CHAPTER VI.
"Evil news, Oberntraut, evil news!" cried Colonel Herbert, as he sat in his tower at Heidelberg, with an open letter in his hand. "Anhalt has been defeated under the walls of Prague--totally defeated! How could it be otherwise? Fifty thousand trained Austrians and Bavarians against thirty-five thousand raw recruits--a mere mob of herds and citizens, and wild Transylvanian horse!"
"What more?" asked Oberntraut, who stood before him with a stern but calm brow. "There must be other news at the back of that; and if you have not yet got it, few days will pass ere it comes."
"There is plenty more," said Herbert, sadly; "Frederic, the Queen, and all the court fled, no one knows whither, and Prague surrendered on the following day."
"I thought so," answered Oberntraut, without any change of tone, "one could see it coming as plain as the Neckar from the bridge. But who is the letter from, your niece? Where is she?--How fares she?"
"I know not," answered the old officer, laying the paper down upon the table and clasping his hands together.
"The letter is from Lodun--but he says no word of Agnes--God help us! But I will not be apprehensive; where her royal mistress could pass, she could pass too. Besides, even if she remained in Prague, these men would never hurt a woman."
"I do not know," replied Oberntraut, with a very gloomy brow. "Tilly is not tender, and such as he have done strange things in the Palatinate lately, as witness Bensheim, Heppenheim, and Otterberg. Herbert, I love your niece too well to rest satisfied so. I must have further news, and I go to seek it."
Herbert rose and grasped his hand, gazing sadly in his face, "Alas! Oberntraut," he said, after a moment's silence, "I fear you are preparing disappointment for yourself.--Woman's heart is a wayward thing, and--"
Oberntraut waved his hand, "You mistake me, my friend," he said; "any disappointment that could be felt has been drunk to the dregs already. Agnes loves me not, as I should require to be loved; and I seek no heart that cannot be entirely mine. I have had my lesson, and have learned it well. I love her still, but with a different love to that of former times; cold, but not less strong; and in return she shall give me esteem and regard. This she cannot refuse; for it depends upon myself, not her--but let us talk of other things. I will have news of her, ere many days be over. I cannot leave my post, 'tis true; nor can you quit yours; but still, neither of us can rest satisfied without some tidings of her fate--you have no indication of which way her steps are turned?--none of where the Queen has gone to?"
"None," answered Herbert. "Lodun says nought that can give the slightest clue. He feared, it would seem, that his letter might fall into the enemy's hands, and wrote most guardedly in consequence.--Yet stay, I recollect that when she left me, the Queen made a solemn promise to send her back hither, if by the chances of war Frederic's court should be driven out of Prague--nor is she one to forget such a promise."
"Hither!" said Oberntraut; "it is an unsafe place of refuge. Here, with war at our very gates; Heidelberg itself menaced daily; weak, vacillating princes, ruining the noblest cause and the finest army ever men had, the Spanish force, daily gaining ground against us; and the whole valley of the Rhine a prey to a foreign enemy.--But it cannot be helped. Even now, most likely, she is on the road; and we must try to shield her from peril, when she comes into the midst of this scene of carnage."
As he spoke a heavy step was heard upon the stairs; and an armed man thrust his head into the room, saying, "The town is in a strange state, Colonel; for the news has driven the people out of their wits with fear."
"What do the fools expect?" exclaimed Oberntraut; "that Maximilian will march hither direct?"
The man shook his head, as if he did not understand him; and Herbert interposed, inquiring, "What news, Ancient?"
"Why, that Spinola has taken Weinheim, and is marching hither," replied the soldier. "Professors and half the students are flying to Neckargemund; and all the rich citizens are frightening each other with long faces in the market-place; while the women are in the churches, praying as hard as they can pray."
"This must be seen to," said the Baron of Oberntraut. "You go and quiet the people, and prepare for defence. I will ride out with my troop, and discover what truth there is in these tidings."
"I love not to meddle," said Herbert, "for I vowed I would have no command, when Merven was put over my head here. But still, I suppose, I must do my best; and, when the hour for fighting comes, they will find that I am young and active enough to defend the place, if not to command the garrison."
"Nay, nay, cast away jealousies," said Oberntraut; "do I not serve under mere boys when the time requires it?"
"Ay, you are mightily changed, my friend," said Herbert.
"I thank God for it," answered Oberntraut, "I have lost nought that was good to keep, and much that was better cast away. But minutes are precious: let us forth. I think the folks will fight when the time of need comes; for these citizens are often more frightened at a distant rumour than a present peril."
"Let those that will, fly," answered Herbert, casting his sword-belt over his shoulder, and putting on his hat. "If we are to have a siege, the fewer mouths and the fewer cowards the better."
The town of Heidelberg presented a strange scene, as the two officers passed through the streets, after descending, by the shortest path, from the castle. Consternation was at its height; and the only preparations to be seen were for flight, not for defence. Men on horseback and on foot--women in carts, many with children in their arms--waggons loaded with goods--every sort of conveyance, in short, that could be found in haste--well nigh blocked up the way leading to the eastern gate of the town, now called the Karl-thor; and in all the marketplaces and open spaces of the city, crowds of burghers were to be seen; some of them bold, indeed, in words, but almost all of them filled with terror, and meditating future flight.
