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Sidonia The Sorceress V1

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The old nun still continued crying, would not her Grace send her a
priest? But her Grace refused; for in fact she was a stern
upholder of the pure doctrine. Anything else the old mother
demanded she might have, but with the abominations of Popery her
Grace would have nothing to do. Still the old nun prayed and
writhed at her feet, crying and groaning, "For the love of God, a
priest! for the love of God, a priest!" but her Grace drew herself
up stiff and stern, and let the old woman writhe there unheeded,
until at length she motioned to Clara to have her removed to the
courtyard, where the poor creature leaned up against the pump in
bitter agony, and drew forth a crucifix from her bosom, kissed it,
and looking up to heaven, cried, "Jesu! Jesu! art Thou come at
last?" and then dropped down dead upon the pavement, which the
crowd no sooner observed than they gathered round the corpse,
screaming out, "The devil has carried her off! See! the devil has
carried off the old Papist witch!" Hearing the uproar, her Grace
descended, as did also the young lord and Sidonia, who both
appeared as if they knew nothing at all about the old nun. And her
Grace commanded that the executioner should by no means drag away
the body, as the people demanded, who were now rushing to the spot
from all quarters of the town, but that it should be decently
lifted into the boat and conveyed back again to Crummyn, there to
be interred with the other members of the sisterhood at the
cloister.

No word did she speak, either to her undutiful son or to Sidonia,
about what she had heard; only when the latter asked her what the
nun came there for, she answered coldly, "For a Popish priest."
Hereupon the young Prince was filled with joy, concluding that
nothing had been betrayed as yet. And it was natural the old nun
should come with this request, seeing that she had made the same
to him. Her Grace also strictly charged Clara to observe a
profound silence upon all they had heard, until the old
chamberlain arrived, and this she promised.




CHAPTER XVII.

_Of Ulrich's counsels--Item, how Clara von Dewitz came upon the
track of the ghost._


At eleven o'clock that same night, the good and loyal Lord Ulrich
arrived at the castle with Appelmann, from Spantekow, and just
waited to change his travelling dress before he proceeded to the
apartment of her Grace. He found her seated with Clara and another
maiden, weeping bitterly. Dr. Gerschovius was also present. When
the old man entered, her Grace's lamentations became yet
louder--alas! how she was afflicted! Who could have believed that
all this had come upon her because the devil, out of malice, had
made Dr. Luther drop her wedding-ring at the bridal! And when the
knight asked in alarm what had happened, she replied that tears
prevented her speaking, but Dr. Gerschovius would tell him all.

So the doctor related the whole affair, from the declaration of
the old nun to the hypocritical conduct of Sidonia towards Clara
von Dewitz, upon which the old knight shook his head, and said,
"Did I not counsel your Grace to let the young lord die, in God's
name, for better is it to lose life than honour. Had he died then,
so would the Almighty have raised him pure and perfect at the last
day, but now he is growing daily in wickedness as a young wolf in
ferocity."

Then her Grace made answer, the past could not now be recalled;
and that she was ready to answer before God for what she had done
through motherly love and tenderness. They must now advise her how
to save her infatuated son from the snares of this wanton. Dr.
Gerschovius, thereupon, gave it as his opinion that they should
each be placed in strict confinement for the next fourteen days,
during which time he would visit and admonish them twice a day, by
which means he hoped soon to turn their hearts to God.

Here old Ulrich laughed outright, and asked the doctor, was he
still bent upon teaching Sidonia her catechism? As to the young
lord, no admonition would do him good now; he was thoroughly
bewitched by the girl, and though he made a hundred promises to
give her up, would never hold one of them. Alas! alas! that the
son of good Duke Philip should be so degenerate.

But her Grace wept bitterly, and said, that never was there a more
obedient, docile, and amiable child than her dear Ernest; skilled
in all the fine arts, and gifted by nature with all that could
ensure a mother's love. "But how does all this help him now?"
cried Ulrich. "It is with a good heart as with a good ship, unless
you guide it, it will run aground--stand by the helm, or the best
ship will be lost. What had the country to expect from a Prince
who would die, forsooth? unless his mistress sat by his bedside?
Ah! if he could only have followed the funeral of the young lord,
he would have given a hundred florins to the poor that very day!"

"It was not her son's fault--that base hypocrite had caused it all
by some hell magic."

