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(Continued from Issue 4)
A German Tale.
By
Celia Moss
Chapter II.
Count Elric left the abode of the Jew with every
bad passion of his heart fully aroused, and determined on vengeance.
An orphan from his boyhood, he had been suffered by
his guardians to grow up in the unlimited indulgence of his passions. A
feudal lord, possessing powers of life and death on his own estates, his
will had been unquestioned. Literature at that time formed no part of a
young noble’s education; for although printing had now been for some
time introduced, books were yet rare, and read by few, save men whose
profession rendered study necessary. Consequently, when not engaged in a
career of arms, gaming was the usual resource of men who found the time
hang heavily on their hands from want of better employment. Elric,
following the example of his young compeers, became early a gamester.
While yet a minor the Count had wedded the daughter of his guardian, a
beautiful, but haughty and pleasure-loving woman. The wealth of the
Count was soon expended, and he became a borrower, until, as we have
seen, a bankrupt even in credit.
Then, instead of blaming his own evil course, he
determined on wreaking his disappointment on his unfortunate creditor.
“What is to be done,” muttered the Count to himself
as he strode along the busy streets, “from Hallevy nothing is to be
extorted. Three days hence the grand tournament comes off at Elsheim.
Adelaide is named Queen of Beauty, and I have promised to run a tilt
with Maurice of Elsheim. I have neither horse nor arms in which I can
appear, and I promised my wife to redeem her jewels from this cursed
Jew, but his obstinacy could neither be overcome by threats nor
promises. By my knighthood! I would rather face a score of men-at-arms
than brave my fair dame’s reproaches, when she hears the ill success of
my mission.” While thus soliloquizing the Count had quitted the Jewry,
and turned into one of the principal streets of the town. It was a fair
day, and booths in which the most tempting wares were displayed were
erected; sparkling jewels and splendid suits of armour arrested Elric’s
attention at every step, and excited still more forcibly the painful
reflections on his poverty which had previously occupied him.
He had stopped before a booth richly ornamented
with foreign stuffs, when his attention was suddenly attracted by the
sound of a woman’s voice speaking in a slightly foreign accent, but so
soft and musical were the tones that he involuntarily turned towards the
speaker. Two females and a young lad were standing in front of the
booth. The boy’s dress and features at once proclaimed his nation, but
the women were plainly habited, and looked like daughters of a
substantial citizen, save that they wore long, thick veils. The veil of
the one that had spoken was raised, so that the Count was enabled to
obtain a good view of her countenance, and never before had he seen one
so lovely. How tame did the fair skin, blue eyes, and flaxen hair of his
Adelaide appear when compared with the rich olive tint, the speaking
eyes, the jetty hair and dimpled cheek of the bright daughter of the
East, and when the maiden, abashed by the gaze of the stranger, suddenly
drew down her veil, Elric dashed it aside, and seizing the terrified
Jewess in his arms, attempted to kiss her ruby lips; but scarcely was
the outrage perpetrated, when the boy, aroused by his sister’s shrieks
and struggles to free herself, struck the Count such a violent blow on
the face that he let go his hold, and staggered backward nearly
senseless from pain. In a moment, however, he recovered himself, and
seizing the boy, who with his sisters was attempting to escape from the
crowds which lead already gathered, exclaimed, “The dog, the vile Jew,
has dared to strike a noble of the empire. By every saint in heaven his
blood alone, spilt drop by drop, shall atone for his deed.”
“Fly, sister, fly,” shouted the brave boy,
regardless of Elric’s threats, “fear not for me;” but, the one who had
not yet spoken threw herself on her knees, exclaiming,
“Oh! my lord, have mercy; he is but a child—he
knows not what he has done.”
“A child, forsooth,” said the count, scornfully,
“methinks for one of his tender years his blows fall right heavily.”
“Nay, my lord, he is but a boy, and knew not that
he committed wrong in protecting his sister.”
“Remove thy veil that I may look capon thy face,”
answered Elric, “I love not replying to veiled pleaders.”
With a trembling hand the Hebrew cast aside her
veil, and displayed to view features less bright and sparkling than her
sister’s, but bearing the impress of a lofty mind in every line, while
her every movement, even in that moment of anguish, showed her a true
descendant of Judah’s stately maidens. But Count Elric, even in his
better moods, was not a being to appreciate the intellectual loveliness
displayed in the countenance of the Jewess, and chafed and angered as he
had been that morning, there was no chance of his foregoing his
vengeance on one of Hallevy’s tribe for a woman’s pleading, though he
little knew how complete was the revenge fortune had afforded him.
