Ditching the Mosel River Valley Tour

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

They had originally intended to backpack through Germany like many college kids did as they were in their last years of schooling—before heavy employment and life (which was ahead of them) would soon be on top of them to weight them down to reality. And they were still single men, so they had to take their chance while they still had it. It was the thing to do.

But because Jordan Hague and his two buddies had also dragged Howard Richard Deacon III onto their summer trip—due to the crucial fact that the heir to Deacon enterprises had a private jet and funds to take them there—‘Rick’ insisted they rent a car halfway along their journey rather than go the entire length and breadth of Germany on foot. They had complained mostly for the show of it, but to be honest, after trudging up hills and paths to the thousandth castle, they were footsore and glad Rick wanted to drive on their Mosel River Valley tour instead of hoofing it. Besides, Rick told them, he had business in a town along the river, and he had to ditch them for a few days to represent his dad for work. He needed the car.

 “Seriously though?” Jordan asked Rick from the passenger side of the vehicle, smirking at how much of a workaholic his friend could be. “Can’t you tour Cochem with us? Even for a little bit?”

Rick chuckled, keeping his gray eyes on the bends of the road as he steered the vehicle through the lush and warm territory rather than looking at his long time college roomie. “Maybe after I’m done with business. You’ll have three days in Cochem without me anyway, and you might be bored of it by then.”

Their friends, Emory Lindberg and Rhett Williams, stared at Rick from the back seat, speechless that he would even imagine they could get bored on this trip. Germany was fantastic. And Cochem had lots to see.

Rick liked them a lot. It was one of the reasons he agreed to go on the trip rather than heading to one of his family’s wildlife reserves for camping that year. Emory was this brilliant mathematician entering into fields of economics, of all things. But the guy also had this wild sense of adventure and he had been begging for them to go on this trip since forever. Rick generally avoided Germany for personal family reasons, but since Emory and Jordan were graduating, this would be the last year they could do this.

Besides, Emory looked German. He had brown hair and blue eyes, and he had the last name, which came from his thin German ancestry—as he was mostly of Anglo-Saxon stock. The locals gazed at him first, with respect, expecting him to be a local showing these weird Americans around. But Emory didn’t speak a lick of the language. That was their friend Rhett. He was their operating ‘translator’.

Rhett had no German in him whatsoever, as he was mixed race ‘mulatto’ with creamy skin and tight black curls which he liked to wear in faint Rasta style. But he was a German language minor who had gone on foreign exchange in Hamburg years ago when he was in high school. Emory’s second language had been Spanish. Rhett’s interest in German and Germany was more due to his fascination with German cars and history of aviation. Rick and his friends got to know him during one of their business law classes, though Rhett had started out as a history major. He later had shifted into Business Law after he got to know Rick. Of course, Rhett was much like his father who was a prominent lawyer whose own mother had emigrated from Nigeria during the seventies to also study law. Law was in Rhett’s blood. In spite of all this, Rhett had never abandoned his love for Germany or history, and he was the one who had been nagging Emory to nag Jordan into nagging Rick to arrange this trip.

Rhett had explained it to them this way: Rick had the means. He also had the experience with world traveling. They needed him.

Back then, Jordan had argued back that they didn’t want to use Rick or his fortune, as he desired to keep Rick as a friend long after they had graduated.

To which Emory argued that Rick loved a good hike. He would enjoy it. And if they all went backpacking, the expense would be minimal. Therefore, they should not feel guilty ‘using’ Rick that one time.

And though Rick was the one who eventually insisted on the car, Emory was right: Rick enjoyed a good hike. In fact, he had had more energy on the trip than the other three. He was the least footsore out of all of them as if the rich boy was used to scrambling about mountains with very little food and water on a regular basis. So in way, the rent-a-car situation was kind of weird, and clearly had to be about business as Rick had said.

“How long will this business take?” Jordan asked finally.

Rick shrugged, his eyes on the oncoming traffic. “Three days. I need to leave tonight to be fresh for it in the morning. I’ll be spending three nights over there and then I will get back as soon as I can—sometime in the afternoon.”