_Ille_.--"That was quite impossible; however, he would
believe it to please her Grace."

"Then let him speak his opinion, if the counsel of Dr. Gerschovius
did not please him."

_Ille_.--"His advice, then, was to keep quiet until the third
night, then secretly place a guard round the castle and at the
wing, and when the bridal party met, take them out prisoners, send
my young lord to the tower, but disgrace Sidonia publicly, and
send her off where she pleased--to the fiend, if she liked."

"Then they would have the same old scene over again; her son would
fall sick, and Sidonia could not be brought back to cure him, if
once she had been publicly disgraced before all the people. So
matters would be worse than ever."

Hereupon old Ulrich fell into such a rage that he cursed and
swore, that her Grace treated him no better than a fool, to bring
him hither from Spantekow, and then refuse to take his advice. As
to Sidonia, her Grace had already brought disgrace upon her
princely house, by first turning her out, and then praying her to
come back before three days had elapsed. All Pomerania talked of
it, and old Otto Bork did not scruple to brag and boast
everywhere, that her Grace had no peace or rest from her
conscience until she had asked forgiveness from the Lady Sidonia
(as the vain old knave called her) and entreated her to return.
Now if she took the advice of Doctor Gerschovius, and first
imprisoned and then turned away Sidonia, no one would believe in
her story of the intended marriage, but look on her conduct as
only a confirmation of all the hard treatment which her Grace was
reported to have employed towards the girl; whereas if she only
waited till the whole bridal party were ready to start, and then
arrested Sidonia, her Grace was justified before the whole world,
for what greater fault could be committed than thus to entrap the
young Prince into a secret marriage, and run away with him by
night from the castle? Let her Grace then send for the
executioner, and let him give Sidonia a public whipping before all
the people. No one would think the punishment too hard, for
seducing a Prince of Pomerania into a marriage with her.

So the princely widow of Duke Philip will be justified before all
the world; and when the young lord sees his bride so disgraced, he
will assuredly be right willing to give her up; even if he fall
sick, it is impossible that he could send for a maiden to sit by
his bed who had been publicly whipped by the executioner. Those
were stern measures, perhaps, but a branch of the old Pomeranian
tree was decayed; it must be lopped, or the whole tree itself
would soon fall.

When the Grand Chamberlain ceased speaking, her Grace considered
the matter well, and finally pronounced that she would follow his
advice, whereupon, as the night waxed late, she dismissed the
party to their beds, retaining only Clara with her for a little
longer.

But a strange thing happened as she, too, finally quitted her
Grace, and proceeded along the corridor to her own little
apartment--and here let every one consider how the hand of God is
in everything, and what great events He can bring forth from the
slightest causes, as a great oak springs up from a little acorn.

For as the maiden walked along, her sandal became unfastened, and
tripped her, so that she nearly fell upon her face, whereupon she
paused, and placing her foot upon a beer-barrel that stood against
the wall not far from Sidonia's chamber, began to fasten it, but
lo! just at that moment the head of the ghost appeared rising
through the trap-door, and looked round, then, as if aware of her
presence, drew back, and she heard a noise as if it had jumped
down on the earth beneath. She was horribly frightened, and crept
trembling to her bed; but then on reflecting over this apparition
of the serpent knight, it came into her head that it could not be
a ghost, since it came down on the ground with such a heavy jump;
she prayed to God, therefore, to help her in discovering this
matter, and as she could not sleep, rose before the first glimmer
of daylight to examine this hole which lay so close to Sidonia's
chamber, and there truly she discovered the trap-door, and having
opened, found that it lay right over a large coach in the ducal
stables; thereupon she concluded that the ghost was no other than
the Prince himself who thus visited Sidonia.

Then she remembered that the ghost had been particularly active
while the young Prince lay sick on his bed watched by his mother;
so to make the matter clearer she went the next evening into the
stables, and observing the coach, which lay just beneath the hole,
sprinkled fine ash-dust all round it. Then returning to her room,
she waited until it grew quite dark, and as ten o'clock struck and
all the doors of the corridor leading to the women's apartments
were barred and bolted, she wrapped herself in a black mantle and
stole out with a palpitating heart into the gallery. Remembering
the large beer-barrel near Sidonia's room, she crouched down
behind it, and from thence had a distinct view of the trap-door,
and also of Sidonia's chamber. There she waited for about an hour,
when she perceived the young Prince coming, but not through the
trap-door. He knocked lightly at Sidonia's door, who opened it
instantly, and they held a long whispering conversation together.
He had brought her the page's dress, and there was nothing to be
feared now, for he had examined the trap and found they could
easily get out through it on the top of the coach, and from thence
into the stables. After that the way was clear. Surely some good
angel had put the idea into her head. Then he kissed her tenderly.

