Chapter 3

"Sparrenberger, surnamed Tausdorf," repeated Erasmus bitterly, taking out his memorandum-book and writing in it: "I shall recollect the name again at a fitter season."

"Shall I have the alarm rung?" asked Francis urgently.

Again the old Erasmus began to pace up and down the chamber with long strides. The passion for resistance struggled mightily with the sense of its danger in the breast of the vigorous despot. This was perceived by Heidenreich, who approached him and said with anxious warmth: "If the advice of an old lawyer have yet any weight with you,--and one too who means it fairly with you and the city,--submit yourself for this once, master burgomaster. That, which Francis proposes to you, leads directly to feud with the emperor and the empire, and ruins yourself, and your family, and the town which is entrusted to your providence."

"You will keep yourself quiet, Francis," at length said the old man, after a heavy sigh of self-control. He then turned to Heidenreich--"You will accompany me to the sessions."

With dignified pride he stalked out, and Heidenreich, following him, exclaimed, "Heaven be praised!"--while Francis stamped with his feet, and rushed out after them like a maniac.

* * * * *

The burgomaster, Erasmus Friend, had just taken his place at the council-table amidst many long pale faces, when the attendants in servile haste and anxiety threw open the folding-doors, and the bishop of Breslaw entered, Caspar von Logau, a venerable and hale old man; with him came the hauptmann of the principality, Mathias von Logan. The members of the council rose respectfully from their seats, while Erasmus coldly advanced to the first authority in Silesia. The bishop addressed him with dignified earnestness:

"There have been evil doings in your city, Mr. Burgomaster. I take it for granted you have, as a first step, adopted fitting measures that the state of facts may not be concealed, and that the culprits may not escape punishment by flight."

"The beginner of the fray is arrested," replied Erasmus, "and the body of the deceased is in our care."

"Whom do you understand by the beginner of the fray?" asked the bishop, looking keenly at Erasmus.

"Rasselwitz," replied the burgomaster with eagerness, "Rasselwitz, who broke into my son's dwelling like a common robber."

"You will render up the prisoner to my delegate, which ought to have been done immediately on his arrest. The body of Netz we will presently view together, and then deliver it over to his relations for burial."

"You seem, my lord bishop, as if you would bring this case under the emperor's jurisdiction: but, according to our privileges, the trial and the sentence belong to us, and I must give up nothing of the city's charter."

"There is danger in delay, and therefore we will not waste the time in legal disputations. I will answer for what I do, and the emperor himself shall decide upon the competence of the tribunal. Against this, I presume, you can have nothing to object, Mr. Burgomaster."

"No!" replied Erasmus, with heavy heart and suppressed indignation.

"How is it with the answer on the part of the citizens?" continued the bishop, bringing forth a roll of papers, from which he read--"According to the charge of the Bieler family, there were present and active in the fray, your son, Francis,--the city-messenger, Onophrius Goldmann,--the city-servant, George Rudolph, and a cutler's apprentice.--All these too are, of course, under arrest."

Erasmus was silent, for he felt his error, and was too proud to justify it.

"No!" exclaimed the bishop. "Immediately take measures for bringing them hither under a secure guard. _All_--do you hear me? _all_, not excepting your own son."

The burgomaster was silent, and did not stir, while in his breast rekindled the strife that had scarcely been subdued.

"Well, gentlemen, am I to be obeyed?" cried the bishop, advancing with indignant majesty to the sessions-table, by Erasmus' upper place.

At this there started out of the hall, as if actuated by one spirit, the aldermen, Peter Treutler and Balthasar Albrecht, to fulfil the commands of the bishop, who continued to Erasmus--

"I am almost displeased with you, Mr. Burgomaster, and I hardly know what the emperor, to whom I must communicate this unhappy affair, will say to your proceedings. You Lutherans are constantly harping upon the holy Scriptures, and will be judged only after their words. Well, then, have you not read what the wise king Solomon says, 'Love justice, ye rulers of the earth, for injustice lays waste all lands, and evil life overthrows the seats of the mighty?' But what is to be thought of the equity of a judge, who imprisons the party of the murdered, and suffers the assassins to be at liberty, because his own son is at their head?"

