They
are surely father and son, a maiden knight and tried warrior who fell
together?
"No," the guide shakes his head; "they are twin brothers, the good
Barons Ebbo and Friedel, who were born when their father had been
taken captive by the Saracens while on a crusade. Baron Friedel was
slain by the Turks at the bridge foot, and his brother built the
church in his memory. He first planted vines upon the mountains, and
freed the peasants from the lord's dues on their flax. And it is
true that the two brothers may still be seen hovering on the
mountain-side in the mist at sunset, sometimes one, sometimes both."
You turn with a smile to the inscription, sure that those windows,
those porches, that armour, never were of crusading date, and ready
to refute the old peasant. You spell out the upright Gothic letters
around the cornice of the tomb, and you read, in mediaeval Latin,
"Orate pro Anima Friedmundis Equitis Baronis Adlersteini. A. D.
mccccxciii"
Then turn to the other side and read -
"Hic jacet Eberardus Eques Baro Adlersteini.
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