King. Their hearts died within them, when they remembered how harshly
they had spoken of him: but they rejoiced at the same time to know that
it was he. They all rose up and went in haste to honor him whom they
had scorned of late.
When they reached the palace gate, however, they were not permitted
to enter. The angel who had rung the bell had entered the palace
before them, and had taken away with him the imperial soul that had
unselfishly loved his fellow men.
THE TWO BAKER BOYS
Many, many years ago the people in Germany lived in little towns with
high walls around them. They built walls around their towns because
they had quarrels with other towns. The walls protected them against
their enemies.
Sometimes people kept bee-hives on the high walls. The bees could fly
away into the fields outside and gather honey. There were not many
flowers inside the city to get honey from.
One morning two baker boys were hungry. They had to get up very early.
Some fine rolls had just been taken from the oven. The boys thought it
would be fine to have some rolls and honey.
“Let’s go up on the walls and get some honey out of one of the hives,”
said John.
“But the bees will sting us,” answered James. “Besides the watchman on
the walls might see us. Then we would be in trouble of another kind.”
John, however, persuaded James to go. The two boys stole out of the
shop, and ran across the street.
In a few minutes they were creeping up the stairs that led to the top
of the wall.
There was no watchman to be seen. He had gotten sleepy probably, and
had gone somewhere to rest. But there was a noise coming from somewhere.
The boys listened, but all was quiet again. They made their way quietly
along the wall till they came to the hives.
Then they covered their faces and got ready to rob the bees of their
treasure. John was just lifting the top from one of the hives, when he
heard another strange noise. He dropped the hive hurriedly.
The noise seemed to come from the outside of the wall. The boys looked
over, and saw a small army. It was the people of Linz, who had come to
attack the town.
Both boys were terribly frightened at first. They saw, however, that
something must be done to save the town.
“James,” said John, “you run yonder and ring the bell. I will tumble
the bee-hives down on their heads.”
James did as he was told. John pushed a hive over the wall. It fell
on the leader’s head and went to pieces. The bees were angry at being
disturbed in this way. They flew at the men and stung their hands and
faces, so that they were glad to run away.
Another bee-hive came tumbling down and then another. And the angry
bees put the whole army to flight.
By this time the bell had called the people out to defend the town. But
the army had already departed. The two boys and the bees had saved the
town.
The boys were not punished. Instead the people praised them for their
wise acts. It was decided to erect a monument in their honor.
One of the boys afterwards became mayor of the city. The other was long
known as the most famous baker of his time.
THE EMPEROR’S WOOING
The little town of Caub is very old. Above it in olden days rose
the Castle of Gutenfels. Here many years ago lived Philip, Count of
Faulkenstein and his only sister, Guda. This brother and sister were
orphans, and lived together there happily.
Many suitors had come to seek the hand of the beautiful Guda, but she
was happy in her brother’s love and wished no other. Often Philip urged
her to choose a husband from among the many wooers.
“My dear sister,” he said, “the time may come when I shall have to
leave you. War may break out at any time.”
“I have no desire for any love or protection except yours, my dear
Philip. I have never seen anyone as yet who has made me wish to leave
you.”
Count Philip and Guda used to be a great deal together; where one went
the other went, too. So when the great tournament was held at Cologne
they set out together to see it. The tournament was attended by a large
number of knights. One of them seemed to be greatly attracted by Guda’s
beauty. He had won all the prizes in the contest, and yet remained
unknown to everyone except the bishop.
The manners and conversation of the unknown knight pleased everyone,
and especially the Count of Faulkenstein. So much was he charmed by
the bearing of the victorious knight that he invited him to visit his
castle at Gutenfels. This invitation the knight eagerly accepted.
Philip and Guda welcomed him warmly and were very much delighted with
their new friend. The stranger’s admiration for Guda became more and
more plain; day by day he grew fonder of the beautiful girl.
“I should delight in lingering here forever,” he said at last.
This, however, could not be, for there was a great war in Germany. The
Emperor had died leaving no heir, so there were many who claimed the
right to the throne. Richard of Cornwall had most supporters. Many of
the nobles had declared for him, and were ready to take up arms in his
behalf.