Emory groaned. “You won’t even go with us to see Reichsburg Castle?”

Chuckling, Rick steered the car along another bend, coming closer toward the town. He could see the castle on the hill in the not-too-far distance. “I think I’ve seen enough castles.”

“You won’t even put it off for one night? It’s going to be a full moon. Perfect for night hiking,” Emory insisted, thinking he could tempt Rick.

But Rick laughed this time, shaking his head. “No.”

Rhett snorted. “Come on! You are going to miss the best stuff.”

“Seriously,” Jordan cut in with a weird look. “You always have some excuse this time of the month. Your dad isn’t in Germany. You aren’t meeting him for dinner or anything, are you?”

“This time of the month?” Emory laughed. He looked to Rick. “You make it sound like he’s PMS’ing.”

“You aren’t actually a girl, are you?” Rhett called up, snickering.

“Funny,” Rick said. He shook his head. “Look, I’ve got business.”

“On the full moon,” Jordan said dryly, still smirking at him. It was well known among his friends that Rick and his father often went to eat together on the full moon, sort of like a family ritual, though they said it was because it was easy to set a regular date to catch up that way, but without it being exactly the same day on a calendar.

“Maybe that is where the rumor comes from,” Rhett remarked to his buddies.

And here it comes. Rick had been waiting for it. Rick Deacon could not explain his real reasons for taking up a car when all their hiking had been complete fun. He loved hiking. They knew it. And they knew he knew they knew it. But eventually, one day, they would figure out the timing of when he had decided to rent the car was not as arbitrary as he made out. The full moon was actually three days long, and Rick did not want to be anywhere in the vicinity of his friends when the moon rose. They would not understand.

“What?” Emory snorted as if following Rick’s thoughts, though he was just answering Rhett. “The rumor that the Deacons are werewolves?”

Rick merely smirked back at them, now pulling off the main highway into Cochem. He had to find their reserved lodging, the Altes Zollhaus, and get them settled in before taking off to his true destination. He didn’t want to linger in Cochem at all, actually—but Emory insisted on visiting it. There were so many interesting places to visit there, Emory had said. But the shorter time in Cochem, the better, Rick felt. At least, for him.

As he finally found the soft yellow wash building with rust colored timbers and slate roof top, Rick pulled into the closest open parking spot. “Here it is.” He double-checked the address on his GPS to make sure.

All four of them peered out the windows at the building. It was a quaint little hotel, a bit more like a bed and breakfast to Rick’s standards. It had these dormer windows looking out over them, giving them the feel of being back in time. It was not far from the river, which meant it was not far from the road. They eyed Rick, knowing he had booked the place far in advance and he was incredibly selective.

“Why do you always choose places so close to a highway?” Jordan asked, undoing his seatbelt.

Shrugging, Rick pulled off his seat belt. “In case I need a quick getaway.”

They laughed, getting out after him. That was another thing about Rick. He had a paranoid streak—like he was always looking out for assassins. Only Jordan took his paranoia seriously, as Rick was always looking out for assassins. Jordan knew there were people who would like to see his roommate dead. But he knew it was best to keep the tone of the conversation light.

The air was rich with smells. Odors of cooking sausage, mustard, and bread filled their noses along with the scent of human life, water from the river, and traffic. There were other odors which none of them could identify, though after Rick sneezed once, he knew there was at least garlic.

“Ok, we’ll go check you guys in, and I’ll be on my way,” Rick said as he stepped from the car.

They all turned to look at him, stunned.

“You’re not even going to stay for lunch?” Jordan asked, exasperated as he followed his roommate toward the building.

Rick shook his head with a shrug. “Nope. I really need to get going. I’ll come back in three days, and then we’ll get on to our next stop.”

All three of them cast Rick a wan look. He was being no fun again. They had warned Rick not to get like this, as Rick frequently was the sober one. He had to always act responsibly, in most situations—the burden he carried for being the future CEO of Deacon Enterprises, Rick had explained constantly. He had grown up too fast, Emory said.

