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Sidonia The Sorceress V1

W >> William Mienhold >> Sidonia The Sorceress V1




Then all the fellows jumped up from their wine-cask, and screamed
as if the last day had come, and Otto let the stone fall from his
hand with horror; but still called out boldly to his men to know
what had happened. "Was the devil himself among them that accursed
evening?"

Then they shouted in return, that he must hasten to land, for the
Stargardians were upon them, and had killed all their horses.

"Strike them dead, then; kill all, and himself the last, but he
would go over and help them."

So he jumped into the boat with his companions, but had not time
to set foot on shore, when the Stargardians, horse and foot, with
the burgomaster at their head, dashed forth from the wood,
shouting, "So fall the Stargardians upon Stramehl!"

At this sight the knight could no longer restrain his impatience,
but jumped out of the boat; and although the water reached up
under his arms, strode forward, crying--

"Courage, my brave fellows; down with the churls. Kill, slay, give
no quarter. He who brings me the head of the burgomaster shall be
my heir! His vile son hath brought my daughter to shame. Kill
all--all! I will never outlive this day. Ye shall all be my
heritors--only kill! kill! kill!"

Then he jumps on land and goes to draw his sword, but he has
none--only the scabbard is hanging there; and as the Stargard men
are already pressing thick upon them, he shouts--

"A sword, a sword! give me a sword! My good castle of Stramehl for
a sword, that I may slay this base-born churl of a burgomaster!"

But a blood-hound jumped at his throat, and tore him to the
ground, and as he felt the horrible muzzle closer to his face, he
screamed out--

"Save me! save me! Oh, woe is me!"

And at the same moment, Sidonia's voice was heard from the vessel,
shrieking--

"Father, father, save me! this groom is beating me to death--he is
killing me!" while a loud roar of laughter from the crew
accompanied her cries.

No one, however, came to save the knight; for the Stargardians
were slaying right and left, and Otto's followers were utterly
discomfited. So the knight tried to draw his dagger, and having
got hold of it, plunged it with great force into the heart of the
ferocious animal, who fell back dead, and Otto sprang to his feet.
Just then, however, a tanner recognised him, and seizing hold of
him by the arms, carried him off to the other prisoners.

Now, indeed, might he call on the mountains to fall on him, and
the hills to cover him (Hosea x.); and now he might feel, too,
what a terrible thing it is to fall into the hands of the living
God (Hebrews x.); for the Jesu wounds, I'm thinking, burned then
like hell-fire in his heart.

_Summa_, as the wretched man was brought before the
burgomaster, who sat down upon a bank and wiped his sword in the
grass, the latter cried out--

"Well, sir knight, you would not heed me; you have worked your
will. Now, do you understand what retaliation means--'An eye for
an eye, a tooth for a tooth'?"

And as the other stood quite silent, he continued--

"Where is your charter for the Jena dues? Perchance it is
contained in this letter, which I have received to-day from her
Grace of Wolgast, addressed to you. Hand a lantern here, that the
knight may read it! If the charter is not therein, then he shall
be flung into prison this night with his followers, until my lord,
Duke Barnim, pronounces judgment upon him."

The ferryman advanced and held a light; but Otto had scarcely
looked over the letter when he began to tremble as if he would
fall to the ground, and then sighed forth, like the rich man in
hell--

"Have mercy on me, and give me a drink of water!"

They brought him the water, and then he added--

"Jacob, hast thou, too, had any tidings of our children?"

"Alas!" the other answered; "Ulrich has written all to me."

"Then have mercy on me. Listen how your godless son there in the
vessel is beating my daughter to death, and how she is shrieking
for help."

As the burgomaster heard these unexpected tidings, he sent
messengers to the vessel, with orders to bring the pair
immediately before him.

Meanwhile the other prisoners besought the burgomaster to let them
go, for they were feudal vassals of Otto Bork, and must do as he
commanded them. Besides, he told them that Duke Barnim had given
him the dues, and therefore they held it their duty to assist him
in collecting them.

And as Otto confirmed their words, saying that he had indeed
deceived them, the burgomaster turned to his party, and cried--

"How say you then, worthy burghers and dear friends, shall we let
the vassals run, and keep the lord? for, if the master lies, are
the servants to be punished if they believe him? Speak, worthy
friends."

Then all the burghers cried--

"Let them go, let them go; but keep the knight a prisoner."

