Chapter 10

The servant went, and when the burgomaster returned to his room, the preacher Samuel, of St. Mary's church, a gloomy zealot, forced himself upon him to condole with the powerful regent on the death of his son. With infinite unction he groaned out, "If, worthy sir, it is sad, mournful, pitiable, and most grievous to lose a dear, beloved child by a natural death, how much more sad, mournful, pitiable, and grievous must it be for a father when a healthful son is snatched from him through God's severe, though wise and gracious dispensation, by so sudden, violent, and horrid a death, without first having time to confess and repent his errors, so that in the full flower of his sins he is hurried away before the eternal judgment-seat!"

"For God's sake, comfort better, Mr. Preacher," cried Erasmus angrily: "You pour aqua-fortis instead of balsam into the wounds of a father's heart."

"The heart of man is an obstinate thing," replied the preacher; "it must be utterly torn and crushed that it may become truly sensible of the consolation of the Gospel; and if you will only allow me a short time, I will undertake so to work upon you, that you shall with pleasure kiss the hand which has struck you thus hardly, and, like a true Christian, shall attune a rejoicing Hosannah on the grave of your murdered son."

During this harangue the brow of Erasmus grew mightily wrinkled, and he was about to answer the wretched comforter in no very friendly way, when the door opened, and Althea entered, leading her boy.

"This is not to be borne!" he exclaimed to her. "We have nothing more to say to each other, Frau von Netz, and I consider it highly indecent that you should force yourself upon me in this way, unannounced, only to burthen me with entreaties, which my oath forbids my hearkening to."

"Misfortune has its peculiar privileges," replied Althea in a faint and tuneless voice; "I was prepared for all harshness when I resolved to come here, and you can treat me as seems good and proper to yourself; but you must hear me once again; I will not stir from this spot first."

"Speak, then, that I may at last get quit of this torment."

"My intended husband is condemned to die. I will no longer contend with you whether he has deserved death, or whether you have a right to inflict it; but the power of pardon belongs incontestably to the emperor. I, therefore, only implore you to defer the execution of the sentence till the return of a messenger whom I will despatch to Vienna with my supplication. That cannot militate against your office. On the contrary, it would become you not to anticipate the clemency of your master in a business wherein you must yourself confess you are a party. In the meantime let the condemned remain in your power, and if the emperor pronounces the dreadful NO, we must submit to what cannot be avoided."

"Let the Herr von Tausdorf live, dear burgomaster," said the little Henry, at other times so defying, but now in tears, and kissed the hand of Erasmus with humility. "I am a fatherless orphan, and he would be so good a father to me!"

But the burgomaster withdrew his hand from the child, and eyed now him, now Althea, with piercing glances.

"Take our share in Bogendorf for the brief respite," cried Althea, observing the inveteracy in the eyes of Erasmus. "I will readily make it over to you this very day, and support myself and my son by the labour of my hands, if by that I can only purchase the slightest hope for the safety of the man whom my soul loves."

"You are a fair and a wise lady, Frau von Netz," said the burgomaster at last; "but the old Erasmus is yet too wise for you. You will not find in him the fool you seek."

"Let mercy prevail!" cried Althea in despair, and embraced his knees with wild energy. "Let mercy prevail, as you would that God should one day be merciful to you!"

"Back!" exclaimed the burgomaster indignantly, and pushed her from him. "My son is dead. Neither your wealth nor your tears can make him alive again. Blood demands blood, and Tausdorf must die!"

"Not another word of supplication," cried the little Henry to his mother, who was exhausted by her agony; "tis a pity you offered any to the wicked man. Has not uncle Netz told you a hundred times that the rich burgomaster is as cold and as hard as the dollars of which he is always boasting so much? Come, mother; we cannot beg the good man free, and therefore we will weep for him as long as we have eyes. But this house is not worthy of your tears;"--and then turning to Erasmus, he said, with a dignity and spirit beyond his years, "You have heavily vexed and offended the Frau von Netz, Mr. Burgomaster, and it is the duty of a good son to avenge every insult which his mother has had to endure. At present my arm is not strong enough for my inclination; but, please God, I shall grow every day larger and stouter, and I think to be able to wield the sword shortly. For this time I denounce feud against you, and whatever may come of it, murder or fire, I shall have set my honour above your impeachment."