Among those who departed for the war was Philip Faulkenstein. He set
out, leaving behind him his guest, who promised to follow within three
days, to fight by his side.
“Before I go,” he declared, “I must receive a certain message.”
Two days later the message came. In the meantime the knight had won
Guda’s love and her promise to wait for him until his return. So
Guda was left alone in the Castle of Gutenfels. Many hours she spent
thinking about her absent lover and wishing for his return.
At last the war was ended and her brother came back, yet Guda was not
happy. She began to grow anxious, for she had received no tidings from
her knight.
Weeks passed by. The anxious days stole the color from her cheeks. At
last she withdrew to her chamber in sorrow, for she was sure that her
knight was dead. She did not even wish to appear when the new Emperor,
Richard of Cornwall came to visit her brother at the castle.
When the Imperial Guest came he was clad from head to foot in heavy
armor. He refused even to raise his vizor.
“I have come,” he said, “on a personal errand. I have often heard of
the great beauty of your sister Guda and I wish to make her Empress.”
Philip was overjoyed at the prospect of such a happy marriage for his
sister. Joyfully he bore the Emperor’s offer to her.
“Alas, my brother,” she said, “it is impossible for me to accept the
Emperor’s love; mine belongs to another.”
When her reply was carried to the Emperor, he listened calmly, without
the least sign of displeasure.
“May I,” he said, “have the pleasure of beholding the lady? Perhaps I
may be able to win a more favorable answer.”
With vizor still lowered, and speaking in muffled tones, the Emperor
addressed Guda.
“Why, fair lady, do you refuse the suit of your Emperor? Forget your
former lover; he is either dead or faithless.”
“Sire,” she replied, “you do me the greatest honor in the world, yet
can I not accept it. I must remain true to him to whom I have given my
love. He may be dead, but I am sure he is not faithless.”
At this the Emperor threw up his vizor and clasped Guda in his arms.
As she looked into his bright face, she recognized him who had won her
love as a simple knight.
[Illustration]
She no longer refused to listen to his suit. Soon afterward she married
Richard Cornwall and became Empress of Germany.
THE MAGIC RING
Charlemagne was king of France and emperor of Germany. He had married
a beautiful eastern princess, whose name was Frastrada. His love for
her was so great that his only thought was to give her happiness. All
wondered at his devotion, but none suspected the cause.
Frastrada had a wonderful gold ring. On it were inscribed mystic signs.
Frastrada wore the ring continually, and it was this magic talisman
that had worked such a charm.
But the new queen did not long enjoy her power. A great illness
overtook her. During this time she thought often of the magic treasure
and feared it would pass into other hands. So she slipped the ring from
her finger into her mouth and quietly breathed her last.
The Emperor was quite overcome with grief. He refused to have the queen
taken to the cathedral, but stayed constantly by her side.
In vain the councilors and courtiers plead with him. In vain Turpin,
the prime minister, told him that the people had need of him. He
refused to leave the chamber where the queen lay, or to partake of
food. At last he fell asleep at his post.
Turpin felt convinced that the queen possessed some charm, so he stole
noiselessly to her bedside. After some time he found the ring. He
concealed it in his own clothing, and sat down to wait for Charlemagne
to awaken.
Soon the Emperor opened his eyes. He turned from the queen with a
shudder.
“Turpin, my faithful friend!” he cried, as he threw himself in the
arms of the prime minister. “Your presence is like balm to my wounded
heart! You shall remain by my side forever!”
From that time on, Turpin was forced to accompany Charlemagne wherever
he went. The courtiers wondered at Turpin’s influence. Many of them
were quite jealous. As for poor Turpin, he was wearied beyond all
expression. He could find no rest either by night or by day. Vainly he
sought for some plan by which he might rid himself of the troublesome
gem.
At length it happened that Charlemagne and Turpin set out from the
palace of Ingelheim on a journey to the north. They camped one night in
a great forest. While his master lay asleep Turpin left the camp and
wandered out into the moonlight alone. Not once before, since he had
found the ring, had he been free from the Emperor.
His heart swelled with a feeling of relief as he plunged into the
pathless forest. On and on he wandered, trying to think of some way
to rid himself of the troublesome ring. Like Frastrada, he did not
want anyone else to come into possession of it and thus get such an
influence over the Emperor.
