Only a few mouldering ruins now show where one of the proudest
strongholds of the Rhine country, Castle Altenahr, once stood. A
legend relates the mournful story of the last of the race which had
lived there for centuries.
This man was a very stubborn knight, and he would not bow down to or
even acknowledge the all-powerful archbishop, whom His Majesty the
Emperor had sent into the Rhine country as protector of the church.
Unfortunately the bishop was also of a proud and unyielding character,
and he nursed resentment in his heart against this spurner of his
authority.
It was not long before his smouldering rancour blazed into an open
feud, and the mighty bishop, accompanied by a large band of followers,
appeared before the proud castle of Altenahr. A ring of iron was
formed round the offending vassal's hold.
But its owner was not disturbed by this formidable array, and only
laughed sneeringly at the besiegers' useless trouble, knowing well
that they would never be able to storm his rocky stronghold.
The warlike priest saw many of his little army bleeding to death in
vain. He was very wrathful, but nevertheless undismayed.
He had sworn a great oath that he would enter this invincible hold as
a conqueror, even if the fight were to last till the Judgment Day; the
lord of Altenahr had sworn a similar oath, and these two powerful foes
were well matched.
Thus the siege continued for some months. The besieger's anger grew
hotter, for every attack cost him the lives of numbers of his
followers, and all his efforts seemed useless.
Already there was an outburst of discontent in his camp; many servants
and vassals deserted from such a dangerous venture. Revolt and
disobedience seemed on one occasion to threaten a complete dissolution
of the besieging army, as a desperate attack had been again repulsed
by the hidden inhabitants of the fort.
The bishop's allies urged the unrelenting man to desist from his
merciless purpose, but he received their protests with a sneer: "When
you leave me, my greater ally, hunger, will draw near. It will come,
that I am sure of." Then followed an uproar of confused voices;
mutinous troopers, now become bold by the wine they had taken, fell to
brawling with their leader. The bishop's grim smile died away.
"Wait my men, just wait for one more attack," he cried in a powerful
voice, "it will be the fiercest and the last," and with a dark face he
turned and strode away.
* * * * *
Dawn was creeping over the valley of the Ahr. There was a great stir
in the camp on the side of the mountain, and up above, in the castle
of Altenahr, silence reigned round hazy pinnacles. Suddenly a flourish
of trumpets was heard, and the drawbridge having been let down, the
lord of the castle galloped forth on a milkwhite charger, his tall
figure towering over the animal, the feather of his helmet waving
above his grey hair, and the first rays of the rising sun irradiating
his steel armour.
Holding his steed with a firm grip, he raised his right hand to the
shouting besiegers, signifying that he wished to speak. His voice
sounded far and wide.
"See here the last man and the last charger of all those who lived in
my tower. Hunger has snatched them all from me, wife, child, comrades.
They all preferred death to slavery. I follow them, unvanquished and
free to the last."
The noble animal reared up at the spur of its rider ... a great
spring, followed by a thundering crash ... then the Ahr closed her
foaming waters over man and steed.
A shudder seized those who were looking on. The dark countenance of
their leader became pale as death, and he rode off without a moment's
delay, followed by the curses of his mutinous troops.
Since that time the castle of Altenahr has remained deserted; no one
dared to enter the chambers hallowed by the memory of this heroic
defence. Thus it was avoided by mankind, till time gnawed at its walls
and destroyed its battlements.