Legends of the Rhine

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III.

Love's first rapture is often followed by sorrow however, and
beautiful Rothtraut had yet to experience it.

It once happened that the knight surprised his child in the musician's
arms. His anger knew no bounds, and like a beast of prey he rushed at
the singer, when his daughter, suddenly become a woman, placed herself
bravely between her father and her lover. Her confession went to his
heart like a dagger, for with trembling lips and glowing cheeks, the
maiden acknowledged the secret of her love.

Pale but firm the singer stood before the knight.

"I am only a wanderer but not a dishonourable one. Do not destroy with
a rough hand the flower which God has planted in our hearts, but give
me time. I will set out on my journey and will take up arms for my
beloved. And when I come back as a nobleman, you will give me your
daughter who loves me. Either I shall return as a knight, or you will
never see me again."

The lord of the castle looked at him sternly, while his daughter stood
weeping, holding Ronald's hand. "Good-bye, maiden. Do not forget me,
Rothtraut!" He was gone, and a wailing cry burst from the lips of the
unhappy girl.

IV.

To atone for many a wrong against Pope and Church, and also to fulfil
a solemn vow, the Emperor Barbarossa started on a crusade in his old
age. Many knights and heroes joined him, and his great army marched
through several countries until they came to the Levant. Then they
journeyed on to Syria where the great hero's career ended. Barbarossa
was drowned, and the eyes of his followers turned to Henry, his son,
as their leader. The latter, who became emperor under the name of
Henry VI. was a very capable general; he was also a lover of music,
and is said to have composed many a melody which remains with us to
the present day.

Many supposed that it was not the royal minstrel who composed the
songs, but that they came from the hand of Ronald who was now as
skilled with his sword as with his harp, and who had become a great
favourite of the emperor. He was a powerful warrior, and had already
overthrown many a Saracen. Once when the crusaders had gained a
glorious victory, he composed a song in honour of it, and sang it
himself on his harp. The song went the round of the camp, and the
singer became a great friend of the emperor. But even such favour did
not drive the shadow from Ronald's soul, and often when he was singing
one of his most beautiful songs to Henry, he would suddenly break off
and rush out of the tent in great grief. One day the emperor found out
what he had long guessed, and made Ronald confess his story to him.

Some days afterwards the crusaders began the storming of Acre, the
impregnable fortress of the Saracens. Ronald was fighting by Henry's
side. A Saracen dashed his falchion at the king's head, but Ronald
with a mighty blow clove the infidel's skull in two. In the evening of
the same day Henry called all his warriors together, and dubbed the
brave champion knight with his own hand. Ronald of Harfenstein was to
be his name, and a lyre lying on a falchion and a sword, were to be
his arms. The emperor promised to build him a castle on the borders of
the Rhine, which was to be called Harfeneck.

Plague broke out in the camp, and many a gallant crusader fell victim
to it. Among them was the emperor himself, whose death caused
unspeakable grief to Ronald.

V.

One day a weary crusader was seen riding along the banks of the Rhine.
Wherever he passed, the people asked him if it were true that
Barbarossa was not drowned in the Holy Land, but was living in the
Kyffhaeuser Mountain, and would soon come back to his own neglected
kingdom. The crusader barely answered their questions, but urged on
his tired steed along the Rhine. At last the silvery waters of the Ahr
appeared before him, and he saw the gables of the castle. The rider
joyously spurred on his horse, and rode up through the forest to the
fortress where once he had sat on the drawbridge as a poor traveller.

The late guest was ushered up to the lord of the castle.

The knight, now a bent old man, rose from a melancholy reverie to
greet the unknown stranger.

"I am Ronald, and have become a knight through the grace of the
Emperor Henry in the camp at Acre, and now I have come to win your
daughter Rothtraut."

"Win her from death, for it robbed me of her two months ago," said the
proud lord of the castle, turning his head aside in deep grief. Then a
despairing groan thrilled through the chamber. Harsh words passed
between those two, one a man in his disconsolate sorrow, the other a
repentant father.

Ronald strode off to the lonely corner of the garden, and the newly
dug up earth showed him the place where Rothtraut lay. There he
remained late into the night, till darkness had surrounded him and
black night had settled on his soul. Then he turned and went away,
never to come back again.