After long wandering he found himself at the opening of a beautiful
glade. Before him lay a quiet pool embosomed in the dark woods. The
moonlight flooded the retired spot and shone like silver over the deep
and quiet waters.
Turpin was lost in admiration. He sat down on a stone and feasted his
eyes in silence on the peaceful beauty of the scene. Soon the thought
of the magic ring came to disturb his happiness.
“What shall I do with it?” he groaned.
He drew it from its hiding place in his breast and examined it closely.
“Ah!” he muttered, “what is this I see?”
He noticed by the pale light of the moon that the ring bore something
else beside the strange signs. On it was the image of a tiny swan. He
looked at it in amazement; for he had never seen the swan before.
He started up, then stopped suddenly.
“Why not?” he asked himself. “Those deep and quiet waters would soon
close over and conceal the ring forever.”
A moment later the jewel flashed beneath the rays of the moon. A slight
splash was borne along by the night air. Ever widening ripples broke
the mirror-like surface of the pool. In the distance a snowy swan
appeared sailing with stately calm over the ruffled waters.
Delighted to be rid of the hateful jewel, Turpin now made his way back
to the tent. Charlemagne was awake and greeted him as in the days of
old. The charm was broken.
The morning sun rose bright and clear. The Emperor, however, became
restless. He proposed that they tarry in the spot another day and
hunt in the forest. Turpin agreed, and soon the forest echoes were
awakened by the clangor of the hunting horns.
[Illustration]
A royal stag was started from covert. Closely the huntsmen and hounds
followed it. At last, panting and exhausted, it was brought to bay in a
remote glade,--the very place which Turpin had visited the night before.
Charlemagne had been foremost in the chase all the morning. Now he sat
motionless in his saddle, gazing in spellbound admiration at the sunny
stretch of water. He observed the reflection of the blue sky, and the
swans gliding over its smooth surface.
“Ah! how beautiful!” he exclaimed. “I would fain linger here forever.”
Then he dismounted and threw himself down upon the smooth grass by the
edge of the pool. There he remained in dreamy content all day long.
At last the shadows began to lengthen. The glow of the setting sun was
reflected in the miniature lake. Charlemagne was so enchanted with the
scene that he vowed to build a castle there. The vow was kept, and the
structure that arose was the beginning of Charlemagne’s capital and
favorite city, Aix-la-Chapelle.
When many years had passed, death came to the great Emperor. He was
laid at rest in the cathedral vault, not far from the spot he loved so
well.
Strangers visiting Aix-la-Chapelle are told not to visit the magic pool
by moonlight. At the mystic hour when Turpin dropped the ring into the
quiet waters, the spell recovers all its former powers. Accordingly,
should any one visit it at that time, his longing heart would always
lead him back to the charmed spot, however far away he might be
wandering in the wide world.
CHARLEMAGNE’S GENEROSITY
Charlemagne had had a new palace built for him in a beautiful spot near
the Rhine. When it was completed he went to visit it. The first night
that he slept in the palace, a very strange incident occurred. An angel
came and stood by his bedside.
“Arise,” it seemed to say to him, “arise, go forth and enter secretly
the house of Arnot.”
The Emperor was so astonished at this command that he did not know what
to do. He could scarcely believe that such an order could come from
an angel, so he did not move, but the command was repeated, and then
repeated again.
When the angel commanded him the third time to go and enter secretly
the house of Arnot, he arose, went quietly to his stable, saddled
his horse himself, and rode silently out into the darkness, in the
direction of the home of Arnot, one of his most trusted ministers.
As he was going along the dark way thoughtfully, he heard someone
approaching, and he soon perceived that it was a knight clad in dark
armor. Charlemagne could think of no good mission upon which a man
could be riding at such an hour; so he challenged the man.
“Whither goest thou, and upon what mission at this hour of the night?”
he demanded.
The knight did not answer, but put spurs to his horse and charged upon
the Emperor. Seeing this movement, the Emperor did likewise, and the
two met with a violent shock. Both were unhorsed, and in the hand to
hand conflict which followed, the Emperor got the better of the unknown
knight and brought him to the ground. With his sword at the throat of
the knight he demanded his name.
