The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 28 December 1911, Page 2619

The Storyteller

THE MINNESINGER

The Lady Gertrude's heart had years ago passed from her own maiden keeping. Do what she would, she could not recall it, could not win it back from that gentlest, courtliest of minnesingers, Wolfram von Rosenkranz. As a girl of eighteen she had delighted in his graceful lays, had worshipped his noble, chivalrous nature, had learned to love him ere she knew it. And the knightly minstrel's devotion had been, equally taken, captive by the innocent grace of Markgraf Karl's daughter; he had fallen a victim to the charms of her maiden sweetness and whiteness long ere she had suspected it. , .

For months the delicate idyll had lasted. Wolfram and Gertrude were happy, so happy ! Each found in the other's nobility, truth, generosity, and. beauty of character inexhaustible source of perennially new delight. And in truth each was well worthy of the other. There could scarcely be a better matched couple, than the youthful daughter of the house, gracious and beautiful as a saint, and the golden tongued bard von Rosenkranzso stately and knightly of bearing—who was attached to the Markgraf's court almost as a member of the household. So at least thought more than one of the vassals and retainers in the Markgraf's retinue. The Markgraf, however, being proud and am-3 bitions, was of an entirely opposite opinion. Gertrude was growing up, he reflected; she was beautiful as the day and his only child. It was therefore befitting that he should find her some suitable partner in life ere very long. It was then that, making known his plans to Lady Gertrude, the Markgraf had sustained a great shock. Gertrude not only would not consider the advantageous proposition he had laid before her, of wedding her to the eldest son of a neighboring lord, thus to unite the two families and their wide possessions by the strongest of bonds, but she had told him unflinchingly that her heart was irrevocably another's and that to him she had also pledged her hand, to him only she would belong. And that other—oh ! the thought!—the ' wandering bard,' the obscure minnesinger of his court, Wolfram von Rosenkranz! It was not to be endured. Markgraf Karl was very positive on this point. It was certainly not to be endured that a mere minstrel, well-born though he might declare himself, should aspire to the hand of his master's daughter, and such insolent presumption, such impossible aspirations should not be endured. So it was that, not long after, the sweet singer of love, of summer hours, of spring birds and flowers, of all manner of charming and beautiful things', was sent forth from the great castle's home-like, happy bounds, a houseless wanderer, to seek his fortune amid other scenes. Ere he went, however, Gertrude had contrived to have speech with him once more.

' 0 dear, dear Wolfram she had wept, in bitterest distress, 'thou art going and I shall never see thee more! O woe, woe, woe is me! And I have . prayed our dear Lady so hard, so oft, so long. It surely cannot be that she will neglect my prayer, will forsake me in my distress, no, I cannot think it. And yet, Wolfram, and yet, although, dear love, I am true as knightly steel till death to thee," I cannot see how aught but sorrow and disappointment await us both.'

'Gertrude, mine own sweetheart, the white rose of my life, be comforted. Lady and star of my heart, my lips are sealed as yet by holy vow, I may not tell thee further of myself than what thou dost already know, yet, trust me, dearest lady, all will yet be well. Our Lady hath us in her holy care, what harm, then, can befall the Queen's own company? A bead upon a chain that hath a golden ending ere too long. It is a rosary, beloved, and the rosary of our hopes,' our fears, our prayers and our tears is held in that bright Lady's gentle hand! Fear naught, Gertrude, summer blossom of my heart, 'twill all be joy and gladness yet.'

It was like the silencing of an exquisite chord of music when that silvern singer went away. A beauty had vanished from their lives, like the quenching of a golden sunbeam in a garden shadowed by great trees. At first the Markgraf, sufficiently pleased at having removed the stumbling-block from his daughter's path, pressed none of his new plans upon her. After a year or so had elapsed, however, he judged it time once more to take action.

Therefore negotiations were busily set on foot with the neighboring family with which he had previously been-so anxious to secure alliance. Many friendly visits were exchanged, numerous courtesies given and received, and the young knight upon whom the Markgraf bad fixed a hopeful gaze fell very deeply in love with Gertrude. Lances without number 'were broken by him in her honor, knightly feats and chivalrous deeds were undertaken and gallantry executed to the glory of that pale, gentle, and unmoved maiden star that watched the while so pitifully. Not only were acts of prowess done, those valiant combats so eagerly fought for the love of the beautiful Lady Gertrude by her devoted and ardent suitor, young Count Richard; but, seeing that the lady lent him no encouragement, or hope beyond the rest, others had also joined the ranks, entered the lists to compete for her favor. But all in vain.

