The Red Axe
Page 5
CHAPTER V
THE BLOOD-HOUNDS ARE FED
But the Princess-Playmate spoke to me again. I was even permitted to callher Helene. Me she addressed uniformly as "Hugo Gottfried." But neitherher name nor mine interfered with our plays, which were wholly happy andundisturbed by quarrelling--at least, so long as I did exactly what shewished me to do.
On these terms life was made easy for me from that day forth. No longerdid I wistfully watch the children of the street from the lonely windowof the Red Tower. They might spit all day on the harled masonry at thefoot of the wall for aught I cared. I no longer desired their society.Had I not that of a real Princess, and if my companion was inclined to bea little wayward and domineering--why, was not that the very birthrightof all Princesses?
Helene and I had great choice of plays within the walls of the solemncastle. So long as we kept to the outer yard and did not intrude upon theDuke's side of the enclosure, we were free to come and go at ourpleasure. For even Casimir himself was soon well accustomed to see us runabout like puppies, slapping and tumbling, and minded us no more than thesparrows that pecked in the litter of the stable-yard. Indeed, I think hehad forgotten all about the strange home-coming of the Little Playmate.
The kennels of the blood-hounds especially were full of fascination forus. That fatal deep-mouthed clamoring at morn and even drew us like amagnet. Helene, in particular, never tired of gazing between the chinksof the fence of cloven pine-wood at the great russet-colored beasts withtheir flashing white teeth, over which the heavy dewlaps fell. And whenmy father, with his red livery upon him and a loaded whip in his hand,once a day opened the tall, narrow door and went within, we thought himbrave as a god. Then the way the fierce beasts shrank cowering from him,the fashion in which they crouched on their bellies and heaved theirshoulders up without taking their hind quarters off the ground, equallydelighted and surprised us.
"Your father is almost as great a man as _my_ father," said the PrincessHelene, who, however, was rapidly forgetting her dignity. Indeed,already it had become little more than a fairy-tale to her. And that wasperhaps as well.
One day, when I was about thirteen, or a little older, my father came outwith a new short mantle in his hand, red like his own.
"Come hither, Hugo Gottfried!" he said, for he had learned the trick ofthe name from Helene.
I went to him tardy-foot, greatly wondering.
"Here, chick," he said, in his kindly fashion, "it is time you werebeginning to learn your duties. Come with me to-day into the kennels ofthe blood-hounds."
But I hung back, shifting the new mantle uneasily on my shoulders, yetnot daring to throw it off.
"I do not want to go, father," said I, edging away in the direction ofthe Playmate.
"What, lad!" he cried, slapping me on the shoulder; "they will not hurtthee with that cloak on. They know their masters better--as their fathersand mothers knew our fathers. Have we, the Gottfrieds, been theHereditary Justicers of the Wolfmark for six hundred years to be afraidnow of the blood-hounds that are kept to hunt the Duke's enemies and tofeed on the Duke's carrion?"
"It is not that I am afraid of the dogs, father," I made answer to him."I would quickly enough go among them, if only you would let me gowithout this scarlet cloak."
My father laughed heartily and loudly--that is, for him. A quick earmight have heard him quite three feet away.
"Silly one!" he exclaimed, "do you not know that even the Duke Casimirdares not set foot in the kennels--no, nor I myself, save in the garbthey know and fear--as indeed do all men in this state."
Still I hung my head down and scraped the gravel with my foot.
"Haste thee," said my father, roughly. "Once it is permitted to a man tobe afraid; to fear twice, and fear the same thing, is to be a coward. Andno Gottfried ever yet was a coward. Let not my Hugo be the first."
Then I took courage and spoke to him.
"I do not wish to be executioner," I said; "I would rather ridea-soldiering far away, and be in the drive of battle and the front ofdanger. Let me be a soldier and a man-at-arms, my father. I am sure Icould become a war-captain and a great man!"
Gottfried Gottfried stared blankly at me, and his blue-black hair rose ina crest--not with anger, of which he never showed any to me, but in sheerastonishment. He continued to rub it with his hand, as if in this mannerhe might possibly reach an explanation of the mystery.
"Not wish to be Hereditary Executioner? Why, are you not a Gottfried, theonly son of a Gottfried, the only son of his father, who also was aGottfried and Hereditary Red Axe of the Wolfmark? Why, lad, before therewas a Duke at all in the Wolfsberg, before he and his folk came out ofthe land of the Poles to fight with the Ritterdom of the North, we, theGottfrieds of Thorn, wore the sign of the Red Axe and dwelt apart fromall the men of the Mark. For fourteen generations have we worn it!"
