Part 3

“This king,” they murmured, “in his wealth and power, enjoying the blessings of youth, has not known what we have suffered, and therefore cannot appreciate our gratitude. While we were starving in our hovels, he was sitting in his castle, quaffing wine. We can expect nothing from him.”

“At least,” clamored others, “let the great bell be rung, for the thirty-three years are now almost over. We shall never hear its notes of gladness unless it be rung today.”

“No,” replied the king still, “but if you will, go and pray that the Lord may send His angel down to ring the bell, if in His perfect knowledge he sees a being who is worthy of the honor.”

That night many people waited before the church, praying that God in His goodness might send a spirit from on high to ring the silver bell.

The night slowly passed away, and lo, the sun’s first rays were just about to come up over the mountains. Suddenly the sun seemed to pause; the dusk continued. Then there came, as it were, a splendor from the clouds, the brightness of which rested on the church and its tower. The waiting multitude all looked up in astonishment. The bell began to peal. It sent forth its angelic notes--notes such as no human being had ever heard before. The waiting people were enraptured. It seemed to them as if all the Heavenly Host were singing for joy.

The song of the bell was of peace and good will toward men. The sounds echoed and re-echoed among the mountains, and were borne away to the farthest valleys.

Just as the first light of the sun peeped up over the horizon, the splendors faded from the tower and in their stead there appeared the figure of a man clad in light. Across the tower there seemed to be a row of letters. The people looked up and read: “Behold, the man who loved truly his fellow men.”

Then everyone fell to his knees, for there stood the figure of their 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.

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.

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.

“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.

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.