The Wilder Jäger and the Baroness.
There was a rich and powerful baron who owned a broad patrimony
in South Tirol, Baron di Valle. He was not only one of the richest
and most powerful, he was also one of the happiest, for he had the
prettiest and most sensible woman of Tirol for his bride. The brief
days were all too short for the pleasure they found in each other's
society, and they were scarcely ever apart the whole day through.
Once, however, the Baron went on a hunting party through a part of
the country which was too rough for the Baroness to follow him. The
day was splendid, the scent good, and the Baron full of enthusiasm
for his favourite sport; but what egged him on more than all these,
was the sight of a strange bold hunter who bestrode a gigantic mount,
and who dashed through brake and briar, and over hill and rock,
as if no obstacle could arrest him. Baron di Valle, who thought he
was the boldest hunter of the whole country-side, was quite mad to
see himself outdone; nor could he suffer this to be. Determined to
outstrip his rival, he spurred his horse on, so that he might but
pass him somewhere; but the Wilder Jäger, for it was he, always kept
on ahead, and though the brave Baron kept close to his heels, he was
never able to pass him by.
They had long outstripped all the rest. But all this time the Baron
had taken no note of whither he went; now he found himself in the midst
of a thick forest of tall fir-trees, with their lower branches cut off
because they were planted so thick and close together that there was no
room between them, and their tops were intergrown so that they formed
one compact mass, excluding the very air and the light of day. The Wild
Hunter stopped his mad career before this barrier, and then, turning,
pretended for the first time to be aware of the Baron's presence.
"What do you want here?" he exclaimed, fiercely, his rolling eyes
glaring like fire. "How dare you invade my domain!" and with that he
blew a mighty blast on his hunting-horn, at sound of which a whole
troop of wild huntsmen, habited like himself, and with similar fiery
eyes, appeared suddenly, surrounding the Baron.
"Stand back!" cried the Baron, in a commanding tone, as the wild
huntsmen dismounted and prepared to seize him.
"No one commands here but I," said the Wilder Jäger. And then he added,
addressing his men, "Seize him, and carry him off!"
"Hold!" said the Count, but speaking more humbly than before, for he
saw he must yield something to the necessity of the case; "I suppose
there is some ransom upon which you will let me off? I have wronged
you in nothing, and meant no offence. I admired your brave riding,
and I thought what one brave man might do, another might."
"Since you take that tone," said the Wilder Jäger, "I will do what
I can for you. I will let you ransom yourself at one price. You must
know, that it is not you that I want at all; I only lured you here as
a means of getting hold of the Baroness, and had you been uppish and
violent, I should have kept you in chains for the rest of your life,
while I married her. But as you know how to keep a civil tongue in
your head, I will show you that I can appreciate courtesy. So now
I give you permission to return, to be yourself the bearer to your
wife of my conditions.
"Tell her, then, that I have won her for my own, and she belongs
irrevocably to me; it is useless that she attempt to escape, for you
see that my people are countless, and violence is of no avail against
me. But I am a good sort of fellow, and as I love her, I don't want to
do any thing to alarm her, so long as she shows no foolish resistance."
"But the ransom? You spoke of a ransom just now," interposed the Baron,
hastily; "what, about that?"
"All in good time," replied the Wilder Jäger--"give a fellow time
to speak. The only mode of ransom is this--let the Baroness guess
my name. I give her three guesses of three words each, and an
interval of a month. But if she doesn't succeed, remember, she is
mine! this day month I appear and claim her. If, in the meantime,
she thinks she has made the guess, and wants to satisfy herself as to
its correctness"--and he laughed a ghastly laugh of scorn, as if to
impress the Baron with the hopelessness of the idea--"she has only
to come to the ilex grove on the border of this forest which marks
the frontier between your territory and mine. If she stands there,
beside the centre tree, and blows this horn--see what a pretty little
gold horn it is, that I have had studded with diamonds and rubies--just
fit for her pretty little fingers!" he added, with a grin of scorn--"at
sound of her voice I shall be with her on the instant."
