Zodiac Stories/Sagittarius

by Blanche Mary Channing

SAGITTARIUS, THE ARCHER

HE little lord of Wilhelmsburg was nine years old. He stood at a window of the great castle where he and his mother had been left while his father followed the Emperor Frederick to the Crusade, and looked longingly out into the green forest. He wanted to be out there with his new bow and arrows.

At a table heaped with heavy books sat a grave-faced man in a black robe, reading.

The boy came up to him.

"Father Johann!" he said impatiently, "can I not go out now? The sun is drying up all last night's rain."

The man in black looked up with a smile.

"You find it a hard task to wait?" he said.

"It is growing so late!"

"Not very late, my son. And you have not yet paid your respects to your lady mother."

"I will go to her at once."

"You have not yet been called to her presence."

Lord Conrad tapped his foot upon the oak floor. frown came on his young face.

"It is tiresome to be kept in a leash always, as the hounds are kept," he muttered. "But some day I shall be a man, and then I shall be free."

"To be able to control one's self—that is the only true freedom," said his tutor.

Conrad could make no reply, for at this moment the door was opened, and a servant announced,—

"The Duchess awaits his lordship."

The boy's brow cleared, and he ran to his mother's room with a light heart.

Lady Hildegarde lay upon a couch, her eyes full of loving welcome.

"A hundred birthdays be granted thee, my son!" she whispered, tenderly pressing him to her breast, and kissing his cheek. "See what I have made for thee."

She held up a silk scarf beautifully embroidered, and fringed with gold.

"It is splendid, Mother! Shall I bind it on my arm like a favor? Yes—and then I shall be your knight, to fight for you!"

He fell, laughing, on one knee, and the Duchess, leaning over, tied the scarf about his velvet sleeve.

"My little knight!" she said tenderly.

At that instant the baying of dogs was heard from the courtyard below, and Conrad sprang to the window.

"Hubert is ready! Hubert is waiting for me! I must go to shoot with my beautiful new bow. Oh, Mother, you don't want me to stay, do you? I am longing to try my arrows."

The Duchess looked wistfully at his eager face.

"Go, my son, if Hubert is ready," she said, but a bright tear fell, as she looked after him.

Half an hour afterwards Conrad stood leaning on his bow in a forest glade. He looked discontented and vexed. Old Hubert was picking up the three arrows which he had lately shot, and which had, this time, and each time before, missed their target.

"You don't know how to shoot," said a strange voice near by.

Conrad turned sharply, and saw a strongly-built lad of about his own age, brown-skinned and brown-eyed, with shabby clothes and bare feet.

"Who are you?" asked the young heir of Wilhelmsburg angrily, "and how dare you say that to me?"

"I am Dolf Schmidt, and I always dare tell the truth," replied the stranger with a coolness which made the other more angry.

"Take that, then!" cried Conrad, striking at him fiercely.

"And take you that!" said the sturdy Dolf, calmly prostrating his enemy on the grass.

A moment after, a big hand lifted the brown-faced boy, shaking him as a dog shakes a rat.

Hubert had hurried back as Conrad fell, and seized Dolf in an iron grasp.

"Wretch!" cried the old huntsman, I 'll soon teach you how to treat your betters!" His heavy dog-whip swung threateningly in the air as he spoke.

Dolf looked at it, and set his teeth. He would not beg for mercy. He would not utter a cry or shed a tear.

But as the lash came down on his half-naked back, Hubert's arm was stayed. Conrad had risen and come to the rescue.

"Stop, Hubert!" he called commandingly. "He meant no harm, and I struck the first blow. Here, Dolf Schmidt! Take my bow and shoot an arrow if you will. I like you."

Dolf said nothing, but he looked at Conrad with sparkling eyes.

Then he took the bow and arrow.

"What shall I shoot at?" he asked.

"That brown bird on the bough there!" said Conrad, pointing to a small object on the top of a tall tree some way off.

"Nay," said the ragged archer. "It were a pity to kill the bird. She has a nest in that tree, it is likely. I will shoot the branch from under her, and not hurt so much as a feather."