_Illa_.--"What did the old nun come for? Could she have
betrayed them?"

_Hic_.--"Impossible. She did not know a syllable of their
affairs, and had come to ask his lady mother to send her a Popish
priest, as she had asked himself." Then he kissed her again, but
she tore herself from his arms, threw the little bundle into the
room, and shut the door in his face. Whereupon the young Prince
went his way, sighing as if his heart would break.

Now Clara concluded, with reason, that the young lord was not the
ghost, inasmuch as he did not creep through the trap-door, nor did
he wear helmet or cuirass, or any sort of disguise. But when she
heard Sidonia talk with such knowledge of the trap-door, she
guessed there was some knavery in the matter, and though she sat
the night there she was determined to watch. And behold! at twelve
o'clock there was a great clattering heard below, and presently a
helmet appeared rising through the hole, and then the entire
figure of the ghost clambered up through it, and after cautiously
looking round it, approached Sidonia's door, and knocked lightly.
Immediately she opened it herself, admitted the ghost, and Clara
heard her drawing the bolts of the door within.

The pious and chaste maiden felt ready to faint with shame; for it
was now evident that Sidonia deceived the poor young Prince as
well as every one else, and that this ghost whom she admitted must
be a favoured lover. She resolved to watch until he came out. But
it was about the dawn of morning before he again appeared, and
took his hellish path down through the trap-door, in the same way
as he had risen. But to make all certain she took a brush, and
before it was quite day, descended to the stables, where, indeed,
she observed large, heavy footprints in the ashes all round the
coach, quite unlike those which the delicate little feet of his
Highness would have made. So she swept them all clean away to
avoid exciting any suspicion, and crept back noiselessly to her
little room. Then waiting till the morning was somewhat advanced,
she despatched her maid on some errand into the town, in order to
get rid of her, and then watched anxiously for her bridegroom,
Marcus Bork, who always passed her door going to his office; and
hearing his step, she opened her door softly, and drew him in.
Then she related fully all she had heard and seen on the past
night.

The upright and virtuous young man clasped his hands together in
horror and disgust, but could not resolve whether it were fitter
to declare the whole matter to her Highness instantly or not.
Clara, however, was of opinion that her Grace would derive great
comfort from the information, because when the Prince found how
Sidonia had betrayed him, he would give up the creature of his own
accord. To which Marcus answered, that probably the Prince would
not believe a word of the story, and then matters would be in a
worse way than ever.

_Illa_.--"Was he afraid to disgrace Sidonia because she was
his kinswoman? Was it the honour of his name he wished to shield
by sparing her from infamy?"

_Hic_.--"No; she wronged him. If she were his sister, he
would still do his duty towards her Grace. The honour of the whole
Pomeranian house was perilled here, and he would save it at any
cost. But did his darling bride know who the ghost was?"

_Illa_.--"No; she had been thinking the whole night about him
till her head ached, but in vain."

At this moment the Grand Chamberlain passed the room on his way to
the Duchess, and they both went to the door, and entreated him to
come in and give them his advice. How the old knight laughed for
joy when he heard all; it was almost as good news to him as the
death of the young lord would have been. But no; they must not
breathe a syllable of it to her Highness. Wait for this night, and
if the dear ghost appeared again, he would give him and his
paramour something to think of to the end of their lives. Then he
walked up and down Clara's little room, thinking over what should
be done; and finally resolved to open the matter to the young
Prince that night between ten and eleven o'clock, and show him
what a creature he was going to make Duchess of Pomerania. After
which they should all, Marcus included, go armed to the
stables--for the Prince, no doubt, would be slow of belief--and
there conceal themselves in the coach until the ghost arrived. If
he came, as was almost certain, they would follow him to Sidonia's
room, break it open, and discover them together. In order that
witnesses might not be wanting, he would desire all the pages and
household to be collected in his room at that hour; and the moment
they were certain of having trapped the ghost, Marcus should slip
out of the coach, and run to gather them all together in the grand
corridor. To ensure all this being done, he would take the keys
from the castellan himself that night, and keep them in his own
possession. But, above all things, they were to keep still and
quiet during the day; and now he would proceed to her Grace.

