The Twelve Knights in the Schöneburg.
About a Stunde[[1]] from Treseburg, up the Bode, lies the picturesque foundry village Attenbrack, the spot where in the old days Schloss Schöneburg looked down from its high, steep mountain seat into the vale below.
[[1]] Stunde, speaking of distance in Germany, signifies the distance a man can walk in an hour. It is about a German mile, which is equal to four and seven-tenths of an English mile.
On three sides the mountain rises steep from the Bode, being scarcely approachable save from the south side; and in wild confusion lie scattered over the mountain sides shapeless heaps of fallen stones, the sole ruins of the once stately castle; of walls and vaulted chambers no trace remains.
From the south side the height is connected by a narrow tongue of land with the vast forests that cover the high table-lands of the Harz.
Seldom is the spot trodden by the foot of man, except by some benighted traveller, some inquisitive student of history, and the passionate lover of wood and mountain solitude.
More frequently resounds the tread of the hunter in this lonely spot, and of the herdsman, who pastures his cows in the beech forest.
Once a herdsman stood, on St. John's Day, on the narrow path leading to the then not entirely fallen walls, and dreamed of the days of the past, of the Burg and its knights, dames, and maidens, and the treasures that were said to lie concealed under the ruins.
The forest rustled mysteriously, mingled with the dreamy tinkling of the cow-bells.
Suddenly it seemed to him he heard a tumbling noise and loud, merry laughter. This was wonderful, but what he saw was still more astounding. For, stealing forward and looking over the broken walls, he saw twelve knights in antique costume, who amused themselves with the game of skittles.
The herdsman was not sure whether he was awake or dreaming. He rubbed his eyes, and looked bewildered around him, but it could be no illusion, for there stood the oaks and beeches, every tree of which he knew, there grazed his herd to the music of their jingling bells, the dogs cowering watchfully near, and from the valley could be heard the rattle of the foundry.
He saw it all clearly, for it was mid-day, and there within the mouldering walls the twelve knights played on, and he heard the rolling and bouncing of the balls.
But he had not much time for observation, for the knights caught sight of him, and beckoned him to approach.
He did so with trembling.
They treated him gruffly and severely, and commanded him to set up the fallen pins, and he was obliged to yield.
Perhaps an hour had passed in this employment, when lo! no ball more rolled, and looking up to see the cause of the delay, the knights had vanished!
It was not a dream, for all the pins lay there before him; but knowing that his neighbours in Attenbrack would hold him for a dreamer without proof, he decided to take the pins home with him.
But they were so large and heavy, he could not carry them all, so he took only the king.
All listened incredulously to his tale of the knights and old dress, and feared he was not quite right in his head.
Then he drew forth from his pocket the pin, as proof; but it was so heavy he could not hold it, and it fell to the ground with a clear ring; when, lifting it up, it was found to be pure gold.
No one doubted longer, but all hastened to the ruins to get the other eight pins; but they were all only of wood—of light Taxus wood.