The Dove in the Eagle's Nest by Charlotte M. Yonge
CHAPTER IXTHE EAGLETS
CHRISTINA’S mental and bodily constitution had much similarity—apparentlymost delicate, tender, and timid, yet capable of a vigour, health, andendurance that withstood shocks that might have been fatal to manyapparently stronger persons. The events of that frightful Easter Mondaymorning did indeed almost kill her; but the effects, though severe, werenot lasting; and by the time the last of Ermentrude’s snow-wreath hadvanished, she was sunning her babes at the window, happier than she hadever thought to be—above all, in the possession of both the children. Anurse had been captured for the little Baron from the village on thehillside; but the woman had fretted, the child had pined, and had beengiven back to his mother to save his life; and ever since both hadthriven perfectly under her sole care, so that there was very nearly joyin that room.
Outside it, there was more bitterness than ever. The grandmother hadsoftened for a few moments at the birth of the children, withsatisfaction at obtaining twice as much as she had hoped; but thefrustration of her vengeance upon Kasimir of Adlerstein Wildschloss hadrenewed all her hatred, and she had no scruple in abusing “theburgher-woman” to the whole household for her artful desire to captivateanother nobleman. She, no doubt, expected that degenerate fool of aWildschlosser to come wooing after her; “if he did he should meet hisdeserts.” It was the favourite reproach whenever she chose to vent herfury on the mute, blushing, weeping young widow, whose glance at herbabies was her only appeal against the cruel accusation.
On Midsummer eve, Heinz the Schneiderlein, who had all day been takingtoll from the various attendants at the Friedmund Wake, came up andknocked at the door. He had a bundle over his shoulder and a bag in hishand, which last he offered to her.
“The toll! It is for the Lady Baroness.”
“You are my Lady Baroness. I levy toll for this my young lord.”
“Take it to her, good Heinz, she must have the charge, and needlessstrife I will not breed.”
The angry notes of Dame Kunigunde came up: “How now, knave Schneiderlein!Come down with the toll instantly. It shall not be tampered with! Down,I say, thou thief of a tailor.”
“Go; prithee go, vex her not,” entreated Christina.
“Coming, lady!” shouted Heinz, and, disregarding all further objurgationsfrom beneath, he proceeded to deposit his bundle, and explain that it hadbeen entrusted to him by a pedlar from Ulm, who would likewise takecharge of anything she might have to send in return, and he then ran downjust in time to prevent a domiciliary visit from the old lady.
From Ulm! The very sound was joy; and Christina with trembling handsunfastened the cords and stitches that secured the canvas covering,within which lay folds on folds of linen, and in the midst a rich silvergoblet, long ago brought by her father from Italy, a few of her ownpossessions, and a letter from her uncle secured with black floss silk,with a black seal.
She kissed it with transport, but the contents were somewhat chilling bytheir grave formality. The opening address to the “honour-worthy LadyBaroness and love-worthy niece,” conveyed to her a doubt on good MasterGottfried’s part whether she were still truly worthy of love or honour.The slaughter at Jacob Müller’s had been already known to him, and heexpressed himself as relieved, but greatly amazed, at the information hehad received from the Baron of Adlerstein Wildschloss, who had visitedhim at Ulm, after having verified what had been alleged at SchlossAdlerstein by application to the friar at Offingen.
Freiherr von Adlerstein Wildschloss had further requested him to makeknown that, feud-briefs having regularly passed between Schlangenwald andAdlerstein, and the two Barons not having been within the peace of theempire, no justice could be exacted for their deaths; yet, inconsideration of the tender age of the present heirs, the question offorfeiture or submission should be waived till they could act forthemselves, and Schlangenwald should be withheld from injuring them solong as no molestation was offered to travellers. It was plain that SirKasimir had well and generously done his best to protect the helplesstwins, and he sent respectful but cordial greetings to their mother.These however were far less heeded by her than the coldness of heruncle’s letter. She had drifted beyond the reckoning of her kindred, andthey were sending her her property and bridal linen, as if they had donewith her, and had lost their child in the robber-baron’s wife. Yet atthe end there was a touch of old times in offering a blessing, should shestill value it, and the hopes that heaven and the saints would comforther; “for surely, thou poor child, thou must have suffered much, and, ifthou wiliest still to write to thy city kin, thine aunt would rejoice tohear that thou and thy babes were in good health.”
Precise grammarian and scribe as was Uncle Gottfried, the lapse from theformal _Sie_ to the familiar _Du_ went to his niece’s heart. Wheneverher little ones left her any leisure, she spent this her firstwedding-day in writing so earnest and loving a letter as, in spite ofmediæval formality, must assure the good burgomaster that, except inhaving suffered much and loved much, his little Christina was not changedsince she had left him.