This reproach touched exactly on the sore place, and cut so much the deeper into the soul of the proud elder; he was just about to burst forth in all the vigour of his mind, and with indignant zeal for the authority of his office; but then doctor Heidenreich advanced to him and whispered soothingly, "Since you have determined to submit, do it with a good grace, and make not a bad matter still worse by unseasonable passion." Upon this Erasmus collected himself by a violent effort, champed down the words which he had just been going to hurl against the bishop, and, retreating to the window, gazed indignantly at the nobles, who kept watch on horseback before the Guildhall, in close compact ranks, like so many colossuses of iron. In the mean time, the bishop seated himself in the burgomaster's arm-chair, reading over his papers, while so profound a silence reigned, that one might have heard the buzzing of the flies in the room and the heavy breathing of the anxious aldermen.

At length Treutler returned, followed by Rasselwitz, his arm in a sling, the poor one-handed Goldmann, and the rest of the accused. Armed city-mercenaries brought up the rear.

The bishop rose from his seat to observe the comers, and exclaimed to them authoritatively, "You are prisoners of the emperor and king of Bohemia, and of his chief tribunal at Prague. Give up your arms!"

"We recognize only the assize at Schweidnitz as our judges in this matter," retorted the wild Francis defyingly, in the name of all.

"Is that the respect, Mr. Burgomaster," asked the irritated bishop--"is that the respect which you show to your prince and his laws? I had heard much of the arrogance of the patricians here, and of the Friend family in particular; but this audacity even exceeds my expectations."

"Give up your sword, Frank," said Erasmus with broken voice.

"Sacred heavens!" cried Francis, painfully alarmed--"do you yourself command it, father? Then, indeed, I must obey:"--And he unbuckled his sword, laid it on the council-table, and returned to his companions, who followed his example. The alderman Albrecht now announced that the body of Bieler was brought into the custom-house below.

"We will inspect the corse and confront with it the accused," said the bishop to Erasmus: "you will then separate all parties, and bring them into safe custody. I give them over to you--you alone; but you shall answer for them to the emperor and myself with your head."

He went out with Matthias and Rasselwitz. The council with their prisoners and retinue followed; only the burgomaster remained behind, and grasped Heidenreich firmly by the hand, so that the latter could not join the cavalcade.

"Now, thou prince of peace!" he exclaimed, gnashing his teeth--"had I not done better by causing the alarm to be rung?"

"If you are convinced that such a measure will tend to the general weal," replied Heidenreich, "you may take it still. I would have you weigh, however, that five hundred warriors are drawn up yonder, well armed, and ready to support the bishop's orders. The result of the fray is uncertain, and even if we were to conquer, what would be the fate of all of us?"

"Ah! these nobles!" cried Erasmus furiously. "Well! some opportunity of revenge will yet offer itself, and, by God and his holy Gospel, I will seize it by the forelock--it shall not escape me."

* * * * *

On the Friday after George, in the year 1571, sate Francis Friend, with broken spirits, in the Hildebrand of Schweidnitz, his constant quarters since the time of his arrest. It was already late in the evening, and a melancholy lamp partially illumined the sad chamber. The long durance had subdued the wild refractory mood of the prisoner: even the wine no longer relished. He leaned with his head in his hands upon the table by the side of the full flask, and took all the pains imaginable not to think, that he might escape from the recollections and forebodings which tormented him. The door now gently opened, and doctor Heidenreich, creeping in, roused him out of his gloomy meditation.

"Your worshipful father sends me to you, master Friend. You fate seems to be approaching its decision; and I am come, therefore, once again to speak to you alone about this awkward business of yours."

"Make me no long prefaces, master doctor," cried Francis, starting up wildly, "but speak it out plainly. My sentence is pronounced; I am to die. Well, then, I am content. I have often before this looked death boldly in the face, and would rather perish at once than pine away any longer in this damned hole."

