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 Zürich. 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 Zürich 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.