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Sidonia The Sorceress V1

W >> William Mienhold >> Sidonia The Sorceress V1




_How the robbers attack Prince Ernest and his bride in the
Uckermann forest, and Marcus Bork and Dinnies Kleist come to their
rescue._


The young Lord of Wolgast and his young bride, the Princess Sophia
Hedwig, arrived in due time at the court of Stettin, on a visit to
their illustrious brother, Duke Johann Frederick. During the ten
days of their stay, there was no end to the banquetings, huntings,
fishings, and revellings of all kinds, to do honour to their
presence.

The young lord has quite recovered from his long and strange
illness. But the young bride complains a little. Whereupon my Lord
of Stettin jests with her, and the courtiers make merry, so that
the young bride blushes and entreats her husband to take her away
from this impudent court of Stettin, and take her home to his
illustrious mother at Wolgast.

Prince Ernest consents, but as the wind is contrary, he arranges
to make the journey with a couple of carriages through the
Uckermann forest, not waiting for the grand escort of cavaliers
and citizens which his lady mother had promised to send to
Stettin, to convey the bride with all becoming honour to her own
future residence at Wolgast.

His brother reminded him of the great danger from the robber-band
in the wood, now that the courts of justice were closed, and that
Sidonia and Johann were hovering in the vicinity, ready for any
iniquity. Indeed, he trusted the states would soon be brought to
reason by the dreadful condition of the country, and give him the
gold he wanted. These robbers would do more for him than he could
do for himself. And this was not the only band that was to be
feared; for, since the fatal bankruptcy of the Loitz family,
robbers, and partisans, and freebooters had sprung up in every
corner of the land. Then he related the trick concerning his two
Andalusian stallions. And Duke Barnim the elder told him of his
loss at Zachan, and that no one else but the knave Appelmann had
been at the bottom of it. So, at last, Prince Ernest half resolved
to await the escort from Wolgast. However, the old Duke continued
jesting with the bride, after his manner, so that the young
Princess was blushing with shame every moment, and finally
entreated her husband to set off at once.

When his Grace of Stettin found he could prevail nothing, he bade
them a kind farewell, promising in eight days to visit them at
Wolgast, for the wedding festivities; and he sent stout Dinnies
Kleist, with six companions, to escort them through the most
dangerous part of the forest, which was a tract extending for
about seven miles.

Now, when they were half-way through the forest, a terrible storm
came on of hail, rain, thunder, and lightning; and though the
Prince and his bride were safe enough in the carriage, yet their
escort were drenched to the skin, and dripped like rivulets. The
princely pair therefore entreated them to return to Falkenwald,
and dry their clothes, for there was no danger to be apprehended
now, since they were more than half through the wood, and close to
the village of Mutzelburg.

So Dinnies and his companions took their leave, and rode off.
Shortly after the galloping of a horse was heard, and this was
Marcus Bork; for he was on his way to purchase the lands of
Crienke, previous to his marriage with Clara von Dewitz, and had a
heavy sack of gold upon his shoulder, and a servant along with
him. Having heard at Stettin that the Prince and his young bride
were on the road, he had followed them, as fast as he could, to
keep them company.

By this time they had reached Barnim's Cross, and the Prince
halted to point it out to his bride, and tell her the legend
concerning it; for the sun now shone forth from the clouds, and
the storm was over. But he first addressed his faithful Marcus,
and asked, had he heard tidings lately of his cousin Sidonia? But
he had heard nothing. He would hear soon enough, I'm thinking.

Then seeing that his good vassal Marcus was thoroughly wet, his
Grace advised him to put on dry clothes; but he had none with him.
Whereupon his Grace handed him his own portmanteau out of the
coach window, and bid him take what he wanted.

Marcus then lifted the money-bag from his shoulder, which his
Grace drew into the coach through the window--and sprang into the
wood with the portmanteau, to change his clothes. While the Prince
tarried for him, he related the story of Barnim's Cross to his
young wife, thus:--

"You must know, dearest, that my ancestor, Barnim, the second of
the name, was murdered, out of revenge, in this very spot by one
of his vassals, named Vidante von Muckerwitze. For this aforesaid
ancestor had sent him into Poland under some pretence, in order
the better to accomplish his designs upon the beautiful Mirostava
of Warborg, Vidante's young wife. But the warder of Vogelsang, a
village about two miles from here, pleasantly situated on the
river Haff, and close to which lay the said Vidante's castle,
discovered the amour, and informed the knight how he was
dishonoured. His wrath was terrible when the news was brought to
him, but he spoke no word of the matter until St. John's day in
the year----"

But here his Grace paused in his story, for he had forgotten the
year; so he drove on the carriage close up to the cross, where he
could read the date--"St John's day, A.D. MCCXCII."--and there
stopped, with the blessed cross of our Lord covering and filling
up the whole of the coach window.