The Baron was not one to have tolerated such talk from any human
being soever, but he felt the necessity of vanquishing his temper this
time--a more difficult matter ordinarily than vanquishing a foe--for a
dearer life than his own was at stake; and if he could not altogether
save the Baroness from the power of the Wilder Jäger, he could take
counsel with her as to the means of finding out the hidden name,
and at least spend with her the last days that he could call her his.
Accordingly he took the horn, and stuck it in his belt without a
word. And indeed no word would have availed him, for the whole troop
of the wild huntsmen had vanished as it came, and he was left alone.
There was no difficulty in finding his way back by the path by which
he had come, for it was plainly marked by the havoc of the surrounding
vegetation the wild chase had cost. And though he now put spurs to
his steed that he might reach home without losing an hour more than
he could help of the companionship of his beloved wife, he now for
the first time apprehended how swiftly he had come, for, riding the
utmost of mortal speed, it took him three days to get back to the ilex
grove which marked the boundary of his own territory. Hence it was
still half a day's journey to reach his castle. But while he was yet
a great way off his loving wife came out to meet him, full of joy at
his approach, for since the rest of the hunt had come home without him
she had done nothing but watch from the highest turret of the castle,
that she might catch the first sight of him returning; her thirsty
eyes had not been slow to discern his figure as he hastened home.
Great was her amazement, however, to find that, instead of returning
her greeting with his wonted delight, he turned his head away, as if
he dared not look at her, and wept. She rode beside him all the way
home, but he still kept silence, for he could not bear to render her
sorrowful with the message of which he was the bearer. But he could
conceal nothing from her loving solicitude, and soon he had told
her all.
Being a woman of prudent counsel and strong trust in God, she was much
less cast down, however, than he had expected. Though bewildered at
first, and seeing no way out of the difficulty, she yet declared she
was sure some way of escape would be opened to her, it only remained
to consider where they should find it. And never a word of angry
recrimination did she utter to remind him that it was his mad vanity
had brought them to this plight.
The Baron felt the full force of this forbearance, for he did
nothing but reproach himself with his folly. But the fresh proof of
her amiability only occasioned another pang at the thought of the
approaching separation.
Still no good counsel came to mind, and the Baroness herself began
almost to lose heart. The Baron had abandoned the hunt and all his
sports, and sat gloomily in the ancient seat of his ancestors. The
Baroness sat among the flowers of her oriel window, her embroidery
in her hand; but her mind was far away over the tops of the dark
green trees, looking for some bright thought to bring deliverance
to her from above. Every morning and evening they knelt together in
the chapel of the castle, and prayed that a spirit of prudence and
counsel might be given them.
Ten days had passed, and no good thought had come. The Baron reclined
gloomily in the ancient seat of his ancestors, and the lady sat
among the flowers of the oriel window gazing over the tops of the
high dark fir-trees, full of hope that some wise counsel would be
given her. Suddenly she rose and clapped her hands, and her ringing
laugh brought the Baron bounding to her side.
"I have found it, Heinrich!" she exclaimed; "I am sure I have found
the name! Doesn't the Wilder Jäger live among the tall fir-trees?"
"Yes; among the tall fir-trees is his dwelling."
"And didn't he speak of three names?"
"Yes; he said your guess must include three names."
"Then I have it, Heinrich! What more natural than that he should be
called from the names of the trees which form his palace? As I was
gazing over the tops of the high dark trees the words came into my
mind, 'Tree, Fir, Pine'--those will be the three words. Come, and let
us go out to the ilex grove, and be free to belong to each other as
of old!"