"Always so hasty and impetuous!" said Heidenreich, and sate down quietly by his side. "The question is not yet of the final sentence; but, as a preliminary measure, the rack, in all its degrees, is adjudged to Onophrius Goldmann, and to that they proceed this very night. The delegates of the council will also be present. It is, therefore, above all things requisite to know for certain how deeply you are implicated in the Bieler murder, that the necessary precautions may be taken. Your answers at the examination have by no means satisfied the lords commissioners, nor, to be candid, myself either. Now, therefore, I come to put to you a couple of questions, which you must answer me, but honestly as a son to a father; for, look you, I am to defend you when the examination is over, so that I should be considered, _in jure_, as your physician and confessor, to whom you must speak the truth if you wish to be radically healed. First, then, tell me, did you in the fray actually strike Bieler upon the head with your sword?"

"There you ask more than I can answer," replied Francis with vexation. "The row was all wildness and confusion; I was half drunk too, and rage made my intoxication still madder. I came up roundly to my opponent; but whether I hit Bieler, or whether I did not hit him, that the devil knows best."

"You don't answer me honestly," said Heidenreich with lifted finger, "and thus without occasion impede my colloquy. You must not, therefore, take it ill, if I put my second question as though I were already convinced of your guilt. Did Goldmann see you strike Bieler? or at least does he pretend to have seen it?"

"He chattered something of the sort to me a little after the fray," replied Francis in confusion.

"That's an awkward circumstance. How in other respects do you stand with the man?"

"Well, I think."

"There was a talk in the city of your intriguing with his daughter, and having promised her marriage when your wife should die?"

"Likely enough. In need or in pleasure men make all sorts of promises that they are not inclined to keep afterwards."

"Well, as in the meantime your wife is really dead, we might try with this bait to stop the mouth of Onophrius, so that he may leave you out of question altogether when he is put to the rack. I will go to the old man directly and reason the matter with him. If I can make it clear to him that your misfortune will do him no service, he may, perhaps, take good advice. Meanwhile don't let the time in prison hang heavy on your hands, and be of stout heart. I hope to God that I shall this once also draw you out of your anxiety and suffering.

"Could not you save Goldmann too?" asked Francis good-naturedly: "It would grieve me for the poor devil if he should have to pay the piper."

"That would be rather difficult. Some victim the nobles must have, and you may rejoice if they will be satisfied with the old messenger. However, I will see what is to be done for him, if he stand the torture without confession. God be with you!"

He went, and Francis continued sitting gloomily at the table. The peril, which with every moment approached nearer and nearer to him, straightened his breast sorely. His confidence in the all-powerful protection of his father had already sunk to a very low ebb, and the comfort left him by the doctor did not go a great way either.--"The infernal bay!" he muttered at last, glad to have found something on which he could lay the consequences of his own action--"the infernal bay!"--and he relapsed into a long melancholy silence.

Suddenly there arose below a loud noise and trampling; halberds clattered against each other; doors were opened and shut; and then again a deep awful stillness prevailed.

"What is the matter below?" he anxiously asked the jailer, who then brought in his supper to him.

"Logan Oppersdorf and the other commissioners have just arrived, together with several gentlemen of the council. Goldmann leads up the dance to-day!"

"God support the poor fellow!" groaned the agonized Francis, and ran about the chamber, goaded by all the pangs of hell. Quick footsteps were heard approaching the door: it flew open, and in burst Agatha with dishevelled locks, despair upon her pale, tearless face, and flung herself at the feet of her lover.

"Save, save my unhappy father!" she cried, in tones that rent the heart.

"Collect yourself, my poor girl," said Francis, and raised up the wretched creature: "what would you from me?"

"The dreadful tale has reached even my hovel!" she exclaimed shuddering: "this night my father is to be put upon the rack. He is old and feeble; he will sink under the torture, and confess to deeds of which his soul knows nothing: therefore help, Frank, help, before it is too late. Your hand plunged us into this abyss; your hand must snatch us from it. You have solemnly sworn it to us, and must redeem your word, that God may one day not forget you in your dying hour."