But Marcus Bork begged to ask him, if the ghost did not come that
night, what was to be done? For the next was to be that of the
marriage, and unless the Prince was convinced by his own eyes,
nothing would make him credit the wickedness of his intended
bride. Sidonia would swear by heaven and earth that the story was
a malicious invention, and a plot to effect her utter destruction.

This view of the case puzzled the old knight not a little, and he
rubbed his forehead and paced up and down the room, till suddenly
an idea struck him, and he exclaimed--"I have it, Marcus! You are
a brave youth, dear Marcus, and a loyal subject and servant to her
Grace. Your conduct will bring as much honour upon the noble name
of Bork as Sidonia's has brought disgrace. Therefore I will trust
you. Listen, Marcus. If the ghost does not appear to-night, then
you must ride the morrow morn to Crummyn. Bribe the priest with
gold. Tell him that he must write instantly to the young Prince,
saying, that the marriage must be delayed for eight days, for
there was no boat to be had safe enough to carry him and his bride
up the Haff, seeing that all the boats and their crews were
engaged at the fisheries, and would not be back to Crummyn until
the following Saturday. The young lord, therefore, must have
patience. Should the priest hesitate, then Marcus must threaten
him with the loss of his living, as the whole princely house
should be made acquainted with his villainy. He will then consent.
I know him well!

"If that is once arranged, then we shall seat ourselves every
night in the coach until the ghost comes; and, methinks, he will
not long delay, since hitherto he has managed his work with such
security and success."

The discreet and virtuous Marcus promised to obey Ulrich in all
things, and the Grand Chamberlain then went his way.




CHAPTER XVIII.

_How the horrible wickedness of Sidonia was made apparent; and
how in consequence thereof she was banished with ignominy from the
ducal court of Wolgast_.


The night came at last. And the Grand Chamberlain collected, as he
had said, all the officials and pages of the household together in
his office at the treasury, and bid them wait there until he
summoned them. No one was to leave the apartment under pain of his
severe displeasure. _Item_, he had prayed her Grace not to
retire to rest that night before twelve of the clock; and when she
asked wherefore, he replied that she would have to take leave of a
very remarkable visitor that night; upon which she desired to know
more, but he said that his word was passed not to reveal more. So
her Grace thought he meant himself, and promised to remain up.

As ten o'clock struck, the castellan locked, up, as was his wont,
all that portion of the castle leading to the women's apartments.
Whereupon Ulrich asked him for the keys, saying that he would keep
them in his own charge. Then he prayed his Serene Highness Prince
Ernest to accompany him to the lumber-room.

His Highness consented, and they both ascended in the dark. On
entering, Ulrich drew forth a dark lantern from beneath his cloak,
and made the light fall upon an old suit of armour. Then turning
to the Prince--"Do you know this armour?" he said.

"Ah, yes; it was the armour of his dearly beloved father, Duke
Philip."

_Ille_.--"Right. Did he then remember the admonitions which
the wearer of this armour had uttered, upon his deathbed, to him
and his brothers?"

"Oh yes, well he remembered them; but what did this long sermon
denote?"

_Ille_.--"This he would soon know. Had he not given his right
hand to the wearer of that armour, and pledged himself ever to set
a good example before the people committed to his rule?"

_Hic_.--"He did not know what all this meant. Had he even set
a bad example to his subjects?"

_Ille_.--"He was on the high-road to do it, when he had
resolved to wed himself secretly to a maiden beneath his rank.
(Here the young Prince became as pale as a corpse.) Let him deny,
if he could, that he had sworn by his father's corpse, with his
hand upon the coffin, to abandon Sidonia. He would not upbraid him
with his broken promises to him, but would he bring his loving
mother to her grave through shame and a broken heart? Would he
make himself on a level with the lowest of the people, by wedding
Sidonia the next night in the church at Crummyn?"

_Hic_.--"Had that accursed Catholic nun then betrayed him?
Ah, he was surrounded by spies and traitors; but if he could not
obtain Sidonia now, he would wed her the moment he was of age and
succeeded to the government. If he could in no way have Sidonia,
then he would never wed another woman, but remain single and a
dead branch for his whole life long. Her blood was as noble as his
own, and no devil should dare to part them."