“Dude, just because your best friend recently got married doesn’t mean you have to act like an old married man too,” Rhett complained.

Emory smothered another snort, nodding as Rick turned and shot him a terse look.

Jordan frowned, also thinking about Rick’s best friend—Andrew Cartwright who was the newlywed. Jordan had met him a couple of times, and honestly he was jealous of how in synch Rick was with the guy. The tall red haired and freckled medical student was equal parts quirky and serious, much like Rick. The man exuded heroism like an old Arthurian knight. He had the shoulders for it, and the confident gait—like an angel warrior on duty. And the next second he was just this dude who played wicked basketball with his buddy Rick, the kind of guy who as a kid used to pull pranks on the stuffed shirts of their Ladies Aide Society while upsetting his preacher grandfather. Rick easily loosened up with Andrew, casting off all his heavy CEO-in-training manner for the wicked tease he was deep down. With the addition of Andrew’s newly-wed wife, who was also a good friend of Rick’s from Massachusetts, Rick was downright a big loping golden retriever. Except… well, after the wedding Rick seemed a little lost, like he felt he had been left behind. This was the main reason Jordan agreed to drag Rick on the trip. Rick needed to get his mojo back.

Closing his eyes, sighing, Rick shook his head. “Look. I’m sorry. I can’t party right now. I really have to go. This really is important.”

He then went to the back of the car and opened the trunk. The guy was back to business.

Resigned to losing him, they all heaved out their backpacks—all except Rick’s, of course. He briskly shut the trunk once they had all their things, and he led the way to the hotel as if he were going to check them in to make sure they did not follow him on to his next stop. Jordan noticed Rick did things like that on occasion—set things up so they could not follow him somewhere. It was like on their big ski trip three years ago at the Deacon family’s ski resort. Rick had come early without telling them, and he had avoided them when they had come early to surprise him. They had planned to drag him out for night skiing. It had been a full moon then too, perfect for night skiing. But he avoided them, claiming he had studying to do and ‘could not play’. And to top it off, the very morning his other friends from his old private school were going to arrive, he had twisted his ankle while slipping on ice—and he ended up not going skiing with them at all.

Once they found the hotel check in, Rick nudged Rhett forward to do all the talking. Rick barely knew two words in German. His second language was a pathetic level of high school French and his third was decent college Mandarin—neither useful here. As Rhett spoke with the attendants to confirm their reservations, the other three looked around the dining room where several patrons were enjoying lunch.

 Rick said to Jordan and Emory in a lower voice, “I know you guys want to get in some night hiking, but I don’t think this is the place to do it. We can do night hiking down in Senheim or near it after I get back.”

“It won’t be the full moon then though,” Jordan said, annoyed that Rick was still being this way.

“It will be a waning gibbous, which is good enough,” Rick explained.

Jordan always found weird how familiar Rick was with astronomy terms. He knew stuff like that.

Rick then glanced around the dining hall, stifling a sneeze. “Besides, I don’t think it is a good idea if I linger here in Cochem anyway. I never told you this, but my grandfather sort of traveled this way once, and he kind of offended somebody.”

Both Jordan and Emory stared. “What?”

This was news. The Deacons were careful about not offending people. They were exceptionally good at foreign relations in business. They had important connections around the globe.

“In fact, if I were you,” Rick whispered to them, “I would not mention my name here at all. None of it—for your own safety.”

“Why?” Rhett asked, looking back to Rick.

Coloring a little to the point that his face nearly matched his rust colored hair, Rick said, “It is a really long story, but the short of it is that there is one local family my family avoids. Bad blood. Grandpa didn’t think they were very scrupulous. And, to be honest, Dad has avoided them. And he has warned me to stay away from here.”

“Is that why you are leaving?” Jordan asked, mouth opening with astonishment. This felt real. It was more like Rick.

Shrugging, Rick nodded. “I don’t want to bring trouble on you guys.”

