hat, flung carelessly and fearlessly on one side of his open smiling
countenance; and his lovely hair, curling in ten thousand yellow ringlets, fell
over his shoulder like golden epaulettes, and down his back as far as the
waist-buttons of his coat. I warrant me, many a lovely Colnerinn looked after
the handsome Childe with anxiety, and dreamed that night of Cupid under the
guise of "a bonny boy in green."
So accoutred, the youth's next thought was, that he must supply himself with a
bow. This he speedily purchased at the most fashionable bowyer's, and of the
best material and make. It was of ivory, trimmed with pink ribbon, and the cord
of silk. An elegant quiver, beautifully painted and embroidered, was slung
across his back, with a dozen of the finest arrows, tipped with steel of
Damascus, formed of the branches of the famous Upas-tree of Java, and feathered
with the wings of the ortolan. These purchases being completed (together with
that of a knapsack, dressing-case, change, our young adventurer asked where was
the hostel at which the archers were wont to assemble? and being informed that
it was at the sign of the "Golden Stag," hied him to that house of
entertainment, where, by calling for quantities of liquor and beer, he speedily
made the acquaintance and acquired the good will of a company of his future
comrades, who happened to be sitting in the coffee-room.
After they had eaten and drunken for all, Otto said, addressing them, "When go
ye forth, gentles? I am a stranger here, bound as you to the archery meeting of
Duke Adolf. An ye will admit a youth into your company 'twill gladden me upon my
lonely way?"
The archers replied, "You seem so young and jolly, and you spend your gold so
very like a gentleman, that we'll receive you in our band with pleasure. Be
ready, for we start at half-past two!" At that hour accordingly the whole joyous
company prepared to move, and Otto not a little increased his popularity among
them by stepping out and having a conference with the landlord, which caused the
latter to come into the room where the archers were assembled previous to
departure, and to say, "Gentlemen, the bill is settled!"�words never ungrateful
to an archer yet: no, marry, nor to a man of any other calling that I wot of.
They marched joyously for several leagues, singing and joking, and telling of a
thousand feats of love and chase and war. While thus engaged, some one remarked
to Otto, that he was not dressed in the regular uniform, having no feathers in
his hat.
"I dare say I will find a feather," said the lad, smiling.
Then another gibed because his bow was new.
"See that you can use your old one as well, Master Wolfgang," said the
undisturbed youth. His answers, his bearing, his generosity, his beauty, and his
wit, inspired all his new toxophilite friends with interest and curiosity, and
they longed to see whether his skill with the bow corresponded with their secret
sympathies for him.
An occasion for manifesting this skill did not fail to present itself soon�as
indeed it seldom does to such a hero of romance as young Otto was. Fate seems to
watch over such: events occur to them just in the nick of time; they rescue
virgins just as ogres are on the point of devouring them; they manage to be
present at court and interesting ceremonies, and to see the most interesting
people at the most interesting moment; directly an adventure is necessary for
them, that adventure occurs: and I, for my part, have often wondered with
delight (and never could penetrate the mystery of the subject) at the way in
which that humblest of romance heroes, Signor Clown, when he wants anything in
the Pantomime, straightway finds it to his hand. How is it that,�suppose he
wishes to dress himself up like a woman for instance, that minute a coalheaver
walks in with a shovel-hat that answers for a bonnet; at the very next instant a
butcher's lad passing with a string of sausages and a bundle of bladders
unconsciously helps Master Clown to a necklace and a tournure, and so on through
the whole toilet? Depend upon it there is something we do not wot of in that
mysterious overcoming of circumstances by great individuals: that apt and
wondrous conjuncture of THE HOUR AND THE MAN; and so, for my part, when I heard
the above remark of one of the archers, that Otto had never a feather in his
bonnet, I felt sure that a heron would spring up in the next sentence to supply
him with an aigrette.
