the Baron would do to me, even now, if he
+knew that I was here talking to a stranger at the postern;" and
+she made as if she would clap to the little window in his face;
+but the one-eyed Hans thrust his staff betwixt the bars and so
+kept the shutter open.
+
+"Nay, nay," said he, eagerly, "do not go away from me too soon.
+Look, dear one; seest thou this necklace?"
+
+"Aye," said she, looking hungrily at it.
+
+"Then listen; if thou wilt but let me into the castle, so that I
+may strike a trade, I will give it to thee for thine own without
+thy paying a barley corn for it."
+
+The girl looked and hesitated, and then looked again; the
+temptation was too great. There was a noise of softly drawn
+bolts and bars, the door was hesitatingly opened a little way,
+and, in a twinkling, the one-eyed Hans had slipped inside the
+castle, pack and all.
+
+"The necklace," said the girl, in a frightened whisper.
+
+Hans thrust it into her hand. "It's thine," said he, "and now
+wilt thou not help me to a trade?"
+
+"I will tell my sister that thou art here," said she, and away
+she ran from the little stone hallway, carefully bolting and
+locking the further door behind her.
+
+The door that the girl had locked was the only one that
+connected the postern hail with the castle.
+
+The one-eyed Hans stood looking after her. "Thou fool!" he muttered
+to himself, "to lock the door behind thee. What shall I do next,
+I should like to know? Here am I just as badly off as I was when
+I stood outside the walls. Thou hussy! If thou hadst but let me
+into the castle for only two little minutes, I would have found
+somewhere to have hidden myself while thy back was turned. But
+what shall I do now?" He rested his pack upon the floor and
+stood looking about him.
+
+Built in the stone wall opposite to him, was a high, narrow
+fireplace without carving of any sort. As Hans' one eye wandered
+around the bare stone space, his glance fell at last upon it,
+and there it rested. For a while he stood looking intently at
+it, presently he began rubbing his hand over his bristling chin
+in a thoughtful, meditative manner. Finally he drew a deep
+breath, and giving himself a shake as though to arouse himself
+from his thoughts, and after listening a moment or two to make
+sure that no one was nigh, he walked softly to the fireplace,
+and stooping, peered up the chimney. Above him yawned a black
+cavernous depth, inky with the soot of years. Hans straightened
+himself, and tilting his leathern cap to one side, began
+scratching his bullet-head; at last he drew a long breath. "Yes,
+good," he muttered to himself; "he who jumps into the river must
+e'en swim the best he can. It is a vile, dirty place to thrust
+one's self; but I am in for it now, and must make the best of a
+lame horse."
+
+He settled the cap more firmly upon his head, spat upon his
+hands, and once more stooping in the fireplace, gave a leap, and
+up the chimney he went with a rattle of loose mortar and a black
+trickle of soot.
+
+By and by footsteps sounded outside the door. There was a pause;
+a hurried whispering of women's voices; the twitter of a nervous
+laugh, and then the door was pushed softly opens and the girl to
+whom the one-eyed Hans had given the necklace of blue and white
+beads with the filigree cross hanging from it, peeped
+uncertainly into the room. Behind her broad, heavy face were
+three others, equally homely and stolid; for a while all four
+stood there, looking blankly into the room and around it.
+Nothing was there but the peddler's knapsack lying in the middle
+of the floor-the man was gone. The light of expectancy slowly
+faded Out of the girl's face, and in its place succeeded first
+bewilderment and then dull alarm. "But, dear heaven," she said,
+"where then has the peddler man gone?"
+
+A moment or two of silence followed her speech. "Perhaps," said
+one of the others, in a voice hushed with awe, "perhaps it was
+the evil one himself to whom thou didst open the door."
+
+Again there was a hushed and breathless pause; it was the lass
+who had let Hans in at the postern, who next spoke.
+
+"Yes," said she, in a voice trembling with fright at what she
+had done, "yes, it must have been the evil one, for now I
+remember he had but one eye." The four girls crossed themselves,
+and their eyes grew big and round with the fright.
+
+Suddenly a shower of mortar came rattling down the chimney.
+"Ach!" cried the four, as with one voice. Bang! the door was
+clapped to and away they scurried like a flock of frightened
+rabbits.
+
+When Jacob, the watchman, came that way an hour later, upon his
+evening round of the castle, he found a peddler's knapsack lying
+in the middle of the floor. He turned it over with his pike-
+staff and saw that it was full of beads and trinkets and
+ribbons.
+
+"How came this here?" said he. And then, without waiting for
+the answer which he did not expect, he flung it over his
+shoulder and marched away with it.
+
+
+X.
+
+How Hans Brought Terror to the Kitchen.
+
+Hans found himself in a pretty pickle in the chimney, for the
+soot got into his one eye and set it to watering, and into his
+nose and set him to sneezing, and into his mouth and his ears
+and his hair. But still he struggled on, up and up; "for every
+chimney has a top," said Hans to himself "and I am sure to climb
+out somewhere or other." Suddenly he came to a place where
+another chimney joined the one he was climbing, and here he
+stopped to consider the matter at his leisure. "See now," he
+muttered, "if I still go upward I may come out at the top of
+some tall chimney-stack with no way of getting down outside.
+Now, below here there must be a fire-place somewhere, for a
+chimney does not start from nothing at all; yes, good! we will
+go down a while and see what we make of that."
+
+It was a crooked, zigzag road that he had to travel, and rough
+and hard into the bargain. His one eye tingled and smarted, and
+his knees and elbows were rubbed to the quick; nevertheless One-
+eyed Hans had been in worse trouble than this in his life.
+
+Down he went and down he went, further than he had climbed
+upward before. "Sure, I must be near some place or other," he
+thought.
+
+As though in instant answer to his thoughts, he heard the sudden
+sound of a voice so close beneath him that he stopped short in
+his downward climbing and stood as still as a mouse, with his
+heart in his mouth. A few inches more and he would have been
+discovered; - what would have happened then would have been no
+hard matter to foretell.
+
+Hans braced his back against one side of the chimney, his feet
+against the other and then, leaning forward, looked down between
+his knees. The gray light of the coming evening glimmered in a
+wide stone fireplace just below him. Within the fireplace two
+people were moving about upon the broad hearth, a great, fat
+woman and a shock-headed boy. The woman held a spit with two
+newly trussed fowls upon it, so that One-eyed Hans knew that she
+must be the cook.
