Then Herr Banf took to questioning Wulf sharply; but the boy could tell him but little. Indeed, some instinct warned him against speaking even of the faint thoughts stirring within him. He was full of anxiety to get away to Karl and tell him of this wonderful new experience, and he could say naught to the knight, save that he was Karl the armorer’s grandson, that he had never had the care of horses, and in his life had backed but few, chiefly those of the men-at-arms who rode with their masters to the forge when Karl’s skill was needed. He was troubled, too, about Karl’s hurt, of which he told Herr Banf, and begged to be let to hasten back to the smithy. “Go, then,” said Herr Banf, at last, “and I will see thy grandsire to-morrow; thou’rt too promising a varlet to be left to grow up an armorer. We need thy kind elsewhere.” So, when he had given the nearly forgotten corselet to Gotta Brent, Wulf fared down the rocky way to the forge, where he told Karl all that had chanced to him that day. “Let that remain with thee alone, boy,” the armorer said, when the boy had told him of the strange memories that teemed in his brain. “These are no times to talk of such matters an thou ’dst keep a head on thy shoulders. Thou’rt of my own raising, Wulf; but more than that I cannot tell thee, for I do not know.” And there the lad was forced to let the matter rest. “It is all one with my dreams,” he said to himself, as he sought his bed of skins. “Mayhap other dreams will make it clearer.” But no dreams troubled his healthy boy’s sleep that night, nor woke he until the morning sun streamed full in his upturned face. CHAPTER V HOW WULF WENT TO THE SWARTZBURG, AND OF HIS BEGINNING THERE It was maybe a week after Wulf’s visit to the Swartzburg that Herr Banf rode through the forest to the smithy. He was mounted upon the great stallion that had been so wild that day, and as he drew rein before the shop the horse gave a shrill neigh, for he smelled Wulf. Karl’s foot was by so far recovered that he was able to limp about the forge, and he and the boy were busy mending a wrought hauberk of fine chain mail which the lady superior of St. Ursula had sent to them that morning. “A fair day, friend Karl,” the knight called out as he sat his horse under the big oak-tree. “Here am I come for that youngster of thine. He is too useful a scamp to be let spend his days tinkering here. Haply he has told ye how this big Siegfried of mine took to him. I’ faith, not a groom at the castle can handle the horse!” “Ay?” said Karl, and he said no more, but stood with hands folded upon the top of his hammer and looked steadily at Herr Banf. Wulf, meanwhile, had dropped the tongs that he held, and run out to the horse, who now stood nuzzling his neck and face in great delight. “By th’ rood,” cried Herr Banf, “’tis plain love at first sight! Came another so near Siegfried’s teeth, and I’d look to see him eaten. I must have the boy, Karl!”