And such indeed was the fact: rising out of a morass by which the archers were
passing, a gallant heron, arching his neck, swelling his crest, placing his legs
behind him, and his beak and red eyes against the wind, rose slowly, and offered
the fairest mark in the world.
"Shoot, Otto," said one of the archers. "You would not shoot just now at a crow
because it was a foul bird, nor at a hawk because it was a noble bird; bring us
down yon heron: it flies slowly."
But Otto was busy that moment tying his shoestring, and Rudolf, the third best
of the archers, shot at the bird and missed it.
"Shoot, Otto," said Wolfgang, a youth who had taken a liking to the young
archer: "the bird is getting further and further."
But Otto was busy that moment whittling a willow-twig he had just cut. Max, the
second best archer, shot and missed.
"Then," said Wolfgang, "I must try myself: a plague on you, young springald, you
have lost a noble chance!"
Wolfgang prepared himself with all his care, and shot at the bird. "It is out of
distance," said he, "and a murrain on the bird!"
Otto, who by this time had done whittling his willow-stick (having carved a
capital caricature of Wolfgang upon it), flung the twig down and said
carelessly, "Out of distance! Pshaw! We have two minutes yet," and fell to
asking riddles and cutting jokes; to the which none of the archers listened, as
they were all engaged, their noses in air, watching the retreating bird.
"Where shall I hit him?" said Otto.
"Go to," said Rudolf, "thou canst see no limb of him: he is no bigger than a
flea."
"Here goes for his right eye!" said Otto; and stepping forward in the English
manner (which his godfather having learnt in Palestine, had taught him), he
brought his bowstring to his ear, took a good aim, allowing for the wind and
calculating the parabola to a nicety. Whiz! his arrow went off.
He took up the willow-twig again and began carving a head of Rudolf at the other
end, chatting and laughing, and singing a ballad the while.
The archers, after standing a long time looking skywards with their noses in the
air, at last brought them down from the perpendicular to the horizontal
position, and said, "Pooh, this lad is a humbug! The arrow's lost; let's go!"
"HEADS!" cried Otto, laughing. A speck was seen rapidly descending from the
heavens; it grew to be as big as a crown-piece, then as a partridge, then as a
tea-kettle, and flop! down fell a magnificent heron to the ground, flooring poor
Max in its fall.
"Take the arrow out of his eye, Wolfgang," said Otto, without l
ooking at the
bird: "wipe it and put it back into my quiver."
The arrow indeed was there, having penetrated right through the pupil.
"Are you in league with Der Freischutz?" said Rudolf, quite amazed.
Otto laughingly whistled the "Huntsman's Chorus," and said, "No, my friend. It
was a lucky shot: only a lucky shot. I was taught shooting, look you, in the
fashion of merry England, where the archers are archers indeed."
And so he cut off the heron's wing for a plume for his hat; and the archers
walked on, much amazed, and saying, "What a wonderful country that merry England
must be!"
Far from feeling any envy at their comrade's success, the jolly archers
recognized his superiority with pleasure; and Wolfgang and Rudolf especially
held out their hands to the younker, and besought the honor of his friendship.
They continued their walk all day, and when night fell made choice of a good
hostel you may be sure, where over beer, punch, champagne, and every luxury,
they drank to the health of the Duke of Cleves, and indeed each other's healths
all round. Next day they resumed their march, and continued it without
interruption, except to take in a supply of victuals here and there (and it was
found on these occasions that Otto, young as he was, could eat four times as
much as the oldest archer present, and drink to correspond); and these continued
refreshments having given them more than ordinary strength, they determined on
making rather a long march of it, and did not halt till after nightfall at the
gates of the little town of Windeck.
What was to be done? the town-gates were shut. "Is there no hostel, no castle
where we can sleep?" asked Otto of the sentinel at the gate. "I am so hungry
that in lack of better food I think I could eat my grandmamma."
The sentinel laughed at this hyperbolical expression of hunger, and said, "You
had best go sleep at the Castle of Windeck yonder;" adding with a peculiarly
knowing look, "Nobody will disturb you there."
