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Otto of the Silver Hand Written and Illustrated by HOWARD PYLE NEW YORK: CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 1914 Copyright, 1888, by Charles Scribner's Sons  In the belfry  CONTENTS. Forward l. The Dragon's House II. How the Baron Went Forth to Shear III. How the Baron Came Home Shorn IV. The White Cross on the Hill V. How Otto Dwelt at St. Michaelsburg VI. How Otto Lived in the Dragon's House VII. The Red Cock Crows on Drachenhausen VIII. In the House of the Dragon Scorner IX. How One-eyed Hans Came to Trutz-Drachen X. How Hans Brought Terror to the Kitchen XI. How Otto was Saved XII. A Ride for Life XIII. How Baron Conrad Held the Bridge XIV. How Otto Saw the Great Emperor   LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. There they sat, just as little children in the town might sit upon their father's door-step Away they rode with clashing hoofs and ringing armor No one was within but old Ursela, who sat crooning over a fire Abbot Otto, of St. Michaelsburg, was a gentle, patient, pale-faced old man "While I lay there with my horse upon me, Baron Frederick ran me down with his lance," The poor, simple Brother sitting under the pear-tree, close to the bee-hives, rocking the little baby in his arms Always it was one picture that little Otto sought Poor Brother John came forward and took the boy's band Otto lay close to ber feet upon a bear-skin The grim Baron sat silent with his chin resting upon his clenched fist Slowly raising himself upon the narrow foothold be peeped cautiously within Schwartz Carl, holding his arbelast in his hand, stood silently watching He strode forward into the room and laid his hand heavily on the boy's shoulder "Then dost thou not know why I am here?" said the Baron Fritz, the swineherd, sat eating his late supper of porridge Hans held up a necklace of blue and white beads "Thou ugly toad," said the woman The man was Long Jacob, the Bowman In an instant he was flung back and down The next moment they were banging in mid-air He was gazing straight before him with a set and stony face In the middle of the narrow way stood the motionless, steel-clad figure For a moment they stood swaying backward and forward It was the great Emperor Rudolph   FOREWORD.
That time we call the dark or middle ages. Few records remain to us of that dreadful period in our world's history, and we only know of it through broken and disjointed fragments that have been handed down to us through the generations. Yet, though the world's life then was so wicked and black, there yet remained a few good men and women here and there (mostly in peaceful and quiet monasteries, far from the thunder and the glare of the world's bloody battle), who knew the right and the truth and lived according to what they knew; who preserved and tenderly cared for the truths that the dear Christ taught, and lived and died for in Palestine so long ago. This tale that I am about to tell is of a little boy who lived and suffered in those dark middle ages; of how he saw both the good and the bad of men, and of how, by gentleness and love and not by strife and hatred, he came at last to stand above other men and to be looked up to by all. And should you follow the story to the end, I hope you may find it a pleasure, as I have done, to ramble through those dark ancient castles, to lie with little Otto and Brother John in the high belfry-tower, or to sit with them in the peaceful quiet of the sunny old monastery garden, for, of all the story, I love best those early peaceful years that little Otto spent in the dear old White Cross on the Hill. Poor little Otto's life was a stony and a thorny pathway, and it is well for all of us nowadays that we walk it in fancy and not in truth. 
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ETWEEN
the far away past history of the world, and that which lies near to
us; in the time when the wisdom of the ancient times was dead and had
passed away, and our own days of light had not yet come, there lay a
great black gulf in human history, a gulf of ignorance, of
superstition, of cruelty, and of wickedness.