So saying, he laid an arrow in place and pulled the string.

The dart fled like a hunted thing through sun and shade until it struck the twig under the brown bird. Up flew the startled creature, unharmed,—down fell the broken spray. Conrad clapped his hands.

"Good!" he cried generously;

"Very good," said the voice of his tutor, who had joined the group unnoticed.

"And who are you, my son?" said he kindly to Dolf.

"The cowherd's boy, Father," Hubert interposed.

"And how came you here?" went on Father Johann to the child.

"I was going home, and stopped to watch the young gentleman shoot."

"And to tell the young gentleman that he did not know how?"

Dolf blushed and looked down.

"Never mind," said Conrad, his cheeks as red as the others'. "He is right. I do not shoot well, and he does. Courage, Dolf! Here is another arrow."

"I must go now," said the cowherd's son. "My father will scold me. Good day, sirs!"

He made a gesture of respect, and turned to go.

"Come again to-morrow!" called Conrad.

"Yes," said Father Johann.

"It will be an excellent thing for Lord Conrad," said Father Johann to the Duchess that evening. "I know the child's parents. They are decent, honest folk, and the boy is like them. It is written in his face."

The Duchess looked doubtful.

"I reverence your judgment, Father," she said, "but my darling boy—can a rude peasant lad be a fit playmate for one brought up as he has been?"

"Dear lady," replied Father Johann, with his winning smile, "it is exactly because of the way your son has been brought up that I think Dolf a good companion for him."

"At least, you will not leave them alone until you have studied the boy carefully!"

"I promise that," said the tutor willingly.

Dolf presented himself at the castle on the day following. His mother had made him fine with an old red necktie, and had combed his tangle of black curls, and scrubbed his face till it shone.

But Dolf was aware of many drawbacks,—his ragged sleeve—his bare feet, and when a big man-servant ushered him into the present of the Duchess herself, he could hardly lift his eyes from the floor.

The lady soon sent him away, pitying his confusion.

Outside the room, alone with Conrad, Dolt found his voice again.

"Is she your mother?" he asked.

"The Duchess? Yes, of course."

"She is beautiful as an angel from heaven. You must love her much."

"Of course," said Conrad again, rather stiffly. Then, with a change of tone,—"Come and see the horses! I will show them to you."

Dolf was ready. Once in the stable, he crept into the stalls, patting the horses, stroking their necks, talking to them.

"Take care, Dolf!" cried Conrad as the boy approached a powerful black horse placed apart from the rest. "That is a new comer, and no one but the head groom dares to touch him. He is dangerous."

"I dare," said Dolf, setting his teeth. "See!" The little heir watched, pale and frightened, as the black-haired boy climbed to the manger above the horse's head, and softly brought his brown cheek close down to its sensitive right ear.

A moment after, and Dolf's bare legs were astride the creature's unsaddled back, while he fondled the sleek neck lovingly.

In yet another moment he had loosed the tether, and "Emperor" was free.

"How dared you? How did you do it?" whispered Conrad, as if afraid of breaking a spell.

"A secret!" said Dolf smiling. "Now watch me ride around the courtyard!"

"You could not do it!"

"See!" Dolf's eyes shone. He tossed the curls out of them, and pressed his feet against Emperor's sides. Away went the bonny black steed, twice and thrice around, and Dolf laughed, and all the grooms ran to the castle-yard at the noise of galloping hoofs. The dogs barked, the women-servants who peeped out at windows screamed—there was a mighty hubbub.

Then the ragged rider checked his steed, whispering into its ear as before, rode it back to its stall, and tethered it fast.

And after that every one began to talk and wonder and scold, and the head groom came up to Dolf with an angry look.

But Conrad stood his friend.

"Be quiet, all of you!" he cried imperiously. "Dolf Schmidt can ride Emperor if he choose, for he is a better horseman than any man here." And, throwing one arm about his companion's frieze jacket, he led him back to the castle.

Father Johann was hurrying out with an anxious face as the boys entered.

