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Sidonia The Sorceress V1

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This filled her with such joy that she danced, and smiled, and
flung herself into her mother's arms; nothing was wanting now to
her happiness! Just then her eyes rested upon Sidonia, who was
leaning against the wall, as pale as a corpse. Clara grew quite
calm in a moment, and asked, compassionately, "What aileth thee,
poor Sidonia?"

"_I am hungry!_" was the answer. At this the gentle bride was
so shocked, that the tears filled her eyes, and she exclaimed,
"Wait, thou shalt partake of my wedding-feast;" and away went she.

The attention of the others was, by this time, also directed to
Sidonia. And old Ulrich said, "Compose yourself, gracious lady; I
trust your son, the Prince, will not be so hard and stern as he
promises; now that the water has touched his own neck, methinks he
will soon come to reason. But what shall we do now with Sidonia?"

Upon which my Lady of Wolgast turned to her, and asked if she were
yet wedded to her gallows-bird? "Not yet," was the answer; "but
she would soon be." Then my gracious lady spat out at her; and,
addressing Ulrich, asked what he would advise.

So the stout old knight said, "If the matter were left to him, he
would just send for the executioner, and have her ears and nose
slit, as a warning and example, for no good could ever come of her
now, and then pack her off next day to her farm at Zachow; for if
they let her loose, she would run to her paramour again, and come
at last to gallows and wheel; but if they just slit her nose, then
he would hold her in abhorrence, as well as all other men-folk."

During this, Clara had entered, and set fish, and wild boar, and
meat, and bread, before the girl; and as she heard Ulrich's last
words, she bent down and whispered, "Fear nothing, Sidonia, I hope
to be able to protect thee, as I did once before; only eat,
Sidonia! Ah! hadst thou followed my advice! I always meant well by
thee; and even now, if I thought thou wouldst repent truly, poor
Sidonia, I would take thee with me to the castle of Saatzig, and
never let thee want for aught through life."

When Sidonia heard this, she wept, and promised amendment. Only
let Clara try her, for she could never go to Zachow and play the
peasant-girl. Upon which Clara turned to her Highness, and prayed
her Grace to give Sidonia up to her. See how she was weeping;
misfortune truly had softened her, and she would soon be brought
back to God. Only let her take her to Saatzig, and treat her as a
sister. At this, however, old Ulrich shook his head--"Clara,
Clara," he exclaimed, "knowest thou not that the Moor cannot
change his skin, nor the leopard his spots? I cannot, then, let
the serpent go. Think on our mother, girl; it is a bad work
playing with serpents."

Her Grace, too, became thoughtful, and said at last--

"Could we not send her to the convent at Marienfliess, or
somewhere else?"

"What the devil would she do in a convent?" exclaimed the old
knight. "To infect the young maidens with her vices, or plague
them with her pride? Now, there was nothing else for her but to be
packed off to Zachow."

Now Clara looked up once again at her husband with her soft,
tearful eyes, for he had said no word all this time, but remained
quite mute; and he drew her to him, and said--

"I understand thy wish, dear Clara, but the old knight is right.
It is a dangerous business, dear Clara! Let Sidonia go."

At this Sidonia crawled forth like a serpent from her corner, and
howled--

"Clara had pity on her, but he would turn her out to starve--he,
who bore her own name, and was of her own blood."

Alas! the good knight was ashamed to refuse any longer, and
finally promised the evil one that she should go with them to
Saatzig. So her Grace at last consented, but old Ulrich shook his
grey head ten times more.

"He had lived many years in the world, but never had it come to
his knowledge that a godless man was tamed by love. Fear was the
only teacher for them. All their love would be thrown away on this
harlot; for even if the stout Marcus kept her tight with bit and
rein, and tried to bring her back by fear, yet the moment his back
was turned, Clara would spoil all again by love and kindness."

However, nobody minded the good knight, though it all came to pass
just as he had prophesied.




CHAPTER XV.

