In all the Rhine provinces the virtuous spouse of Count Siegfried of
the Palatinate was esteemed and venerated. The people called her St.
Genovefa, which name indeed she was worthy of, as she suffered cruel
trials and sorrows. Siegfried's castle stood near the old town of
Andernach, just at the time when Charles Martel was reigning over the
Franks.
Siegfried and his young wife lived in peaceful unity, till a cloud
came over their happiness. The much-dreaded Arabs from Spain had
forced their way into Gaul, and were now marching northwards, burning
and destroying all on their course. The enemies of the cross must be
repulsed, unless the west was to share the fate of Africa, which had
been subdued by the Mohametans.
The war-cry reached the Palatinate, and Siegfried had to go forth to
the fight. Equipped in his armour, and having kissed his weeping wife,
he bade farewell to the castle of his fathers. But he was sad at heart
at leaving the spot where the happiest days of his life had been
spent. He entrusted the administration of his property to Golo, his
steward, and recommended his beloved wife very earnestly to his
protection, begging her in turn to trust him in everything.
The poor countess was heart-broken at this bitter separation. She felt
the loneliness of the castle deeply, she longed for his happy presence
and the sound of his voice. She could never speak to Golo as to the
friend to whose care her husband had recommended her. Her pure eyes
shrank from the passionate look which gleamed in his. It seemed to her
that he followed her every movement with a look which her childlike
soul did not understand.
She missed her husband's presence more and more. She would go out on
the balcony and weave golden dreams, and while she sat there, looking
out over the hazy blue distance, she longed for the moment when
Siegfried would return, when she could lean her head upon his breast,
and tell him of the great happiness in store for them.
Perhaps the war against the heathens might last so long that she would
be able to hold the pledge of their love joyfully out to him from the
balcony on his return. And the countess' lovely face would be lit up
with a gleam of blissful happiness, and she would while away the time
on her favourite spot, dreaming and looking out into the hazy blue
distance.
The secret aversion which the countess felt towards the steward was
not without a reason. Her angel-like beauty had awakened lustful
passion in Golo's breast, which he did not strive to hide. On the
contrary his frequent intercourse with her, who was as gracious to him
as to all her other inferiors, stirred his passion still more, and one
day, losing all control, he threw himself at the countess' feet,
declaring his love for her, and imploring her to return it. Genovefa
was horrified at this confession. With indignation and scorn she
rejected his love, forbidding him to appear before her as he had
utterly forgotten his duty, and at the same time, threatening to
complain of him to her husband. Golo's eyes flared up, and a deadly
look of hatred gleamed from them.
He could hope for no pardon from his angry mistress. Besides, his
pride would not allow him to seek it, and now his one desire was
revenge. It only remained for him to follow his dastardly plan and to
avoid Siegfried's wrath.
Hatred raged in his breast. He dismissed all the servants of the
castle and put new ones of his own creation in their places. Then one
day he appeared before the horrified countess, and openly accused her
of being unfaithful to her husband far away.
Shame and wrath robbed Genovefa of speech. Golo explained to the
servants who were standing around in silent amazement, that he had
already informed the count of his wife's faithless conduct, and that
he, Golo, as present administrator of the castle, now condemned the
countess to be imprisoned in the dungeon.
The unhappy Genovefa awakened to find herself in an underground cell
of the castle. She covered her face in deep sorrow, imploring Him who
had sent her this trial, to help her in her present affliction. There
after some time a son was born to her. She baptized him with her
tears, giving him the name of Tristan, which means "full of sorrows."