“Some of the wealthy gentlemen are just beginning to wear the cuirass.”
“Desist, Master Hildprand,” said the knight, “else I shall have to stop my ears.”
With these words Veit turned to several of the workmen and watched them a short time. Then he stepped up to the apprentice, who was engaged in polishing a headpiece.
“This kind of headpiece is also fast disappearing,” said the master. “They are now replacing it with the brigantine, which gives much better service.”
“Don’t trouble yourself to explain, Master Hildprand! You can’t make me believe in your improvements,” replied Veit. “But be sure that I get my dagger before night at the Rebstock, do you hear?”
“My boy shall take it to you. Do you know where the Rebstock is, Florian?”
“Yes! that is where the baker’s boy was killed,” said the apprentice.
“It is not my usual resort,” said Veit, vexed at the remark which was far from complimentary to the knight’s choice of lodging, “but I am visiting an old acquaintance there.” Giving the apprentice a smart slap on the shoulder, he added: “You seem to have a glib tongue of your own, my boy, but you do good work, I see, and you are quick about it too.”
“Oh, he can polish that kind much better than the old-fashioned ones,” said the smith, with a glance of pride at the lad. “He is my sainted sister’s son and was born at Stans. He lost his father, mother, and all six sisters by the plague.”
“Ah! that evil plague,” sighed Veit; “it found victims in our family also. Now, good-bye, Master Hildprand.”
“Wait a moment, noble sir,” said the smith. “I will show you some more new things, among them a movable arrangement turning upon a pivot under the vizor. It protects the chin and neck, and will—”
“Curse you and your improvements. I have heard enough about them already,” said the knight as he hurried away.
The Rebstock stood in a blind alley, obscured by overhanging buildings. The reputation of the place was none of the best. It was patronized by the lower classes, and it was reported that its keeper received and sold the plunder stolen by the robber knights of that vicinity. In a little room which gave upon the narrow back yard, and was reserved for noble guests, sat Veit and Jörgel with a third companion. The latter was the young nobleman, Conrad of Waltihof, who is already known to us by name and who was invited to come there by Veit and participate in their plans during the great surprise which was to happen in the good city of Zurich that day.
It was already dark. A pair of tallow candles shed a feeble light upon a table near the window on which were some glasses of Alsatian wine and at which the three were passing away the time throwing dice. The faces of the players were flushed with the excitement of the game and their varying luck rather than by the effects of the wine, of which each could carry a heavy load. They disputed several times, gave vent to curses, and gesticulated as if they were about to fly at each others’ throat, but their quarrels invariably ended in words, not blows. Jörgel at first had won many times the ten shillings he owed Conrad, but he also frequently lost, and at last his losses increased so fast that his debt was very large. He cursed the caprices of the fickle goddess of fortune but consoled himself with the thought that these losses were trifling compared with the treasures he would soon acquire. “Ha! ha!” he roared, “there will soon be such a game as Zurich has never seen before.”
“Restrain yourself and don’t shout in that way,” said Veit, laying the dice aside. “It is a long time yet before the clock will strike ten and the gates open to the Rupperschwyls.”
“They ought to be all around the city before this time,” said Conrad.
“All my ten fingers are itching for our work,” said Jörgel, “but it is too bad we cannot get at the rich goods of the merchants.”
“We ought to have had wagons to carry the plunder to our castles,” said Conrad.
“Worse than that, we are expected to divide with the landlord,” said Veit, “and the thought does not please me. Therefore I think it would be better for us to take the money to the nearest bankers. And mark what I tell you: if any one interferes with us we can then swear we have clean hands. The Rupperschwyls and patricians can look after the slaughter, for they will kill Burgomaster Brun and the entire new Council.”
“Did you hear that?” said Conrad, laughing. “Just think, Jörgel, of Veit’s tender conscience. It is as easy as if he had never—”
Conrad suddenly ceased talking. A deep sigh was heard which did not come from any of the three. They sprang from their seats and looked about them. Jörgel had the most acute hearing of them all. He traced the unaccountable sound to the vicinity of the door and soon found a figure seated in a chair in a dark corner which the candles failed to light. Uttering a terrible curse he dragged the witness of their conspiracy into the light.
“Boy, you must die,” he cried furiously, at the same time holding his victim by the throat so tightly that he could only emit a feeble groan.