_How Sidonia demeans herself at the castle of Saatzig, and how
Clara forgets the injunctions of her beloved husband, when he
leaves her to attend the Diet at Wollin, on the subject of the
courts--Item, how the Serene Prince Duke Johann Frederick beheads
his court fool with a sausage._


Summa.--Sidonia went to the castle of Saatzig, and her worthy
cousin Marcus gave her a little chamber to herself, in the third
story, close to the tower. It was the same room in which she
afterwards sat as a witch, for some days ere she was taken to
Oderburg. There was a right cheerful view from the windows down
upon the lake, which was close to the castle, and over the little
town of Jacobshagen, as far even as the meadows beyond. Here, too,
was left a Bible for her, and the _Opera Lutheri_ in
addition, with plenty of materials for spinning and embroidery,
for she had refused to weave. _Item_, a serving-wench was
appointed to attend on her, and she had permission to walk where
she pleased within the castle walls; but if ever seen beyond the
domain, the keepers had orders to bring her back by force, if she
would not return willingly.

In fine, the careful knight took every precaution possible to
render her presence as little baneful as could be, for, truth to
say, he had no faith whatever in her tears and seeming repentance.

First, he strictly forbade all his secretaries to interchange a
word with her, or even look at her. They need not know his reason,
but any one who transgressed his slightest command in this
particular, should be chased away instantly from the castle.

Secondly, he prayed his dear wife to let Sidonia eat her meals
alone, in her own little room, and never to see her but in the
presence of a third person.

Also, never to accept the slightest gift from her hand--fruit,
flower, or any kind of food whatsoever. These injunctions were the
more necessary, as the young bride had already given hopes of an
heir. Sidonia's rage and jealousy at this prospect of complete
happiness for Clara may be divined from her words to her maid,
Lene Penkun, a short time after she reached the castle--

"Ha! they are talking of the baptism already, forsooth; but it
might have been otherwise if I had come across her a little
sooner!"

This same maid also she sent to Daber for the spirit Chim, which
had been left behind at the last resting-place of the robbers,
never telling her it was a spirit, however, only a tame cat, that
was a great pet of hers. "It must be half dead with hunger now,
for it was four days since she had left it in the hollow of an old
oak in the forest, the poor creature! So let the maid take a flask
of sweet milk and a little saucer to feed it. She could not miss
her way, for, when she stepped out of the high-road at Daber into
the forest, there was a thorn-bush to her left hand, and just
beyond it a large oak where the ravens had their nests; in a
hollow of this oak, to the north side, lay her dear little cat.
But she must not tell any one about the matter, or they would
laugh at her for sending her maid two miles and more to look for a
cat. Men had no compassion or tenderheartedness nowadays to each
other, much less to a poor dumb animal. No; just let her say that
she went to fetch a robe which her mistress had left in the oak.
Here was an old gown; take this with her, and it would do to wrap
up the poor little pussy in it after she had fed it and warmed it,
so that no one might see it, for what a mock would all these
pitiless men make of her, if they heard the object of her message;
but she was not cruel like them."

Now, after some time, it happened that the states of the duchy
assembled at Wollin, to come to some arrangement with his Highness
respecting the opening of the courts of justice; and Marcus Bork,
along with all the other nobles, was summoned to attend the Diet.
So, with great grief, he had to leave his dear wife, but promised,
if possible, to return before she was taken with her illness. Then
he bid her be of good courage, and, above all things, to guard
herself, against Sidonia, and mind strictly all his injunctions
concerning her.

Alas! she too soon flung them all to the winds! For, behold,
scarcely had the good knight arrived at Wollin, when Clara was
delivered of a little son, at which great joy filled the whole
castle. And one messenger was despatched to Marcus, and another to
old Dewitz and his wife, with the tidings; but woe, alas! the good
old mother was going to stand sponsor for a nobleman's child in
the neighbourhood, and could not hasten then to save her dear
daughter from a terrible and cruel death. She cooked some broth,
however, for the young mother, and pouring it into a silver flask,
bid the messenger ride back with all speed to Saatzig, that it
might not be too cold. She herself would be over in the morning
early with her husband, and let her dear little daughter keep
herself warm and quiet.

Meanwhile Sidonia had heard of the birth, and sent her maid to
wish the young mother joy, and ask her permission just to give one
little kiss to her new cousin, for they told her he was a
beautiful infant.

Alas, alas! that Clara's joy should make her forget the judicious
cautions of her husband! Permission was given to the murderess,
and down she comes directly to offer her congratulations; even
affecting to weep for joy as she kissed the infant, and praying to
be allowed to act as nurse until her mother came from Daber.

"Why, she had no one about her but common serving-women! How could
she leave her dearest friend to the care of these old hags, when
she was in the castle, who owed everything to her dear Clara?"

