Aslauga\'s Knight
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Fredrich de la Motte Fouque >> Aslauga\'s Knight
Aslauga's Knight
by Fredrich de la Motte-Fouque
CHAPTER I.
Many years ago there lived in the island of Fuhnen a noble
knight, called Froda, the friend of the Skalds, who was so
named because he not only offered free hospitality in his fair
castle to every renowned and noble bard, but likewise strove
with all his might to discover those ancient songs, and tales,
and legends which, in Runic writings or elsewhere, were still
to be found; he had even made some voyages to Iceland in
search of them, and had fought many a hard battle with the
pirates of those seas--for he was also a right valiant knight,
and he followed his great ancestors not only in their love of
song, but also in their bold deeds of arms. Although he was
still scarcely beyond the prime of youth, yet all the other
nobles in the island willingly submitted themselves to him,
whether in council or in war; nay, his renown had even been
carried ere now over the sea to the neighbouring land of
Germany.
One bright autumn evening this honour-loving knight sat before
his castle, as he was often wont to do, that he might look far
and wide over land and sea, and that he might invite any
travellers who were passing by, as was his custom, to share in
his noble hospitality.
But on this day he saw little of all that he was accustomed to
look upon; for on his knees there lay an ancient book with
skilfully and richly painted characters, which a learned
Icelander had just sent to him across the sea: it was the
history of Aslauga, the fair daughter of Sigurd, who at first,
concealing her high birth, kept goats among the simple
peasants of the land, clothed in mean attire; then, in the
golden veil of her flowing hair, won the love of King Ragnar
Lodbrog; and at last shone brightly on the Danish throne as
his glorious queen, till the day of her death.
To the Knight Froda it seemed as though the gracious Lady
Aslauga rose in life and birth before him, so that his calm
and steadfast heart, true indeed to ladies' service, but never
yet devoted to one particular female image, burst forth in a
clear flame of love for the fair daughter of Sigurd. "What
matters it," thought he to himself, "that it is more than a
hundred years since she disappeared from earth? She sees so
clearly into this heart of mine--and what more can a knight
desire? wherefore she shall henceforth be my honoured love,
and shall inspire me in battle and in song." And therewith he
sang a lay on his new love, which ran in the following manner:
"They ride over hill and dale apace
To seek for their love the fairest face--
They search through city and forest-glade
To find for their love the gentlest maid--
They climb wherever a path may lead
To seek the wisest dame for their meed.
Ride on, ye knights: but ye never may see
What the light of song has shown to me:
Loveliest, gentlest, and wisest of all,
Bold be the deeds that her name shall recall;
What though she ne'er bless my earthly sight?
Yet death shall reveal her countenance bright.
Fair world, good night! Good day, sweet love!
Who seeks here in faith shall find above."
"Such purpose may come to good," said a hollow voice near the
knight; and when he looked round, he saw the form of a poor
peasant woman, so closely wrapped in a grey mantle that he
could not discern any part of her countenance. She looked
over his shoulder on the book, and said, with a deep sigh,
"I know that story well; and it fares no better with me than
with the princess of whom it tells." Froda looked at her with
astonishment. "Yes, yes," pursued she, with strange becks and
nods; "I am the descendant of the mighty Rolf, to whom the
fairest castles and forests and fields of this island once
belonged; your castle and your domains, Froda, amongst others,
were his. We are now cast down to poverty; and because I am
not so fair as Aslauga there is no hope that my possessions
will be restored to me; and therefore I am fain to veil my
poor face from every eye." It seemed that she shed warm tears
beneath her mantle. At this Froda was greatly moved, and
begged her, for God's sake, to let him know how he could help
her, for that he was a descendant of the famous northern
heroes of the olden time; and perhaps yet something more than
they--namely, a good Christian. "I almost think," murmured
she from beneath her covering, "that you are that very Froda
whom men call the Good, and the friend of the Skalds, and of
whose generosity and mildness such wonderful stories are told.
If it be so, there may be help for me. You need only give up
to me the half of your fields and meadows, and I should be in
a condition to live in some measure such a life as befits the
descendant of the mighty Rolf." Then Froda looked
thoughtfully on the ground; partly because she had asked for
so very much; partly, also, because he was considering whether
she could really be descended from the powerful Rolf. But the
veiled form said, after a pause, "I must have been mistaken,
and you are not indeed that renowned, gentle-hearted Froda:
for how could be have doubted so long about such a trifle?
