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Sidonia The Sorceress V1

W >> William Mienhold >> Sidonia The Sorceress V1




Then came the physicians out of Stargard and other places, who had
been summoned in all haste, and they gabbled away, saying, "It
could not have been the broth, but puerperal fever." This at least
was Dr. Hamster's opinion, who knew all along it would be a bad
case. Indeed, the last time he was at the castle visiting the
mower's wife, he was frightened at the look of the poor lady.
Still, if they had only sent for him in time, this great evil
could not have happened, for his _pulvis antispasmodicus_ was
never known to fail; and so he went on chattering, by which one
can see that doctors have always been the same from that time even
till now.

_Summa_.--On the third day the poor Clara was laid in her
coffin, and carried to her grave, with such weeping and
lamentation of the mourners and bearers as never had been heard
till then. And all the nobles of the vicinage, with the knights
and gentlemen, came to attend her funeral at Saatzig Cathedral,
for she was to be buried in this new church just finished by his
Grace Duke Johann, and but one corpse had been laid in the vaults
before her. [Footnote: The beautifully painted escutcheon of Duke
Johann and his wife, Erdmuth of Brandenburg, is still to be seen
on the chancel windows of this stately staircase.]

But what does the devil's sorceress do now? She knew that the poor
Clara would awake the next day (which was Sunday) about noon, and
if any should hear her cries, her plans would be detected.
Therefore, about ten of the clock she ran to Marcus, with her hair
all flowing down her shoulders, saying, that he must let her away
that very day to Zachow, for what would the world say if she, a
young unmarried thing, should remain here all alone with him in
his castle? No; sooner would she swallow the bitter cup her father
had left her than peril her name. But first, would he allow her to
go and pray alone in the church? Surely he would not deny her
this.

Thereupon the simple knight gave her instant leave--"Let her go
and pray, in God's name. He himself would soon be there to hear
the Reverend Dr. Wudargensis preach the funeral sermon over his
heart's dear wife. And after service he would desire a carriage to
be in readiness to convey her to Zachow."

Then he called to the warder from the window, bidding him let
Sidonia pass. So she went forth in deep mourning garments, glided
through the castle gardens, and concealing herself by the trees,
slipped into the church without any one having perceived her; for
the sexton had left the door open to admit fresh air, on account
of the corpse. Then she stepped over to the little grated door
near the altar, which led down into the vault, and softly lifting
it, stepped down, drawing the door down again close over her head.
Clara's coffin was lying beneath, and first she laid her ear on it
and listened, but all was quite still within. Then removing the
pall, she sat herself down upon the lid. Time passed, and still no
sound. The sexton began to ring the bell, and the people were
assembling in the church above. Soon the hymn commenced, "Now in
peace the loved one sleepeth," and ere the first verse had ended,
a knocking was heard in the coffin, then a cry--"Where am I? What
brought me here? Let me out, for God's sake let me out! I am not
dead. Where is my child? Where is my good Marcus? Ah! there is
some one near me. Who is it? Let me out! let me out!" Then (oh!
horror of horrors!) the devil's harlot on her coffin answered, "It
is I, Sidonia! this pays thee for acting the spy at Wolgast. Lie
there and writhe till thou art stifled in thy blood!" Now the
voice came again from the coffin, praying and beseeching, so that
many times it went through her stony heart like a sword. And just
then the first verse of the hymn ended, and the voice of the
priest was heard asking the lord governor whether they should go
and sing the remainder over the vault of his dear spouse, for it
was indeed sung in her honour, seeing she had been ever a mother
to the orphan, and a holy, pious, and Christian wife; or, since
the people all knew her worth, and mourned for her with bitter
mourning, should they sing it here in the nave, that the whole
congregation might join in chorus? [Footnote: These interruptions
were by no means unusual at that period.]

To this the governor, in a loud yet mournful voice, gave answer--

"Alas, good friends, do what you will in this sad case; I am
content."

But Sidonia, this devil's witch, was in a horrible fright, lest
the priest would come up to the altar to sing the hymn, and so
hear the knocking within the coffin. However, the devil protects
his own, for, at that instant, many voices called out--

"Let the hymn be sung here, that we may all join to the honour of
the blessed soul of the good lady."

