THE VIRGIN AS KNIGHT

THE VIRGIN AS KNIGHT

Mary is named a Throne, the Lord's own Tabernacle,

An Ark, Keep, Tower, House, a Spring, Tree, Garden, Mirror,

A Sea, a Star, the Moon, a Hill, the Blush of Morning.

All these how can she be? She is another world!

Angelus Silesius, Cherub. Wandersmann, Book iv. 42.

Gebizo had acquired so much wealth over and above his former possessions that Bertrade found herself mistress of a noble earldom, and became famous throughout the Empire for her wealth as well as her beauty. As, withal, she was very unassuming and friendly with every one, the jewel of her person appeared an easy conquest to all the nobility, shy and enterprising, bold and timid, great and small alike, and every one who had seen her a few times was surprised that he did not already have her in his possession. Yet more than a year passed, and no one knew of any who had acquired real grounds for hope.

Even the Emperor heard of her, and, as he was desirous that such a splendid fief should pass into the hands of a suitable husband, he determined to pay the celebrated widow a visit in the course of a journey, and signified his intention to her in a most gracious and friendly letter. This he entrusted to a young knight Zendelwald, whose road lay that way. He was favourably received by Bertrade, and entertained handsomely, as was every one who resorted to her castle. He beheld with admiration the lordly halls, battlements and gardens, and incidentally fell violently in love with their mistress. Still, he did not linger an hour longer in the castle on that account; but, when he had delivered his message and seen all that there was to see, he took a brief farewell of the lady and rode away, the only one of all those who had ever been there who did not think himself competent to win that prize.

The fact was that he was sluggish in word and deed. Even when his mind and heart had mastered any matter, which they always did with thoroughness and fire, Zendelwald could never bring himself to take the first step to a realization, for the thing seemed to him as good as finished when once he saw his way clearly to it in his mind. Although he was ready enough to talk when there was nothing to be gained by doing so, he never uttered the opportune word which would have brought him fortune. Not only his tongue, but his hand too, was so far behind his thought that in battle he was often all but overcome by his opponent, because, seeing in his mind's eye his enemy already at his feet, he delayed giving the decisive stroke. Thus his manner of fighting excited surprise at every tournament; for he always began by scarcely exerting himself, and it was not until he was in the utmost extremity that he gained the victory by some masterly stroke.

His mind in full play on the subject of the fair Bertrade, our Zendelwald now rode home to his little castle, which lay in a lonely mountain forest. A few charcoal-burners and woodmen were all his subjects, and so his mother always awaited his return in bitter impatience to know whether he had at last brought home fortune.

Zendelwald's mother was as handy and determined as he was indolent, though not any more successful; for on her side she had carried her qualities to excess, and they had twined into fussiness. In her youth she had been eager to find a husband as soon as possible, and had overpressed several opportunities so hastily and eagerly that in her haste she had made the very worst possible choice in the shape of a disreputable, foolhardy fellow, who ran through all his inheritance, came to a premature end, and left her nothing but a long widowhood, poverty and one son who would not take the trouble to bestir himself to grasp at fortune.

The little household's only fare consisted of the milk of some goats, forest-fruits, and game. Zendelwald's mother was an accomplished sportswoman, and shot wild pigeons and grouse with the cross-bow as she pleased. She also caught trout in the brooks, and with her own hands repaired the little castle with stone and lime where it became decayed. At that moment she had just returned home with a hare which she had knocked over, and, as she hung the animal from the window of her high-perched kitchen, she gave another look out into the valley and saw her son riding along the road. She let down the drawbridge with joy, for he had been absent for months.

She at once began to enquire whether he had got hold of any tuft or feather of luck to bring home and make the most of, and, as he recounted the usual unprofitable experiences of his most recent campaign, she shook her head in wrath. But, when he came to tell her all about his mission to the rich and captivating Bertrade, and lauded her kindness and beauty, she scolded him for a lazy-bones and a faint-heart to run away so basely. She was not long in perceiving that Zendelwald could think of nothing else than the far-off lady, and she began to be downright impatient with him to think that with such a praiseworthy passion in his heart he failed utterly to make anything of it, since in his case to be so head and ears over in love was a hindrance rather than an incentive to action.

His days were not of the happiest. His mother was sulky with him, and in her irritation sought to divert herself by mending the damaged roof of the tower, so that the good Zendelwald was in fear and trembling as he saw her clambering about aloft. In her ill temper she would pitch down broken tiles, and wellnigh knocked out the brains of a stranger knight as he was about to enter the door to request a night's lodging.

