The Dove in the Eagle's Nest by Charlotte M. Yonge (e novels for free .txt) 📖

fancy such love must have been towards one whom she knew but for a few short months, though her pure sweet dreams, through these long years, have moulded him into a hero.  Boys, I verily believe ye love her truly.  Would it be well for her still to mourn and cherish a dream while yet in her fresh age, capable of new happiness, fuller than she has ever enjoyed?”

“She is happy with us,” rejoined Ebbo.

“And ye are good lads and loving sons, though less duteous in manner than I could wish.  But look you, you may not ever be with her, and when ye are absent in camp or court, or contracting a wedlock of your own, would you leave her to her lonesome life in your solitary castle?”

Friedel’s unselfishness might have been startled, but Ebbo boldly answered, “All mine is hers.  No joy to me but shall be a joy to her.  We can make her happier than could any stranger.  Is it not so, Friedel?”

“It is,” said Friedel, thoughtfully.

“Ah, rash bloods, promising beyond what ye can keep.  Nature will be too strong for you.  Love your mother as ye may, what will she be to you when a bride comes in your way?  Fling not away in wrath, Sir Baron; it was so with your parents both before you; and what said the law of the good God at the first marriage?  How can you withstand the nature He has given?”

“Belike I may wed,” said Ebbo, bluntly; “but if it be not for my mother’s happiness, call me man-sworn knight.”

“Not so,” good-humouredly answered Gottfried, “but boy-sworn paladin, who talks of he knows not what.  Speak knightly truth, Sir Baron, and own that this opposition is in verity from distaste to a stepfather’s rule.”

“I own that I will not brook such rule,” said Ebbo; “nor do I know what we have done to deserve that it should be thrust on us.  You have never blamed Friedel, at least; and verily, uncle, my mother’s eye will lead me where a stranger’s hand shall never drive me.  Did I even think she had for this man a quarter of the love she bears to my dead father, I would strive for endurance; but in good sooth we found her in tears, praying us to guard her from him.  I may be a boy, but I am man enough to prevent her from being coerced.”

“Was this so, Friedel?” asked Master Gottfried, moved more than by all that had gone before.  “Ach, I thought ye all wiser.  And spake she not of Sir Kasimir’s offers?—Interest with the Romish king?—Yea, and a grant of nobility and arms to this house, so as to fill the blank in your scutcheon?”

“My father never asked if she were noble,” said Ebbo.  “Nor will I barter her for a cantle of a shield.”

“There spake a manly spirit,” said his uncle, delighted.  “Her worth hath taught thee how little to prize these gewgaws!  Yet, if you look to mingling with your own proud kind, ye may fall among greater slights than ye can brook.  It may matter less to you, Sir Baron, but Friedel here, ay, and your sons, will be ineligible to the choicest orders of knighthood, and the canonries and chapters that are honourable endowments.”

Friedel looked as if he could bear it, and Eberhard said, “The order of the Dove of Adlerstein is enough for us.”

“Headstrong all, headstrong all,” sighed Master Gottfried.  “One romantic marriage has turned all your heads.”

The Baron of Adlerstein Wildschloss, unprepared for the opposition that awaited him, was riding down the street equipped point device, and with a goodly train of followers, in brilliant suits.  Private wooing did not enter into the honest ideas of the burghers, and the suitor was ushered into the full family assembly, where Christina rose and came forward a few steps to meet him, curtseying as low as he bowed, as he said, “Lady, I have preferred my suit to you through your honour-worthy uncle, who is good enough to stand my friend.”

“You are over good, sir.  I feel the honour, but a second wedlock may not be mine.”

“Now,” murmured Ebbo to his brother, as the knight and lady seated themselves in full view, “now will the smooth-tongued fellow talk her out of her senses.  Alack! that gipsy prophecy!”

Wildschloss did not talk like a young wooer; such days were over for both; but he spoke as a grave and honourable man, deeply penetrated with true esteem and affection.  He said that at their first meeting he had been struck with her sweetness and discretion, and would soon after have endeavoured to release her from her durance, but that he was bound by the contract already made with the Trautbachs, who were dangerous neighbours to Wildschloss.  He had delayed his distasteful marriage as long as possible, and it had caused him nothing but trouble and strife; his children would not live, and Thekla, the only survivor, was, as his sole heiress, a mark for the cupidity of her uncle, the Count of Trautbach, and his almost savage son Lassla; while the right to the Wildschloss barony would become so doubtful between her and Ebbo, as heir of the male line, that strife and bloodshed would be well-nigh inevitable.  These causes made it almost imperative that he should re-marry, and his own strong preference and regard for little Thekla directed his wishes towards the Freiherrinn von Adlerstein.  He backed his suit with courtly compliments, as well as with representations of his child’s need of a mother’s training, and the twins’ equal want of fatherly guidance, dilating on the benefits he could confer on them.

Christina felt his kindness, and had full trust in his intentions.  “No” was a difficult syllable to her, but she had that within her which could not accept him; and she firmly told him that she was too much bound to both her Eberhards.  But there was no daunting him, nor preventing her uncle and aunt from encouraging him.  He professed that he would wait, and give her time to consider; and though she reiterated that consideration would not change her mind, Master Gottfried came forward to thank him, and express his confidence of bringing her to reason.

“While I, sir,” said Ebbo, with flashing eyes, and low but resentful voice, “beg to decline the honour in the name of the elder house of Adlerstein.”

