CHAPTER III
He was not long in seeking the bright star, which he indeed felt was destined henceforth to guide the course of his whole life. The delicate form approached him not far from the entrance; weeping softly, it seemed to him, in the light of the full moon which was just rising, and yet smiling with such infinite grace, that her tears were rather like a pearly ornament than a veil of sorrow. In deep and infinite joy and sorrow the two lovers wandered silently together through the flowery groves; now and then a branch waving in the night-air would touch the guitar on the lady’s arm, and it would breathe forth a slight murmur which blended with the song of the nightingale, or the delicate fingers of the girl would tremble over the strings and awaken a few scattered chords, while the shooting stars seemed as if following the tones of the instrument as they died away. Oh, truly happy was this night both to the youth and the maiden, for no rash wish or impure desire passed even fleetingly across their minds. They walked on side by side, happy that Providence had allowed them this delight, and so little desiring any other blessing that even the transitoriness of that they were now enjoying floated away into the background of their thoughts.
In the middle of the beautiful garden there was a large open lawn, ornamented with statues and surrounding a beautiful and splashing fountain. The two lovers sat down on its brink, now gazing at the waters sparkling in the moonlight, and now delighting in the contemplation of each other’s beauty. The maiden touched her guitar, and Heimbert, impelled by a feeling scarcely intelligible to himself, sang the following words to it:
“There is a sweet life linked with mine,
But I cannot tell its name;
Oh, would it but to me consign
The secret of that life divine,
That so my lips in whispers sweet
And gentle songs might e’en repeat
All that my heart would fain proclaim!”
He suddenly paused, and blushed deeply, fearing he had been too bold. The lady blushed also, touched her guitar-strings with a half-abstracted air, and at last sang as if dreamily:
“By the spring where moonlight’s gleams
O’er the sparkling waters pass,
Who is sitting by the youth,
Singing on the soft green grass?
Shall the maiden tell her name,
When though all unknown it be,
Her heart is glowing with her shame,
And her cheeks burn anxiously,
First, let the youthful knight be named.
‘Tis he that on that glorious day
Fought in Castilla’s proud array;
‘Tis he the youth of sixteen years,
At Pavia, who his fortunes tried,
The Frenchman’s fear, the Spaniard’s pride.
Heimbert is the hero’s name,
Victorious in many a fight!
And beside the valiant knight,
Sitting in the soft green grass,
Though her name her lips shall pass,
Dona Clara feels no shame ”
“Oh!” said Heimbert, blushing from another cause than before, “oh, Dona Clara, that affair at Pavia was nothing but a merry and victorious tournament, and even if occasionally since then I have been engaged in a tougher contest, how have I ever merited as a reward the overwhelming bliss I am now enjoying! Now I know what your name is, and I may in future address you by it, my angelic Dona Clara, my blessed and beautiful Dona Clara! But tell me now, who has given you such a favorable report of my achievements, that I may ever regard him with grateful affection?”
“Does the noble Heimbert of Waldhausen suppose,” rejoined Clara, “that the noble houses of Spain had none of their sons where he stood in the battle? You must have surely seen them fighting by your side, and must I not have heard of your glories through the lips of my own people?”
The silvery tones of a little bell sounded just then from a neighboring palace, and Clara whispered, “It is time to part. Adieu, my hero!” And she smiled on the youth through her gushing tears, and bent toward him, and he almost fancied he felt a sweet kiss breathed from her lips. When he fully recovered himself Clara had disappeared, the morning clouds were beginning to wear the rosy hue of dawn, and Heimbert, with a heaven of love’s proud happiness in his heart, returned to his watchful friend at the garden gate.
CHAPTER IV
“Halt!” exclaimed Fadrique, as Heimbert appeared from the garden, holding his drawn sword toward him ready for attack. “Stop, you are mistaken, my good comrade,” said the German, smiling, “it is I whom you see before you.” “Do not imagine, Knight Heimbert of Waldhausen,” said Fadrique, “that I mistake you. But my promise is discharged, my hour of guard has been honorably kept, and now I beg you without further delay to prepare yourself, and fight for your life until heart’s blood has ceased to flow through these veins.” “Good heavens!” sighed Heimbert, “I have often heard that in these southern lands there are witches, who deprive people of their senses by magic arts and incantations. But I have never experienced anything of the sort until to-day. Compose yourself, my dear good comrade, and go with me back to the shore.” Fadrique laughed fiercely, and answered, “Set aside your silly delusion, and if you must have everything explained to you, word by word, in order to understand it, know then that the lady whom you came to meet in the shrubbery of this my garden is Dona Clara Mendez, my only sister. Quick, therefore, and without further preamble, draw!” “God forbid!” exclaimed the German, not touching his weapon. “You shall be my brother-in-law, Fadrique, and not my murderer, and still less will I be yours.” Fadrique only shook his head indignantly, and advanced toward his comrade with measured steps for an encounter. Heimbert, however, still remained immovable, and said, “No, Fadrique, I cannot now or ever do you harm. For besides the love I bear your sister, it must certainly have been you who has spoken to her so honorably of my military expeditions in Italy.” “When I did so,” replied Fadrique in a fury, “I was a fool. But, dallying coward, out with your sword, or—”
Before Fadrique had finished speaking, Heimbert, burning with indignation, exclaimed, “The devil himself could not bear that!” and drawing his sword from the scabbard, the two young captains rushed fiercely and resolutely to the attack.