He pulled away his mother with him, and Erasmus said to the preacher, "Do you hear how the young snake can hiss already? But follow the lady, if you will be so good, comfort her by virtue of your holy office, and exhort her to betake herself to her own house, that she may not excite the people by her lamentations in the streets, and force me to send her home by a couple of gens-d'armes."

"Well advised!" replied the preacher, and hastened after Althea, whom he found at the street-door, her head leaning against one of the stone columns of the portal, while Henry stroked her hand consolingly, and wet it with his tears.

"Submit yourself to the will of Heaven," he began; "and this must be the easier to you when you weigh the justice of the sentence pronounced upon the culprit, who was once dear to you. Such assassins and bloodhounds must be forfeit to the executioner as a warning to others, and for their own well-earned punishment. Had not the council done justice in this way, I had never endured to abide in the town; and, if I could not have walked out, I should have crept out, with wife and children, from this pit of murder, in which no honest man could have been secure of his life any longer."

Althea lifted up to him her heavy eyes, that were red and swollen with weeping, and merely saying, "May God comfort you as you have comforted me!" she sunk back into her old position. Still, however, the preacher continued in the same strain for a time; but when he perceived that the sufferer no longer even listened to his splendid grounds of consolation, he suddenly broke off, and removed himself, with a look in which was couched an anathema.

In the mean time Christopher Friend came out of the street-door and gazed tenderly on Althea.

"Poor lady!" he at last said with a voice of as much pity as he could force into it--"No doubt you would go up to my father to implore him for the life of your betrothed; or you have already been with him, and received an unfavourable answer. Yes! I could have told you that before. You would more easily move the lions of granite that rest upon these columns than my father in this neck-breaking business. Would that I were the reigning burgomaster in his place, to be able to serve you, for I am not very angry with your Tausdorf. My late brother was an evil man, who probably brought this affair upon himself; and it is a pity that so brave a knight should, on his account, fall under the hands of the executioner. I have, indeed, some influence with my father, especially since I am his only son; and, if I were to run the risk of his anger and put in a good word, I might at least, perhaps, gain you a short delay, and time gained, all is gained."

"Comfort often comes from where it is least expected," stammered Althea, looking at him with anxious doubt. "You, Mr. Christopher,--you have a heart for my sorrows?"

"What man of my years would not have a heart for so fair a lady?" replied Christopher, smiling; "but it is only death that can be had for nothing; life is expensive. Time presses, and therefore I will open my mind to you briefly. Herr Tausdorf is lost to you for ever; if his life even should be saved,--which I hold for a half impossibility,--still he would not get off without a long imprisonment and perpetual exile from this country. Therefore give me your fair hand, for which I have already sued without success, and I will try what influence I have over my father's heart."

Althea started back in horror, and laid her right hand thoughtfully upon her forehead, her left upon her poor heart, in which anguish was working convulsively. But the inward struggle was soon over, and with the calmness of resignation she turned towards her ungenerous wooer.

"It would, indeed, be hard for me," she said, "to follow a man who makes a trade of his humanity, and to give this boy a father whom he could not respect; still I would make even this sacrifice for him I love, if I could believe that he would accept it. But I am convinced that he would sooner die a thousand times than let me slowly pine away under the tortures of a wretched marriage. Therefore let him and me perish, in God's name; I can never be yours."

She took her child by the hand, and departed slowly with him up the street, towards the market-place.