He held himself upright as a dart, but was infinitely annoyed by the little mocking bow and smile that he received in return, as Sir Kasimir, with his long mantle, swept out of the apartment, attended by Master Gottfried.

“Burgomaster Sorel,” said the boy, standing in the middle of the floor as his uncle returned, “let me hear whether I am a person of any consideration in this family or not?”

“Nephew baron,” quietly replied Master Gottfried, “it is not the use of us Germans to be dictated to by youths not yet arrived at years of discretion.”

“Then, mother,” said Ebbo, “we leave this place to-morrow morn.”  And at her nod of assent the house-father looked deeply grieved, the house-mother began to clamour about ingratitude.  “Not so,” answered Ebbo, fiercely.  “We quit the house as poor as we came, in homespun and with the old mare.”

“Peace, Ebbo!” said his mother, rising; “peace, I entreat, house-mother! pardon, uncle, I pray thee.  O, why will not all who love me let me follow that which I believe to be best!”

“Child,” said her uncle, “I cannot see thee domineered over by a youth whose whole conduct shows his need of restraint.”

“Nor am I,” said Christina.  “It is I who am utterly averse to this offer.  My sons and I are one in that; and, uncle, if I pray of you to consent to let us return to our castle, it is that I would not see the visit that has made us so happy stained with strife and dissension!  Sure, sure, you cannot be angered with my son for his love for me.”

“For the self-seeking of his love,” said Master Gottfried.  “It is to gratify his own pride that he first would prevent thee from being enriched and ennobled, and now would bear thee away to the scant—Nay, Freiherr, I will not seem to insult you, but resentment would make you cruel to your mother.”

“Not cruel!” said Friedel, hastily.  “My mother is willing.  And verily, good uncle, methinks that we all were best at home.  We have benefited much and greatly by our stay; we have learnt to love and reverence you; but we are wild mountaineers at the best; and, while our hearts are fretted by the fear of losing our sweet mother, we can scarce be as patient or submissive as if we had been bred up by a stern father.  We have ever judged and acted for ourselves, and it is hard to us not to do so still, when our minds are chafed.”

“Friedel,” said Ebbo, sternly, “I will have no pardon asked for maintaining my mother’s cause.  Do not thou learn to be smooth-tongued.”

“O thou wrong-headed boy!” half groaned Master Gottfried.  “Why did not all this fall out ten years sooner, when thou wouldst have been amenable?  Yet, after all, I do not know that any noble training has produced a more high-minded loving youth,” he added, half relenting as he looked at the gallant, earnest face, full of defiance indeed, but with a certain wistful appealing glance at “the motherling,” softening the liquid lustrous dark eye.  “Get thee gone, boy, I would not quarrel with you; and it may be, as Friedel says, that we are best out of one another’s way.  You are used to lord it, and I can scarce make excuses for you.”

“Then,” said Ebbo, scarce appeased, “I take home my mother, and you, sir, cease to favour Kasimir’s suit.”

“No, Sir Baron.  I cease not to think that nothing would be so much for your good.  It is because I believe that a return to your own old castle will best convince you all that I will not vex your mother by further opposing your departure.  When you perceive your error may it only not be too late!  Such a protector is not to be found every day.”

“My mother shall never need any protector save myself,” said Ebbo; “but, sir, she loves you, and owes all to you.  Therefore I will not be at strife with you, and there is my hand.”

He said it as if he had been the Emperor reconciling himself to all the Hanse towns in one.  Master Gottfried could scarce refrain from shrugging his shoulders, and Hausfrau Johanna was exceedingly angry with the petulant pride and insolence of the young noble; but, in effect, all were too much relieved to avoid an absolute quarrel with the fiery lad to take exception at minor matters.  The old burgher was forbearing; Christina, who knew how much her son must have swallowed to bring him to this concession for love of her, thought him a hero worthy of all sacrifices; and peace-making Friedel, by his aunt’s side, soon softened even her, by some of the persuasive arguments that old dames love from gracious, graceful, great-nephews.

And when, by and by, Master Gottfried went out to call on Sir Kasimir, and explain how he had thought it best to yield to the hot-tempered lad, and let the family learn how to be thankful for the goods they had rejected, he found affairs in a state that made him doubly anxious that the young barons should be safe on their mountain without knowing of them.  The Trautbach family had heard of Wildschloss’s designs, and they had set abroad such injurious reports respecting the Lady of Adlerstein, that Sir Kasimir was in the act of inditing a cartel to be sent by Count Kaulwitz, to demand an explanation—not merely as the lady’s suitor, but as the only Adlerstein of full age.  Now, if Ebbo had heard of the rumour, he would certainly have given the lie direct, and taken the whole defence on himself; and it may be feared that, just as his cause might have been, Master Gottfried’s faith did not stretch to believing that it would make his sixteen-year-old arm equal to the brutal might of Lassla of Trautbach.  So he heartily thanked the Baron of Wildschloss, agreed with him that the young knights were not as yet equal to the maintenance of the cause, and went home again to watch carefully that no report reached either of his nephews.  Nor did he breathe freely till he had seen the little party ride safe off in the early morning, in much more lordly guise than when they had entered the city.

As to Wildschloss and his nephew of Trautbach, in spite of their relationship they had a sharp combat on the borders of their own estates, in which both were severely wounded; but Sir Kasimir, with the misericorde in his grasp, forced Lassla to retract whatever he had said in dispraise of the Lady of Adlerstein.  Wily old Gottfried took care that the tidings should be sent in a form that might at once move Christina with pity and gratitude