Ah, well it is said--Prov. xx. 24--"Each man's going is of the
Lord, what man is there who understandeth his way?"

Now when the Princess had read the date for herself, she asked,
what had happened to the Duke, his ancestor? To which the Prince
replied--

"Here, in these very bushes, the jealous knight lay concealed,
while the Duke was hunting. And here, in this spot, the Duke threw
himself down upon the grass to rest, for he was weary. And he
whistled for his retinue, who had been separated from him, when
the knight sprang from his hiding-place and murdered him where he
lay. His false wife he reserved for a still more cruel death.

"For he brought a coppersmith from Stettin, and had him make a
copper coffin for the wretched woman, who was obliged to help him
in the work. Then he bade her put on her bridal dress, and forced
her to enter the coffin, where he had her soldered up alive, and
buried. And the story goes, that when any one walks over the spot,
the coffin clangs in the earth like a mass-bell, to this very
day." Meanwhile Marcus had retreated behind a large oak, to dress
himself in the young Duke's clothes; but the wicked robber crew
were watching him all the time from the wood, and just as he drew
the dry shirt over his head, before he had time to put on a single
other garment, they sprang upon him with loud shouts, Sidonia the
foremost of all, screaming, "Seize the knave! seize the base spy!
he is my greatest enemy!" So Marcus rushed back to the coach, just
as he was, and placing the cross as a shield between him and the
robbers, cried out loudly to his Highness for a sword.

The Prince would have alighted to assist him, but his young bride
wound her arms so fast around him, shrieking till the whole wood
re-echoed, that he was forced to remain inside. Up came the
robber-band now, and attacked the coach furiously; musket after
musket was fired at it and the horses, but luckily the rain had
spoiled the powder, so they threw away their muskets, while
Sidonia screamed, "Seize the false-hearted liar, who broke his
marriage promise to me! seize his screaming harlot! drag her from
the coach! Where is she?--let me see her!--we will cram her into
the old oak-tree; there she can hold her marriage festival with
the wild-cats. Give her to me!--give her to me! I will teach her
what marriage is!" And she sprang wildly forward, while the others
flung their spears at Marcus. But the blessed cross protected him,
and the spears stuck in the wood or in the body of the carriage,
while he hewed away right and left, striking down all that
approached him, till he stood in a pool of blood, and the white
shirt on him was turned to red.

As Sidonia rushed to the coach, he wounded her in the hand, upon
which, with loud curses and imprecations, she ran round to the
other coach window, calling out, "Come hither, come hither,
Johann! here is booty, here is the false cat! Come hither, and
drag her out of the coach window for me!" And now Marcus Bork was
in despair, for the coachman had run away from fear, and though
his sword did good service, yet their enemies were gathering thick
round them. So he bade the Princess, in a low voice, to tear open
his bag of money, for the love of heaven, with all speed, and
scatter the gold out of the windows with both hands; for help was
near, he heard the galloping of a horse; could they gain but a few
moments, they were saved. Thereupon the Princess rained the gold
pieces from the window, and the stupid mob instantly left all else
to fling themselves on the ground for the bright coins, fighting
with each other as to who should have them. In vain Johann roared,
"Leave the gold, fools, and seize the birds here in this cage; ye
can have the gold after." But they never heeded him, though he
cursed and swore, and struck them right and left with his sword.

But Marcus, meanwhile, had nearly come to a sad end; for the old
gipsy hag swore she would stab him with her knife, and while the
poor Marcus was defending himself from a robber who had rushed at
him with a dagger, she crept along upon the ground, and lifted her
great knife to plunge into his side.

Just then, like a messenger from God, comes the stout Dinnies
Kleist, galloping up to the rescue; for after he had ridden a good
piece upon the homeward road, he stopped his horse to empty the
water out of his large jack-boots, for there it was plumping up
and down, and he was still far from Falkenwald. While one of his
men emptied the boots, another wandered through the wood picking
the wild strawberries, that blushed there as red as scarlet along
the ground.