"Leave us alone," said Francis to the jailer; and when the latter had gone, he exclaimed to Agatha, "What would you have of me? You ask help of one who is himself most helpless. Would I be here, if I had the influence which you attribute to me?"

"Your father is all-powerful in this city," cried Agatha, wringing her hands. "It is a trifle for him to help the man who is now to suffer for having saved your life."

"My father's hands are bound by the bishop and the furious nobles. Could he govern at his pleasure, he had surely saved his own son from the grief and shame of a prison. But I have done what I could, and your father's cause is commended to good hands."

"I will believe it," said Agatha, suppressing her feelings, "though I find you terribly cold to a sorrow that concerns you so nearly."

She was henceforth silent, leaning her head on the shoulder of Francis, who embraced her in indescribable anxiety, while the silence of death prevailed in the dungeon. On a sudden, through the nightly stillness broke a hollow shriek from the lower chambers. Francis had a foreboding of what it meant, and shuddered; Agatha listened intently to the groans, which with every moment sounded sharper and more agonized.

"Eternal mercy!" she suddenly cried in wild horror; "that is my father's voice!"

"Perhaps we deceive ourselves," said Francis, endeavouring to soothe her.

"That is my father's voice," screamed Agatha; "I should know it amidst thousands. It must be the pangs of hell that can extort such cries from the iron old man. Gracious heavens! And I hear his shrieks and cannot help him!"

"Cease," cried Francis, beside himself; "you torture yourself and me with more bitter cruelty than any he can suffer on the rack; and you torture us in vain, for by the Almighty I cannot help, though with my own blood I would purchase his!"

Agatha fixed her eyes upon him with a cold piercing gaze of inquiry, and said, "Are you in earnest, Frank? Would you really purchase his life with your own? Well then, call in the jailers; let the judges be requested to suspend awhile the torture: confess yourself the assassin of Netz, and my father is saved."

"And I lost!" exclaimed Francis. "You ask of me more than is reasonable!"

"I was not in earnest," said Agatha contemptuously. "I knew beforehand that your own wretched life was dearer to you than any thing else, and I merely wished to shame the boaster who affected a magnanimity to which his miserable heart can never elevate itself. Father, I _cannot_ save you; this man _will_ not I can do nothing, therefore, but pray for you in the hour of your suffering, that the All-merciful may comfort your soul and preserve it from despair."--And she sank upon her knees; her lips moved softly, and her eyes, turned up to heaven, overflowed with gentle tears, while the cries of agony from below grew fainter and fainter, and at length were silent altogether.

The maiden arose and stood again before the trembling Francis; with awful calmness she said, "A horrid light is beginning to dawn upon me. It seems to me as if my poor father suffered for your crime, the wild vengeance of the nobles absolutely exacting blood in atonement for the blood which has been spilt. It seems, too, as if you were well content to buy yourself free with this expiatory sacrifice. Once again, therefore, I conjure you, Francis, exert yourself for us. If you could not rescue your saviour from the pangs of the rack, at least preserve his life. Save it not merely for me, save it for yourself! For I swear to you, by the agonies of this dreadful hour, if my father perishes, you too are lost! I will bend all the energies of my soul to your destruction; I will steal after you through life as your evil demon, till at last I reach you and hurl the lightnings of vengeance upon your guilty head!"

She rushed out.

"This is a night of hell!" groaned Francis, and dropt back, as if annihilated, into his seat.

* * * * *

It was about the same time of the year, that Althea was sitting in her chamber by the open window, through which played the gentle spring-breezes. Her little Henry drew about the room, on a wheeled platform, a stately knight, proudly mounted, in the full equipments of the tournay, Tausdorf's present to him from Nuremberg. With this he kept up an intolerable clatter, but his mother did not heed him. Before her stood the embroidery frame, in which she had stretched a scarf, but she did not work; and, lost in fairy visions, she listened to the humming of the bees that swarmed in the blossoms of an apple-tree before her window. Then on a sudden echoed the sweet song of the nightingale from the topmost branch, and Althea's bosom swelled in gentle heavings; her eyes became moist, she folded her hands, and with pious looks to heaven, exclaimed mournfully, "Forgive me, Eternal Benevolence! if this feeling be a sin against the memory of my Henry."

