The Iron Star — And What It Saw on Its Journey Through the Ages: From Myth to HistoryTrue, John Preston
History
The Iron Star — And What It Saw on Its Journey Through the Ages: From Myth to History
True, John Preston
Iron -- History -- Juvenile fiction
One day in the town of Durrenstein the minstrel heard of an
illustrious prisoner who was held captive in the castle of Trifels,
surrounded by almost impassable crags. Much that goes on in the
fortress becomes known outside in the market town, through the gossip
of servants who come down for supplies. They like to know what is
going on in the world outside, and in payment for such news are ready
to give the little items of castle life; how Hans the man-at-arms fell
asleep on guard and got a week in the prison on bread and water in
consequence; how the Spanish envoy tried to kiss one of the maids when
he had taken too much wine, and thus had forgotten that he was a
gentleman; and what happened in consequence of his forgetfulness.
Little things, of no importance whatever to the world, yet with now
and then a grain of wheat among the chaff. Thus Blondel found his
grain of wheat.
Striking the strings of his harp he sang with a full heart the most
joyous carol that he knew, a song so bubbling over with mirth and
sheer happiness that the whole market-place seemed to wear a broad
smile and the wooden shoes of the peasants kept time with clumping
thumps in the dusty road to the rhythm of the tune.
The man-at-arms from the castle smote his thigh till all the joints of
his armour clashed and rattled:
"And here I must back with this message without a halt, with music
like that going on down below. Why, it's enough to make our great
noble in his dungeon forget his chains! Well, duty is duty. Here's my
last coin, minstrel, for that song."
The minstrel laughed, throwing back his curly head and showing his
white and pearly teeth.
"I pity thee, man-at-arms. 'Tis better to be a bird in the bush than
in a cage. But this coin is heavy and I owe thee change. To-night,
then, if thou art on the castle walls I'll come and sing to thee."
"It's a bargain!" and homeward rode the man in armour, clanking and
clashing, and in his hoarse voice making vague shouts after bits of
the carol that still haunted him, wondering meanwhile if the minstrel
really would come.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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