The Kaiser, who is yet near, turns in joyful surprise in the
direction of the voice. "Merciful Heaven!" he cries, "hast thou
heard our earnest petitions?"
See! From the dark cave issues a light form, and a cry of joy
resounds through the whole forest. And in a blissful embrace kneel
before the Kaiser Werner and Reinhilde.
The Twelve Knights in the Schöneburg.
About a Stunde[1] from Treseburg, up the Bode, lies the picturesque
foundry village Attenbrack, the spot where in the old days Schloss
Schöneburg looked down from its high, steep mountain seat into the
vale below.
[1] _Stunde_, speaking of distance in Germany, signifies the distance
a man can walk in an hour. It is about a German mile, which is equal
to four and seven-tenths of an English mile.
On three sides the mountain rises steep from the Bode, being scarcely
approachable save from the south side; and in wild confusion lie
scattered over the mountain sides shapeless heaps of fallen stones,
the sole ruins of the once stately castle; of walls and vaulted
chambers no trace remains.
From the south side the height is connected by a narrow tongue of
land with the vast forests that cover the high table-lands of the
Harz.
Seldom is the spot trodden by the foot of man, except by some
benighted traveller, some inquisitive student of history, and the
passionate lover of wood and mountain solitude.
More frequently resounds the tread of the hunter in this lonely spot,
and of the herdsman, who pastures his cows in the beech forest.
Once a herdsman stood, on St. John's Day, on the narrow path leading
to the then not entirely fallen walls, and dreamed of the days of the
past, of the Burg and its knights, dames, and maidens, and the
treasures that were said to lie concealed under the ruins.
The forest rustled mysteriously, mingled with the dreamy tinkling of
the cow-bells.
Suddenly it seemed to him he heard a tumbling noise and loud, merry
laughter. This was wonderful, but what he saw was still more
astounding. For, stealing forward and looking over the broken walls,
he saw twelve knights in antique costume, who amused themselves with
the game of skittles.
The herdsman was not sure whether he was awake or dreaming. He
rubbed his eyes, and looked bewildered around him, but it could be no
illusion, for there stood the oaks and beeches, every tree of which
he knew, there grazed his herd to the music of their jingling bells,
the dogs cowering watchfully near, and from the valley could be heard
the rattle of the foundry.
He saw it all clearly, for it was mid-day, and there within the
mouldering walls the twelve knights played on, and he heard the
rolling and bouncing of the balls.
But he had not much time for observation, for the knights caught
sight of him, and beckoned him to approach.
He did so with trembling.
They treated him gruffly and severely, and commanded him to set up
the fallen pins, and he was obliged to yield.
Perhaps an hour had passed in this employment, when lo! no ball more
rolled, and looking up to see the cause of the delay, the knights had
vanished!
It was not a dream, for all the pins lay there before him; but
knowing that his neighbours in Attenbrack would hold him for a
dreamer without proof, he decided to take the pins home with him.
But they were so large and heavy, he could not carry them all, so he
took only the king.
All listened incredulously to his tale of the knights and old dress,
and feared he was not quite right in his head.
Then he drew forth from his pocket the pin, as proof; but it was so
heavy he could not hold it, and it fell to the ground with a clear
ring; when, lifting it up, it was found to be pure gold.
No one doubted longer, but all hastened to the ruins to get the other
eight pins; but they were all only of wood--of light Taxus wood.
The Gegensteine.
In the midst of the bright landscape opposite Schloss Ballenstedt
rise the two huge boulders called the Gegensteine, which mark the
eastern termination of the Devil's Wall.
The taste and passion for the wonderful and mysterious are too strong
in the human mind to permit of these majestic rocks being without
their Sage.
In the time long ago, when all this district was covered with dense
forests, swamps, and morasses, where now ripen the golden corn,
fruits, and every blessing that crowns the husbandman's toil, and
wild beasts preyed on the around-lying mountains, evil spirits
practised their devices in the Gegensteine.
In the distance one could see during the night, especially at
midnight, now fiery balls, now flames of fire rising in the air, and
could hear death cries, or the most delightful tones, which the evil
spirits employed to decoy unwary mortals to destruction.
Many who ridiculed the idea of danger, paying no heed to friendly
warnings, forced their way through thorns and thickets to behold the
mystery, and returned no more.
They were carried by demons through the air, and one heard their
moanings of despair without the power to save them.
Only he who was consecrated to God could approach the Gegensteine
unharmed.
One morning a farmer rode before sunrise from Ballenstedt to
Quedlinburg, to offer prayers and obtain absolution in the convent
church, only just founded by the Kaiserin Matilda--for in Ballenstedt
there was neither church nor pater.
Lost in devotional thoughts, hence without fear, he rode quietly
along; an irresistible languor seized him and he fell asleep.
The nag, feeling no longer the hand guiding the reins, turned aside
to seek for himself a fresh breakfast, stood still, and began to
graze.
The farmer awoke. He rubbed his eyes in amazement, for he found
himself in an unknown spot, in a dark thicket, without road or path;
all around him towered mighty rocks that almost shut him in. He
heard the roaring of water outside, beneath him a raging din, and
before him yawned an awful chasm.
