?Nay,? said she; ?it is impossible. The vengeance of Herthe is swift?and awful. I will show thee a spring where we may meet.?
She led him to a place where the stream branched off in five separate rivulets, and bade him meet her there on the following night at a certain hour. The lovers then parted, each full of impatience for the return of the hour of meeting.
Next evening, when the dusk had fallen on the sacred grove of Herthe, Jette made her way to the rendezvous. The appointed time had not yet arrived, but scarcely had she reached the spot ere she fancied she heard a step among the undergrowth, and turned with a glad smile, prepared to greet her lover. Imagine her dismay when instead of the youth a grisly wolf confronted her! Her shriek of terror was uttered in vain. A moment later the monster had sprung at her throat.
Her lover, hastening with eager steps toward the place of meeting, heard the agonized shriek and, recognizing the voice of Jette, broke into a run. He was too late! The monster wolf stood over the lifeless body of his beloved, and though in his despairing fury the youth slew the huge brute, the retribution of Herthe was complete.
Henceforth the scene of the tragedy was called the ?Wolf?s Spring,? and the legend is enshrined there to this day.
The Jester of Heidelberg
Considering the wide fame of Rhenish vintages, it is perhaps not surprising that wine should enter as largely into the Rhine legends as the ?barley bree? is supposed to enter into Scottish anecdote. In truth there runs through these traditions a stream of Rhenish which plays almost as important a part in them as the Rhine itself. We are told that the Emperor Wenzel sold his crown for a quant.i.ty of wine; in the tale connected with Thann, in Alsace, mortar is mixed with wine instead of water, because of the scarcity of the latter commodity during the building of a steeple; while in the legends of ?The Devil?s Vineyard,?
and ?The Cooper of Auerbach? the vintage of Rhineland provides the main interest of the plot. The following quaint little story, attaching to the castle of Heidelberg, is a ?Rhenish? tale in every sense of the word.
In the days when the Schloss Heidelberg was in its most flourishing state the lord of the castle numbered among his retainers a jester, small of stature and ugly of feature, whose quips and drolleries provided endless amus.e.m.e.nt for himself and his guests. Prominent among the jester?s characteristics was a weakness for getting tipsy. He was possessed of an unquenchable thirst, which he never lost an opportunity of satisfying.
Knowing his peculiarity, some youthful pages in the train of the n.o.bleman were minded to have some amus.e.m.e.nt at his expense, and they therefore led him to a cellar in which stood a large vat filled with fragrant wine. And there for a time they left him.
The jester was delighted at the propinquity of his favourite beverage and decided that he would always remain in the cellar, regaling himself with the vintage. His thirst increased at the prospect, so he produced a gimlet, bored a hole in the vat, and drank and drank till at length he could drink no more; then the fumes of the wine overcame him and he sank down in a drunken stupor. Meanwhile the merry little stream flowed from the vat, covered the floor of the cellar, and rose ever higher.
The pages waited at the top of the stairs, listening for the bursts of merriment which were the usual accompaniments of the jester?s drinking bouts; but all was silent as the grave. At last they grew uneasy and crept below in a huddled group. The fool lay quite still, submerged beneath the flood. He had been drowned in the wine.
The joke now seemed a sorry one, but the pages consoled themselves with the thought that, after all, death had come to the jester in a welcome guise.
The Pa.s.sing Bells
There is a legend connected with the town of Speyer in which poetic justice is meted out to the princ.i.p.al characters, although not until after they have died.
The tale concerns itself with the fate of the unfortunate monarch Henry IV. History relates that Henry was entirely unfit to wear the ermine, but weak as he was, and ignominious as was his reign, it was a bitter blow that his own son was foremost among his enemies. At first the younger Henry conspired against his father in secret; outwardly he was a model of filial affection, so that he readily prevailed upon the weak monarch to appoint him as his successor. After that, however, he openly joined himself to his father?s foes; and when the Pope excommunicated the monarch, gradually the Emperor?s following went over to the side of his son, who then caused himself to be invested with imperial honours.
