The magic ring, Vol. 1 (of 3) 9 – Gillies · Verses Across
Literature · Romance
The magic ring, Vol. 1 (of 3) 9Chapter 8
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Literature · Romance
The magic ring, Vol. 1 (of 3) 9
Chapter 8
GilliesEnglish
The Combat with Sir Heerdegen von Lichtenried.
During the relation of this story, a deep gloom had gathered always more and more over the countenance of Theobaldo, so that by the time he had got to the end he seemed quite changed; and now, instead of being a careless merry companion, looked like one whose whole hopes are buried in the grave with some beloved object.
After a pause he said, “You must forgive me, noble warriors, if I have, by such a narrative, thrown a cloud on this happy meeting, and as it were dimmed the lustre of your bright old Rudisheimer. For the most part, I myself am cheerful enough, and can enjoy a goblet of wine, and the sportive conversation of my companions; only, that the mournful events which I have just related come now and then betwixt me and all pleasure; and, until I have relieved my mind by repeating them, I cannot obtain any rest. This happens, because my relations have so often led me to Lisberta’s grave, and told me so much of her beauty, and her sufferings from the treachery of the stranger knight, that the story has been deeply impressed, even from childhood, on my mind. If this Signor Uguccione should ever fall in my way, he may look to his own safety as he best can; for I could scarcely imagine a greater pleasure, than to stab him to the heart with his own bright sword, and at the same moment to call aloud in his ears, ‘Lisberta, Lisberta!’”
At these words, his eyes gleamed like two fiery beacons, from the vehemence of his emotion; but Otto scarcely perceived this, and had attended but little to what now passed. His whole heart was still fixed on the story and distresses of the forsaken Lisberta, till at last his melancholy found relief in words, and he began to relate to his companions the fortunes of his own life, but in the third person, as if the events had happened to another. Thus, he told them how happily he had lived on the banks of the Danube with his beloved cousin Bertha; but now a more powerful attachment had led him away from his home, and induced him to break these early ties; adding, how the two stories of unfortunate lovers had brought his attention painfully back to his forsaken cousin. To conclude, he could not help, in the simplicity of his heart, asking his companions whether they believed that Bertha too would die of grief, like the hermit of the forest, and the betrayed beauty of Milan.
Hereupon the strange knight in rusty armour looked him sternly in the face, and, with a tone and demeanour so changed, that it seemed as if all the friendly feelings that he had before expressed had been frozen to ice within him; he said,--“As thou hast spoken so much of the Danube’s pleasant banks, and of a damsel named Bertha, perchance thou art called Otto von Trautwangen, and thy fair cousin is the Lady von Lichtenried?” Scarcely had Sir Otto answered in the affirmative, when the stranger rose up, placed the massive helmet which he had brought out with him upon his head, and said,--“It is good that we have thus met one another; for I am the Knight Heerdegen von Lichtenried, Bertha’s brother, who, after long laborious pilgrimages through the world, have now returned home, in hopes of finding my sister grown up in the bloom of health and beauty. I have been fortunate therefore in the opportunity granted me of avenging her wrongs on such a conceited and foolish babbler as thou art!” The conclusion of this discourse quite stifled in Otto’s heart the wish for reconciliation which he might otherwise have entertained, and in vehement haste he started up, in order to find his sword and helmet. Meanwhile, as he was thus arranging his armour, the Italian wished to interpose a few words of mediation; but Heerdegen answered him sternly, “Give yourself no trouble; if this young coxcomb, with his silver bright armour, has spoken the truth, then he ought to fall the victim of my revenge; if, on the other hand, he has uttered unmeaning and groundless words, he deserves, notwithstanding, chastisement for that fault.” By this time Otto stood prepared at the entrance of the portico, and pointed to a thicket of trees which stood below on the banks of the river. Sir Heerdegen immediately set himself to close his rusty visor, which was effected with a great crash, then placed himself by the side of his opponent, and they walked together towards the intended field of battle. Theobaldo, meanwhile, who seemed now delighted with what was going forward, moved briskly, sometimes before, and sometimes after them.
