At length a commotion passed through the assembly.  A knight had entered the lists whose name was not announced by the herald.  It was whispered that his identity was known only to the Archbishop, whose guest he was.  Of fine stature and handsome features, clad in splendid armour and mounted on a richly caparisoned steed, he attracted not a little attention, especially from the feminine portion of the assemblage.  But for none of the high-born ladies had he eyes, save for Guta, to whom his glance was ever and anon directed, as though he looked to her to bring him victory.  The blushing looks of Guta showed that she was not indifferent to the gallantry of the noble stranger, and, truly, in her heart she wished him well.  With clasped hands she watched the combatants couch their lances and charge.  Ah! victory had fallen to the unknown knight.  Soon it became evident that the mysterious stranger was to carry off the prize of the tourney, for there was none to match him in skill and prowess.  As he rode past the place where Guta sat he lowered his lance, and she, in her pleasure and confusion at this mark of especial courtesy, dropped her glove, which the knight instantly picked up, desiring to be allowed to keep it as a guerdon.

At the grand ball which followed the tourney the victor remained all the evening at Guta’s side, and would dance with no other maiden.  Young Falkenstein, pleased with the homage paid to his sister by the distinguished stranger, invited him to visit them at Caub, an invitation which the gentle Guta seconded, and which the mysterious knight accepted with alacrity.

True to his promise, ere a week had elapsed he arrived at Caub, accompanied by two attendants.  His visit covered three days, during which time his host and hostess did all in their power to make his stay a pleasant one.  Ere he took his departure he sought out Guta and made known his love.  The lady acknowledged that his affection was returned.

“Dearest Guta,” said the knight, “I may not yet reveal to thee my name, but if thou wilt await my coming, in three months I shall return to claim my bride, and thou shalt know all.”

“I will be true to thee,” exclaimed Guta passionately.  “Though a king should woo me, I will be true to thee.”  And with that assurance from his betrothed the knight rode away.

Three months came and went, and still Guta heard nothing of her absent lover.  She grew paler and sadder as time advanced, not because she doubted the honour of her knight, but because she feared he had been slain in battle.  It was indeed a time of wars and dissensions.  On the death of Conrad IV several claimants to the imperial throne of Germany made their appearance, of whom the principal were Adolph, Duke of Holland, Richard, Earl of Cornwall, brother to the English king Henry III, and Alfonso X, King of Castile.  Of these three the most popular was Richard of Cornwall, who was finally chosen by the Electors, more on account of his knightly qualities than because of his fabulous wealth.  Among his most ardent followers was Philip of Falkenstein, who was naturally much elated at his master’s success.  Now, however, the conflict was over, and Philip had returned to Caub.