She was so lively that the Baron caught some spark of her hopefulness,
but he was too far sunk in despondency to enter into her joy all
at once. Nevertheless, it was not a moment when, if ever, he would
have thwarted her, so he ordered the horses to be saddled, for it was
still early morning. And they rode together to the ilex grove which
was the boundary of the Wilder Jäger's domain; the Baroness striving
every minute by some sprightly speech to distract the Baron, and the
Baron utterly incapable of rousing himself from his gloomy fears.
The Baroness was the first to reach the grove; in fact, she had ridden
on a good way in advance, that she might have it out with the Wilder
Jäger before her husband came, so that she might greet him on his
arrival with the news that she was free.
Merrily she sounded the jewelled horn, and before its sound had died
away the Wilder Jäger was at her side. He no longer looked dusty,
wild, and fierce, as during the Baron's mad chase. He seemed a man
of noble presence, carefully dressed in a green hunting-suit, with a
powerful bow in his hand, and a beautiful boy to hold his arrows. In
his belt was a jewelled hunting-knife of exquisite workmanship, and
to a cord across his shoulder hung a golden horn of similar pattern
to that he had sent the Baroness, and, moreover, as a further act of
gallantry, he wore a scarf of red and white, the favourite colours
of the Baroness. A jewelled cap shaded the sun from his brow, which
a red and white plume gracefully crested.
The Baroness looked astonished to find she had nothing more formidable
to meet, and felt that had she not already been the wife of the
Baron di Valle, she would not have found it so great a calamity to
be obliged to marry the Wilder Jäger.
The Wilder Jäger was not slow to perceive that the impression he
had produced was good, and bowing towards her with courtly mien,
paid her a respectful salutation, and immediately added,--
"Your eyes are so clever, fair Baroness, that I very much fear you
are going to pronounce my name, and rob me of the happiness I had so
nearly bought! Spare me, therefore, lovely lady--say not the word! but
come with me into the shady pine-forest, where you shall have every
thing heart can desire--the noblest palace, the widest domain, and
unlimited command; retainers without number, pleasures without alloy,
and every wish gratified without condition!"
He approached her as he spoke. His eyes sparkled no longer with the
angry fury which had thrilled the Baron, but with a mild fire of
tenderness and devotion. Nothing more attractive and winning than his
whole appearance and manner could be conceived, and for a moment the
Baroness had almost forgotten the less accomplished--but, oh! more
sincere--passion of her Heinrich.
It was only for a moment. The weakness passed, she instantly drew
herself up with dignity, and stepped back against the friendly ilex.
"It was not to hear such words I came," she said, "but to pronounce
those which are to free me from ever having to listen to such
protestations again----"
"Oh, say them not! say them not!" said the Wilder Jäger, throwing
himself at her feet. "Any thing but that! Name any wish by fulfilling
which I can win your favour; name any difficult task by accomplishing
which I can prove myself worthy of your love----"
"My love," said the Baroness, striving to speak coldly, "is another's
already; you see, there is none to be won from me. But interrupt me
no more. I have guessed your name, to discover which was to be the
price of my freedom. It is----"
The Wilder Jäger clasped her feet in despair, entreating her not
to pronounce it, but she went on, with a clear, confident voice,
to utter the words,--
"Tree! Fir! Pine!"
The Wilder Jäger looked up as if he did not quite understand what
she meant.
"Now, let go your hold, and let me pass, for I am free!" she said,
resolutely.
"'Free,' say you?" said the handsome Cobbold, with
astonishment. "Free? did you mean you thought that was my unknown
name?"
"Yes," replied the lady, in a voice of conviction.
"Oh, dear, it is nothing like it!" he answered, with glee, and yet
not without a delicate regard for her disappointment. "No, that is
not it; nor is it likely you should ever arrive at it. So days of
happiness are before us yet." He had no need to kneel to her longer,
but it was joy to him to be at her feet.
"Dare not to speak so before me!" replied the Baroness, trying to
tear herself away. "I know of no happiness, except with Heinrich; and
I am persuaded that, though I have failed this time, it will yet be
given to me to find the word which shall restore me to him completely."