“First let him tell how he came here, and let him say his prayers before he dies,” said Veit.
“No,” said Conrad, “no mercy to a spy.” In his wrath he drew his dagger, but he weakened some when he saw a dagger flashing in the uplifted hand of the boy.
“Hold there!” exclaimed Veit. “This is Master Hildprand’s apprentice. Let him loose, Jörgel, let him loose, or I will release the poor fellow.” As Veit’s hand was already upon his weapon, and he was in no mood to be refused, Jörgel obeyed.
“Now, confess,” said Veit to the boy in a severe tone. “Your master sent you here with my dagger, but surely not to play the spy. Speak, youngster!”
Florian Häbli threw himself at the knight’s feet and protested his innocence. He said he was brought to the room by the landlord, and when he entered the gentlemen were so excited over the dice that they did not notice him. Then their furious dispute frightened him. He dared not advance, and was so terrified that he took the seat in the corner. He was speedily overcome by sleep, for he had been up all the previous night and was deadly sleepy. When or how he awoke he could not say.
“What have you heard of our talk?” said Veit, harshly.
Florian did not instantly reply, but at last said: “Nothing, not the slightest thing.”
“He is a lying knave,” said Jörgel. “Do you not see how he reddens at every word?”
“Let’s make an end of him,” said Conrad, seizing him by the throat.
“Take your hand away,” said Veit. “This lad is Master Hildprand’s apprentice and his favorite sister’s son, of whom he is very fond. We must do nothing that will hurt the master, for we all need him. He knows where he sent the boy, and if he does not return he will know where to look for him. Supposing we kill the lad, how can we conceal his body without taking the landlord into our confidence and placing ourselves completely in his power?”
“Supposing, then, we shut him up until everything is over,” said Jörgel.
“Then he will raise an alarm,” replied the knight.
“We can keep him here if we bind and gag him,” suggested Conrad.
“But we cannot keep him without the knowledge of the landlord,” objected Veit. “I would rather trust the lad than that throat-cutter.”
“What, then, shall we do?” asked the two conspirators.
“Let the boy take an oath that he will not reveal anything he has heard.”
The other two laughed derisively. “How will an empty oath help us?” said Conrad.
“Silence!” said Veit. “An oath is sacred to this lad.”
He held his dagger hilt as a cross before the apprentice and recited the words of the oath. He was to promise in the name of God and all the saints, and as he valued his own soul, never to reveal to any one what he had heard. He would call down upon himself terrible punishment in this world and everlasting damnation in the next if he violated his oath.
With visible emotion the boy repeated the words after him. Veit expressed his satisfaction and let him go, with the injunction to return to the smithy without delay.
When Florian found himself in the street once more his experience seemed like a feverish dream, yet he remembered all that the three men had said, notwithstanding he had denied it when death threatened him. The danger which was hovering over the city and the fate of the people weighed heavily upon his spirit. And yet his lips were sealed by a terrible vow not to make any disclosures, even to a priest, without bringing eternal condemnation upon himself. As he went homeward, suffering with this agony of soul, his comrades were returning joyfully from their work, and fathers were sitting upon the doorsteps with their families, enjoying the beautiful moonlight. On this very day, in a few hours, this peaceful scene would give place to murder and pillage and the horrible work of bloody hands.
He was soon in front of the cathedral. It was still open, inviting the repentant and suffering, and involuntarily he entered. Not a soul was to be seen in the vast interior. The moon shone through the tall windows upon the high altar. Seized by a sudden impulse, Florian knelt upon the altar steps and prayed to God for help for the endangered city and consolation for himself. After a fervent prayer he started to leave the sacred place. As he did so, his ear caught the sound of low voices, and looking in the direction from which it proceeded, he perceived a soft gleam of light. He advanced unheard to the confessional. A dark figure, whether man or woman he could not distinguish, was kneeling before it and whispering confession to the priest, who after a few questions said something in response. The white statue of a saint stood near the confessional. An idea flashed through the boy’s mind like lightning. He knelt before the statue, stretched out his arms imploringly and loudly exclaimed: “Oh, thou blessed image, the greatest danger threatens the city. The patricians have sworn to kill the burgomaster and Council, and at ten o’clock the gates will open to the Rupperschwyls and their followers. I am vowed to silence. I have sworn not to reveal this to any one, but I can keep the secret no longer. Therefore I confide it to thee, and if God, the Lord, does not perform a miracle and open thy mouth, then my words will fall upon deaf ears. But God is my witness that all I have said is true. Amen.” Florian noticed that the whispers had ceased. He arose and hastened out of the church.