[Illustration]
“I am Elbegast,” he replied, “a notorious robber knight, and have
committed many a bold deed. Thou art the first that has had power to
overcome me.”
“Arise,” said the Emperor, without telling who he was, “and come with
me. I am on a mission like thine own.”
Without hesitating, the robber knight joined his conqueror.
“I have vowed,” said the Emperor, “not to return home until I have
broken into the house of the Emperor’s most trusted minister.” So
saying, he led the way to the house of Arnot.
Elbegast was not long in gaining entrance. Bidding his companion wait
for him outside, he stole noiselessly into the house.
As he approached the bed room of the minister, the sound of voices
in earnest conversation came to his ears. He listened, and heard the
minister disclose to his wife a plan for the murder of the Emperor on
the following day.
Forgetting the purpose for which he had come to the house, the knight
made his way hastily back to his companion and besought him to go at
once to Charlemagne and inform him of the coming danger.
“I, myself would gladly go to save the Emperor’s life, but I would
surely get into trouble, because of my many evil deeds, and more than
likely the Emperor would not believe me. But whatever I have done,
I hold great admiration for the man who has never been conquered in
battle, and who has always worked for the good of his people.”
Then Charlemagne and Elbegast parted, one returning to his stronghold
in the mountains and the other retracing his steps slowly and
thoughtfully to his palace.
On the morrow the ministers attempted to carry out the plot which
they had formed against the Emperor; but their plans were thwarted.
Charlemagne took all of them into custody and they confessed their
plot against him.
Charlemagne, however, was of a noble and generous nature, and pardoned
all those who had conspired against him. This generosity on his part
made them so ashamed of their plot that they vowed to serve him ever
afterward with all true loyalty. And it is said that every one of them
kept his promise faithfully.
Charlemagne then set his mind upon reforming Elbegast, and sent a
messenger to him, requesting him to come to the palace.
“I, Charlemagne, Emperor of Germany,” his message ran, “would speak
privately with Elbegast, the robber knight, and promise him safe
conduct to and from the castle.”
Elbegast came to the palace in response to the request of Charlemagne,
and was admitted to the private council chamber. Soon a man entered,
clad in armor; and Elbegast recognized the knight who had been his
companion on the adventure to the house of Arnot.
“Elbegast,” said Charlemagne, “you recognize me and yet you do not know
me.”
Then Charlemagne raised his visor, and the knight saw that he was
standing in the presence of the Emperor.
“You have done me,” went on the Emperor, “faithful duty, and I am ever
in need of faithful servants, and offer you a place among my retainers.
A man of your courage and skill is worthy of a place in the Emperor’s
service.”
Elbegast was so moved that he could scarcely speak. Charlemagne was the
only man who had ever been able to disarm him, and he therefore admired
him greatly. More than this, the kindness of the Emperor appealed to
him. Accordingly he willingly forsook his evil way of life and became a
devoted follower of the Emperor.
THE SILVER BRIDGE
There was a spot on the Rhine near the little hamlet of Kempten that
Charlemagne, the great Emperor, always loved. There the sun seemed ever
to shine more brightly than elsewhere; there the air was balmiest; and
there the quiet and peacefulness always calmed his spirit, and filled
it with joy.
To this place he seemed always to come when he was worried with matters
of state. When he returned from a journey or a war, he always paid his
first visit to this lovely spot.
All his life long, this was the favorite spot of the great Emperor. He
loved to see it by daylight, and he loved it by moonlight. Often did he
wander there at night, when all the rest of the world was asleep. The
green hills, the vineclad slopes, and the pleasant glades were more
soothing to him than sleep.
He even desired to be buried in this place, but his people would not
have it so; and the great man was buried in state in the beautiful
cathedral that he had built at Aix-la-Chapelle.
But even after death his spirit longed to visit the spot that had
brought so much peace into his life. It is said that his spirit visits
the place yearly in the late summer time, even to this day.
On the most beautiful moonlight night of all the year, people say,
Charlemagne leaves his tomb in the great cathedral and comes to this
quiet valley of the Rhine. He comes not to do harm, nor simply to rest
and enjoy the place. His purpose is to bless the spot which was such a
blessing to him during his life.