The latter, however, managed to win the ungracious lady's friendship during supper, as he related many pleasant things, and in particular that the Emperor was then staying at the pretty widow's great castle where one feast was followed by another, and the fortunate lady was unceasingly besieged by the Emperor and his lords to choose a husband from among them. She, however, had found a way of evasion by convoking a great tournament and promising her hand to the victor, in the firm belief that her patron the Blessed Virgin would intervene and direct the arm of the right man, who was destined for her, to victory.

"Now, that would be something for you to try," the guest concluded, turning to Zendelwald; "such a handsome young knight ought to go straight for it and try to win the best fortune of these days, according to worldly estimation. Besides, it is commonly said that the lady hopes that in this way some unknown luck may turn up, perchance some poor but honest hero, whom she can kiss and coll, and that she has an aversion to all the great and famous counts and idle wooers."

When the stranger had ridden away, Zendelwald's mother said, "Now, I'll wager that no less a person than Bertrade herself sent that messenger to put you on the right track, my dear Zendelwald! It's as clear as daylight; what other business had the fellow, who has drunk our last flagon of wine, to bring him travelling in this forest?"

Her son began to laugh mightily at her words, and went on laughing more and more heartily, partly at the manifest impossibility of his mother's fancies, partly because he found those said fancies rather agreeable. The mere thought that Bertrade could possibly wish to take possession of him kept him laughing uncontrollably. But his mother, who thought that he was laughing in derision of her, flew into a rage, and cried, "Listen! My curse be upon you if you do not obey me and set out on your way at once to win that fortune. Do not come back without it, else I never wish to see you again! Or, if you do come back, I'll take my bow and arrows and go out to seek a grave where I can have peace from your stupidity!"

So now Zendelwald had no choice; for the sake of peace and quietness, he furbished his weapons, sighing the while, and rode as Heaven might guide him in the direction of Bertrade's dwelling, without being convinced that he should really go there. Nevertheless he stuck pretty close to the road, and the nearer he came to his destination, the more clearly the thought took shape that, after all, he might undertake the adventure as well as another, and that, when he had settled matters with his rivals, it would not cost him his head to try conclusions with the fair lady. The adventure now developed stage by stage in his mind, and came to the happiest issue; indeed, all day long, as he rode through the green summer landscape, he held sweet dialogues with his beloved, in which he told her most beautiful conceits, so that her face became rosy for gratification and joy--all this in his imagination.

As he was in the act of inwardly depicting one more happy event, he saw in good earnest, on a distant blue ridge, the towers and battlements of the castle shining in the morning sun, with its gilded balustrades gleaming from afar, and was so startled at the sight that all the fabric of his dreams was dissolved, and left nothing but a faint, irresolute heart behind.

Involuntarily he reined in his horse and looked around, as laggards will, for a place of refuge. Whereupon he became aware of a pretty little church, the same which Bertrade had once built to the Mother of God, and in which she had slept that sleep. He at once resolved to go in and collect his thoughts somewhat before the altar, the more so as it was the day on which the tournament was to be held.

The priest was in the act of singing Mass, which was attended only by two or three poor people, so that the knight contributed no small ornament to the little congregation. When all was over, and priest and sacristan had left the church, Zendelwald felt so comfortable in those quarters that he fell sound asleep, and forgot tournament and beloved one, unless indeed he dreamt about them.

Thereupon the Virgin Mary stepped down once again from her altar, assumed his form and accoutrements, mounted his horse, and rode with closed visor, a bold Brunhilda, all the way to the castle in Zendelwald's stead.

When she had ridden a while, she came across a heap of dried rubbish and withered brushwood lying by the wayside. It seemed suspicious to the watchful Virgin, and she noticed something like the tail-end of a serpent peeping out of the confusion. She saw then that it was the Devil, who, still as enamoured as ever, was also prowling about the neighbourhood of the castle, and had hurriedly hid himself from the Virgin in the rubbish. She rode past without appearing to notice him, but cleverly made her horse spring to the side, so that he came down with his hind hoofs on the suspicious tail-end. With a hiss the Evil One made out and away, and never more showed himself again in this connection.

Amused by the little adventure, she rode, full of good humour, to Bertrade's castle, where she arrived just when only the two stoutest jousters remained to fight the deciding contest.

Slowly and carelessly, for all the world like Zendelwald, she rode into the lists, and appeared undecided whether she should take part in the contest or not.

"Here comes lazy Zendelwald," the word went round, and the two stout champions said, "What does he want with us? Just a minute, and let us get him out of the way before we settle matters between ourselves."

