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And dying prisoners, in their loathsome dungeons, see through the horrid gloom their small red eyes, like glittering coals, hear in the death-like silence the rush of their claw-like feet, and start up shrieking in the darkness and watch through the awful night. I love to read tales about rats. They make my flesh creep so. I like that tale of Bishop Hatto and the rats.
In his despair he offered his soul to the Evil One, if he would release his body from such awful agony. The Evil Spirit came, freed his body, but took his soul away for himself. Thus runs the legend. History however speaks less severely of Hatto, the imperious prelate. His great ambition was his desire of power.
Hatto, it is probable, counselled this step, as a considerable portion of Thuringia belonged to the diocese of Mayence, and a collision between him and the duke was therefore unavoidable. Henry flew to arms, and expelled the adherents of the bishop from Thuringia, which forced the Emperor to take the field in the name of the empire against his haughty vassal.
"I can understand what you say, Uncle Hatto." "I am glad of that, at any rate." "And I know that I have no right to ask you for anything." "I do not say that. Anything in reason, that a girl like you should ask of her old uncle, I would give you." "I have no such reasonable request to make, uncle. I have never wanted new ribbons from you or gay toys.
Admit me, that I may arrange with the widowed Frau Freiherrinn as to her dower and residence." "The widowed Frau Freiherrinn, born of Adlerstein," returned Hatto, "thanks the Freiherr von Adlerstein Wildschloss; but she holds the castle as guardian to the present head of the family, the Freiherr von Adlerstein." "It is false, old man," exclaimed the Wildschloss; "the Freiherr had no other son."
We have now to deal with a personage whose story is largely legendary, particularly that of his death, a highly original termination to his career having arisen among the people, who had grown to detest him. But Bishop Hatto played his part in the history as well as in the legend of Germany, and the curious stories concerning him may have been based on the deeds of his actual life.
The Freiherrinn sat by the chimney, rocking herself to and fro, and holding consultation with Hatto. She started as she saw Christina approaching, and made a gesture of repulsion; but, with the feeling of being past all terror in this desolate moment, Christina stepped nearer, knelt, and, clasping her hands, said, "Your pardon, lady."
Wolf, deer, and sheep skins abounded; and with these, assisted by her father and old Hatto, she tapestried the lower part of the bare grim walls, a great bear's hide covered the neighbourhood of the hearth, and cushions were made of these skins, and stuffed from Ursel's stores of feathers.
Art too stiff to go down the rock path?" "No; nor down the abyss, could I strike a good stroke against Schlangenwald at the bottom of it," quoth Heinz. "Nor see vermin set free by the Freiherr," growled Koppel; but the words were lost in Ebbo's loud commands to the men, as Friedel and Hatto handed down the weapons to them. The convoy had by this time halted, evidently to try the ford.
"Thine unearthly code will not serve us here, Friedel mine," returned his brother. "Did I not defend the work I have begun, I should be branded as a weak fool. Nor will I see the foes of my house insult me without striking a fair stroke. Hap what hap, the Debateable Ford shall be debated! Call in the serfs, Hatto, and arm them. Mother, order a good supper for them.
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