The night wore on and the streets grew more deserted and silent. The three robber knights in the back room of the Rebstock were dicing again, and in the excitement of the game had forgotten all about the smith’s apprentice. A bell sounded in a neighboring tower and all three counted its strokes.
“Nine o’clock,” said Veit; “only one hour more and the devil will be loose.”
They resumed their dice-throwing, but suddenly the bell was heard again. Its strokes followed in rapid succession, and now all the other bells in the city began to ring. From the summits of the towers the watchmen’s horns sounded clear and loud. The storm was about to break. The terrible news spread all over the city that it would be attacked at ten o’clock and given over to fire and sword. There was excitement in every house, and lights suddenly flashed in the windows. The glare of pitchy torches made the streets light as day. The soldiers’ quarters resounded with the shrill din of trumpets, and the guilds in armor marched under their banners to make such resistance as they could. At last the enemy poured through the gates, but the Zurich nobles and their Rupperschwyl allies went down in defeat.
Our three robber knights meanwhile had been warned by the signals and wisely remained at the Rebstock, which they did not venture to leave for several days. At last they returned empty-handed to their castles. At first they swore they would kill the apprentice, for they had no doubt that he was the traitor, notwithstanding his oath. The truth, however, gradually dawned upon them and relieved Florian from suspicion. It was everywhere related that the wife of one of the patricians had become conscience-stricken and confided the secret to a priest, and that in this way the burgomaster was warned of the approaching danger.
As the outcome of the “murder night,” Zurich joined the League. Lucerne had already done so, and Berne, Zug, and Glarus soon followed, so that the League spread to the confines of Burgundy and became very powerful. Thus Uri, Schywz, Unterwalden, Lucerne, Zurich, Zug, Glarus, and Berne were united in an offensive and defensive alliance. These are the eight old cantons.
At the time the League had grown so strong, Duke Albrecht the Second ruled in Austria and enjoyed the friendship of the Emperor Charles the Fourth, of the house of Luxemburg. In preparing for a struggle with the League he had strengthened his castles and cities and had assured himself of the loyal service of his vassals. The war, however, was confined to pillaging expeditions and petty encounters which did the League little harm, and at last an unconditional peace was made between the two parties. After Albrecht’s death, his oldest son, Rudolph the Fourth, succeeded. This prince, the first of his house to receive the title of archduke, had the hereditary Hapsburg spirit and strove to the utmost to extend the supremacy of the empire. Notwithstanding the Emperor Charles was his father-in-law, he opposed him by every kind of artifice and continually interfered with his plans. He strengthened himself by alliances with neighboring powers, especially with Basle and other imperial cities, and weakened the Emperor’s power in Italy. By the marriage of his brother Leopold to the daughter of Bernabo Visconti of Milan he secured the adherence of many noble Italian families. He appointed Brun, the Zurich burgomaster, a member of his privy council and thus attached him to his interests. He drove in a wedge between Lake Zurich and Schwyz, by the purchase of territory, and to secure control of the commercial highway from Italy to Germany he built a bridge across the lake upon the pretext of shortening the route for pious pilgrims on their way to retreats. While engaged in these various enterprises the prince died in his twenty-sixth year and was succeeded by his brother Leopold, in 1365.
Leopold, although inclined to mysticism, was of martial spirit and handled the lance at tournaments in a masterly way. Hardly a year of his life had passed without finding him engaged in war. While he had a numerous following of knights and nobles, his devoutness and straightforwardness also commended him to the favor of the people, among whom many stories of his acts of generosity were told, like those reported later about his Uncle Maximilian, “the last of the knights.”
Leopold took such advantage of the quarrels between the petty princes in upper Italy that he soon checked the designs of the powerful republic of Venice. His father-in-law Visconti was of great service to him in this. The predecessors of Visconti had established their power when the Lombardy League was swallowed up in a multitude of petty sovereignties. The masters of Milan at this time, Bernabo and his brother Galeazzo the Second, needing brave soldiers for their wars of conquest, many young men of the mountain country organized into troops which were granted special privileges because of their loyalty to the Viscontis. The two Milan lords were excellent army leaders but tyrannical toward their subjects. At last they became so bold as to take up arms against Pope Gregory the Eleventh, for which they were excommunicated. At the same time the Pope forbade these young mountaineers to render service to them. They recognized the papal authority and most of them returned to their homes.