“Ok,” Emory murmured. “No mention the D—”

Rick slapped a hand over his mouth. “Don’t even say the name.”

Emory nodded, realizing Rick truly meant it.

“Ok,” Rhett said, watching.

Rick then turned to go. He waved. “See you in three days.”

Jordan and the others waved back in a slight daze, watching him with subdued amazement.

“So… his grandfather had offended some German dude, and that’s why Rick rented the car and dropped us off rather than having us all hike in,” Rhett murmured. “I’m glad he fessed up.”

Jordan’s eyes followed the rent-a-car as Rick pulled out and headed back to the highway along the river. “Funny thing, though,” he said in a low voice. “The only people I know the D—”

Emory shot him a sharp look.

“—they have ever offended are like the mafia, who for some reason can’t quite get to him.”

“The mafia?” Rhett stared. He had heard stories, but he had not quite believed them. Even now he thought it was crazy. The mafia always seemed like a cartoon super villain team rather than real.

“Crime families,” Emory interjected. “Maybe not mafia with a capital M, but certainly groups like them.”

Jordan shrugged. “Though there are those nuts who think the D—”

“Hey!” Emory laughed at him, as Jordan kept letting the name slip despite Rick’s warning.

“—his father and him are werewolves,” Jordan amended with a not- caring snort.

Some of the locals glanced over, comprehending a little of their conversation. A tourist peered over also. Seeing the eyes, they heaved their backpacks up the stairs toward their room, still talking.

“Yeah, but those crazy folk don’t count,” Rhett said in a lower voice.

“Somebody counts them.”

Led to their sleeping arrangements, each was shown to a room with soft comfortable-looking beds. And upon seeing them, each guy silently thanked Rick for his foresight. Though they did not mind the youth hostels and small camping sites they had been using, secretly every one of them was dying for a night of complete rest in total comfort.

*

Rick felt comfortable leaving his friends in Cochem, especially in leaving them quickly. He had kept it on the down low among most of his associates that he was in Germany for the summer so no rumor could spread. No one in the public gossip news knew about it at least. Only his good friends in the Holy Seven and Tom Brown knew he had gone on this summer backpacking trip, besides his father of course. He told the Seven as a form of insurance, just in case things. And he told Tom because Tom would have found out sooner or later, and Tom would have sought some reason to crash the trip just to bug him if he felt he was being purposely left out.

Thing was, what Rhett said about Rick acting like an old married man because his best friend had just gotten hitched wasn’t too far off. Rick was feeling his carefree childhood slip away as adult things were now taking over everything—starting with the first of his friends getting married. Though none of his other friends were engaged yet, they were sure to follow… Eve McAllister most likely being next with her steady boyfriend Hanz. And he was jealous.

But Rick was honestly happy for Andrew. And relieved. Andrew had finally married his high school sweetheart—and Jessica (his sweet, amazing wife whom Rick would have wanted as a girlfriend had is best friend blown it) had moved from New York City to live with Andrew, taking up a special detective position in the town’s police department. She had been an NYPD cop before.

The wedding had also been beautiful—though out-of-the-world weird in comparison to what most other people would have. Everyone they had cared about had come to the small wedding in Middleton Village, from Matthew Calamori and Joshua Johnson to Tom Brown and Randon Spade. But that wasn’t the weird part. Jessica’s dad, ‘The Marvelous Mason’, had gotten a furlough from prison for the day. And it was mind-bendingly funny seeing armed guards stand with the former magician and con man as he gave his daughter away to the pastor’s grandson—with prison-cuffs on his ankles to keep him from running as he was a sleight-of-hand artist skilled at evading the law and picking locks. Rick’s dad had arranged it as a wedding present to Jessica. With that image opposite the upright Cartwright family, it had painted such a weird picture in Rick’s head.