Nothing could move or touch the maiden's heart. Brave knights, great lords, men of renown, all were at the youthful Grafin's feet. Heroisms of chivalry, ardours of devotion —all the best and the richest that noble wooers could lay at* her footstool was hers. But the one heart, the one voice, the one face she craved was nowhere,- nowhere amid that brilliant, changing throng, and, not having them, she had naught. The Lady Gertrude's heart had passed once and for ever from her own keeping, and she could not, if she would, give aught further than a tender compassion and a sorrowing sympathy to all those eager, pleading suitors. So gentle, so sweet and kind was her manner, that, sorely and bitterly disappointed as many of them were, not one had room in his heart for aught but the kindest, the most grateful and most knightly reverential thoughts of her.

Thus had matters stood for months and long months, till it was now almost five years agone since the Markgraf Karl had expelled the young minnesinger of whom he had known but little and of whom never a word had been since heard. Worn out and wroth at his daughter's unreasonable caprice and her persistent refusal of every single suitor, lord, baron, or simple knight, who presented himself, the Markgraf at last hit upon a plan to which he made up his mind there should be no possible opposition or chance of refusal.

Therefore it was announced far and wide that, on the Feast of St. John's Nativity, there was to be held at Schloss Bergenstein a great and splendid Passage of Arms or tournament in honor of the fair Grafin Gertrude. To this all brave knights of established fame, suitors for her hand, and all lovers- of chivalry, of the noble profession of arms and of the love of bright ladies were invited to repair. That there might be an array of such champions as was befitting, that this glorious feat of chivalry might have the additional lustre of the knightliest of incentives, it was further made known that the said Queen of the Tourney would, in reward of his devoir, bestow her hand in marriage upon the brave knight who should merit to win so fair a prize by the prowess of his doughty achievements in the lists. Great was the acclaim with which this news was received. Over all Suabia the Castles that knew the name and the beauty of the young Grafinand which one of them did not —rang with the toasts of Lady Gertrude, the Tournament, and the Laws of Chivalry which allowed so fair a settlement of so widely and intimately interesting a matter. It was, indeed, the most popular device which could, in the circumstances, have been adopted. Everyone was well pleased. Everyone had, or at any rate, could think he had, fair opportunity, it was each fighter's skill, ardor and prayer that must win the day for him. If, indeed, it should chance (Otherwise, which the saints fprfend, at least he would

have had opportunity equally with the fortunate winner and the .satisfaction of having essayed his best in true knightly fashion. Gertrude, even, was pleased with the arrangement. For arrangement of one kind'or another would sooner or later have had to be made, and this, at least, afforded some hope, to her also. Surely Our Lady, to whom she had entrusted her happiness, would prove propitious to her and send her the one champion to whom heart as well as hand could be given. Surely her faithful, patient, continual petition would graciously be heard. Wolfram's last words to her,. of gladness to come, be fulfilled. She could not doubt it and her prayers rose ceaselessly, night and day almost, to the pitying Virgin Mother whom she loved so tenderly. Ever and anon, too, she would have hours of completest joy and trust, remembering those other words of Wolfram's, • How shall hurt come to the Queen's own company It was St. John's Day at last. Brilliant and golden, as beseemed midsummer's radiant season, the weather and the crowds of noble visitors the tourney had attracted were alike festive. It was but to last one —the fornoon to be devoted to the trial of skill by single combat,' which was to be restricted to the more celebrated champions, twenty of whom were entered, and the afternoon to the general melee when all the competitors, to the number of eighty or so, were to meet in battle.

Clad all in white from head to foot, rubies at her neck and in her wrought gold girdle, the pale, darkhaired, anxious Queen of the Tournament ascended her throne on the dais prepared for her and her company of lovely ladies. Her appearance was the signal for a prolonged outburst of greeting from that whole gallant assembly, the knights saluting her with lowered lances and the trumpeters filling all the air with silver resonance.