"Again nothing!" grumbled Christopher to himself; "the Netherlandress, too, won't have me now. Had I known that it would have been the same here, I hardly think that I should have helped to play this trick. But a woman would, at any time, talk over God himself, and make him sin against his own commandments. How have I burthened my conscience, and at least one-half to no purpose!--The Devil take all women! If it were not for the housekeeping, and the tricks of servants, I would not ask after them, but remain a widower all my life long. In the unmarried state one can lay out so much upon one's self, and save into the bargain; and when at last I have buried my father--who can't hold out much longer with his constant passions--I shall be a substantial man, and laugh at every one.--Good Heavens!"

With this cry he broke off his noble soliloquy; for before him, on a sudden, stood the town-executioner, in his red cloak of office, and, from his thin yellow face, the dark eyes gleamed on Christopher with a savage joy appropriate to this day of horror. All this was in itself quite natural, but Christopher's conscience smote him hardly at the sight, and he felt as if the hideous being had taken the trouble to come there only on his account.

"Is the worshipful burgomaster above?" asked the executioner, with infinite courteousness and his hat off to the son of his superior. From sheer fright, Christopher was unable to reply; he simply pointed to the steps, stammered out, "Above!" and, creeping out of the street-door by him with as much speed as if he felt the sword at his neck, he hurried off.

* * * * *

In the city-marshal's room, below the custom-house, the noble Tausdorf was still kneeling before the chaplain, who administered the sacrament to him, and blessed him for death. The priest then retired, but his clerk, instead of following, barred the door behind him again, advanced to Tausdorf, who just then was rising from the ground, and asked, in a familiar voice, "Do you know me?"

"Rasselwitz!" cried Tausdorf, surprised. "You have crept in, thus disguised, to bid me farewell for this world. That is bravely done of you, and I thank you heartily for your love."

"I have something more important in my thoughts," replied Rasselwitz quickly and softly. "I would save you. Wrap my black cloak about you, take the cap in your hand, follow the chaplain as his clerk through the gens-d'armes; he is still talking without to the city-marshal. The holy man is in the secret, and goes from here to the farthest end of the Striegauer suburb to a sick person, and thence you may easily escape."

"And _you_?" asked Tausdorf, in deep emotion.

"I!" replied Rasselwitz; "why I remain here in the mean time, and laugh at the serjeants, when they come and find the nest empty."

"That laugh would cost you dear," said Tausdorf; "Heaven be praised that I have more forethought than yourself. The council and the provosts thirst after my blood like hungry tigers. They would be mad on finding me snatched from them, and your head would fall instead of mine."

"Not so," insisted Rasselwitz. "They would fling me into the Hildebrand, which I already know full well, and there I will abide patiently till the bishop frees me."

"It might this time easily turn out otherwise, and I dare not set the life of my preserver on such possibilities, not to speak of the abuse of the holy sacrament which you would persuade me to. I thank you for your noble offer, but I remain."

"Pray take it, Herr von Tausdorf," cried Rasselwitz, urgently. "I should delight in hazarding something for you, more especially as it seems to me as if I were half the cause of your misfortune, although with no evil intention. I have unconsciously drawn you into the snare which, in the end, has closed destructively about you, and therefore I owe you an atonement. Pray you now accept it."

"I do not understand your words, my young friend, but only the good heart that speaks in them. You may, however, spare them in my case; for by my knightly word I stir not from this room till my hour strikes. If you have done me any wrong, knowingly or unknowingly, I forgive you with all my heart, even without atonement; for, _that_ our Saviour has offered for us all by his death upon the cross."

"I cannot let you die," cried Rasselwitz, wildly; "if you will not save yourself as I propose, I will call together as many brave nobles, and their people, as may be collected in the town. Unfortunately Netz is wanting, with his adherents; and, as the gates are closed, I can send no message to him; but still I will undertake to muster fifty heads. We set fire to the nest in twenty places, and in the confusion we break through to you, and snatch you, by force, from the teeth of the dragon."

"Heaven defend me from such a saving! It would cost much noble and innocent blood, which, in truth, would be too high a price for this head. Were I to accept it, I should deserve the fate which awaits me. Leave me at least the conviction that I die innocently: it is my best consolation in this hour,--and now depart, my friend, for my moments are numbered."

