So it happened, that late one evening both the knights were seated at the round marble table in the Druda’s castle, when all of a sudden she became silent, laid her finger on her lips, in token that her guests also must not speak, and, as if listening to some strange and mysterious sound, she raised her gleaming eyes to the ceiling. Then she rose and went to the window, looked out attentively on the stars, and cried aloud, “To horse, brave young knights, to horse! Fly with the speed of light to your troops; for the swords of the pagans are now drawn! they have had recourse to their wonted sorcery! be then brave and steadfast, for on this night depends your destruction or triumph.” In a moment the two brave warriors had clasped their visors, girded on their swords, seized their long ponderous javelins, and bowed courteously before the Druda, who, at their departure, made the sign of the cross over their heads, and repeated her former admonitions. “To horse, and rush on with the speed of lightning to your camp!” In another minute, they were both mounted, and their horses bore them, swift as an arrow from the bow, down the steep path that led from the castle. As they advanced on their way through the tangled thickets of the forest, they heard a strange confused noise of voices and rattling arms on all sides; there were fires kindled also, which shone from the snow-covered cliffs, especially from amid the pine-tree forests of the Finland frontier. At length they arrived at their camp, and, amid all this disturbance, found their troops in good order, the infantry already under arms, and the riders standing by their horses. When the knights appeared, all were inspired by new courage and ardent anticipations of approaching victory. “Mount then in God’s name!” cried the Knight of Trautwangen; “and let the light armed infantry lead the way,” shouted Sir Arinbiorn. In brief space, these arrangements were made, and they proceeded on their route through the shadowy valleys; while the young Sir Kolbein, with a band of scouts, was already engaged in a vehement skirmish with the barbarous Finlanders, who were howling aloud like wild beasts, and showering against him numberless javelins and arrows. Over the van of Sir Otto’s troops, at the same time, there came strange missiles, that burned and shone like the stars in heaven; whereupon some cried aloud,--“The foes attack us with flaming spears!”--Others said,--“This is all witchcraft, and the air is filled with serpents and dragons!”--“Let them be what they may,” cried Sir Otto and the sea-monarch; “we have here right and justice on our side. Onward, then! for God and our native land!”--With these inspiring words, the only battle-cry under which a Christian warrior can advance with due confidence and courage, they now urged their way through the thickets, and soon came up close to their hideous adversaries.