HERE was the very deuce to pay in Ebernburg. A siege within a siege, if you please; a commotion that thrilled the beleaguered inhabitants of the town from the highest to the lowest, and all about a pig! No wonder the stout Baron von Sickingen stormed, and would have sworn mighty oaths were it not for the fact that he belonged to the Reformed Faith, whose tenets prohibited the use of strong language. But his huge fist descending on the oaken table had all the virility of profanity, as Von Sickingen shouted that, if it took every soldier in his garrison, he would have the man out of the Town Hall and hanged in the market square, while the pig's throat was being cut by the municipal butcher.
"Who is this rebellious wretch?" demanded the Baron of his captain; for the captain, curiously enough, who was no coward, seemed to hesitate about giving instant force to the orders of his commander-in-chief.
"My lord," said the captain, "he is a fugitive from the other side of the Rhine. He calls himself Bernard Eberbach, and appears to have been the son of a farmer who held his ground from the monks of Eberbach monastery. The pious Bernard of Clairvaux founded the monastery in times gone by, and this young man appears to have been named for him. I have long suspected him of being a spy, for the monks of Eberbach profess no love for the enlightened opinions of Ebernburg; but the young man has never shirked military duty, although he has refrained from joining any of our sorties. He spends his nights writing on parchment, which in itself is a suspicious thing to do."
"True, true," commented the Baron, nodding. "Could you not get your hands on any of these manuscripts and bring them to me?"
"I have done so, my lord, but they are merely ribald verses, condemning the monks, but praising their wine. He says it was songs like these that lost him his patrimony in the Rheingau."
"Is it on account of his poetic talent that you hesitated to get him out of the Town Hall? Nay, do not protest, I saw your reluctance when I gave the command."
"My lord, excepting yourself, Bernard Eberbach is the most popular man among the soldiery in all the town."
"Does his popularity hold, then, when the soldiery must know that in time of siege, with starvation upon us, this man reserves for his own use the huge pig you tell me of?"
"Indeed, my lord, they know such is not the case, but are convinced that Bernard would himself die before he allowed that mammoth boar to be slain. It is of the wild breed that haunts the Rheingau forests, as savage as a trooper of Traves to others, but tame as a cat with him; so, between love of the man and fear of the brute, 'twould be difficult to find a dozen soldiers to attack the pair, and it will take at least fourscore to get him out of the Town Hall, where he and the boar are securely barricaded."
The Baron meditated gloomily, with a frown on his brow. At last he said—
"We could do to him what the Archbishop is trying to do to us—surround the hall and starve him out."
"Aye, my lord! But the Archbishop has this advantage over us: he possesses ample supplies for himself and his army, whereas we should starve as soon as Bernard Eberbach and his boar."
"How came he by the keys of the Town Hall?" demanded Von Sickingen.
Once more the captain hesitated, then replied with palpable reluctance—
"He is betrothed to Gretchen, daughter of old Stein Gratz, the Town Clerk."
"Say no more, say no more," interrupted the Baron, with a sigh. "I might have known that with such a songster we were sure soon to encounter one of the beauties of the town. Nevertheless, Captain Dorn, we must get our popular man and his pig out of the Town Hall. This defiance of authority is subversive of all discipline."
"Discipline, my lord, becomes relaxed when hunger is a member of the corps. I can lead every trooper under arms, gaunt as they are, with shouts against the Archbishop outside the walls. There they will go merrily for death or dinner, but it will take stern discipline to collect ten men to attack the citadel within our gates. Listen, my lord."
In the pause that succeeded they heard the voices of the starving soldiery celebrating the fame of the twelve-thousand-gallon cask in the Eberbach monastery, and hailing the time when Baron von Sickingen should lead them against the convent.
"That's one of his latest songs, my lord, and the poor thirsty devils sing it to the uplifting of empty flagons."