And mournfully the second verse was heard pealing through the
church, from the lips of the whole congregation, so that poor
Clara's groans were quite smothered. For, when the voice of her
dear husband reached her ear, she had knocked and cried out with
all her strength--

"Marcus! Marcus! Alas, dear Lord, will you not come to me!" Then
again--"Sidonia, by the Jesu cross, I pray thee have pity on me.
Save me--save me--I am stifling. Oh, run for some one, if thou
canst not lift the lid thyself!"

But the devil made answer to the poor living corpse--

"Dost thou take me for a silly fool like thyself, that I should
now undo all I have done?"

And as the voice went on from the coffin, but feebler and
fainter--

"Think on my husband--on my child, Sidonia!"

She answered--

"Didst thou think of that when, but for thee, I might have been a
Duchess of Pomerania, and the proud mother of a prince, in place
of being as I now am."

Then all became still within the coffin, and Sidonia sprang upon
it and danced, chanting the 109th psalm; [Footnote: Superstition
has found many sinful usages for this psalm. The Jews, for
example, took a new vessel, poured a mixture of mustard and water
therein, and after repeating this psalm over it for three
consecutive days, poured it out before the door of their enemy, as
a certain means to ensure his destruction. In the middle ages
monks and nuns were frequently obliged to repeat it in
superstitious ceremonies, at the command of some powerful
revengeful man. And that its efficacy was Considered as something
miraculously powerful, even by the evangelical Church, is proved
by this example of Sidonia, who made frequent use of this terrible
psalm in her sorceries, as any one may see by referring to the
records of the trial in Dähnert. And other interesting examples
are found in the treatise of Job. Andreas Schmidii, _Abusus
Psalmi 109 imprecatorii_; vulgo, _The Death Prayer_,
Helmstadt, 1708.] and as she came to the words, "Let none show
mercy to him; let none have pity on his orphans; let his posterity
be cut off and his name be blotted out," there was a loud knocking
again within the coffin, and a faint, stifled cry--"I am dying!"
then followed a gurgling sound, and all became still. At that
moment the congregation above raised the last verse of the hymn:--

"In the grave, with bitter weeping,
Loving hands have laid her down;
There she resteth, calmly sleeping,
Till an angel lifts the stone."

But the sermon which now followed she remembered her life long. It
was on the tears, the soft tears of our Lord and Saviour Jesus
Christ. And as her spirit became oppressed by the silence in the
vault, now that all was still within the coffin, she lifted the
lid after the exordium, to see if Clara were indeed quite dead.

It was an easy matter to remove the cover, for the screws were not
fastened; but--O God! what has she beheld? A sight that will never
more leave her brain! The poor corpse lay all torn and disfigured
from the writhings in the coffin, and a blood-vessel must have
burst at last to relieve her from her agony, for the blood lay yet
warm on the hands as she lifted the cover. But more horrible than
all were the fixed glassy eyes of the corpse, staring immovably
upon her, from which clear tears were yet flowing, and blending
with the blood upon the cheek; and, as if the priest above had
known what was passing beneath, he exclaimed--

"Oh, let us moisten our couch with tears; let tears be our meat
day and night. They are noble tears that do not fall to earth, but
ascend up to God's throne. Yea, the Lord gathers them in His
vials, like costly wine. They are noble tears, for if they fill
the eyes of God's chosen in this life, yet, in that other world,
the Lord Jesus will wipe away tears from off all faces, as the dew
is dried by the morning sun. Oh, wondrous beauty of those eyes
which are dried by the Lord Jesus! Oh, blessed eyes! Oh, sun-clear
eyes! Oh, joyful and ever-smiling eyes!"

She heard no more, but felt the eyes of the corpse were upon her,
and fell down like one dead beside the coffin; and Clara's eyes
and the sermon never left her brain from that day, and often have
they risen before her in dreams.

But the Holy Spirit had yet a greater torment in store for her, if
that were possible.

For, after the sermon, a consistorium was held in the church upon
a grievous sinner named Trina Wolken, who, it appeared, had many
times done penance for her unchaste life, but had in no wise
amended. And she heard the priest asking, "Who accuseth this
woman?" To which, after a short silence, a deep, small voice
responded--

"I accuse her; for I detected her in sin, and though I besought
her with Christian words to turn from her evil ways, and that I
would save her from public shame if she would so turn, yet she
gave herself up wholly to the devil, and out of revenge bewitched
my best sheep, so that it died the very day after it had brought
forth a lamb. Alas! what will become of the poor lamb? And it was
such a beautiful little lamb!"

