“Good luck, stranger!” exclaimed the watcher. “Our Chieftain's daughter, Irmgard, is herself here looking after the cattle; if she is gracious to thee, thou mayest be sure of good care.”

“Whic of them dost thou name?” asked the stranger.

“There she is, giving orders to the maidens; thou mayest easily know her.”

The noble maiden stood by the cart which, with two oxen harnessed to it, was to convey the contents of the milk cellar to the Chieftain's house; also butter firmly beat down in casks made of the wood of the wild plum tree, and cheese well seasoned with caraway seeds, packed in green leaves.

“Go to her, comrade, and say that a stranger approaches her as a suppliant.”

“I fear to address the daughter of the Chieftain, so long as her father has not granted me a seat at his hearth. And as thou art disposed to be friendly, speak well of me as far as thou canst.”

The stranger sprang from the horse, and from the distance bowed low to the young lady.

Her golden tresses, which hung in ringlets about her stately figure, formed a framework to the marked features of the youthful face, and flowed down far below her waist. A girdle ornamented with silver confined her white linen vesture; over it she wore a short upper dress of fine wool elegantly embroidered; her arms were uncovered, and upon her wrists golden circlets. She looked with her large eyes at the stranger, and answered his respectful salutation with a slight inclination of the head. The watchman approached the Chieftain's daughter.

“The stranger seeks a place with our people, and a corner at our hearth for his weary head. I have conducted him to the homestead, that the Chief may decide upon his fate.”

“We grant rest to the wanderer whom the gods send us. He, whoever he may be, good or bad, that approaches our hearth begging for hospitality, has a room for three days; then my father will ask whether he is an honest man, and not unworthy of our roof. For thou thyself, Wolf, knowest that many deperate people wander in misery through the country, and carry the curse that cleaves to their footprints into the house of the honest man.”

“He looks like on who would act honorably by friend or enemy,” said the watchman.

The noble maiden cast a rapid glance at the stranger. “If he prove himself to be such as thou sayest, we may rejoice at his arrival. Hand him a cup of milk, Frida.”

The stranger drank, and as he returned the cup with thanks, said, “Blessings upon thy kind hand. My first greeting in this country was willingly offered me by a warm-hearted man; may the second be a presage to me that I shall find that peace in the Chief's house for which I so passionately long.”

Meanwhile the watchman had caught for himself one of the horses which were galloping about in the enclosure. While he was preparing to mount, the rosy-cheecked Frida came and said to him mockingly, “Thou hadst good fortune, Wolf, in thy sleep; a stranger bird was caught on the border thorn tree, whilst thou wast reposing. How was thy sleep, watchman, on thy thorny bed?”

“The owl would not let me sleep; it groaned over Frida, who stands at night by the fence and shakes it, in order to learn from whence a husband will come to her.”

“But I saw a thistle-thrush on a dry bush collecting old thistle wood for a marriage bed for the rich Wolf.”

“And I know a proud one,” answered Wolf, angrily, “who trampled on the violets which she went to seek, and so doing fell among the nettles!”

“Not among the nettles of thy fields, thou stupid Wolf,” replied Frida angrily.

“I know one to whom I will not throw the ball at the next dance,” answered Wolf.

“When the wolf dances, the geese fly up on a tree, and laugh,” said Frida, mockingly.

“Twine thyself a garland of oat straws, my haughty goose,” shouted Wolf from his horse, as he trotted away with the stranger, who with delicate feelings had kept a spear's-length away from this bantering talk.

“He is an ill-mannered youth,” said Frida complainingly to her mistress.

“What thou didst shout into the wood has been echoed back to thee,” ansered the latter, laughing; and casting a glance at the stranger, she continued, “He looks like one who has ruled over many people.”

“And yet his sandals were torn, and his jacket travel-worn,” said Frida.

“Do you think that the rocks cut the feet of the poor wanderer only? We believe that he who comes from afar has seen and dared much; we feel sorry if he has become a bad man from avarice or need, and we would gladly give him peace if we could.”

The sun was setting, and the trees cast long shadows across the road, when the two horsemen reached the end of the valley. On both sides the hills receded; by the side of the brook the ground was covered with fresh grass and bright meadow flowers. A red-haired fox crossed the path in front of them.

“The red-head knows that the dwellings of men are near,” said the watchman; “he likes to lurk where he can hear the crowing of the cocks.”

Before them in the evening light lay the village, enclosed by a ditch and a bulwark planted with trees; through the intervals of the trees white gables under brown thatched roofs were here and there to be seen, and small clouds of smoke rose from the roofs. Apart from the village, on a small eminence, the dwelling of the Chief reared itself, surrounded by its own special palings and ditch. Above the numerous buildings and stables of the residence towered high the roof of the great hall, the ridge of which was ornamented with beautifully carved horns.