Then of course was the rest of wedding party. Rick stood as Andrew’s best man, of course. And next to them were the others of the Holy Seven, Daniel Smith, James Peterson, Edward White, Peter McCabe, Semour Dawson, and Michael Toms. All of them together after such a long time, standing like noble knights—including Peter who marched to a different everything. And the bridesmaids. They were a sight to behold. Eve McAllister stood alongside Selena Davenport and Silvia Lewis—each extraordinary women who to the naked, untrained eye, looked like a Snow-White-complected surfer chick, a Mediterranean debutante, and a quirky New York hairstylist. The only one of Jessica’s friends who was missing was Audry Bruchenhaus—Jessica’s vegan friend and animal rights activist who was also an acquaintance of Rick’s. Rick was honestly disappointed that she couldn’t come. Audry was currently on her long-scheduled Africa trip, probably rescuing endangered rhinos or taming cheetahs. She did send a soymilk maker as a wedding gift, though.

During the ceremony and the exchanging of the vows, Rick’s mind had wandered… admittedly to Audry. He had imagined the normal, sane, entirely vegan Audry standing alongside the other gals and looking across at the knights of the Holy Seven, and had nearly laughed out loud. His friends shot him a look while the pastor was orating about the importance of treating marriage not as a social construct, but as a sacred union, wondering what he thought was so funny. But as things continued on, Rick thought that perhaps it was good that Audry didn’t come. She would have been the only one in the wedding party who was entirely unaware that supernatural beings existed in the world. And to be honest, Rick didn’t want her to step into that nasty, dangerous universe. Let her deal with just animals with fangs and horns. She could handle those. Besides, the woman was naturally intuitive. And while being among so many of his friends, she would have eventually picked up that something wasn’t quite normal about any of them. Especially himself.

It would have remained a passing thought, if Silvia (who was also Audry’s friend, long story) had not sauntered up to him and said, “You know, if you miss her that badly, why don’t you hop on a plane and go to Africa to get her.”

It had left him speechless for a full minute. And Silvia cackled at his expense, sauntering away almost, but lingering to see what affect it had on him. She thought she was being funny. He wondered if she knew how much that really hurt. First, because he had no idea he was that transparent. He hadn’t said a word about Audry the entire time. And secondly, it hurt because Audry was, for the most part, exactly what he was looking for a in a woman—minus her fanatic veganism—and he knew he couldn’t have her. He had finally managed to say, however, “I don’t want to cause Audry trouble. We need to leave her alone.”

Which was what he was doing for his friends now. Sometimes people simply needed to be left alone—left out of the supernatural craziness that was his life. Unfortunately back then at the wedding, Silvia merely rolled her eyes at him as if to say it was too late for Audry. She was already entangled with Silvia’s family problems and had been helping her leave her witch coven, and of course Audry was a good friend to Jessica who was a lead member of the Holy Seven.

But he refused to believe it was too late for Audry. Because once the supernatural realm got a hold of you, it never left you alone.

Rick Deacon drove and drove along the river until he was sure he had put fair amount of distance between him and Cochem—the further the better. When the sun was getting low enough in the sky, Rick found a small village where he could park the car—somewhere inconspicuous, somewhere where people would leave it and him alone.

After setting the emergency brake, Rick got out, locked all the doors and headed straight into the woods, hiking into the darkest part.

He sniffed the air.

Odors of the near town were faint. He mostly smelled tree bark, decomposing leaves, soil, and… badgers. Rick wasn’t too fond of going after badgers. He sniffed for more life as he continued to ascend into the wood. When he was far enough from the road, he kicked off his shoes and took off his socks, hanging both on a nearby tree branch. He could smell a fox. A hedgehog. And then… a hare. This was good. He sniffed for more, his nose itching to take shape.

Loosening his pants, pulling off his shirt, Rick hung both on the same branch as his shoes and tucked in his cell phone and wallet, hoping no idiot hiker found them before he had to claim them again. His car keys jingled in the pocket. Taking off the rest, his body rippled with reddish fur, his tail sprouting as his snout elongated with full teeth and his ears moved back and up on his head. Then, getting a whiff of rabbit, Rick-the-wolf darted onto its trail for dinner.