+
+"Thou ugly toad," said the woman to the boy, "did I not bid thee
+make a fire an hour ago? and now, here there is not so much as a
+spark to roast the fowls withall, and they to be basted for the
+lord Baron's supper. Where hast thou been for all this time?"
+
+No matter," said the boy, sullenly, as he laid the fagots ready
+for the lighting; "no matter, I was not running after Long
+Jacob, the bowman, to try to catch him for a sweetheart, as thou
+hast been doing."
+
+The reply was instant and ready. The cook raised her hand;
+"smack!" she struck and a roar from the scullion followed.
+
+"Yes, good," thought Hans, as he looked down upon them; "I am
+glad that the boy's ear was not on my head."
+
+"Now give me no more of thy talk," said the woman, "but do the
+work that thou hast been bidden." Then - "How came all this
+black soot here, I should like to know?"
+
+"How should I know?" snuffled the scullion, "mayhap thou wouldst
+blame that on me also?"
+
+"That is my doing," whispered Hans to himself; "but if they
+light the fire, what then becomes of me?"
+
+"See now," said the cook; "I go to make the cakes ready; if I
+come back and find that thou hast not built the fire, I will
+warm thy other ear for thee."
+
+"So," thought Hans; "then will be my time to come down the
+chimney, for there will be but one of them."
+
+The next moment he heard the door close and knew that the cook
+had gone to make the cakes ready as she said. And as he looked
+down he saw that the boy was bending over the bundle of fagots,
+blowing the spark that he had brought in upon the punk into a
+flame. The dry fagots began to crackle and blaze. "Now is my
+time," said Hans to himself. Bracing his elbows against each
+side of the chimney, he straightened his legs so that he might
+fall clear His motions loosened little shower of soot that fell
+rattling upon the fagots that were now beginning to blaze
+brightly, whereupon the boy raised his face and looked up. Hans
+loosened his hold upon the chimney; crash! he fell, lighting
+upon his feet in the midst of the burning fagots. The scullion
+boy tumbled backward upon the floor, where he lay upon the broad
+of his back with a face as white as dough and eyes and mouth
+agape, staring speechlessly at the frightful inky-black figure
+standing in the midst of the flames and smoke. Then his
+scattered wits came back to him. "It is the evil one," he
+roared. And thereupon, turning upon his side, he half rolled,
+half scrambled to the door. Then out he leaped and, banging it
+to behind him, flew down the passageway, yelling with fright and
+never daring once to look behind him.
+
+All the time One-eyed Hans was brushing away the sparks that
+clung to his clothes. He was as black as ink from head to foot
+with the soot from the chimney.
+
+"So far all is good," he muttered to himself, "but if I go
+wandering about in my sooty shoes I will leave black tracks to
+follow me, so there is nothing to do but e'en to go barefoot.
+
+He stooped and drawing the pointed soft leather shoes from his
+feet, he threw them upon the now blazing fagots, where they
+writhed and twisted and wrinkled, and at last burst into a
+flame. Meanwhile Hans lost no time; he must find a hiding-place,
+and quickly, if he would yet hope to escape. A great bread
+trough stood in the corner of the kitchen - a hopper-shaped
+chest with a flat lid. It was the best hiding place that the
+room afforded. Without further thought Hans ran to it, snatching
+up from the table as he passed a loaf of black bread and a
+bottle half full of stale wine, for he had had nothing to eat
+since that morning. Into the great bread trough he climbed, and
+drawing the lid down upon him, curled himself up as snugly as a
+mouse in its nest.
+
+For a while the kitchen lay in silence, but at last the sound of
+voices was heard at the door, whispering together in low tones.
+Suddenly the door was flung open and a tall, lean, lantern-jawed
+fellow, clad in rough frieze, strode into the room and stood
+there glaring with half frightened boldness around about him;
+three or four women and the trembling scullion crowded together
+in a frightened group behind him.
+
+The man was Long Jacob, the bowman; but, after all, his boldness
+was all wasted, for not a thread or a hair was to be seen, but
+only the crackling fire throwing its cheerful ruddy glow upon
+the wall of the room, now rapidly darkening in the falling gray
+of the twilight without.
+
+The fat cook's fright began rapidly to turn into anger.
+
+"Thou imp," she cried, "it is one of thy tricks," and she made a
+dive for the scullion, who ducked around the skirts of one of
+the other women and so escaped for the time; but Long Jacob
+wrinkled up his nose and sniffed. "Nay," said he, "me thinks
+that there lieth some truth in the tale that the boy hath told,
+for here is a vile smell of burned horn that the black one bath
+left behind him."
+
+It was the smell from the soft leather shoes that Hans had
+burned.
+
+The silence of night had fallen over the Castle of Trutz-
+Drachen; not a sound was heard but the squeaking of mice
+scurring behind the wainscoting, the dull dripping of moisture
+from the eaves, or the sighing of the night wind around the
+gables and through the naked windows of the castle.
+
+The lid of the great dough trough was softly raised, and a face,
+black with soot, peeped cautiously out from under it. Then
+little by little arose a figure as black as the face; and One-
+eyed Hans stepped out upon the floor, stretching and rubbing
+himself.
+
+"Methinks I must have slept," he muttered. " Hui, I am as stiff
+as a new leather doublet, and now, what next is to become of me?
+I hope my luck may yet stick to me, in spite of this foul black
+soot!"
+
+Along the middle of the front of the great hall of the castle,
+ran a long stone gallery, opening at one end upon the court-yard
+by a high flight of stone steps. A man-at-arms in breast-plate
+and steel cap, and bearing a long pike, paced up and down the
+length of this gallery, now and then stopping, leaning over the
+edge, and gazing up into the starry sky above; then, with a long
+drawn yawn, lazily turning back to the monotonous watch again.
+
+A dark figure crept out from an arched doorway at the lower part
+of the long straight building, and some little distance below
+the end gallery, but the sentry saw nothing of it, for his back
+was turned. As silently and as stealthily as a cat the figure
+crawled along by the dark shadowy wall, now and then stopping,
+and then again creeping slowly forward toward the gallery where
+the man-at-arms moved monotonously up and down. It was One-eyed
+Hans in his bare feet.