While he was so bent down close to the earth, the shrieks of my
gracious lady reached his ear, upon which he ran to tell his
master, who listened likewise; and finding they proceeded from the
very direction where he had left the bridal pair, he suspected
that some evil had befallen them. So springing into his saddle, he
bade his fellows mount with ail speed, and dashed back to the spot
where they had left the carriage.

Marcus was just now fainting from loss of blood, and his weary
hand could scarcely hold the sword, while his frame swayed back
and forward, as if he were near falling to the ground. The gipsy
hag was close beside him, with her arm extended, ready to plunge
the knife into his side, when the heavy stroke of a sword came
down on it, and arm and knife fell together to the ground, and
Dinnies shouting, "Jodute! Jodute!" swung round his sword a second
time, and the head of the robber carl fell upon the arm of the
hag. Then he dashed round on his good horse to the other side of
the carriage, hewed right and left among the stupid fools who were
scraping up the gold, while his fellows chased them into the wood,
so that the alarmed band left all this booty, and ran in every
direction to hide themselves in the forest. In vain Johann roared,
and shouted, and swore, and opposed himself single-handed to the
knight's followers. He received a blow that sent him flying, too,
after his band, and Sidonia along with him, so that none but the
dead remained around the carriage.

Thus did the brave Dinnies Kleist and Marcus Bork save the Prince
and his bride, like true knights as they were; but Marcus is
faint, and leans for support against the carriage, while before
him lie three robber carls whom he had slain with his own hand,
although he fought there only in his shirt; but the blessed cross
had been his shield. And there, too, lay the gipsy's arm with the
knife still clutched in the hand, but the hag herself had fled
away; and round the brave Dinnies was a circle of dead men, seven
in number, whom he and his followers had killed; and the earth all
round looked like a ripe strawberry field, it was so red with
blood.

One can imagine what joy filled the hearts of the princely pair,
when they found that all their peril was past. They alighted from
the coach, and when the Princess saw Marcus lying there in a dead
faint, with his garment all covered with blood, she lamented
loudly, and tore off her own veil to bind up his wounds, and
brought wine from the carriage, which she poured herself through
his lips, like a merciful Samaritan; and when he at last opened
his eyes, and kissed the little hands of the Princess out of
gratitude, she rejoiced greatly. And the Prince himself ran to the
wood for the portmanteau, which they found behind the oak, and
helped to dress the poor knight, who was so weak that he could not
raise a finger.

Then they lifted him into the coach, while the Prince comforted
him, saying, he trusted that he would soon be well again, for he
would pray daily to the Lord Jesus for him, whose blessed cross
had been their protection, and that he should have all his gold
again, and the lands of Crienke in addition. So faithful a vassal
must never be parted from his Prince, for inasmuch as he hated
Sidonia, so he loved and praised him. They were like the two
Judases in Scripture, of whom some one had said, "What one gave to
the devil, the other brought back to God."

And now he saw the wonderful hand of God in all; for if it had not
rained, the powder of the robber-band would have been dry, and
then they were all lost. _Item_, the knight would not have
stopped to empty his boots, and they never would have heard the
screams of his dear wife. _Item_, if he had himself not
forgotten the date, he would never have driven up close to the
cross, which cross had saved them all, but, in particular, saved
their dear Marcus, after a miraculous manner. "Look how the
blessed wood is everywhere pierced with spears, and yet we are all
living! Therefore let us hope in the Lord, for He is our helper
and defender!"

Then the Duke turned to the stout Dinnies, and prayed him to enter
his service, but in vain, for he was sworn vassal to his Highness
of Stettin. So his Grace took off his golden collar, and put it on
his neck, and the Princess drew off her diamond ring to give him,
whereupon her spouse laughed heartily, and asked, Did she think
the good knight had a finger for her little ring? To which she
replied, But the brave knight may have a dear wife who could wear
it for her sake, for he must not go without some token of her
gratitude.

However, the knight put back the ring himself, saying that he had
no spouse, and would never have one; therefore the ring was
useless. So the Princess wonders, and asks why he will have no
spouse; to which he replied, that he feared the fate of Samson,
for had not love robbed him of his strength? He, too, might meet a
Delilah, who would cut off his long hair. Then riding up close to
the carriage, he removed his plumed hat from his head, and down
fell his long black hair, that was gathered up under it, over his
shoulders like a veil, even till it swept the flanks of his horse.
Would not her Grace think it a grief and sorrow if a woman sheared
those locks? In such pleasant discourse they reached Mutzelburg,
where, as the good Marcus was so weak, they resolved to put up for
the night, and send for a chirurgeon instantly to Uckermund. And
so it was done.




