Chapter 2

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_ CHAPTER TWO

Eric, on the morning of his departure from home, had a private leave-taking with his father. The Knight, though an old soldier, was a peaceably-disposed man, yet in spite of all he could do he had foes and troubles. A certain Baron Schenk, of Schweinsburg, unjustly claimed rights over a portion of the Knight's property. It was clearly impossible for the Knight to accede to the Count's demands, for had he done so fresh ones would instantly have been made until the Count might have claimed possession of Lindburg itself. The Count had often threatened to come and insist on his claims at the point of the sword, but the Knight had reminded him that as two people could play at that game he might find that he gained nothing by the move. Still he occasionally received a message which showed him that the Count had not forgotten his threats, and this always troubled him, not because he feared his enemy, but because he wished to be quiet and at peace with all his fellow-men. He had a long talk with his son and gave him much good advice. The two understood each other thoroughly.

"My son," he said, "you are going forth into the world; and will meet with a great variety of characters. Treat your fellow-men with a kindly regard and do them all the good in your power, but put your whole trust in God alone. While you cling to Him He will never forsake you--I know that you are honest and single-hearted. Do that, and I have no fear for you. Take my blessing, Eric. Write when you can and tell me all about Dr Martin and his companions. I wish that I were young enough to go to the University with you; I would give much once more to hear that man speak as he did at Worms."

Eric set forth not as a poor scholar, on foot, but as the son of a Knight and a Noble of the land, on horseback, accompanied by Hans Bosch, who led a sumpter-horse loaded with his baggage. Both were armed, as was necessary in those times, with swords and pistols; the latter being somewhat large and unwieldy weapons. Eric, as befitted his station, had learned the use of his sword, and Hans was an old soldier who had grasped a pike for nearly half a century. Hans and Eric had always been good friends. The old soldier was not ignorant of what was going on in the world, but he had not as yet made up his mind which side to choose. He suspected the bias of his master, and that of his mistress was very evident. As yet, however, he clung to the old opinions. Eric, though high-spirited and manly, was thoughtful and grave above his years, and Hans respected his opinions accordingly. He had before been at the University of Erfurth, but the fame of Wittemburg had reached him, and, what had still more influence, several of the books written at Wittemburg, and he had been seized with a strong desire to migrate thither.

Hans could not read himself, but he was inquisitive. He plied his young master with questions, to which Eric very willingly made replies.

"Then you put no faith in the Pope, nor believe that he is the only rightful ruler of the Church?" observed Hans in reply to a remark made by his young master.

"I have been led to doubt the supremacy he claims from all I have read," answered Eric modestly. "More especially do I believe that he is not a descendant of the Apostle Peter from what I have read in my Greek Testament. I there find that Saint Paul, on one occasion, thus wrote of this supposed chief of the Apostles: 'When Peter was at Antioch, I withstood him to the face, because he was to be blamed,' (Galatians two 11.) Peter was also sent especially to preach to the Jews and not to the Gentiles. Paul, when writing from Rome, sends no salutations from him, which he would have done had Peter been there; indeed he never once mentions his name. The third or fourth Christian Bishop of Rome speaks of Saint Paul having suffered martyrdom under the emperors; but, by the way he speaks of Saint Peter, evidently believing that he suffered martyrdom elsewhere in the east, and does not allude to his having been at Rome. If, therefore, the very foundations of the pretensions of these august Pontiffs are defective, what can we think of the rest of their claims? However, when I have been some time at Wittemburg, I hope to know more about the matter."

"But, my dear young master, if you upset the foundation of our faith, what else have we to build on? I, for one, as an old soldier who has seen the world, say that we can not go on without religion," exclaimed Hans, in a tone which showed the perturbation of his mind.

"That is right, Hans," answered Eric, "but, my old friend, we do not destroy the real foundation of our faith, we only overthrow the false and cunningly-devised superstructure. The foundation of our faith is in the sufficient sacrifice once made for man by Jesus Christ, the Son of God, on the cross, and the complete justification of all who repent and put faith in that sacrifice. That is what Dr Martin Luther teaches. He says that no man should venture to come between the sinner and God; that Christ is the only one Mediator--the go-between, you understand-- that He is all-loving, and all-merciful, and all-kind, that by any one else interfering He is insulted, and that all indulgences, penances, works, are the devices of the Evil One to make man lose sight of the full, free, and perfect redemption which Christ has wrought for us."