But I will try the utmost means. See now! for the sake of the
fair Aslauga, of whom you have both read and sang--for the
sake of the honoured daughter of Sigurd, grant my request!"
Then Froda started up eagerly, and cried, "Let it be as you
have said!" and gave her his knightly hand to confirm his
words. But he could not grasp the hand of the peasant-woman,
although her dark form remained close before him. A secret
shudder began to run through his limbs, whilst suddenly a
light seemed to shine forth from the apparition--a golden
light--in which she became wholly wrapped; so that he felt as
though Aslauga stood before him in the flowing veil of her
golden hair, and smiling graciously on him. Transported and
dazzled, he sank on his knees. When he rose up once more he
only saw a cloudy mist of autumn spreading over the meadow,
fringed at its edges with lingering evening lights, and then
vanishing far over the waves. The knight scarcely knew what
had happened to him. He returned to his chamber buried in
thought, and sometimes feeling sure that he had beheld
Aslauga, sometimes, again, that some goblin had risen before
him with deceitful tricks, mocking in spiteful wise the
service which he had vowed to his dead mistress. But
henceforth, wherever he roved, over valley or forest or heath,
or whether he sailed upon the waves of the sea, the like
appearances met him. Once he found a lute lying in a wood,
and drove a wolf away from it, and when sounds burst from the
lute without its being touched a fair child rose up from it,
as of old Aslauga herself had done. At another time he would
see goats clambering among the highest cliffs by the sea-
shore, and it was a golden form who tended them. Then, again,
a bright queen, resplendent in a dazzling bark, would seem to
glide past him, and salute him graciously,--and if he strove
to approach any of those he found nothing but cloud, and mist,
and vapour. Of all this many a lay might be sung. But so
much he learnt from them all--that the fair Lady Aslauga
accepted his service, and that he was now indeed and in truth
become her knight.
Meanwhile the winter had come and gone. In northern lands
this season never fails to bring to those who understand and
love it many an image full of beauty and meaning, with which
a child of man might well be satisfied, so far as earthly
happiness can satisfy, through all his time on earth. But
when the spring came glancing forth with its opening buds and
flowing waters there came also bright and sunny tidings from
the land of Germany to Fuhnen.
There stood on the rich banks of the Maine, where it pours
its waters through the fertile land of Franconia, a castle
of almost royal magnificence, whose orphan-mistress was a
relation of the German emperor. She was named Hildegardis;
and was acknowledged far and wide as the fairest of maidens.
Therefore her imperial uncle wished that she should wed none
but the bravest knight who could anywhere be met with.
Accordingly he followed the example of many a noble lord in
such a case, and proclaimed a tournament, at which the chief
prize should be the hand of the peerless Hildegardis, unless
the victor already bore in his heart a lady wedded or
betrothed to him; for the lists were not to be closed to any
brave warrior of equal birth, that the contest of strength and
courage might be so much the richer in competitors.
Now the renowned Froda had tidings of this from his German
brethren-in-arms; and he prepared himself to appear at the
festival. Before all things, he forged for himself a splendid
suit of armour; as, indeed, he was the most excellent armourer
of the north, far-famed as it is for skill in that art. He
worked the helmet out of pure gold, and formed it so that it
seemed to be covered with bright flowing locks, which called
to mind Aslauga's tresses. He also fashioned, on the
breastplate of his armour, overlaid with silver, a golden
image in half relief, which represented Aslauga in her veil of
flowing locks, that he might make known, even at the beginning
of the tournament--"This knight, bearing the image of a lady
upon his breast, fights not for the hand of the beautiful
Hildegardis, but only for the joy of battle and for knightly
fame." Then he took out of his stables a beautiful Danish
steed, embarked it carefully on board a vessel, and sailed
prosperously to the opposite shore.
CHAPTER II.
In one of those fair beech-woods which abound in the fertile
land of Germany he fell in with a young and courteous knight
of delicate form, who asked the noble northman to share the
meal which he had invitingly spread out upon the greensward,
under the shade of the pleasantest boughs. Whilst the two
knights sat peacefully together at their repast they felt
drawn towards each other and rejoiced when on rising from it,
they observed that they were about to follow the same road.