_Ille.--"But if he could prove, this very night, to the young
lord, that Sidonia was not an honourable maiden, but a dishonoured
creature----" Here the young Prince drew his dagger and rushed
upon the old man, with lips foaming with rage; but Ulrich sprang
behind the armour of Duke Philip, and said calmly, "Ernest, if
thou wouldst murder me who have been so leal and faithful a
servant to thee and thine, then strike me dead here through the
links of thy father's cuirass."

And as the young man drew back with a deep groan, he
continued--"Hear me, before thou dost a deed which eternity will
not be long enough to repent. I cannot be angry with thee, for I
have been young myself, and would have stricken any one to the
earth who had called my own noble bride dishonoured. Listen to me,
then, and strike me afterwards, if thou wilt." Hereupon the old
knight stepped out from behind the armour, which was fixed upon a
wooden frame in the middle of the apartment, with the helmet
surmounting it, and leaning against the shoulder-piece, he
proceeded to relate all that Clara had seen and heard.

The young Prince turned first as red as scarlet, then pale as a
corpse, and sunk down upon a pile of old armour, unable to utter
anything but sighs and groans.

Ulrich then asked if he remembered the silly youth who had been
drowned lately in consequence of Sidonia's folly; for it was his
apparition in the armour he then wore which it was reported
haunted the castle. And did he remember also how that armour (in
which the poor young man's father also had been killed fighting
against the Bohemians) had been taken off the corpse and hung up
again in that lumber-room?

_Hic_.--"Of course he remembered all that; it had happened
too lately for him to forget the circumstance."

_Ille_.--"Well, then, let him take the lantern himself, and
see if the armour hung still upon the wall." So the young lord
took the lantern with trembling hands, and advanced to the place;
but no--there was no armour there now. Then he looked all round
the room, but the armour with the serpent crest was nowhere to be
seen. He dropped the lantern with a bitter execration. Hereupon
the old knight continued--"You see, my gracious Prince, that the
ghost must have flesh and blood, like you or me. The castellan
tells me that when the ghost first began his pranks, the helmet
and cuirass were still found every morning in their usual place
here. But for eight days they have not been forthcoming; for the
ghost, you see, is growing hardy and forgetting his usual
precautions. However, the castellan had determined to watch him,
and seize hold of him, for, as he rightly conjectured, a spirit
could not carry away a heavy iron suit of armour on him; but his
wife had dissuaded him from those measures up to the present time.
Come now to the stables with me," continued Ulrich, "and let us
conceal ourselves in the coach which I mentioned to you; Marcus
Bork shall accompany us, and let us wait there until the ghost
appears, and creeps through the trapdoor. After some time we shall
follow him; and then this wicked cheat will be detected. But
before we move, swear to me that you will await the issue
peaceably and calmly in the coach; you must neither sigh nor
groan, nor scarcely breathe. No matter what you hear or see, if
you cannot control your fierce, jealous rage, all will be lost."

Then the young Prince gave him his hand, and promised to keep
silence, though it should cost him his life, for no one could be
more anxious to discover the truth or falsehood of this matter
than he himself. So they both descended now to the courtyard,
Ulrich concealing the lantern under his mantle; and they crouched
along by the wall till they reached the horse-pond, where Marcus
Bork stood awaiting them; then they glided on, one by one, into
the stables, and concealed themselves within the coach.

It was well they did so without longer delay, for scarcely had
they been seated when the ghost appeared. No doubt he had heard of
the intended marriage, and wished to take advantage of his last
opportunity. As the sound of his feet became audible approaching
the coach, the Prince almost groaned audibly; but the stout old
knight threw one arm powerfully round his body, and placed the
hand of the other firmly over his mouth. The ghost now began to
ascend the coach, and they heard him clambering up the hind wheel;
he slipped down, however (a bad omen), and muttered a half-curse;
then, to help himself up better, he seized hold of the sash of the
window, and with it took a grip of Ulrich's beard, as he was
leaning close to the side of the coach to watch his proceedings.
Not a stir did the brave old knight make, but sat as still as
marble, and even held his breath, lest the ghost might feel it
warm upon his hand, and so discover their ambuscade.

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