When the first joyous outburst was over, they made their way to the castle. Gertrude mounted a beautiful snow-white palfrey; the boys were placed on their father’s war-horse, and supported by his strong arms they passed through the joyous multitude, who followed after them. The knight and his train entered the beautifully decorated castle halls, while the armed servitors and the people could hardly find room in the large courtyard. Evening came, but its cool air did not dampen the enthusiasm. The courtyard glowed with the light of torches illuminating the crowd, which was hilariously but harmlessly celebrating the occasion with the contents of the castle cellars. Within, in his high ancestral hall, Conrad sat with his family and friends at a richly furnished table, and many a bumper of choice wine was drank in honor of the happy home-coming. At intervals the cheerful strains of lutes were heard, and the Minnesingers, inspired to do their best, sang many a long-drawn-out story of the heroic deeds of the old German heroes, in majestic verse. “We have had enough, noble sirs,” at last said Conrad. “Thanks for your painstaking service. Now join us in celebrating this happy day. You must be weary.” “Oh, my lord, how could we ever tire of relating the great deeds of our ancestors? Are they not the source of all the pleasures and sorrows of the present and future? Do they not inspire emulation of noble actions, and the exercise of knightly virtues?” “Their remembrance is a treasure for all time,” said a knight of about the same age as Conrad, “but we have also witnessed exploits worthy of our ancestors, even if the outcome was not as fortunate.” “Oh,” said Gertrude, and many joined in her request, “tell us of your exploits in the Holy Land among the Turkish hordes, even though it may temper our joy to hear the true account.”