Ah! lad, thou hast crossed a
case of true love there! Canst not brook even such a gallant
stepfather?"
"I may not," said Ebbo, with spirit; "for with his last breath
Schlangenwald owned that my own father died not at the hostel, but
may now be alive as a Turkish slave."
"The devil!" burst out Theurdank. "Well! that might have been a
pretty mess! A Turkish slave, saidst thou! What year chanced all
this matter--thy grandfather's murder and all the rest?"
"The year before my birth," said Ebbo. "It was in the September of
1475."
"Ha!" muttered Theurdank, musing to himself; "that was the year the
dotard Schenk got his overthrow at the fight of Rain on Sare from the
Moslem. Some composition was made by them, and old Wolfgang was not
unlikely to have been the go-between. So! Say on, young knight," he
added, "let us to the matter in hand. How rose the strife that kept
back two troops from our--from the banner of the empire?"
Ebbo proceeded with the narration, and concluded it just as the bell
now belonging to the chapel began to toll for compline, and Theurdank
prepared to obey its summons, first, however, asking if he should
send any one to the patient.
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