Chapter 2

As he spoke the door was violently thrown open, and in rushed the breathless Netz, sword in hand.

"For heaven's sake, what has happened?" cried Althea, anxiously.

"Under favour, sister," panted Netz, sheathing his sword: "Allow your servant to fetch my horse directly. He will find it in the stable at Barthel Wallach's. I must be off this hour from Schweidnitz, or I am lost."

At a sign from his mistress the servant hurried out.

"But what is really the matter?" asked Schindel, pressingly: "You have no doubt been again doing in your wrath what is not right before God."

"We went," said Netz, binding his pocket-handkerchief about his bleeding arm, "to fetch the horse which Francis had promised Rasselwitz. In the house we stumbled on him and some fellows of his own stamp. From words it soon came to blows. The fray grew hot; my servant was flung into the well: still, however, we stood our ground fairly; but then came the police upon us with the whole tribe of city officers, and we were overwhelmed by numbers; Bieler was killed; Rasselwitz wounded and taken; I saw that standing out would lead to nothing but death or a dungeon, laid about me like a boar at bay, and fortunately cut my way through."

"Men, men!--how will you answer for that which you have done?" exclaimed Schindel, sorrowfully.

"What! are we to take any thing and every thing of these citizens? It may perhaps be Christian-like when one cheek is smitten to hold the other; but to strike again is human, and I do not wish to be any thing better than a man."

"The son of the worthy intendant killed!--and his murderer the son of the all-powerful Erasmus!" exclaimed Schindel--"It will be a war of the Guelphs and Ghibellines!"

"Your horse stands below," said the servant, returning: "Your lad saved himself in good time from his cold bath, and brought it hither."

"My horse waits below too," cried Tausdorf, taking up his gloves and hat: "With your permission, Herr von Netz, I will accompany you beyond the boundaries. The irritated citizens may mean evil to you if they find you yet within their jurisdiction."

"I accept your offer with thanks," replied Netz, hurrying out. Tausdorf kissed Althea's hand and said--"I thank you heartily for your friendly welcome; it seemed to me as if my dear native land greeted me with your lips, and I only grieve that our first meeting should be so brief and so unkindly interrupted; but I purpose repeating my visit, if the widow of my deceased friend will allow it."

"You will always be welcome to me," replied the beautiful widow, in embarrassment; and the hands, which had been joined seemed to grow together, while her uncle called out from the window, "Haste! haste! Netz is already mounted, and the police are coming up the streets from the market with a whole rabble of armed citizens."

"Farewell!" said Tausdorf, hastily, and disappeared; and Althea, darting to the window, cried out after him to be careful of himself. The armed multitude approached; Netz, forgetting his companion, gave his horse the spurs and galloped off. In the meantime Tausdorf came out of the house, sprang lightly and nimbly into the saddle, and sent up a last friendly greeting to the window. In the same moment he was surrounded by the rabble. Several rough hands seized his horse's reins, while about him crowded a threatening array of pikes, maces, and firelocks; and a wild shout arose of--"Another of the murderers!--tear the scoundrel from his horse!"

"What would you with me?" said Tausdorf, sternly:--"I have had no share in this unhappy quarrel."

"Found together, bound together!" shouted the rough rabble: "You must ornament the town-jail."

With this the boldest amongst them seized the knight's legs to pull him from the saddle.

"Respect to the imperial colours, ye citizens of Schweidnitz!" exclaimed Tausdorf, and gave his horse the spur and the curb at the same time. The noble beast reared and struck about him with his fore-hoofs, to the sore dismay of those who held the reins, and who immediately let them go; and the knight, thundering out to the mob to make way, now struck the rowels into his horse's flanks. In an instant two powerful plunges freed him from his enemies. A loud cry of mingled joy and terror echoed from Althea's window, while Tausdorf sprang over the rabble that were rolling upon each other in confusion, and rushed out of the gates at full speed.

"God be praised!" said Althea, as she left the window, exhausted by her feelings: "I was in terror for the brave knight."

"In terror?--already in terror?" asked her uncle mockingly, and, going up to her, he seized her hand--"Look me fairly in the face, niece."