Herbert mingled with the different groups, amidst a population where he was well known, asking, in a calm and somewhat scornful tone,--"Why, what are you afraid of, good people?" and generally adding,--"There is no danger, I tell you, if you have but a little spirit. First, the news is not true, I believe; and, secondly, Spinola has not half men enough to take Heidelberg, if but the schoolboys and parish-beadles will please to hold the gates against him. Come, come; go home and rest quiet. Six months hence it may be a different matter; but now you have no cause for fear."
In many instances, his words, but, more still, his calm tone and easy bearing, had their effect in re-assuring the people. They began to be ashamed of their fears; and a number of the principal townsmen returned to their homes to tell their wives and families that the danger had been magnified. As no farther report of Spinola's approach reached the town during the day, towards evening Heidelberg became far more tranquil, though it must be admitted that the population was considerably thinned between morning and night.
In the mean while, Oberntraut issued forth by the Mannheim-gate at the head of a party of about two hundred horse, and advanced rapidly into the plain. No enemy could be discovered for some time; but at length the young commander saw the smoke of a burning mill at some distance, and concluded thence that Spinola, after sacking Weinheim, had retired, making a mere demonstration on the city of Heidelberg, more for the purpose of striking the inhabitants with terror than with any intention of attacking a place too strong for his small force. Shortly after, from a little rise, the rear-guard of his army could be discovered marching towards Ladenburg; but, at the same time, several large parties of Spanish horse were to be seen on the south side of the Neckar, and two or three cornets could be perceived going at a quick pace along the mountain-road towards Wiesloch.
"On my life! they are somewhat bold," said Oberntraut to himself. "Whither are they going now, I wonder? We must see."
He paused for several minutes, watching; then called up to his side one of the young officers of his troop, and gave him orders to proceed with fifty men on the road towards Mosbach, to inquire eagerly for all news from Prague, and if he met with any of the ladies of Elizabeth's court returning towards Heidelberg, to give them safe escort back. Three single horsemen he despatched on separate roads--the reader who knows the Palatinate will remember that, passing through the woods and orchards, there are innumerable small bridle-paths and cart-tracks--to watch the movements of the party which had been seen approaching Wiesloch; and then, advancing slowly amongst the trees, so as to conceal his force as far as possible, the German officer did not halt till he reached the village of Hockenheim, whence he threw a small party into Waldorf. Night fell shortly afterwards; and Oberntraut was seated at his frugal supper, when one of the men returned in haste to tell him that the Spanish horse had passed by Wiesloch, and just at nightfall attacked Langenbrücken, adding,--
"They had got possession of one part of the town, I think, ere I came away; but the people had barricaded the bridge, and seemed resolved to hold out in the other part."
"We must give them help," said Oberntraut. "How many of the Spaniards were there?"
"One of the men whom I found half drunk upon the road," said the soldier, "told me that there were Jeronimo Valetto's troop and another; in all near three hundred men."
"Well, we are a hundred and fifty," answered Oberntraut. "Go down, call the men to the saddle--but no trumpets, remember; we will do all quietly;" and, as soon as the soldier was gone, he filled himself a large horn-cup full of wine and drank it off; then placing his helmet on his head again, and tightening the buckle of his cuirass, he issued forth, and in five minutes more was in the saddle.
Advancing quietly and silently by the paths through the plain, which he well knew, he approached Langenbrücken, fancying at one time he heard a firing in that direction. As he came nearer, however, all was still; and neither sight nor sound gave any indication of strife in the long straggling village. At the distance of a quarter of a mile the young baron rode on with four or five men in advance of his troop; and, shortly after, heard several voices laughing, talking, and singing. They were not German tongues; and though the language that they spoke was more harmonious than his own, it did not sound sweet to Oberntraut's ear. Dismounting in profound silence, he advanced with four of his men on foot, till he came in sight of a fire at the end of the narrow street, where three Italian soldiers were sitting, whiling away the time of their watch with drink and song; and, approaching as near as he could without being seen, Oberntraut whispered a word to his followers, and then darted forward upon the little party of the enemy. He had one down and under his feet in a moment; the others started up, but were instantly grappled with by the German reiters, and mastered at once. One of them, indeed, levelled a carbine at Oberntraut and was about to fire; but a stout, tall German thrust his hand over the pan just in time to stop a report which would have alarmed the town.
"The least noise and you are dead men," said Oberntraut, in as good Spanish as he could command. "Where is Valetto?"
"Who are you?" demanded the man to whom he spoke.
"I am he whom you call 'that devil Oberntraut,'" answered the young baron; "so give me an answer quickly, or I'll drive my dagger down your throat."
"He is in that house there, where the sign swings," answered the man sullenly, pointing up the street.
"And the rest of the men?" asked the Colonel.
