Wilhelm Wägner - Epics and Romances of the Middle Ages

Ortnit was amazed at the beauty of all he saw. He put on the armour, and it fitted him exactly. Then he picked his tiny father up in his strong arms and kissed him on his rosy mouth, and Alberich returned his embrace with much affection. As the king rode away, the last words he heard were, “Do not forget the importance of that ring. Never give it away. If you turn it on your finger, I will at once be with you.”

When Ortnit got home, he was received with joy by all his retainers; and his mother, who was watching for his arrival, signed to him to come to her. He instantly ran up the steps, and whispered as he kissed her, “I have come from father Alberich.”

“You know?” she asked, hiding her face on his shoulder.

“I know,” he answered, “that I love and honour my dear mother.”

May came at last. The army assembled and marched south through Tuscany, Rome and Naples, whence they embarked for Sicily, Messina being the place fixed on for the general meeting of all the forces. Arrived there, they found faithful Zacharis ready with his ship, in which he had stowed away, not only enough provisions for the voyage, but also merchandise, in case it should be wanted. Soon every man was on board, a favourable wind swelled the sails, and experienced seamen steered the ship through the wild sea.

After they had journeyed a long time, the welcome cry of “land” was heard from the mast-head, and soon afterwards those on deck had a distinct view of the shore and the wharfs of Tyre. But at this moment the skipper came up to the king and said:

“Sire, we are all lost. There is no wind to carry us past this place. They have sighted us already in the town, and will soon send out their pirate ships to chase us.”

“Come, nephew,” said Ylyas, “throw the cowardly dog overboard to drink brotherhood with the fishes. Have we not swords enough to defend ourselves from the Moors?”

“Sir,” replied the skipper, “the heathen will throw Greek fire on board. Neither sword nor shield can do aught against that. The ship will be burnt, and all the men either burnt therewith or drowned.”

No one knew what to advise, so all stood silent about the king. Suddenly a voice was heard from the mast-head:

“All arms below! Bring up the merchandise, and let the sails be reefed, lest the enemy guess that we thought of flight.”

“Hey-day! It is Alberich,” said Ortnit; “how could I have forgotten him?”

He looked up and saw the king of the dwarfs slipping rapidly down the mast to the deck. In another moment he was at his side.

“You forgot both the ring and me,” said Alberich, “but a father does not so soon forget his son. Now hasten and see that my commands are carried out.”

Much ashamed of himself, Ortnit gave the necessary orders. All weapons of offence were stowed away below, and the costly wares Zacharis had provided were spread temptingly on deck. Meanwhile the dwarf climbed the mast again, and, as soon as he was aloft, shouted to the Moors:

“See here—we are peaceful merchants bringing wares from Italy. Give us free convoy into the harbour of Tyre.”

Ylyas stared up open-mouthed at the top of the mast. The flag was flying there as usual, and no one was to be seen. What voice was that he had heard?

“Is the devil on board?” he asked, crossing himself, “or is it a good spirit? Whom did you speak to, nephew? Who called from the top-mast even now?”

“A good spirit,” replied Ortnit, “a little dwarf who will, help us out of our difficulty. You shall see him with your own eyes.”

With these words he slipped his magic ring on his uncle’s finger, and the latter was much astonished to see the small childish figure descending the mast, still more when Ortnit gave him a hasty sketch of all that had taken place.

The Tyrian galleys had by this time come up with the ship. Their commander, who introduced himself as constable of the city, inquired whether the object of the strangers in coming to those seas was really to trade with them. Satisfied that they were what they appeared to be, because of the number and splendour of their wares, he at last gave them leave to enter the harbour, and even to land if they desired to do so. In the course of that afternoon the townsfolk bought many rich Italian stuffs at a very low price.

In the evening the two princes held counsel together as to what was now to be done. Ylyas advised that a sudden onslaught should be made on the castle, and that everybody there, young or old, should be put to the sword. Before Ortnit could answer, Alberich broke into the conversation by saying that such conduct would not be fair, that no one who desired fame and glory would take his enemy unawares; but for fear any herald sent to the infidels should be murdered by them, he undertook to bear the message of defiance himself.

Alberich hastened to Muntabure by unfrequented roads. Arrived there, he saw King Machorell standing on the ramparts enjoying the cool evening air.

“Listen to me, Moorish king,” cried the dwarf from the castle moat, “and mark what I tell you. My master, King Ortnit, desires that you will give him your daughter to be his wife, and queen of Lombardy. If you refuse your consent, he bids me declare war on you at once, and warn you that he will attack Tyre before daybreak to-morrow. After conquering it he will come on to Muntabure, punish you for your evil deeds, and marry your daughter.”

“So, Goblin,” cried Machorell angrily, “you want to arrange a marriage, do you? You will find both your own head and your master’s adorning the battlements of my castle before long, if you persist in your foolish scheme. But where are you? I cannot see you.”

“Down below you in the moat,” was the answer.

The king flung a heavy stone down upon the place where he supposed Alberich to be, but missed his mark. He called out his guards and made them search the whole neighbourhood, but they returned at nightfall baffled and disappointed.

That evening Ortnit made an onslaught on the city, and found it totally unprepared for any attack. However, the Tyrians soon got under arms and made a gallant defence; all in vain. Ortnit was victorious after a hard struggle in which many of his faithful followers were slain.

When he returned from pursuing the Tyrians, Ortnit went to the place where his uncle had fought, and found him lying on the ground surrounded by his people. Was he dead or only wounded? The king bent over him anxiously, and loosed his helmet to see if he were yet alive. His heart had not quite ceased to beat. As Ortnit was raising him in his arms, he happened to touch him with Alberich’s ring, and in a moment Ylyas was on his feet, whole and sound, as though he had never been wounded. It was well for Ortnit that it was so, for in another instant he and his men were attacked by the train-bands of the city, who had rallied once more. At length they also were beaten back with immense loss, and Tyre was really in his hands. Those of the citizens that were left swore fealty to the king of Lombardy, who then gave orders to attend to the wants of the wounded, both friends and foes. He allowed his followers a few days’ rest before leading them against Muntabure.

After much consideration it was agreed between Ylyas and the king that Alberich was the best person to be standard-bearer during the assault, and the dwarf at once consented. The warriors were filled with amazement when they saw a war-horse preceding them with the royal banner apparently floating by its side. “The invisible standard-bearer must be an angel,” they said in awe-struck tones. Nothing of importance happened during the march. All went well, for Alberich led the van.

At last Castle Muntabure loomed in sight: a grim fortress perched on the top of a beetling crag.