The magic ring, Vol. 1 (of 3) 23 – Gillies · Verses Across
Literature · Romance
The magic ring, Vol. 1 (of 3) 23Chapter 22
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Literature · Romance
The magic ring, Vol. 1 (of 3) 23
Chapter 22
GilliesEnglish
How the Knights arrived at the Castle of Sir Folko de
Montfaucon.
Amid a green forest, below the heights of the castle, the party had made a halt under the verdant canopy of the beech-trees, in order to enjoy in quiet the cool pleasant air of an autumnal evening, while a courier went before in order to announce the coming of his master and the numerous party of noble guests at the fortress. But scarcely had they dismounted, and begun to pass round the wine-cup, replenished from the sumpter-horses, when the courier returned hastily, announcing, that the Lady Gabrielle de Portamour had already arrived; and, at her desire, the Lady Blanchefleur de Montfaucon had commanded, that an evening banquet should be provided under the green shades of the forest; also, that a procession, led by the two noble damsels, was now descending from the castle. In truth, the knights already saw through the trees the gleam of armour and weapons, the gold and silver vessels for the banquet, and the bright embroidery of festal garments. The Knight of Montfaucon now turned to Don Hernandez and the Count de Vinciguerra, begging, that for a short interval they would take their places in the van of the party, in order to receive the ladies; “for,” added he, “it is proper that we two combatants should make our appearance before the beautiful Gabrielle, in a guise more fitting than that which our rapid journey and this sudden visit has for the moment left within our power.” With these words he went along with Sir Otto into a dense thicket of the valley, whither they were followed by Theobaldo and another squire.
Earnestly, and in great haste, the two young champions prepared for their martial toilette. Their cuirasses and greaves were carefully rubbed and burnished, the leather straps drawn tighter, and the ends plaited up; their helmet-plumes arranged, and their sashes taken off, in order that they might be cleared from dust, and replaced in a fashion more becoming. At the moment when both were adjusting their helmets, Sir Folko looked steadfastly at his young adversary. “Now,” said he, “when you draw down your eagle’s visor, I can explain to myself clearly the dim recollections, which were awoke by the black armour inlaid with silver. Is it not in truth the same coat of mail that was heretofore worn by Count Archimbald von Waldeck?” Sir Otto having answered in the affirmative, he continued, “I shall at some time or another beg of you to relate to me how one so young as you are,--but a mere spring-blossom of knighthood,--could have cased himself in armour such as this. On the other hand, I shall describe to you the many strange dreams by which I have been visited, of desperate conflicts with a black and white eagle, which methought always flew across the Rhine from Germany hither; that it sat upon my head, and, with its powerful hooked bill, plucked at a wreath of flowers which was wound around my temples. When I awoke from this dream, I used to say to myself, ‘Thou thinkest doubtless of battles that may yet take place with the valiant Sir Archimbald von Waldeck. But this may not be. He is bound by the conditions of our former encounter, and may never more claim this ring; yet the eagle is once more prepared for battle before me!’ Come then, brave young Knight of Trautwangen. The ladies await us.” Thereupon the two warriors went together, hand in hand, to join the noble company.
Amid that circle of fair damsels, valiant champions, and skilful artists, Gabrielle’s beauty shone so pre-eminent, that Sir Otto, conscious as he was of the decisive combat and glorious prize that awaited him, was dazzled, and fixed his eyes humbly on the ground. Sir Folko, on the other hand, went up to the lady, and said, “Never, methinks, should I forgive my own seeming discourtesy, in thus arriving later than a guest so noble and so lovely, were it not that it is yet undetermined which will at last be the guest, and which the stranger in these domains. If it so please you, this brave young German is now ready to fix on the conditions of our combat.”