Three Buddies at Cochem

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

 

Jordan, Emory, and Rhett got up early after spending a fun evening at a local pub just to enjoy the local flavor. They had a hearty meal and an excellent night sleep in beds. Though they had missed Rick and his mildly distorted sense of humor, they also knew that he probably would not have been in the mood for mischief when he had business on the brain. He was like that.

The morning was bright and sunny. Hardly any clouds were in the deep blue sky, a perfect day for exploring the vineyard town. They pulled out their map and selected places to go.

“Ok, first there’s this cable car we can take to the Pinnerkreuz lookout point. We can hike down from there. I hear there is a café at the upper station,” Emory said. 

Both of them agreed it was a good place to start. It was open at ten at the latest, possible nine-thirty a.m..

They walked to the Sesselbahn in the Endert Valley, which was the chair lift taking them straight up over the mountainside. Only two people were allowed per chair lift, so Jordan opted to ride up with this cute girl from London who was touring the Mosel River Valley with her friends who also happened to be split off from a threesome.

The day was off to a good start. The single trip cost a little less than five euros each.

The view as they rose up the steep mountainside was spectacular. The green below and the strip of houses in the valley town was nothing like from home. A bit of a fairy tale really. It made a person question the concept of overpopulation, as there was so much space with things growing in it, and people were just specks on the distant ground. They could see people hiking up and down the paths underneath their feet as they rose higher. The couples they passed going down the mountain on the gondola seemed oblivious to watchers as they kissed and laughed. Jordan’s seating companion blushed, but also scooted away to make clear she was not that fast a mover, though not averse to the possibility in the future.

Assistants at the top helped them safely get off the chair lift and step out of the way while the mechanism safely moved on. And Jordan’s seatmate lingered with him as they all waited for their friends to get off. They walked together to the turnstile gate, threesome and threesome, where they walked out to look at the view. Arrow signs pointed to hiking paths they could take, all written in pure German. Rhett had to translate. Then they went to the lookout point.

The hiking trails were rough, unpaved walk spaces at the start. But then there were railed switchbacks with stone steps. The craggy, slate-like rock face was not quite what they had expected to see up top, giving it a shockingly barren feel for a place they had assumed was a rich soft area. Rough scrub surrounded them as they trekked on to where they could get a clear view of the Mosel River Valley. The unmistakably large cross there on the peak was hard to miss.

Down below, little gray-topped white buildings sat in rows among trees along the river bank. Leaning on the railing, they could see the trains move along the shoreline and the town, paralleling the river. Boats trekked down the water. And there were a few cars on the highway. Not a lot of traffic, but lazy like. They could see the castle, vineyards, the steeple of a church, and many other quaint European buildings. But after a short look, several photographs, and lots of goofing, Emory insisted they join ‘the ladies’ at the terrace café where they could have ice cream and get to know the girls better.

“So… are you backpacking through Europe also?” Rhett asked, flashing his brilliant white teeth at them as they sat down at their tables.

The British ladies giggled, shaking their heads. They were such a cute row of college gals, flirty and tempting.

“Not quite,” the pretty redhead with fluffy hair said, the one who had gone up with Jordan. “We’re taking trains.”

“Public transportation,” the blonde chimed in.

Their quieter brunette friend, who had blue stripes in her hair and was wearing a Green Day tee shirt merely, smiled.

“We’re seeing a bit here and there,” the redhead explained. “But this is really a brief stop on the way to Cologne.”

The guys shared looks. They were going south, not north. They had already seen Cologne with Rick. That meant it was unlikely they would be able to strike up a long relationship with these ladies as Rick would want to continue going south. But a day with them would not be bad. It would be fun.

“Are you planning on hiking down?” Emory asked, gesturing to the long way, though Rhett pointed to the short way as the gals did not look like they were wearing hiking ware.

“With you?” the brunette asked, smirking.

Rhett, Jordan and Emory had originally intended to hike the long way back to Cochem all the way through the Endert Valley. It was to be their main hike and then they intended to take it easier the other days. But the short switchbacks down was looking more interesting now as these gals were there. They could always do the long hike the tomorrow, they figured.