In the East whence the crusaders had now returned, everyone talked of
the heroic deeds accomplished by Richard the Lion-hearted. The
Saracens well knew the fearless leader and the German knight who
fought at his side. Richard valued his bravery, even though he was
still a young knight. He meant to make him one of his vassals when he
returned to his own country. But his desire was never fulfilled, for
the thrust of a hostile lance which he had so often escaped, pierced
the knight's heart. So the minstrel of Neuenahr found a grave in the
Holy Land; the race of Harfenstein became extinct with the first of
the line, and the castle was never built.

EIFEL

The Arrow at Pruem

It was in the little town of Pruem many a long year ago that Lothaire,
the degenerate son of St. Louis, did penance for his sins. In the
church belonging to the town there are two very ancient pictures; one
of them represents a knight standing on a huge rock, shooting an
arrow, while his wife and retinue are looking devoutedly towards
heaven; the other represents a priest at an altar to whom an angel is
bringing an arrow.

Who is the knight?

Who is the holy man?

The knight is Nithard, noble lord of Guise, who lived in the north of
France towards the end of the ninth century. No children having been
born to his excellent wife Erkanfrida, the knight determined to leave
his estate for some pious object.

He meant to endow a cloister, where after their deaths, masses would
be read for him and his spouse. But it was a difficult matter to
select the most worthy from the many cloisters in the neighbourhood,
and by the advice of a pious priest he resolved to leave the decision
to Heaven.

He fastened the document bequeathing his possessions to an arrow, and
then set out for a great rock near the castle, accompanied by his wife
and numerous followers.

After a fervent prayer he shot the arrow skyward, and, so the pious
story runs, it was borne by angel hands, till it came to Pruem--a
journey of several days.

Ansbald, the holy abbot of the cloister, was standing at the altar
when the arrow fell at his feet. He read the document with
astonishment and gratitude, and in a moved voice, announced its
contents to the assembled congregation.

Knight Nithard assigned his estate to the cloister, and from that time
forth many pilgrims journeyed to Pruem to see the arrow which had been
carried there by angel hands.

The storms of many centuries have blown over those hallowed walls, but
the pictures in the old church belonging to the abbey still remain,
thus preserving the legend from oblivion.

AACHEN

The Building of the Minster

[Illustration: Karl der Grosse--Nach dem Gemaelde von Albrecht Duerer]

As Charlemagne, the mighty ruler of the Franks, rode one day from his
stronghold at Aix-la-Chapelle into the surrounding forest, his horse
is said to have suddenly trodden upon a spring. On touching the water,
the animal drew its foot back neighing loudly as if in great pain.

The rider's curiosity was aroused. He alighted, and dipping his hand
into the spring, found to his surprise that the water was very hot.
Thus Charlemagne, as the legend records, discovered the hot spring
which was to become the salvation of many thousands of ill and infirm
people.

The pious emperor recognised in this healthgiving spring the kind gift
of Providence, and he resolved to erect near the spot a house of God,
the round shape of which should remind posterity of the horse's hoof.

The building was soon begun, and Charlemagne saw with great
satisfaction the walls of the new minster rising high into the air. He
was not however destined to see its completion. When he died, he had
to leave the great Empire of the West to a feeble son, Lewis the
Pious. The latter was compelled to draw his sword against his own
children in order to assure for himself the crown he had inherited.

Many a great undertaking that Charlemagne had begun, remained
unfinished.

The building of the minster too was interrupted. The ground was left
desolate, and the walls and towers were threatened with decay before
they were finished.

It was quite useless for the honourable magistrate of the town to
apply for money to the charitable Christian inhabitants. Contributions
came in very slowly, and were never sufficient to finish the church.

The aldermen of Aix-la-Chapelle would very often seriously debate the
question, and discuss how they could remedy the grievous lack of money
and successfully effect the completion of the minster. They found
however that good counsel was just as rare as building material.

Once when they were met thus together, a stranger was announced who
said he had most important news to communicate. He was allowed to
enter the session room. After having duly saluted the Council, he said
modestly but without any shyness, "Gentlemen, my business, in a word,
is to offer you the money for the completion of the church." The
worthy aldermen looked in wonder first at the speaker, then at each
other.

They silently agreed in the opinion that the man before them looked
very suspicious in his quaint outlandish clothes and his sharp pointed
beard.