Different indeed was this contest to that previously fought by Fadrique with Lucila’s husband. The two young soldiers well understood their weapons, and strove with each other with equal boldness, their swords flashing like rays of light as now this one now that one hurled a lightning thrust at his adversary, which was with similar speed and dexterity turned aside. Firmly they pressed the left foot, as if rooted in the ground, while the right advanced to the bold onset and then again they quickly retired to the safer attitude of defence. From the self-possession and the quiet unremitting anger with which both the combatants fought, it was evident that one of the two would find his grave under the overhanging branches of the orange-tree, which were now tinged with the red glow of morning, and this would undoubtedly have been the case had not the report of a cannon from the harbor sounded through the silence of the twilight.
The combatants paused, as if at some word of command to be obeyed by both, and listened, counting to themselves; then, as each uttered the number thirty, a second gun was heard. “It is the signal for immediate embarkation, Senor,” said Don Fadrique; “we are now in the emperor’s service, and all dispute ceases which is not against the foes of Charles the Fifth.” “Right,” replied Heimbert, “but when there is an end of Tunis and the whole war. I shall demand satisfaction for that ‘dallying coward.’” “And I for that in intercourse with my sister,” said Fadrique. “Certainly,” rejoined the other; and, so saying, the two captains hurried down to the strand and arranged the embarkation of their troops; while the sun, rising over the sea, shone upon them both in the same vessel.
CHAPTER V
The voyagers had for some time to battle with contrary winds, and when at length they came in sight of the coasts of Barbary the darkness of evening had closed so deeply over the sea that no pilot in the little squadron ventured to ride at anchor on the shallow shore. They cruised about on the calm waters, waiting for the morning; and the soldiers, full of laudable ambition for combat, stood impatiently in crowds on the deck, straining their longing eyes to see the theatre of their future deeds.
Meanwhile the heavy firing of besiegers and besieged thundered unceasingly from the fortress of Goletta, and as the night darkened the scene with massy clouds, the flames of burning fragments became more visible, and the fiery course of the red bullets was perceptible as they crossed each other in their path, while their effects in fire and devastation were fearful to behold. It was evident that the Mussulmans had been attempting a sally, for a sharp fire of musketry burst forth suddenly amid the roaring of the cannon. The fight was approaching the trenches of the Christians, and on board the vessels none were agreed whether the besiegers were in danger or not. At length they saw that the Turks were driven back into the fortress; the Christian army pursued them, and a shout was heard from the Spanish camp as of one loud Victory! and the cry, Goletta was taken!
How the troops on board the vessels—consisting of young and courage-tried men—burned with ardor and their hearts beat at the glorious spectacle, need not be detailed to those who carry a brave heart within their own bosoms, and to all others any description would be lost. Heimbert and Fadrique stood close to each other. “I do not know,” said the latter, speaking to himself, “but I feel as if to-morrow I must plant my standard upon yonder height which is now lighted up with the red glow of the bullets and burning flames in Goletta.” “That is just what I feel!” said Heimbert. The two angry captains then relapsed into silence and turned indignantly away.
The longed-for morning at length dawned, the vessels approached the shore, and the landing of the troops began, while an officer was at once dispatched to the camp to announce the arrival of the reinforcements to the mighty general Alba. The soldiers were hastily ranged on the beach, they put themselves and their weapons in order, and were soon standing in battle array, ready for their great leader. Clouds of dust rose in the gray twilight, the returning officer announced the approach of the general, and as Alba signifies “morning” in the Castilian tongue, the Spaniards raised a shout of rejoicing at the coincidence, as at some favorable omen, for as the knightly train approached the first beams of the rising sun became visible.
The grave and haggard form of the general was seen mounted on a tall Andalusian charger of the deepest black. Having galloped once up and down the lines, he stopped his powerful horse in the middle, and looking along the ranks with an air of grave satisfaction, he said, “You pass muster well. That is well. I like it to be so. It is plain to see that you are tried soldiers, in spite of your youth. We will first hold a review, and then I will lead you to something more agreeable.”
So saying, he dismounted, and walking toward the right wing he began to inspect one troop after another in the closest manner, with the captain of each company at his side, that he might receive from him accurate account upon the minutest particulars. Sometimes a cannon-ball from the fortress would whizz over the heads of the men; then Alba would stand still and cast a keen glance over the soldiers before him. But when he saw that not an eyelash moved, a smile of satisfaction passed over his severe pale face.
When he had inspected both divisions he again mounted his horse and once more galloped into the middle. Then, stroking his long beard, he said, “You are in good order, soldiers, and therefore you shall take your part in this glorious day, which is just dawning for our whole Christian armada. We will attack Barbarossa, soldiers. Do you not already hear the drums and fifes in the camp? Do you see him advancing yonder to meet the emperor? That side of his position is assigned to you!”
“Vivat Carolus Quintus!” resounded through the ranks. Alba beckoned the captains to him, and assigned to each his duty. He usually mingled German and Spanish troops together, in order to stimulate the courage of the combatants still higher by emulation. So it happened even now that Heimbert and Fadrique were commanded to storm the very same height, which, now gleaming with the morning light, they at once recognized as that which had shone out so fiercely and full of promise the night before.