Hero Tales and Legends of the Rhine | Page 5

travelled in many lands, and now he told of his changing fortunes
in these far-off countries, always drawing a moral from his
adventures--that all things earthly were evanescent as the dews of
morning. The company listened attentively to the discourse of the sage;
all, that is, but their hostess, who was angry and disappointed that he
had said no word of the wealth and magnificence displayed in her
palace, the rich fare on her table, and all the signs of luxury with which
he was surrounded. At length she could conceal her chagrin no longer,
and asked the stranger directly whether he had ever seen such
splendour in his wanderings as that he now beheld.
“Tell me,” she said, “is there to be found in the courts of your Eastern
kings such rare treasures as these of mine?”
“Nay,” replied the sage, “they have no pearls and rich embroideries to
match thine. Nevertheless, there is one thing missing from your board,
and that the best and most valuable of all earthly gifts.”
In vain Richberta begged that he would tell her what that most precious
of treasures might be. He answered all her inquiries in an evasive
manner, and at last, when her question could no longer be evaded, he
rose abruptly and left the room. And, seek as she might, Richberta
could find no trace of her mysterious visitor.
Richberta strove to discover the meaning of the old man’s words. She

was rich--she possessed greater treasures than any in Stavoren, at a
time when that city was among the wealthiest in Europe--and yet she
lacked the most precious of earth’s treasures. The memory of the words
galled her pride and excited her curiosity to an extraordinary pitch. In
vain she asked the wise men of her time--the priests and
philosophers--to read her the riddle of the mysterious traveller. None
could name a treasure that was not already hers.
In her anxiety to obtain the precious thing, whatever it might be,
Richberta sent all her ships to sea, telling the captain of each not to
return until he had found some treasure that she did not already possess.
The vessels were victualled for seven years, so that the mariners might
have ample time in which to pursue their quest. So their commander
sent one division of the fleet to the east, another to the west, while he
left his own vessel to the hazard of the winds, letting it drift
wheresoever the fates decreed. His ship as well as the others was laden
heavily with provisions, and during the first storm they encountered it
was necessary to cast a considerable portion of the food overboard, so
that the ship might right itself. As it was, the remaining provisions were
so damaged by the sea-water that they rotted in a few days and became
unfit for food. A pestilence would surely follow the use of such
unwholesome stuff, and consequently the entire cargo of bread had to
be cast into the sea.
The commander saw his crew ravaged by the dreaded scurvy, suffering
from the lack of bread. Then only did he begin to perceive the real
meaning of the sage’s words. The most valuable of all earthly treasures
was not the pearls from the depths of the sea, gold or silver from the
heart of the mountains, nor the rich spices of the Indies. The most
common of all earth’s, products, that which was to be found in every
country, which flourished in every clime, on which the lives of millions
depended--this was the greatest treasure, and its name was--bread.
Having reached this conclusion, the commander of Richberta’s fleet set
sail for a Baltic port, where he took on board a cargo of corn, and
returned immediately to Stavoren.
Richberta was astonished and delighted to see that he had achieved his

purpose so soon, and bade him tell her of what the treasure consisted
which he had brought with him. The commander thereupon recounted
his adventures--the storm, the throwing overboard of their store of
bread, and the consequent sufferings of the crew--and told how he at
length discovered what was the greatest treasure on earth, the priceless
possession which the stranger had looked for in vain at her rich board.
It was bread, he said simply, and the cargo he had brought home was
corn.
Richberta was beside herself with passion. When she had recovered
herself sufficiently to speak she asked him:
“At which side of the ship did you take in the cargo?”
“At the right side,” he replied.
“Then,” she exclaimed angrily, “I order you to cast it into the sea from
the left side.”
It was a cruel decision. Stavoren, like every other city, had its quota of
poor families, and these were in much distress at the time,