"Oh, in the different houses, where you will see lights and hear tongues," answered the Italian soldier in bad Spanish; and looking over his shoulder at the same time, he saw the young baron's troop advancing quietly over the dusty road into the town.
"Let fifteen dismount and come with me," said Oberntraut in a low voice, as soon as the head of the troop was near; "the rest search all the houses where there are lights; but let a party be at each door before the least noise is made; then cut down the enemy wherever you find them. Give these men their lives; but guard them well."
Thus saying, he advanced, with the number he had commanded to follow him, towards the house which the Italian had pointed out as his officer's quarters. There was a little step before the door; and, as Oberntraut put his foot upon it, he heard voices speaking in the room to the left. One was that of a man, loud, boisterous, and jovial. The other a woman's tongue, soft and sweet, but speaking in the tone of lamentation and entreaty. Something in that voice made the young baron's heart thrill; and, cocking the pistol in his hand, he pushed open the outer door, turned suddenly to the left, and entered the room whence the sounds proceeded.
Before him, seated at a table loaded with viands and wine, was a stout, tall man with a face inflamed with drink; while, a little in advance, held by the arm by a rough soldier, was the never-to-be-forgotten form of Agnes Herbert. Her face was drowned in tears; her limbs seemed scarcely to have strength to hold her up; and yet her eye flashed as she said, "You are cruel--ungenerous--discourteous!"
Valetto started suddenly up from his seat as he beheld Oberntraut's face; and the soldier, who held Agnes, turned fiercely round and was drawing his sword. But the young baron's pistol was at his head in a moment; the hammer fell, and he rolled dead upon the floor.
Agnes sprang forward to Oberntraut's side; and Valetto sank down into his seat again as pale as death, for the heads of five or six German troopers were seen behind their leader, and the sounds of contention, fierce but short--pistols fired, clashing swords, groans and oaths in Spanish, Italian, and German--were heard from other parts of the house.
"Take that man, and tie him!" said the young baron, speaking to his soldiers. "Two will be enough. The rest go and still that noise! I will come after.--Fear not, fear not, lady! The town is in my hands--you are now quite safe.--Here, sit you down for an instant, and I will rejoin you speedily." As he spoke, he led Agnes gently to a seat, and was then turning away to leave her, when she exclaimed, "Oh! my kind friend--there is--there is--one who needs aid in that room behind, if they have not murdered him.--We were on our way to Heidelberg, when--"
"I will return directly," said Oberntraut, as the sound of another pistol was heard, "fear not--all shall be done that you can desire."
Thus saying, he left her; and Agnes, sitting down, covered her eyes with her hands and wept.
In the mean time the two German soldiers had tied Valetto's arms, and he sat gazing upon the fair girl he had been grossly insulting the moment before, with a look of anxious hesitation.
"Speak to him for me, lady," he said, at length, in Italian, "that incarnate devil will put me to death, if you do not. I know his face too well."
"What do you deserve?" asked Agnes Herbert, raising her eyes for a moment, with a look of reproach; "not for what you have said to me, for that I can forgive, though it was base and cowardly, but for what you have done to those who defended me, and only did their duty to the Prince they serve."
"What is it he has done?" cried Oberntraut, who had overheard the last words as he returned to the room.
"Master Algernon Grey," answered Agnes, with the colour mounting in her pale cheek again, "escorted me hither from Prague, by the Queen's commands. He aided the people to defend the town, and was brought in badly wounded. They tore me away from him when I would have staunched the blood; and I heard that man order him to be put to death."
"Take him out to the door," said Oberntraut, "and hang him to the sign-pole."
"I did but jest! I did but jest!" cried Valetto, who had learned some German, "the cavalier is safe--you will find him living. I know--I believe he is living--if he died not of his wounds--I did but jest--the soldiers know it."
"Nay, nay,--I beseech you," said Agnes, in a tremulous voice, laying her hand upon Oberntraut's arm, "I do not seek revenge--I ought not--must not feel it--Oh, spare him!"
"If our noble friend is alive, well," answered Oberntraut, sternly; "but if he be dead, I will avenge him, whatever you may say, lady. The act shall be mine: come, show me where he was?--and you, my friend, make your peace with Heaven, as far as may be, and as soon; for, if I find him not in life, your time on earth will not be more than five minutes. Come, dear lady, where was our friend when last you saw him? I trust this man's words are true; for no soldier would venture to put a prisoner to death, unless by his commander's orders."
"Come," said Agnes, "this way;" and she led him through the door.
There was a man lying across the passage, with a ghastly wound on his left temple, and the blood weltering forth over the scorched and smoke-blackened skin, forming a small pool in the inequalities of the earthen floor. The lady recoiled for an instant from that fearful object; but the life of Algernon Grey was at stake; and, summoning all her resolution, she stepped over the corpse, and pursued her path towards the back part of the house.