When Marcus Bork heard this, he began to sob aloud; and each word
seemed to run like a sharp dagger through Sidonia's heart, so that
she bitterly repented her evil deeds. And all the congregation
broke out into loud weeping, and even the priest continued, in a
broken voice, to ask the sinner what she had to say to this
terrible accusation.

Upon which a woman's voice was heard swearing that all was a
malignant lie, for her accuser was a shameless liar and open
sinner, who wished to ruin her because she had refused his son.

Then the priest commanded the witnesses to be called, not only to
prove the unchastity, but also the witchcraft. And after this, she
was asked if she could make good the loss of the sheep? No; she
had no money. And the people testified also that the harlot had
nothing but her shame. Thereupon the priest rose up, and said--

"That she had long been notorious in the Christian communion for
her wicked life, and that all her penance and repentance having
proved but falsehood and deceit, he was commissioned by the
honourable consistorium to pronounce upon her the solemn curse and
sentence of excommunication. For she had this day been convicted
of strange and terrible crimes, on the testimony of competent
witnesses. Therefore he called upon the whole Christian
congregation to stand up and listen to the words of the anathema,
by which he gave over Trina Wolken to the devil, in the name of
the Almighty God."

And as he spoke the curse, it fell word by word upon the head of
Sidonia, as if he were indeed pronouncing it over herself--

"Dear Christian Friends,--Because Trina Wolken hath broken her
baptismal vows, and given herself over to the devil, to work all
uncleanness with greediness; and though divers times admonished to
repentance by the Church, yet hath stiffened her neck in
corruption, and hardened her heart in unrighteousness, therefore
we herewith place the said Trina Wolken under the ban of the
excommunication. Henceforth she is a thing accursed--cast off from
the communion of the Church, and participation in the holy
sacraments. Henceforth she is given up to Satan for this life and
the next, unless the blessed Saviour reach forth His hand to her
as He did to the sinking Peter, for all things are possible with
God. And this we do by the power of the keys granted by Christ to
His Church, to bind and loose on earth as in heaven, in the name
of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

And now Sidonia heard distinctly the screams of the wretched
sinner, as she was hunted out of the church, and all the
congregation followed soon after, and then all was still above.

Now, indeed, terror took such hold of her that she trembled like
an aspen leaf, and the lid fell many times from her hand with
great clatter on the ground, as she tried to replace it on the
coffin. For she had closed her eyes, for fear of meeting the
ghastly stare of the corpse again. At last she got it up, and the
corpse was covered; but she would not stay to replace the screws,
only hastened out of the vault, closing the little grated door
after her, reached the church door, which had no lock, but only a
latch, and plunged into the castle gardens to hide herself amongst
the trees.

Here she remained crouched for some hours, trying to recover her
self-possession; and when she found that she could weep as well as
ever when it pleased her, she set off for the castle, and met her
cousin Marcus with loud weeping and lamentations, entreating him
to let her go that instant to Zachow. Eat and drink could she not
from grief, though she had eaten nothing the whole morning. So the
mournful knight, who had himself risen from the table without
eating, to hasten to his little motherless lamb, asked her where
she had passed the morning, for he had not seen her in the church?
To which she answered, that she had sunk down almost dead on the
altar-steps; and, as he seemed to doubt her, she repeated part of
the sermon, and spoke of the curse pronounced upon the girl, and
told how she had remained behind in the church, to weep and pray
alone. Upon which he exclaimed joyfully--

"Now, I thank God that my blessed spouse counselled me to take
thee home with us. Ah! I see that thou hast indeed repented of thy
sins. Go thy ways, then; and, with God's help, thou shalt never
want a true and faithful friend while I live."

He bid her also take all his blessed wife's wardrobe with her,
amongst which was a brocaded damask with citron flowers, which she
had only got a year before; _item_, her shoes and kerchiefs:
_summa_, all that she had worn, he wished never to see them
again. And so she went away in haste from the castle, after having
given a farewell kiss to the little motherless lamb. For though
the evil spirit Chim, which she carried under her mantle,
whispered to her to give the little bastard a squeeze that would
make him follow his mother, or to let him do so, she would not
consent, but pinched him for his advice till he squalled, though
Marcus certainly could not have heard him, for he was attending
Sidonia to the coach; but then the good knight was so absorbed in
grief that he had neither ears nor eyes for anything.




CHAPTER XVII.