One of the champions called himself "Guhl the Speedy." He was in the habit of turning himself and his horse about like a whirlwind, and trying to bewilder and outwit his opponents by a hundred tricks and stratagems. The supposed Zendelwald had to engage him first. He wore a coal-black moustache, the ends of which were twisted and turned up in the air so stiffly that two little silver bells, which were attached to them, could not bend them down, and tinkled incessantly whenever he moved his head. He described this as a peal of terror for his foes and of delight for his lady! His shield glittered, now with this colour, now with that, according to the direction in which he turned it, and he could effect this change so rapidly that the eye was blinded by it. His plume was formed of an enormous cock's tail.

The other stout champion dubbed himself "Mouse the Innumerable," by which he meant to convey that he was as good as an innumerable army. In token of his prowess, he had allowed the hair of his nostrils to grow out about six inches, and had plaited it into two tresses, which hung over his mouth and were adorned at the ends with neat little red favours. Over his armour he wore a great spreading mantle, which almost enveloped himself and his horse, and was cunningly sewed together from a thousand mouseskins. For a crest, he was overshadowed by the mighty outspread wings of a bat, from under which he darted threatening glances out of his slits of eyes.

When the signal was given for the fight with Guhl the Speedy, he rode against the Virgin and encircled her with ever-increasing rapidity, seeking to dazzle her with his shield, and directing a hundred thrusts at her with his lance. All the time, the Virgin stuck to the same spot in the middle of the lists, and appeared to do no more than defend herself with shield and spear, skilfully turning her horse about on its hind-legs so that she always presented her front to her opponent. When Guhl observed this, he suddenly rode some distance back, then turned and ran upon her with his lance in rest, intending to thrust her over the crupper. The Virgin awaited him without stirring; but man and horse seemed of bronze, so firm they stood, and the poor fellow, unaware that he was contending against superhuman power, flew unexpectedly out of his saddle, and lay upon the ground, when he ran upon her spear, while his own was shattered like a straw upon her shield. Without delay the Virgin dismounted, knelt on his breast so that he could not move under the mighty pressure, and with her dagger cut away his moustaches and their silver bells, and fastened them in her sword-belt, while fanfares proclaimed her, or rather Zendelwald, the victor.

Next, Sir Mouse the Innumerable came into the dance. He galloped forward with such violence that his mantle floated in the air like a threatening grey cloud. But the Virgin-Zendelwald, who only now appeared to be beginning to warm up to the fray, galloped as stoutly to meet him, threw him with ease from the saddle at the first thrust, and when Mouse rose at once and drew his sword, she dismounted at the same instant to engage him on foot. He was soon dazed by the rapid strokes with which her sword fell upon his head and shoulders, and he held out his mantle with his left hand to shelter beneath it, and wait a favourable opportunity to throw it over his opponent's head. At that, the Virgin caught a tip of the mantle with the point of her sword, and enveloped Mouse the Innumerable in it from head to foot so dexterously and swiftly that he was soon like an enormous wasp entangled in a spider's web, and lay struggling on the ground.

Then the Virgin belaboured him with the flat of her sword so vigorously that the mantle was resolved into its component parts, and a shower of mouse-skins darkened the air amid the universal laughter of the spectators, while the knight gradually emerged again to view, and limped away a beaten man, after his conqueror had cut away his beribboned pigtails.

Thus the Virgin under the guise of Zendelwald remained victor of the field.

She now opened her visor, strode up to the Queen of the Festival, and on bended knee laid the trophies of victory at her feet. Then she rose, and offered the spectacle of a Zendelwald such as he was usually too shy to be. Without, however, compromising his modesty too much, she greeted Bertrade with a look, whose effect on the female heart she well knew. In a word, she proved that she could play, not only the champion, but the lover, so well, that Bertrade did not take back her word, but lent a willing ear to the advice of the Emperor, who after all was glad to see so gallant and noble a man prevail.

Then there was a great festive procession to the gardens, with their tall lime-trees, where the banquet was spread. There Bertrade sat between the Emperor and her Zendelwald. But it was as well that the former was occupied with another pleasant lady; for the latter did not give his bride much time to converse with others, so politely and tenderly did he entertain her. He said the nicest things to her on the spur of the moment, so that time after time she reddened with pleasure. Joy and contentment prevailed everywhere; up in the green vault of the trees the birds sang, vying with the instruments of music; a butterfly settled on the Emperor's crown; and, as if by a special blessing, the wine-cups gave forth a fragrance like violets and mignonette.