"It is all over!" said Conrad, laughing. "Dolf is best archer and best horseman. Now we shall see in what else he excels. Come up-stairs to my playroom, Dolf! You may play with all my playthings."

He led the way up a flight of winding stairs, into a turret room. Two pretty silky-haired dogs ran barking to him, and making friends with them, Dolf forgot to be shy of the tutor.

Conrad expected the little cowherd to express great surprise at the beautiful things he showed him, one by one,—things his father had brought from far-away lands, but Dolf cared for nothing so much as the dogs; and presently he was down on the floor, playing with them and teaching them tricks.

"Your horse of chased silver with jewels for eyes is well enough," he said, "but for my part give me something that is alive."

Father Johann smiled when he heard this, but he said nothing. He watched Dolf through the day, without seeming to do so, and he liked the free-spoken lad well.

And it was settled that evening between the Duchess and the tutor that Dolf Schmidt should come and live at the castle, and be trained for Lord Conrad's body-servant.

The scheme suited everybody.

To be sure Dolf rebelled at first against hose and shoes, and fretted sadly that he could not climb trees in his new clothes.

He broke all bounds at times, and returned from truant expeditions into the woods with torn doublet and berry-stained hands.

But these things were only the natural uprisings of a brave and hardy nature, and he was soon restored to favor.

The worst piece of mischief into which he fell was the prompting of Conrad to a boating excursion in an old barrel on a deep pond in the forest. This adventure nearly cost both boys their lives. Lord Conrad, by his wilful desire to steer the odd craft,—a desire which Dolf resisted with muscular force,—overturned the barrel in mid—ocean, and only his young servitor's presence of mind and ability to swim saved him. Dolf was nearly as much at home in the water as out of it, and so managed to bring the little Duke safe to shore though Conrad's struggles made it a hard task.

Happily old Hubert was not very far away, and got them back to Wilhelmsburg with due speed.

This, the gravest of Dolf's misdoings, was also his last. He was severely punished, but his worst punishment was to have Conrad's gentle mother say,—

"I am more grieved than angry, because I trusted my son to you,"—and he gave himself no rest until, after long perseverance in well-doing, he one day heard her say,—"Dolf, I can trust you again."

Ten years passed by, and Conrad was Duke. His father had fallen in battle, his gentle mother had died not long after, and the lad of nineteen was lord of castle and lands.

Father Johann yet lived, but he was now very feeble. And Dolf was there—still bold and daring, but not so rash as of old.

A true and faithful servant he had proved, and the young Duke loved him. But Conrad was the same as he had ever been; and a new pleasure could absorb him now as it had at nine years—a new friend influence him now as then.

It had fallen that, on a certain summer's day, a young minstrel, or "minnesinger," had come caracoling up to the castle on a piebald pony, and, being admitted to the presence of Lord Conrad, who was in a dull mood, had charmed him with music and merry talk, and straightway won the boy-Duke's impulsive heart. Conrad was young, and the castle lonely and dark and grim, and Ludwig the minstrel knew the way to make time pass right merrily.

So Conrad kept him from day to day, and the days turned to weeks, and still there was nothing said of departure.

Dolf had distrusted the gay stranger from the first. He was too generous to harbor a mean jealousy, and when, on his showing his dislike of Ludwig on one occasion, his master had charged him with such a feeling, his quick temper had led him to make a reply which greatly offended the Duke's pride.

Thus a coldness had fallen between the two which seemed likely to last.

But, though Dolf was hurt, his loyalty to Conrad never faltered. He kept the closer watch on Ludwig the minnesinger, and his mind was busy while he kept silence.

His heart swelled when his old companion's eyes passed by him to beam on the new favorite, but his devotion was unchanged.

Father Johann, confined to his own suite of rooms, was much concerned when the matter came to his ears, and pleaded with Conrad.

"It is all Dolf's jealousy," said the young Duke, laughing. "That fellow is over-pampered, and snaps at rivals like a lady's lap-dog. Believe me, good Father, Ludwig is a friend worth the having. He sings like a bird in June. I will bring him to sing before you, and you will laugh with me at Dolf's dulness."