No answer could be looked for till another wake-day; but, when it came,it was full and loving, and therewith were sent a few more of herfavourite books, a girdle, and a richly-scented pair of gloves, togetherwith two ivory boxes of comfits, and two little purple silk, gold-edged,straight, narrow garments and tight round brimless lace caps, for the twolittle Barons. Nor did henceforth a wake-day pass by without bringingsome such token, not only delightful as gratifying Christina’s affectionby the kindness that suggested them, but supplying absolute wants in thedire stress of poverty at Schloss Adlerstein.
Christina durst not tell her mother-in-law of the terms on which theywere unmolested, trusting to the scantiness of the retinue, and to herown influence with the Schneiderlein to hinder any serious violence.Indeed, while the Count of Schlangenwald was in the neighbourhood, hisfollowers took care to secure all that could be captured at theDebateable Ford, and the broken forces of Adlerstein would have beeninsane had they attempted to contend with such superior numbers. Thatthe castle remained unattacked was attributed by the elder Baroness toits own merits; nor did Christina undeceive her. They had no intercoursewith the outer world, except that once a pursuivant arrived with a formalintimation from their kinsman, the Baron of Adlerstein Wildschloss, ofhis marriage with the noble Fräulein, Countess Valeska von Trautbach, anda present of a gay dagger for each of his godsons. Frau Kunigundetriumphed a good deal over the notion of Christina’s supposeddisappointment; but the tidings were most welcome to the younger lady,who trusted they would put an end to all future taunts about Wildschloss.Alas! the handle for abuse was too valuable to be relinquished.
The last silver cup the castle had possessed had to be given as a rewardto the pursuivant, and mayhap Frau Kunigunde reckoned this as anotheroffence of her daughter-in-law, since, had Sir Kasimir been safe in theoubliette, the twins might have shared his broad lands on the Danube,instead of contributing to the fees of his pursuivant. The cup couldindeed be ill spared. The cattle and swine, the dues of the serfs, andthe yearly toll at the wake were the sole resources of the household; andthough there was no lack of meat, milk, and black bread, sufficientgarments could scarce be come by, with all the spinning of the household,woven by the village webster, of whose time the baronial household, byprescriptive right, owned the lion’s share.
These matters little troubled the two beings in whom Christina’s heartwas wrapped up. Though running about barefooted and bareheaded, theywere healthy, handsome, straight-limbed, noble-looking creatures, soexactly alike, and so inseparable, that no one except herself could tellone from the other save by the medal of Our Lady worn by the elder, andthe little cross carved by the mother for the younger; indeed, at onetime, the urchins themselves would feel for cross or medal, ere namingthemselves “Ebbo,” or “Friedel.” They were tall for their age, but withthe slender make of their foreign ancestry; and, though their fair rosycomplexions were brightened by mountain mists and winds, thei
They were never quarrelsome. Either from the influence of hergentleness, or from their absolute union, they could do and enjoy nothingapart, and would as soon have thought of their right and left handsfalling out as of Ebbo and Friedel disputing. Ebbo however was alwaysthe right hand. _The_ Freiherr, as he had been called from the first,had, from the time he could sit at the table at all, been put into thebaronial chair with the eagle carved at the back; every member of thehousehold, from his grandmother downwards, placed him foremost, andFriedel followed their example, at the less loss to himself, as his handwas always in Ebbo’s, and all their doings were in common. Sometimeshowever the mother doubted whether there would have been this perfectabsence of all contest had the medal of the firstborn chanced to hanground Friedmund’s neck instead of Eberhard’s. At first they wereentirely left to her. Their grandmother heeded them little as long asthey were healthy, and evidently regarded them more as heirs ofAdlerstein than as grandchildren; but, as they grew older, she showedanxiety lest their mother should interfere with the fierce, lawlessspirit proper to their line.
One winter day, when they were nearly six years old, Christina, spinningat her window, had been watching them snowballing in the castle court,smiling and applauding every large handful held up to her, every laughingcombat, every well-aimed hit, as the hardy little fellows scattered thesnow in showers round them, raising their merry fur-capped faces to thebright eyes that “rained influence and judged the prize.”
