Hornebog had led his troops against the brothers of the Reichenau. Here also, grim Death was reaping a rich harvest. The cloister-walls glistened in the distance over the lake, like an appeal to the combatants to exert their utmost strength; and many a Hun who came within reach of their swords, found out that he was treading on Suabian ground, where heavy blows are as plentiful as wild strawberries in summer. But the ranks of the brothers also were considerably thinned. Quirinius the scrivener was resting for ever from the writing-cramp, which had caused the spear in his right hand to tremble. Beside him, there fell Wiprecht the astronomer, and Kerimold the master of salmon-fishing, and Witigowo the architect;--who knows them all? the nameless heroes, who met a glorious end, on that day! Only one of the monks had reason to be grateful to a Hunnic arrow, and that was brother Pilgeram. He was born at Cologne on the Rhine, and had carried his thirst of knowledge, as well as a mighty goitre to St. Pirmin's isle; where he was one of the most learned and most pious monks; but his goitre increased and he became hypochondriac over the ethics of Aristotle, so that Heribald had often said to him: "Pilgeram I pity thee." But now a Hunnic arrow pierced the excrescence on his throat. "Farewell, friend of my youth!" cried he on sinking down; but the wound was not dangerous, and when his consciousness returned, he felt his throat as well as his head considerably lightened, and from that moment, he never opened Aristotle again.