And so she went on till poor Clara, even if she did not quite
believe her, felt ashamed to doubt so much apparent affection and
tenderness.

_Summa_.--She permitted her to remain, and we shall soon see
what murderous deeds Sidonia was planning against the poor young
mother. But first I must relate what happened at the Diet of
Wollin, to which Marcus Bork had been summoned.

His Highness Duke Johann had become somewhat more gracious to the
states since they had come to the Diet at their own cost, which
was out of the usage; and further, because, as old Ulrich
prophesied, he himself had felt the inconveniences resulting from
the present lawless state of the country.

Still he was ill-tempered enough, particularly as he had a fever
on him; and when the states promised at last that they would let
him have the money, he said, "So far good; but, till he saw the
gold, the courts should not be opened. Not that he misdoubted
them, but then he knew that they were sometimes as tedious in
handing out money as a peasant in paying his rent. The courts,
therefore, should not be opened until he had the gold in his pot,
so it would be to their own profit to use as much diligence as
possible." At this same Diet his Grace related how he first met
Clas, his fool, which story I shall set down here for the reader's
pastime.

This same fool had been nothing but a poor goose-herd; and one day
as he was on the road to Friedrichswald with his flock, my
gracious lord rode up, and growing impatient at the geese running
hither and thither in his path, bid the boy collect them together,
or he would strike them all dead.

Upon which the knave took up goose after goose by the throat, and
stuck them by their long necks into his girdle, till a circle of
geese hung entirely round his body, all dangling by the head from
his waist.

This merry device pleased my lord so much, that he made the lad
court-jester from that day, and many a droll trick he had played
from that to this, particularly when his Highness was gloomy, so
as to make him laugh again. Once, for instance, when the Duke was
sore pressed for money, by reason of the opposition of the states,
he became very sad, and all the doctors were consulted, but could
do nothing. For unless his Grace could be brought to laugh (they
said to the Lady Erdmuth), it was all over with him. Then my
gracious lady had the fool whipped for a stupid jester, who could
not drive his trade; for if he did not make the Duke laugh, why
should he stay at all in the castle?

What did my fool? He collected all the princely soldatesca, and
got leave from their Graces to review them; and surely never were
seen such strange evolutions as he put them through, for they must
do everything he bid them. And when his Highness came forth to
look, he laughed so loud as never had fool made him laugh before;
and calling the Duchess, bid him repeat his _experimentum_
many times for her. In fine, the fool got the good town of
Butterdorf for his fee, which changed its name in honour of him,
and is called Hinzendorf to this day (for his name was Hinze).

But Clas Hinze had not been able to cure my Lord Duke of his
fever, which attacked him at the Diet at Wollin, nor all the
doctors from Stettin, nor even Doctor Pomius, who had been sent
from Wolgast by the old Duchess, to attend her dear son; and as
the doctor (as I have said) was a formal, priggish little man, he
and the fool were always bickering and snarling.

Now, one day at Wollin, the weather being beautiful, his Grace,
with several of the chief prelates, and many of the nobility, went
forth to walk by the river's side, and the fool ran along with
them; _item_, Doctor Pomius, who, if he could not run, at
least tried to walk majestically; and he munched a piece of sugar
all the time, for he never could keep his mouth still a moment.
Seeing his Grace now about to cross the bridge, the doctor started
forward with as much haste as was consistent with his dignity, and
seizing his Highness by the tail of the coat, drew him back,
declaring, "That he must not pass the water; all water would give
strength to the fever-devil." But his Highness, who was talking
Latin to the Deacon of Colberg, turned on the doctor with--"Apage
te asine!" and strode forward, whilst one of the nobles gave a
free translation aloud for the benefit of the others, saying, "And
that means: Begone, thou ass!"

When the fool heard this, he clapped the little man on the back,
shouting, "Well done, ass! and there is thy fee for curing our
gracious Prince of his fever."

This so nettled the doctor that he spat out the lump of sugar for
rage, and tried to seize the fool; but the crowd laughed still
louder when Clas jumped on the back of an old woman, giving her
the spur with his yellow boots in the side, and shaking his head
with the cap and bells at the little doctor in mockery, who could
not get near him for the crowd. So the woman screamed and roared,
and the people laughed, till at last the Duke stopped in the
middle of the bridge to see what was the matter. When the fool
observed this, he sprang off the old woman's back, and calling out
to the doctor--"See how I cure our gracious lord's fever," ran
upon the bridge like wind, and, seizing the Duke with all his
force, jumped with him into the water.

