Part 9 (2/2)

Just at this time the King of all Germany came down to Brabant. With pomp and ceremony he came, bringing rough knights from Saxony and brave n.o.bles from Thuringia, all good men and true, to bear him company.

Henry the First was he, a wise king and a just. People called him Henry the Fowler because he was so fond of hunting. It may be, however, that it was not the hunt that he loved so much as the great out-of-doors, the wide plains, the wild forests, the winding rivers. Whenever he summoned his faithful subjects to discuss affairs of peace or war, he chose some meeting place under the blue sky, in G.o.d's temple, where men breathe deeply, think clearly, and judge rightly.

So, when at Brabant King Henry found no duke to greet him; when, instead, he heard of strife, of discord, and of strange whispers, he sat himself down beneath a giant oak on the bank of the winding river Scheldt. And the trumpeters blew a great blast, the herald proclaimed the King's presence, the trusty men who had come to bear him company stood at arms, while the Brabantians gathered from north and south, from east and west, of the Duchy to hearken to the King's word.

”I had come here, my good people,” began the King, ”to ask the aid of your forces in subduing the wild Hungarian foe. Full well do I know that as loyal German subjects you are ready to answer your country's call. But I find discord in your midst, strife and confusion. Therefore have I called you together to learn the causes thereof and to deal justly with the offenders, be it possible.”

The people of Brabant were pleased with the King's words and looked to Frederick of Telramund to make answer. Frederick arose. Behind him stood his wife, the dark-haired princess Ortrud, ready to prompt him should he hesitate.

But false Frederick did not hesitate. His voice did not tremble, although he spoke with much show of grief. He made a low obeisance to the King and besought sympathy for the sad tale he was about to tell. He told how the dying Duke had intrusted Elsa and G.o.dfrey to his care, how tenderly he had reared them, how devotedly he had loved them, and how sorely the mysterious disappearance of G.o.dfrey had grieved him. And then, he continued, he had been forced to believe that Elsa had murdered her brother in order to claim the whole Duchy for herself--or mayhap--for some secret lover. Therefore he, Frederick of Telramund, and his wife Ortrud, by right of inheritance, besought the King to make them Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Brabant.

”An astounding story indeed!” The free-men muttered to each other. The n.o.bles looked at Frederick and shook their heads. ”The man must be sure of his proof to make such an accusation,” said they, as they turned toward the King.

King Henry sat with bowed head, in deep thought. He ran his hand over his forehead, pondered a moment, and then murmured:

”So foul a deed!”

Aloud he said:

”I would see this maid. I would look upon her face. I would hear her tale. And may G.o.d guide my judgment aright.”

Hanging his s.h.i.+eld on the giant oak behind him, King Henry swore never to wear it again until justice had been done. And all the German n.o.bles drew their swords and thrust them, points down, into the ground, swearing never to wear them again until justice had been done. And the men of Brabant laid their swords at their feet, swearing the same. Then the herald summoned Elsa.

She came, the fair-haired Elsa, clad all in white, with her train of ladies, all in white, behind her. They paused, and she, with hands clasped and eyes cast down, advanced timidly, slowly, alone, until she stood before the King. Her golden hair, unbound, hung a cloud of glory about her. How young she was! How lovely! The rough knights gazed upon her, and their eyes filled with tears. Surely no maiden with such a face could be guilty of such a crime.

The King spoke very gently. Was she Elsa of Brabant? She bowed her head. Did she know the heavy charge that had been brought against her?

She bowed again. Was she willing that he, King Henry, should judge her?

Once more her head was bowed in a.s.sent. And it was only when the King asked whether she was guilty of this murder that Elsa found voice. She wrung her hands piteously, and exclaimed, ”Oh, my poor, poor brother!”

A dreamy look was upon Elsa's face as she told her story. Her voice trembled, and her eyes strayed over the distant hills. It was as though she saw it all again.

She told of that day in the woods, her sad walk alone, her deep grief, her utter weariness. She told of her rest beneath the friendly tree and of the blue heaven overhead. But when she told of her prayer to G.o.d for guidance in her distress, her faltering voice grew stronger, braver.

Rapturously, she told of her dream, and of the n.o.ble knight whose white armor had glittered in the sunlight, of his sword, his horn, and, last, of his promise.

”Him will I trust!” she cried. ”He shall my Champion be!”

The knights, the n.o.bles, the King, were startled. But Frederick of Telramund cried out.

”Such words do not mislead me. See! does she not speak of a secret lover? What further proof do you need? Here stand I, and here's my sword, both ready to fight for my honor.”

Now since King Henry believed that G.o.d in His wisdom would surely give might to the hands that fought for Right, he asked Frederick if he were ready to fight for life or death to uphold this charge that he had brought.

Frederick answered, ”Yes.”

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