+
+Inch by inch, foot by foot - the black figure crawled along in
+the angle of the wall; inch by inch and foot by foot, but ever
+nearer and nearer to the long straight row of stone steps that
+led to the covered gallery. At last it crouched at the lowest
+step of the flight. Just then the sentinel upon watch came to
+the very end of the gallery and stood there leaning upon his
+spear. Had he looked down below he could not have failed to have
+seen One-eyed Hans lying there motionlessly; but he was gazing
+far away over the steep black roofs beyond, and never saw the
+unsuspected presence. Minute after minute passed, and the one
+stood there looking out into the night and the other lay
+crouching by the wall; then with a weary sigh the sentry turned
+and began slowly pacing back again toward the farther end of the
+gallery.
+
+Instantly the motionless figure below arose and glided
+noiselessly and swiftly up the flight of steps.
+
+Two rude stone pillars flanked either side of the end of the
+gallery. Like a shadow the black figure slipped behind one of
+these, flattening itself up against the wall, where it stood
+straight and motionless as the shadows around it.
+
+Down the long gallery came the watchman, his sword clinking
+loudly in the silence as he walked, tramp, tramp, tramp! clink,
+clank, jingle.
+
+Within three feet of the motionless figure behind the pillar he
+turned, and began retracing his monotonous steps. Instantly the
+other left the shadow of the post and crept rapidly and
+stealthily after him. One step, two steps the sentinel took; for
+a moment the black figure behind him seemed to crouch and draw
+together, then like a flash it leaped forward upon its victim.
+
+A shadowy cloth fell upon the man's face, and in an instant he
+was flung back and down with a muffled crash upon the stones.
+Then followed a fierce and silent struggle in the darkness, but
+strong and sturdy as the man was, he was no match for the almost
+superhuman strength of One-eyed Hans. The cloth which he had
+flung over his head was tied tightly and securely. Then the man
+was forced upon his face and, in spite of his fierce struggles,
+his arms were bound around and around with strong fine cord;
+next his feet were bound in the same way, and the task was done.
+Then Hans stood upon his feet, and wiped the sweat from his
+swarthy forehead. "Listen, brother," he whispered, and as he
+spoke he stooped and pressed something cold and hard against the
+neck of the other. "Dost thou know the feel of this? It is a
+broad dagger, and if thou dost contrive to loose that gag from
+thy mouth and makest any outcry, it shall be sheathed in thy
+weasand."
+
+So saying, he thrust the knife back again into its sheath, then
+stooping and picking up the other, he flung him across his
+shoulder like a sack, and running down the steps as lightly as
+though his load was nothing at all, he carried his burden to the
+arched doorway whence he had come a little while before. There,
+having first stripped his prisoner of all his weapons, Hans sat
+the man up in the angle of the wall. "So, brother;" said he,
+"now we can talk with more ease than we could up yonder. I will
+tell thee frankly why I am here; it is to find where the young
+Baron Otto of Drachenhausen is kept. If thou canst tell me, well
+and good; if not, I must e'en cut thy weasand and find me one
+who knoweth more. Now, canst thou tell me what I would learn,
+brother?"
+
+The other nodded dimly in the darkness.
+
+"That is good," said Hans, "then I will loose thy gag until thou
+hast told me; only bear in mind what I said concerning my
+dagger."
+
+Thereupon, he unbound his prisoner, and the fellow slowly rose
+to his feet. He shook himself and looked all about him in a
+heavy, bewildered fashion, as though he had just awakened from a
+dream.
+
+His right hand slid furtively down to his side, but the dagger-
+sheath was empty.
+
+"Come, brother!" said Hans, impatiently, "time is passing, and
+once lost can never be found again. Show me the way to the young
+Baron Otto or -." And he whetted the shining blade of his
+dagger on his horny palm.
+
+The fellow needed no further bidding; turning, he led the way,
+and together they were swallowed up in the yawning shadows, and
+again the hush of night-time lay upon the Castle of Trutz-
+Drachen.
+
+
+XI.
+
+How Otto was Saved.
+
+Little Otto was lying upon the hard couch in his cell, tossing
+in restless and feverish sleep; suddenly a heavy hand was laid
+upon him and a voice whispered in his ear, "Baron, Baron Otto,
+waken, rouse yourself; I am come to help you. I am One-eyed
+Hans."
+
+Otto was awake in an instant and raised himself upon his elbow
+in the darkness. "One-eyed Hans," he breathed, "One-eyed Hans;
+who is One-eyed Hans?"
+
+"True," said the other, "thou dost not know me. I am thy
+father's trusted servant, and am the only one excepting his own
+blood and kin who has clung to him in this hour of trouble. Yes,
+all are gone but me alone, and so I have come to help thee away
+from this vile place."
+
+"Oh, dear, good Hans! if only thou canst!" cried Otto; "if only
+thou canst take me away from this wicked place. Alas, dear Hans!
+I am weary and sick to death." And poor little Otto began to
+weep silently in the darkness.
+
+"Aye, aye," said Hans, gruffly, "it is no place for a little
+child to be. Canst thou climb, my little master? canst thou
+climb a knotted rope?"
+
+"Nay," said Otto, "I can never climb again! See, Hans;" and he
+flung back the covers from off him.
+
+"I cannot see," said Hans, "it is too dark."
+
+"Then feel, dear Hans," said Otto.
+
+Hans bent over the poor little white figure glimmering palely in the darkness. Suddenly he drew back with a snarl like an angry wolf. "Oh! the black, bloody wretches!" he cried, hoarsely; "and have they done that to thee, a little child?"
+
+"Yes," said Otto, "the Baron Henry did it." And then again he began to cry.
+
+"There, there," said Hans, roughly, "weep no more. Thou shalt get away from here even if thou canst not climb; I myself will help thee. Thy father is already waiting below the window here, and thou shalt soon be with him. There, there, cry no more."
+
+While he was speaking Hans had stripped off his peddler's
+leathern jacket, and there, around his body, was wrapped coil
+after coil of stout hempen rope tied in knots at short
+distances. He began unwinding the rope, and when he had done he
+was as thin as ever he had been before. Next he drew from the
+pouch that hung at his side a ball of fine cord and a leaden
+weight pierced by a hole, both of which he had brought with him
+for the use to which he now put them. He tied the lead to the
+end of the cord, then whirling the weight above his head, he
+flung it up toward the window high above. Twice the piece of
+lead fell back again into the room; the third time it flew out
+between the iron bars carrying the cord with it. Hans held the
+ball in his hand and paid out the string as the weight carried
+it downward toward the ground beneath. Suddenly the cord stopped
+running. Hans jerked it and shook it, but it moved no farther.
+"Pray heaven, little child," said he, "that it hath reached the
+ground, for if it hath not we are certainly lost."
+
+"I do pray," said Otto, and he bowed his head.
