Kitabı oku: «Epics and Romances of the Middle Ages», sayfa 7

III. DIETWART

There was once an emperor of Rome (Romaburg) called Dietwart. His name was known far and wide for his great deeds. At last, wishing to marry, he sent an embassy to King Ladmer of Westenmer to ask for the hand of his daughter. Ladmer professed himself highly honoured that so great an emperor should wish to be allied with his house, and begged that Dietwart would come to Westenmer and see the princess; that done, the two young people might make up their minds whether they were suited to each other. Dietwart consented, and after a stormy passage arrived at his destination, accompanied by a hundred of his bravest warriors.

Ladmer received his guest with all courtesy, and told him how glad he would be to have him for a son-in-law, but that the choice of a husband lay with the princess herself, for he would never constrain his daughter to marry against her will.

At the feast given in his honour, Dietwart dressed himself like his men; but the princess, whose duty it was to offer wine to her father’s guests, soon saw which was which, and filled his goblet first. That evening her father asked her what she thought of the stranger, and she replied,—

“He seems to be a great prince, but I do not know his ways; and until I know that they are pleasant in my eyes, I will not marry him, as I might be very unhappy far away from all I love, in a foreign land.”

Her father kissed her, and told her she must do as she pleased, but in his heart of hearts he hoped she would say “yes.”

A great hunt was arranged for the following day, the object of which was the destruction of a number of stags, for they had grown so numerous that they had done a great deal of mischief in the neighbourhood.

Now it happened that Princess Minnie was a mighty huntress, so she begged her father to let her join him on that day also, for she loved the sport, and, as he knew, her arrow could reach its goal as surely as that of any man. Dietwart did not much relish seeing her so employed. He thought it was not maidenly, and confided to his friends that he would rather seek a wife among the daughters of the great princes at home, than wed such a hoyden as the Lady Minnie. But however that might be, it was his duty, and theirs, as men, to see that the giddy girl got into no danger through her foolhardiness.

As they were going down a narrow glen, Minnie wounded a splendid stag, and the dogs set out in pursuit; while the princess, drawing another arrow from her quiver, hastened after them. Suddenly the dogs set up a simultaneous howl, and rushed out of the thicket. The ladies of the court shrieked aloud. “The worm,” they cried, “the lind-worm! Come back, Lady Minnie, come back!” and at the same moment, turning quickly, they fled across the valley, and took refuge on the top of a neighbouring hill.

A frightful hissing, cracking and trampling was heard, and the dragon crept out of the thicket, its jaws wide open, ready to seize its prey. It was a sight to make the bravest man tremble. Princess Minnie shot three arrows, one after the other, straight at the monster; but they glanced harmless off its horny scales. She turned to fly, but her foot caught in a branch, and she fell to the ground. She seemed lost, for the dragon was making ready to spring upon her. Dietwart and his men were close at hand. The latter threw themselves on the worm; while the former took his stand before the girl to defend her. It was a horrible sight.

Lances, swords, arrows were no defence. They could not pierce the monster’s scales, and one brave man after another was caught in its claws, or was torn by its terrible teeth, which in shape resembled the anchors of a ship. Dietwart rushed to the assistance of his friends. He struck at the lind-worm’s neck with his lance, but the point slipped from the scales, and the dragon tore his breast with its claws. It opened its great jaws as wide as it could, to seize and devour him; but the hero thrust the shaft of his spear into its gigantic mouth, and worked it round and round with such force that the point came out at the other side. A stream of poison, and flames of fire issued from the creature’s nostrils, and the hero fell fainting to the ground, the dying monster on the top of him.

Dietwart was roused from his insensibility by feeling himself violently shaken. When he opened his eyes, he saw the princess struggling to free him from the dragon’s body. Some woodmen came up and helped her. When at last he rose to his feet, he was so weak that he could not stand; and the men made a litter of wattled boughs, on which they carried him to the palace. The wound on his chest was carefully bound up, and no one thought much of it, because the flesh alone had been torn; but it festered badly, and the edges turned black, as though they had been burnt. The doctors declared that some of the dragon’s poisonous breath had touched it, and they feared for the hero’s life. The king, the court, nay the whole country, mourned for the man who had rid them of the monster.