By and by they stood still; Ebbo—she knew him by the tossed head andcommanding air—was proposing what Friedel seemed to disapprove; but,after a short discussion, Ebbo flung away from him, and went towards ashed where was kept a wolf-cub, recently presented to the young Barons byold Ulrich’s son. The whelp was so young as to be quite harmless, but itwas far from amiable; Friedel never willingly approached it, and thesnarling and whining replies to all advances had begun to weary andirritate Ebbo. He dragged it out by its chain, and, tethering it to apost, made it a mark for his snowballs, which, kneaded hard, anddelivered with hearty good-will by his sturdy arms, made the poor littlebeast yelp with pain and terror, till the more tender-hearted Friedelthrew himself on his brother to withhold him, while Mätz stood bylaughing and applauding the Baron. Seeing Ebbo shake Friedel off withunusual petulance, and pitying the tormented animal, Christina flung acloak round her head and hastened down stairs, entering the court just asthe terrified whelp had made a snap at the boy, which was returned byangry, vindictive pelting, not merely with snow, but with stones.Friedel sprang to her crying, and her call to Ebbo made him turn, thoughwith fury in his face, shouting, “He would bite me! the evil beast!”
“Come with me, Ebbo,” she said.
“He shall suffer for it, the spiteful, ungrateful brute! Let me alone,mother!” cried Ebbo, stamping on the snow, but still from habit yieldingto her hand on his shoulder.
“What now?” demanded the old Baroness, appearing on the scene. “Who isthwarting the Baron?”
“She; she will not let me deal with yonder savage whelp,” cried the boy.
“She! Take thy way, child,” said the old lady. “Visit him well for hismalice. None shall withstand thee here. At thy peril!” she added,turning on Christina. “What, art not content to have brought basemechanical blood into a noble house? Wouldst make slaves and cowards ofits sons?”
“I would teach them true courage, not cruelty,” she tried to say.
“What should such as thou know of courage? Look here, girl: another wordto daunt the spirit of my grandsons, and I’ll have thee scourged down themountain-side! On! At him, Ebbo! That’s my gallant young knight! Outof the way, girl, with thy whining looks! What, Friedel, be a man, andaid thy brother! Has she made thee a puling woman already?” AndKunigunde laid an ungentle grasp upon Friedmund, who was clinging to hismother, hiding his face in her gown. He struggled against the clutch,and would not look up or be detached.
“Fie, poor little coward!” taunted the old lady; “never heed him, Ebbo,my brave Baron!”
Cut to the heart, Christina took refuge in her room, and gathered herFriedel to her bosom, as he sobbed out, “Oh, mother, the poor littlewolf! Oh, mother, are you weeping too? The grandmother should not sospeak to the sweetest, dearest motherling,” he added, throwing his armsround her neck.
“Alas, Friedel, that Ebbo should learn that it is brave to hurt theweak!”
“It is not like Walther of Vögelwiede,” said Friedel, whose mind had beenmuch impressed by the Minnesinger’s bequest to the birds.
“Nor like any true Christian knight. Alas, my poor boys, must you betaught foul cruelty and I too weak and cowardly to save you?”
“That never will be,” said Friedel, lifting his head from her shoulder.“Hark! what a howl was that!”
“Listen not, dear child; it does but pain thee.”
“But Ebbo is not shouting. Oh, mother, he is vexed—he is hurt!” criedFriedel, springing from her lap; but, ere either could reach the window,Ebbo had vanished from the scene. They only saw the young wolf stretcheddead on the snow, and the same moment in burst Ebbo, and flung himself onthe floor in a passion of weeping. Stimulated by the applause of hisgrandmother and of Mätz, he had furiously pelted the poor animal with allmissiles that came to hand, till a blow, either from him or Mätz, hadproduced such a howl and struggle of agony, and then such terriblestillness, as had gone to the young Baron’s very heart, a heart as softas that of his father had been by nature. Indeed, his sobs were sopiteous that his mother was relieved to hear only, “The wolf! the poorwolf!” and to find that he himself was unhurt; and she was scarcelysatisfied of this when Dame Kunigunde came up also alarmed, and thusturned his grief to wrath. “As if I would cry in that way for a bite!”he said. “Go, grandame; you made me do it, the poor beast!” with a freshsob.
“Ulrich shall get thee another cub, my child.”
“No, no; I never will have another cub! Why did you let me kill it?”
“For shame, Ebbo! Weep for a spiteful brute! That’s no better than thymother or Friedel.”
“I love my mother! I love Friedel! They would have withheld me. Go,go; I hate you!”
“Peace, peace, Ebbo,” exclaimed his mother; “you know not what you say.Ask your grandmother’s pardon.”
“Peace, thou fool!” screamed the old lady. “The Baron speaks as he willin his own castle. He is not to be checked here, and thwarted there, andtaught to mince his words like a cap-in-hand pedlar. Pardon! When didan Adlerstein seek pardon? Come with me, my Baron; I have still somehoney-cakes.”
“Not I,” replied Ebbo; “honey-cakes will not cure the wolf whelp. Go: Iwant my mother and Friedel.”
Alone with them his pride and passion were gone; but alas! what auguryfor the future of her boys was left with the mother!