But Bertrade, above all, felt so happy, that, while Zendelwald held her by the hand, she thought in her heart of her celestial protectress, and made her a fervent, silent thanksgiving.

The Virgin Mary, who all the time was sitting at her side as Zendelwald, read the prayer in her heart, and was so well pleased at her ward's pious gratitude that she embraced Bertrade tenderly, and imprinted a kiss on her lips, which, as may be imagined, filled the fair woman with heavenly bliss; for when the celestials take to baking sweet-stuff, it is sweet indeed.

As for the Emperor and the rest of the company, they shouted approval to the supposed Zendelwald, raised their goblets, and drank to the health of the handsome couple.

Meanwhile, the real Zendelwald waked out of his unseasonable sleep, and found the sun so far on its course that the tournament must certainly be over. Although he was now well out of the business, still he felt very unhappy and sad; for he would have been only too glad to wed the lady Bertrade. Besides, he did not dare to go back to his mother now. So he determined to set out on an endless, joyless wandering, until death should release him from his useless existence. Only, before doing so, he wished to see his beloved one once again, and imprint her image on his mind for the remainder of his days, that he might always remember what he had thrown away.

He accordingly went back all the way to the castle. When he reached the throng, he heard everywhere proclaimed the praises and good fortune of a poor knight Zendelwald who had attained the prize, and, bitterly curious to know who this fortunate namesake might be, he dismounted from his horse, and forced his way through the crowd until he found a station at the edge of the garden, on an elevated place from which he could overlook the whole feast.

There he beheld in all her finery, not far from the sparkling crown of the Emperor, the radiant, happy face of his beloved; but side by side with her--his astonishment turned him pale--the living image of his own person. As he stood petrified, he saw his double embrace and kiss the pious bride. Thereupon, without delay, he stepped, unnoticed amid the universal joy, through the ranks until he stood, racked by a strange jealousy, close behind the couple. At the same moment, his counterfeit vanished from Bertrade's side, and she looked about for him in dismay. But when she saw Zendelwald behind her, she laughed joyfully, and said, "Where are you off to? Come, stay beside me!" And she took his hand and drew him to her side.

So he sat down, and, to test the seeming dream thoroughly, he seized the beaker which stood before him and emptied it at one draught. The wine stood the test, and an unmistakable life streamed through his veins. Quite in the mood, he turned to the smiling woman and looked into her eyes; whereupon she joyously resumed the intimate conversation which had been interrupted the moment before. But Zendelwald could not imagine what had happened to him, when he found Bertrade address him in familiar words, to which he several times unthinkingly answered in others which he had already used somewhere else. Sure enough he discovered after a little that his predecessor must have been carrying on the very same conversation with Bertrade which he had devised in his imagination during the days of his journey, and which he now continued deliberately, in order to see what end the play would have.

But it did not have an end. Instead, it became more and more edifying; for when the sun went down, torches were lighted, and the whole assembly made for the largest hall in the castle to engage in dancing. After the Emperor had danced the first round with the bride, Zendelwald took her on his arm and danced three or four times with her round the hall until, all aglow, she suddenly took him by the hand and drew him aside to a quiet turret-chamber flooded with moonlight. There she flung herself on his breast, stroked his fair beard, and thanked him for his coming and for his affection. Honest Zendelwald, however, wished to ascertain whether he were dreaming or waking, and questioned her about how matters really stood, especially about his double. For a long time, she did not understand him; but one word led to another. Zendelwald said this and that had happened to him, and told her all about his journey, about his turning in to the little church, and how he had fallen asleep there and been too late for the tournament.

At that the affair became so far clear to Bertrade that she recognized for the second time the hand of her gracious patroness. But now at last she had opportunity to regard the valiant knight boldly as a gift from Heaven, and she was grateful enough to press the substantial present to her heart in good earnest and return him full measure for the luscious kiss which she had received from Heaven itself.

But, from that time forth, Sir Zendelwald lost all his sluggishness and dreamy irresolution. He said everything and did everything at the right time before the tender Bertrade and before the rest of the world, and he became a great man in the Empire, so that the Emperor was as well content with him as was his wife.

As for Zendelwald's mother, she appeared at the wedding mounted on horseback, and as proud as if she had been enthroned in fortune all her life long. She looked after money and estates, and hunted in the extensive forests to an advanced age. Bertrade never failed to have Zendelwald take her once a year to the lonely little castle which was his home, where she cooed in the grey tower with her darling as tenderly as the wild doves in the trees round about. But they never omitted to enter the little church on their way, and address their prayers to the Virgin, who stood there as prim and saintly as if she had never once come down from her altar.