Upon which all the retainers took to their heels, not forgetting,
though, to hoist the cask of wine upon their shoulders, and so
they fled away into the wood.

Now comes a great crowd from all the vessels, accompanying the
infamous pair, mocking, and gibing, and laughing at them, so that
no one can hear a word for the tumult. But the burgomaster bids
them hold their peace, and let the guilty pair be placed before
him.

He remained a long while silent, gazing at them both, then sighing
deeply, addressed his son--

"Oh, thou lost son, hast thou not yet given up thy dissolute
courses? What is this I hear of thee in Wolgast? Now thou must
needs humble this noble maiden, and bring dishonour on her
house--flinging all thy father's admonitions to the wind--"

Here the son interrupted--

"True; but this noble maiden had thrown herself in his way, like a
common girl, and he was only flesh and blood like other men. Why
did she follow him so?"

Whereupon the father replied--

"Oh, thou shameless child, who, like the prodigal in Scripture,
hast destroyed thy substance with harlots and riotous living, in
place of humbleness and repentance, dost thou impudently tell of
this poor young maiden's shame before all the world? Oh, son! oh,
son! even the blind heathen said, '_Ego illum periisse puto, cui
quidem periit pudor_' [Footnote: Plautus in Bacchid.]--which
means, 'I esteem him dead in whom shame is dead.' Therefore is thy
sin doubled, being a Christian, for thou hast boasted of thy shame
before the people here, and held up the young maiden to their
contempt, besides having beaten her so on board the vessel that
many heard her screams, as if she were only a common wench, and
not a castle and land dowered maiden."

To which Appelmann answered, that she had called him a common
groom and a base-born burgher churl. But his father commanded him
to be silent, and bid his men first bind the knight's hands behind
his back, and then those of his son, and so carry them both to
prison; but to let the maiden go free.

When the knight heard that he was to be bound, his pride revolted,
and he offered any ransom, or to give any compensation that could
be demanded for the injury he had done them. Every one knew his
wealth, and that he had power to keep his word to the uttermost.
But the burgomaster made answer, "Eye for eye, and tooth for
tooth; how say you, sir knight--speak the truth, if you had taken
me prisoner, as I have taken you, would you have bound my hands or
not?" To which the knight replied, "Well, Jacob, I will not speak
a falsehood, for I feel that my end is near;--I would have bound
your hands."

Hereupon the brave burgomaster answered, "I know it well; however,
as you have answered me honestly, I will spare you. Burghers, do
not bind his hands, neither those of my son. Ye have enough to
suffer yet before ye, and God give you both grace to repent. And
now to the town! The crew shall declare to-morrow morn, before the
honourable council, what they have lost by the knight's means; and
he shall make it all good again to them."

So all the people returned with great uproar and rejoicing back to
the town, and the bell from St. Mary's and St. John's rung forth
merry peals, and all the people of the town ran forth to meet
them; but when they saw the knight a prisoner, and his empty
scabbard hanging by his side, they clapped their hands and
huzzaed, shouting, "So fell the Stargardians upon Stramehl." Thus
with merry laughter, and jests, and mockings, they carried him up
the street to the tower called the Red Sea, and there locked him
up, well guarded.

Here again he prayed the burgomaster to accept a ransom, but in
vain. Whereupon he at last solicited pen, paper, and ink, and a
light, that he might indite a letter to his Grace, Duke Barnim;
and this was granted to him.

As for his unworthy son, the burgomaster had him carried to his
own house, and there placed him in a room, with three stout
burghers as a guard over him. And Sidonia was placed by herself in
another little chamber.




CHAPTER III.

_Of Otto Bark's dreadful suicide--Item, how Sidonia and Johann
Appelmann were brought before the burgomaster._


During that night there was a strong suspicion upon every one's
mind that something terrible was going to happen; for a great
storm arose at midnight, and raged fearfully round the Red Sea
tower, so that it seemed to rock, and when the night-watch went
round to examine it, behold three toads crept out, and set
themselves upright upon the parapet like little manikins, as the
hares sometimes make themselves into manikins.

What all this denoted was discovered next morning, for when the
jailer entered Otto's cell in the tower, he saw him lying on the
floor in a pool of blood, with his own dagger sticking in his
heart. On the table stood the lamp which he had asked for, still
burning feebly, and near it a great many written papers.