"You are a saint," cried Rasselwitz, in tears, and kissing Tausdorf's hand before he could prevent it. "You do well to leave this world, for it is much too bad for you. I obey your will, but I must find out the spider which lurked in the centre of this hellish web that has wound about you to your ruin, and, when I have found it, I will crush it under my feet, though your spirit should call down from Heaven, 'have mercy!'"

He rushed out, and Tausdorf again fell upon his knees, while his looks flew through the iron bars with burning enthusiasm to the seat of everlasting freedom. "You have highly favoured me in life, eternal Father!" he exclaimed. "Unspotted honour, pure love, and true friendship, have adorned, with their noblest garlands, this head, which I must now lay down in the long sleep of the grave. Now, then, crown thy work of mercy through a good death. Grant that I may depart with courage, and without bitterness against my enemies, so that I may appear before thy throne, not unworthy of thy immortal son."

The gens-d'armes had drawn a triple circle of spears about the stone columns before the sessions-house cellars. Within, by a heap of strewed sand, waited the executioner with his sword beneath his red cloak. On the other side of the circle the people thronged in a dense mass. All the windows of the marketplace swarmed with spectators, while the roofs and the chimney-tops were covered with men, all expecting, with anxious curiosity and a strange painful pleasure, the victim which they yet lamented.

The bells of the parish church began to toll, and the death-procession approached slowly from the custom-house. By the side of the city-marshal, surrounded by spearmen, walked the noble Tausdorf, free from fetters, and with his accustomed nobleness. The tight red suit of velvet sate handsomely upon his well-formed limbs, and in his raven locks was woven a coronet of flowers. The features of the pale face were calm and cheerful, and in the glance of his large black eye beamed a light that no longer seemed to be of this world. With friendly greetings to the by-standers, he entered the circle.

"I die innocent," he exclaimed in a loud clear voice, that sounded far beyond the market-place. "But what earthly son shall dare to boast himself free from all earthly failings? I therefore humbly pray to Heaven for pardon for any acknowledged and unacknowledged sins, and hope also, from your Christian charity, that you will forgive me such, and put up your prayers in my behalf, that I may have a blessed end!"

A general sobbing answered this address, and amidst it, from the distance, sounded the lamenting voice of the poor Althea.--

"If I could but see you once again!"

"This is more bitter than death," sighed Tausdorf half to himself, and, turning to the quarter whence her voice had come, he cried, "My dear Althea, that can no more be in this world, but we shall meet again in life everlasting!"

The sobbing of the people grew louder, and here and there were heard single words of discontent. But the marshal gave a sign to two of the gens-d'armes, who went with their spears to that part whence the voice of Althea had come. Then advancing to Tausdorf, he said earnestly, "It is time!"

Tausdorf immediately undid his doublet with his own hands, and flung it amongst the people; then, loosening his ruff, he did the same with that.--And now he knelt upon the sand-heap, with unbound eyes, looked up to Heaven, and exclaimed joyfully, "To thee, my Saviour, I commend myself--Amen!"

With the _amen_, the sword glittered behind him, and his head fell.

* * * * *

The council was still assembled in their sessions-chamber. Erasmus sate again at the green-covered table, with deep sorrow in his iron features, for now that the spirit of vengeance was satisfied, pain had found more room in his hard heart. The city-marshal entered.

"All is done as you ordered, worshipful Mr. Burgomaster. Your son and von Tausdorf have been solemnly interred, with the attendance of the whole college, the preachers, and a considerable train of mourners, and I caused the bodies to be laid in ONE grave, according to your order, and in the family burial-place. I have also had the town gates re-opened."

"You have done well," replied the burgomaster, with a hollow voice, and made him a sign with his hand to depart.

"Moreover," continued the marshal, "all the noble inquilines[4] of the city wait without, and request admittance to the honourable council."