Gabrielle threw an inquiring look on Sir Otto. It seemed as if she doubted if his youth and inexperience admitted of such an encounter; then again, by the changed expression of her features, one could read the return of confidence, as if one so young and simple-hearted were sent like a guardian angel for her defence. “Are you not the youth,” said she, “with whom I once spoke on the banks of the Danube?” “Truly I am the same,” replied Sir Otto in a low voice; “and now stand here in order to redeem the pledge which I then called Heaven to witness.” Gabrielle looked on him kindly, yet it seemed as if she once more began to doubt and hesitate. The Knight of Montfaucon again interposed, saying, “Lady, will you then choose this noble youth for your champion? It is not my custom to propose an encounter with a young and powerless adversary, but with this knight I should willingly enter the lists.” Thereafter the Lady Gabrielle gracefully pulled off her glove from her snow-white hand, and tied it firmly to Sir Otto’s sash. “Thus,” said she, “on your sword I bind my hopes and the just rights of my inheritance!” then, in a low, half-audible tone, she added, “and Gabrielle will be the reward of the victor.” He thought of returning some answer, when near him he heard the murmuring tones of another voice, low, and yet ardent, like the melodious cooing of a turtle-dove. Looking up he beheld a form of the most exquisite grace leaning over the shoulder of Sir Folko, a form in which, from the descriptions which he had heard, he immediately recognised the Lady Blanchefleur; so that he could now well believe all that the knight had narrated to him of his mother’s matchless and imperishable beauty. In spite of death and the grave the same charms were thus renewed once more, living and smiling on the world. Blanchefleur now bent her head humbly towards Gabrielle, and whispered,--“I have but one dearly-loved brother, and must he thus, even to the very end of his life, be engaged in strife and contention, all for the sake of that trifling ring? Shall I never be enabled to call him with certainty my own? Rather, noble lady, let the present battle be decisive, so that the question may be for ever set at rest; and, if my brother falls, then the ring is yours. On the contrary, should your champion be unfortunate, let all pretensions to the ring be given up on your part; only let this contest be final. Pray you, listen to this request, for you have too much generosity to wish that this unequal contest should be kept up any longer!” It was obvious to the by-standers, that Gabrielle now underwent a conflict with her own emotions. At last she looked up kindly, and said,--“Let it be so!” Then, turning to Sir Otto of Trautwangen, she added, with a mixture of fear and dignity of manner, “Sir Knight, my whole weal and woe are intrusted in your hands; and on your valour and generosity I have the fullest reliance.” “May we not then directly enter the lists, even within this very hour?” inquired Sir Otto anxiously, and with the fervour of inspiration. “Not so,” said Gabrielle gravely; “I have not forgotten the armour which you now wear; and perhaps it may be destined to make good on this occasion the disgrace which it sustained in the former encounter; or, perhaps, by new misfortune, to complete the measure of my distresses. But as on that fatal night I was anxious and impatient for the combat, for the present, I am, on the contrary, determined to practise self-control. To-morrow, therefore, you shall enter the lists at mid-day, in the great square of the castle. Till that hour, let us speak no more of the disputes which have led to this meeting; but rather (if it be allowed me to make one more request) let the time be spent in unrestrained mirth and jollity.”
Sir Folko made a low obeisance, and in a few minutes contrived that his party were all elegantly and luxuriously placed beneath the green arcades of the beech-wood. Thereafter sparkling wine and the richest viands were handed round among the guests. This led to much gay and convivial talk; at length also to songs and music, to which various individuals contributed, every one as he was best able. Of a sudden, an earnest request was suggested, and passed from one to another, that the Lady Blanchefleur would sing the tragical fortunes of Heloise and Abelard, with some of the noble masters of minstrelsy, who were there present. For this purpose she sought out a young man from her brother’s train, who was named Master Aleard, and thereafter they began together a ballad, in alternate parts, on the story of these unfortunate lovers, and sang so sweet and mournfully, that when they had concluded, tears gleamed in many a beautiful eye, and even the boldest warriors were moved. Otto felt the sounds reverberate even to his inmost heart; it seemed to him almost as if the whole ballad had been made upon his own fortunes, little as such a melancholy legend was suited to his present condition; and he could not help repeating to himself, in a low voice, some of the concluding stanzas. Meanwhile Sir Folko de Montfaucon looked gloomily on the ground, with an expression contrasting strangely with his usual demeanour. At last he cast a stern angry glance at the Lady Blanchefleur, who was then speaking earnestly with the minstrel Aleard; whereupon she arose, and came hastily to her brother, taking her place beside him, which she did not quit again through the evening. As if now well satisfied with her conduct, Sir Folko devoted almost his whole attention to her, contriving a thousand agreeable stories for her entertainment. It seemed, however, now and then, as if tears glittered in the beautiful mild eyes of the damsel; and the young Master Aleard retired, thoughtful and disconsolate into the deep thickets of the forest. The cool evening now settled on the woods. From the ground, densely strewed with fallen beech-leaves, there arose damp vapours, and the party at length quitted their places, and proceeded, keeping time to mirthful music, up the castle hill. During their march, it was a pleasure to see how the light of their torches and lamps gleamed along the rocky paths through the shades of the now descending night.
