"If they are not ghosts which the pious Bishop Ulrich has seen," said the Duchess, "they are certain to come to us also; so what is to be done? To meet them in open battle?--Even bravery is folly, when the enemy is too numerous. To obtain peace, by paying tribute and ransom, thus driving them over to our neighbours' territory?--Others have done that before, but we have other ideas of honour and dishonour. Are we to barricade ourselves on the Hohentwiel, and leave the land at their mercy, when we have promised our protection to our subjects?--never! What do you advise?" "My knowledge does not extend to such matters," sorrowfully replied Ekkehard. The Duchess was excited. "Oh schoolmaster," cried she reproachfully, "why has Heaven not made you a warrior? Many things would be better then!" Ekkehard, deeply hurt, turned to go. The words had entered his heart like an arrow, and remained there. The reproach had some truth in it, so it hurt him all the more. "Ekkehard," called out Dame Hadwig, "you must not go. You are to serve the country with your knowledge, and what you do not know as yet, you may learn. I will send you to some one who is well versed in these matters. Will you undertake this mission for me?" Ekkehard had turned round again. "I never have been unwilling to serve my mistress," said he. "But then you must not be frightened, if he gives you but a rough and unfriendly reception. He has suffered many a wrong from past generations; and he does not know the present. Neither must you be shocked, if he should appear very old and fat to you." He had listened attentively: "I do not quite understand you ..." "Never mind," said the Duchess. "You are to go over to Sipplingen to-morrow; close to Ueberlingen, where the rocky shore shelves down into the lake. These caverns were made, in the olden times, to serve as hiding-places. When you see the smoke of a fire rising out of the hill, go to that spot. There you will find the person I want you to see; and you must then speak with him about the Huns." "To whom is my mistress sending me?" enquired Ekkehard, eagerly. "To the old man of the Heidenhöhle," replied Dame Hadwig. "One does not know any other name for him hereabouts.--But stop," continued she, "I must give you the watchword, in case of his refusing you admittance." She opened a cupboard, and searching about amongst her trinkets and other small things, took out a tiny slate, on which were scrawled a few letters. "That you are to say to him, besides giving him my kindest greetings." Ekkehard looked at the slate. It contained only the two insignificant Latin words, "_neque enim!_"--nothing else. "That has no meaning," said he. "Never mind, the old man knows well, what it means for him."