The Dove in the Eagle's Nest by Charlotte M. Yonge (i read book TXT) 📕

breeding.  A second nobleman demanding her—and one who should be able richly to endow her!”

“And who will do so,” said Master Gottfried.  “For morning gift he promises the farms and lands of Grünau—rich both in forest and corn glebe.  Likewise, her dower shall be upon Wildschloss—where the soil is of the richest pasture, and there are no less than three mills, whence the lord obtains large rights of multure.  Moreover, the Castle was added to and furnished on his marriage with the late baroness, and might serve a Kurfürst; and though the jewels of Freiherrinn Valeska must be inherited by her daughter, yet there are many of higher price which have descended from his own ancestresses, and which will all be hers.”

“And what a wedding we will have!” exclaimed Johanna; “it shall be truly baronial.  I will take my hood and go at once to neighbour Sophie Lemsberg, who was wife to the Markgraf’s Under Keller-Meister.  She will tell me point device the ceremonies befitting the espousals of a baron’s widow.”

Poor Christina had sat all this time with drooping head and clasped hands, a tear stealing down as the formal terms of the treaty sent her spirit back to the urgent, pleading, imperious voice that had said, “Now, little one, thou wilt not shut me out;” and as she glanced at the ring that had lain on that broad palm, she felt as if her sixteen cheerful years had been an injury to her husband in his nameless bloody grave.  But protection was so needful in those rude ages, and second marriages so frequent, that reluctance was counted as weakness.  She knew her uncle and aunt would never believe that aught but compulsion had bound her to the rude outlaw, and her habit of submission was so strong that, only when her aunt was actually rising to go and consult her gossip, she found breath to falter,

“Hold, dear aunt—my sons—”

“Nay, child, it is the best thing thou couldst do for them.  Wonders hast thou wrought, yet are they too old to be without fatherly authority.  I speak not of Friedel; the lad is gentle and pious, though spirited, but for the baron.  The very eye and temper of my poor brother Hugh—thy father, Stine—are alive again in him.  Yea, I love the lad the better for it, while I fear.  He minds me precisely of Hugh ere he was ’prenticed to the weapon-smith, and all became bitterness.”

“Ah, truly,” said Christina, raising her eyes “all would become bitterness with my Ebbo were I to give a father’s power to one whom he would not love.”

“Then were he sullen and unruly, indeed!” said the old burgomaster with displeasure; “none have shown him more kindness, none could better aid him in court and empire.  The lad has never had restraint enough.  I blame thee not, child, but he needs it sorely, by thine own showing.”

“Alas, uncle! mine be the blame, but it is over late.  My boy will rule himself for the love of God and of his mother, but he will brook no hand over him—least of all now he is a knight and thinks himself a man.  Uncle, I should be deprived of both my sons, for Friedel’s very soul is bound up with his brother’s.  I pray thee enjoin not this thing on me,” she implored.

“Child!” exclaimed Master Gottfried, “thou thinkst not that such a contract as this can be declined for the sake of a wayward Junker!”

“Stay, house-father, the little one will doubtless hear reason and submit,” put in the aunt.  “Her sons were goodly and delightsome to her in their upgrowth, but they are well-nigh men.  They will be away to court and camp, to love and marriage; and how will it be with her then, young and fair as she still is?  Well will it be for her to have a stately lord of her own, and a new home of love and honour springing round her.”

“True,” continued Sorel; “and though she be too pious and wise to reck greatly of such trifles, yet it may please her dreamy brain to hear that Sir Kasimir loves her even like a paladin, and the love of a tried man of six-and-forty is better worth than a mere kindling of youthful fancy.”

“Mine Eberhard loved me!” murmured Christina, almost to herself, but her aunt caught the word.

“And what was such love worth?  To force thee into a stolen match, and leave thee alone and unowned to the consequences!”

“Peace!” exclaimed Christina, with crimson cheek and uplifted head.  “Peace!  My own dear lord loved me with true and generous love!  None but myself knows how much.  Not a word will I hear against that tender heart.”

“Yes, peace,” returned Gottfried in a conciliatory tone,—“peace to the brave Sir Eberhard.  Thine aunt meant no ill of him.  He truly would rejoice that the wisdom of his choice should receive such testimony, and that his sons should be thus well handled.  Nay, little as I heed such toys, it will doubtless please the lads that the baron will obtain of the Emperor letters of nobility for this house, which verily sprang of a good Walloon family, and so their shield will have no blank.  The Romish king promises to give thee rank with any baroness, and hath fully owned what a pearl thou art, mine own sweet dove!  Nay, Sir Kasimir is coming to-morrow in the trust to make the first betrothal with Graf von Kaulwitz as a witness, and I thought of asking the Provost on the other hand.”

“To-morrow!” exclaimed Johanna; “and how is she to be meetly clad?  Look at this widow-garb; and how is time to be found for procuring other raiment?  House-father, a substantial man like you should better understand!  The meal too!  I must to gossip Sophie!”

“Verily, dear mother and father,” said Christina, who had rallied a little, “have patience with me.  I may not lightly or suddenly betroth myself; I know not that I can do so at all, assuredly not unless my sons were heartily willing.  Have I your leave to retire?”

“Granted, my child, for meditation will show thee that this is too fair a lot for any but thee.  Much had I longed to see thee wedded ere thy sons outgrew thy care, but I shunned proposing even one of our worthy guildmasters, lest my young Freiherr should take offence; but this knight, of his own blood, true and wise as a burgher, and faithful and God-fearing withal, is a better match than I durst hope, and is no doubt a special reward from thy patron saint.”