For a moment she cast her eyes down, then raised them up to him with difficulty; but the effort to keep a steady gaze on her uncle's brow kindled a rosy glow upon her own. He went on, however, without mercy--

"And now, niece, as plain an answer: if this Bohemian should ever ask you to become his wife, would you in that case declare yourself as roughly as you have done this day to your other suitors?"

"You torment me," said Althea, with gentle reproach. Her hand slipped from his, and she fled out of the room.

"'Tis a clear thing!" said the uncle to himself--"Well, I have nothing to say against it; the man pleases me--I wish he were not a Utraquist!"

* * * * *

The lovely Agatha, the daughter of the city messenger, Onophrius Goldmann, sat at the window in her humble chamber. The spindle rested in her hand; on her lap lay an open volume of the songs and tales of the master-bards, but her hazel eyes wandered from the book to the darkening street, and her bosom heaved beneath its drapery. "Twilight," she exclaimed, "twilight is already coming on, and still my father does not return. O that no accident has happened to Francis!" At this moment, some one burst open the street door, and rushed into the chamber;--it was Francis Friend.

"I have had a glorious row with the vagabond nobles," he cried, embracing the maiden roughly, "and the mad Netz has flayed my arm, but I think I have paid him for it, in a way that will make him remember me. Bind up the wound, Agatha."

"Wicked man," replied Agatha chidingly, as she stripped off the sleeve through which the blood was welling; "you are always running wantonly into danger, and care not for the anxiety which I suffer on your account."

"What, am I to let those vagabonds steal the horse from my stable? In the end they'll quarter themselves upon me, and drive me out of house and home."

"You hate the nobles so violently, and yet have married the daughter of a noble!"

"Unfortunately! And I do believe it is on that very account she is such an abomination to me; but I shan't be such a fool again. My wife won't be much longer on her feet, and when she is unharnessed, my next choice is soon settled; a girl of low rank, when she is as beautiful as my Agatha, is dearer to me than a dozen countesses."

"Flatterer," murmured Agatha, winding her arms about his neck, while her kisses burnt upon his lips.

"Gracious Heaven!" cried a deep-base voice, and the lovers started from each other in terror.--Onophrius Goldmann stood at the open door, his left hand hid in his doublet, and supporting himself with the right, for he was exhausted almost to fainting; but his eyes shot lightning at the delinquents. Francis in vain sought to recover from the shame of surprise to his usual braving tone, and Agatha wrung her hands and wept.

"So you have at last succeeded, master Friend, in seducing my child," said the wretched father. "May God reckon with you for it!--and you, obstinate girl, have I not warned, prayed, threatened? Did you not swear to me to shun the man who makes you thus unhappy? How have you deceived me!--a long time deceived me, with your wicked artifices; for, from what I now see, your sin is not of to-day. These are the consequences of the infernal love-songs and romances, which ought to be utterly forbidden to women; their place is at the hearth and the spindle. The mad trash, invented by the dry brains of the poetasters to tickle your nobles, is for them poison. There it is they learn to build up air-castles in the midst of reality--there it is that they find every passion painted in fine colours, and, before they dream of it, their honour is gone, and--God deliver us!--their eternal salvation also."

"I give you my word," at length stammered Francis, "that Agatha's honour shall one day be redeemed before the world."

"You!" cried Onophrius,--"a husband! Heaven have mercy on us! Would you send your wife after the murdered Netz, or, like count Gleichen, get a dispensation at Rome for a double wedlock?"

"Not so rough, old man," exclaimed Francis in a tone of menace; "I don't like to hear such language, nor does it become the servant towards his master's son."

"That is the curse which rests upon the poor and lowly," exclaimed Onophrius, crawling to the nearest chair, and sinking down upon it, exhausted. "It is our curse that we are powerless, and weaponless, and lawless, against the great who wrong us, while, over and above all, we must spill our blood for our tyrants. Maimed in your defence, I return to my hovel, find you in the arms of my seduced child, and when my just anguish pours itself forth in words, you meanly appeal to your father's rank, and close my mouth by despicable threats."

