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Updated: May 18, 2025
"I sent him up to the castle with the Schneiderlein and Yellow Lorentz," answered the father. "I shall have ado enough on foot with thee before we are up the Ladder."
In unpleasantly close quarters, the Schneiderlein, or little tailor, i.e. the biggest and fiercest of all the knappen, was grooming Nibelung; three long-backed, long-legged, frightful swine were grubbing in a heap of refuse; four or five gaunt ferocious-looking dogs came bounding up to greet their comrade Festhold; and a great old long-bearded goat stood on the top of the mixen, looking much disposed to butt at any newcomer.
On Midsummer eve, Heinz the Schneiderlein, who had all day been taking toll from the various attendants at the Friedmund Wake, came up and knocked at the door. He had a bundle over his shoulder and a bag in his hand, which last he offered to her. "The toll! It is for the Lady Baroness." "You are my Lady Baroness. I levy toll for this my young lord."
There, the Schneiderlein proceeded to say, they put up for the night, entirely unsuspicious of evil; Jacob Muller, who was known to himself, as well as to Sorel and to the others, assuring them that the way was clear to Ratisbon, and that he heard the Emperor was most favourably disposed to any noble who would tender his allegiance.
"Yea," replied Ebbo, "he is at Adlerstein now, Heinrich Bauermann, called the Schneiderlein, a lanzknecht, who alone escaped the slaughter, and from whom we have often heard how my father died, choked in his own blood, from a deep breast-wound, immediately after he had sent home his last greetings to my lady mother." "Was the corpse restored?" asked the able Rathsherr Ulrich. "No," said Ebbo.
And, before she knew what he was about, the gigantic Schneiderlein had slid down on his knees, seized her hand, and kissed it the first act of homage to her rank, but most startling and distressing to her. "Nay," she faltered, "prithee do not; thou must rest. Only if if thou canst only tell me if he, my own dear lord, sent me any greeting, I would wait to hear the rest till thou hast slept."
"Take it to her, good Heinz, she must have the charge, and needless strife I will not breed." The angry notes of Dame Kunigunde came up: "How now, knave Schneiderlein! Come down with the toll instantly. It shall not be tampered with! Down, I say, thou thief of a tailor." "Go; prithee go, vex her not," entreated Christina.
Gertrude," roughly answered the Schneiderlein, "if you cannot be satisfied with the oath of a man like me, who would have given his life to save your father, I know not what will please you."
"The time, the Friedmund Wake; the place, the Friedmund Chapel," replied the Baroness. "Come hither, Schneiderlein. Tell the knight thy young lord's confession." He bore emphatic testimony to poor Eberhard's last words; but as to the point of who had performed the ceremony, he knew not, his mind had not retained the name.
These words were spoken with extreme difficulty, for the nature of the wound made utterance nearly impossible, and each broken sentence cost a terrible effusion of blood. The final words brought on so choking and fatal a gush that, said the Schneiderlein, "he fell back as I tried to hold him up, and I saw that it was all at an end, and a kind and friendly master and lord gone from me.
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