It seemed that the German soldiers had not penetrated there; and it is probable that many of Valetto's men had made their escape already by the little garden at the back, the door of which stood open. Some few steps ere she reached it, the fair girl paused and laid her hand upon a lock on the right, hesitating with that terrible contention of hope and fear, from which the human bosom is seldom free, either in one shape or another. She might, the next moment, see him she loved lying a corpse before her eyes: she might find the greater part of her apprehensions vain; but yet fear had the predominance, and it required a great effort of resolution to make her open the door and look in. There was a light in the room; and the moment a step was heard, Algernon Grey turned quickly on the bed where he was laid in the clothes which he had worn on his journey; and, looking round with a faint smile, he said, in a low and feeble voice, "I am better, dear Agnes--the bleeding has stopped. What has that man done?--what was all that noise?"
Had the whole world been present, Agues Herbert could not have resisted the feelings of her heart; and, advancing to the bed-side, she dropped upon her knees, resting her hands on his, and exclaimed, "Thank God!--oh, thank God!"
"Ah, Oberntraut, too;" said Algernon Grey, "then I need not ask what those pistol-shots implied. Welcome, my good friend, welcome."
"Hush!" said Oberntraut, gravely, holding up his hand. "The doctors made me keep silence when I was wounded, and so will I do with you.--Are you sure that the wounds have stopped bleeding?--Come, let me see;" and advancing close to the young Englishman's side, he drew back his vest and the neck of his shirt, which were already stiff with blood, and saw a large wound on the right breast, and another, apparently from a pistol-shot, just below the bend of the shoulder.
"Is this all?" he asked, in a cheerful tone. "Methinks these won't kill you, my good friend."
"There is another just below the knee," replied Algernon Grey; "but that is nothing."
"Let me see," said Oberntraut; "let me see;" and he proceeded to examine.
"It is not much," he said carelessly; "but still, this is bleeding and must be stopped; and we must take care that the others do not break out again. I wonder if there be such a thing as a leech in the place--there must be a barber, and we will send for him. Barbers never fly, for enemies must have their beards dressed as well as friends. Stay with him, dear lady, stay with him, and do something, if you can, to stop this blood. I will send some one who knows more of such matters than I do; my trade is more to shed blood than to stanch it."
He staid to say no more, but hurried out; gave some hasty orders to the soldiers in the house, went farther down the street, looked into several houses where there were lights within and horses at the door, and, having satisfied himself that all resistance was over in the place, he inquired of a countryman, whom he found in one of the rooms, where the barber of the village was to be found.
"Oh, a long way farther up," said the man; "you will see the pole and basin out," and, calling two or three of his troopers to follow him, Oberntraut strode away, giving various orders for the security of his men as he went.
The trade of the barber and the profession of the surgeon were then, very strangely, combined together throughout the world, with the exception of one or two cities in one or two kingdoms, in which the chirurgeon was acknowledged as belonging to a higher and more honourable class than the mere trimmer of men's beards and the shaver of their cheeks. In every country town, however, the latter exercised the craft of bone-setting and wound-dressing, and the learned functionary of Langenbrücken was not at all surprised at being called upon by the Baron of Oberntraut to tend a wounded man.
"You have nothing to do," said the Baron is a commanding tone, "but to stop the bleeding, and to make sure that it does not break out again as we go to Heidelberg. This case is above your skill, my friend, so that I want you to do nought more than I have said: no vulnerary salves and sympathetic ointments, if you please; and, if I find you meddling beyond your craft, I will slit your ears."
"But how is the gentleman hurt?" asked the barber; "let me know that, at least, that I may bring what is needful."
"How is he hurt?" exclaimed Oberntraut, "what a question is that! First, he is very badly hurt, and I doubt he will not recover, so I don't want you to make it sure. Then he is hurt with sword-thrusts and pistol-balls. All you have to do is to bind up his wounds." Therefore come along at once; and, leading him down to the door of the house where Algernon Grey lay, he then went on to ascertain the number of the prisoners, and of the dead and wounded on both parts.
When the barber entered the room to which Agnes had conducted Oberntraut, he found her still kneeling by her lover's bed-side, and with her hand clasped in his; but the wound, from which the blood had been flowing when the young Baron left them, was now tightly bound up with a scarf, so that but a few drops trickled through, staining the bandage slightly. The lady withdrew her hand as soon as the door opened, and the barber proceeded to his examination, and, being not without skill, from long experience, to which science is but a handmaid, he did what was really best at the moment, in all respects but one. His look and his words certainly did not tend to reassure the wounded man, for, with a fault very ordinary in his calling, he was inclined to make the worst of any case presented to him, for the sake of some little additional reputation if recovery took place, and of security if a fatal result occurred.
Poor Agnes's heart sank at the doubtful shake of the head, and the still more alarming words, "A very bad wound indeed--I wonder where the point of the weapon went;" and not even the cheerful tone of Oberntraut, when he returned, could dispel her apprehensions.