“Sure,” Jordan said, smiling.

And the British ladies grinned back at him, agreeing that it was a good way to spend a day.

They learned the British gals’ names: Emilee, Helena, and Tracy. Tracy was the sassy brunette. Helena was the blonde. And Emilee, who was much more giggly than the other two, was the redhead. And the redhead liked to talk. As the one who had ridden up with Jordan, she walked down with him, chatting up a storm. The other two were much less talkative, and by the end of the hike the boys learned that Helena and Tracy were actually a couple. It was why Tracy had laughed at them. They still hung out, though. And though Emory and Rhett were disappointed in their romantic expectations, the ladies were still good company.

It was well into the afternoon when they reached Cochem and decided to move on to Reichsburg Castle. The gals were up for it, and they figured they might as well enjoy the tour.

Reichsburg stood on the top of a hill hedged with trees and vineyards. It was a steep walk to get to the castle. And when they paid six euros and got in, they joined a tour of about fifteen people. There were people from all over the world on the tour—France, Spain, a few hijab wearing ladies, and a couple of Asians who were either Korean or Chinese. Rick wasn’t there to tell them which language they were speaking. They grabbed a few brochures with facts about Reichsburg castle on it and pored over the information while Rhett translated to them in English.

The tour lasted about forty-five minutes. Unfortunately, they weren’t allowed to wander about the place on their own—which was a downer. The tour guide gave a lot of fun facts, and shared many stories about the castle. The one thing they noticed was that the castle had been reconstructed. It wasn’t the original castle.

Their tour guide said, and Rhett translated, “After the castle was destroyed by King Louis XIV of France’s troops in sixteen-eighty-nine during the Nine Years War, it remained unoccupied until eighteen-sixty-eight when Berlin business man, Louis Fréderic Jacque Ravené, purchased it and reconstructed it on the remaining parts of the castle. If you look at the castle walls you can see the difference in texture and color of the stone. Those parts below are what was left from the original castle. It was reconstructed in a Neo-Gothic architectural style. He had used it as his summer home. ”

They looked about at the Renaissance and Baroque furniture which the tour guide said had been carefully collected by the Ravené family. He then began to explain that the castle was later taken over during the Nazi occupation, but since 1978 the castle has been owned by the town of Cochem and was run by ‘Reichsburg Cochem Ltd.’

They were allowed to tour only seven of the fifty rooms of the castle, though, and when it was over, Emory struggled to hide that he thought he had seen enough castles for one day. Rhett and he exchanged a look. They were hungry, jealous of Jordan, and tired.

They took a walk down into the valley again to a place where they could get a decent late lunch.

After, Helena and Tracy went off on their own.

And Jordan took a walk with Emilee.

With another look between them, Emory and Rhett went back to the hotel to get in a nap—but ended up playing video games on their phones until Jordan returned near dinner time. Jordan’s face was drawn down with disappointment when he stepped into Emory’s room.

“So?” They looked up expectantly, wondering how far their friend got with the girl.

Sighing once more, Jordan said, “She has a boyfriend.”

“Ah, man!” Rhett threw up his hands.

“Dude, we all got played,” Emory said, cackling. They had paid for the gals’ food after all.

They spent the evening on the Moselpromenade which was next to the upper part of the old town along the riverside. Mostly they watched the boats, flirted with the other tourist ladies and plotted their second day with more determination. They were going to hike to Burgruine Winneburg in the Endert valley, no distractions this time.

After they checked out Martinstor—the old medieval gate of the city, which had battlements on two levels—they headed off to a late dinner then crashed into their beds for a deeply needed night sleep.

 

The second morning, they hiked back to the Sesselbahn, rode up, then hiked the long way into the Endert Valley. It was their intention to stop by the Burgruine Winneburg along the way, which were ruins of a castle that

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 20.08.2018
ISBN: 978-3-7554-7904-8

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