Anne of Geierstein; Or, The Maiden of the Mist. Volume 1 (of 2) Read online

  CHAPTER IV.

  And now the well-known bow the master bore, Turn'd on all sides, and view'd it o'er and o'er; Whilst some deriding, "How he turns the bow! Some other like it sure the man must know: Or else would copy--or in bows he deals; Perhaps he makes them, or perhaps he steals." POPE'S _Homer's Odyssey_.

  The fair maiden approached with the half-bashful half-important lookwhich sits so well on a young housekeeper, when she is at once proudand ashamed of the matronly duties she is called upon to discharge,and whispered something in her uncle's ear.

  "And could not the idle-pated boys have brought their own errand--whatis it they want that they cannot ask themselves, but must send thee tobeg it for them? Had it been anything reasonable, I should have heardit dinned into my ears by forty voices, so modest are our Swiss youthsbecome nowadays." She stooped forward, and again whispered in his ear,as he fondly stroked her curling tresses with his ample hand, andreplied, "The bow of Buttisholz, my dear? Why, the youths surely arenot grown stronger since last year, when none of them could bend it?But yonder it hangs with its three arrows. Who is the wise championthat is challenger at a game where he is sure to be foiled?"

  "It is this gentleman's son, sir," said the maiden, "who, not beingable to contend with my cousins in running, leaping, hurling the bar,or pitching the stone, has challenged them to ride, or to shoot withthe English long-bow."

  "To ride," said the venerable Swiss, "were difficult where there areno horses, and no level ground to career upon if there were. But anEnglish bow he shall have, since we happen to possess one. Take it tothe young men, my niece, with the three arrows, and say to them fromme, that he who bends it will do more than William Tell, or therenowned Stauffacher, could have done."

  As the maiden went to take the weapon from the place where it hungamid the group of arms which Philipson had formerly remarked, theEnglish merchant observed, "that were the minstrels of his land toassign her occupation, so fair a maiden should be bow-bearer to nonebut the little blind god Cupid."

  "I will have nothing of the blind god Cupid," said Arnold, hastily,yet half laughing at the same time; "we have been deafened with thefoolery of minstrels and strolling minnesingers, ever since thewandering knaves have found there were pence to be gathered among us.A Swiss maiden should only sing Albert Ischudi's ballads, or the merrylay of the going out and return of the cows to and from the mountainpastures."

  While he spoke, the damsel had selected from the arms a bow ofextraordinary strength, considerably above six feet in length, withthree shafts of a cloth-yard long. Philipson asked to look at theweapons, and examined them closely. "It is a tough piece of yew," hesaid. "I should know it, since I have dealt in such commodities in mytime; but when I was of Arthur's age, I could have bent it as easilyas a boy bends a willow."

  "We are too old to boast like boys," said Arnold Biederman, withsomething of a reproving glance at his companion. "Carry the bow tothy kinsmen, Anne, and let him who can bend it say he beat ArnoldBiederman." As he spoke, he turned his eyes on the spare yet muscularfigure of the Englishman, then again glanced down on his own statelyperson.

  "You must remember, good my host," said Philipson, "that weapons arewielded not by strength, but by art and sleight of hand. What most Iwonder at, is to see in this place a bow made by Matthew of Doncaster,a bowyer who lived at least a hundred years ago, remarkable for thegreat toughness and strength of the weapons which he made, and whichare now become somewhat unmanageable, even by an English yeoman."

  "How are you assured of the maker's name, worthy guest?" replied theSwiss.

  "By old Matthew's mark," answered the Englishman, "and his initialscut upon the bow. I wonder not a little to find such a weapon here,and in such good preservation."

  "It has been regularly waxed, oiled, and kept in good order," said theLandamman, "being preserved as a trophy of a memorable day. It wouldbut grieve you to recount its early history, since it was taken in aday fatal to your country."

  "My country," said the Englishman, composedly, "has gained so manyvictories, that her children may well afford to hear of a singledefeat. But I knew not that the English ever warred in Switzerland."

  "Not precisely as a nation," answered Biederman; "but it was in mygrandsire's days, that a large body of roving soldiers, composed ofmen from almost all countries, but especially Englishmen, Normans, andGascons, poured down on the Argau, and the districts adjacent. Theywere headed by a great warrior called Ingelram de Couci, who pretendedsome claims upon the Duke of Austria; to satisfy which, he ravagedindifferently the Austrian territory and that of our Confederacy. Hissoldiers were hired warriors--Free Companions they calledthemselves--that seemed to belong to no country, and were as brave inthe fight as they were cruel in their depredations. Some pause in theconstant wars betwixt France and England had deprived many of thosebands of their ordinary employment, and battle being their element,they came to seek it among our valleys. The air seemed on fire withthe blaze of their armour, and the very sun was darkened at the flightof their arrows. They did us much evil, and we sustained the loss ofmore than one battle. But we met them at Buttisholz, and mingled theblood of many a rider (noble, as they were called and esteemed) withthat of their horses. The huge mound that covers the bones of man andsteed is still called the English barrow."