Now the people screamed from horror, as much as before from mirth,
and thirty or forty burghers, along with Marcus Bork, plunged in
to rescue his Highness, whilst others tried to seize the fool,
threatening to tear him in pieces. This was a joyful hearing to
Doctor Pomius. He drew forth his knife--"Would they not finish the
knave at once? Here was a knife just ready."

But the fool, who was strong and supple, swung himself up to the
bridge, and crouched in between the arches, catching hold of the
beams, so that no one dared to touch him there, and his Highness
was soon carried to land. He was in a flaming rage as he shook off
the water.

"Where is that accursed fool? He had only threatened to cut off
his head at Daber, but now it should be done in earnest."

So the fool shouted from under the bridge--"Ho! ho! the courts are
all closed! the courts are all closed!" At which the crowd laughed
so heartily, that my Lord Duke grew still more angry, and
commanded them to bring the fool to him dead or alive.

Hearing this, the fool crept forward of himself, and whimpered in
his Low Dutch, "My good Lord Duke, praise be to God that we've
made the doctor fly. I'll give him a little piece of drink-money
for his journey, and then I'll be your doctor myself. For if the
fright has not cured you, marry, let the deacon be your fool, and
I will be your deacon as long as I live."

However, my gracious lord was in no humour for fun, but bid them
carry off the fool to prison, and lock him up there; for though,
indeed, the fever had really quite gone, as his Highness perceived
to his joy, yet he was resolved to give the fool a right good
fright in return.

Therefore, on the third day from that, he commanded him to be
brought out and beheaded on the scaffold at Wollin. He wore a
white shroud, bordered with black gauze, over his motley jacket,
and a priest and melancholy music accompanied him all the way; but
Master Hansen had directions that, when the fool was seated in the
chair with his eyes bound, he should strike the said fool on the
neck with a sausage in place of the sword.

However, no one suspected this, and a great crowd followed the
poor fool up to the scaffold; even Doctor Pomius was there, and
kept close up to the condemned. As the fool passed the ducal
house, there was my lord seated at a window looking out, and the
fool looked up, saying, "My gracious master, is this a fool's jest
you are playing me, or is it earnest?"

To which the Duke answered, "You see it is earnest."

Then answered the fool, "Well, if I must, I must; yet I crave one
boon!"

When the promise was granted, the knave, who could not give up his
jesting even on the death-road, said, "Then make Doctor Pomius
herewith to be fool in my place, for look how he is learning all
my tricks from me--sticking himself close up to my side."

Hereat a great shout of laughter pealed from the crowd, and the
Duke motioned with the hand to proceed to the scaffold.

Still the poor fool kept looking round every moment, thinking his
Grace would send a message after them to stop the execution, but
no one appeared. Then his teeth chattered, and he trembled like an
aspen leaf; for Master Hansen seized hold of him now, and put him
down upon the chair, and bound his eyes. Still he asked, with his
eyes bound, "Master, is any one coming?"

"No!" replied the executioner; and throwing back his red cloak,
drew forth a large sausage in place of a sword, to the great
amusement of the people. With this he strikes my fool on the neck,
who thereupon tumbles down from the stool, as stone dead from the
mere fright as if his head and body had parted company--yea, more
dead, for never a finger or a muscle did the poor fool move more.

This sad ending moved his Grace even to tears; and he fell into a
yet greater melancholy than before, crying, "Woe! alas! He gave me
my life through fright, and through fright I have taken away his
poor life! Ah, never shall I meet with so good and merry a fool
again!"

Then he gave command to all the physicians to try and restore him,
and he himself stood by while they bled him and felt his pulse,
but all was in vain; even Doctor Pomius tried his skill, but
nothing would help, so that my lord cried out angrily--

"Marry, the fool was right. The fools should be doctors, for the
doctors are all fools. Away with ye all, and your gibberish, to
the devil!"