"Maimed!" cried Friend in alarm, and Agatha flew with loud lamentations to her father, who, drawing his left arm from his doublet, showed the stump, bound up in bloody cloths.

"Eternal mercy! your hand!" shrieked Agatha.

"It lies before the house of the widow Fox, in the market," said Onophrius gloomily; "Netz hewed it from the arm just before you killed him."

"It grieves me; but on my honour I will make all good again."

"That is more than you can do: though you were to empty out all your gold-bags into this room, yet would no hand grow again upon this stump; though you were to dress my child in brocade, and adorn her with pearls and diamonds, still she would be your strumpet, over whom I must tear the grey locks from this aged head. Gracious Heavens! how little must you gentlemen think of us poor people, that you fancy all is to be satisfied with gold,--all, life and limb, honour and conscience! Well; God is just, and will one day weigh you in even scales, and find you too light for his heaven."

"Only let two eyes be closed first," protested Francis, "and if I do not then take home your Agatha as my wife, and make you a man of consequence in the city, you may call me villain in the public market-place."

"My good Francis," exclaimed Agatha, affectionately, and gave him her hand, even before the eyes of her stern parent.

"If we both live," said Onophrius, with peculiar emphasis, "if we both live, I will remind you of your promise; but I fear that we shall not get so far; I fear that this day's tumult will have worse consequences than you imagine. That Bieler has been killed is a sad misfortune. The nobles will be mad, and I already begin to shudder at the idea of the jail and the scaffold."

"Is Bieler, then, really dead?" asked Francis anxiously, after a long silence.

"I saw him carried as a corpse to the Guildhall," replied Onophrius. "The thing, too, happened naturally enough. As my left hand flew off, I cut at his head with my right, and you soon after made an end of him."

"Upon all this we'll be silent to every one," said Francis, who had again collected himself. "For the rest, the whole business is of no great consequence. I was acting in self-defence; and you were only doing your duty. If any ill have grown out of it, Rasselwitz, who began the strife by breaking into my house, must be the sufferer."

"That won't satisfy the nobles," said Onophrius, shaking his head.

"Let them bite away their anger upon their nails," exclaimed Francis boastfully. "My father is master here in Schweidnitz, and will not let them hurt a hair upon my head."

"_You_ are safe,--but _I_!" replied Onophrius, thoughtfully.

"You stand and fall with me, old friend. If I ever forget you, or what you have this day done and suffered for me, may God forget me in my dying hour!"

"Amen!" murmured Onophrius with failing voice, and, swooning with the loss of blood, he dropped from his seat.

"He is dying!" sobbed Agatha, as she caught her father in her arms.

"This is a day of evil," shouted Francis, gazing for a moment on the mischief he had wrought, and striking his forehead wildly with his clenched hands, he dashed away.

* * * * *

It was two days after this when the tumult of voices, the stamp of steeds, and the clatter of iron, woke Althea from a morning sleep, which had been troubled, yet beautified, by delightful visions. In her thin night garments she hastened to the window, and saw the streets full of horses, which were led by armed knights. The clang of harness, in the meantime, resounded up the stairs, and a party of knights entered the room in complete armour and closed vizors. The leader of them threw up his beaver; it was the wild Netz.

"Under favour, sister, I bring you a whole bevy of cousins, nobles, and good friends, who are all dying with desire to kiss your fair hand, and would, moreover, beg a breakfast of you."

"What brings you, gentlemen, so early to Schweidnitz?" asked Althea in alarm--"in such warlike guise too!"

"The lord bishop, Caspar, visits the city today," replied Netz, "to speak a few serious words, as prince palatine[1], with our council here, on the score of Bieler's murder. Now, as we know by experience that the citizens have hard heads, and are easily excited to uproar and all sorts of mischief, we have come to give the proper weight to the bishop's words with our steel, if need should be. The strongest party of us have quartered themselves at Barthel Wallach's, because we did not wish to fill your house too full, and we have sent out a watch to give us immediate notice of the bishop's coming, till when we would rest with you, and enjoy ourselves."

At his signal every vizor rattled up, and from every helmet looked a well-known face, that greeted Althea with respect, and amongst them she recognised Tausdorf.