CHAPTER XI.

_Of the ambassadors in the tavern of Mutzelburg--Item, how the
miller, Konnemann, is discovered, and made by Dinnies Kleist to
act as guide to the robber cave, where they find all the
women-folk lying apparently dead, through some devil's magic of
the gipsy mother._


When their Highnesses entered the inn at Mutzelburg, they found it
filled with burghers and peasants out of Uckermund, Pasewalk, and
other adjacent places, on their way to Stettin, to petition his
Grace the Duke to open the courts of justice, for thieves and
robbers had so multiplied throughout the land, that no road was
safe; and all kinds of witchcraft, and imposture, and devil's work
were so rife, that the poor people were plagued out of their
lives, and no redress was to be had, seeing his Grace had closed
all the courts of justice. Forty burghers had been selected to
present the petition, and great was the joy to meet now with his
Grace Prince Ernest, for assuredly he would give them a letter to
his illustrious brother, and strengthen the prayer of their
petition. The Prince readily promised to do this, particularly as
his own life and that of his bride had just been in such sore
peril, all owing to the obstinacy of his Grace of Stettin in not
opening the courts.

Meanwhile the leech had visited good Marcus Bork, who was much
easier after his wounds were dressed, and promised to do well, to
the great joy of their Graces; and Dinnies Kleist went to the
stable to see after his horse, there being so many there, in
consequence of this gathering of envoys, that he feared they might
fight. Now, as he passed through the kitchen, the knight observed
a man bargaining with the innkeeper; and he had a kettle before
him, into which he was cramming sausages, bread, ham, and all
sorts of eatables. But he would have taken no further heed, only
that the carl had but one tail to his coat, which made the knight
at once recognise him as the very fellow whose coat-tail he had
hewed off in the forest. He sprang on him, therefore; and as the
man drew his knife, Dinnies seized hold of him and plumped him
down, head foremost, into a hogshead of water, holding him
straight up by the feet till he had drunk his fill. So the poor
wretch began to quiver at last in his death agonies; whereupon the
knight called out, "Wilt thou confess? or hast thou not drunk
enough yet?"

"He would confess, if the knight promised him life. His name was
Konnemann; he had lost his mill and all he was worth, by the Loitz
bankruptcy, therefore had joined the robber-band, who held their
meeting in an old cave in the forest, where also they kept their
booty." On further question, he said it was an old, ruined place,
with the walls all tumbling down. A man named Muckerwitze had
lived there once, who buried his wife alive in this cave,
therefore it had been deserted ever since.

Then the knight asked the innkeeper if he knew of such a place in
the forest; who said, "Yes." Then he asked if he knew this fellow,
Konnemann; but the host denied all knowledge of him (though he
knew him well enough, I think). Upon which Konnemann said, "That
he merely came to buy provisions for the band, who were hungry,
and had despatched him to see what he could get, while they
remained hiding in the cave." The knight having laid these facts
before their Graces and the envoys, it was agreed that they should
steal a march upon the robbers next morning, and meanwhile keep
Konnemann safe under lock and key.

Next morning they set off by break of day, taking Konnemann as
guide, and surrounded the old ruin, which lay upon a hill buried
in oak-trees; but not a sound was heard inside. They approached
nearer--listened at the cave--nothing was to be heard. This
angered Dinnies Kleist, for he thought the miller had played a
trick on them, who, however, swore he was innocent; and as the
knight threatened to give him something fresh to drink in the
castle well, he offered to light a pine torch and descend into the
cave. Hardly was he down, however, when they heard him
screaming--"The robbers have murdered the women--they are all
lying here stone dead, but not a man is to be seen."

The knight then went down with his good sword drawn. True enough,
there lay the old hag, her daughter, and Sidonia, all stained with
blood, and stiff and cold, upon the damp ground. And when the
knight asked, "Which is Sidonia?" the fellow put the pine torch
close to her face, which was blue and cold. Then the knight took
up her little hand, and dropped it again, and shook his head, for
the said little hand was stiff and cold as that of a corpse.

_Summa_.--As there was nothing further to be done here, the
knight left the corpses to moulder away in the old cellar, and
returned with the burghers to Mutzelburg, when his Highness
wondered much over the strange event; but Marcus rejoiced that his
wicked cousin was now dead, and could bring no further disgrace
upon his ancient name.

