Cologne
Richmodis
of Aducht
It was about the middle of the
fifteenth century.
The shadows of death hovered above the holy City
of Cologne.
A strange figure in dark garments hurried with quick steps through the
streets
and lanes. It was the plague. Its poisonous breath penetrated into
cottages
and palaces, extinguishing the lives of many thousands.
The grave-diggers marked innumerable houses with a
black
cross, to warn the passers-by that the destroying angel had entered
there.
The roll of the dead rose to such numbers that it was impossible to
bury
them all in the customary manner. Therefore the bodies of the
unfortunate
people were thrown together into a common grave, covered only scantily
with
earth and marked with a plain wooden cross.
Woe and sorrow thus filled the old City of
Cologne.
On the New-market, close to the Church of the Apostles, in
a splendid mansion, the rich Magistrate, Mengis of Aducht lived. Wealth
could
not save his house from the dreadful epidemic, his youthful and lovely
wife,
Richmodis, was seized with the plague and died. The grief of her lord
was
boundless. He passed the whole night by the remains of his beloved
spouse,
dressed her himself in the white wedding gown she had worn as a happy
bride
a few years before, decorated the coffin with sweet white flowers, and
covered
her with the precious jewels and costly rings she had loved so much.
Then
she was buried.
Night approached, and the clear starry sky looked
peacefully
down on the afflicted town.
Perfect stillness prevailed in God's acre.
Suddenly a
jarring sound like the opening of an old rusty lock was heard, and two
dark
shadows glided among the graves, on and on till they stopped before the
fresh
mould which enclosed the body of Richmodis of Aducht.
– Those two knew
the
spot, and well they might, for they were the grave-diggers, and had
prepared
this grave themselves on the previous day.
They were present when the lid of the coffin was
screwed
down, and had with hungry looks coveted the glittering precious stones
Richmodis
was to be buried with.
Now they had come to rob the dead body. With spade
and
shovel the wreaths and flowers were quickly removed from the mound, the
earth
dug up, and the coffin laid bare. In feverish haste, spurred on by
their
greed, they burst the lid open, and the dim light of their lantern fell
full
on the mild pale face of the dead woman. With haste the bolder of the
two
wretches loosened the white waxen hands folded together as in prayer,
and
tried to tear off the rings.
Suddenly the body quivered, and the white hands
spread
,out. Aghast the robbers dropped their tools, scrambled in utmost
terror
out of the grave, and fled as if chased by the furies.
A painful long sigh rose from the depth of the
grave,
and after some time the white form of Richmodis who had been buried
alive,
emerged from the tomb.
With wide open eyes, full of horror, she looked down into
the
ghastly bed she had just left.
– Could it really be
true, or was it
only
a frightful dream?
God's acre was silent, but for the rustling of the
autumn
leaves of the weeping willows. Stillness of death everywhere!
– No
answer
came to her faint cry for help.
– The horror of her
situation however
wakened
her declining strength. She took up the lantern which the robbers had
left
behind them and with feeble steps reached the entrance of the
churchyard.
The streets were desolate. The stars overhead
alone perceived
the slowly moving form, every now and then resting against the walls of
the
houses.
– At last she reached
the Newmarket and
stood before the door
of
her home. Dark and quiet it seemed. But from the window in the
magistrate's
room a faint light shone forth. A quiver ran through the frame of the
poor
wife, and a wild longing desire seized her to be sheltered by his
loving
arms and to feel in his embrace that she had really returned to life
again.
With a last effort she seized the knocker, and
listened
with newly awakened hope to the tapping sound Which rang clear through
the
night.
A few minutes elapsed. Then an old servant peeping
.out
.of the window in the door, perceived the white ghostly figure of his
late
mistress. Horror seized him, his hair stood on end. Richmodis called
him
by his name and begged him to open the door. At the sound of her voice
the
old man started, ran upstairs, dashed into his master's room uttering
incoherent
sounds, and stammering: "O Lord, the dead rise; outside stands our good
Mistress
and demands entrance!" But the Magistrate shook his head in deep grief:
"Richmodis, my beloved wife is dead and will never return, never,
never"
he repeated in unspeakable sorrow; "I will rather believe that my two
white
horses will burst from their halters in the stable and mount the stairs
to
the tower."
A terrible sound suddenly filled the quiet house,
a noise
like thunder was heard, and Mengis of Aducht and his servant saw the
two
white steeds tearing and tramping in haste upstairs.
A moment later two horses looked out of the tower
windows
into the night, and shortly afterwards the Magistrate laughing and
crying
with joy at the same time, held in his arms his wife who had returned
from
the grave.
For many years Richmodis lived happily with her
husband,
surrounded by several lovely children. Deep piety remained the motive
power
of Richmodis' being, and nobody ever saw her smile again.
If you come to Cologne, reader, you will still see
the
old house of the Aduchts at the Newmarket, with two white wooden
horses'
heads looking out of the top window.
Click
to go to the next
section of
the Legends of the Rhine
|