At last, —the cry of the marshals 'Avant!' the the word from the Markgraf who presided, ' Laissez aller!' the fanfare of trumpets sounding the onset. Twenty champions, among the noblest and the best in all the country round, ten on either side, were met in close and deadly contest. The glitter and sheen of their silver panoply as they rushed forward in the sunlight was as lightning, the shock of that tremendous impact as the riders and their horses met impetuously, like thunder. So great was the shock that the opposing forces recoiled again in disorder. Only, however, to rally rapidly and to pursue the fight with greater ardor than before. Swords struck sparks of fire, lances thrust and were dyed ruddy red, broke and were splintered, charger sounded against charger in their mail, swords clanged on shields, on steel breastplates, cries of the heralds, ' Glory of Chivalry, Love of Beauty, Fame to the Brave! Fight on, bold knights ' sounded continually. The arena of conflict was a sparkling and animated scene, the spectacle of valor and skill there displayed riveted the eyes and thrilled the hearts of the delighted and excited spectators. It was a great and glorious fight. Never had so well fought and so long sustained a combat taken place within memory. At last, one after another, the wearied warriors fell out of the ranks until it was plainly yon mighty-limbed champion in dark gray armour who must receive the morning's prizethe Chaplet of Honor. Sick at heart and with a trembling hand the Queen of the Passage at Arms placed on the olive brow of the renowned Markgraf Johan of Hanau the dainty wreath of flowers that seemed such a mockery to her. The afternoon's combat came and went. scarce saw a flash or a glimmer of it, her heart was in her oratory at the foot of her white statue. Johan of Hanau was again acclaimed the victor. How Gertrude performed all the duties required of her, how she passed the intervening hours, how again she came forth, magnificently robed for the great banquet of the evening, she never knew. She was stunned, could realise nothing. As in a dream she entered the great hall on the arm of the champion who had so nobly won her, as in a dream she listened to the gay conversation, the laughter and music around her. Then John of Hanau rose to speak and of a sudden her

senses were freed, that benumbing misery that had frozen her melted. "What was he saying ? She had lost his " first words* :

'I am a widower,' he was continuing, 'bound by holy vow Ito go immediately on crusade to the Holy Land. Yet ere I went I came hither to fight, not for my own hand, yet for mine own flesh and blood. My son Wolfram von Hanau hath long loved the Lady Gertrude, but he, under vow to wander for seven years as Our Lady's minstrel under assumed name, and then for two years more to battle for the Holy Sepulchre in Palestine, had not smallest opportunity of winning her. Now,' returned but recently from the East, sore wounded so that he could not hold lance in rest, he heard of this knightly tournament to be held in honor of so bright and . fair a prize. Forthwith I was entreated so hardly that, to save my son's life, I agreed to take his place, in lawful essoine of his weak body, and to be his champion. For this, I think, none of you bright ladies and true knights, will hold me aught but full assoilzied.'

A murmur ran through the lighted hall. Markgraf Karl's face was a study-, and the Lady Gertrude, to whom life itself seemed to have been restored, clasped tremblingly the jewelled balls and golden chain of her rich rosary. ' ' Yet, not to permit of the shadow of discourtesy towards so fair and sweet a lady,'ll Markgraf John bowed low to the Lady Gertrude as he spoke. ' I have decided thus to settle the matter, if so be the Queen of the Tourney hath nor hand nor heart for me. Waiving the claim she hath vouchsafed to me I would propose a sweeter tourney for her hand, and one whereof all here are peculiarly fitted to judge.

' Wolfram hath great skill upon the harp and can sing lays of love and chivalry with any minnesinger, an art wherein many a brave knight in these halls is master. Then, if the Lady Gertrude permit her devoted

servant to suggest it, let Wolfram and the other good knights and true, suitors for her hand, now stand forth and raise some lay of beauty and of love to her praise. She and Markgraf Karl together with Counts Paul and Richard Fernhof shall then adjudge their merits and the Grafin's lovely hand shall be his prize who singeth best his lady love.' The suggestion, so akin to the generous and poetic spirit of that chivalrous age, was received with applause and delight. And late into the evening the majestic hall echoed and re-echoed to the melody of manly voices mingling with the deep throbbing of the harp. One after another the brave and accomplished singers retired amidst the acclamations and the praise their art had justly evoked. And as yet the judges found it very hard indeed to agree upon one more than another.

Last of all came Wolfram who had but newly arrived. Pale with excitement and from his sickroom confinement, but with eyes glittering and heart a-thrill, in his rich crimson robes he was yet statelier and nobler even than of old. A tense silence prevailed. Then the silence was broken. Sueh_ a gushing of purest melody ! It was an exquisitely plaintive ballad of a lover separated from his love, comparing his sorrow to that of the earth winter-widowed of the sun; the final theme, that of new-budding hope, was like the fresh breathing of a sweet spring wind. It was the revelation of a human soul.

Not the judges alone, but the whole hall, after the first hushed silence that supervened, were unanimous in the decision of the musical contest. There was room neither for doubt nor for the faintest feeling of jealousy.

' Our Lady had us in her care,' said Wolfram to Gertrude, simply. ' And she touched thy harp and lent an echo of her voice to thine, fair lord,' said the oldest knight there. And he voiced the thought that was m the hearts of all. —San Francisco Monitor.