The squires and horsemen, who were still retained by Sir Hugh at his castle, happened at this time all to be absent. Some had gone forth to the chase; others had been sent in quest of the old minstrel, Walter; and the rest into the nearest town for provisions to entertain the wished-for guest. At such times, when his messengers reminded him that he ought not to be left thus alone in the fortress, Sir Hugh was wont to answer,--“The old warrior indeed sits here alone, but around him is good store of arms and armour; and, in case of need, it would not be long ere, in his own defence, he had snatched from the wall some well-proved sword, that his ancestors have wielded in the bloody field.”--This time, however, the first squire who entered the hall on his return from the town, perceived that an enemy must have been at the castle very different from any one that Sir Hugh had expected; for, as the old man sat so pale and motionless in his arm-chair, it appeared as if death had been the foe who had now assailed him. Thereupon the squire began to lament aloud, and assembled round him all his comrades who had now returned to the castle. Just then a trampling was heard across the drawbridge, as the minstrel, Walter, came hastily and on horseback into the fortress; and hearing these lamentations, he said, with a deep sigh,--“Alas! thou brave old hero, has it then been the will of Providence, that thou shouldst not live to see thy son return, crowned with laurels, from his long campaigns?”--When he had entered the hall, however, and looked at the tall ghastly form that sat there, it seemed to him as if his old friend could not yet be wholly dead. Nature is, in truth, kind to the poets and minstrels, and if they cannot arrive at the knowledge of her mysteries by the laborious paths of learning, like wise physicians, yet oftentimes she casts on them a gleam of her own light, or throws to them, as if in sport, a wreath of flowers, wherewith they can work wonders to the astonishment of all who are not so gifted. So it happened, that the minstrel, Walter, was in possession of a most precious and fragrant balsam distilled from many rare plants. Soon after the old knight had breathed its odours, he opened his eyes, and said,--“I have seen in my dreams a frightful apparition; but now that I am awake, where is he that came to turn my dreams into reality?--Where is the soldier who stepped up stairs, while his heavy armour rung and rattled; and who knocked three times at the door with his iron glove?”--To all this no one there present could return any answer. At length the old man said,--“That some one has been here is very sure and unquestionable; and that not as a mere spirit, but as a corporeal being; for do you not see that strange trophy that is now right opposite?”--Looking in the direction to which he pointed, they indeed saw an extraordinary banner, which was placed leaning in a corner of the hall. The standard was fashioned into the likeness of a