"How! you here, Tausdorf?" she cried, with a vivacity that confounded her own self.

"That surprises you, does it not?" exclaimed Netz. "Troth, when he so bluntly refused to join us in fetching the bay, I had no idea that he would enter upon such an adventure as the present one. But he offered himself of his own accord, which indeed has made me wonder not a little."

"In that there is nothing for wonder," said Tausdorf, gravely. "I have always remained the same. With justice I refused to take part in an action which I deemed illegal; but I hold it for my knightly duty to be in the saddle when it is to defend the authorities of the land, and support them in their sacred office against factions and those who would take the law into their own hands."

"Let that be, my worthy countryman," said Netz; "we'll not dispute about our principles. It is enough for me that we have got you, that you belong to us, and hold the pedlers in the wrong."

"Not so unconditionally as you imagine. The evil originated with the nobles. Whether upon this the citizens too did not go beyond their bounds, that must be inquired into by the palatine, and punished accordingly. We nobles are a party in the matter, and have therefore no voice in the decision."

"In the name of Heaven, Tausdorf, whence have you borrowed this lamb-like patience? Did not the rascals wish to fling you into jail, though you were more innocent of the whole transaction than a new-born babe? Did they not seize your bridle, and try to pull you from your horse?"

"That was long ago forgiven and forgotten."

"Eh! What! The hounds must not venture to fall upon a knight! The bishop must obtain for you a brilliant satisfaction."

"Satisfaction to the law, not to me. The bishop has disputes of higher import to settle, and I should be ashamed to trouble him with this trifle."

"You are a brave knight!" exclaimed the old Schindel, who had been sent to them by Althea, and, having entered unnoticed, had overheard the conversation--"Happy were our principality if all these gentlemen were like you! Then again might grow and flourish the tender olive-tree of civil peace, which the hand of Maximilian so lovingly planted, but at which both the nobles and citizens are pulling and dragging with equal violence, so that in the end it is likely to perish, to the grief of all those who mean it fairly with the land."

"The old man," cried Netz to his companions, "will often say things that we do not like to hear; but one can't be angry with him, because he means it so well with us."

"And because, alas! he is always right in his rebukes," added Schindel, as two servants entered the room with flasks and goblets.

"God be thanked!" exclaimed Netz, and immediately filled himself a goblet. "I was beginning to feel faint about the stomach, and then one is in poor plight for a fray. Fall to, comrades."

The knights complied, and each stood with a goblet in his iron hand:--"But, not to forget the main point," continued Netz; "we have not yet talked of who is to be our leader in this business, which yet is necessary in case it should come to blows. That must be settled directly on the spot."

"Why, who but yourself, brother Netz?" exclaimed Hans Ecke of Viehau: "You have been riding about, and sending round your messengers through the whole principality, till you have whistled us all up to this expedition."

"No, I am not fit for it," said Netz frankly; "I am a better hand at blows than at leading. I should be for hammering away upon the mob at once, and might do you a mischief.--What say you to it, old gentleman?" he added, turning to Schindel.

"You must excuse me. I am about to settle in quiet at Schweidnitz, and must not quarrel with the council and the citizens; but if my opinion have any weight with you, elect Tausdorf. He has vigour and courage for it, and moreover the requisite discretion, which you shatter-brains are deficient in, one and all, and which will be most especially needed in a matter that is intrinsically evil. Besides, he is an imperial officer, whom you may all boldly follow without casting a blot upon your nobility."

"The old one must always give us a rap on the knuckles," said Netz, laughing; "he can't go less; but in the main he seems to me to be right; therefore, whoever amongst you thinks the same, let him draw his sword."

"Tausdorf shall be our leader!" shouted the whole band of knights, and fifty swords glittered in the air. In the same moment Netz's squire rushed in, exclaiming, "Two of the bishop's equerries have dismounted before the Guildhall; he will be here himself in a quarter of an hour."

"Halloah! To horse! To horse!" cried Netz, rushing to the door with his drawn sword. The rest were about to follow him with unsheathed weapons, when Tausdorf thundered out, "Halt!" At the word the knights stood still.