+
+Then, as though in answer to his prayer, there came a twitch
+upon the cord.
+
+"See," said Hans, "they have heard thee up above in heaven; it
+was thy father who did that." Quickly and deftly he tied the
+cord to the end of the knotted rope; then he gave an answering
+jerk upon the string. The next moment the rope was drawn up to
+the window and down the outside by those below. Otto lay
+watching the rope as it crawled up to the window and out into
+the night like a great snake, while One-eyed Hans held the other
+end lest it should be drawn too far. At last it stopped. "Good,"
+muttered Hans, as though to himself. "The rope is long enough."
+
+He waited for a few minutes and then, drawing upon the rope and
+finding that it was held from below, he spat upon his hands and
+began slowly climbing up to the window above. Winding his arm
+around the iron bars of the grating that guarded it, he thrust
+his hand into the pouch that hung by his side, and drawing forth
+a file, fell to work cutting through all that now lay between
+Otto and liberty.
+
+It was slow, slow work, and it seemed to Otto as though Hans
+would never finish his task, as lying upon his hard couch he
+watched that figure, black against the sky, bending over its
+work. Now and then the file screeched against the hard iron, and
+then Hans would cease for a moment, but only to begin again as
+industriously as ever. Three or four times he tried the effects
+of his work, but still the iron held. At last he set his
+shoulder against it, and as Otto looked he saw the iron bend.
+Suddenly there was a sharp crack, and a piece of the grating
+went flying out into the night.
+
+Hans tied the rope securely about the stump of the stout iron
+bar that yet remained, and then slid down again into the room
+below.
+
+"My little lord," said he, "dost thou think that if I carry
+thee, thou wilt be able and strong enough to cling to my neck?"
+
+"Aye," said Otto, "methinks I will be able to do that."
+
+"Then come," said Hans.
+
+He stooped as he spoke, and gently lifting Otto from his rude
+and rugged bed he drew his broad leathern belt around them both,
+buckling it firmly and securely. "It does not hurt thee?" said
+he.
+
+"Not much," whispered Otto faintly.
+
+Then Hans spat upon his hands, and began slowly climbing the
+rope.
+
+They reached the edge of the window and there they rested for a
+moment, and Otto renewed his hold around the neck of the
+faithful Hans.
+
+"And now art thou ready?" said Hans
+
+"Aye," said Otto.
+
+"Then courage," said Hans, and he turned and swung his leg over
+the abyss below.
+
+The next moment they were hanging in mid-air.
+
+Otto looked down and gave  a gasp. "The mother of heaven bless
+us," he whispered, and then closed his eyes, faint and dizzy at
+the sight of that sheer depth beneath. Hans said nothing, but
+shutting his teeth and wrapping his legs around the rope, he
+began slowly descending, hand under hand. Down, down, down he
+went, until to Otto, with his eyes shut and his head leaning
+upon Hans' shoulder, it seemed as though it could never end.
+Down, down, down. Suddenly he felt Hans draw a deep breath;
+there was a slight jar, and Otto opened his eyes; Hans was
+standing upon the ground.
+
+A figure wrapped in a dark cloak arose from the shadow of the
+wall, and took Otto in its arms. It was Baron Conrad.
+
+"My son - my little child!" he cried, in a choked, trembling
+voice, and that was all. And Otto pressed his cheek against his
+father's and began crying.
+
+Suddenly the Baron gave a sharp, fierce cry. "Dear Heaven!" he
+cried; "what have they done to thee?" But poor little Otto could
+not answer.
+
+"Oh!" gasped the Baron, in a strangled voice, "my little child!
+my little child!" And therewith he broke down, and his whole
+body shook with fierce, dry sobs; for men in those days did not
+seek to hide their grief as they do now, but were fierce and
+strong in the expression of that as of all else.
+
+"Never mind, dear father," whispered Otto; "it did not hurt me
+so very much," and he pressed his lips against his father's
+cheek.
+
+Little Otto had but one hand.
+
+
+XII.
+
+A Ride For Life.
+
+But not yet was Otto safe, and all danger past and gone by.
+Suddenly, as they stood there, the harsh clangor of a bell broke
+the silence of the starry night above their heads, and as they
+raised their faces and looked up, they saw lights flashing from
+window to window. Presently came the sound of a hoarse voice
+shouting something that, from the distance, they could not
+understand.
+
+One-eyed Hans smote his hand upon his thigh. Look said he, "here
+is what comes of having a soft heart in one's bosom. I overcame
+and bound a watchman up yonder, and forced him to tell me where
+our young Baron lay. It was on my mind to run my knife into him
+after he had told me every thing, but then, bethinking how the
+young Baron hated the thought of bloodshed, I said to myself,
+'No, Hans, I will spare the villain's life.' See now what comes
+of being merciful; here, by hook or by crook, the fellow has
+loosed himself from his bonds, and brings the whole castle about
+our ears like a nest of wasps."
+
+"We must fly," said the Baron; "for nothing else in the world is
+left me, now that all have deserted me in this black time of
+trouble, excepting these six faithful ones."
+
+His voice was bitter, bitter, as he spoke; then stooping, he
+raised Otto in his arms, and bearing him gently, began rapidly
+descending the rocky slope to the level road that ran along the
+edge of the hill beneath. Close behind him followed the rest;
+Hans still grimed with soot and in his bare feet. A little
+distance from the road and under the shade of the forest trees,
+seven horses stood waiting. The Baron mounted upon his great
+black charger, seating little Otto upon the saddle in front of
+him. "Forward!" he cried, and away they clattered and out upon
+the road. Then - "To St. Michaelsburg," said Baron Conrad, in
+his deep voice, and the horses' heads were turned to the
+westward, and away they galloped through the black shadows of
+the forest, leaving Trutz-Drachen behind them.
+
+But still the sound of the alarm bell rang through the beating
+of the horses' hoofs, and as Hans looked over his shoulder, he
+saw the light of torches flashing hither and thither along the
+outer walls in front of the great barbican.
+
+In Castle Trutz-Drachen all was confusion and uproar: flashing
+torches lit up the dull gray walls; horses neighed and stamped,
+and men shouted and called to one another in the bustle of
+making ready. Presently Baron Henry came striding along the
+corridor clad in light armor, which he had hastily donned when
+roused from his sleep by the news that his prisoner had escaped.