The man instantly ran for the burgomaster, who followed him with
all speed to the tower. They felt the corpse, but it was already
quite cold. So then a messenger was despatched for the chirurgeon,
to hold a _visum repertum_ over him.

Meantime they examined the papers, and found first my gracious
Lady of Wolgast's letter to the unfortunate father--the same which
had made him tremble so the day before--and therein was related
all the shameful circumstances concerning Sidonia, just as Ulrich
had stated them in the letter to the burgomaster. Then they came
upon his last will and testament; but where the seal ought to have
been, there lay a large drop of blood, with this memorandum
beneath it: "This is my heart's first blood which I have affixed
here, in place of a seal, and may he who slights it be accursed
for evermore, even as my daughter Sidonia."

In this testament he had completely disinherited his daughter
Sidonia, and made his son Otto sole inheritor of all his property,
castles, and lands (for his daughter Clara was already dead, and
had left no children). Nothing should his daughter Sidonia have
but two farm-houses in Zachow, [Footnote: A small town near
Stramehl, a mile and a half from Regenwalde.] just to keep her
from beggary, and to save the ancient, illustrious name of their
house from falling into further contempt. Yet should his son think
proper to give her further _alimentum_, he was at liberty so
to do. Lastly, for the second and third time, he cursed his
daughter, to whom he owed all his misery, from the affair with the
apprentice to that concerning the Jena dues, up to this his most
miserable and wretched death. _Item_, the burgomaster picked
up another letter, which was addressed to himself, and wherein the
knight prayed, first, that his body might not be drawn by the
executioner to burial, as was the custom with suicides, but
conveyed honourably to Stramehl, and there deposited in the vault
of his family; secondly, that his daughter Sidonia might be sent
to Zachow, there to learn how to live humbly as a peasant
maid--for that she might look to being a Duchess of Pomerania,
only when she could keep her evil desires still for even a couple
of days.

Then he cursed her so that it was pitiable to read; and proved
that, if he had been a more God-fearing father, she might have
been a different daughter; for as St. Paul says (Galatians vi.),
"What a man soweth, that shall he also reap." The letter further
said, that, for the good deed done to his corpse, the burgomaster
should take all the gold found upon his person, consisting of
eighty good rose-nobles, and indemnify himself therewith for the
loss of his spices that day in Stramehl when they were scattered
before the Jews. He lastly desired his last will and testament to
be conveyed to his son, along with his corpse; and further, his
son was to send compensation to the crew for the cask of wine and
whatever other losses they had sustained, according to his
knightly word which he had pledged to them.

_Summa_, when the chirurgeon arrived and the body was
examined, there was found upon the unfortunate knight a purse,
embroidered with pearls and diamonds, containing eighty
rose-nobles, which the burgomaster in no wise disdained to
receive, and then laid the whole matter before the honourable
council, with the petition of Otto concerning the corpse. The
honourable council fully justified the burgomaster for all he had
done, and gave their opinion, that as the good town had no
jurisdiction over the knight, so they could have none over his
body, and therefore let it be removed with all honour to Stramehl,
particularly as he had in all things made amends for the wrong he
had done them. As regarded Sidonia, two porters should be sent to
convey her to Zachow.

Meantime Sidonia had heard of her father's horrible death, and lay
on the ground nearly insensible from grief. Just then the
burgomaster returned from the council-hall, and commanded that she
and his profligate son should be brought before him. When they
arrived, he asked how it happened that they were both found in the
vessel, for Ulrich, the Grand Chamberlain, had written to inform
him that Sidonia had been sent away in a coach to Stettin, with
the executioner on the box.

Here Sidonia sobbed so violently that no word could she utter;
therefore the son replied that such had been done, but that he
had been given a horse from the ducal stables, and had followed
the coach; and when they stopped at Uckermund for the night, he
had secretly got speech with Sidonia, and advised her to try and
remove the planks from the bottom of the carriage and escape to
him, for that he would be quite close at hand. And he did what he
could that night to loosen the boards himself. So in the morning
Sidonia got them up easily, and first dropped her baggage out
through the hole, which he picked up; and then, as they came to a
soft, sandy tract where the coach had to go very slowly, she let
herself also down through it, and sinking in the deep sand, let
the coach go over her without any hurt. Then he came to her, and
they fled to the next town, where he bought a waggon from some
peasants, for her and her luggage to proceed into Stargard, for
she was ashamed to appear before Duke Barnim, and wished to get on
from Stargard to Stramehl; but when they reached Damm, they heard
such wild tales of the robbers and partisans who infested the
roads, that Sidonia grew alarmed, and made him go by water for
safety. So he left the horse and waggon at the inn, and took ship
with the merchants who were going to Stargard. These were their
adventures. The rest his father knew as well as himself.