But the newcomer was not at all abashed by their suspicious looks. On
the contrary he repeated politely but firmly his proposal, saying:
"Honourable Sirs, I should like to help you out of your difficulty,
and will advance you the necessary thousands without even wishing to
be paid back."

At this frank offer the councillors pricked up their ears and opened
their eyes wide in astonishment. Before they could recover from their
amazement, the stranger continued: "I know well, you are all far too
proud to accept this great offer of mine without giving me a reward of
some sort. Therefore I require a small compensation. I demand the
first living being, body and soul, that enters the new minster on the
inauguration day."

On hearing this the honourable aldermen rose horrified from their
seats. Many of them made the sign of the cross or uttered a short
prayer, because nobody but the devil himself could require anything so
monstrous.

The eyes of the chairman shot a reproachful glance at the strange
speaker, and he muttered between his teeth: "Be off! your words are
giving offence."

But Master Satan, the stranger, stood calmly in his place: "Sirs,"
said he, "Let me answer you with a word from the scriptures, "Why are
you so fearful, oh ye of little faith?" On the field of battle the
sword mows down thousands of brave men. They fall often as victims to
the ravening ambition of a single man. You can even see fathers
fighting against their sons, brothers against their brothers, and
nobody thinks it unjust. Now you cry out, when I only ask for one
single living soul to be sacrificed for the welfare of the whole
community."

The eyes of the stranger looked round in triumphant joy when he had
finished, for he read a favourable reply in the puzzled faces of the
aldermen.

Many of them at once gave up their scruples, and after a few minutes
even the most cautious among them had no more objections to urge.

The offer was closed with, and Master Satan left the Town Hall with a
proud smile.

The next day the council was again gathered together anxiously waiting
for the promised sum.

It arrived promptly, rightly weighed and in good honest coin.

The joy of the aldermen was boundless.

* * * * *

Once more the workmen began the work of building the minster. They
worked very busily as if to make up for the long interruption, and
after three years the cathedral was finished.

On the day when the new church was to be consecrated, a great festival
was held in the town.

The distinguished company, secular as well as clerical, who appeared
at the inauguration ceremony, praised the magnificence of the minster,
the great liberality of the citizens, and more than all, the wisdom of
the Town Council.

The aldermen listened to the general praise with pleasure, and
accepted it as their due. They felt however bound to confess to each
other that they did not feel easy when they thought of the
inauguration day. None of them had spoken to anybody of Master Satan's
condition.

Only one of them, a henpecked fellow as malicious people said,
confessed the whole transaction to his wife. It is needless to say
that from that moment the whole town knew about the affair. On the
important day of the consecration of the minster many venerable
prelates, abbots, and monks, thousands of noble knights and lords who
had come as guests, and the whole population of Aix-la-Chapelle looked
forward to the fatal hour with beating hearts. It was a grand
procession indeed that marched on in ceremonious solemnity through the
streets. The gaily coloured flags waved merrily in the air, the
trumpets and clarions sounded cheerily. The nobility and clergy were
in their most gorgeous attire. On every side were the signs of joy and
thanksgiving.

But the hearts of the people were all oppressed, and many a sorrowful
eye gazed at the morning sky, as if expecting to see Satan flying down
with his bat-like wings.

When the aldermen in their bright robes joined the procession, the
general anxiety rose to the highest pitch.

Before the worthy councillors a bulky cage was carried by four stout
footmen. What was hidden under the covering nobody knew, but everybody
felt sure that it contained the victim.

When the procession reached the minster it stopped, the cage being
carried foremost.

At a sign from the mayor, one of the footmen quickly stripped off the
cover and exposed to view a howling hideous wolf. Two of the men
pushed the church door wide open with their long halberds, and the
fourth pushed the wolf skilfully through the open door. A terrible
noise arose suddenly within.

The devil had been waiting for his spoil, as a tiger that watches for
his prey.

When the wolf entered the devil darted towards it, but seeing that it
was only a beast he burst into a wild howl of rage.

He wrung the poor wolf's neck with the quickness of lightning and
disappeared suddenly, leaving nothing behind him but a strong smell of
sulphur.

A few minutes later the bells rang, and the whole magnificent
procession thronged into the church, duly to celebrate its
consecration.

* * * * *

While divine service was being held in the new minster and hymns of
praise and thanksgiving were offered at God's altar, the devil flew
with horrible maledictions over the country.