_How Sidonia is chased by the wolves to Rehewinkel, and finds
Johann Appelmann again in the inn, with whom she goes away a
second time by night._


When Sidonia left Saatzig, the day was far advanced, so that the
good knight recommended her to stop at Daber that night with his
blessed wife's mourning parents, and, for this purpose, sent a
letter by her to them. Also he gave a fine one-year-old foal in
charge to the coachman, who tied it to the side of the carriage;
and Marcus bid him deliver it up safely to the pastor of
Rehewinkel, his good friend, for he had only been keeping the
young thing at grass for him, and the pastor now wished it
back--they must therefore go by Rehewinkel. So they drove away;
but many strange things happened by reason of this same foal; for
it was so restive and impatient at being tied, that many times
they had to stop and quiet it, lest the poor beast might get hurt
by the wheel.

This so delayed their journey, that evening came on before they
were out of the forest; and as the sun went down, the wolves began
to appear in every direction. Finally, a pack of ten or twelve
pursued the carriage; and though the coach-man whipped his horses
with might and main, still the wolves gained on them, and stared
up in their faces, licking their jaws with their red tongues. Some
even were daring enough to spring up behind the carriage, but
finding nothing but trunks, had to tumble down again.

This so terrified Sidonia that she screamed and shrieked, and,
drawing forth a knife, cut the cords that bound the foal, which
instantly galloped away, and the wolves after it. How the carl
drove now, thinking to get help in time to save the poor foal! but
not so. The poor beast, in its terror, galloped into the town of
Rehewinkel; and as the paddock is closed, it springs into the
churchyard, the wolves after it, and runs into the belfry-tower,
the door of which is lying open--the wolves rush in too, and there
they tear the poor animal to pieces, before the pastor could
collect peasants enough to try and save it.

Meanwhile Sidonia has reached the town likewise; and as there is a
great uproar, some of the peasants crowding into the churchyard,
others setting off full chase after the wolves, which had taken
the road to Freienwald, Sidonia did not choose to move on (for she
must have travelled that very road), but desired the coachman to
drive up to the inn; and as she entered, lo! there sat my knave,
with two companions, at a table, drinking. Up he jumps, and seizes
Sidonia to kiss her, but she pushed him away. "Let him not attempt
to come near her. She had done with such low fellows."

So the knave feigned great sorrow--"Alas! had she quite forgotten
him--and he treasured her memory so in his heart! Where had she
come from? He saw a great many trunks and bags on the carriage.
What had she in them?"

_Illa_.--"Ah! he would, no doubt, like to get hold of them;
but she would take care and inform the people what sort of robber
carls they had now in the house. She came from Saatzig, and was
going to Daber; for as old Dewitz had lost his daughter, he
intended to adopt her in the place of one. Therefore let him not
attempt to approach her, for she was now, more than ever, a castle
and land dowered maiden, and from such a low burgher carl as he
was, would cross and bless herself."

But my knave knew her well; so he answered--"Woe is me, Sidonia!
do not grieve me by such words; for know that I have given up my
old free courses of which you talk; and my father is so pleased
with my present mode of life, that he has promised to give me my
heritage, and even this very night I am to receive it at
Bruchhausen, and am on my way there, as you see. Truly I meant to
purchase some land in Poland with the money, and then search
throughout all places for you, that we might be wedded like pious
Christians. Alas! I thought to have sold your poor cabins at
Zachow, and brought you home to my castle in Poland; but for all
my love you only give me this proud answer!"

Now Sidonia scarcely believed the knave; so she called one of his
comrades aside, and asked him was it true, and where they came
from. Upon which he confirmed all that Johann had said--"The devil
had dispersed the whole band, so that only two were left with the
captain--himself and Konnemann; and they came from Nörenburg,
where the master had been striking a bargain with Elias von Wedel,
for a town in Poland. The town was called Lembrowo, and there was
a stately castle there, as grand almost as the castle of old
Dewitz at Daber. They were going this very night to Bruchhausen,
to get gold from the old stiff-neck of Stargard, so that the
bargain might be concluded next day."

This was a pleasant hearing for Sidonia. She became more friendly,
and said, "He could not blame her for doubting him, as he had
deceived her so often; still it was wonderful how her heart clung
to him through all. Where had he been so long? and what had
happened since they parted?"

Hereupon he answered, "That he could not speak while the people
were all going to and fro in the inn; but if she came out with him
(as the night was fine), they could walk down to the river-side,
and he would tell her all."