After this he had the said fool placed in a handsome black coffin,
and conveyed to his own town of Hinzendorf, there to be buried;
and over his grave my lord erected a stately monument, on which
was represented the poor fool, as large as life, with his cap and
bells, and staff in his hand; and round his waist was a girdle,
from which many geese dangled, all cut like life, while at his
side lay his shepherd's bag, and at his feet a beer-can. The
figure is five feet two inches long, and bears a Latin inscription
above it, which I forget; but the initials G. H. are carved upon
each cheek. [Footnote: His original name was Gürgen Hinze, not
Clas. The Latin inscription is nearly effaced, but the beginning
is still visible, and runs thus: "Caput ecce manus gestus que;"
from which Oelrichs concludes that the whole was written in
hexameters. (See his estimable work, "Memoirs of the Pomeranian
Dukes," p. 41.)]

Shortly after the death of the fool a messenger arrived from
Saatzig to Marcus Bork, bringing him the joyful tidings that the
Lord God had granted him the blessing of a little son. So he is
away to my Lord Duke, to solicit permission to leave the Diet and
return to his castle. This the Duke readily granted, seeing that
he himself was going away to attend the funeral of the poor fool
at Hinzendorf. Then he wished Marcus joy with all his heart, which
so emboldened the knight that he ventured to make one more effort
about the opening of the courts, praying his Grace to put faith in
the word of his faithful states, and open the courts and the
treasury without further delay.

But his Grace is wroth: "What should he be troubled for? The
states could give the money when they chose, and then all would be
right. Let the nobles do their duty. He never saw a penny come out
of their pockets for their Prince."

"But his Highness knew the poor peasants were all beggared; and
where could the nobles get the money?"

"Let them go to their saving-pots, then, where the money was
turning green from age; better for them if they had less avarice.
Why did not he himself bring him some gold, in place of dressing
up his wife in silks and jewels, finer than the Princess Erdmuth
herself, his own princely spouse? Then, indeed, the courts might
be soon opened," &c. So the sorrowing knight took his leave, and
each went his different way.






CHAPTER XVI.

_How Sidonia makes poor Clara appear quite dead, and of the
great mourning at Saatzig over her burial, while Sidonia dances on
her coffin and sings the 109th psalm--Item, of the sermon and the
anathema pronounced upon a wicked sinner from the altar of the
church._


I must first state that this horrible wickedness of Sidonia, which
no eye had seen nor ear heard, neither had it entered into the
heart of man to conceive (for only in hell could such have been
imagined), never would have come to light but that she herself
made confession thereof to Dr. Cramero, thy well-beloved
godfather, in her last trial. And he, to show how far Satan can
lead a poor human creature who has once fallen from God, related
the same to my worthy father-in-law, Master David Reutzio, some
time superintendent at the criminal court, from whose own lips I
received the story.

And this was her confession:--That when the messenger returned
from Daber with the broth, he had ridden so fast that it was
still, in truth, quite hot, but she (the horrible Sidonia), who
was standing at the bed of the young mother, along with the other
women, pretended that it was too cold for a woman in her state,
and must just get one little heating on the fire.

The poor Clara, indeed, showed unwillingness to permit this, but
she ran down with it, and secretly, without being seen by any of
the other women, poured in a philtrum that had been given her by
the gipsy hag, and then went back again for a moment. This
philtrum was the one which produced all the appearance of death.
It had no taste, except, perhaps, that it was a little saltish.
Therefore Clara perceived nothing wrong, only when she tasted it,
said, "My heart's dearest mother, in her joy, has put a little too
much salt into her broth; still, what a heart's dearest mother
sends, must always taste good!" However, in one hour after that,
Clara lay as stiff and cold as a corpse, only her breath came a
little; but even this ceased in a short time, and then a great cry
and lamentation resounded through the whole castle. No one
suspected Sidonia, for many said that young women died so often;
but even the old mother, who arrived a few hours after, and
hearing the cries from the castle while she was yet far off, began
to weep likewise; for her mother's heart revealed the cause to her
ere she had yet descended from the carriage.

But it was a sadder sight next evening, when the husband arrived
at the castle from Wollin. He could not take his eyes from the
corpse. One while he kissed the infant, then fixed his eyes again
upon his dead wife, and sighed and groaned as if he lay upon the
rack. He alone suspected Sidonia, but when she cried more than
they all, and wrung her hands, exclaiming, who would have pity on
her now, for her best friend lay there dead! and flung herself
upon the seeming corpse, kissing it and bedewing it with her
tears, and praying to have leave to watch all night beside it, for
how could she sleep in her sore grief and sorrow? the knight was
ashamed of his suspicions, and even tried to comfort her himself.

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