The Baron arrived as she finished speaking; and though he saw by the
sorrowful look which now had possession of her bright face, and the
triumphant mien of the Cobbold, that she had failed, and that she was
still under the Wilder Jäger's spell, he was so incensed to find him
in such an attitude that he drew his sword, and would have closed with
him then and there, but the Wilder Jäger blew one note upon his horn,
and in an instant he was surrounded, as before, by his myrmidons,
who unarmed him and held him bound upon the ground, while the Cobbold
himself approached to seize the hand of the Baroness. A fiery fury
took possession of him, and sparks darted from his eyes which fell
smouldering among the twigs of fir. Powerless to defend his wife
by force, the Baron once more mastered his anger, and reminded his
adversary courteously of his promise to leave them at peace for the
interval of a month.
"I am always ready to answer you in whatever tone you elect to
adopt," said the Wilder Jäger, rising, and leaving the side of the
Baroness. "You see, it is useless to attempt force against me; but when
you behave with due consideration, so will I." At a sign from him the
sprites loosed the Baron's bonds, gave him back his sword, and held
his stirrup with the most respectful care, while he mounted his horse.
"Depart, then, unharmed," said the Wilder Jäger, "since you set so
much store on prolonging your suspense. I should say, it was wiser
to make the best of a bad bargain and submit to your fate at once,
with grace. However, I have given my word and won't go back from it. I
restrain my power over you till the full end of the month; and, what
is more, I not only give the lady three guesses, but as many as she
likes. For," he added, with a cynical leer, "she is as little likely
to guess it in thirty as in three; while every time that she chooses
to essay the thing, it gives me the happiness of seeing her." And he
turned away with a peal of wild laughter which made the lady shudder.
The sprites vanished as they had come; and the Baron and his wife
rode sadly home, without the courage to exchange a word.
If the Baroness had for a moment been won by the comely presence
and devoted admiration of the Wilder Jäger, she had now seen enough
reason to fear his treacherous humour, and to dread her impending
fate as much as at the first.
They spent the rest of the evening in prayers and tears in the chapel
of the castle, and the next evening, and the next; and the days flowed
by as before, but more sadly, and with even less of hope. The Baroness
scarcely now dared raise her eyes so high as the tops of the tall
dark trees; they fell abroad over the beautiful landscape stretched
out beneath them, and the good gifts of God cropping up out of the
ground; and she thought how beautiful was that nature to which she
must so soon say adieu!
Thus ten days passed without a gleam of expectation. Suddenly she
rose and clapped her hands; and her silvery laugh brought her husband
bounding to her side.
"I have it this time, Heinrich!" she said.
And the Baron listened anxiously, but trusted himself never to speak.
"Said you not that the Wilder Jäger's domain was entirely among the
tall dark trees?"
"So it seemed to me it was," responded her husband.
"But I certainly discerned through the forest patches of ripe golden
grain. Saw you them not too?"
"The first time I rode too fast to notice them, but I do think on
this last journey I saw such here and there by the wayside."
"No doubt," continued the lady, "it is hence he takes his name;
these small patches of golden grain are more worth than all the
vast forests. Order the horses, for I have guessed his name! It came
to my mind just now, as I looked over the harvest-fields stretched
out yonder.
"Wheat, Oats, Maize--that will be his name!"
The Baron knew her counsel had often proved right when he least
expected, and even disputed it, and though he was now too desponding
to expect success, he was likewise least inclined to dispute her
word. So he ordered the horses round, for it was yet early morning,
and they rode to the ilex grove.
The Baroness, whose hope seemed to rise as she got nearer the goal
of the journey, was full of spirit and cheerfulness, and, finding it
impossible to work up the Baron to the same expectation as herself,
rode on to accomplish her work ere he arrived.
One note of the jewelled horn brought the Wilder Jäger to her presence.
As she had failed before, he had less fear of her success this time,
and he was proportionately less subservient and submissive.