They had not come to this good understanding by means of many
words; for the young knight Edwald was of a silent nature, and
would sit for hours with a quiet smile upon his lips without
opening them to speak. But even in that quiet smile there lay
a gentle, winning grace; and when from time to time a few
simple words of deep meaning sprang to his lips they seemed
like a gift deserving of thanks. It was the same with the
little songs which he sang ever and anon: they were ended
almost as soon as begun; but in each short couplet there dwelt
a deep and winning spirit, whether it called forth a kindly
sigh or a peaceful smile. It seemed to the noble Froda as if
a younger brother rode beside him, or even a tender, blooming
son. They travelled thus many days together; and it appeared
as if their path were marked out for them in inseparable
union; and much as they rejoiced at this, yet they looked
sadly at each other whenever they set out afresh, or where
cross-roads met, on finding that neither took a different
direction: nay, it seemed at times as if a tear gathered in
Edwald's downcast eye.
It happened on a time, that at their hostelry they met an
arrogant, overbearing knight, of gigantic stature and powerful
frame, whose speech and carriage proved him to be not of
German but foreign birth. He appeared to come from the land
of Bohemia. He cast a contemptuous smile on Froda, who, as
usual, had opened the ancient book of Aslauga's history, and
was attentively reading in it. "You must be a ghostly
knight?" he said, inquiringly; and it appeared as if a whole
train of unseemly jests were ready to follow. But Froda
answered so firmly and seriously with a negative that the
Bohemian stopped short suddenly; as when the beasts, after
venturing to mock their king, the lion, are subdued to
quietness by one glance of his eye. But not so easily was the
Bohemian knight subdued; rather the more did he begin to mock
young Edwald for his delicate form and for his silence--all
which he bore for some time with great patience; but when at
last the stranger used an unbecoming phrase, he arose, girded
on his sword, and bowing gracefully, he said, "I thank you,
Sir Knight, that you have given me this opportunity of proving
that I am neither a slothful nor unpractised knight; for only
thus can your behaviour be excused, which otherwise must be
deemed most unmannerly. Are you ready?"
With these words he moved towards the door; the Bohemian
knight followed, smiling scornfully; while Froda was full of
care for his young and slender companion, although his honour
was so dear to him that he could in no way interpose.
But it soon appeared how needless were the northman's fears.
With equal vigour and address did Edwald assault his gigantic
adversary, so that to look upon, it was almost like one of
those combats between a knight and some monster of the forest,
of which ancient legends tell. The issue, too, was not
unlike. While the Bohemian was collecting himself for a
decisive stroke Edwald rushed in upon him, and, with the force
of a wrestler, cast him to the ground. But he spared his
conquered foe, helped him courteously to rise, and then turned
to mount his own steed. Soon after he and Froda left the
hostelry, and once more their journey led them on the same
path as before.
"From henceforth this gives me pleasure," said Froda, pointing
with satisfaction to their common road. "I must own to you,
Edchen"--he had accustomed himself, in loving confidence, to
call his young friend by that childlike name--"I must own to
you that hitherto, when I have thought that you might perhaps
be journeying with me to the tournament held in honour of the
fair Hildegardis, a heaviness came over my heart. Your noble
knightly spirit I well knew, but I feared lest the strength of
your slender limbs might not be equal to it. Now I have
learned to know you as a warrior who may long seek his match;
and God be praised if we still hold on in the same path, and
welcome our earliest meeting in the lists!"
But Edwald looked at him sorrowfully, and said, "What can my
skill and strength avail if they be tried against you, and for
the greatest earthly prize, which one of us alone can win?
Alas! I have long foreboded with a heavy heart the sad truth,
that you also are journeying to the tournament of the fair
Hildegardis."
"Edchen," answered Froda, with a smile, "my gentle, loving
youth, see you not that I already wear on my breastplate the
image of a liege lady? I strive but for renown in arms, and
not for your fair Hildegardis!"
"MY fair Hildegardis!" answered Edwald, with a sigh. "That
she is not, nor ever will be--or should she, ah! Froda, it
would pierce your heart. I know well the northland faith
is deep-rooted as your rocks, and hard to dissolve as their
summits of snow; but let no man think that he can look
unscathed into the eyes of Hildegardis. Has not she, the
haughty, the too haughty maiden, so bewitched my tranquil,
lowly mind, that I forget the gulf which lies between us, and
still pursue her; and would rather perish than renounce the
daring hope to win that eagle spirit for my own?"