The deposed sovereign, deprived of power and supporters, was compelled to go into exile; even his personal freedom was secured only as the price of his renunciation of the crown. Broken and humiliated, feeling intensely the disgrace of his position, he determined to undertake a pilgrimage to Liege, accompanied only by his servant Kurt, who alone of all his train had remained faithful to him. The pilgrimage was successfully accomplished, but ere he could enter upon the return journey the wretched Emperor died, in want and misery, utterly neglected by his kindred. Even after death the Pope?s ban was effective, so that his corpse was not allowed interment for several years. During that period the faithful Kurt kept guard unceasingly over his master?s coffin and would not suffer himself to be drawn therefrom.
At length, however, Henry V, under pressure from his princes and n.o.bles, gave orders that his father?s remains be conveyed to Speyer and there interred in the royal vault with such honours as befitted the obsequies of a monarch. The messengers found old Kurt still holding his vigil beside the Emperor?s body, and in recognition of his faithfulness he was permitted to follow the funeral cortege to Speyer. There were in the town certain good and pious folk who were touched by the servant?s devotion, and by these he was kindly treated. But all their kindness and attention could not repair the havoc which his weary vigil and long privations had wrought on his health, and a few months later he followed his master to the grave.
Strange to relate, as he expired all the bells of Speyer tolled out a funeral peal such as was accorded to an emperor, and that without being touched by human hands. Meanwhile Henry V also lay dying. All the luxury of his palace could not soothe his last moments; though he was surrounded by courtiers who a.s.sumed sorrow and walked softly, and though all his kindred were around him, he saw ever before him the image of his dead father, pointing at him with a grim, accusing finger. Stricken with terror and remorse, and tortured by disease, he longed for death to end his torments, and at last it came.
Again the pa.s.sing bell was tolled by invisible hands, but not this time the peal which announced the pa.s.sing of an emperor. The citizens heard the awful sound which told that a criminal had paid the law?s last penalty, and asked one another what poor wretch had been executed. Awe and astonishment seized upon everyone when it was known that the Emperor had died, for they knew then that it was no earthly hand that had rung his death-knell.
Legends of Windeck
Concerning the neighbourhood of Windeck, some eight miles from Baden, several interesting tales are current. The castle itself has long enjoyed the reputation of being haunted by the ghost of a beautiful girl, though when or wherefore this originated tradition does not relate. We are told that a young huntsman, whom the chase had driven thitherward, saw the spectre and was so stricken with her charms that day after day he visited the castle, hoping to see her once more. But being disappointed, he at length took up his solitary abode in the deserted fortress, renouncing his former pursuits and ceasing from all communication with his friends.
One day he was found dead in his bed with so peaceful an expression of countenance that those who saw him could not doubt that his end had been a pleasant one. On his finger was a ring of quaint design which he had not been known to wear, and it was whispered among the peasantry that the ghost-maid of Windeck had claimed her lover.
The Hennegraben
Hard by the Schloss Windeck lay a deep trench, known as the Hennegraben, of which traces may still be found. It is rendered immortal by reason of the following romantic legend, which tells of its magical origin.
A certain young knight, lord of the castle of Windeck, for some unknown reason had seized and imprisoned the worthy Dean of Stra.s.sburg. It is true that the Churchman was treated with every consideration, more like a guest than a captive, but he nevertheless resented strongly the loss of his liberty, as did also the good folk of Stra.s.sburg when they learned what had happened.
Two of the Dean?s young kinsfolk resolved to journey to Windeck and beg that their uncle might be set free. On their way thither they had to pa.s.s through a forest, where they met an old woman.
?Whither away, my pretty boys?? said she. ?Will you not tell an old gossip your destination??
The elder of the two replied courteously that they were on their way to Windeck, where their uncle was imprisoned. ?Perchance,? he added timidly, ?the lord may accept us as hostages till the ransom be paid.?
?Perchance,? mimicked the old woman, ?aye, perchance! Think you the knight of Windeck will take such lads as you are for hostages??
And in truth they were not an imposing couple?the elder a slim, fragile youth, whose eyes were already tearful at the prospect of confronting his uncle?s captor; while the younger was a mere boy, sanguine and adventuresome as children often are.