"Be it granted, then," said the burgomaster with a heavy heart, and the city-marshal left the room.

In a short time he returned, conducting a train of sable figures. First came the gouty old Schindel, leaning on Rasselwitz and Netz; Althea, holding her child by the hand, followed next. Many old nobles, male and female, who had settled at Schweidnitz, brought up the procession. All were in deep mourning, the women veiled in long black veils. When they had reached the council-table, Netz fetched a chair from the wall, and respectfully placed it before von Schindel. The latter, with difficulty, seated himself, and then, looking up to Netz and Rasselwitz, said, "You remember your promise, knights? You leave me alone to speak, is it not so?"

"Have no fear, uncle," replied Netz, grinding his teeth. "The affair, besides, cannot be ended with words. We will be silent as the grave, that swallowed up our Tausdorf."

"Gentlemen," began the old man, with a trembling voice, "you have done that which is not right before God. The innocent blood has flowed; to save and repair is no longer possible. I will, therefore, spare you and myself the sorrow of explaining how much you have erred, and on what grounds. I do not come to find fault or dispute with you; I come only to take leave of you for this life, and, at the same time, to bid you farewell in the name of all those nobles who have hitherto lived in peace under the shelter of your walls. You must yourselves find it natural, that none of them deem their life safe in a town that could let so noble a head fall under the sword of the executioner! Fear, indeed, has no longer any influence with me; I am too old for that, although I openly avow that I myself should not like to die here now, as I would not have my grave amongst you. A higher purpose compels me hence. My poor niece, whom you have made a widow, intends going, with her orphaned child, to Bohemia, to the old father of her betrothed, that she may console him for the loss of his only son, and wait there in patience till death shall free her from her sufferings, and re-unite her with the beloved of her heart. I go with her, and remain with her, for she needs a paternal friend in that foreign land. There will we sit alone together in our sorrow, and weep and comfort each other; and on my knightly word, we will never curse you. Heaven bless you! Heaven bring you to the consciousness of that which you have done, and awake in you a forgiving heart through holy penitence, that henceforth no more innocent victims may be sacrificed to the discord that is between you and us. If this wish should be fulfilled, if the blood shed in yonder grave should ripen into the fruit of peace, hail! thrice hail to the dust of the martyr!"

The speaker was silent; his companions wept aloud, and those of the council turned away to dry their eyes unmarked. Only the old Erasmus stared before him, tearless, gloomy, and full of thought.

"I am ready," said Schindel, looking up to his two guides, who took him by the arms, and helped him to rise. Supported by them, he bowed to the council, and was led away.

The mourning procession followed him; the door closed behind them, while the council looked in silence at each other, and then gloomily at the old burgomaster, who, surprised by this measure, was not master of his speech.

"The young Lord Hochberg of Fürstentein," announced the city-servant.

"He, too, must have little that is consolatory to say to us," exclaimed Alderman Trentler; and Erasmus, almost lost in insensibility, signed to the servant to admit him.

The youth entered in complete armour, lifted up his visor before the council-table, and, leaning on his sword, cast fierce and burning glances amongst the troubled faces about the table.

"You have caused Tausdorf to be seized by your people within the Fürstentein jurisdiction," he began with bitterness; "you have murdered him by a mockery under the name of a trial, and thus have invaded the jurisdiction of his imperial majesty as lord paramount, and of my mother as holder of the fief. The rascally peasants at Saltzbrunn who abetted your people in this crime are already in prison, and shall be severely punished in body and goods. We have sent a messenger to the emperor with the relation of the business. What he may determine upon your conduct, as far as concerns himself, is for you to look to; we, however, are resolved to defend our own rights in particular, and not to lay down our heads in peace till this monstrous crime is punished and atoned for. But since his imperial majesty has strictly forbidden private feud, we shall, in our just anger, better observe the will of our sovereign than you the aggressors have done; and you shall answer us before the court of fiefs: and to that I cite you herewith, for the first,--second,--and third time."