Part 19 (2/2)
In an instant, almost before her relation was fully ended, she was carried away, and no one could ever learn whither she fled.
A year or two afterwards, a young n.o.bleman, a knight, and one well experienced in all things, took up his abode in those parts. In order that he might ascertain the issue of this affair, he set out on foot with his servant in the middle of the night on the road to the mountain. With great difficulty they made the ascent, and were on their way warned six times by an unknown voice to desist from their attempt.
They kept on, however, heedless of this caution, and at length reached the door of the castle. There again stood the soldier as a sentinel, and he called out as usual--
”Who goes there?”
The n.o.bleman, who was bold of heart, gave for answer--
”It is I.”
Upon this the spirit inquired further--
”Who art thou?”
This time the n.o.bleman made no answer, but desired his servant to hand him his sword. When this was done, a black horseman came riding out of the castle, against whom the n.o.bleman would have waged battle. The horseman, however, dragged him up upon his horse and rode with him into the courtyard, while the soldier chased the servant down the mountain. The n.o.bleman was never more seen.
THE MONKS AT THE FERRY.
From time immemorial a ferry has existed from Andernach to the opposite side of the Rhine. Formerly it was more in use than at present, there being then a greater intercourse between the two sh.o.r.es of the river, much of which might be traced to the Convent of St.
Thomas, once the most important and flouris.h.i.+ng nunnery on the river.
Close by this ferry, on the margin of the Rhine, but elevated somewhat above the level of the water, stands a long, roofless, ruinous building, the remains of the castle of Friedrichstein, better known, however, to the peasantry, and to all pa.s.sengers on the river, as the Devil's House. How it came by this suspicious appellative there are many traditions to explain. Some say that the Prince of Neuwied, who erected it, so ground down his subjects for its construction, that they unanimously gave it that name. Others derive its popular _sobriquet_ from the G.o.dless revelries of the same prince within its walls, and the wild deeds of his companions in wickedness; while a third cla.s.s of local historians insist upon it that the ruin takes its name from the congregation of fiendish shapes which resort there on special occasions, and the riot and rout which they create in the roofless chambers, reeking vaults, and crumbling corridors of the desolate edifice. It is to this ruin, and of the adjacent ferry, that the following legend belongs.
It was in the time when the celebrated Convent of St. Thomas over Andernach existed in its pristine magnificence, that late on an autumnal night the ferryman from that city to the Devil's House on the other side of the river, who lived on the edge of the bank below the ruins of the ancient palace of the kings of Austrasia, was accosted by a stranger, who desired to be put across just as the man was about to haul up his boat for the day. The stranger seemed to be a monk, for he was closely cowled, and gowned from head to foot in the long, dark, flowing garb of some ascetic order.
”Hilloa! ferry,” he shouted aloud as he approached the sh.o.r.e of the river, ”hilloa!”
”Here, ahoy! here, most reverend father!” answered the poor ferryman.
”What would ye have with me?”
”I would that you ferry me across the Rhine to yonder sh.o.r.e of the river,” replied the monk. ”I come from the Convent of St. Thomas, and I go afar on a weighty mission. Now, be ye quick, my good friend, and run me over.”
”Most willingly, reverend father,” said the ferryman. ”Most willingly. Step into my boat, and I'll put you across the current in a twinkling.”
The dark-looking monk entered the boat, and the ferryman shoved off from the bank. They soon reached the opposite sh.o.r.e. The ferryman, however, had scarce time to give his fare a good-evening ere he disappeared from his sight, in the direction of the Devil's House.
Pondering a little on this strange circ.u.mstance, and inwardly thinking that the dark monk might as well have paid him his fare, or, at least, bade him good-night before he took such unceremonious leave, he rowed slowly back across the stream to his abode at Andernach.
”Hilloa! ferry,” once more resounded from the margin of the river as he approached, ”hilloa!”
”Here, ahoy!” responded the ferryman, but with some strange sensation of fear. ”What would ye?”
He rowed to the sh.o.r.e, but he could see no one for a while, for it was now dark. As he neared the landing-place, however, he became aware of the presence of two monks, garbed exactly like his late pa.s.senger, standing together, concealed by the shadow of the ma.s.sive ruins.
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