"That sounds like a good doctrine," observed Hans, thoughtfully, "the 'pfaffen' will not like it, because it will deprive them of their influence and the chief portion of their gains; but how do you know that it is the true one, my young master?"

"Because it is in the Word of God, the Bible. And I am very certain that God, who has done so much for us, would not have left us without a clear statement of His will--clear rules for our guidance, and therefore I believe that the Bible is the Word of God," observed Eric.

Hans rode on in silence. He was meditating on his young master's remarks. They had not gone more than a league or two when some sharp cries reached their ears. They came from some person before them. They rode on, and arrived in sight of a big youth who was belabouring with a thick stick, in the middle of the road, a young boy. The boy had something under his cloak, which the youth was insisting on his keeping concealed. Eric's generous feelings were at once excited. He could never bear to see the strong tyrannising over the weak. He rode forward and demanded of the big lad why he was thus ill-treating the little one. The youth did not reply, but looked up sulkily at him. Eric turned to the little fellow.

"This is the reason, noble sir," answered the boy, "he is my 'bacchante,' and I am a poor little 'schutz.' We are poor scholars seeking education at the schools. For the protection he affords me he insists that I shall provide him with food. Lately his appetite has been very great, and I have not got enough for him, and to-day he insisted on my stealing this goose, and hiding it under my cloak, that if it was discovered I might be punished and he escape."

"So, my master, and is this the way you afford your protection?" exclaimed Eric, looking angrily at the big bacchante. "What is your name, my little schutz?" he asked of the boy.

"Thomas Platter," was the answer. "I come from Switzerland, and have for long been wandering about, finding it hard to live in one place for want of food."

"Then, Thomas Platter, know that I am going to Wittemburg, where there is a good school; and, if you desire it, you shall remain with me and pursue your studies, and if you ever have to beg for bread, it shall be for yourself alone. Are you willing to accept my offer?"

"Gladly, most noble sir," answered the boy, throwing down the goose and springing out of the way of the big bacchante, who sought to detain him. Hans, who once had a little boy who died when he was of the age of Thomas Platter, approved of his young master's generous offer, and undertook to carry the lad behind him on his horse to Wittemburg. The bacchante grumbled and looked very angry at this, and threatened to come after Thomas and carry him off; but Eric advised him to make no attempt of the sort as the boy was now under his protection. They rode on and left him grumbling and threatening as before. Thomas seemed highly pleased at the change. He was evidently a sharp, clever little fellow, though simple-minded and ignorant of the world. He was the son of a poor shepherd, but the desire to gain knowledge induced him to quit his father's cottage and to go forth in search of that education which he could not gain at home. He had met with all sorts of adventures, often very nearly starving, now beaten and ill-used by his bacchante, a big student, from whom he received a doubtful sort of protection, now escaping from him and being taken care of by humane people, wandering from school to school, picking up a very small amount of knowledge, being employed chiefly in singing and begging through the towns to obtain food. Such was the type of a travelling student in those days. Frequently he had companions, three or four schutzen and twice as many bacchantes, the former performing, in fact, in rough style, the part of fags to the older students. The big bacchante, from whom Thomas had escaped, was a relative who had promised to befriend him. It was in the unsatisfactory manner described that he had performed his part.

The next day, as Eric and his companions approached the town of Jena in Thuringia, they overtook a solitary horseman. From his appearance he seemed a knight, as he had a long sword by his side, and a red cap on his head, and was habited in hosen and jerkin, with a military cloak over his shoulders, though he was without armour. He exchanged courteous salutations with the young noble, and enquired whither he was going. On hearing that it was Wittemburg he seemed well pleased.

"Yes, I am migrating thither from Erfurth, for I desire to study under one whom I consider the great light of the age, Dr Martin Luther," answered Eric.

"Then you have never met Dr Martin," said the stranger.

"Not personally, but I know him by his works," answered Eric. "That way methinks we may know a man far better than those we may see every day who have written nothing for our instruction. Still I desire to go to Wittemburg that I may drink at the fountain's head, and listen to the words which fall from the Doctor's own lips."