“Noble sirs,” said he, when they had come about half-way, “forgive me if I seem thus cheerful, when you have business so tragical on your hands. But through my whole life I have never wished so much for any sight that is recreative and reviving to the beholder, as a real combat for life and death, between two heavily-armed and valiant champions. Such an encounter I would often have tried willingly at the risk of my own life; but it has never been my fortune hitherto to engage in conflict with any assailants better than light-armed cowardly banditti. And when people make pretended fights together, nothing, in my opinion, can be more contemptible and ridiculous. I consider myself fortunate, therefore, as I shall to-day behold a glorious encounter; for I am thoroughly convinced that you will both conduct yourselves like well-proved and undaunted heroes.”
Amid the thickets of the copsewood, the two knights soon discovered a free open glade, with smooth turf, which was well fitted for their combat. Without making farther conditions, or even interchanging a word, they directly took their places, drew their swords, and attacked one another with great wrath and violence, while Theobaldo composedly took his station as a looker-on, leaning against a high lime-tree. The whole air rung with the clashing of their swords, though not one blow hit effectively, but was either driven back by the shield or by their plumed helmets, so that the ground, instead of being stained with blood, was strewed with partycoloured feathers. During the conflict, Sir Heerdegen’s voice was always heard from the hollow of his rusty beaver, calling aloud, “Bertha! Bertha!” and it seemed often as if Otto recoiled at this exclamation, though he still repelled every stroke of his enemy’s sword. Perceiving this, Heerdegen redoubled his blows, and Sir Otto continued merely to ward them off as well as he could, without, as it appeared, attempting to make any farther attack, till at last his shield was cut in two, and he had only one half left in his hand. Then his rage suddenly broke out like that of a wounded lion;--as if a lightning-flash of inspiration had kindled within his heart, he threw aside the broken remnant of his shield,--and from his silver helmet were heard the silvery tones of his youthful voice, pronouncing fervently the name, “Gabrielle! Gabrielle!” At the same time he held his sword grasped in both hands, and therewith inflicted such a storm of blows on his opponent’s head, breast, and shield-arm, that suddenly a stream of blood burst from the visor of Sir Heerdegen. At the moment when Sir Otto perceived this, he held back his sword, and the wounded knight, being no longer able by any effort to support himself, fell powerless, with a great crash of his armour, upon the grass.
Theobaldo and Otto kneeled beside him to render their assistance. The helmet, already almost broken in pieces by the vehemence of Otto’s last attack, was quickly loosed, and Sir Heerdegen’s visage was found covered with blood. Otto, who was well skilled (as every knight ought to be) in the healing art, washed it carefully away; whereupon it was discovered, that the wound began on the right side of the forehead, from whence it stretched across between the eyebrows, and came down over the right cheek. A proper bandage was provided, and securely fixed; but the knight continued to lie there insensible and motionless, as if he were already dead, and in his pale visage, now divested of its former stem expression, a resemblance to Bertha was clearly discernible. As he thus bent over his fallen foe, Sir Otto wept bitterly. An old story came now to his remembrance, which Sir Hugh had often related of a knight, who, in the confusion of the battle-field, had slain his beloved mistress, who was dressed in a coat of mail, which he mistook for that of an enemy; and now he almost accused himself of being Bertha’s murderer. “Ay,” said he to himself, “I deserve no other name. The careless mood in which I took my departure inflicted the first deadly blow, and with her brother’s life I have cut asunder the last ties that bound her to this world!”
The young merchant reminded him, that it was now time to carry the wounded man back to their inn, for the evening was drawing on, and rest in bed was, of all remedies, the most needful. Thereupon they took up their yet insensible companion, and bore him away on their shoulders in such manner, that Theobaldo alone had his head to support; “for,” said Otto mournfully, “if he should awake on the road, he would rather behold your countenance than mine; while, on the other hand, his features remind me so painfully of the forsaken Bertha, that I dare not look on him.” After his arrival at the inn, where he was attended by two of his own squires, Sir Heerdegen again recovered his senses; and on learning that Otto intended to remain there, probably as long as his antagonist’s life was in danger, he said,--“Knight of Trautwangen, if you entertain in reality any friendly intentions towards me, then I beseech you to take your departure this evening, or, if it be possible, within this very hour. Even to look upon you, or hear your voice, has become so intolerable, that, without doubt, I must die if I am any longer subjected to such torment.” In a mood of deep melancholy, Otto then left the wounded Sir Heerdegen, and rode away under the light of the moon and stars, (which were then just risen,) along a road fragrant with blooming woods and flowers, which led towards the town, Theobaldo bearing him company, and riding by his side.
