[Illustration: Turnier zu Köln--Zu der Sage von Burg Gutenfels]
About the middle of the thirteenth century, there was a stately castle
near Kaub which was inhabited by Count Philip of Falkenstein. There he
lived very happily with his beautiful sister Guta, who was as good as
she was fair.
Numerous knights had sought to win her love, but none had achieved
this conquest, the castle maiden having no desire to exchange her
brother's hospitable home for any other.
At that time a magnificent tournament was held at Cologne, to which
knights from all countries of the kingdom far and near and even from
England were invited.
A great multitude of spectators were assembled to see the stately
knights contending for the prize, which a fair hand would bestow on
them.
Among the nobles present at the tournament was a knight from England,
whose graceful figure and splendid armour were particularly striking.
He wore a veiled visor, and the stewards of the tournament announced
him under the name of "the Lion Knight," a golden lion ornamenting his
shield. Soon the majestic knight's master-like manner of fighting
created a great sensation, and when he succeeded in unhorsing his
opponent, a most formidable combatant, loud rejoicings rang through
the lists.
Count Philip and his sister were among the guests. Guta had been
watching the strange knight with ever increasing interest during the
tournament, regretting at the same time that she could not see his
face.
But an opportunity soon presented itself when the knight was declared
victor. When she was selected to present the prize, a golden
laurel-wreath, to the winner, she became much embarrassed, and a
feeling such as she had never before experienced seized her as she
looked at the Briton's face for the first time.
Perhaps the knight may have read in the lovely maiden's countenance
what she in vain tried to hide from him, perhaps a spark from that
passionate fire which had so suddenly fired her heart, may have flown
into his soul as he knelt before her to receive the wreath, which she
placed on his head with a trembling hand. Who can tell?
Afterwards when these two were conversing together in subdued
whispers, the knight silently admiring her grace and the maiden
scarcely able to restrain her feelings, the thoughts which he longed
to tell her, flamed in his heart. The same evening in the banqueting
hall, when the music was sounding within its walls, he was Guta's
inseparable companion, and eloquent words flowed from his lips telling
her of the love which his eyes betrayed.
The proud stranger begged Guta for her love and swore to be hers; he
told her he must at once return to his country where urgent duty
called him, but that he would come back to claim her in three months'
time. Then he would publicly sue for her hand and declare his name,
which circumstances compelled him to keep secret for the time being.
Love will make any sacrifice; Guta accepted her lover's pledge
willingly, and thus they parted under the assurance that they would
soon meet again.
Five months had passed. That terrible time ensued when Germany became
the battle-field of the party-struggles over the election of the
emperor. Conrad IV., the last of the house of Hohenstaufen, had died
in Italy. In the northern countries there was a great rising against
William of Holland who was struggling for the imperial throne;
Alphonso of Castile was chosen king in one part of the country, while
Richard of Cornwall, son of John, king of England, was elected in
another; but Richard, having received most influential votes, was
crowned at Aix-la-Chapelle, and from thence he started on a journey
through the Rhine provinces, to the favour of which he had been
chiefly indebted for his election.
* * * * *
Spring was casting her bright beams over waves and mountains in the
valley of the Rhine, but in Falkenstein castle no ray of sunshine
penetrated the gloom. Guta, pale and unhappy, sat within its walls,
weaving dreams which seemed destined never to be fulfilled. Sometimes
she saw her lover dying on a terrible battle-field with her name on
his lips, then again laughing and bright with a maiden from that
far-off island in his arms, talking derisively of his sweetheart on
the Rhine. She became more and more conscious that she had given him
her first love, and that he had cruelly deceived her. Sorrow and grief
had taken possession of her, and all her brother's efforts to amuse
her and to distract her attention were in vain.
A great sound of trumpets was heard one day on the highway, and a
troop of knights stopped at the castle. Guta saw the train of warriors
from her window, where she had been sitting weeping. The count with
chivalrous hospitality received them, and led them into the
banqueting-hall. His astonishment was great, when he recognised the
bold Briton, the victor at the tournament in Cologne, as leader of
this brilliant retinue, he who had broken his secret pledge to his
beloved sister. A dark glance took the place of the friendly
expression on his face. The Briton seemed to notice it and pressing
Philip's hand said cordially, "I am Richard of Cornwall, elected
Emperor of Germany, and I have come here to solicit the hand of your
sister Guta, who promised herself to me five months ago in Cologne. I
come late to redeem my promise, but my love is unchanged. I beg you to
announce my arrival to her without betraying my name."
Philip bowed deeply before the illustrious guest, and the retainers
respectfully retired to a distance. The great guest strode up and down
the room impatiently. Then the doors were suddenly thrown open, and a
beautiful figure appeared on the threshold, her face glowing with
emotion.
With a low cry Guta threw herself into her lover's arms, and the first
moments of their reunion were passed in silent happiness.
Philip now entered the room unperceived, and revealed the secret to
his sister. The maiden in great confusion and shame stole a look at
her lover's eyes, and he, drawing her gently to him, asked her to
share all--even his throne with him.
Shortly afterwards Richard celebrated his marriage with imperial
magnificence at the castle on the Rhine, which Philip thence forward
called Gutenfels, in honour of his sister.