+Below in the courtyard his horse was standing, and without
+waiting for assistance, he swung himself into the saddle. Then
+away they all rode and down the steep path, armor ringing,
+swords clanking, and iron-shod hoofs striking sparks of fire
+from the hard stones. At their head rode Baron Henry; his
+triangular shield hung over his shoulder, and in his hand he
+bore a long, heavy, steel-pointed lance with a pennant
+flickering darkly from the end.
+
+At the high-road at the base of the slope they paused, for they
+were at a loss to know which direction the fugitives had taken;
+a half a score of the retainers leaped from their horses, and
+began hurrying about hither and thither, and up and down, like
+hounds searching for the lost scent, and all the time Baron
+Henry sat still as a rock in the midst of the confusion.
+
+Suddenly a shout was raised from the forest just beyond the
+road; they had come upon the place where the horses had been
+tied. It was an easy matter to trace the way that Baron Conrad
+and his followers had taken thence back to the high-road, but
+there again they were at a loss. The road ran straight as an
+arrow eastward and westward - had the fugitives taken their way to
+the east or to the west?
+
+Baron Henry called his head-man, Nicholas Stein, to him, and the
+two spoke together for a while in an undertone. At last the
+Baron's lieutenant reined his horse back, and choosing first one
+and then another, divided the company into two parties. The
+baron placed himself at the head of one band and Nicholas Stein
+at the head of the other. "Forward!" he cried, and away
+clattered the two companies of horsemen in opposite directions.
+
+It was toward the westward that Baron Henry of Trutz-Drachen
+rode at the head of his men.
+
+The early springtide sun shot its rays of misty, yellow light
+across the rolling tops of the forest trees where the little
+birds were singing in the glory of the May morning. But Baron
+Henry and his followers thought nothing of the beauty of the
+peaceful day, and heard nothing of the multitudinous sound of
+the singing birds as, with a confused sound of galloping hoofs,
+they swept along the highway, leaving behind them a slow-
+curling, low-trailing cloud of dust.
+
+As the sun rose more full and warm, the misty wreaths began to
+dissolve, until at last they parted and rolled asunder like a
+white curtain and there, before the pursuing horsemen, lay the
+crest of the mountain toward which they were riding, and up
+which the road wound steeply.
+
+"Yonder they are, cried a sudden voice behind Baron Henry of
+Trutz-Drachen, and at the cry all looked upward.
+
+Far away upon the mountain-side curled a cloud of dust, from the
+midst of which came the star-like flash of burnished armor
+gleaming in the sun.
+
+Baron Henry said never a word, but his lips curled in a grim
+smile.
+
+And as the mist wreaths parted One-eyed Hans looked behind and
+down into the leafy valley beneath. "Yonder they come," said he.
+"They have followed sharply to gain so much upon us, even though
+our horses are wearied with all the travelling we have done
+hither and yon these five days past. How far is it, Lord Baron,
+from here to Michaelsburg?"
+
+"About ten leagues," said the Baron, in a gloomy voice.
+
+Hans puckered his mouth as though to whistle, but the Baron saw
+nothing of it, for he was gazing straight before him with a set
+and stony face. Those who followed him looked at one another,
+and the same thought was in the mind of each - how long would it
+be before those who pursued would close the distance between them?
+
+When that happened it meant death to one and all.
+
+They reached the crest of the hill, and down they dashed upon
+the other side; for there the road was smooth and level as it
+sloped away into the valley, but it was in dead silence that
+they rode. Now and then those who followed the Baron looked back
+over their shoulders. They had gained a mile upon their pursuers
+when the helmeted heads rose above the crest of the mountain,
+but what was the gain of a mile with a smooth road between them,
+and fresh horses to weary ones?
+
+On they rode and on they rode. The sun rose higher and higher,
+and hotter and hotter. There was no time to rest and water their
+panting horses. Only once, when they crossed a shallow stretch
+of water, the poor animals bent their heads and caught a few
+gulps from the cool stream, and the One-eyed Hans washed a part
+of the soot from his hands and face. On and on they rode; never
+once did the Baron Conrad move his head or alter that steadfast
+look as, gazing straight before him, he rode steadily forward
+along the endless stretch of road, with poor little Otto's
+yellow head and white face resting against his steel-clad
+shoulder - and St. Michaelsburg still eight leagues away.
+
+A little rise of ground lay before them, and as they climbed it,
+all, excepting the baron, turned their heads as with one accord
+and looked behind them. Then more than one heart failed, for
+through the leaves of the trees below, they caught the glint of
+armor of those who followed - not more than a mile away. The
+next moment they swept over the crest, and there, below them,
+lay the broad shining river, and nearer a tributary stream
+spanned by a rude, narrow, three-arched, stone bridge where the
+road crossed the deep, slow-moving water.
+
+Down the slope plodded the weary horses, and so to the bridge-
+head.
+
+"Halt," cried the baron suddenly, and drew rein.
+
+The others stood bewildered. What did he mean to do? He turned
+to Hans and his blue eyes shone like steel.
+
+"Hans," said he, in his deep voice, "thou hast served me long
+and truly; wilt thou for this one last time do my bidding?"
+
+"Aye," said Hans, briefly.
+
+"Swear it," said the Baron.
+
+"I swear it," said Hans, and he drew the sign of the cross upon
+his heart.
+
+"That is good," said the Baron, grimly. "Then take thou this
+child, and with the others ride with all the speed that thou
+canst to St. Michaelsburg. Give the child into the charge of the
+Abbot Otto. Tell him how that I have sworn fealty to the
+Emperor, and what I have gained thereby - my castle burnt, my
+people slain, and this poor, simple child, my only son,
+mutilated by my enemy.
+
+"And thou, my Lord Baron?" said Hans.
+
+"I will stay here," said the Baron, quietly, "and keep back
+those who follow as long as God will give me grace so to do."
+
+A murmur of remonstrance rose among the faithful few who were
+with him, two of whom were near of kin. But Conrad of
+Drachenhausen turned fiercely upon them.
+
+"How now," said he, "have I fallen so low in my troubles that
+even ye dare to raise your voices against me? By the good
+Heaven, I will begin my work here by slaying the first man who
+dares to raise word against my bidding." Then he turned from
+them. "Here, Hans," said he, "take the boy; and remember, knave,
+what thou hast sworn."
+
+He pressed Otto close to his breast in one last embrace. "My
+little child," he murmured, "try not to hate thy father when
+thou thinkest of him hereafter, even though he be hard and
+bloody as thou knowest."
+
+But with his suffering and weakness, little Otto knew nothing of
+what was passing; it was only as in a faint flickering dream
+that he lived in what was done around him.
