The robbers were taken in chains to Bonn, where for their many crimes they suffered the extreme penalty of the law.

Rosebach and its Legend

The quiet and peaceful valley of Hammerstein is one of the most beautiful in all Rhineland, yet, like many another lovely stretch of country, this valley harbours some gruesome tales, and among such there is one, its scene the village of Rosebach, which is of particular interest, as it is typical of the Middle Ages, and casts a light on the manner of life and thought common in those days.  For many centuries there stood at this village of Rosebach a monastery, which no longer exists, and it was probably one of its early abbots who first wrote down the legend, for it is concerned primarily with the strange events which led to the founding and endowment of this religious house, and its whole tenor suggests the pen of a medieval cleric.

In a remote and shadowy time there lived at Schloss Rosebach a certain Otto, Count of Reuss-Marlinberg of Hammerstein; and this Count’s evil deeds had made him notorious far and near, while equally ill-famed was his favourite henchman, Riguenbach by name, a man who had borne arms in the Crusades and had long since renounced all belief in religion.  This ruffian was constantly in attendance on his master, Otto; and one day, when the pair were riding along the high-road together, they chanced to espy a bewitching maiden who was making her way from a neighbouring village to the convent of Walsdorf, being minded to enter the novitiate there and eventually take the veil.  The Count doffed his hat to the prospective nun, less because he wished to be courteous than because it was his habit to salute every wayfarer he encountered on his domain; and Riguenbach, much amused by Otto’s civility to one of low degree, burst into a loud laugh of derision and called after the maiden, telling her to come back.  She obeyed his behest, and thereupon the two horsemen drew rein and asked the damsel whither she was bound.  “To Walsdorf,” she replied; and though Otto himself would have let her go forward as she pleased, the crafty Riguenbach was not so minded.  “There are many dangers in the way,” he said to the girl; “if you push on now that evening is drawing near you may fall a prey to robbers or wolves, so you had better come to the castle with us, spend the night there, and continue your journey on the morrow.”  Pleased by the apparently friendly offer, and never dreaming of the fate in store for her, the girl willingly accepted the invitation.  That night the people around Schloss Rosebach heard piercing screams and wondered what new villainy was on foot.  But the massive stone walls kept their secret, and the luckless maiden never again emerged from the castle.

For a time the Count’s crime went unpunished, and about a year later he commenced paying his addresses to Eldegarda, a lady of noble birth.  In due course the nuptials of the pair were celebrated.  The bride had little idea what manner of man she had espoused, but she was destined to learn this shortly; for on the very night of their marriage an apparition rose between the two.