Among them was Arnold of Winkelried. His home possessions were insignificant. We have already seen that even as a boy he had shown a warlike spirit in numerous ways. He had practised all the feats of arms with indefatigable activity, and had been well instructed in them, but as there were few opportunities for their use at home he had taken service at Milan. He fought for strangers to learn how to fight for his fatherland whenever it should need his help. He had participated in numerous encounters, had been wounded several times, and had won such distinction that he was admitted to knighthood.
In the beginning of the year 1370 Arnold of Winkelried once more stood upon his native soil. He was tall, powerful, and in the very prime of his manhood. He vainly sought for the opportunity to perform active deeds. Peace and quiet prevailed all over the country. His restless spirit was not satisfied with managing the small home affairs. He longed for the tumult of battle and the strenuous life of the soldier, to which he had been accustomed of late. He endured the quiet of Stans for a few weeks only, after which notwithstanding the inclement season of the year he undertook a journey to the larger cities of the League, to see and hear what was going on. It was not mere chance that took him to Zurich. He had been told at Stans that his old-time playmate, Florian Häbli, whom he met as a houseless wanderer at the monastery of Engelberg and had helped to the utmost of his ability, was living with a famous armorer at Zurich. He sought him there to have a talk over old times, and found him in the midst of a crowd of workmen in the same place where we have seen him as Master Hildprand’s apprentice. The meeting was a cordial one. When the old-time fisherman and woodcutter’s son began by addressing Arnold as “sir knight” and “noble sir,” he was firmly bidden to use the familiar “thou.”
As they had much to talk about, the armorer entertained his distinguished visitor in his own house. Florian’s uncle was childless, and as he was comfortably off and wished to live quietly in his old age, he had transferred his prosperous business to his nephew, who was conducting it with like success. In the meantime Florian had gone about the world considerably, and had worked in many a famous city. He had been in Strasburg, where for more than three centuries they had been building a magnificent cathedral, the spire of which was just beginning to rise. He had also stood before a mighty cathedral in Cologne, which was begun a century before, but in late times the work had stopped. In no city, however, had he seen so much activity as at Prague. The Emperor Charles had laid out an entirely new section of the city in which numerous churches and monasteries were going up, and a great stone bridge was built over the Moldau. The finest structure, however, was the training school, the scholars in which were called students. Florian had also worked for a time at Frankfort-on-the-Main, and he could hardly find words to describe the fair which was held there twice a year. It was to this fair that the large cities on the Rhine, from Basle to Cologne, sent their merchandise; and heavily laden vessels brought goods there from France. Fur dealers from the Hanse towns, linen and lace dealers from the cities of Flanders, and goldsmiths from Burgundy met there. England’s steel wares as well as the various products of Wales were exhibited. Every building was packed with people and goods to the roof, great multitudes thronged the streets, and as the city could not accommodate all the strangers, many of them had to live in tents. It was one of the grandest of spectacles. Florian had seen an ostrich and an elephant there for the first time; and one of the numerous pickpockets had made off with his purse. He talked long about his adventures in other cities, but he made no mention of his exciting experiences at the Rebstock, for he still respected his oath. He felt a quiet satisfaction at having saved Zurich, and attributed to it all the blessings which had been so generously bestowed upon him within its walls.
Arnold talked of his war adventures in Italy, and as he came to the end he said: “But now my sword and armor are rusting. I vainly look for any place in the world where war is going on and glory can be found. I am sick of these peaceful times.”
Master Florian significantly placed his forefinger upon his nose. He could give him some information. There was a region in northern Prussia where the clash of arms never ceased. The pagan Prussians were not yet conquered, and there was always plenty of fighting in the adjacent Lithuania. Many a one who had been told this by Florian had been there and had brought back dreadful news about the country and its savage inhabitants.