"So you think you are come to give me my dismissal, beautiful
Baroness? But you have no reason to repulse me so--be assured I mean
it well with you; and though there is no limit to my power over you,
I shall never treat you otherwise than with honour," he said, with a
little scornful laugh which suited his fine features exactly, and made
him look handsomer than before. And as he spoke so, his haughty tone,
not unmixed with warmth and admiration, thrilled her with the notion
that, after all, if it were not for her troth plighted to the Baron,
it would not be so very dreadful to owe obedience to one who knew
how to command so gracefully.
But it was only for a moment. The weakness passed, she drew herself
up with dignity, and, retreating against the support of the friendly
ilex, said,--
"Silence! and remember your promise to leave me at peace till the
fatal month is out. I cannot listen to you. And now for your name----"
The Cobbold bowed, with a half-mocking, half-respectful inclination,
as if forcing himself to listen out of courtesy, but secure that she
would not guess right.
"Wheat! Oats! Maize!" said the Baroness, with a positive air.
The Cobbold stared comically, as if doubting whether she was in
earnest; and at last, as if to relieve her out of politeness,
he replied,--
"Oh, dear no, that's not at all like it!"
The Baroness hung her head in despair; then, drawing herself up again,
she said,--
"How do I know you are not deceiving me? You say this is not your name,
and I have to believe you--but suppose I maintain that it is it?"
"You are not fair, beautiful Baroness," replied the Wilder Jäger,
with a charming dignity. "I have never deceived you, nor ever would
I deceive so noble a lady! what I have promised, I have kept; but in
this case I have no means of deceiving you--great as is my power, that
is one thing beyond it. Could a mortal, indeed, discover and pronounce
my name in my presence, I could not stand before him an instant. But
this it is not given to mortals to know, and that is why I proposed
this difficulty to you. Should I have paid you so bad a compliment,"
he added, with his cynical laugh, "as to render it possible that I
should lose so great a prize?"
The Baron rode up while he was saying this, and shrank dumb with
despair at the cruel words and the positive tone in which they were
uttered.
Without condescending to exchange a word with the Cobbold this time,
he lifted his wife on to her palfrey and rode away with her in silence.
It was now all over. His despondency even gained the Baroness, and she
ceased to rack her brain with the hope of finding the inconceivable
name. Her eye not only dared not raise itself to the tall dark
trees--it had not even power to range over the landscape. With her
head sunk upon her breast, she sat silently among her flowers in her
oriel window, nor cared even to look at them. Only in the morning
and the evening they knelt together in the chapel of the castle,
and prayed that the calamity might pass away yet.
The days went by, and now the last but one had come; and the Baroness
trembled, for her imagination pictured the Cobbold coming to carry her
away. But her courage did not forsake her even now, and she proposed
to go out into the forest to meet her fate, as more noble than waiting
for it to overtake her.
The Baron, too dispirited to discuss any matter, and indifferent to
every thing, now that all he cared for was to be taken from him, gave
a listless consent. The next morning, having prayed and wept together
in the castle chapel, they set out on their mournful pilgrimage,
the young wife led as a lamb to the sacrifice.
The flowers bloomed beneath their feet, and the sun shone warm
overhead, the birds sang blithe and gay--all nature was bright and
fresh; but with heavy hearts they passed through the midst, nor found
a thought but for their own great sorrow. As they came to the borders
of the forest, however, the Baroness discerned the cry as of one in
distress. Forgetting for the moment her own agony, her compassionate
heart was at once moved, and she begged her husband to turn aside
with her, and find out the poor wretch who pleaded so piteously. In
a little time they had followed up the sound, and they found one of
the Wilder Jäger's men tied in front of a lately lighted fire. In a
few minutes more the heaped-up wood would have been all in flames,
and then the luckless wight must have been slowly roasted! At a word
from the Baroness, the Baron cut his bonds; and then they inquired
what was the occasion of his punishment. "Oh, it don't want much to
get a punishment out of the Wilder Jäger!" was the answer.