But somehow, from one reason or another, Ludwig never sang for Father Johann, and Dolf, keenly noticing his every action, distrusted him the more.

Then, one morning, came the minnesinger to the Duke with a long face, saying that he must tarry no longer, but must forth again to seek his fortune, in three days' time.

Conrad vowed he should not go, but Ludwig vowed that he must, and begged of his kind patron one last mark of favor,—that he would ride with him to the border of his domain,—they two alone.

Now it happened that at this time the country was in a very unquiet state, the barons warring against one another, and the strong crushing the weak underfoot.

Conrad Von Wilhelmsburg had more than one powerful enemy, and the most dangerous was a Count Walther Von Altenbauer, who had long looked on the little duchy with greedy eyes. Count Von Altenbauer was many years older than the Duke, and Conrad's advisers had warned him to be ready for some stealthy attack, but light-hearted Conrad laughed at danger.

And when the minstrel begged that he would ride alone with him to the border, he readily agreed.

Dolf was much distressed when he learned of it. He knew that remonstrance with his master was useless, but he resolved to follow when the two set out.

On the evening before, he went to Hubert's son, now occupying his father's place, a stout and sturdy man at arms.

"Look you here, Albrecht," he said, drawing him aside. "To-morrow, the Duke rides alone with the minnesinger to the border. Now, be ruled by me. I like not this Ludwig—nor do you, I well know. Have a score of strong fellows, armed, hid by the hollow oak at the crossroads. I myself will follow the riders on foot, keeping out of their sight, and if I see aught go wrong, I will shoot an arrow at top of the oak. Dost catch my meaning?"

Albrecht's small blue eyes flashed fire. He understood.

The part of the border chosen by Ludwig was the eastern, adjoining the land belonging to one Friedrich the Black, a friend and ally of Count Walther Von Altenbauer.

The riding path lay chiefly through woods in full leaf, and, as the horsemen passed through them, Dolf was able to keep them in sight whilst half hidden himself.

Conrad was particularly affectionate towards his favorite on this last morning, and his kind words seemed to fall on grateful ears, for the minstrel often raised a saffron-tinted kerchief to his eyes, and bore himself with a melancholy air. But as he neared the border, his spirits seemed to lighten. The watchful Dolf saw him raise his head and glance eagerly about. The two horsemen came out into an open space at the instant, and Ludwig rode on a few paces, suddenly wheeled his horse around, and, riding back, stooped as if to pick up something. It was the saffron colored kerchief.

Suddenly, from a low thicket sprang out a dozen armed men and surrounded the Duke. But, quickly as it all happened, Dolf's arrow was quicker still, as it flew to summon Albrecht and his men to their master's aid.

A second arrow struck the foremost of the enemy, and a third and fourth made a breach through which Dolf rushed, dagger in hand, to the Duke's rescue.

Conrad, recovered from his first surprise, was, now fighting vigorously in his own defense, and, with Dolf's help, he kept the Altenbauer retainers at bay until Albrecht's band came upon the scene.

This reinforcement soon decided the fray, and in a few minutes the enemy were in full retreat.

As Conrad was putting his dagger back in its sheath, two of Albrecht's men came forward with a prisoner. It was none other than the minnesinger, his lute gone, his gay clothes torn, his face pale with terror, as he stood before the man he had betrayed.

Conrad gazed scornfully upon him.

Then he turned to Dolf, who stood apart.

"Come hither!" he cried. Dolf approached with a firm but modest mien.

His young master laid a hand gently upon his shoulder.

"Good and faithful friend," he said, "I have done wrong in trusting a stranger rather than thee whom I have so long known and so often proved. This stranger is now at thy mercy. Do what thou wilt with him."

Dolf's breast heaved, and for a moment he seemed unable to speak. Then he raised his dark, stern eyes to the captive's face and pointed across the border with the single word, "Go!"

As the minstrel slunk away, Conrad threw his arms about his old comrade's neck, saying,—

"For the future none shall ever supplant thee, truest of friends and best of archers!"