Arnold was at last satisfied. The greater the danger the greater the glory, especially when gained in fighting for the spread of Christianity. Nothing would suit him better than to go to that northern country. It increased his delight when Florian told him there was an opportunity for him to go with a goodly company. Duke Leopold had arranged an expedition for that very purpose. It was said he had already assembled a thousand knights from Austria, Swabia, and other German countries. They were to meet at Basle, and the Duke was to hold a grand tournament there on Shrove Tuesday, and then leave at once for Marienburg, the castle of the Teutonic Order.
Arnold decided on the instant to join the expedition, but he was also anxious to show his prowess at the tournament, so that he should not be a stranger in this array of famous knights and nobles. But Shrove Tuesday was only a few days off, and as he must return to Stans, the time was too short to allow of his getting to Basle in good season. He explained the situation to Florian, who replied: “If it is your armor that delays you, as I surmise, the journey to Stans is unnecessary. You need armor and a horse. As far as armor and weapons are concerned, I have everything you want and you are welcome to use it; and as far as the horse is concerned, I have a friend here who has several fine ones, which even Duke Leopold himself would not be ashamed to ride. He will let you have one on my security, and all you have to do is to make your choice.”
Arnold cordially shook Florian’s hand and thanked him for his friendly assistance, of which he should certainly avail himself. “But you know, Florian,” he said with a smile, “that horse and armor belong to the knight who unseats his opponent. Supposing I should be the unfortunate one!”
“I am not afraid of that,” said Florian, regarding him with a look of pride. “I know my hero of Pilatus.”
Arnold soon made a choice of armor and weapons from the young master’s large stock. He selected a snow-white battle-horse which combined strength and suppleness of limb with a fiery nature. Thus equipped and well mounted, Arnold rode off one day to Basle, after taking a cordial farewell of Florian.
The free city of Basle is situated upon the Rhine. Great Basle is upon one bank and Little Basle upon the other. On the morning of Shrove Tuesday the city was crowded with a multitude of persons who had come on foot and horse, some to participate in the merry-makings of the city, and others to attend the tournament. The tilting-field was oval in shape, and surrounded by gayly decorated lists. The stands filled gradually. The marshals of the tournament, staves in hand, took their seats with their halberds placed before them. The referees sat below them, and the herald stood in front, clad in glistening mail, adorned with the heraldic symbols.
Suddenly there was a jubilant outburst from the musicians’ gallery as Duke Leopold appeared upon his proudly prancing steed, attended by a brilliant retinue of pages and squires. After he had dismounted, the Duke seated himself under a canopy, with his attendants stationed about him in a circle. He waved a white handkerchief as the signal for the tournament to begin. The gates were opened, and accompanied by strains of music the combatants rode around the lists with lances at rest. Six of them went to six tents at the north end of the arena. There they dismounted, leaving their steeds to the care of servants, and each went to his tent, upon which was suspended his escutcheon. These were the six challenging knights.
At a signal from the trumpet the herald rode to the centre of the arena and proclaimed the regulations so that all might hear. Then there was a sudden commotion at the south end, caused by the rush of knights who were to contest with the challengers. Only six could be chosen, and these were selected by lot. Each one of these touched the escutcheon of the one with whom he was to contend, with his lance, doing it with the blunt end and not the point, which signified that the contest was not a life and death one, but a test of skill and strength on each side.
When the six knights had ridden back and formed in line, the six challengers mounted their steeds and took their places a short distance away from the others. At the sound of the trumpet both parties rushed at each other. The challengers were apparently sure of success. Five of their opponents were unhorsed at the first onset, but the sixth knight kept his saddle. Both his own lance and that of his opponent were shivered at the same time, so that neither was victor. Amid the shouts of the crowd and the din of trumpets the challengers rode back to their tents, and the vanquished ones picked themselves up and disappeared from the arena. The contest was soon resumed. After many others had been defeated there was a pause. It seemed as if no one cared to enter the lists.
Suddenly a trumpet sounded at the southern end of the arena, and the crowd beheld a knight of stately figure riding up to the six tents at the northern end upon a milk-white steed. He halted, and his lance touched an escutcheon which was decorated with a tree and two ravens hovering over it. There was universal astonishment, for the owner of this escutcheon was the most dexterous and powerful of all the challengers. He instantly came from his tent to ascertain who his opponent was. The latter lifted his visor and disclosed the face of Arnold of Winkelried, as the reader probably has anticipated. The other, taking Arnold’s courtesy for an expression of scorn, also lifted his visor and disclosed the stern features of Veit of Mörsperg.