"Put up your swords before you mount," he said, in a tone of stern command.

"Wherefore?" asked Netz, returning angrily.

"You have chosen me for your leader in this business," answered Tausdorf, with all the dignity of command, "and it is your duty, therefore, to obey me; but I am not bound to account to you for every thing I may order. For this time, however, I am content to tell you my motives. Should we ride with drawn swords, the citizens and magistrates might take it for a hostile incursion, or, if they are evilly disposed, might merely pretend to do so, and oppose us with arms, in which case, when the bishop entered the city, he would find the civil war already kindled, which it was the purpose of his coming to avert. Will you answer for the bloodshed that may arise from such a trifle?"

Netz silently sheathed his sword; his brothers in arms followed his example.

"And now, with God, to horse, gentlemen," added Tausdorf, kissed Althea's hand in silent fervour, and strode out. The knights hastened after him.

"What a man! exclaimed Althea, as in the overflow of feeling she sank upon her uncle's breast.

"You are right, niece," replied Schindel, with emotion: "Let him be ten times an Utraquist, yet he is a noble, strong-minded man, and with pleasure should I one day lay your hand in his."

* * * * *

The old burgomaster, Erasmus Friend, paced up and down the large arched chamber of his stately stone mansion, in his official insignia, his hands behind his back, and gloom upon his wrinkled forehead. Just then crept in the doctor of law, Esaias Heidenreich, a thin little man, with a face of cunning.

"Well!" exclaimed the burgomaster, "have you found it out? What would the bishop?"

"Just what I prophesied," replied the doctor, shrugging his shoulders; "he would inquire into this bad business himself, and submit the decision to the emperor."

"That is against our privileges," cried the burgomaster, indignantly. "The penal jurisdiction belongs exclusively to our city in all cases."

"I would not affirm that so unconditionally. Besides, that is no longer the question. His grace, the right reverend bishop, chooses to look at the affair in his own way: the only point then is--_quæritur_--whether you will submit to the authority of the prince palatine, or not? And upon this you must make up your mind speedily, for in a few minutes he rides into our good city."

"The priest need not be always poking his nose into what is not his business. I won't submit."

"Will you then entirely break with the noble old man, who entertains such favourable and tolerant opinions towards all _Acatholicos_? And if, after all, he should choose to maintain his authority by force?"

"Then I order our civil troops to mount, and the corporation to be under arms. Within my walls I am master, and no other."

"But whether the common weal will gain any thing by the measure? I must submit that to your wisdom. Think of the evils which the Smalcald league brought on us eighteen years ago--of the shameful contribution which the town was forced to pay--of the imprisonment which the _consul dirigens_, Furstenhau, had to suffer in the White Tower, at Prague, and here in the Hildebrand. This time, too, it may turn out still worse. Your opposition may be construed into open rebellion: what the penalty of that is, you know as well as I do, and also that Schweidnitz is compassed about by enemies. The land-nobles hate us violently, and the emperor's wrath would find a thousand willing and lusty hands."

"Should I now begin to be afraid of these lordlings, in good truth I were neither worthy nor able to fill this my place of honour. Only let them come. We will so receive them, that they shall think of the old Erasmus all their life long."

"The lord bishop has just dismounted from his horse before the Guildhall," announced the city servant, Rudolph, while his teeth chattered. "The council is already assembled, and all wait for your worship."

"Ring out the alarm-bell," shouted Francis Friend, following close upon his heels. "The land-nobles have rode up to the market-place, in complete armour, near five hundred strong."

"Have they committed any disturbance?" asked Erasmus, hastily.

"No," replied Francis, "nor have they even drawn a sword. They only stand in the market-place, quite still and orderly, as is by no means their way at other times; if you ask what they want, they give themselves out for the retinue of the prince palatine."

"Who leads them?" inquired Erasmus with smothered wrath.

"That I know not," replied Francis; "they have all got their visors down."

"I heard," said Heidenreich, "that their leader is a certain Sparrenberger, surnamed Tausdorf. He has lately come hither from Bohemia, and intends settling in this country."