"I will help you to it, Edchen," answered Froda, smiling
still. "Would that I knew how this all-conquering lady looks!
She must resemble the Valkyrien of our heathen forefathers,
since so many mighty warriors are overcome by her."
Edwald solemnly drew forth a picture from beneath his
breastplate, and held it before him. Fixed, and as if
enchanted, Froda gazed upon it, with glowing cheeks and
sparkling eyes; the smile passed away from his countenance,
as the sunlight fades away from the meadows before the coming
darkness of the storm.
"See you not now, my noble comrade," whispered Edwald, "that
for one of us two, or perhaps for both, the joy of life is
gone?"
"Not yet," replied Froda, with a powerful effort; "but hide
your magic picture, and let us rest beneath this shade. You
must be somewhat spent with your late encounter, and a strange
weariness oppresses me with leaden weight." They dismounted
from their steeds, and stretched themselves upon the ground.
The noble Froda had no thought of sleep; but he wished to be
undisturbed whilst he wrestled strongly with himself, and
strove, if it might be, to drive from his mind that image of
fearful beauty. It seemed as if this new influence had
already become a part of his very life, and at last a restless
dreamy sleep did indeed overshadow the exhausted warrior. He
fancied himself engaged in combat with many knights, whilst
Hildegardis looked on smiling from a richly-adorned balcony;
and just as he thought he had gained the victory the bleeding
Edwald lay groaning beneath his horse's feet. Then again it
seemed as if Hildegardis stood by his side in a church, and
they were about to receive the marriage-blessing. He knew
well that this was not right, and the "yes," which he was to
utter, he pressed back with resolute effort into his heart,
and forthwith his eyes were moistened with burning tears.
>From yet stranger and more bewildering visions the voice of
Edwald at last awoke him. He raised himself up, and heard his
young companion saying courteously, as he looked towards a
neighbouring thicket, "Only return, noble maiden; I will
surely help you if I can; and I had no wish to scare you away,
but that the slumbers of my brother in arms might not be
disturbed by you." A golden gleam shone through the branches
as it vanished.
"For heaven's sake", my faithful comrade," cried Froda, "to
whom are you speaking, and who has been here by me?"
"I cannot myself rightly understand," said Edwald. "Hardly
had you dropped asleep when a figure came forth from the
forest, closely wrapped in a dark mantle. At first I took her
for a peasant. She seated herself at your head; and though I
could see nothing of her countenance, I could well observe
that she was sorely troubled, and even shedding tears. I made
signs to her to depart, lest she should disturb your sleep;
and would have offered her a piece of gold, supposing that
poverty must be the cause of her deep distress. But my hand
seemed powerless, and a shudder passed through me, as if I had
entertained such a purpose towards a queen. Immediately
glittering locks of gold waved here and there between the
folds of her close-wrapped mantle, and the thicket began
almost to shine in the light which they shed. 'Poor youth,'
said she then, 'you love truly, and can well understand how
a lofty woman's heart burns in keenest sorrow when a noble
knight, who vowed himself to be her own, withdraws his heart,
and, like a weak bondman, is led away to meaner hopes.'
Hereupon she arose, and, sighing, disappeared in yonder
thicket. It almost seemed to me, Froda, as though she uttered
your name."
"Yes, it was me she named," answered Froda; "and not in vain
she named me. Aslauga, thy knight comes, and enters the
lists, and all for thee and thy reward alone! At the same
time, my Edchen, we will win for you your haughty bride."
With this he sprang upon his steed, full of the proud joy of
former times; and when the magic of Hildegardis' beauty,
dazzling and bewildering, would rise up before him, he said,
smiling, "Aslauga!" and the sun of his inner life shone forth
again cloudless and serene.
CHAPTER III.
>From a balcony of her castle on the Maine Hildegardis was wont
to refresh herself in the cool of the evening by gazing on the
rich landscape below, but gazing more eagerly on the glitter
of arms, which often came in sight from many a distant road;
for knights were approaching singly, or with a train of
followers, all eager to prove their courage and their strength
in striving for the high prize of the tournament. She was in
truth a proud and high-minded maiden--perhaps more so than
became even her dazzling beauty and her princely rank. As she
now gazed with a proud smile on the glittering roads a damsel
of her train began the following lay:--
"The joyous song of birds in spring
Upon the wing
Doth echo far through wood and dell,
And freely tell
Their treasures sweet of love and mirth,
Too gladsome for this lowly earth.