One morning, as Dietwart lay sunk in a feverish doze after the intense pain of the night, he felt a hand busied about his wound. Strange to say, the hand felt both softer and gentler than that of the doctor. He opened his eyes, and recognised the princess. He watched her carefully remove the bandages, and drop some liquid from a bottle into his burning wound. The pain at once left him. He would have thanked her, but she signed to him to be silent. After she had replaced the bandages, and motioned to the nurses to be still, she went away as gently as she had come. The wounded man felt as free from pain as if an angel had brought him some of the water of life. He fell into a quiet slumber. At night the pain returned, but the next morning Minnie came back, and poured balm into his wound. On the third morning she came again. He felt so much stronger, that he could not refrain from seizing her hand and pressing it to his lips. She withdrew it gently, and went away signing to him once more to hold his peace.

The doctor rejoiced at the rapid recovery of his patient. When told what had happened, he said that the royal maid had received the miraculous balm from her mother on her death-bed, and that she was forbidden to use it except in cases of great necessity, and for those she loved.

“For those she loved?” repeated the hero; and he felt strangely happy.

When he was well again, he one day met her alone in the garden, and told her of his love. They talked together for a long time; and when good King Ladmer heard of their engagement, he gave them his blessing. The marriage feast was soon afterwards held, and there, in the middle of the table, as one of its greatest ornaments, was one of the dragon’s teeth set in silver—a nice little tooth it was, weighing at least half a hundred weight.

The husband and wife set out for Rome. The winds and waves favoured them, and they soon reached Dietwart’s native land. The legend informs us that they lived very happily together for four hundred years, and had forty-four children, of whom one son, Sigeher, alone survived them. But it does not tell us whether the Lady Minnie took kindly to her household duties, or always remained fonder of field sports than of needlework.

DIETRICH OF BERN

I
DIETRICH AND HILDEBRAND

Dietmar, second son of Hugdieterich, ruled with a strong hand at Bern, and refused to acknowledge his elder brother Ermenrich, or any other king as his suzerain. He was a mighty warrior, and so terrible in battle that few of his enemies dared look him in the face. But at home he was gentle to all, especially to his wife Odilia, daughter of Elsung, or, according to another saga, daughter of a Danish king. His eldest son, Dietrich, was the joy of his heart. At twelve years old the lad had the strength of a mighty warrior. His fair hair fell over his shoulders in heavy curls. His figure was tall and slender, yet strong and well-knit. He had regular features, but when he was angry, he was terrible to look upon. From his earliest childhood any one might see that he would become a lion-hearted hero. It was even said that his breath was like glowing fire when he was angry, and this the people thought an undoubted proof that he was descended from a demon ancestor.

When Dietrich was five years old, a famous hero came to his father’s court. This was Hildebrand, son of Herbrand, and grandson of the faithful Berchtung. As we said before, Herbrand’s fief consisted of the district and castle of Garden. He had brought up his son in the traditional way, so that he grew up to be a perfect warrior, and a wise man. King Dietmar was so pleased with his guest that he appointed him to be his son’s teacher and governor. This was the beginning of a friendship between master and pupil that lasted till death parted them.

The Sword Nagelring

Now it came to pass that a giant and giantess invaded Dietmar’s land; and slew, burnt, and plundered the people. They were so strong that no one could resist them. The king went against them at the head of an army; but could not find them. He saw everywhere on his borders the desolation they had caused; but none could tell him where they were concealed. At this ill-success young Dietrich and his master were as much distressed as the king himself. They determined to search for the giants till they found them, though the search should cost them years.

They wandered over mountains and valleys seeking the monsters, but seeing nothing of them. One day they set out to hunt with their hawks and hounds, and came to a great forest, in the middle of which was a green meadow, where they thought they should find plenty of game. They uncoupled the hounds, and rode, one to the left and the other to the right of the meadow, holding their weapons in readiness. As Dietrich slowly advanced, keeping a sharp look out, a dwarf crossed his path. Stooping from his horse, he caught up the mannikin and placed him in front of him. The little prisoner made so loud a moan, that Hildebrand heard him, and galloped across the meadow to see what was the matter. Catching sight of the dwarf,—

“Hillo!” he cried. “Hold the rascal tight. He knows all roads, both on, and under the earth. He is Elbegast, the prince of thieves, and is certain to be a friend of the robbers.”