?I will challenge this knight,? said the boy seriously. ?I will draw sword for my uncle, for I also am a knight.?
?Hush, Cuno,? said his brother, smiling in spite of himself at the boy?s ardour. ?We must not talk of fighting. We must entreat the knight to let our uncle go free.?
?What would you have, Imma? Entreat? Nay, that we shall not.? He stopped awkwardly, and his sister?s rising colour showed plainly her embarra.s.sment at having her s.e.x thus suddenly revealed.
The old woman looked at her kindly.
?I knew from the first that thou wert a maid disguised,? she said.
?Go, and G.o.d speed you! Tell the knight of Windeck that the people of Stra.s.sburg mean to attack his castle on the morrow, and that his only means of resisting them is to dig a deep trench across the one possible approach. But stay?there is no time for that; I will give you something wherewith to dig the trench.?
She whistled shrilly and in answer to her call a grey hen fluttered toward her; this she gave to the young people. ?When the moon rises,?
she said, ?take the hen and place it where you wish the trench to be.?
Then with a few words to the hen in a strange tongue, she bade the brother and sister farewell and went on her way.
The two continued their journey and upon arriving at Windeck they were agreeably surprised in the lord of the castle, for he was young and handsome and very courteous, not at all the ogre they had imagined. In faltering tones Imma told him their mission, conveyed to him the old witch?s warning, and presented the grey hen.
When he heard that they proposed to gain their uncle?s freedom by themselves taking his place, the knight regarded his visitors with mingled feelings of pity and astonishment. The gentle, appealing glance of the elder, no less than the naive candour of the younger, appealed to his sympathies. In a very short time Cuno, who had quite forgotten to challenge his host, was on the best of terms with him.
Meanwhile the Dean, very impatient and incensed, paced his small chamber like a caged lion, or bemoaned his lost liberty and meditated on the chances of escape. He was roused from a reverie by the sound of familiar voices outside his cell, and a moment later the door was flung open and Cuno entered unceremoniously.
?You are free, uncle, you are free! Imma and I have come to save you!?
Once more Imma flushed crimson at the revelation of her s.e.x. The astonished knight glanced with a new interest at her beautiful face, with its rosy colour and downcast eyes. Turning to the Dean, he greeted him cordially.
?You are free,? he said. ?Your nephews have promised to remain with me as hostages till you have provided a ransom,? Then, turning humorously to Imma, he added: ?Wilt thou be a soldier in my employ, youth? Or wouldst have a place in my household??
Imma vouchsafed no other reply than a deepening of her colour. She must, however, have found words to utter when, later, the gallant knight begged her seriously to remain at Windeck as his wife?for ere nightfall the old Dean, grumbling and somewhat reluctant, was called upon to consent to his niece?s betrothal. This he did at length, when Imma had joined her entreaties to those of her lover.
That night the grey hen was placed as the witch had advised, and it was as she had said. With the dawn the Stra.s.sburgers arrived before the castle, to find a newly made trench filled with the castle troopers.
When they learned that the Dean was free they called for a truce, and it was not blood, but wine, which flowed that day, for all were invited to share the wedding-feast of Imma and the knight of Windeck.
The Klingelkapelle
On the road between Gernsbach and Eberstein there once stood an ancient, moss-grown cell. It had been occupied by a beautiful pagan priestess, a devotee of Herthe, but when the preaching of the white monks had begun to spread Christianity among the people she left the neighbourhood. In pa.s.sing by that way a Christian monk noticed the deserted retreat and took possession of it, issuing at intervals to preach to the inhabitants of the surrounding country.
One stormy night as he sat within his cell he fancied he heard a pleading voice mingling with the roar of wind and waters. Going to the door, he beheld a young girl who seemed to be half dead with cold and fatigue. The good monk, who was never indifferent to human suffering, drew her quickly inside, bade her seat herself by the fire, and set food and wine before her. When she had recovered a little from the effects of the storm the hermit questioned her with regard to her presence in such a lonely spot and at such an unseasonable hour. The maid replied that she had once dwelt in just such a pleasant and peaceful cell as that in which she now reposed, but that cruel persecution had driven her from her retreat.