On the nights when Charlemagne’s spirit visits the place, the silvery
moonbeams may be seen to make a fairy bridge across the river. On this
bridge the great monarch’s spirit passes across the Rhine.
[Illustration]
He glides back and forth, bestowing his blessing on everything in
the neighborhood. Every little village, every cottage, every hill
and valley, the vineyards, the shore, and the great peaceful river
itself--all receive his blessing.
Last of all he visits the palace which he built here and called
Ingelheim, or Angel’s Home. From here he returns to his rest again.
The people in this little valley are said to be more prosperous than
those of any other locality along the Rhine. They are also more
happy and more healthy. Their vineyards are always richly laden with
beautiful clusters of grapes.
If at any time their vineyards do not bear, the people know that for
some mysterious reason the spirit of Charlemagne failed to pay the
yearly visit. They look forward, however, to the coming year, knowing
that their harvest will be greater than ever.
The great spirit of the Emperor never fails them two years together.
So century after century Charlemagne has bestowed his blessing on this
country that he loved. On moonlight nights the people along the river
will point out to you the silver bridge on which he passes back and
forth over the river visiting blessing upon everyone.
THE PET RAVEN
Over the gate of the Castle of Stolzenfels is the figure of a Raven.
It has been there for several hundred years. It was placed there in
gratitude for the help a pet raven had rendered the Princess at a time
when she was in great danger.
Othmar and Williswind were brother and sister. Since the death of their
parents they had lived together in the beautiful castle, and had grown
to love each other dearly. They were always together.
The time came when war broke out, and Othmar was called away. His going
grieved Williswind sorely. Now she would have no one but the servants
with her in the great Castle.
“My dear brother,” she exclaimed, “what shall I do without you?”
“Sister mine,” replied Othmar, “I grieve to leave you thus alone, but
you know it is impossible for me to do otherwise.”
Othmar took with him all the able bodied men. Only the old men, women
and children were left at home to protect his sister.
In those days many lawless robber knights roamed through the forests,
doing whatever pleased them. Afraid of these, Williswind ordered that
the Castle gates should be kept closed all the time.
One evening as she sat in the great hall of the Castle with her
servants about her, a trumpet sounded at the gate. The women stopped
their spinning, and the men ceased their polishing of arms and armor.
The Warder entered announcing that there was a pilgrim at the gate
begging for shelter.
“Admit him at once,” said Williswind.
In a few moments the Warder returned, accompanied by the pilgrim.
“Be welcome to our cheer, stranger. Such as we have we give freely,”
said Williswind.
“Thanks, fair lady, for your kindness,” replied the stranger, glancing
about the room.
The pilgrim was clad in worn garments, yet did not seem like a beggar.
At times cruelty and cunning appeared in his face. Secretly he looked
about as if to examine every part of the castle. His strange manner
caused Williswind great uneasiness. The thought came to her that he
might possibly be a robber knight in disguise.
In the morning, however, the pilgrim departed peaceably, and the young
princess felt calm once more. The days passed quietly by and Williswind
began to look forward to her brother’s return. One morning the pilgrim
suddenly returned, but not this time in pilgrims garments. He was clad
in full armor, and came with a large number of followers.
“I come,” he said, “to demand the hand of the Princess Williswind in
marriage, and if she denies me I will take her by force.”
“I beseech you,” replied Williswind, “depart and leave me in peace. I
have love for none but my brother, and desire only to be left here with
my servants to await quietly his return.”
But the evil knight only repeated his demand, saying that he would
return in three days for an answer. If at the end of that time
Williswind did not consent freely, he would take the Castle by force
and carry her away.
What was to be done? Her brother was too far away to come to her aid.
She decided, however, to send a message to him, asking him to come at
once.
Knowing that it would be unsafe for the princess to remain in the
Castle the old Warder persuaded Williswind to set out for a Convent,
which was not many miles away.
[Illustration]
The robber knight, however, had left spies all about the castle and
the princess had not gone very far with her followers, when they were
overtaken by the knight himself.
The servants with Williswind fought bravely, but they were soon
overcome. The bold knight carried Williswind and her maid off to a
lonely tower in the woods.
“Here I shall leave you,” he said; “but I will return in three days to
receive your answer.”