He swore an oath to punish with the utmost severity the population of
Aix-la-Chapelle who had so cunningly outwitted him.

In his flight he came to the sea-shore where he stopped a little, in
order to consider how he could best destroy the town. As he looked at
the sandy dunes the thought struck him, that he might bury the whole
town with all its prelates and abbots under such a hill. With a mighty
pull he tore one of the dunes from the shore, piled it on his
shoulders, and flew rapidly towards the doomed city. But the way was
much longer than Master Satan had thought. He began to perspire very
freely under his unwonted burden, and when from time to time the wind
blew a rain of loose sand into his eyes, he swore most horribly.

In the valley of the Soers not far from Aix-la-Chapelle he was obliged
to rest, as he was very tired after his exertions.

While he was thus sitting by the wayside wiping his forehead and
looking hot and weary, an old wrinkled woman came limping along, who
looked with suspicion at the man and his strange burden.

She wanted to pass by without saying a word, but the stranger stopped
her and said: "How far is it from here to Aix-la-Chapelle?" The woman
cast a sharp look at the speaker.

As she had reached years of discretion, being now in her
seventy-second year, she was shrewd enough to recognise in the man
before her the very devil in person. She was also quite sure, that he
must have some wicked plan in his head against the good town,
Aix-la-Chapelle.

Therefore assuming a very sad expression she answered in a complaining
voice: "Kind sir, I am so sorry for you, the way to the town is still
very long. Only look at my boots, they are quite worn from the long
way, and yet I got them new from the shoemaker at Aix-la-Chapelle."

Master Satan uttered something that sounded like a bitter curse. Then
he shook off the sandy dune from his shoulders and flew away in a
fury.

The old woman was for a moment terror-stricken, but when she saw the
fatal figure of the stranger disappearing, she was inexpressibly glad
at having saved the town and outwitted the devil himself.

If he had only looked a little more carefully he could have seen the
tower of the new minster not a mile off.

The sandy dune is still lying in the very same place where the devil
dropped it. Its name is "Losberg" or "Ridmountain," so called because
the town Aix-la-Chapelle got rid of a great danger.

The memory of the poor wolf is also still preserved. Its image is
engraved on the middle of the minster door, where you can also see the
big cracks produced by the devil's hammering it in his impotent anger.

The Ring of Fastrada

This story too leads us back to the time of the great Emperor Charles,
whose life has come down to us with a halo of glory.

Charlemagne's favourite residence was Aix-la-Chapelle, but he also
held court in Helvetia. His imperial stronghold stood on the shores of
the Lake of Zuerich. In its neighbourhood there was a high pillar which
the emperor had erected to mark the place where Felix and Regula had
died as martyrs for the Christian faith. A small bell was attached to
this monument, which everybody in distress and want might ring if they
wanted relief. As often as Charles held his court in Zuerich he himself
appeared at the pillar when the bell was rung, and listened to the
complaints and petitions of his subjects.

One day the sound of the bell was heard, yet nobody could be perceived
near the pillar. On the following day about dinner-time the same thing
happened, the bell rang, yet no one was there. The emperor, curious to
know what this meant, commanded one of his pages to hide in the bushes
behind the pillar.

When mid-day approached the boy noticed that a serpent crept out of
the sand, wriggled up to the pillar, and set the bell a-ringing. This
astonishing fact was at once communicated to the emperor, who came
without delay to the spot. He was very much surprised at seeing such
an unusual applicant, but he said with great earnestness, "Every one
who comes to me shall find justice, be it man or beast."

The serpent bent low before the monarch, and then crept back into its
den. Charlemagne followed, anxious to learn the reason of its strange
behaviour. He was surprised when, on looking into the dark hole, he
saw an ugly toad sitting on the serpent's eggs, and filling nearly the
whole space with its hideous form.

The emperor bade his attendants kill the intruder at once.

In a short time Charlemagne had nearly forgotten the strange incident.

But one day when he was sitting at dinner the serpent unexpectedly
entered the hall, and crept up to the emperor's seat. Bowing low three
times it lifted its head and dropped a precious stone into the
emperor's goblet. It then disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Charlemagne took the stone out of the cup, and saw to his amazement
that it was a precious diamond. He ordered it to be mounted in a
golden ring, which he presented to his well-beloved wife, Fastrada.