At that moment the moon broke out from a cloud, and showed on a hill hard by a
castle indeed�but the skeleton of a castle. The roof was gone, the windows were
dismantled, the towers were tumbling, and the cold moonlight pierced it through
and through. One end of the building was, however, still covered in, and stood
looking still more frowning, vast, and gloomy, even than the other part of the
edifice.
"There is a lodging, certainly," said Otto to the sentinel, who pointed towards
the castle with his bartizan; "but tell me, good fellow, what are we to do for a
supper?"
"Oh, the castellan of Windeck will entertain you," said the man-at- arms with a
grin, and marched up the embrasure; the while the archers, taking counsel among
themselves, debated whether or not they should take up their quarters in the
gloomy and deserted edifice.
"We shall get nothing but an owl for supper there," said young Otto. "Marry,
lads, let us storm the town; we are thirty gallant fellows, and I have heard the
garrison is not more than three hundred." But the rest of the party thought such
a way of getting supper was not a very cheap one, and, grovelling knaves,
preferred rather to sleep ignobly and without victuals, than dare the assault
with Otto, and die, or conquer something comfortable.
One and all then made their way towards the castle. They entered its vast and
silent halls, frightening the owls and bats that fled before them with hideous
hootings and flappings of wings, and passing by a multiplicity of mouldy stairs,
dank reeking roofs, and rickety corridors, at last came to an apartment which,
dismal and dismantled as it was, appeared to be in rather better condition than
the neighboring chambers, and they therefore selected it as their place of rest
for the night. They then tossed up which should mount guard. The first two hours
of watch fell to Otto, who was to be succeeded by his young though humble friend
Wolfgang; and, accordingly, the Childe of Godesberg, drawing his dirk, began to
pace upon his weary round; while his comrades, by various gradations of snoring,
told how profoundly they slept, spite of their lack of supper.
'Tis needless to say what were the thoughts of the noble Childe as he performed
his two hours' watch; what gushing memories poured into his full soul; what
"sweet and bitter" recollections of home inspired his throbbing heart; and what
manly aspirations after fame buoyed him up. "Youth is ever confident," says the
bard. Happy, happy season! The moonlit hours passed by on silver wings, the
twinkling stars looked friendly down upon him. Confiding in their youthful
sentinel, sound slept the valorous toxophilites, as up and down, and there and
back again, marched on the noble Childe. At length his repeater told him, much
to his satisfaction, that it was half-past eleven, the hour when his watch was
to cease; and so, giving a playful kick to the slumbering Wolfgang, that
good-humored fellow sprung up from his lair, and, drawing his sword, proceeded
to relieve Otto.
The latter laid him down for warmth's sake on the very spot which his comrade
had left, and for some time could not sleep. Realities and visions then began to
mingle in his mind, till he scarce knew which was which. He dozed for a minute;
then he woke with a start; then he went off again; then woke up again. In one of
these half- sleeping moments he thought he saw a figure, as of a woman in white,
gliding into the room, and beckoning Wolfgang from it. He looked again. Wolfgang
was gone. At that moment twelve o'clock clanged from the town, and Otto started
up.
CHAPTER IX. THE LADY OF WINDECK.
As the bell with iron tongue called midnight, Wolfgang the Archer, pacing on his
watch, beheld before him a pale female figure. He did not know whence she came:
but there suddenly she stood close to him. Her blue, clear, glassy eyes were
fixed upon him. Her form was of faultless beauty; her face pale as the marble of
the fairy statue, ere yet the sculptor's love had given it life. A smile played
upon her features, but it was no warmer than the reflection of a moonbeam on a
lake; and yet it was wondrous beautiful. A fascination stole over the senses of
young Wolfgang. He stared at the lovely apparition with fixed eyes and distended
jaws. She looked at him with ineffable archness. She lifted one beautifully
rounded alabaster arm, and made a sign as if to beckon him towards her. Did
Wolfgang�the young and lusty Wolfgang�follow? Ask the iron whether it follows
the magnet?�ask the pointer whether it pursues the partridge through the
stubble?�ask the youth whether the lollipop-shop does not attract him? Wolfgang
DID follow. An antique door opened, as if by magic. There was no light, and yet
they saw quite plain; they passed through the innumerable ancient chambers, and
yet they did not wake any of the owls and bats roosting there. We know not
through how many apartments the young couple passed; but at last they came to
one where a feast was prepared: and on an antique table, covered with massive
silver, covers were laid for
two. The lady took her place at one end of the
table, and with her sweetest nod beckoned Wolfgang to the other seat. He took
it. The table was small, and their knees met. He felt as cold in his legs as if
he were kneeling against an ice-well.