The dwarf shrieked louder than before, and declared that far from being their friend, he had suffered much wrong at the hands of the giant Grim and his sister Hilde, that he had even been obliged to forge for them the good sword Nagelring, and the strong helmet Hildegrim, and had been forced to lead them to their victims by hidden ways known only to himself. He swore to help the warriors if they wished to fight the unholy pair.

The mannikin was therefore set at liberty. He drew a long breath, and said:

“You could not catch me now, if I wished to escape you; but I will serve you faithfully, that I may be freed from the power of the giants. Come back to this place at day-break to-morrow, and I will give you the sword Nagelring, without which you cannot conquer the monster. I shall steal it from him as truly as I am Elbegast, the prince of thieves. Then I will show you his foot-marks in the dewy grass, that you may track him to his hollow mountain, where, if you slay him and his wicked sister, you will find rich booty to reward you.”

The dwarf had no sooner uttered these words than he vanished. The next morning, before daylight, the prince and his companion came to the edge of the green meadow talking of this and that. They agreed that the word of a mountain goblin was not to be trusted, and that thievish Elbegast would probably be false like all his kindred. Their conversation was interrupted by a strange clanking sound, and at the same moment they noticed the rosy dawn overspreading the sky. They started to their feet, and looked about. Elbegast came up to them dragging a huge sword. Dietrich seized it with a cry of joy, unsheathed it and swung it in the air.

“Now,” cried Elbegast, “you have the strength of twelve men, and can fight the monster on equal terms. Look carefully and you will see the marks of his shoes distinctly printed on the dewy grass. I had to make his shoes of iron for he is miserly, and said that leather was too dear. Follow the tracks, and they will lead you to the entrance of his cave. I can go with you no farther.”

He vanished, and the heroes followed the giant’s tracks in obedience to the dwarf’s advice.

At length they reached a great cliff, but there was no opening to be seen large enough to serve as a door. A few cracks might be noticed here and there in the stone, so small that only a dwarf or a lizard could have crept in; certainly not a man in armour, and still less a giant. Hildebrand thought that a bit of the rock might perhaps be fitted into the cliff instead of a door. He tried to shake and loosen any projecting piece of the cliff that he could clutch. His efforts were not in vain. An enormous block of stone stirred and rocked beneath his hands, and just as Dietrich came to his assistance, it fell thundering into the valley below. The sunlight penetrated the darkness of a deep cavern, in the background of which a great fire was burning. Grim was lying on a bed of bear and wolf skins close to the flames. Wakened by the falling rock, he raised himself on his elbow, and perceiving the warriors’ approach, looked about for his sword; not finding it, he snatched up a burning log, and rushed upon Dietrich. His blows sounded like claps of thunder, and fell as thick as hail; it was only the young warrior’s nimbleness that saved his life, which was endangered not only by the force of the blows, but by the smoke and the burning sparks that flew from the log. Hildebrand would have gone to his pupil’s assistance had not the latter forbidden him. And indeed he soon had enough to do to defend himself, for the giantess now appeared, and catching Hildebrand up in her arms, held him tight. It was a deadly embrace. The warrior could not breathe. He struggled in vain to free himself from the sinewy arms that held him. At last the giantess threw him on his back, pressing his hands and arms as though in a vice, and making the blood spirt from under his nails. She looked about for a rope with which to bind and hang him. Hildebrand called to his companion to help him in his need. Dietrich seeing his friend’s danger leaped over the giant’s weapon with a despairing spring, and at the same time seizing his sword in both hands, split the monster’s head from the crown to the collar-bone. Then turning upon the giantess, he slew her after a short but sharp engagement.

Hildebrand now staggered to his feet, and said that from henceforth he would regard his former pupil as his master, because that woman had been harder to deal with than any foe he had ever met before. Dietrich and Hildebrand took the treasure they found hidden away in a side cave, as their meed of victory, and brought it home to Bern.

King Dietmar rejoiced in the glory of his heroic son, whose name had become famous in every land; but he did not live long after these events. He died loved and honoured by all. When Dietrich ascended the throne, he gave his young brother Diether into Hildebrand’s charge, begging his friend to teach the boy to be a hero and a worthy scion of his noble race.

And Hildebrand did his best, with the help of his wife, the good high-souled Ute (Uote), whom he married soon after. Together they taught the boy to love what was good and true, to be brave, and to be not only an admirer but a doer of high deeds.