+
+"Farewell, Otto," said the Baron, but Otto's lips only moved
+faintly in answer. His father kissed him upon either cheek.
+"Come, Hans," said he, hastily, "take him hence;" and he loosed
+Otto's arms from about his neck.
+
+Hans took Otto upon the saddle in front of him.
+
+"Oh! my dear Lord Baron," said he, and then stopped with a gulp,
+and turned his grotesquely twitching face aside.
+
+"Go," said the Baron, harshly, "there is no time to lose in
+woman's tears."
+
+"Farewell, Conrad! farewell, Conrad!" said his two kinsmen, and
+coming forward they kissed him upon the cheek then they turned
+and rode away after Hans, and Baron Conrad was left alone to
+face his mortal foe.
+
+
+XIII.
+
+How Baron Conrad Held the Bridge.
+
+As the last of his followers swept around the curving road and
+was lost to sight, Baron Conrad gave himself a shake, as though
+to drive away the thoughts that lay upon him. Then he rode
+slowly forward to the middle of the bridge, where he wheeled his
+horse so as to face his coming enemies. He lowered the vizor of
+his helmet and bolted it to its place, and then saw that sword
+and dagger were loose in the scabbard and easy to draw when the
+need for drawing should arise.
+
+
+Down the steep path from the hill above swept the pursuing
+horsemen. Down the steep path to the bridge-head and there drew
+rein; for in the middle of the narrow way sat the motionless,
+steel-clad figure upon the great war-horse, with wide, red,
+panting nostrils, and body streaked with sweat and flecked with
+patches of foam.
+
+One side of the roadway of the bridge was guarded by a low stone
+wall; the other side was naked and open and bare to the deep,
+slow-moving water beneath. It was a dangerous place to attack a
+desperate man clad in armor of proof.
+
+"Forward!" cried Baron Henry, but not a soul stirred in answer,
+and still the iron-clad figure sat motionless and erect upon the
+panting horse.
+
+"How," cried the Baron Henry, "are ye afraid of one man? Then
+follow me!" and he spurred forward to the bridge-head. But still
+no one moved in answer, and the Lord of Trutz-Drachen reined
+back his horse again. He wheeled his horse and glared round upon
+the stolid faces of his followers, until his eyes seemed fairly
+to blaze with passion beneath the bars of his vizor.
+
+Baron Conrad gave a roar of laughter. "How now," he cried; "are
+ye all afraid of one man? Is there none among ye that dares come
+forward and meet me? I know thee, Baron Henry thou art not
+afraid to cut off the hand of a little child. Hast thou not now
+the courage to face the father?"
+
+Baron Henry gnashed his teeth with rage as he glared around upon
+the faces of his men-at-arms. Suddenly his eye lit upon one of
+them. "Ha ! Carl Spigler," he cried, "thou hast thy cross-bow
+with thee; - shoot me down yonder dog! Nay," he said, "thou
+canst do him no harm under his armor; shoot the horse upon which
+he sits."
+
+Baron Conrad heard the speech. "Oh! thou coward villain !" he
+cried, "stay; do not shoot the good horse. I will dismount and
+fight ye upon foot." Thereupon, armed as he was, he leaped
+clashing from his horse and turning the animal's head, gave it a
+slap upon the flank. The good horse first trotted and then
+walked to the further end of the bridge, where it stopped and
+began cropping at the grass that grew beside the road.
+
+"Now then !" cried Baron Henry, fiercely, "now then, ye cannot
+fear him, villains! Down with him! forward!"
+
+Slowly the troopers spurred their horses forward upon the bridge
+and toward that one figure that, grasping tightly the great two-
+handed sword, stood there alone guarding the passage.
+
+Then Baron Conrad whirled the great blade above his head, until
+it caught the sunlight and flashed again. He did not wait for
+the attack, but when the first of the advancing horsemen had
+come within a few feet of him, he leaped with a shout upon them.
+The fellow thrust at him with his lance, and the Baron went
+staggering a few feet back, but instantly he recovered himself
+and again leaped forward. The great sword flashed in the air,
+whistling; it fell, and the nearest man dropped his lance,
+clattering, and with a loud, inarticulate cry, grasped the mane
+of his horse with both hands. Again the blade whistled in the
+air, and this time it was stained with red. Again it fell, and
+with another shrill cry the man toppled headlong beneath the
+horse's feet. The next instant they were upon him, each striving
+to strike at the one figure, to ride him down, or to thrust him
+down with their lances. There was no room now to swing the long
+blade, but holding the hilt in both hands, Baron Conrad thrust
+with it as though it were a lance, stabbing at horse or man, it
+mattered not. Crowded upon the narrow roadway of the bridge,
+those who attacked had not only to guard themselves against the
+dreadful strokes of that terrible sword, but to keep their
+wounded horses (rearing and mad with fright) from toppling
+bodily over with them into the water beneath.
+
+Presently the cry was raised, "Back! back!" And those nearest
+the Baron began reining in their horses. "Forward!" roared Baron
+Henry, from the midst of the crowd; but in spite of his command,
+and even the blows that he gave, those behind were borne back by
+those in front, struggling and shouting, and the bridge was
+cleared again excepting for three figures that lay motionless
+upon the roadway, and that one who, with the brightness of his
+armor dimmed and stained, leaned panting against the wall of the
+bridge.
+
+The Baron Henry raged like a madman. Gnashing his teeth
+together, he rode back a little way; then turning and couching
+his lance, he suddenly clapped spurs to his horse, and the next
+instant came thundering down upon his solitary enemy.
+
+Baron Conrad whirled his sword in the air, as he saw the other
+coming like a thunderbolt upon him; he leaped aside, and the
+lance passed close to him. As it passed he struck, and the iron
+point flew from the shaft of the spear at the blow, and fell
+clattering upon the stone roadway of the bridge.
+
+Baron Henry drew in his horse until it rested upon its haunches,
+then slowly reined it backward down the bridge, still facing his
+foe, and still holding the wooden stump of the lance in his
+hand. At the bridge-head he flung it from him.
+
+"Another lance!" he cried, hoarsely. One was silently reached to
+him and he took it, his hand trembling with rage. Again he rode
+to a little distance and wheeled his horse; then, driving his
+steel spurs into its quivering side, he came again thundering
+down upon the other. Once more the terrible sword whirled in the
+air and fell, but this time the lance was snatched to one side
+and the blow fell harmlessly. The next instant, and with a
+twitch of the bridle-rein, the horse struck full and fair
+against the man.