"Young man," said the stranger, turning a pair of dark, flashing eyes upon Eric, "be assured that if you drink at the Fountain Head--the pure spring from which Dr Martin is wont to drink, you will do well--that is, the Word of God, the Holy Scriptures. Of them you can never drink too much, and yet no fountain can afford so satisfactory a draught. But beware how you imbibe knowledge from other sources; from the traditions of men; from mere human learning. It is the too common want of caution in that respect which leads so many men astray. Seek for the enlightenment and guidance of the Holy Spirit, and give your whole heart and soul to the study of the Scriptures. In that way you will most assuredly gain the best of all knowledge."

Talking in this way, old Hans riding up close behind them, to catch the words which fell from the stranger's mouth, they approached the town. Before, however, they could reach it, a fearful storm, which had been threatening for some time, burst upon them. They pushed on as fast as their steeds could move, to obtain, as they hoped, shelter in the town, and now Eric perceived that the stranger, whom he had supposed to be a knight, was no very great horseman, and more than once he feared, when a vivid flash of lightning made the animal he bestrode spring on one side, that he would be thrown to the ground; still he kept his seat, nor seemed to think of danger, every now and then addressing Eric on some subject of deep interest.

On entering the town they found every one keeping holiday, for it was Shrovetide, and mummery and feasting, and amusements of all sorts were going forward. No one would attend to them, nor could they obtain accommodation of any sort in the town, even where they could dry their damp clothes. At last they were advised to proceed on through the town, where outside the gates, on the other side, they would find an hostelry, the "Black Boar," at which they would obtain accommodation. They were not misled. The landlord received them courteously, and seemed, by the affectionate greeting he gave their companion, to be well acquainted with him. Eric considered that it was too early in the day to stop, and as his and his attendant's horses were fresh, he proposed, after taking some refreshment, to proceed on another stage or two further. During the repast the stranger continued the conversation which had been interrupted by their approach to Jena. Little Thomas Platter, who was sitting at the table as well as Hans, listened with attentive ear to all that was said. When Eric rose to depart, the stranger bade him a cordial farewell.

"I too am on my way to Wittemburg," he observed, "we may meet there, I hope, ere long, and you will then judge whether the tales that have been told of Dr Martin are true or false."

Eric was very much interested in the stranger, and puzzled to know who he could be.

"He is a man of learning and a man of consequence," he observed as he rode along. "I would that I possessed one quarter of his learning. How his countenance lights up when he speaks, and how the words flow from his lips. He is a man to move his fellow-creatures by his eloquence, or I mistake his looks and mode of utterance."

"What think you, my young sir, if he should prove to be Dr Martin himself?" said Hans.

"It more than once occurred to me that such might be the case; but is Dr Martin likely to be out in these parts, and would he be habited in such a costume as that worn by this stranger?" asked Eric.

"It was Dr Martin notwithstanding that," exclaimed the little Platter; "you will see, my masters, when we get to Wittemburg, you will see."

This incident added very much to the interest of the journey. They rode on for some leagues, when, as they were not far off from the place where they purposed resting for the night, they saw a band of horsemen approaching them. It was easy to see by their dress and general appearance that he who rode at their head was their lord, with two companions of inferior rank, and that the rest were his retainers. They had a particular swaggering look which showed that they belonged to a class of persons common in those days, who followed the fortunes of any lawless noble who could employ them, and were ever ready to commit any deed of violence their master might command. Eric kept as close to one side of the road as he could to avoid giving cause of offence. They eyed him narrowly as he passed, and especially looked at Hans, who wore the livery of his house.

"Who can those people be?" asked Eric. "Their looks are far from pleasant, nor did they deign to give us the usual salutation which courtesy demands as they rode by."

"Alas! I know them well," answered Hans. "He who rode at their head is no other than Baron Schenk of Schweinsburg, your father's greatest and, I may say, only enemy. _If_ he guesses who you are, my dear young master, I fear that he will not let us escape unmolested; for he is a man who delights in blood and violence, and were not our Castle a strong one, and defended by brave hearts and willing hands, it is my belief that he would long ago have attacked it, and carried off all he could find of value within. My advice, therefore, is that we put spurs to our horses, and place as great a distance as we can as soon as possible between him and ourselves. Hold on, little Platter, away we go!"