Sigenot

Soon after Grim and Hilde had fallen under Dietrich’s sword, their nephew, strong Sigenot, a giant who lived in the Western Mountains, came down into the forest to visit his relations. When he discovered their dead bodies in the cave, he howled with rage and swore to avenge their death. A dwarf for whom he called told him of the fight between his uncle and aunt and the heroes, but Sigenot would not believe the story. He thought that Grim and Hilde had been murdered in their sleep by Dietrich and his comrade for the sake of their hoard.

Years passed on. One evening the heroes were seated together in the great hall of the palace, drinking their wine and talking.

“Master,” said King Dietrich, “I never saw a living wife embrace her husband so passionately as Hilde did you that day in the cave. I think the Lady Ute would be angry if she heard how the giantess hugged you.”

“What a monster she was,” answered Hildebrand with a shudder, “and you freed me from her clutches.”

“Yes,” said the king, laughing, “it showed my generosity. I returned you good for evil that time, for you know I might have remembered how many thrashings and floggings you had given me when a boy. Now, confess, was I not generous?”

“I am quite willing to do so,” replied Hildebrand with a smile, and then added gravely; “but do not pride yourself too much on the past, for the giant Sigenot has long been watching for us in the mountains, that he may fall upon us and avenge his uncle Grim’s death. From what I hear, he is so strong that no mortal man can withstand him, and even an army would fall before him like corn under the sickle.”

“Hey! what new story is this?” cried the king. “So Grim’s avenger is lying in wait in the mountains? Why did no one tell me before? I will start to-morrow in search of him, and free my realm from the monster.”

“What!” cried one of the guests.

“Are you going to attack the giant?” asked another.

“The murderous Sigenot!” added a third.

“Listen to me, Dietrich, my pupil,” said Hildebrand solemnly, “he is not heroic, but foolhardy, who undertakes to do the impossible, and it is impossible to conquer that giant.”

“Listen, dear master,” answered Dietrich; “do you remember how you taught me that he is a hero who undertakes what is apparently impossible, because he trusts in his strength, and in the justice of his cause? He is a hero, whether he gains the crown of victory or meets with death. My cause is just, because I go forth to free my realm and my people from the power of the monster.”

“Sire,” cried Hildebrand, “you are no longer my pupil, but my comrade, and as your comrade I will accompany you to the great battle.”

The king answered after a short pause, “My master used to say, ‘One against one is the way of true warriors; two against one is the way of cowards’—so I must go alone.”

“If you do not return in eight days,” returned the master, “I will follow you, and be your liberator, or your avenger, or your companion in death.”

“Why make so much ado?” cried Wolfhart; “the king will strike old Long-legs dead, or else uncle Hildebrand will do it, and if they both should fail, I will follow them, and I wager my head that I will lead him like a captive bear by a rope to the castle here, and then hang him over the battlements, where he may stay till his gossips in hell come to fetch him home.”

Dietrich then set out on his journey. On the evening of the third day he came in sight of the Mountains. He felt so cheery and so strong that he would not have feared to offer battle to all the giants in the world. As he was lying on the grass, sunk in happy reverie, he saw a stately elk, sprang on his horse, and followed it until he came up with it, when drawing his sword he stabbed it in the neck, so that it fell dead. He lighted a fire, roasted a bit of the elk for his supper, and ate it, washing it down with some cups of wine he drew from the skin at his saddle bow.

A cry of agony disturbed him in the midst of his enjoyment. He looked up, and saw a naked giant covered from head to foot with bristly hair, who was holding a dwarf firmly bound to the end of his iron club. The mannikin shrieked to the warrior for help, affirming that the monster was about to eat him alive. Dietrich at once advanced towards the wild man, and offered him a fair exchange. He said he might have the elk instead of the dwarf, and that he would find it a larger and juicier mouthful.

“Get out of the way, you dog,” bellowed the giant. “Get out of the way, or I will roast you at your own fire, and eat you up, armour and all.”

The hero’s anger was stirred at this address, and he drew Nagelring from its sheath, while the giant swept the dwarf from off his club as easily as a snowflake. Then the battle began, and raged until both combatants were so weary that they had to rest awhile. The king again offered to make peace with the monster, because he had come out to fight with the master and not with the servant. A shout of scornful laughter was the answer he received, and then the giant cried in a mighty voice that made the trees tremble to their roots, “Do you think that a little smidget like you could conquer Sigenot? He would bind you to a stake as easily as I should that dwarf, and would leave you to die in agony.”