+
+Conrad of Drachenhausen was whirled backward and downward, and
+the cruel iron hoofs crashed over his prostrate body, as horse
+and man passed with a rush beyond him and to the bridge-head
+beyond. A shout went up from those who stood watching. The next
+moment the prostrate figure rose and staggered blindly to the
+side of the bridge, and stood leaning against the stone wall.
+
+At the further end of the bridge Baron Henry had wheeled his
+horse. Once again he couched lance, and again he drove down upon
+his bruised and wounded enemy. This time the lance struck full
+and fair, and those who watched saw the steel point pierce the
+iron breast-plate and then snap short, leaving the barbed point
+within the wound.
+
+Baron Conrad sunk to his knees and the Roderburg, looming upon
+his horse above him, unsheathed his sword to finish the work he
+had begun.
+
+Then those who stood looking on saw a wondrous thing happen: the
+wounded man rose suddenly to his feet, and before his enemy
+could strike he leaped, with a great and bitter cry of agony and
+despair, upon him as he sat in the saddle above.
+
+Henry of Trutz-Drachen grasped at his horse's mane, but the
+attack was so fierce, so sudden, and so unexpected that before
+he could save himself he was dragged to one side and fell
+crashing in his armor upon the stone roadway of the bridge.
+
+"The dragon! the dragon!" roared Baron Conrad, in a voice of
+thunder, and with the energy of despair he dragged his prostrate
+foe toward the open side of the bridge.
+
+"Forward !" cried the chief of the Trutz-Drachen men, and down
+they rode upon the struggling knights to the rescue of their
+master in this new danger. But they were too late.
+
+There was a pause at the edge of the bridge, for Baron Henry had
+gained his feet and, stunned and bewildered as he was by the
+suddenness of his fall, he was now struggling fiercely,
+desperately. For a moment they stood swaying backward and
+forward, clasped in one another's arms, the blood from the
+wounded man's breast staining the armor of both. The moment
+passed and then, with a shower of stones and mortar from beneath
+their iron-shod heels, they toppled and fell; there was a
+thunderous splash in the water below, and as the men-at-arms
+came hurrying up and peered with awe-struck faces over the
+parapet of the bridge, they saw the whirling eddies sweep down
+with the current of the stream, a few bubbles rise to the
+surface of the water, and then - nothing; for the smooth river
+flowed onward as silently as ever.
+
+Presently a loud voice burst through the awed hush that
+followed. It came from William of Roderburg, Baron Henry's
+kinsman.
+
+"Forward!" he cried. A murmur of voices from the others was all
+the answer that he received. "Forward!" cried the young man
+again, "the boy and those with him are not so far away but that
+we might yet catch up with them."
+
+Then one of the men spoke up in answer - a man with a seamed,
+weather-beaten face and crisp grizzled hair. "Nay," said he,
+"our Lord Baron is gone, and this is no quarrel of ours; here be
+four of us that are wounded and three I misdoubt that are dead;
+why should we follow further only to suffer more blows for no
+gain?" A growl of assent rose from those that stood around, and
+William of Roderburg saw that nothing more was to be done by the
+Trutz-Dragons that day.
+
+
+XIV.
+
+How Otto Saw the Great Emperor.
+
+Through weakness and sickness and faintness, Otto had lain in a
+half swoon through all that long journey under the hot May sun.
+It was as in a dreadful nightmare that he had heard on and on
+and on that monotonous throbbing of galloping hoofs upon the
+ground; had felt that last kiss that his father had given him
+upon his cheek. Then the onward ride again, until all faded away
+into a dull mist and he knew no more. When next he woke it was
+with the pungent smell of burned vinegar in his nostrils and
+with the feeling of a cool napkin bathing his brow. He opened
+his eyes and then closed them again, thinking he must have been
+in a dream, for he lay in his old room at the peaceful monastery
+of the White Cross on the hill; the good Father Abbot sat near
+by, gazing upon his face with the old absent student look,
+Brother John sat in the deep window seat also gazing at him, and
+Brother Theodore, the leech of the monastery, sat beside him
+bathing his head. Beside these old familiar faces were the faces
+of those who had been with him in that long flight; the One-eyed
+Hans, old Master Nicholas his kinsman, and the others. So he
+closed his eyes, thinking that maybe it was all a dream. But the
+sharp throbbing of the poor stump at his wrist soon taught him
+that he was still awake.
+
+"Am I then really home in St. Michaelsburg again? he murmured,
+without unclosing his eyes.
+
+Brother Theodore began snuffling through his nose; there was a
+pause. "Yes," said the old Abbot at last, and his gentle voice
+trembled as he spoke; "yes, my dear little child, thou art back
+again in thine own home; thou hast not been long out in the
+great world, but truly thou hast had a sharp and bitter trial of
+it."
+
+"But they will not take me away again, will they?" said Otto
+quickly, unclosing his blue eyes.
+
+"Nay," said the Abbot, gently; "not until thou art healed in
+body and art ready and willing to go."
+
+Three months and more had passed, and Otto was well again; and
+now, escorted by One-eyed Hans and those faithful few who had
+clung to the Baron Conrad through his last few bitter days, he
+was riding into the quaint old town of Nurnburg; for the Emperor
+Rudolph was there at that time, waiting for King Ottocar of
+Bohemia to come thither and answer the imperial summons before
+the Council, and Otto was travelling to the court.
+
+As they rode in through the gates of the town, Otto looked up at
+the high-peaked houses with their overhanging gables, the like
+of which he had never seen before, and he stared with his round
+blue eyes at seeing them so crowded together along the length of
+the street. But most of all he wondered at the number of people
+that passed hither and thither, jostling each other in their
+hurry, and at the tradesmen's booths opening upon the street
+with the wonderful wares hanging within; armor at the smiths,
+glittering ornaments at the goldsmiths, and rich fabrics of
+silks and satins at the mercers. He had never seen anything so
+rich and grand in all of his life, for little Otto had never
+been in a town before.
+
+"Oh! look," he cried, "at that wonderful lady; see, holy father!
+ sure the Emperor's wife can be no finer than that lady."
+
+The Abbot smiled. "Nay, Otto," said he, "that is but a burgher's
+wife or daughter; the ladies at the Emperor's court are far
+grander than such as she."
+
+"So!" said Otto, and then fell silent with wonder.