“Rise,” he said sullenly, “thy pleadings are vain.”
While the events of which we have just spoken had
taken place, some of the Count’s armed retainers had joined him, and to
these he had committed the charge of the young Jew, and turning from the
suppliant at his feet, he now gave orders, in a loud voice, that they
should bear their captive to his castle of Eberhard, six miles distant
from Worms.
“Forbear, forbear yet a little while,” said the
maiden whose sweet voice had first attracted the attention of the Count.
“Let my father, Judah Hallevy, be summoned. He is wealthy, he will
perchance prevail on thee to spare his child.”
“Judah Hallevy thy father,” exclaimed the count
exultingly. “Ha, ha, ha! fortune has indeed been propitious beyond my
hopes. Come, maiden, thou shalt accompany thy brother, and a noble
ransom,” he added to himself, “shall the Jew pay for his children.” So
saying, he laid his lawless hand on the trembling girl. She uttered a
piercing shriek for aid, and her sister flew to her side, and attempted
to undo the clasp of the Count, who laughed scornfully at her fruitless
efforts. What, however, of her own a strength she could not have
accomplished, was effected by the aid of others. Two young men, who had joined the
crowd at the beginning of the fray, but had hitherto remained silent but
observant spectators, now suddenly rushed through the throng of people,
dashed the Count’s arm aside, and seizing each a maiden in his vigorous
arms, rushed past the surprised spectators, and ere any one had presence
of mind enough to pursue, were lost to sight in one of the dark openings
that branched off from the principal street. Satisfied of the
fruitlessness of any search after the fugitives, the Count, muttering
curses on the rescued and rescuers, secured his remaining prisoner, and
set out with a lighter heart for Eberhard, secure in the gratification
of his avarice and revenge.
CHAPTER III.
Long and anxiously did Hallevy and his wife await
the return of their children. They had gone back to the upper part of
the house, and every sound, every step in the street made their hearts
beat violently, and Judith had requested her husband to go forth in
search of them: when a loud and hurried knocking at the house door
increased their alarm, which was, however, for the moment, dissipated by
the entrance of Zillah and Esther, with their protectors. Esther threw
herself into her mother’s arms, and biding her face in her bosom, wept
bitterly, while Zillah, more calm and collected, from a habit of
controlling her feelings, related to her father the misfortunes that had
befallen her brother, and their own delivery from the same danger by the
two strangers who had accompanied them, and who she had learned were
Hebrews, but lately arrived in Worms.
For a minute of two, Hallevy stood stunned by the
intelligence of the heavy calamity which had so suddenly overwhelmed
him. At length he advanced to the strangers, and gratefully thanking
them for their opportune aid, begged them earnestly to remain under his
roof during the remainder of their stay in Worms. “You owe us no
gratitude,” said the elder of the strangers; “we look upon Jews,
throughout the world, as our brethren, and as sisters we have rescued
your fair daughters from outrage. We thank you for your hospitable
offer,” he continued, “but fear in your present sorrow we should be but
intruders upon you.”
But of a refusal Hallevy would not hear. “Ye are
my brethren,” he said, “and as such shall not quit my roof; and you,
dearest,” he added, turning to his weeping wife, “let not sorrow blind
you to the duties of hospitality. Our boy’s life is in no danger; the
Count’s need is greater than his cruelty, and although it is hard to be
robbed of the fruits of many years’ toil, still gold is better lost than
life. But do thou, in case of danger, go with our children and guests to
the hidden chambers. I will to the Count Elric at Eberhard.” Then
bidding farewell to his wife, children, and guests, Judah Hallevy set
out for the abode of the Count, whither we shall follow him.
Night had fallen when Hallevy reached the castle of
Eberhard, a gloomy feudal fortress, standing on the bank of the Rhine,
close to the shore. It was not till after much delay that Hallevy gained
admittance to the hall of this building, and then he was obliged to
remain amid the gibes and scorn of the brutal retainers of Count Elric,
till it pleased that haughty noble to admit him to his presence. As the
time passed heavily on, Hallevy began to entertain doubts of the
prudence of the step he had taken, in putting his own person, as well
as his child’s, into the power of the Lord of Eberhard. Then he thought
too of the anxious watchers in his sad home, when, just as his feelings
were excited to the utmost, he received a summons to the Count.