"Your advice is good, Hans," said Eric, as he urged on his steed. It was likely to be of little avail, however, for at that instant the clatter of horses' hoofs was heard, and looking round they saw that half-a-dozen of the Baron's retainers were spurring after them. This, of course, only made Eric and his attendant more anxious than ever to escape. Their horses were good ones, and they might still distance their pursuers.

"Let me drop, kind sir," exclaimed little Platter; "I am only delaying you, and it little matters if I fall into the Baron's hands; I am not worth killing!"

Hans laughed, and answered, "You would break your limbs if I let you go, and your weight is but as that of a feather to my old steed Schwartz. Hold on boy--hold on! We have promised to protect you, and we are not the people to cast you off at the first sign of danger."

They galloped on as fast as their steeds could put feet to the ground; but they had already performed a good day's journey, and were somewhat tired. Their pursuers' horses, on the contrary, were fresh, it seemed, and when Hans looked over his shoulder, he saw at once that they were gaining on them. Still he was not a man to give in without an effort. "We'll try it on a little longer, my young master, and then face about and show them the edges of our swords. Maybe, like bullies in general, they are cowards, and if we put on a bold front, they will make off." This counsel was too good not to be followed. Still the Baron's retainers were gaining on them. A wood was on either side. They might dash into it, and make their escape, but that was not then a mode of proceeding to suit Eric's taste. "Now then we'll do as you suggest, Hans," he exclaimed. Pulling up their steeds, they turned sharply round and drew their swords. This, however, did not produce the effect they had hoped. They now saw, indeed, that the remainder of the band were coming up. At this moment little Platter let himself slip from behind Hans to the ground, saying, as he did so, "I can be of no service to you here; but I can, maybe, if I get away."

Before the horsemen came up he had darted into the wood, where, had they thought it worth while searching, they would have had no little difficulty in finding him.

"There is no use fighting, I fear, my young master," said Hans, unwillingly sheathing his sword.

"We are outnumbered, and it will only be giving our foes an excuse for slaying us should we attempt to resist them."

Eric, seeing the wisdom of the old soldier's advice, likewise returned his sword into the scabbard. When the Baron's retainers came and surrounded them, he demanded, in a firm voice, what they required.

"We are to conduct you to our lord. He will question you as he thinks fit," answered one of the men, seizing Eric's bridle. Another took hold of Hans' bridle, and, with a couple of men on either side of them, they were conducted along the road.

They had not gone far, when they were met by the Baron.

"Ah, my young sir, you are I understand Eric von Lindburg; I have at length got a hostage for your father's good behaviour," he exclaimed, exultingly. "You will find pleasant lodging in the Castle of Schweinsburg, for the next few years or more of your life, if your father does not yield to my demands. I have long been looking for this opportunity, now it has arrived. Ha, ha, ha!"

Eric kept a dignified silence, merely saying, "I am in your power, Baron Schweinsburg. I cannot choose, but do what you command."

This calm reply somewhat annoyed the Baron.

"Ah, we shall find you a tongue ere long, young sir," he observed, with a savage expression, as they rode along.

The party went on at a rapid rate till it was nearly dark, when they stopped at an hostelry to refresh themselves, a strong guard being placed in the room into which the prisoners were conducted. The moon then rising, they continued their journey, and at length, perched on a rocky height, the grey walls of the old Castle of Schweinsburg rose before them. A steep pathway led them up to a bridge thrown across a deep chasm, which almost completely surrounded the building, and had rendered it impregnable to the assaults of foes armed only with the engines of ancient warfare. In the court-yard the Baron ordered them to dismount; and four armed men conducted them up a winding staircase to a room at the top of a high tower, from which, unless provided with wings, there seemed but little chance of escaping.

In a short time their luggage was brought up to them, followed by a tolerably substantial supper.

"The Baron does not intend to starve us, at all events," observed old Hans. "Come, my dear young master, eat and keep up your spirits. Matters might have been much worse. Perhaps we may ere long find some means of escaping, let the Baron guard us ever so carefully. At all events, let us hope for the best." _

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