“Let me entreat one favour more,” implored Christina.  “Speak of this to no one ere I have seen my sons.”

She made her way to her own chamber, there to weep and flutter.  Marriage was a matter of such high contract between families that the parties themselves had usually no voice in the matter, and only the widowed had any chance of a personal choice; nor was this always accorded in the case of females, who remained at the disposal of their relatives.  Good substantial wedded affection was not lacking, but romantic love was thought an unnecessary preliminary, and found a vent in extravagant adoration, not always in reputable quarters.  Obedience first to the father, then to the husband, was the first requisite; love might shift for itself; and the fair widow of Adlerstein, telling her beads in sheer perplexity, knew not whether her strong repugnance to this marriage and warm sympathy with her son Ebbo were not an act of rebellion.  Yet each moment did her husband rise before her mind more vividly, with his rugged looks, his warm, tender heart, his dawnings of comprehension, his generous forbearance and reverential love—the love of her youth—to be equalled by no other.  The accomplished courtier and polished man of the world might be his superior, but she loathed the superiority, since it was to her husband.  Might not his one chosen dove keep heart-whole for him to the last?  She recollected that coarsest, cruellest reproach of all that her mother-in-law had been wont to fling at her,—that she, the recent widow, the new-made mother of Eberhard’s babes, in her grief, her terror, and her weakness had sought to captivate this suitor by her blandishments.  The taunt seemed justified, and her cheeks burned with absolute shame “My husband! my loving Eberhard! left with none but me to love thee, unknown to thine own sons!  I cannot, I will not give my heart away from thee!  Thy little bride shall be faithful to thee, whatever betide.  When we meet beyond the grave I will have been thine only, nor have set any before thy sons.  Heaven forgive me if I be undutiful to my uncle; but thou must be preferred before even him!  Hark!” and she started as if at Eberhard’s foot-step; then smiled, recollecting that Ebbo had his father’s tread.  But her husband had been too much in awe of her to enter with that hasty agitated step and exclamation, “Mother, mother, what insolence is this!”

“Hush, Ebbo!  I prayed mine uncle to let me speak to thee.”

“It is true, then,” said Ebbo, dashing his cap on the ground; “I had soundly beaten that grinning ’prentice for telling Heinz.”

“Truly the house rings with the rumour, mother,” said Friedel, “but we had not believed it.”

“I believed Wildschloss assured enough for aught,” said Ebbo, “but I thought he knew where to begin.  Does he not know who is head of the house of Adlerstein, since he must tamper with a mechanical craftsman, cap in hand to any sprig of nobility!  I would have soon silenced his overtures!”

“Is it in sooth as we heard?” asked Friedel, blushing to the ears, for the boy was shy as a maiden.  “Mother, we know what you would say,” he added, throwing himself on his knees beside her, his arm round her waist, his cheek on her lap, and his eyes raised to hers.

She bent down to kiss him.  “Thou knewst it, Friedel, and now must thou aid me to remain thy father’s true widow, and to keep Ebbo from being violent.”

Ebbo checked his hasty march to put his hand on her chair and kiss her brow.  “Motherling, I will restrain myself, so you will give me your word not to desert us.”

“Nay, Ebbo,” said Friedel, “the motherling is too true and loving for us to bind her.”

“Children,” she answered, “hear me patiently.  I have been communing with myself, and deeply do I feel that none other can I love save him who is to you a mere name, but to me a living presence.  Nor would I put any between you and me.  Fear me not, Ebbo.  I think the mothers and sons of this wider, fuller world do not prize one another as we do.  But, my son, this is no matter for rage or ingratitude.  Remember it is no small condescension in a noble to stoop to thy citizen mother.”

“He knew what painted puppets noble ladies are,” growled Ebbo.

“Moreover,” continued Christina, “thine uncle is highly gratified, and cannot believe that I can refuse.  He understands not my love for thy father, and sees many advantages for us all.  I doubt me if he believes I have power to resist his will, and for thee, he would not count thine opposition valid.  And the more angry and vehement thou art, the more will he deem himself doing thee a service by overruling thee.”

“Come home, mother.  Let Heinz lead our horses to the door in the dawn, and when we are back in free Adlerstein it will be plain who is master.”

“Such a flitting would scarce prove our wisdom,” said Christina, “to run away with thy mother like a lover in a ballad.  Nay, let me first deal gently with thine uncle, and speak myself with Sir Kasimir, so that I may show him the vanity of his suit.  Then will we back to Adlerstein without leaving wounds to requite kindness.”

Ebbo was wrought on to promise not to attack the burgomaster on the subject, but he was moody and silent, and Master Gottfried let him alone, considering his gloom as another proof of his need of fatherly authority, and as a peace-lover forbearing to provoke his fiery spirit.

But when Sir Kasimir’s visit was imminent, and Christina had refused to make the change in her dress by which a young widow was considered to lay herself open to another courtship, Master Gottfried called the twins apart.

“My young lords,” he said, “I fear me ye are vexing your gentle mother by needless strife at what must take place.”

“Pardon me, good uncle,” said Ebbo, “I utterly decline the honour of Sir Kasimir’s suit to my mother.”

Master Gottfried smiled.  “Sons are not wont to be the judges in such cases, Sir Eberhard.”

“Perhaps not,” he answered; “but my mother’s will is to the nayward, nor shall she be coerced.”

“It is merely because of you and your pride,” said Master Gottfried.

“I think not so,” rejoined the calmer Friedel; “my mother’s love for my father is still fresh.”

“Young knights,” said Master Gottfried, “it would scarce become me to say, nor you to hear, how much matter of