“Your steed pleases me. It looks to me as if it might soon have another stall, and I have one which will suit him, and there is plenty of room in my armor chamber for that mail of yours,” scornfully said Veit, as he gloated over the prizes of the contest, which he was sure were his.
“Many thanks for your warning,” replied Arnold, “but if you expect to secure the prize, I would advise you to take a fresh horse and new lance, for you are sadly in need of both.”
Hardly had the trumpet sounded when the two dashed from their places with lightning speed and met in the centre of the arena with such force that both their lances were shattered and the horses sank upon their haunches, but by the help of bridle and spurs they were soon up again. Fire flashed from Veit’s eyes as he looked at his opponent. Both went back for new lances. They rushed at each other again at the sound of the trumpet. Veit aimed a thrust at Arnold’s head, which would have been dangerous had it succeeded, but Arnold evaded it and thereupon struck Veit’s shield such a powerful blow in the centre that his opponent wavered in the saddle and the lance was shattered. After Arnold had secured another lance the two knights made the third attack. This time the order was reversed. It was now the Mörsperger’s lance which struck Arnold’s shield in the centre. Arnold wavered for a second, for the thrust was so powerful that the splinters flew far and wide; but at the same instant, Arnold with well directed aim had struck Veit’s helmet with such force that he was unhorsed and fell backwards. A cloud of dust hid them while the multitude were enthusiastically hailing the victor. When it cleared away, horse and rider were already up, and Veit, bleeding from a wound in the face, snarled at his conqueror, “We shall meet again.”
“There will be ample opportunity on our way to the North, I hope,” replied Arnold. Veit made no reply. He had no intention of going there, for there was not sufficient plunder among the savages to tempt him. The meeting, however, took place at another time, as we shall see.
Arnold, who had come to Basle with borrowed armor, won not less than five prizes that day. When the tournament was finished he sent back his steed and armor to their owners at Zurich and took for himself only those which he had won from Veit. He declined the rest as well as the money with which by the rules of the tournament the vanquished might redeem their property.
Followed by a brilliant array of fifteen hundred knights and horsemen, among whom was Arnold of Winkelried, Duke Leopold set out from Little Basle to coöperate with the forces of the Teutonic Order in the far North. Moving from eight to ten hours a day, the march being occasionally interrupted by military exercises, the army passed through several small countries, territories of the Church, and free imperial cities, until it reached Marienburg, the seat of the Order.
After the subjugation of the Prussians still worse heathen remained. These were the Lithuanians, who had extended their domain to the Black Sea by repeated conquests from Russia. Their country was flat and covered with marshes, steppes, and sand dunes. In its impenetrable primeval forests, filled with gigantic trees, whose branches closely interlaced, roamed bears and wolves, elks and buffaloes.
It was not the purpose of the Order to subjugate the Lithuanian people, but to restore quiet in the Order’s own territory and protect it from continual ravages by pillaging hordes. A strong boundary wall had been constructed to prevent their incursions, but as this had proved insufficient it was determined they should be attacked in their own country.
The leaders of the Lithuanians at that time were the brothers Kynstutt and Olgjerd. Kynstutt was an enemy not to be despised; his restless energy had long kept the Order busy. The heathen army was between thirty and forty thousand strong, and among them were Russian auxiliaries and excellent archers. The Lithuanians carried heavy battle axes, though their principal weapons were the pike and shield, and they also had many horsemen. Notwithstanding their numbers, they were not the equals of the Order in military skill, whether in siege or field. Kynstutt knew this very well and for that reason would not risk battle in the open. He conducted his pillaging expeditions over as wide an area as possible. At one time he would swiftly and suddenly fall upon the Order’s supply trains and slaughter the guards; at others he would burn castles and seek by every means in his power to prevent the building of new ones. He erected castles himself, and as fast as they were destroyed by the knights he would rebuild them. The three most important of these castles were those of Wielun, Pisten, and Kauen. The last was the most remote and was the strongest, being built of stone.