"There, get you gone, sallow-face," said the Baron, addressing the barber. "There's a crown for you. Your dismal looks are enough to push a sick man into the grave, were he a mile off it. Well, my good friend," he continued, speaking to Algernon Grey, "you will be upon your feet as soon as I was, I dare say. We must get you to Heidelberg to-night, however, for this is an open place and without defence. You shall have a little wine before you go to keep you up, and I have told the men to make some sort of litter to carry you.--There, do not speak; they told me that speaking was the worst of all things. I will answer all your questions, without your asking. I found a man and a boy in one of the houses hard by; the man shot through the leg, just like yourself, and the boy with a wound through his cheek and two or three grinders lost; but they'll do very well, and can ride as far as need be. Did you come in a carriage, or on horseback, dear lady? I can find no carriage in the place, but horses enough to mount a regiment."
"On horseback," answered Agnes. "We had no time for carriages in quitting Prague."
"Ay, ay! a sad affair, that!" said the young Baron. "But tell me, what has become of the King and Queen, for here we are all in darkness."
Agnes gave him a short account of all that had taken place up to the time of her quitting Prague--under some embarrassment, indeed, for the keen eye of the young Baron of Oberntraut was fixed upon her countenance during the whole time, not rudely, but firmly. Shortly after her account was concluded, and before he could ask any more questions, one of the men came in to say that all was ready, and that the boy had pointed out the lady's horse.
Some wine was then procured, and Oberntraut insisted not only that Algernon Grey should take some, but that Agnes should partake, passing the cup from the one to the other with a meaning smile, not without some share of sadness in it. The hastily-constructed litter was then brought in, and the wounded man placed upon it and carried out. At the door of the little hostelry a number of the villagers had gathered together on the report of the enemy's discomfiture, and Oberntraut addressed them in one of his blunt short speeches, saying, "I have a great mind to burn your town, you knaves, to punish you for not defending it better; but look well to the wounded and I will forgive you. Keep a shrewd watch over the foreigners, and send them in to Heidelberg as they get better. I have left only one of my men with you, and if you do not treat him well I will skin you alive. There, bring the prisoners along;" and, placing Agnes on her horse, he mounted and rode away.
CHAPTER VII.
The long and weary hours of sickness fell heavy upon Algernon Grey. Never for a day during the course of life had he known the weight of illness before, at least within his own remembrance. Powerful in frame, and vigorous in constitution, moderate in habits, and inured to robust exercises from early youth, life had been hitherto all light activity; and if some sorrows and cares had touched him, they had not had power in any way to affect his corporeal frame. The aching head, the dim and dazzled eye, the fainting heart, the weary and powerless limbs of the sickly or the overstudious, he had never known. It had only been with him hitherto to will and to do; the body had been no clog upon the mind; and the active energies of both had seemed to give fresh strength and vigour to each other.
Now, day after day, and week after week he lay upon a sick couch in the castle of Heidelberg. Feeble, languid, full of pain, with every movement uneasy, with broken sleep at night, and drowsy heaviness by day, his cheek and his eyes dull, he lingered on under the unskilful hands of ignorant surgeons, who, with the wild phantasies of the time, only prolonged the period of sickness by the means which they employed to cure the wounds he had received.
All that could comfort or could soothe was done indeed by those around him, to alleviate his sufferings, and to make the heavy time pass lightly. Herbert was with him long every day; and Agnes, too, with a maid to bear her company, sat many an hour beside him. She read to him the books he loved, she sang to him the songs which she thought might waken hope and banish despondency: she conversed in gentle yet cheerful tones, and the sweet sound of her musical voice was the only medicine he received which seemed at all to advance his cure.
There was no opposition to her wishes. She came, she went, when she would; and yet not one word had passed between her and Colonel Herbert on her position with regard to Algernon Grey. He seemed to comprehend it all; to see that they loved mutually and truly; to know that to withhold her presence from him would be to destroy him; that to refuse her the solace of tending him would wring the gentle heart which it was the thought and business of his life to render happy. He was a man of a peculiar character too, not singular--though I had nearly used that word--for there are many such in the world: he was doubtful and careful at first, perhaps somewhat suspicious; but his confidence once gained, it was unbounded; and no thought of cold proprieties, no question of what the world would say, ever shackled the energies of any generous impulse. He had set himself free years before from all the trammels of convention: he had seen another do so from love for him. It had produced, though it so seldom does so, perfect happiness to both; and he perceived no reason why, between two beings pure and high, and honest in mind, the same conduct should not effect the same result. It might have been a fatal error had he mistaken the character of either, even in the slightest point. But there were other causes for his calm acquiescence in all that Agnes wished. Up to the hour at which she left him for Prague, he had watched her from infancy with fond care and anxiety; all her actions had been under his own eye; her very heart and soul had seemed open to his view; and he had given to her mind in many things the bent of his own. Though he loved the free, wild spirit that animated her at times, he had directed, he had counselled her; but now, for more than a year, she had acted entirely for herself. He had accustomed himself completely in thought, to look upon her as independent of his advice and control; and in none of her letters had he found one word to make him wish that his guidance was still extended over her. She had been alone too, with Algernon Grey in troublous times, and difficult circumstances, for many a long day: she had assured him, that, during that time, no brother could have treated her with more kindness and consideration; and he knew that Agnes would not say that, if there was one dark spot in all the memory of their intercourse. Love, he saw, it was too late to guard against; and for all the rest, he had the fullest confidence.