The jewel possessed a wonderful quality. Fastrada had always been
loved tenderly by her imperial husband, but after the diamond ring
adorned her slender finger, a sweet charm seemed to bind her still
more strongly to him.

To many people this great love of the emperor for his wife seemed too
absorbing, almost superhuman, and when death ruthlessly snatched her
from the side of Charlemagne, everybody believed that it was a
judgment from heaven.

The monarch was inconsolable at this great bereavement. He spent days
and nights in unspeakable grief by her corpse. The rumour was, that
his sorrow was so intense that he refused to permit the remains of his
wife to be duly buried. The charm the living Fastrada had exercised
over him seemed to linger even after her death.

The Archbishop of Rheims, the pious Turpin, heard of the emperor's
sorrow, and he offered fervent prayers to God for help. Soon
afterwards he had a strange dream. He saw the wonderful ring on
Fastrada's finger glittering with a thousand lovely colours and
surrounding the emperor with a magic light. The bishop was now sure
that the precious stone was the cause of the superhuman love the
emperor bore to his wife.

On the following day before sunrise Turpin, the venerable old bishop,
got up and went into the room where Charlemagne had again spent a
night in bitter grief by the remains of his beloved wife. He was
kneeling by the uncovered bier in fervent prayer when the bishop
entered. Turpin went straight up to the body, and making the sign of
the cross he took the cold waxen hand of Fastrada for a moment in
his. Without being observed by the mourning emperor, he slipped the
enchanted ring gently from her finger. As he had guessed the emperor
at once rose, and kneeling down before the bishop, kissed his hand in
adoration. Then he rose and bade Turpin have the remains of his wife
buried that same day. So it happened that Fastrada's remains were
brought to their last resting place in the Church of St. Albans at
Mayence.

From that time the emperor was attached with rare devotion to the old
Archbishop of Rheims.

He would not allow him to leave his side, but requested that Turpin
should always live near him. The pious man was also nominated first
councillor of the Empire.

Turpin used his high position only for the welfare of the empire, and
did a great many good works.

Sometimes however he felt a pang of regret at the manner in which he
had acquired the high favour of his lord, and it seemed to him very
unfair.

Once when he accompanied the monarch on one of his journeys in Western
Germany, he threw the ring into a spring from which it could never
more be brought up again.

From that moment Charlemagne felt himself irresistibly drawn to that
particular part of his extensive dominions.

He erected a stronghold there, and a flourishing township soon
surrounded this palace. Later on it was called Aix-la-Chapelle, and
became the favourite residence of the great emperor.

Within its walls he liked best to rest from the burden of affairs of
State, and sometimes the old ruler could be seen sitting by the margin
of the spring in which Fastrada's ring lay buried, recalling the sweet
memories of past days.

ROLANDSECK

Knight Roland

[Illustration: Roland in der Schlacht von Roncevalles--Nach dem Gemaelde
von A. Guesnet]

I.

The Emperor Charlemagne was surrounded by a circle of proud knights,
the flower of whom was Count Roland of Angers, nephew of the King of
the Franks. The name of no knight was so famous in battle and in
tournaments as his. Helpless innocency adored him, his friends
admired, and his enemies esteemed him. His chivalrous spirit had no
love for the luxuries of life, and scorning to remain inactive at the
emperor's court, he went to his imperial uncle, begging leave to go
and travel in those countries of the mighty kingdom of the Franks,
which up to that time were unknown to him. In his youthful fervour he
longed for adventures and dangers. The emperor was much grieved to
part with the brave knight, however, he willingly complied with his
request.

One day early in the morning the gallant hero left his uncle's palace
near the Seine, and rode towards the Vosges Mountains, accompanied by
his faithful squire. The first object of his journey was castle
Niedeck near Haslach, and from there he visited Attic, Duke of Alsace.

He continued his travels, and one evening as he was riding through
the mountains, the glittering waters of the Rhine, washing both sides
of the plain, greeted him. The river in that part of the country
offered him few charms in its savage wildness, but he knew that the
scenery would soon change. He moved on down the Rhine to where a
gigantic mountain shuts the rushing current into a narrow space. Its
foot stands chained in the floods, which only in places retire a
little, thus leaving the poor folk a narrow stretch of land.

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