Winrich of Kniprode, grand master of the Order, was completing his plans for the destruction of this castle, when Duke Leopold of Austria arrived at Marienburg with his brilliant array of knights—a strong and welcome reinforcement. The route of the army took them past both the castles of Wielun and Pisten, which were left unmolested. A landing was effected upon the island of Kauen, and a camp was established in which all the supplies were stored. A bridge of boats was also constructed to the right bank of the Niemen, where the castle stood upon a tongue of land—upon the spot where now stands the city of Kovno.[11] The building of this bridge took three days, and before it was finished Kynstutt appeared with an army for the relief of the castle. He fell back, however, after a brief encounter and occupied the heights on the land side, east of the castle. To prevent him from making a sudden descent upon the camp, a breastwork of stone and wooden stakes was made, stretching in the shape of a bow from the Vilia to the Niemen. The flower of the army was placed in this intrenched camp. Another part was assigned to guard the supplies, and the remainder occupied themselves with the management of the siege machines. Missiles from the castle could not reach far enough to disturb the work, which progressed under the direction of a master smith and carpenter.
The part of the castle called “the house” was built of wood. The fortified part consisted of high, strong walls, constructed in a parallelogram about the house. The garrison was amply provided with means of defence. Waydott, son of Kynstutt, was chief in command, and in his garrison were forty boyars, who were warriors of unusual distinction and wealth. There were also many Russian archers. The garrison in all numbered between four and five thousand men.
After all the preparations were made, an advance was ordered from the two rivers for assault at the main point, where the tumler was already at work. The principal feature of this machine was a huge tree-trunk, a hundred feet in length, suspended by chains. It was drawn back by hand and then propelled against the wall with terrific force. At the head of it was a sickle-shaped iron, for tearing away dislodged stones. As the tumler could only be used in the immediate vicinity of the enemy, its operators were protected by a low building called “the cat.” It had strong sides and a roof to which the chains were attached. The whole rested upon wooden block wheels by which it could be pushed up to the walls.
An assault was directed against a tower by the outer gate. Its defenders were by no means inactive. They hurled huge rocks from the wall upon the roof of “the cat,” and tried to tear it to pieces with long, hooked poles. They also poured burning pitch upon it, but as the roof was covered with wet, undressed skins, it resisted the fire. At last the outer gate tower gave way before the continuous concussion and fell in a mass of ruins.
Following up this first success, the besiegers prepared for an attack upon the wall itself. For this purpose the helepolis was employed. This machine was also called the ebenhöhe because it had to be of even height with the wall. The colossus was made of stout beams and rested upon a base forty feet square. It consisted of three stories. The first was occupied by the men who moved the machine forward on rollers. The second was arranged as a drawbridge, which could be connected with the wall when needed. The uppermost was for use by soldiers, who by means of the drawbridge might drive the enemy from the wall. Like the tumler, the helepolis was protected from fire by wet skins.
One of these formidable machines was employed on both sides against the castle. At one side, the garrison fired burning pitch-besmeared arrows upon the monster, and tried to prevent the use of the drawbridge with long poles; but a whole section of wall upon which they were standing gave way, and they were buried in the ruins. Some of the besiegers also were killed.
In the meantime Olgjerd arrived with a force of boyars and stationed them along the Vilia, his brother Kynstutt still occupying the heights. The latter had an interview with the Grand Master by arrangement. He hoped to intimidate him by threatening to join Olgjerd, and boasted that he could annihilate his army. The Grand Master offered him battle, but Kynstutt only pointed contemptuously to the well-fortified camp of the Christians. He then offered to level the breastworks, but Kynstutt made no reply to him.
At last the Christians advanced for general assault, intending to take advantage of the numerous breaches in the wall. The Lithuanians, however, had erected strong barricades behind them, and the archers sent such a deadly shower of arrows into their ranks that they met with serious losses and had to fall back.