  Philipson was silent for a minute or two, and then replied, "Then letthem sleep in peace. If they did wrong, they paid for it with theirlives; and that is all the ransom that mortal man can render for histransgressions.--Heaven pardon their souls!"

  "Amen," replied the Landamman, "and those of all brave men!--Mygrandsire was at the battle, and was held to have demeaned himselflike a good soldier; and this bow has been ever since carefullypreserved in our family. There is a prophecy about it, but I hold itnot worthy of remark."

  Philipson was about to inquire further, but was interrupted by a loudcry of surprise and astonishment from without.

  "I must out," said Biederman, "and see what these wild lads are doing.It is not now as formerly in this land, when the young dared not judgefor themselves, till the old man's voice had been heard."

  He went forth from the lodge, followed by his guest. The company whohad witnessed the games were all talking, shouting, and disputing inthe same breath; while Arthur Philipson stood a little apart from therest, leaning on the unbent bow with apparent indifference. At thesight of the Landamman all were silent.

  "What means this unwonted clamour?" he said, raising a voice to whichall were accustomed to listen with reverence.--"Rudiger," addressingthe eldest of his sons, "has the young stranger bent the bow?"

  "He has, father," said Rudiger; "and he has hit the mark. Three suchshots were never shot by William Tell."

  "It was chance--pure chance," said the young Swiss from Berne. "Nohuman skill could have done it, much less a puny lad, baffled in allbesides that he attempted among us."

  "But what _has_ been done?" said the Landamman.--"Nay, speak not allat once!--Anne of Geierstein, thou hast more sense and breeding thanthese boys--tell me how the game has gone."

  The maiden seemed a little confused at this appeal, but answered witha composed and downcast look--

  "The mark was, as usual, a pigeon to a pole. All the young men, exceptthe stranger, had practised at it with the cross-bow and long-bow,without hitting it. When I brought out the bow of Buttisholz, Ioffered it first to my kinsmen. None would accept of it, saying,respected uncle, that a task too great for you must be far toodifficult for them."

  "They said well," answered Arnold Biederman; "and the stranger, did hestring the bow?"

  "He did, my uncle, but first he wrote something on a piece of paper,and placed it in my hands."

  "And did he shoot and hit the mark?" continued the surprised Switzer.

  "He first," said the maiden, "removed the pole a hundred yards fartherthan the post where it stood."

  "Singular!" said the Landamman, "that is double the usual distance." />
  "He then drew the bow," continued the maiden, "and shot off, one afteranother, with incredible rapidity, the three arrows which he had stuckinto his belt. The first cleft the pole, the second cut the string,the third killed the poor bird as it rose into the air."

  "By St. Mary of Einsiedlen," said the old man, looking up in amaze,"if your eyes really saw this, they saw such archery as was neverbefore witnessed in the Forest States!"

  "I say nay to that, my revered kinsman," replied Rudolph Donnerhugel,whose vexation was apparent; "it was mere chance, if not illusion orwitchery."

  "What say'st thou of it thyself, Arthur," said his father, halfsmiling. "Was thy success by chance or skill?"

  "My father," said the young man, "I need not tell you that I have donebut an ordinary feat for an English bowman. Nor do I speak to gratifythat misproud and ignorant young man. But to our worthy host and hisfamily, I make answer. This youth charges me with having deluded men'seyes, or hit the mark by chance. For illusion, yonder is the piercedpole, the severed string, and the slain bird, they will endure sightand handling; and, besides, if that fair maiden will open the notewhich I put into her hand, she will find evidence to assure you, thateven before I drew the bow, I had fixed upon the three marks which Idesigned to aim at."

  "Produce the scroll, good niece," said her uncle, "and end thecontroversy."

  "Nay, under your favour, my worthy host," said Arthur, "it is but somefoolish rhymes addressed to the maiden's own eye."

  "And under your favour, sir," said the Landamman, "whatsoever is fitfor my niece's eyes may greet my ears."