The Lord of Eberhard and his lady sat on a
platform, on a seat slightly raised. Both were richly dressed, and
surrounded by attendants, who at a motion from the Count, removed out of
earshot, as the Jew advanced to within a little distance of where he and
the lady sat.
“Well, Jew,” said the Count, sternly, as Hallevy
humbly saluted him, “what seek ye at the castle of Eberhard?”
With difficulty mastering his emotion, so as to
speak calmly. Hallevy replied,
“My son, a mere boy, has, I have been told,
offended my lord in a tumult to-day, and behaved insolently, for which
offence he is at present in your dwelling, and I came, noble Count, to
entreat that thou wouldst pardon the child.”
“Ha, ha!” laughed the Count; “so thou thinkest a
dog of a Jew is to raise His hand against a noble of the empire, and
then, forsooth, because another of his vile race, his father, asks it,
he is to win pardon as easily as if he had spurned a beggar’s brat.
Jew,” continued the Count, vehemently, “dost thou remember our
conversation of this morning, and what I then told thee?”
“I do, noble count, and I am now ready to grant
the loan I then denied, so thou wilt give me the boy’s liberty.”
“Nay,” said the Count, “his life, Jew, his life I
want; for, by the graves of my ancestors! he dies a death of lingering
torture, unless it suit my purpose better to ransom him; and thinkest
thou I am such a fool as for a paltry loan of three thousand crowns, to
give up the hold I have over thee? But I will tell thee what I will do,”
he added, after a pause; “I will drive a Jew-like bargain with thee.
Thy son’s life against ten thousand crowns of gold and the jewels of the
Lady Adelaide, now in thy possession; the gems and gold once in my
hands, the boy is free; otherwise he starves to death in the dungeons of
the castle. Do the terms suit thee?”
“Ten thousand crowns!” echoed Hallevy, sadly; “why,
my lord asks a prince’s ransom for the son of a poor Jew; but,” he
continued, “I will give you half the sum you have named, noble Count,
with the jewels and bonds I have in my possession; more I have not.”
“It were a cheap bargain,” said Elric. “Those bonds
are useless as empty parchments to thee.”
“Not so,” answered Hallevy, “since the honour of a
German noble is pledged to their repayment.”
“Honour to a Jew,” replied the Count; and then he
added haughtily, “I trifle not; I will prove to thee, Hallevy, that I am
in earnest; the ransom, or the boy’s life.”
“I have it not,” groaned Hallevy; “I tell the Count
Elric that unless I coin my heart’s blood l cannot produce so large a
sum.”
For answer, the Count stamped with his foot on the
floor; a door opened at the farther end of the room, and Aaron Hallevy
was dragged into the presence of the noble upon the breath of whose
lips, according to human calculation, hung his life. The boy was deadly
pale, and his clothes hung about him in tatters. Marks of heavy blows
and traces of blood were on his cheeks and forehead, while, as he moved,
the clanking of chains smote painfully on his father’s ear. Aaron
uttered a loud cry when he perceived his father, and sprung towards him;
Hallevy caught him in his arms. Elric signed to his men not to
interfere, as he knew, with his son in his arms, Hallevy would be less
capable of resisting his exactions.
“Hallevy,” said Count Elric, when he had suffered
some seconds to elapse, “you have power to decide your son’s destiny:
starvation in a dungeon, or the ransom I have named.”
“Lady, noble lady, plead for us,” and Hallevy threw
himself at the feet of the Countess, and caught hold of her robe. But
with a gesture of abhorrence, as if she would have trodden on a
loathsome reptile, the haughty woman tore away her robe from his
polluting touch, and deigned no reply. The wretched man rose to his
feet, and catching his son once more in his arms he said, “It is so, if
I beggar myself, to-morrow at noon the money and jewels shall be
delivered; but grant me at least a few moments’ speech vvith my child
ere I return to his sorrowing mother.”
“Ay,” said the Count, “it is thy turn to beg
favours now; go into that room,” he continued, pointing to an open door
that led into a room beyond, “and see that thy conference be brief.”
Attended by the poor boy, who could scarcely drag his heavy chains after
him, Hallevy entered the room and closed the door.
