Death and the Devil

Author’s Note

Conrad von Hochstaden died on 28 September 1261, without having pardoned the imprisoned patricians. All pleas were in vain. Whether there were further plans to assassinate him is not known. What is known is that he reestablished—for one last time—the power of the archbishops of Cologne. He was buried first of all in the old cathedral, then in the axial chapel of the new cathedral. Today his tomb is in the chapel of St. John, while the axial chapel is devoted to the memory of the Three Kings—and, in a way, to Gerhard, the cathedral’s first architect. If you look up along the arch to the point of the center window, you will see a carved head with long, curly hair and an open mouth, as if he were still calling out his instructions to the stonemasons. Whether it is the place where Gerhard fell to his death and whether it is actually a portrait of him has never been established for certain.

Conrad’s successor, Engelbert von Falkenburg, dashed the patricians’ hopes of release so that they took the matter into their own hands and escaped. Following some large-scale horse-trading, the patricians were supposed to be allowed to return, for which Engelbert was to receive 1,500 marks. At the same time the number of complaints of corruption and excess against the new council of magistrates increased. Engelbert, however, did not keep his promise to reinstate the patricians in the city administration; instead he ruled as a tyrant and had Bayen Tower and Kunibert Tower converted into real fortresses. As a consequence, the patricians, guilds, and citizens banded together again and war broke out. Engelbert besieged the city, but without success. The bishop of Liège and the count of Geldern came to resolve the conflict, at the end of which Engelbert was compelled to recognize, as had Conrad before him, the Great Adjudication of 1258, and the patricians and former magistrates finally returned.

Engelbert’s power had gone. He could not even stop himself from being imprisoned for twenty days by the citizens for supposedly hatching an armed plot against the patricians. The pope, Urban IV, more and more concerned by the city’s efforts to achieve independence, attempted to intervene several times, despite his low opinion of Engelbert. The latter tried everything, including stirring up the guilds, who were defeated by the patricians in a bloody conflict. At last the ensuing arbitration made the patricians go barefoot to beg the archbishop’s forgiveness once again. Under Conrad that had been the beginning of a nightmare for them; under Engelbert it led to farce. The archbishop again tried to subdue Cologne by force of arms and instigated an intrigue that was a complete failure, compelling him to flee to Bonn. There was the usual reconciliation, but while outwardly Engelbert was all sweetness and light, in secret he was stirring up the old antipathies between the noble families, inciting the Weises against the Overstolzes. At the last moment open conflict was avoided through the mediation of Count William of Jülich, the old enemy of Conrad and of the archbishops in general. Engelbert then took up arms against William, devastated his territory, and spent the next three and a half years imprisoned in Jülich.

In the meantime William’s efforts were proving vain—the Weises and the Overstolzes were at each other’s throats. Ludwig Weise, the burgomaster, and Matthias Overstolz came to blows. Weise was killed and the rest of the family sought asylum with the Church. Only the hasty arrival of William of Jülich stopped the Overstolzes from wiping out the Weises. The latter were expelled from the city and the Overstolzes took over.

Time for a new intrigue. Engelbert, lord of the city on paper alone, formed an alliance with the Weises and the tradesmen. Money was spent and a tunnel was dug under the city walls through which the Weises intended to return. This plan also came to naught. Although the Weises entered the town, they were driven out again in a bloody battle. Among the dead was Matthias Overstolz.

In 1271 Engelbert returned from imprisonment. A changed man, he made peace with the city. Three years later he died.

His successor, Siegfried von Westerburg, once more tried to reestablish the power Conrad had achieved. He saw himself as a warlord and remained on reasonably good terms with the citizens until they tired of financing his constant feuds. But Siegfried was cleverer than Engelbert. Having made himself the strongest force on the lower Rhine, he managed for a long time to walk the tightrope between tyranny and tolerance, until his plans came into terminal conflict with the city’s desire for independence. In the famous battle of Worringen he was defeated by the citizens and their allies. He made one more attempt to assert himself, which led to his conclusive defeat. Cologne became a free imperial city. The power of the archbishops was broken for good.

In another land another power came to an end. Castle Urquhart in Scotland was destroyed. The duke of Monadhliath did not return from the Crusades, and the land was leaderless.

The castle on the shores of Loch Ness remains for all to see—unlike the celebrated monster. A few years ago the Catholic Church sent an exorcist to deal with it. He sprinkled holy water on the waves and recited a large number of prayers. Effective ones, apparently. The monster has not been seen since.