Already long the castle has laid in ruins; but the knight rides ever, without rest, on a wild black steed from its lonely tower to the hermit's weeping-willow-shaded grave; and the enchantment can only be broken when the robber-knight, on his night ride, meets one more wicked than himself.
Legend of Silberhohl.
In the neighbourhood of Leesen lies a spot called Silberhohl. It is almost round, and several feet deeper than the ground around it, and quite overgrown with swamp-moss. People go by with a shudder, for there is something the matter with the place.
Centuries ago a stately castle stood on the spot, in which there was always much drinking, gambling and wild merriment.
The nobles of the castle acted as if they owned the whole world; and everything did belong to them that they could take by force, for they lived by robbing, and were guilty of much violence and cruelty.
One could say with truth, there was not a single good heart in the Burg except the young girl Jutta. Everybody loved her, and often, when the robbers had marched out to plunder, she would visit the poor and the sick, and even the robbed, giving them food and the money she had saved. The suffering and poor called her Saint Jutta.
Once the robbers had committed a monster crime. Covered with the blood of those they had robbed, they returned laden with booty to the castle.
Soon the goblets stood on the oaken tables, and the unholy, lawless revel began.
Suddenly the most terrible thunder rolled, a mighty flash of lightning swept the hall, the earth quaked and opened, the walls trembled, the tower shook and fell with an awful noise that was heard miles away. All sank in the gulf, which closed again, and nothing was left of the castle but a deep round spot where it had stood.