Okkenfels:  A Rash Oath

On a rugged crag overlooking the Rhine above the town of Linz stands the ruined stronghold of Okkenfels.  History tells us little or nothing concerning this ancient fortress, but legend covers the deficiency with the tale of the Baron’s Rash Oath.

Rheinhard von Renneberg, according to the story, flourished about the beginning of the eleventh century, when the Schloss Okkenfels was a favourite rendezvous with the rude nobility of the surrounding district.  Though they were none of them distinguished for their manners, by far the most rugged and uncouth was the Baron von Renneberg himself.  Rough in appearance, abrupt in conversation, and inclined to harshness in all his dealings, he inspired in the breast of his only daughter a feeling more akin to awe than affection.

The gentle Etelina grew up to be a maiden of singular beauty, of delicate form and feature, and under the careful tutelage of the castle chaplain she became as good as she was beautiful.  Lovers she had in plenty, for the charms of Etelina and the wealth of her noble father, whose sole heiress she was, formed a combination quite irresistible in the eyes of the young gallants who frequented the castle.  But none loved her more sincerely than one of the baron’s retainers, a young knight of Linz, Rudolph by name.

On one occasion Rheinhard was obliged to set out with his troop to join the wars in Italy, and ere he departed he confided his daughter to the care of the venerable chaplain, while his castle and lands he left in charge of Sir Rudolph.  As may be supposed, the knight and the maiden frequently met, and ere long it became evident that Rudolph’s passion was returned.  The worthy chaplain, who loved the youth as a son, did not seek to interfere with the course of his wooing, and so in due time the lovers were betrothed.

At the end of a year the alarming news reached them that the baron was returning from the wars, bringing in his train a noble bridegroom for Etelina.  In despair the lovers sought the old chaplain and begged his advice.  They knew only too well that the baron would not brook resistance to his will; for he had ever dealt ruthlessly with opposition.  Yet both were determined that nothing should part them.

“I would rather die with Rudolph than marry another,” cried the grief-stricken maiden.  And indeed it seemed that one or other of these alternatives would soon fall to her lot.

But the wise old priest was planning a way of escape.

“Ye were meant for one another, my children,” he said philosophically; “therefore it is not for man to separate you.  I will marry you at once, and I know a place where you may safely hide for a season.”

It was nearing midnight on the eve of the day fixed for Rheinhard’s return, so there was no time to be lost.  The three repaired to the chapel, where the marriage was at once solemnized.  Taking a basket of bread, meat, and wine, a lamp, and some other necessaries, the old man conducted the newly married pair through a subterranean passage to a cavern in the rock whereon the castle stood, a place known only to himself.  Then, having blessed them, he withdrew.