A troop of boys were practicing warlike games in the meadows in front. They had erected a high scaffold, and were each in his turn springing up to the top and down again, shouting with pleasure. As the horsemen approached, the boys ran on to the road and stared defiantly at the stranger. The watchman called one of the boys, and whispered to him; the boy flew bounding along like a young deer to the Chieftain's house, while the horsemen with difficulty restrained their spirited steeds. The little children danced in a circle in the village street - the little boys naked but for their woolen jackets, the little girls wearing white shifts; they were singing and stamping barefooted in the dust. The ring broke up when the horsemen approached. Women's heads were visible at the apertures of the houses, and out of each door sprang a troop of blue-eyed children; men also came to the doors, scrutinizing with keen looks the appearance of the stranger, and the watchman did not fail to warn his companion to look to the right and left and greet the inhabitants as he rode along. “For,” said he, “a friendly greeting opens the heart, and thou mayst soon need the good-will of the neighbors.”

Meanwhile the boy had run to the Chief's dwelling. Prince Answald was sitting in a wooden arbor which formed a shady screen in front of his dwelling; he was a tall man, broad shouldered, with a frank countenance under his gray hairs. He wore over his shirt a woolen jacket trimmed with beaver skin, his leather stocking were laced with gay-coloured straps, and only his dignified deportment and the respect with which the others spoke to him showed him to be the master of the house. He sat surrounded by his companions, and looked with satisfaction on the two well-fed oxen that were being driven past him by the farm servant, because they were selected to be sacrificed for an approaching feast to the principal dwellers of the district.

The boy presented himself adroitly, and made known his message in a whisper to an old man with shrewd countenance who stood to the left of the Chief and knew well how to give courteous answers to his master.

"The young Wolf brings a stranger here," stated the old man, in answer to the inquiring look of his Chief. "The man came without escort past the Catts, without a horse, or the dress of a warrior; a solitary and unhappy man, he seeks hospitality."

"Prepare him a welcome in the hall," said Prince Answald, calmly, giving a signal to the men to leave him; and to his trusty friend he said, "I see with anxiety foreign strollers. Since the kindling of the Roman war on the Rhine, hot sparks fly through the land, and many a fellow who is victim of violence roams from one country to the other, committing outrage from a spirit of bitter hate."

"If he comes as a fugitive from the south he may have intelligence of the Roman war."

"He may also bring Roman treachery into the country. Roman manners creep like a pest through our valleys; they have filled the King's citizens with arrogance. Our nobles also parade themselves in purple dresses, and maintain roguish bodyguards, who plant their knives in the back of the free man, when his looks do not please their master. But whoever the stranger may be, he shall receive whatever is due to a famishing man. Do thou, however, take care that by judicious talk thou discoverest his secret."

The Chieftain entered the house, and placed himself on the chair of state, a carved oak chair covered with the skin of a young black bear, that stood opposite the door. The Prince's feet rested on a stool, and in his hand he held his Prince's staff.

Outside the entrance the two horsemen dismounted; the stranger leaned his spear against the doorpost, and seated himself silently before the door. The Herald came out and invited him, with solemn greeting, to appear before the Chieftain. The stranger trod the threshold of the house with head erect; he and the Chief for a moment exchanged searching looks, and both were pleased with what they saw.

"Hail to thee, Prince Answald, son of Irmfried!"

"Hail to thee, also!" was returned from the seat of state.

"Bestow on the way-weary man a drink from thy horn, fruit from thy fields, and the protection of thy roof; I come friendless, homeless, defenseless, to thy hearth; bestow upon me what the hospitality of thy people allows to the wanderer."

Hildebrand stepped forward and said, "The Prince bestows upon thee, according to the custom of the people, three days' rest and three days' food. Then the Prince will inquire of the people their ill. Place him a seat at the hearth, boys, and offer him the gifts of the gods."

Three youths brought the things that he ordered --- one a stool on which the stranger sat down, another bread and salt in two dishes, and the third a wooden mug filled with dark beer. This one offered the drink first to the Prince, who merely touched the mug with his lips, then gave it to the stranger.

After this the herald gave a sign to the attendants, and all left the room.

"And now, stranger," began Hildebrand, familiarly seating himself at the feet of the Prince, "as thou hast obtained security for body and limb, give us an account, as far as thou canst, whether thou hast seen or heard aught behind our hills which can be of use tous and not injure thee. For these are anxious times, and the prudent host endeavors to obtain information from wandering men. Wilt thou narrate, if the gods have given thee the power of freely uttering thy words; or shall I ask what it needs us to know?"

The stranger rose. "I bring information which will move the hearts of men; I know not whether it will occasion you joy or sorrow. A battle has been fought, the greatest in the memory of man. Wolves howl on the battle-field, and ravens fly over the bones of the Allemanns, to whom our God has refused victory. The Franks have won the battle for the Romans; the kings of the Allemanns, Huodomar and Athanarich, are prisoners, and many of the king's children with them; the hosts of Cæsar carry fire and sword into the valleys of the Black Forest, as far as the Main, and drive before them prisoners in crowds. Cæsar has become so powerful, they say, over the borderland, that the Catts have sent an embassy to his camp to offer an alliance."

A deep silence followed these exciting words. Prince Answald looked down gloomily, and Hildebrand also had difficulty in concealing his emotion.