But there was another who also, from time to time, visited with kindly feeling the chamber of the sick man. The young Baron of Oberntraut came, whenever he set foot in Heidelberg, to see his former adversary. He conversed cheerfully, and yet considerately with him; he told him tales of all those wild and daring exploits which he himself and his gallant band performed by day and night against the enemy, who were now overrunning the Palatinate in every direction--exploits with which the pages of the old chroniclers glow; for, if ever there was a name which, for devotion, gallantry, unceasing activity, and brilliant success with small means, deserves to be placed upon the roll of heroes, it is that of John of Oberntraut. But, of the sad reverses which the forces of the protestant princes met with, in consequence of the weakness, indecision, and discord of their leaders, Oberntraut spoke not; for he well knew, that to depress the spirits of his hearer, would be to frustrate every means employed for his cure.
Yet at times he would gaze at him, as he lay with pale cheek, dim eye, and bloodless lip; and a look of thoughtful, sad, and intense speculation would come into the gallant soldier's face. What was it that he pondered? What was it that he calculated? Heaven knows! I cannot tell. Then, generally, he would turn away hastily, and bidding his companion adieu, leave the room.
It was one day, after a fit of this sort of dreamy meditation, that going down to the Altan to gaze into the plain of the Rhine, he found Agnes breathing the free air, for a short space, before she resumed her post in her lover's sick chamber. She spoke with him kindly and frankly for a moment; and he talked to her with a thoughtful and abstracted air; but very few words had passed, ere she bade him adieu, and turned to go.
"Stay, Agnes, stay," he cried; "I want to speak with you."
She turned, with her cheek somewhat paler, and a degree of alarm in her look, which she could not hide; for now that she knew more of love, she was well aware that Oberntraut had loved her; and she feared that he might love her still.
"You avoid me, Agnes," he said; "nay, hear me--I see it well--or, if you do not avoid me, you feel a restraint, an apprehension, when I am near you. There is but one means of banishing this; and, for both our sakes it must be banished: that must be by a frank explanation on my part. There was a time when I loved you more than life,--when I hoped I might be loved in return; and then, with rash vanity and eager passion, I would have taken the life of any man who attempted to cross my course.--Come, sit you down here, dear Agnes; for you tremble needlessly; and, when you have heard me to the end, you will never fear me, or shun me again. I tell you what has been, not what is. I saw you meet another; I saw your hearts and spirits instantly spring towards each other; I saw your eyes mutually light up with the same flame;--Why colour so, sweet lady? It is true, and natural, and just. I was half mad; I did him wrong; I sought his life; I placed him in a situation of danger, difficulty, and it might have been, dishonour. I was vanquished, surpassed, and frustrated. From that hour I knew you never could be mine; I felt I must have lost much of your esteem; and that I had never possessed your love. I resolved that I would regain your respect, at least;--ay, and your friendship. Weakened, tamed down, and softened, I spent the hours of sickness in arguing with my own heart, and conquering my own spirit; and in this combat, at least, I was successful. I cast the thought of love away from me; I made up my mind to the fact, that you were to be his. I could not deny to myself that he had acted generously by me; and I resolved that I would return it by my very best endeavours. I knew, at length, that he who lies ill up there had rendered me the best service; and, with a terrible struggle, but still a successful one, I cast jealousy, and anger, and mortified vanity, and irritated pride away, resolving that he should be my friend, and I would be his. So much for what is between him and me, Agnes; now for our part of it. I loved you passionately then. I love you calmly, coolly now, as a brother, Agnes,--as a friend; not only, no longer with hope, but no longer with passion. There is yet a remnant of pride in my nature; but this pride has turned to good and not to evil; for it has taught me to read myself, and study myself. I know that I could never be satisfied with aught but the first, fresh affection of a free and untouched heart; that I should be jealous of every thought--ay, even of every remembrance--of the dead, even as well as of the living; that from the woman who consented to be mine, I should require the whole affections of her nature, from the first to the last. I would not have in the whole past, one spot upon which her memory could rest with regret. I would be her happiness; and she should not have ever dreamed of other love but mine. In one word then, Agnes, if he who possesses your love, and I do believe deserves it, were to sink under the wounds he has received--which God forefend!--this hand, once so coveted, should never be sought by me. I tell you so to set your mind at rest, that we may be all that we ever can be to each other--true friends. Shrink not from me henceforth--dread not my presence or words. Look upon John of Oberntraut as your brother, if you will; and at all events believe that nought which a brother's love could do for a sister will not be done at any time by me for you; nought that the warmest friendship can prompt shall be wanting on my part towards him you love."
"Oh, thank you! thank you!" answered Agnes, giving him her hand. "This is kind, indeed. But, tell me, were those words you spoke just now about his state, but hazarded to show your meaning, or uttered as warning to me to prepare?"