And now the fray was renewed. The dwarf, who had freed himself from his bonds, kept well behind Dietrich, and advised him what to do.

“Hit him over the ear with the hilt of your sword, the blade is of no use with him.”

Dietrich did as he was advised, and the monster fell with a crash beneath his blow. The sword-hilt had penetrated deep into his skull; a second and a third blow put an end to him.

“Now quick, let us away,” cried the dwarf, “before Sigenot, king of the Mountains, comes down upon us. Should he find us here, we are lost.”

Proud of his victory, Dietrich explained the object of his quest.

“Noble hero,” said the mannikin, “you cannot escape your fate. If by a miracle you are victorious, we poor dwarfs will be freed from an intolerable tyranny, in gratitude for which boon we will be your faithful friends as long as you live. Our father, Alberich, left the rule over thousands of our people in equal portions to me, his eldest son, Waldung, and to Egerich, his younger son. But in spite of our caps of darkness, and all our magic arts, Sigenot has enslaved us, and holds us now in such vile bondage that many die of hardships, and many more are devoured by him.”

“Well,” said Dietrich, “show your gratitude by pointing out the way to Sigenot.”

The dwarf showed the hero the snow-topped mountain where his enemy lived, drew the cap of darkness over his head, and disappeared.

Dietrich set out, and about mid-day arrived at the regions of ice and snow. Long grey moss hung pendant from the branches of the pines, and covered the stems to the root. A thick mist suddenly rose, and hid the mountain. All at once the mist parted like a curtain, and Dietrich saw a beautiful woman in snow-white garments, a diadem of precious stones on her head, and round her throat a necklace that shone like the stars. She raised her finger warningly, and said, “Ride back, hero of Bern, or you are lost. The destroyer is lying in ambush for you.”

She glided past with inaudible steps, and vanished among the glaciers, leaving Dietrich lost in astonishment, and wondering whether it were the goddess Freya, or the elf-queen Virginal that he had seen.

He was startled out of his reverie by a shout, and at the same moment perceived the gigantic warrior hastening to meet him.

“So you have come at last,” he cried, “to give me an opportunity of revenging the murder of Grim and Hilde.”

They began to fight without more ado. As Dietrich tried to make use of what he thought a favourable chance, the blade of his sword Nagelring was caught in an overhanging bough. All his efforts to withdraw it were in vain. At last the steel broke, and at the same moment a blow of the giant’s club stretched the hero senseless on the ground. His helmet was unhurt, but the blow had been so heavy that it left him unconscious. The giant now fell upon him, kneaded his defenceless body both with his hands and his knees, and then dragged him away into his dismal den.

Master Hildebrand waited for eight days with great impatience; then, finding that the king did not return, he took leave of his wife, and set forth in search of him.

In the wood near the snow-capped mountain Hildebrand found the king’s horse, and further on the broken sword. He could no longer doubt what his friend’s fate had been. Vengeance, not deliverance, was now alone what he hoped for, and he rode on unheeding the warning that the little dwarf Waldung called after him.

On perceiving the new comer the giant rushed upon him. The battle between them was long and fierce, and Sigenot disdained no weapon of defence. He tore up bushes and even trees, and threw them at the hero. When Hildebrand at last tried to defend himself by a ruse, the club came down upon his head, and struck him senseless to the ground. “Come on, long beard,” shouted Sigenot, “Hilde and Grim are avenged at last.”

So saying, he bound the fallen warrior hand and foot, and seizing him by the head, flung him over his shoulder, and bore him to his cave, singing loudly the while.

The giant’s dwelling was large and lofty. The roof was supported by stone pillars, and a carbuncle in the centre shed a pleasant light over the foreground, while the back of the cavern was dark and gloomy in the extreme. On entering, the giant threw down his burden with such force that Hildebrand thought every bone in his body was broken. Sigenot then went to a side cave to fetch an iron chain with which to bind his prisoner, saying that he would not be long away.