  He took the scroll from the maiden, who blushed deeply when sheresigned it. The character in which it was written was so fine thatthe Landamman in surprise exclaimed, "No clerk of St. Gall could havewritten more fairly.--Strange," he again repeated, "that a hand whichcould draw so true a bow, should have the cunning to form charactersso fair." He then exclaimed anew, "Ha! verses, by Our Lady! What, havewe minstrels disguised as traders?" He then opened the scroll, andread the following lines:--

  If I hit mast, and line, and bird, An English archer keeps his word. Ah! maiden, didst thou aim at me, A single glance were worth the three.

  "Here is rare rhyming, my worthy guest," said the Landamman, shakinghis head; "fine words to make foolish maidens fain. But do not excuseit; it is your country-fashion, and we know how to treat it as such."And without further allusion to the concluding couplet, the reading ofwhich threw the poet as well as the object of the verses into somediscomposure, he added gravely, "You must now allow, RudolphDonnerhugel, that the stranger has fairly attained the three markswhich he proposed to himself."

  "That he has attained them is plain," answered the party to whom theappeal was made; "but that he has done this fairly may be doubted, ifthere are such things as witchery and magic in this world."

  "Shame, shame, Rudolph!" said the Landamman. "Can spleen and envy haveweight with so brave a man as you, from whom my sons ought to learntemperance, forbearance, and candour, as well as manly courage anddexterity?"

  The Bernese coloured high under this rebuke, to which he ventured notto attempt a reply.

  "To your sports till sunset, my children," continued Arnold; "while Iand my worthy friend occupy our time with a walk, for which theevening is now favourable."

  "Methinks," said the English merchant, "I should like to visit theruins of yonder castle, situated by the waterfall. There is somethingof melancholy dignity in such a scene which reconciles us to themisfortunes of our own time, by showing that our ancestors, who wereperhaps more intelligent or more powerful, have nevertheless, in theirdays, encountered cares and distresses similar to those which we nowgroan under."

  "Have with you, my worthy sir," replied his host; "there will be timealso upon the road to talk of things that you should know."

  The slow step of the two elderly men carried them by degrees from thelimits of the lawn, where shout and laugh and halloo were againrevived. Young Philipson, whose success as an archer had obliteratedall recollection of former failure, made other attempts to mingle inthe manly pastimes of the country, and gained a considerable portionof applause. The young men, who had but lately been so ready to joinin ridiculing him, now began to consider him as a person to be lookedup and appealed to; while Rudolph Donnerhugel saw with resentment thathe was no longer without a rival in the opinion of his male cousins,perhaps of his kinswoman also. The proud young Swiss reflected withbitterness that he had fallen under the Landamman's displeasure,declined in reputation with his companions, of whom he had beenhitherto the leader, and even hazarded a more mortifyingdisappointment, all, as his swelling heart expressed it, through themeans of a stranger stripling, of neither blood nor fame, who couldnot step from one rock to another without the encouragement of a girl.

  In this irritated mood, he drew near the young Englishman, and whilehe seemed to address him on the chances of the sports which were stillproceeding, he conveyed, in a whisper, matter of a far differenttendency. Striking Arthur's shoulder with the frank bluntness of amountaineer, he said aloud: "Yonder bolt of Ernest whistled throughthe air like a falcon when she stoops down the wind!" and thenproceeded in a deep low voice, "You merchants sell gloves--do you everdeal in single gauntlets, or only in pairs?"

  "I _sell_ no single glove," said Arthur, instantly apprehending him,and sufficiently disposed to resent the scornful looks of the Bernesechampion during the time of their meal, and his having but latelyimputed his successful shooting to chance or sorcery,--"I _sell_ nosingle glove, sir, but never refuse to exchange one."

  "You are apt, I see," said Rudolph. "Look at the players while Ispeak, or our purpose will be suspected.--You are quicker, I say, ofapprehension than I expected. If we exchange our gloves, how shalleach redeem his own?"

  "With our good swords," said Arthur Philipson.

  "In armour, or as we stand?"

  "Even as we stand," said Arthur. "I have no better garment of proofthan this doublet--no other weapon than my sword; and these, SirSwitzer, I hold enough for the purpose.--Name time and place."

  "The old castle-court at Geierstein," replied Rudolph; "the timesunrise;--but we are watched.--I have lost my wager, stranger," headded, speaking aloud, and in an indifferent tone of voice, "sinceUlrick has made a cast beyond Ernest.--There is my glove, in token Ishall not forget the flask of wine."

  "And there is mine," said Arthur, "in token I will drink it with youmerrily."

  Thus, amid the peaceful though rough sports of their companions, didthese two hot-headed youths contrive to indulge their hostileinclinations towards each other, by settling a meeting of deadlypurpose.