She covered her eyes for a moment, and then added, in as firm a tone as she could command,--
"You said, if he should sink under his wounds. Oh, tell me! tell me! is this likely? He does not seem to amend, or so slowly that one day shows no gain upon the other; and these men who come to attend him, with their grave faces and scanty words, alarm rather than re-assure me. My heart sinks when I see them."
"Nay; he will do well," said Oberntraut, in a kindly tone. "No thanks to them, I do believe. 'Tis despite of their art, rather than by it, that he will be cured: by a strong frame, and not by drugs and salves. He will do well. Even to-day he is better. There is more light in his eyes; his lips are not so pale; his voice was somewhat stronger.--But there is one question I would ask you, Agnes. Do you yet know who he is?--Are you aware that this name of Algernon Grey----?"
"Oh, yes!" she answered, with a smile, cheered by the hopes he had given. "I have long known all; but you should not doubt his honour in aught. He has not a thought that is not high and true."
"I do not doubt," he answered. "I am sure he is honest and noble; but many a tale hangs long upon the lips, in times of trouble and of sickness. I heard this, of which I have spoken, from some of his men, who have come in from Breslau, and who seem to love him much. They came asking for 'the earl,' and no one knew whom they meant till I questioned them.--But a word or two more must be said, dear lady, before we part. I would fain that he cast away these men's medicaments. I firmly believe they keep him ill, and that, if left to nature, he would have been well ere now. It is very needful that he should recover speedily. The sky is growing very dark, lady: Tilly, that fierce butcher, is already on the Rhine; post after post has been lost by our weak generals. Though Franckenthal holds out, yet it, and Heidelberg, and Mannheim, are all the places of good strength that we possess; and what can I do with a few hundred men? or Horatio Vere, in Mannheim, with his handful of English? Heidelberg will not be long ere she sees the Bavarian under her walls. Herbert will not leave this castle so long as there is breath within him. I may be away, or dead--who can tell?--and there must be some one to protect and guide you. We must have him well with all speed. Would he would cast away these drugs. The physicians keep his chamber far too hot. Plain cold water and free air would do more than all these potions."
"Is there not a famous man at Heilbronn," asked Agnes, "whom we could send for?"
"That is well bethought," answered Oberntraut. "But there is one man here who, though no physician, has studied nature and her secrets more than any of them--old Dr. Alting. I will go down and bring him up; and, if he sanctions my plan, we will pursue it, without asking further help. Farewell, for the present. Cheer him, cheer him, dear lady;" and, thus saying, he hurried away.
Taking the path under the old arsenal, which stood in front of the large octagon tower, Oberntraut hastened down into the town, and soon reached the house of Dr. Alting. He asked no one for admission; but, with his usual impetuous spirit, opened the door of the outer chamber, and was walking straight towards the old professor's library, when his servant-maid suddenly appeared, and placed herself in the way, saying, "The doctor is busy, noble sir, and said I was not to let any one disturb him."
"I must disturb him," answered Oberntraut, putting her unceremoniously aside, and walking on towards a door, through which he heard voices speaking. The moment after, he laid his hand upon the lock and pushed with his strong arm. Something resisted slightly; but the small bolt gave way, ere he had time to think and withdraw his hand, and the door flew back.
Old Alting, with his black cap off and gray hair streaming, ran instantly towards him, as if to stop his entrance; but, at the same time, Oberntraut saw clearly a man's figure, wrapped in a large falling cloak, pass through the opposite door.
"Why, how now, doctor," he exclaimed; "are you busy with your familiar? I beg his highness's pardon, for intruding upon his conference with his master, and yours, too; but you must excuse me, for I have a friend sorely ill, up at the castle, of three bad wounds and two worse leeches; and I would fain have you tell me what you think of his case."
The old man seemed sadly discomposed, and ruffled in temper. "Am I a physician or a chirurgeon either?" he cried. "In truth, Baron of Oberntraut, I will not be thus disturbed, when I have a pupil with me. I will not have aught to do with your friend. Let him get well as he can. It is not my trade to cure wounded men who get themselves hurt, brawling with their neighbours and breaking God's law."
"Nay, nay, my good doctor," exclaimed Oberntraut. "Poor Algernon Grey has been doing nought of the kind. He was defending your friend Herbert's fair niece, that was all."
"Algernon Grey!" cried Doctor Alting. "Is it Algernon Grey? Why, I knew not he had returned. He has never been to see me. That was not right; but I will come--I will come."
"He could not visit you, my good friend," replied Oberntraut, "unless he was brought on men's shoulders; for he was well nigh knocked to pieces at Langenbrücken now more than two months ago, and has ever since been lying in the castle, with two men trying to promote his getting worse."
"I will come to him," said Alting, more calmly; "though you are a rude visitor, my good young lord. Wait for me a moment, and I will go with you--if I can."
Thus saying, he left Oberntraut, who muttered to himself, "If he can! What should stop him if he will?"