“Would I had died ere I had exposed thee to this
trouble,” said Aaron, in his own beautiful language; “and yet,” he
continued, his eyes flashing fire at the recollection, “he insulted my
sister; he dared to pollute her lips with his unholy kisses; could I
stand by and see this?”
“Thy action was natural,” answered Hallevy, with a
deep sigh, “but, alas, my brave boy, thou must learn, nay, the fault is
mine, that I taught thee not the lesson earlier. A Jew in this Christian
land must have no feelings, no affections; wrong, insult, and blows are
our portion. We are but suffered to accumulate wealth for these proud
Christians to wring from us by torture and suffering. How long, O Lord,
how long,” he continued, “shall the blood of thy servants be shed?”
The entrance of the Count prevented farther
conversation, and straining his son once more to his heart, Hallevy bade
him trust in his father’s love, and blessing him fondly and fervently,
departed in sadness.
“To-morrow at noon, then,” said the Count, as
Hallevy bade him good night, “I will bring the boy to Worms, and see
that the ransom be prepared.”
Anxiously had Judith and her daughters awaited
Hallevy’s return. They had been joined by Esther’s betrothed husband, a
wealthy merchant, to whom they had related the unfortunate events of the
day. He remained with the watchers, whose fears had become almost
insupportable, when hour after hour passed, and Hallevy returned not.
Night passed and morning came, and when at last Hallevy’s step sounded
on the stairs, every one flew to meet him; but who can describe the
mother’s feelings when she found he was alone? Hallevy had been detained
all night at the city gates, which he found closed on his return from
Eberhard, and, overcome by fatigue and anxiety, he threw himself into
the nearest seat, and covering his lace with his hands, wept bitterly,
and with such agony as alone can wring tears from the strong heart of
man.
“He is dead, my child is murdered!” cried Judith;
“Judah, husband, speak to me! my boy, oh, my boy!”
“Our child lives, he is safe,” replied Hallevy, and
in a few words he related his interview with the Count, and its results.
“Bless my Judah, bless thee,” said his wife
earnestly; “our child’s life is indeed more precious than gold, yet it
is much that this greedy noble demands.”
“It is indeed a heavy sum,” replied Hallevy, “and
although I have promised, I know not where to find half the sum. My
wealth, as you know, is scattered abroad in various ventures, and this
sum must be paid to-day at noon.”
“Father,” cried Zillah, coming forward and speaking
in a tone of impassioned earnestness, and with an emotion she rarely
suffered to appear, “thou hast carefully treasured for my use the wreck
which thou didst save from my deceased father’s property; it amounts, as
thou knowest, to half the ransom: take it for my brother.”
“And as for me,” said Esther, “on my account did my
brother incur this danger; therefore, take for his rescue the sum thou
hast purposed for my dowry: and if Phineas loves me not well enough to
take a portionless bride, I will remain for ever unwedded.”
“He does love thee, my Esther, a thousand times
better for thy affection to thy kindred;” and leading the blushing girl
forward, he added, “Hallevy, give me thy child, and let the gold be paid
for the brother who incurred for her so much.”
“Bless you both; my child!” exclaimed Hallevy,
fervently, “I accept thy generous offer. But for thee, my Zillah, God
forbid I should wrong the orphan. Why should I despoil thee to spare my
own property? I would rather sell all I possess than take one coin from
thee.”
Zillah threw herself into Hallevy’s arms, and wept.
“Am I not also thy child?” she said. “When the cruel people of Frankfort
slew my father, didst thou not protect my mother and myself from their
murderous fury? and when I wept and called for my father, didst thou not
say, ‘I will be thy father, poor orphan?’ and since that day have I not
been as a child to thee?—have not I looked upon thee with the love and
reverence I should have paid to the dead?”
“Thou hast, my Zillah! my beloved!” replied
Hallevy, moved by the emotion of one whose feelings were usually so
controlled by her judgment as to make her appear cold and wanting in
affection to a common observer. “And since my refusal has pained thee,
thou and Esther shall lend me sufficient to redeem thy brother; but,
with the blessing of Heaven, both shall be repaid.”
The two strangers had not been unmoved by the
scene. The elder one had more than once brushed the tears from his
eyes, which were riveted on Zillah’s beautiful and impassioned
countenance with an expression full of admiration.
(To be continued.) |