"Is he so very severe, then?" asked the Baroness, her cheek blanching
with fear.
"At times, yes; it depends how the fancy takes him--if he is out of
humour he spares no one. If he were not so violent and arbitrary,
I would do you a good turn for that you have done me; but I dare not,
his anger is too fearful."
The more he descanted on the Wilder Jäger's barbarity, the more the
Baroness prayed that he would tell her the word that would save her;
but he dared not, and all her instance was in vain. "And yet there
might be a means," he said, for he was desirous of doing a service
to his deliverers.
"Oh, speak! tell us what we can do--no matter what it is, we will do
it!" answered both at once.
"Well, if you happen to overhear it, I shan't have told you, and yet
it will serve your turn just as well;" and with that he walked on
close in front of them, singing carelessly as he went.
"How are we to 'overhear' it, Heinrich?" said the Baroness, after
a bit.
"He seems to have forgotten us," replied the Baron, in despair. "I have
been expecting him every minute to turn round and give us a hint of
how he meant to help us; but it is just like every one you do a favour
to--when they have got what they want, they forget all about you."
They walked on in silence; and the fellow kept on close in front of
them, singing as before, and always the same verse.
At last the Baroness got wearied with hearing the same thing over
and over again, and she began repeating the words over to herself,
mechanically. She could not make them out at all at first, for he
had a rough, abrupt articulation, but by dint of perseverance in an
occupation which served as a distraction to her agony, she at last
made it out, word by word:--
"The Wild Huntsman's betrothed (though he is not tamed)
To a lady fair
Driven to despair.
If she only knew he's Burzinigala named!"
"'Burzinigala named!' exclaimed the Baroness, with the ringing laugh
of former days, and clapping her hands merrily.
"I have it all right this time, you may depend, Heinrich!" and she
laughed again.
The Baron was too delighted for words--he embraced his wife in his
joy; and they walked on with a very different mien from what they
wore before. The first joy over, they turned to thank their helper;
but he had already disappeared, climbing over the tops of the trees
to get out of sight of the Wilder Jäger's eye for as long as might be.
There was no more lingering now, they hasted on, anxious only to
proclaim their triumph.
The ilex grove was soon reached, and the jewelled horn quickly produced
the Wilder Jäger.
To-day he was habited with greater care even than on the former
occasions, and there was also still more assurance in his manner,
and still more forwardness to flatter.
"Well, lady fair," he said, with a mocking air, "do you deem you have
guessed my name this time?"
"Really, it is so difficult," replied the lady, "that how can you
think I can hope to succeed? Besides, why should I wish to do what
would deprive me of so charming a companion?"
The Wilder Jäger in his turn was perturbed. Nothing could have made
him happier than to hear such words from her lips, could he have deemed
them sincere; but there was an irony in her tone and a playfulness in
her countenance which showed that her heart was not in her words. Yet
he felt convinced she could not discover his name; and so he knew not
what to think, and scarcely what to say. And the Baroness, delighting
in his confusion, continued teasing him, like a cat with a mouse.
After a good deal of this bantering, in which the Wilder Jäger got
quite bewildered, the Baroness rose majestically.
"Have we not had enough talking?" she said, with emphasis; "when are
you going to take me home--Sir Burzinigala?"
It would be impossible to describe the effect of this word. He rose
from the earth with one bound. The beauty, the calmness, the commanding
air, which had at one time charmed the Baroness, had all fled. Wild,
savage, and furious as he had first appeared and tenfold more, he now
showed; and the sparks flew from his eyes on all around. Through the
thick tops of the trees he passed, they hardly knew how; and soon the
only trace of him left was that of the sparks that smouldered on the
dry heath.
It only remained for the Baron and Baroness to return home, locked
in each other's arms. And they continued loving each other more than
ever before to the end of their days.