The burgomaster then asked Sidonia had he spoken truth. So she
dried her eyes, and nodded her head for "Yes."

Then he admonished her gravely, for that she, a noble maiden,
could have dishonoured herself with a mere burgher's son, like his
Johann, in whom even he, his own father, must say, there was
nothing to tempt any girl. And now she knew the truth of those
words of St. James: "Lust, when it hath conceived, bringeth forth
sin; and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death."

Her sin had, indeed, brought forth her father's death;--would that
he could say only his _temporal_ death. This her father had
himself asserted in his testament, which he held now in his hands,
and for this cause had left all his goods, lands, and castles to
her brother Otto--only giving her two farm-houses in Zachow to
save her from the beggar's staff, and their noble name from
falling into yet greater contempt--and, in addition, he had cursed
her with terrible curses; but these might be yet turned away, if
she would incline her heart to God, and lead a pious, honest life
for the rest of her days. And much more the worthy man preached to
her; but she interrupted him, having found her tongue at last, and
exclaimed in wrath, "What! has the good-for-nothing old churl
written this? Let me see it; it cannot be true."

So the burgomaster reached her the paper, and, as she read, her
colour changed, and at last she shrieked aloud and fell down
before the burgomaster, clasping his knees, and praying by the
Jesu cross not to send such a testament to her brother, for that
he was still harder than her father, because he was by nature
avaricious, and would grudge her even salt with her bread. Let him
remember that his son had promised her marriage, and would he
destroy his own children?

Then Jacob Appelmann turned to his profligate son, and asked,
"Does she speak the truth? Have you promised her marriage?"

But the shameless knave answered, "True, I so promised her, when
we were at Uckermund; but now that she has no money, I wash my
hands of her."

Such villainy made the old man flame with indignation. "He would
make him know that he must stand by his word--he would force him
to it, if he could only think it would be for the advantage of
this wretched girl. But he would admonish her to give him up; did
she not see that he was shameless, cruel, and selfish? and how
could she ever hope to turn to God and lead a new life with such
an infamous partner? _Item_, his son should be made to work,
and to feel poverty, so that his evil desires might be stifled;
and as for her, let her go in God's name to Zachow, and there in
solitude repent her sins, and strive to win the favour of God."

But that was no water for her mill; so she continued to lament,
and weep, and pray the burgomaster not to send the will to her
harsh brother; upon which he answered mildly, "Wert thou to lie at
my feet till morning, it would not help thee: the testament goes
this day to Stramehl; but I will do this for thee. Thy father left
me some rose-nobles, in a purse which he carried about with him,
as a compensation for my spices, which he strewed before the Jews
in Stramehl, of which deed thou, too, wert also guilty, as I know;
therefore I was not ashamed to take the money. But of the purse
thy father said naught; so I had it in my mind to keep it--for, in
truth, it is of more worth than the nobles it contained. If I
mistake not, these are true pearls and diamonds with which it is
broidered. Look, here it is. What sayest thou?"

Here she sobbed, and answered, "She knew it well; she had
broidered the purse herself. They were her mother's pearls and
diamonds, and part of her bridal gear; truly they were worth three
thousand florins."

"Then," said the brave old man, "I will give thee this purse,
since it was not named either for me or for thy brother at
Stramehl. Take it to Zachow; thou wilt make a good penny of it. Be
pious, and God-fearing, and industrious, remembering what the Holy
Scripture says (Prov. xxxi.): 'A virtuous woman takes wool and
flax, and labours diligently with her hands. She stretches out her
hands to the wheel, and her fingers grasp the spindle.' Hadst thou
learned this, in place of thy costly broidery, methinks it would
have been better with thee this day."

As he thus spoke, he put the purse in her hands, and she instantly
hid it in her pocket. But the profligate Johann now suddenly
became repentant, for he thought, if I can obtain nothing good
from my father, I may at least get the purse. So he began to weep
and lament, and fell down, too, at his father's feet, saying, if
he would only pardon him this once, he would indeed take this poor
maiden to wife, as he had promised her, for he alone was guilty of
her sin; only would his heart's dearest father forgive him? And so
the hypocrite went on with his lies.