When a weak man is in sore straits, he at once gives himself up for lost. Not so the hero. He never abandons hope until he has tried every mode of rescue, however poor. It was thus with Hildebrand. Looking round him, he perceived his good sword, which the giant had seized as rightful booty, lying in a distant corner, and he thought that he might yet fight and gain the victory, if he could only cut the cords that bound his wrists. He was fastened to a square pillar with sharp corners. He sawed the cords on his wrists against the pillar, and cut them through. No sooner were his hands free, than he undid the ropes and cords about his feet, and snatching up his sword, hid behind the pillar, which he intended to use as a protection, his shield having been left in the wood.

Sigenot returned with the chains, and looked about in astonishment. His prisoner was gone. Suddenly he caught sight of him behind a pillar, and the battle raged anew. The ground trembled beneath the giant’s tread, and the rocks re-echoed the sound of blows. The combatants were now fighting in the dark background of the cave, led there by the gradual retreat of Hildebrand, when suddenly the hero heard his name called from the depths beyond. He recognised the king’s voice, and the knowledge that his friend yet lived gave added strength to his arm. A few minutes more, and the giant was stretched at his feet.

The victory was won. He cut off the monster’s head, and whilst resting for a moment after his exertion, he heard Dietrich’s voice exclaiming:

“Hildebrand, dear master, help me out of the serpent’s hole. There are still some adders here, alive, though I have slain and eaten many more.”

Finding that the king was confined in a deep hole, Hildebrand looked round for a rope or a ladder, with which to help him out. Whilst engaged in this search, he was joined by the dwarf Waldung, who gave him a ladder of ropes, by means of which the king was restored to the light of day.

“Hildebrand,” said Dietrich, taking a long breath of the fresh pure air, “you are not my comrade, but my master.”

After this, the heroes followed the dwarf into his subterranean kingdom, where he provided them with food and drink, and offered them costly treasures. The noblest gift that Dietrich accepted was his sword Nagelring mended, hardened, and newly adorned with gold and precious stones, so that it was more beautiful as well as stronger than before.

The heroes now returned to Bern, where they were received with great joy.

Queen Virginal

Once when Dietrich and Hildebrand were hunting in the wild mountains of Tyrol, the king confessed that he had never been able to forget Queen Virginal, who had come out to warn him of Sigenot’s approach.

“You would find it as easy to gain the love of a star as to wile Queen Virginal away from her glaciers and snow mountains,” said Hildebrand.

While the heroes were thus talking together, a tiny little mannikin dressed in full armour suddenly stood before them.

“Noble warriors,” he said, “you must know that I am Bibung, the unconquerable protector of Queen Virginal, ruler of all the dwarfs and giants in these mountains. With my help she chased thievish Elbegast away from her dominions; but the wretch has now invaded her realm with the help of the magician Ortgis, his giants and his lind-worms. He has forced her by his black art to pay him a shameful tribute. He obliges her every full moon to give him one of her beautiful maidens, whom he then imprisons, fattens, and eats for his dinner. So Jeraspunt, her palace, is filled with weeping and mourning. My lady, hearing that you conquered the dread Sigenot, entreats you to come to her aid; therefore hasten to Jeraspunt and rescue our great queen.”

The heroes consented, and asked to be shown the way. The dwarf guided them till they came within sight of a wondrous building shining on the heights in the light of the evening sun. Hildebrand broke the silence that had fallen on them by exclaiming, “Truly if the lady Ute were not my wife, I should be inclined to try my luck with Queen Virginal; but as things are, I will do my best to help you to win her. Well, Bibung!—why, where in the world has the rascal got to?”

“The unconquerable protector of the queen has a wholesome terror of Ortgis,” laughed Dietrich. “But now let us on to the palace.”

“Night is the time for witches to journey, not honest men,” said Hildebrand, “so let us stretch ourselves on the soft moss, and rest until morning.”

The next morning was dull and misty, and a snow storm beat in the faces of the warriors as they climbed the steep mountain on foot, by a road impassable for horses. On and on they went, a weary way. As they stopped to slake their thirst at a spring, they heard a woman’s voice shrieking for help. A girl rushed up to them and entreated their aid against terrible Ortgis, to whom she had been delivered according to the treaty, and who was now hunting her down with his dogs. At the same moment the holloa of the huntsman was heard, and in another the battle of the heroes with Ortgis and his followers had begun. Gigantic as were Ortgis and his train, they soon fell under the swords of the heroes. One man alone escaped, but he was the worst of the whole crew, for he was Janibas, son of Ortgis, and a great magician like his father.