"Gallant archer," said she, "you must be hungry after your day's march. What
supper will you have? Shall it be a delicate lobster- salad? or a dish of
elegant tripe and onions? or a slice of boar's- head and truffles? or a Welsh
rabbit a la cave au cidre? or a beefsteak and shallot? or a couple of rognons a
la brochette? Speak, brave bowyer: you have but to order."
As there was nothing on the table but a covered silver dish, Wolfgang thought
that the lady who proposed such a multiplicity of delicacies to him was only
laughing at him; so he determined to try her with something extremely rare.
"Fair princess," he said, "I should like very much a pork-chop and some mashed
potatoes."
She lifted the cover: there was such a pork-chop as Simpson never served, with a
dish of mashed potatoes that would have formed at least six portions in our
degenerate days in Rupert Street.
When he had helped himself to these delicacies, the lady put the cover on the
dish again, and watched him eating with interest. He was for some time too much
occupied with his own food to remark that his companion did not eat a morsel;
but big as it was, his chop was soon gone; the shining silver of his plate was
scraped quite clean with his knife, and, heaving a great sigh, he confessed a
humble desire for something to drink.
"Call for what you like, sweet sir," said the lady, lifting up a silver filigree
bottle, with an india-rubber cork, ornamented with gold.
"Then," said Master Wolfgang�for the fellow's tastes were, in sooth, very
humble�"I call for half-and-half." According to his wish, a pint of that
delicious beverage was poured from the bottle, foaming, into his beaker.
Having emptied this at a draught, and declared that on his conscience it was the
best tap he ever knew in his life, the young man felt his appetite renewed; and
it is impossible to say how many different dishes he called for. Only
enchantment, he was afterwards heard to declare (though none of his friends
believed him), could have given him the appetite he possessed on that
extraordinary night. He called for another pork-chop and potatoes, then for
pickled salmon; then he thought he would try a devilled turkey-wing. "I adore
the devil," said he.
"So do I," said the pale lady, with unwonted animation; and the dish was served
straightway. It was succeeded by black-puddings, tripe, toasted cheese, and�what
was most remarkable�every one of the dishes which he desired came from under the
same silver cover: which circumstance, when he had partaken of about fourteen
different articles, he began to find rather mysterious.
"Oh," said the pale lady, with a smile, "the mystery is easily accounted for:
the servants hear you, and the kitchen is BELOW." But this did not account for
the manner in which more half-and- half, bitter ale, punch (both gin and rum),
and even oil and vinegar, which he took with cucumber to his salmon, came out of
the self-same bottle from which the lady had first poured out his pint of
half-and-half.
"There are more things in heaven and earth, Voracio," said his arch entertainer,
when he put this question to her, "than are dreamt of in your philosophy:" and,
sooth to say, the archer was by this time in such a state, that he did not find
anything wonderful more.
"Are you happy, dear youth?" said the lady, as, after his collation, he sank
back in his chair.
"Oh, miss, ain't I?" was his interrogative and yet affirmative reply.
"Should you like such a supper every night, Wolfgang?" continued the pale one.
"Why, no," said he; "no, not exactly; not EVERY night: SOME nights I should like
oysters."
A Legend of the Rhine Page 4
