"Stop there," continued the stranger, barring the passage with his spear. "Not so fast if you please. Where are you going to?" "To the old man of the Heidenhöhle." "To the old man of the Heidenhöhle?" angrily repeated the other. "Have you no more respectful term for that personage, you yellow-beaked cowl-bearer?" "I know no other name," replied Ekkehard somewhat abashed. "My greeting is, _neque enim_." "That sounds better," said the old man in a softer tone. "From whence do you come?" "From the Hohentwiel. I am to tell you ..." "Stop, I am not he whom you seek. I am merely his servant Rauching. I will announce you." Considering the appearance of those barren, rocky walls and the black dog, this formality seemed somewhat out of place. Ekkehard was kept waiting some time. It was as if preparations for his reception were being made. At last Rauching made his reappearance. "Be pleased to enter." So they walked along a dark passage that widened at the end, admitting them into a chamber, which had been hewn in the rocks by human hands, high and spacious, with an arched ceiling. A rough panelling partly covered the walls. The openings for the windows were wide and airy; showing a piece of the lake and hills, like a picture in a frame. Some bright, warm sunbeams streamed in, lighting up the otherwise dark chamber. Here and there, traces of stone-benches were visible; while a high-backed chair, likewise of stone, and resembling a bishop's seat in old churches, stood beside the window. In it a figure was seated. It was a strange, human form, of mighty dimensions. The huge head rested heavily between the broad shoulders; forehead and cheeks were deeply furrowed. Round his temples were a few scanty white curls; whilst his mouth was almost entirely toothless,--signs which spoke of the wondrous age of the man. Round his shoulders hung a cloak of undecided colour, the back of which, hidden by the chair, was no doubt threadbare enough; the seams showing here and there, many a patch. He wore a pair of coarse boots, and by his side lay an old hat, with a dusty old trimming of fox's fur. In a niche in the wall, stood a chess-board with carved ivory pieces. A game seemed just to have been finished; the king mated by a knight, and two bishops ... "Who comes to the forgotten one?" asked the old man, in a trembling voice. Then Ekkehard bowing his head before him, told his name, and who had sent him there. "You have brought an evil watchword with you. Do people still speak of Luitward of Vercelli?" "Whose soul be damned," added Rauching. "I have never heard anything about him," said Ekkehard. "Tell him, Rauching, who Luitward of Vercelli was. It would be a pity if he were to die in the memory of men." "He was the greatest rascal, that ever the sun shone upon," was Rauching's reply. "Tell him also, what is the meaning of _neque enim_." "There is no gratitude in this world; and of an Emperor's friends, even the best is a traitor."