_Summa_.--She went with him, and they sat down upon the green
grass to discourse, never knowing that the pastor of Rehewinkel
was hid behind the next tree; for he had gone forth to lament over
the loss of his poor foal, and sat there weeping bitterly. He had
got it home to sell, that he might buy a warm coat for the winter,
which now he cannot do; therefore the old man had gone forth
mournfully into the clear night, thrown himself down, and wept.

By this chance he heard the whole story from my knave, and related
it afterwards to the old burgomaster in Stargard. It was as
follows:--

Some time after his flight from Daber, a friend from Stettin told
him that Dinnies von Kleist (the same who had spoiled their work
in the Uckermund forest) had got a great sum of gold in his
knapsack, and was off to his castle at Dame, [Footnote: A town
near Polzin, in Lower Pomerania, and an ancient feudal hold of the
Kleists.] while the rest were feasting at Daber. This sum he had
won by a wager from the Princes of Saxony, Brandenburg, and
Mecklenburg. For he had bet, at table, that he would carry five
casks of Italian wine at once, and without help, up from the
cellar to the dining-hall, in the castle of Old Stettin. Duke
Johann refused the bet, knowing his man well, but the others took
it up; upon which, after grace, the whole noble company stood up
and accompanied him to the cellar. Here Dinnies took up a cask
under each arm, another in each hand by the plugs, and a fifth
between his teeth by the plug also; thus laden, he carried the
five casks up every step from the cellar to the dining-hall. So
the money was paid to him, as the lacqueys witnessed, and having
put the same in his knapsack, he set off for his castle at Dame,
to give it to his father. And the knave went on--"After I heard
this news from my good friend, I resolved to set off for Dame and
revenge myself on this strong ox, burn his castle, and take his
gold. The band agreed; but woe, alas! there was one traitor
amongst them. The fellow was called Kaff, and I might well have
suspected him; for latterly I observed that when we were about any
business, particularly church-robbing, he tried to be off, and
asked to be left to keep the watch. Divers nights, too, as I
passed him, there was the carl praying; and so I ought to have
dismissed the coward knave at once, or he would have had half the
band praying likewise before long.

"In short, this arrant villain slips off at night from his post,
just as we had all set ourselves down before the castle, waiting
for the darkest hour of midnight to attack the foxes in their den,
and betrays the whole business to Kleist himself, telling him the
strength of the band, and how and when we were to attack him, with
all other particulars. Whereupon a great lamentation was heard in
the castle, and old Kleist, a little white-headed man, wrung his
hands, and seemed ready to go mad with fear; for half the
retainers were at the annual fair, others far away at the
coal-mines, and finally, they could scarcely muster in all ten
fighting men. Besides this, the castle fosse was filled with
rubbish, though the old man had been bidding his sons, for the
last year, to get it cleared, but they never minded him, the idle
knaves. All this troubled stout Dinnies mightily; and as he walked
up and down the hall, his eyes often rested on a painting which
represented the devil cutting off the head of a gambler, and
flying with it out of the window.

"Again and again he looked at the picture, then called out for a
hound, stuck him under his arm, and cut off his head, as if it had
been only a dove; then he called for a calf from the stall, put it
under his arm likewise, and cut off the head. Then he asked for
the mask which represented the devil, and which he had got from
Stettin to frighten his dissolute brothers, when they caroused too
late over their cups. The young Johann, indeed, had sometimes
dropped the wine-flask by reason of it, but Detloff still ran
after the young maidens as much as ever, though even he had got
such a fright that there was hope for his poor soul yet. So the
mask was brought, and all the proper disguise to play the
devil--namely, a yellow jerkin slashed with black, a red mantle,
and a large wooden horse's foot.

"When Dinnies beheld all this, and the man who played the devil
instructed him how to put them on, he rejoiced greatly, and
declared that now he alone could save the castle. I knew nothing
of all this at the time," said Johann, "nor of the treason,
neither did the band. We were all seated under a shed in the wood,
that had been built for the young deer in the winter time, and had
stuck a lantern against the wall while we gamed and drank, and our
provider poured us out large mugs of the best beer, when, just at
midnight, we heard a report like a clap of thunder outside, so
that the earth shook under us (it was no thunder-clap, however,
but an explosion of powder, which the traitor had laid down all
round the shed, for we found the trace of it next day).

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