Whereupon his father made answer honourably and mildly--"Such
promises thou hast often made, but never kept. However, I will try
thee yet again. If thou wilt spend each day diligently writing in
the council-office, and return each night to sleep in my chamber,
and continue this good conduct for a few years, to testify thy
repentance, as a brave and upright son, and Sidonia meanwhile
continues to lead a godly and humble life at Zachow, then, in
God's name, ye shall both marry, and make amends for your sin; but
not before that."

As he said this, and bid his son stand up, the hypocrite answered,
yes, he would do the will of his dear father; but then he must
keep back this testament; so would his children be happy.
Otherwise, wherefore should they marry?--what could they live on?
A couple of cabins in Zachow would not be enough.

"Truly," replied the old man, "if I were as great a knave as thou
art, I would do as thou hast said; yet, though the loss of the
spices, which her father wickedly destroyed, did me such injury
that I had to sell my house, to get the means of living and
keeping thee at the University of Grypswald, I will keep my hands
pure from the property of another, even if this property belonged
to my greatest enemy, and the enemy of this good town also.
_Summa_, this day thou shalt go to the council-office, the
testament to Stramehl, and Sidonia to Zachow."

So the knave was silent: but Sidonia still resisted; she would not
go to Zachow--never; but if he would send her to Stettin, she was
certain the good Duke Barnim would be kind to an unfortunate
maiden, who had done nothing more than what thousands do in
secret. And whatever the gracious Prince resolved concerning her,
she would abide by.

When the burgomaster heard this speech, he saw that no amendment
was to be expected from her; and as he had no authority to compel
her to Zachow, he promised, at last, to send her to Stettin on the
following day, for there were two market waggons going, and she
could travel in one, and thereby be more secure against all
danger. And so it was done.




CHAPTER IV.

_How Sidonia meets Claude Uckermann again, and solicits him to
wed her--Item, what he answered, and how my gracious Lord of
Stettin received her._


Sidonia, next morning, got a good soft seat in the waggon, upon
the sack of a cloth merchant; he was cousin to the burgomaster,
and promised to take her with him, out of friendship for him. All
the men in the waggon were armed with spears and muskets, for fear
of the robbers, who were growing more daring every day.

So they proceeded; but had not got far from the town when a
horseman galloped furiously after them, and called out that he
would accompany them; and this was Claude Uckermann, of whom I
have spoken so much in my former book. He, too, was going to
Stettin. Now when Sidonia saw him, her eyes glistened like a cat's
when she sees a mouse, and she rejoiced at the prospect of such
good company, for since the wedding of her sister, never had this
handsome youth come across her, though she was constantly looking
out for him. So as he rode up by the waggon, she greeted him, and
prayed him to alight and come and sit by her upon the sack, that
they might talk together of dear old times.

She imagined, no doubt, that he knew nothing of all that had
happened; but her disgrace was as public at Stargard as if it had
been pealed from the great bell of St. Mary's. He therefore knew
her whole story, and answered, that sitting by her was
disagreeable to him now; and he rode on. This was plain enough,
one would think; but Sidonia still held by her delusion; for as
they reached the first inn, and stopped to feed the horses, she
saw him stepping aside to avoid her, and seating himself at some
distance on a bank. So she put on her flattering face, and
advanced to him, saying, "Would not the dear young knight make up
with her?--what ailed him?--it was impossible he could resent her
silly fun at her sister's wedding. Oh! if he had come again and
asked her seriously to be his wife, in place of there in the
middle of the dancing, as if he had been only jesting, she would
never have had another husband, for from that till now, never had
so handsome a knight met her eyes; but she was still free."

Hereupon the young man (as he told me himself) made answer--"Yes,
she had rightly judged, he was only jesting, and taking his
pastime with her, as they sat there upon the carpet, for he held
in unspeakable aversion and disgust a cup from which every one
sipped."

Still Sidonia would not comprehend him, and began to talk about
Wolgast. But he looked down straight before him in the grass, and
never spake a word, but turned on his heel, and entered the inn,
to see after his horse. So he got rid of her at last.

As the waggon set off again, she began to sing so merrily and
loudly, that all the wood rang with it. And the young knight was
not so stupid but that he truly discerned her meaning, which was
to show him that she cared little for his words, since she could
go away in such high spirits.

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