"The gentle breath of flowers in May,
O'er meadows gay,
Doth fill the pure and balmy air
With perfume rare;
Still floating round each slender form,
Though scorched by sun, or torn by storm.
"But every high and glorious aim,
And the pure flame
That deep abiding in my heart
Can ne'er depart,
Too lofty for my falt'ring tongue,
Must die with me, unknown, unsung."
"Wherefore do you sing that song, and at this moment?" said
Hildegardis, striving to appear scornful and proud, though a
deep and secret sadness was plainly enough seen to overshadow
her countenance. "It came into my head unawares," replied the
damsel, "as I looked upon the road by which the gentle Edwald
with his pleasant lays first approached us; for it was from
him I learnt it. But seems it not to you, my gracious lady,
and to you too, my companions, as if Edwald himself were again
riding that way towards the castle?" "Dreamer!" said
Hildegardis, scornfully--and yet could not for some space
withdraw her eyes from the knight, till at length, with an
effort, she turned them on Froda, who rode beside him, saying:
"Yes, truly, that knight is Edwald; but what can you find to
notice in the meek-spirited, silent boy? Here, fix your eyes,
my maidens, on this majestic figure, if you would behold a
knight indeed." She was silent. A voice within her, as
though of prophecy, said, "Now the victor of the tournament
rides into the courtyard;" and she, who had never feared the
presence of any human being, now felt humbled, and almost
painfully awed, when she beheld the northern knight.
At the evening meal the two newly-arrived knights were placed
opposite to the royal Hildegardis. As Froda, after the
northern fashion, remained in full armour, the golden image of
Aslauga gleamed from his silver breast-plate full before the
eyes of the haughty lady. She smiled scornfully, as if
conscious that it depended on her will to drive that image
from the breast and from the heart of the stranger-knight.
Then suddenly a clear golden light passed through the hall,
so that Hildegardis said, "0, the keen lightning!" and covered
her eyes with both her hands. But Froda looked into the
dazzling radiance with a joyful gaze of welcome. At this
Hildegardis feared him yet more, though at the same time she
thought, "This loftiest and most mysterious of men must be
born for me alone." Yet could she not forbear, almost against
her will, to look from time to time in friendly tenderness on
the poor Edwald, who sat there silent, and with a sweet smile
seemed to pity and to mock his own suffering and his own vain
hopes.
"When the two knights were alone in their sleeping-chamber
Edwald looked for a long time in silence into the dewy, balmy
night. Then he sang to his lute:
"A hero wise and brave,
A lowly, tender youth,
Are wandering through the land
In steadfast love and truth.
"The hero, by his deeds,
Both bliss and fame had won,
And still, with heartfelt joy,
The faithful child looked on."
But Froda took the lute from his hands, and said, "No, Edchen,
I will teach you another song; listen!--
"'There's a gleam in the hall, and like morning's light
Hath shone upon all her presence bright.
Suitors watch as she passes by--
She may gladden their hearts by one glance of her eye:
But coldly she gazeth upon the throng,
And they that have sought her may seek her long.
She turns her away from the richly clad knight,
She heeds not the words of the learned wight;
The prince is before her in all his pride,
But other the visions around her that glide.
Then tell me, in all the wide world's space,
Who may e'er win that lady's grace?
In sorrowful love there sits apart
The gentle squire who hath her heart;
They all are deceived by fancies vain,
And he knows it not who the prize shall gain.'"
Edwald thrilled. "As God wills," said he, softly to himself.
"But I cannot understand how such a thing could be." "As God
wills," repeated Froda. The two friends embraced each other,
and soon after fell into a peaceful slumber.
Some days afterwards Froda sat in a secluded bower of the
castle garden, and was reading in the ancient book of his
lovely mistress Aslauga. It happened at that very time that
Hildegardis passed by. She stood still, and said,
thoughtfully, "Strange union that you are of knight and sage,
how comes it that you bring forth so little out of the deep
treasures of your knowledge? And yet I think you must have
many a choice history at your command, even such as that which
now lies open before you; for I see rich and bright pictures
of knights and ladies painted amongst the letters."