The next moment he heard voices speaking again in the room beyond, and he walked to the window that he might not catch the words.
At the end of about ten minutes, the old man returned, with a broad hat upon his head, and a mantle over his shoulders. He was followed by another personage dressed in black, with his neck and chin buried in a deep ruff, forced up by the collar of a large wrapping cloak. On his head, too, was an enormous black beaver, pressed far down over his brow, and his face was farther hidden--not by the ordinary moustache and small pointed tuft of the time, but by a wide-spreading beard, which covered his whole chin and cheeks.
Oberntraut gazed at him firmly for a moment; and Dr. Alting, as if imagining that the young Baron's inquiring look might embarrass his companion, said, in a quick and hurried tone, "This is a learned pupil of mine, who, since I saw him, has travelled in many lands, and has learned a great many curious and valuable secrets. He will go with us, and give us his advice."
"I thank him heartily," said Oberntraut, gravely. "We had better set forth, my good friend; and, as the shortest way, we will go through the garden-gate, under the mills, and then up through the subterraneans;--I have the keys."
Thus saying, he moved towards the door, but stopped for a moment, courteously, to let the stranger go first. As soon as they were in the street, he led the way to a narrow lane which conducted to the old wall, below that part of the gardens where the valley had been filled up with rocks and earth to form terraces. A few hundred yards from the entrance of the lane, a small arch was seen in the wall; and Oberntraut, producing a key, gave admission to his two companions. Locking the heavy, iron-plated door as soon as they were within, he looked around, and seeing some labourers working on a path to the right, he took the zig-zag road to the left. It was a good deal longer, as both Dr. Alting and himself well knew; but the worthy professor made no observation, and followed in silence. Some way up the slope, a small open arch with an iron grate was seen; but it also was opened by the young Baron's keys, and he led the party, by various stairs and passages, till they came out beneath the steps leading from the Altan to one of the smaller entrances of the castle. Then, hurrying his steps, Oberntraut, as if some sudden fit of impetuosity had come over him, mounted towards the higher parts of the building so rapidly, that the poor old professor was obliged to call for mercy.
"Well!" muttered Oberntraut to himself, "the castle is nearly deserted now; and there is no great chance of meeting any one. This way, my reverend friend--in the chamber above lies my young companion;" and, going on more slowly, he opened the door of the room where Algernon Grey had remained ever since his arrival.
Agnes Herbert was sitting by the bedside, with a book in her hand; and her maid was seated in the window, busy with some embroidery. But the young lady instantly closed the book when Oberntraut and his companions appeared; and, beckoning her aside, the young Baron said, in a voice loud enough to be heard by all, "I have brought Dr. Alting to see our friend Algernon; but I wish, dear lady, you would send for your uncle, to his lodging in the tower. He is down at the Trutzkaiser. Tell him I have something important to say to him, and will join him in a few minutes."
Agnes looked somewhat surprised at the request; for the message might as well have been conveyed by an ordinary servant; but Oberntraut's face wore a peculiar expression; and, merely bowing her head, she left the room with her maid.
In the meanwhile, Algernon Grey had turned round uneasily on his bed, and welcomed Dr. Alting with a faint smile.
"Lie still, lie still," said the old man, advancing, and taking his hand: "I have come to see what can be done for you. So, you have been wounded, it seems--and two months ill. They must be strange physicians, not to have killed you or cured you in that time!" and he pressed his fingers on the young man's pulse.
"I say that all he requires is fresh air and cold water," said Oberntraut: "if he has those, he will be well in a week."
"As to fresh air, you are right," answered Dr. Alting. "The frost is gone, the wind is mild;--open that window at once. As to the cold water, we must inquire farther;" and he proceeded to examine the wounds in the young gentleman's breast and shoulder. "Two months?" he said at length.
"Nay, well nigh ten weeks," answered Algernon Grey, faintly.
"Then, cold water is not the remedy," said Dr. Alting; "good sound wine of the Rheingau--a moderate quantity at a time, but frequently repeated--and wholesome and nourishing food, is all that is required. Take no more of these medicines, my young friend;" and he pointed to some potions on the table; "they might be good enough at one time; but the disease has spent itself, and all you want is strength to heal your wounds. Is not that your opinion, my learned friend?" he continued, turning to the gentleman who had accompanied him.
"Assuredly!" said the other; "but I will add a remedy, which will greatly aid his cure. It is a secret however, which no one must hear. If you two gentlemen will retire for a moment, I will join you at the door immediately."
Oberntraut instantly withdrew, without reply; and Dr. Alting followed more slowly. But as soon as they were in the corridor, and the door closed, Oberntraut grasped the old man's arm, saying, in a low tone, and with an agitated look, "This is a terrible risk!--we have no force to defend the town, in case of sudden attack. 'Twere better to send off for Vere and his men directly, and leave Mannheim to its fate, rather than suffer the King's person to be so risked;" and he took a step towards the head of the stairs.
"Stay, stay!" cried Dr. Alting, catching him by the sleeve; "let us hear farther, ere you act."