The farmer had never heard of such a wild and savage scene so near
his place of residence, and fancied he had been transplanted through
enchantment to some distant land. Anxiously he gazed around him,
convinced himself he was not dreaming, for the sun was shining upon
the savage rocks, and his nag grazed unconcerned.
The thought occurred to him he might be in the domains of wicked
spirits, and a cold shudder ran over him; but he lacked the courage
to turn back, fearing some monster might follow him. He was indeed
in a painful position, for it was out of the question that he should
remain where he was.
Meanwhile the terrible din and roar had ceased, all grew peaceful,
the birds sang joyfully in the sunlight, and all notion of danger
vanished from his mind.
He gained confidence as he looked around him to mark the place,
resolving the next day to bring his wife and children to see it, and
convince them that all the tales about the terrors of the Gegensteine
were untrue.
"But what may there be in the cave yonder?" he thought.
He would like to know, and now arose a struggle between curiosity and
fear.
"I will venture it!" he cried, dismounted, tied his horse to a tree,
and went with light steps, as if afraid some one might hear him, over
the fallen rocks, and stretched his neck to look into the cave.
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" he cried, clapping his hands together
above his head; "what do my eyes see?" And what did they?
In the middle of the pit, or cavern, a large brewer's copper, full of
gold pieces, every one as large as the palm of the hand.
Upon it rested a silver tray with a border of fiery carbuncles, and
letters and figures in the centre formed of garnets.
Beside the copper lay a new driving-whip, and on the other side lay a
savage black bull-dog.
The farmer stood with crossed arms for at least ten minutes, gazing
at the immense treasures, thinking what was to be done to secure them
without falling into the power of the savage guard--the dog.
At last he exclaimed, "I will attempt it. I will not take much, but
I must have the whip!"
Encouraged, he walked into the cave, his eye always fixed on the dog,
till at last he reached the copper; the dog did not move; he plunged
both hands into the gold coins, filled his pockets, and with two
leaps reached his horse, where he sank down overcome with terror and
joy.
Recovered, he emptied his pockets, counted the glittering coins, and
dreamed thereby of a happy future.
His horse neighed and pawed the ground impatiently.
"Patience, old nag!" he cried; "I must have that beautiful whip."
And again he descended emboldened into the cave, seized the whip, and
turned to go, when his eye fell again upon the tempting gold; he
could not resist the allurement, and plunged both hands, twice into
the copper.
At the second handful the dog rose and ground his teeth in rage; but
Jacob had lost all fear, and cried, "Growl away; but one must have
all good things three times, and I shall take another handful."
But as he did so the eyes of the dog shot fire, an awful groaning and
noise, a raging storm, thunder, lightning, with cracking of the
rocks, broke forth in fury. The earth trembled, the rocks fell upon
each other, trees were rent into splinters, torrents burst from the
rocks, and the heavens enveloped themselves in night and flames.
The unlucky farmer never knew how he got out of the cave; only, as he
came to himself, he remembered having seen the _Gott-sei-bei-uns_[1]
in the midst of a terrible confusion and fire-rain in giant form,
surrounded by a thousand imps, rise out of the pit, holding in one
claw the copper with the gold, in the other the tray.
[1] _Gott-sei-bei-uns_--"God be with us." A name given to the devil;
since when he appeared in disguise to deceive people, he is said to
have used this hypocritical expression.
Was he or had he been dreaming? No, for had he not the whip in his
hand?
But the tremendous weight in his pockets weighed him down. Rejoiced
to think of his treasure, he dived into his pockets for the gold--and
what did he find?
For every piece of gold a pebble, as large again, and not one piece
of gold!
He stared at the stones, crying and trembling with pain and distress.
Still weeping, he mounted his horse, reached home, sank exhausted,
laid himself down in his bed, from which he never rose; and in a
fortnight he lay in his grave.
Since then the foul fiend has guarded his treasures in the
Gegensteine, and in only one way can the enchantment be broken and
the treasure won.
When a maiden, born on the ocean, pure as the dawn, comes here alone
at the midnight hour of Halloween, kneels, and with raised hand calls
her own name aloud three times, and then entreats the Most High to
break the enchantment, and annihilate the monster in the rocks, they
shall sink at her prayer, the treasures of gold and gems shall rise
to the surface, become the maiden's possession, and the hobgoblin
shall vanish for ever.
The Three Crystal Goblets and Three Golden
Balls of Schloss Falkenstein.
The Lady von Falkenstein was once summoned by the _Berggeist_[1] to
attend the Queen of the Gnomes in her extremity. He conducted her
through long dark subterranean passages to her fairy Majesty; and,
after the birth of a son, the Queen presented her with three golden
balls and three crystal goblets, with the warning to preserve them
well, for the fate of the Asseburgs was closely connected with them.
[1] Berggeist--spirit of the mountains.
The three golden balls have been unhappily lost, and only two goblets
remain.
Two sons of the family, when visiting their widowed mother at
Wallhausen, besought her to permit them to drink out of these
mysterious goblets, which she imprudently allowed; and as they struck
their glasses together with a merry prosit, one was shattered.
Deep melancholy seized the youths, and during their drive home the
wild horses plunged with the carriage into a deep abyss, where the
youths were found broken in pieces.
Since then the two remaining ghostly gifts have been sacredly
preserved--one, of green-yellow glass, in Hinneburg; the other, of
mountain crystal, in Falkenstein.