The Lady Bertha of Elz was left by her brother, who had gone to fight in the Holy Land, to take care of the castle of Elz; her lover, Count Edmund, had died, and she mourned for him whom she so dearly had loved.
One evening, when the stars were consoling her for the loss of her lover, she sat gazing on them, and tranquillity fell on her heart.
The hours silently passed, and the lady prepared for her rest, little thinking how near to its final repose life was passing. Suddenly she saw glittering of helmets, and heard noises of clanking of armour below in the valley. Rousing her attendants, Bertha armed herself in a light suit of mail, and went forth with her esquires and adherents to oppose the robbers, who came like caitiffs to attack a female by night.
Advancing in front of her friends, the courageous lady addressed the leaders of the marauders, asking why thus they attacked her. An arrow, launched from an unseen bow, pierced her harness: this was the only reply. Bertha fell dying, and her soldiers rushed on and defeated the foe.
The Lady Bertha was laid in a grave near the castle, over which a weeping willow still points out the spot; and in the still, starlight nights, she and her lover, happy in death, sit hand-in-hand, contented and silent.
The castle of Elz was at length taken from its proper possessors by the Archbishop Baldwin of Trèves, who, although outwitted by Lauretta of Sponheim, seems generally to have worsted his enemies.
There had been a long feud between the knights and the Bishop, who at last vowed to reduce them to obedience. He accordingly besieged the castle in form, and, in order to cut off all supplies, caused a new castle to be erected on the rocks opposite (a fragment of it still exists). This new castle he filled with armed men, and at length the knights of Elz agreed to own the warlike Bishop for their liege lord, and henceforth they held the castle as vassals.
Elz.