It was already the fourteenth day of the siege. The tumler was kept steadily at work making breaches in the walls, but the garrison as steadily erected new barricades. The helepolis was moved up to one of these breaches. The garrison greeted it with fiery arrows and hurled burning bunches of fagots upon it. The wet skins this time were of no avail. The flames mounted high, but while the occupants were seeking to make their escape the two managers of the machine seized the burning bunches, one by one, with hooks, and hurled them back, which fired the garrison’s barricades and destroyed them before they could extinguish the flames. The burning machine was replaced by another. The attack upon it had just commenced when the wall suddenly began to waver. Those upon it had barely time to escape when it fell. The troops raised a triumphant shout and could not be prevented from rushing through the wide breach. The Grand Master ordered them back, but it was too late, and the passion of battle, which had become all the more furious as the news of this fresh success spread, could not be curbed. In an army composed of various nationalities each wanted the honor of being first to lead the way. The English contingent claimed it because they carried the standard of Saint George, but in all their wars with the heathen the Germans carried it also; and as Duke Leopold of Austria was the most distinguished among the latter, the Grand Master assigned the leadership to him. As the Duke raised the sacred symbol, the gate which led out of the castle to the Vilia was suddenly opened, and a part of the garrison made a bold rush with the intention of cutting their way through. Leopold and his knights hurled themselves upon the desperate enemy. Arnold of Winkelried was one of the first to follow him. While engaged in a fearful hand to hand contest, Arnold noticed a Lithuanian furiously aiming a blow with his battle axe at the helmet of the princely standard-bearer. With lightning swiftness he swung his sword and clove the heathen’s skull.
The Lithuanians were forced back and the massacre began. The infuriated heathen set fire to great piles of fagots smeared with pitch; the flames spread to the interior of the castle, and many Christians as well as heathen were burned to death. Blinded with rage, the combatants strove with each other in the fire and smoke, man with man. The Lithuanian pikes had little effect upon the mail of the knights, who swept everything before them with their swords, but battle axes found their way through the mail and many a fallen heathen was avenged. Mercilessly steel clashed against steel. Terrible scenes were enacted, but at last the banner of Saint George flew from the turret of the castle, announcing the victory of the Christians. Kynstutt and Olgjerd witnessed the assault from the neighboring heights, but made no effort to come to the help of the garrison; for during the battle a considerable force of the Grand Master’s army was held in reserve to give the two brothers a hot reception if they advanced.
The Christian army celebrated its victory by singing the hymn, “Christ is Arisen,” and closed with the chorale, “Let us all be joyous for the heathen have been punished.” On the next day it was already Easter, and high mass was celebrated, at which the Bishop of Samland officiated. About two hundred Christians, among them seven brethren of the Order, were killed during the siege. Many a one of Leopold’s army never returned home, but was buried in unconsecrated heathen soil. The Lithuanians lost two thousand men, some of whom were burned in the castle fire. The rest were taken prisoners, except Waydot, Kynstutt’s son, who made his escape with thirty-six boyars. He embraced Christianity later and received the baptismal name of Henry, after which he went to the palace of the Emperor Charles the Fourth at Prague, where he was very kindly received, and remained many years. Before the army left Kauen the castle was completely demolished.
Duke Leopold wishing to thank the knight who had saved him from the axe of the murderous heathen, summoned all his men and requested the unknown knight to declare himself, but Arnold of Winkelried, caring little for princely favor, paid no attention to the Duke’s request. He had saved the Duke’s life, little dreaming that he himself would die a heroic death fighting against him at a later time. The Duke returned to his home filled with proud satisfaction at the victory, and Arnold was no less satisfied. The song of victory, “Let us all be joyous,” continually rang in his ears. He often recalled Father Vincentius’s advice that man should devote the inestimable boon of life to good works as an offering to God. Since his own life had been preserved amid these terrible scenes by the divine goodness, he resolved to devote it henceforth to the service of humanity and the fatherland. Mail and sword might rust, but his purpose should be maintained; and when the fatherland needed him he would again seize his arms to fight in the ranks of the people, not as a murderous knight, but as a plain, dutiful citizen.
After Arnold’s return to his native Stans he spent his days in managing his little property. Soon he married a gentle, lovely woman, who brought joy into his life and relieved his anxieties. In the course of the years beautiful children came to them; and the aforetime restless warrior found his greatest happiness in peaceful family life.
The Emperor Charles the Fourth died in the year 1378 and was succeeded by his son Wenzel. Duke Leopold was made governor of Upper and Lower Swabia, which gave him great power among the nobles and the cities. The relations between the latter meanwhile had grown more and more strained. The attendants of the knights flocked to the cities in ever increasing numbers and were cordially welcomed. As their privileges continued to diminish, the knights organized against the cities, and Duke Leopold encouraged them in their action.
The Duke knew that the nobles were on his side to a man. He regarded it therefore as a favorable time to break up the League and restore the old authority of Austria. The warning voices of some well-meaning counsellors were stifled by the embittered nobles of Aargau and Thurgau and those aggrieved knights who had suffered so much at the hands of the League.