"Where now does Herr Tausdorf tarry?" interrupted the child. "He promised to be here early to-day."

"Was the speech of innocence an answer to my prayer?" whispered Althea; and, beckoning the child to her, she took him on her lap, caressed him with fervour, and softly asked him, "Are you then fond of Herr Tausdorf, dear boy?"

"Yes, indeed, from my very heart," replied the little one. "He is always so kind to me, brings me pretty things, and has often let me ride upon his gray horse. I love him more than uncle Netz and all the other knights who visit you. He does not swear and curse so terribly as they do, nor drink such monstrous quantities of wine. I have never either seen him drunk, like uncle Netz, who often cuts a vile figure with the fiery face and glassy eyes. Then he is always so kind and sedate; and I do not know how he manages it, but when he bids or forbids me any thing, I cannot help obeying him, however great my inclination to be froward."

"But you are fond of uncle Schindel?" said Althea, to conceal her delight in the child's answer.

"Oh yes! but then he is a little too old for me. I always think of him as of my grandfather: while Herr Tausdorf is still so handsome, and full of life and energy. It is so I fancy my father must have looked. Oh, if Herr Tausdorf were my father! I would follow him at his nod, and love him--almost as much as yourself, dear mother."

"Sweet boy!" cried Althea transported, and hid her burning forehead in the golden locks of the child.

Three slow, orderly raps were given at the door, but occupied with other matters, she paid no attention to them; at last in walked Christopher Friend, in splendid doublet and rich pantaloons of sky-blue velvet, slashed with green, and trussed with gold points, and a broad collar about his neck of real Brabant lace. With great courteousness and much dignity, he waved his richly feathered cap in salutation. The first glance, that Althea cast upon his crafty knavish face, extinguished every spark of joy in her breast, and with icy coldness she asked what was Master Friend's pleasure?

"Noble lady, I have lived long enough in the dreary state of widowhood to know all its inconveniences, and to desire a change. I want a wife of good person, good birth, and gentle manners; and, considering the great wealth with which the Lord has blest me, I believe myself well worthy of such a one. Worthiest Althea, my choice has fallen upon you. It has, indeed, cost me no little eloquence to wring from my father his consent to this match, of which he would not hear at first, on account of the violent quarrels between the nobility and citizens and the mutual bitterness that has grown out of them. At last, however, I succeeded in bending his obstinacy, and chiefly through the faithful picture of your excellent virtues; and here I am, with his blessing, to woo solemnly for your fair hand."

"I value your courtship as I ought," replied Althea, hastily; "but with my conviction that we are in no respect suited to each other, I answer with a candid _no_."

"_No!_" repeated Christopher, dropping from the clouds. "With such proposals, it is the custom, although the lady have a negative in her pocket, at least to ask time for consideration, from mere courtesy. Your _no_, therefore, is almost too candid."

"I could not prevail upon myself to let you believe in the possibility of our union, even for a moment."

"I should think, though, that the petty estate which you hold at Bogendorf in your widow's right can be no reason for your rejecting so splendid an establishment thus scurvily."

"Then you thought to buy me of my poverty?--Another sign how little we are suited to each other, for I have never regarded wealth."

"That shows your fancy for the Bohemian ragamuffin!" retorted Christopher, whose wrath had burst every curb of manners. "I always wished to persuade myself out of the idea of your caring for the vagabond, but now it is on the sudden clear to me that I am sacrificed for him."

"Have the goodness yourself to repeat your aspersions to him," cried Althea warmly; "but this room you will quit instantly."

"Why should we mutually incense each other without occasion?" said Christopher, quickly composed again, and courteous. "You have rejected my love, which must, indeed, grieve me; but, at least, you cannot prevent me from wooing your friendship; and rest assured I will show you mine so thoroughly, that you shall yet one day rue your harshness."

He bowed himself profoundly, and departed.

"That is an abominable man," said the little Henry. "Had you married him, I do believe I should have run away from you."