in every fray and making his name a terror to the Saracens.  But the brave crusader was wounded eventually, and now he set out for Germany, thirsting all the way for a sight of his beloved Siebengebirge, and dreaming of the wind-swept schloss which was his home.  As he drew nearer to it he pictured the welcome which his fond Herzogin would give him, but scarcely had the drawbridge been lowered to admit him to his castle ere a fell piece of news was imparted to him.  In short, it transpired that his wife Elise had been unfaithful to him during his absence and, on hearing that he was returning, had fled precipitately with her infant son.  It was rumoured that she had found refuge in a convent, but Wolfram was quite unable to ascertain his wife’s whereabouts, the doors of all nunneries being impassable to men; while even the joy of revenge was denied him, for, try as he might, he could not find out the name of the person who had wronged him.  So the Herzog was broken-hearted, and he vowed that henceforth he would live a solitary life within his castle, spending his time in prayer and seeing only his own retainers.

For many years this vow was piously observed, and Wolfram never stirred abroad.  In course of time, however, he began to chafe at the restraint, feeling it the more acutely because he was an old soldier and had known the excitement of warfare; and so it came about that he revoked his decision and began to travel about the country as of old.  It seemed also, to some of his henchmen, that he was gradually becoming more like his former self, and they sometimes said among themselves that he would marry again and had quite forgotten his wrongs.  But the very reverse was the truth, and if Wolfram was growing more cheerful, it was because new hopes of retribution were springing up in his heart.  The chance would come, he often told himself; surely the fates would one day confront him with his wife’s lover!  And one day, as he rode through the village of Gudesburg, these revengeful thoughts were uppermost in his mind.  They engrossed him wholly, and he took little heed of the passers-by; but an unexpected stumble on the part of his horse caused him to look up, and of a sudden his eyes blazed like live coals.  Here, walking only a few yards away from him, was a youth who bore an unmistakable resemblance to the unfaithful Elise; and dismounting instantly, the Herzog strode up to the stranger, hailed him loudly, and proceeded to question him concerning his identity.  The youth was surprised at the anger expressed on the elder man’s countenance; and being overawed, he answered all questions without hesitation, unfolding the little he knew about his parentage.  Nor had Wolfram’s instincts deceived him; the tale he heard confirmed his suspicions, and drawing his sword, he slew the youth in cold blood, denying him even a moment in which to repeat a paternoster.

A rude iron cross, still standing by the road at Gudesburg, is said to mark the place where the ill-starred and unoffending young man met his doom.  Possibly this cross was erected by Wolfram himself because he experienced remorse, and felt that he had been unduly hasty in taking life; but be that as it may, the story concludes by asserting that the Herzog once more vowed that he would spend the rest of his days in solitude and prayer, and that henceforth to the end his vow remained unbroken.