It was as if a judge had been called by a crying child to
settle a nursery quarrel. He told Ebbo that, being a free Baron of
the empire, he must keep his bounds respected; he was free to take
and hang any spoiler he could catch, but his bulls were his own
affair: the League was not for such gear.
And a knight who had ridden out of Stuttgard with Ebbo had told him
that it was no wonder that this had been his reception, for not only
was Schlangenwald an old intimate of the Markgraf, but Swabia was
claimed as a fief of Wurtemburg, so that Ebbo's direct homage to the
Emperor, without the interposition of the Markgraf, had made him no
object of favour.
"What could be done?" asked Ebbo.
"Fire some Schlangenwald hamlet, and teach him to respect yours,"
said the knight.
"The poor serfs are guiltless."
"Ha! ha! as if they would not rob any of yours. Give and take,
that's the way the empire wags, Sir Baron. Send him a feud letter in
return, with a goodly file of names at its foot, and teach him to
respect you."
"But I have sworn to abstain from fist-right.
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