"But," said I, sadly, "the very children on the street hate me and spiton me as I pass; the maids will not so much as speak to me. They scyrryin-doors and slam the wicket in my face. Think you that is pleasant? Andwhen as a lad of older years I set out to woo, whither shall I betake me?For what door is open to a Gottfried, to him who carries the sign ofthe Red Axe?"
"Ah, lad," said my father, patiently, "life comes and life goes. It isnigh on to forty years since even thus my father held out the curt mantlefor me. And even so said I. Time eats up all things but the hearts ofmen. And they abide ever the same--yearning for that which they cannothave, but nevertheless accepting with a sharp relish the things which aredecreed to them; even as do the Duke's carrion-eaters yonder, which,by-the-way, are waiting most impatiently for their meal while we thusstand arguing."
He was about to move away when his eye fell on Helene. At sight of her heseemed to remember my last words, about going a-wooing.
He considered a moment and then said: "You are young yet to think ofcourting, Hugo, but have no fear either for the love-making or thewedding. Sweet maids a many shall surely come hither. Why, there is onegrowing up yonder that will prove as fair as any. I tell you theGottfrieds have married great ladies in their time--dames and daintydamsels. They have had princesses to be their sweethearts ere now. Come,then, lad--no more words, but follow me."
And for that time I went after him obediently enough, but all the same myheart was rebellious within me. And I determined that if I had to ran tothe ends of the earth, I should never be Hereditary Executioner nor yethandle the broadaxe on the bared necks of my fellow-men.
We went in among the dogs--great, lank, cowering, tooth-slavering brutes.I followed my father till we came to the feeding-troughs. Then he bade meto stand where I was till he should set their meat in order. So hevanished behind, the barriers. Then, when he had prepared the beasts'horrid victual, though I saw not what, he opened the narrow gate, and thehowling, clambering throng broke helter-skelter for the troughs, crackingand crunching the thigh-bones, tearing at the flesh, and growling at oneanother till the air rang with the ear-piercing din.
And outside the little Helene flung herself frantically at the splitpines of the enclosure, crying, bitterly, "Take off that hateful mantle,Hugo Gottfried! I hate it--I hate it! Take it off!"
My father stood behind the dogs, whose arched and bristling backs I couldjust manage to see over the fence of wooden spars, and dealt the whipjudicially among them--at once as a warning to encroachers and apunishment for greed.
Then all unharmed we went out, and as soon as my father had gone up tohis garret-room in the tower, I tore the red cloak off and trampled it inthe dirt of the yard. Then I went and hid it in a little blind window ofthe tower opposite the foot of the ladder which led to my father's room.For, because of my father's anger, I dared not destroy the badge of shamealtogether, as both Helene and I wished to do.
Day by day the Little Playmate (for so I was now allowed to call her--thePrincesshood being mostly forgotten) grew great and tall, her fair,almost lint-white hair darkening swiftly to coppery gold with the glintof ripe wheat upon it.
One day I was laboring at the art of learning to write, along with FriarLaurence--a scrawny, ill-favored monk, who, for good deeds or misdeeds, Iknow not which, was warded in a cell opening out of the lower or gardencourt of the Wolfsberg, when I heard Helene dance down the stairs to thekitchen of the Red Tower.
"Hannchen!" she cried, merrily, "come and teach me that trick of thebroidering needle. I never can do it but I prick myself. Nevertheless,I can fashion the Red Axe almost as clearly as the pattern, and farfiner to see."
Friar Laurence raised his great, softly solid face, blue about the jowlsand padded beneath the eyes with craft.
"That little maid is over much with old Hanne," he said, as if hemeditated to himself; "she will teach her other prickings than theneedle-play. The witch-pricking at the images of wax was what brought herhere. Aye, and had it not been for your father wanting a house-keeper,the Holy Office would have burned the hag, and sent her to hell, flaminglike a torch of pine knots."
Now this was the first I had heard with exactness of the matter of oldHanne's having been a witch. And now that I knew it for certain I beganto imagine all sorts of unholy things about the poor wretch, and grewgreatly jealous of Helene being so often in the kitchen. Whereas before Ihad thought nothing at all about the matter, save that Hannchen was adull, pleasant, muttering, shuffling-footed old woman, who could makerare good cream-cakes when you got her in the humor.
And that was not often.