+
+And now, at last the great moment had come when little Otto with
+his own eyes was to behold the mighty Emperor who ruled over all
+the powerful kingdoms of Germany and Austria, and Italy and
+Bohemia, and other kingdoms and principalities and states. His
+heart beat so that he could hardly speak as, for a moment, the
+good Abbot who held him by the hand stopped outside of the
+arrased doorway to whisper some last instructions into his ear.
+Then they entered the apartment.
+
+It was a long, stone-paved room. The floor was covered with rich
+rugs and the walls were hung with woven tapestry wherein were
+depicted knights and ladies in leafy gardens and kings and
+warriors at battle. A long row of high glazed windows extended
+along the length of the apartment, flooding it with the mellow
+light of the autumn day. At the further end of the room, far
+away, and standing by a great carved chimney place wherein
+smouldered the remains of a fire, stood a group of nobles in
+gorgeous dress of velvet and silks, and with glittering golden
+chains hung about their necks.
+
+One figure stood alone in front of the great yawning fireplace.
+His hands were clasped behind him, and his look bent
+thoughtfully upon the floor. He was dressed only in a simple
+gray robe without ornament or adornment, a plain leathern belt
+girded his waist, and from it hung a sword with a bone hilt
+encased in a brown leathern scabbard. A noble stag-hound lay
+close behind him, curled up upon the floor, basking in the
+grateful warmth of the fire.
+
+As the Father Abbot and Otto drew near he raised his head and
+looked at them. It was a plain, homely face that Otto saw, with
+a wrinkled forehead and a long mouth drawn down at the corners.
+It was the face of a good, honest burgher burdened with the
+cares of a prosperous trade. "Who can he be," thought Otto,
+"and why does the poor man stand there among all the great
+nobles?"
+
+But the Abbot walked straight up to him and kneeled upon the
+floor, and little Otto, full of wonder, did the same. It was the
+great Emperor Rudolph.
+
+"Who have we here " said the Emperor, and he bent his brow upon
+the Abbot and the boy.
+
+"Sire," said Abbot Otto, "we have humbly besought you by
+petition, in the name of your late vassal, Baron Conrad of
+Vuelph of Drachenhausen, for justice to this his son, the Baron
+Otto, whom, sire, as you may see, hath been cruelly mutilated at
+the hands of Baron Henry of Roderburg of Trutz-Drachen. He hath
+moreover been despoiled of his lands, his castle burnt, and his
+household made prisoner."
+
+The Emperor frowned until the shaggy eyebrows nearly hid the
+keen gray twinkle of the eyes beneath. "Yes," said he, "I do
+remember me of that petition, and have given it consideration
+both in private and in council." He turned to the group of
+listening nobles. " Look," said he, "at this little child marred
+by the inhumanity and the cruelty of those robber villains. By
+heavens! I will put down their lawless rapine, if I have to give
+every castle from the north to the south to the flames and to
+the sword." Then turning to Otto again, "Poor little child,"
+said he, "thy wrongs shall be righted, and so far as they are
+able, those cruel Roderburgs shall pay thee penny for penny, and
+grain for grain, for what thou hast lost; and until such
+indemnity hath been paid the family of the man who wrought this
+deed shall be held as surety."
+
+Little Otto looked up in the kind, rugged face above him. "Nay,
+Lord Emperor," said he, in his quaint, quiet way, "there are but
+two in the family -  the mother and the daughter - and I have
+promised to marry the little girl when she and I are old enough;
+so, if you please, I would not have harm happen to her."
+
+The Emperor continued to look down at the kneeling boy, and at
+last he gave a short, dry laugh. "So be it," said he, "thy plan
+is not without its wisdom. Mayhap it is all for the best that
+the affair should be ended thus peacefully. The estates of the
+Roderburgs shall be held in trust for thee until thou art come
+of age; otherwise it shall be as thou hast proposed, the little
+maiden shall be taken into ward under our own care. And as to
+thee - art thou willing that I should take thee under my own
+charge in the room of thy father, who is dead?"
+
+"Aye," said Otto, simply, "I am willing, for it seems to me that
+thou art a good man."
+
+The nobles who stood near smiled at the boy's speech. As for the
+Emperor, he laughed outright. "I give thee thanks, my Lord
+Baron," said he; "there is no one in all my court who has paid
+me greater courtesy than that."
+
+So comes the end of our tale.
+
+But perhaps you may like to know what happened afterward, for no
+one cares to leave the thread of a story without tying a knot in
+it.
+
+Eight years had passed, and Otto grew up to manhood in the
+Emperor's court, and was with him through war and peace.
+
+But he himself never drew sword or struck a blow, for the right
+hand that hung at his side was of pure silver, and the hard,
+cold fingers never closed. Folks called him "Otto of the Silver
+Hand," but perhaps there was another reason than that for the
+name that had been given him, for the pure, simple wisdom that
+the old monks of the White Cross on the hill had taught him,
+clung to him through all the honors that the Emperor bestowed
+upon his favorite, and as he grew older his words were listened
+to and weighed by those who were high in Council, and even by
+the Emperor himself.
+
+And now for the end of all.
+
+One day Otto stood uncertainly at the doorway of a room in the
+imperial castle, hesitating before he entered; and yet there was
+nothing so very dreadful within, only one poor girl whose heart
+fluttered more than his. Poor little Pauline, whom he had not
+seen since that last day in the black cell at Trutz-Drachen.
+
+At last he pushed aside the hangings and entered the room.
+
+She was sitting upon a rude bench beside the window, looking at
+him out of her great, dark eyes.
+
+He stopped short and stood for a moment confused and silent; for
+he had no thought in his mind but of the little girl whom he had
+last seen, and for a moment he stood confused before the fair
+maiden with her great, beautiful dark eyes.
+
+She on her part beheld a tall, slender youth with curling,
+golden hair, one hand white and delicate, the other of pure and
+shining silver.
+
+He came to her and took her hand and set it to his lips, and all
+that she could do was to gaze with her great, dark eyes upon the
+hero of whom she had heard so many talk; the favorite of the
+Emperor; the wise young Otto of the Silver Hand.
+
+
+Afterword
+
+The ruins of Drachenhausen were rebuilt, for the walls were as
+sound as ever, though empty and gaping to the sky; but it was no
+longer the den of a robber baron for beneath the scutcheon over
+the great gate was carved a new motto of the Vuelphs; a motto
+which the Emperor Rudolph himself had given:
+
+"Manus argentea quam manus ferrea melior est"
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg Etext Otto of the Silver Hand, by Howard Pyle
+
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