But was the wicked cousin dead? She had heard every word that had
been said in the cave; for they had all drunk some broth made by
the gipsy mother, which can make men seem dead, though they hear
and see everything around them. Such devil's work is used by
robbers sometimes in extremity, as some toads have the power of
seeming dead when people attempt to seize them. It will soon be
seen what a horrible use Sidonia made of this devil's potion.

Wherefore she tried its effect upon herself now, I know not--I
have my own thoughts upon the subject--but it is certain that the
innkeeper, who was a secret friend of the robbers (as most
innkeepers were in those evil times), had sent a messenger by
night to warn them of their danger. So, while the band saved
themselves by hiding in the forest, perhaps the old hag
recommended this plan for the women, as they had got enough of
cold steel the day before; or perhaps the robbers wished to have a
proof of the power of this draught, in case they might want to
save themselves, some time or other, by appearing dead. Still I
cannot, with any certainty, assert why they should all three
choose to simulate death.

Further, just to show the daring of these robber-bands, now that
his Highness had closed the courts, I shall end this chapter by
relating what happened at Monkbude, a town through which their
Highnesses passed that same day, and which, although close to the
Stettin border, belongs to Wolgast.

It was Sunday, and after the priest had said Amen from the pulpit,
the sexton rung the kale-bell. This bell was a sign throughout all
Pomerania land, to the women-folk who were left at home in the
houses, to prepare dinner; for then, in all the churches, the
closing hymn began--"Give us, Lord, our daily bread." So the maid,
at the first stroke of the bell, lifted off the kale-pot from the
fire, and had the kale dished, with the sausages, and whatever
else was wanting, by the time that the hymn was over, and father
and mother had come out of church. Then, whatever poor wretch had
fasted all the week, and never tasted a morsel of blessed bread,
if he passed on a Sunday through the town, might get his fill; for
when the hymn is sung, "Give us, Lord, our daily bread," the doors
lie open, and no stranger or wayfarer is turned away empty.

Just before their Highnesses had entered the town, this kale-bell
had been rung, and each maid in the houses had laid the kale and
meat upon the table, ready for the family, when, behold! in rush a
troop of robbers from the forest, Appelmann at their head--seize
every dish with the kale and meat that had been laid on the
tables, stick the loaves into their pockets, and gallop away as
hard as they can across into the Stettin border.

How the maids screamed and lamented I leave unsaid; but if any one
of them followed and seized a robber by the hair, he drew his
knife, so she was glad enough to run back again, while the
impudent troop laughed and jeered. Thus was it then in dear
Pomerania land! It seemed as if God had forsaken them; for the
nobles began their feuds, as of old, and the Jews were tormented
even to the death--yea, even the pastors were chased away, as if,
indeed, they had all learned of Otto Bork, these nobles saying,
"What need of these idle, prating swaddlers, with their prosy
sermons and whining psalms, teaching, forsooth, that all men are
equal, and that God makes no difference between lord and peasant?
Away with them! If the people learn such doctrine, no wonder if
they grow proud and disobedient--better no priests in the land."
And such-like ungodly talk was heard everywhere.




CHAPTER XII.

_How the peasants in Marienfliess want to burn a witch, but are
hindered by Johann Appelmann and Sidonia, who discover an old
acquaintance in the witch, the girl Wolde Albrechts._


At this time, one David Grosskopf was pastor of Marienfliess. He
was a learned and pious man, and like other pious priests, was in
the habit of gathering all the women-folk of the parish in his
study of a winter's evening, particularly the young maidens, with
their spinning-wheels. And there they all sat spinning round the
comfortable fire, while he read out to them from God's Word, and
questioned them on it, and exhorted them to their duties. Thus was
it done every evening during the winter, the maidens spinning
diligently till midnight without even growing weary; or if one of
them nodded, she was given a cup of cold water to drink, to make
her fresh again. So there was plenty of fine linen by each New
Year's day, and their masters were well pleased. No peasant kept
his daughter at home, but sent her to the priest, where she
learned her duties, and was kept safe from the young men. Even old
mothers went there, among whom Trina Bergen always gave the best
answers, and was much commended by the priest in consequence. This
pleased her mightily, so that she boasted everywhere of it; but
withal she was an excellent old woman, only the neighbours looked
rather jealously on her.

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