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Sidonia The Sorceress V1

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Here Sidonia grew quite indignant--what could she know of a vile
witch-wench? Besides, she had not been ten minutes there in the
room.

"But perchance the bird has found herself a nest somewhere," said
Clara, looking towards the bed; "methinks, indeed, I see some of
the feathers, for surely a red gown never trembled that way under
a bed unless there was something living inside of it." When the
witch-girl heard this her fright increased, so that, to make
matters worse, she pulled her gown in under the bed, upon which
Clara kneeled down, lifted the coverlet, and found the owl in its
nest. Now she had to creep out weeping and howling, and promised
to tell everything.

But Sidonia gave her a look which she understood well, and
therefore when she stood up straight by the bed, begged piteously
that the Lady Clara would not scold her for having tried to
escape, because she herself had threatened her with being burned
there as well as at Daber, so not knowing where to hide, and
seeing the Lady Sidonia's door open, she crept in there and got
under the bed, intending to wait till night came and then ask her
aid in effecting her flight, for the Lady Sidonia was the only one
in the castle who had shown her Christian compassion.

Hereat Sidonia rose up as if in great rage, and said, "Ha! thou
impudent wench, how darest thou reckon on my protection!" and
seizing her by the hand--in which, however, she pressed a piece of
gold--pushed her violently out of the door.

Now Clara, thinking that this was the whole truth, fell weeping
upon Sidonia's neck, and asked forgiveness for her suspicions.
"There, that will do," said Sidonia,--"that will do, old preacher;
only be more cautious in future. What! am I to poke under my bed
to see if any one is hiding there? You may go, for I suppose you
have often hidden a lover there, your eyes turn to it so
naturally."

As Clara grew red with shame, Sidonia drew the witch-girl again
into the room, and giving her a box on the ear that made her teeth
chatter--"Now, confess," said she, "what I said to the young lord
without knowing that you were listening." So the poor girl
answered weeping, "Nothing but what was good did you say to him,
namely, that he should go away; and then you pushed him so
violently when he attempted to kiss you, that he stumbled over
against the bed."

"See, now, my pious preacher," said Sidonia, "this girl confirms
exactly what I told you; so now go along with you, you hussy, or
mayhap you will come off no better than she has done."

Hereupon Clara went away humbly with the witch-girl to her own
room, and never uttered another word. Nevertheless the affair did
not seem quite satisfactory to her yet. So she conferred with her
betrothed, Marcus Bork, on the subject. For when he carried books
for her Highness from the ducal library, it was his custom to
scrape with his feet in a peculiar manner as he passed Clara's
door; then she knew who it was, and opened it. And as her maid was
present, they conversed together in the Italian tongue; for they
were both learned, not only in God's Word, but in all other
knowledge, so that people talk about them yet in Pomeranian land
for these things.

Clara therefore told him the whole affair in Italian, before her
maid and the witch-girl--of the visit of the young Prince, and how
the girl was lying hid under the bed, and asked him was it not
likely that Sidonia had brought her there to teach her how to brew
the love-drink, with which she would then have bewitched the
Prince and all the men-folk in the castle, and ought she not to
warn her Grace of the danger.

But Marcus answered, that if the witch-girl had been at the castle
weeks before, he might have supposed that Sidonia had received the
secret of the love-potion from her, since every man, old and
young, was mad for love of her--but now he must needs confess that
Sidonia's eyes and deceiving mouth were magic sufficient; and that
it was not likely she would bring a vile damsel to her room to
teach her that which she knew already so perfectly. So he thought
it better not to tell her Highness anything on the subject.
Besides, if the wench were examined, who knows what she might tell
of Sidonia and the young lord that would bring shame on the
princely house of Wolgast, since she had been hid under the bed
all the time, and perhaps only kept silence through fear. It were
well therefore on every account not to let the matter get wind,
and to shut up the wench safely in the witches' tower until the
answer came from Daber. If she were pronounced really guilty, it
would then be time enough to question her on the rack about the
love-drink and the conversation between the young lord and
Sidonia.

So this course was agreed on. It is, however, much to be regretted
that Clara did not follow the promptings of her good angel, and
tell all to her Grace and old Ulrich; for then much misfortune and
scandal would have been spared to the whole Pomeranian land. But
she followed her bride-groom's advice, and kept all secret. The
witch-girl, however, was locked up that very day in the witches'
tower, to guard against future evil.




CHAPTER XI.

_How Sidonia repeated the catechism of Dr. Gerschovius, and how
she whipped the young Casimir, out of pure evil-mindedness._


The Sunday came at last when Sidonia was to be examined publicly
in the catechism of Dr. Gerschovius. Her Grace was filled with
anxiety to see how all would terminate, for every one suspected
(as indeed was the case) that not one word of it would she be able
to repeat. So the church was crowded, and all the young men
attended without exception, knowing what was to go forward, and
fearing for Sidonia, because this Dr. Gerschovius was a stern,
harsh man; but she herself seemed to care little about the matter,
for she entered her Grace's closet as usual (which was right
opposite the pulpit), and threw herself carelessly into a corner.
However, when the doctor entered the pulpit she became more grave,
and finally, when his discourse was drawing near to the close, she
rose up quietly and glided out of the closet, intending to descend
to the gardens. Her Grace did not perceive her movement, in
consequence of the hat with the heron's plume which she wore, for
the feathers drooped down at the side next Sidonia, and the other
ladies were too much alarmed to venture to draw her attention to
the circumstance. But the priest from the pulpit saw her well, and
called out--"Maiden! maiden! Whither go you? Remember ye have to
repeat your catechism!"

Then Sidonia grew quite pale, for her Grace and all the
congregation fixed their eyes on her. So when she felt quite
conscious that she was looking pale, she said, "You see from my
face that I am not well; but if I get better, doubt not but that I
shall return immediately." Here all the maids of honour put up
their kerchiefs to hide their laughter, and the young nobles did
the same.

So she went away; but they might wait long enough, I think, for
her to come back. In vain her Grace watched until the priest left
the pulpit, and then sent two of her ladies to look for the
hypocrite; but they returned declaring that she was nowhere to be
seen.

_Summa_.--The whole service was ended, and her Grace looked
as angry as the doctor; and when the organ had ceased, and the
people were beginning to depart, she called out from her closet--

"Let every one come this way, and accompany me to Sidonia's
apartment. There I shall make her repeat the catechism before ye
all. Messengers shall be despatched in all directions until they
find out her hiding-place."

This pleased the doctor and Ulrich well. So they all proceeded to
Sidonia's little room; for there she was, to their great surprise,
seated upon a chair with a smelling-bottle in her hand. Whereupon
her Grace demanded what ailed her, and why she had not stayed to
repeat the catechism.

_Illa_.--"Ah! she was so weak, she would certainly have
fainted, if she had not descended to the garden for a little fresh
air. She was so distressed that her Grace had been troubled
sending for her, of which she was not aware until now."

"Are you better now?" asked her Grace.

_Illa_.--"Rather better. The fresh air had done her good."

"Then," quoth her Grace, "you shall recite the catechism here for
the doctor; for, in truth, Christianity is as necessary to you as
water to a fish."

The doctor now cleared his throat to begin; but she stopped him
pertly, saying--

"I do not choose to say my catechism here in my room, like a
little child. Grown-up maidens are always heard in the church."

Howbeit, her Grace motioned to him not to heed her. So to his
first question she replied rather snappishly, "You have your
answer already."

No wonder the priest grew black with rage. But seeing a book lying
open on a little table beside her bed, and thinking it was the
catechism of Dr. Gerschovius which she had been studying, he
stepped over to look. But judge his horror when he found that it
was a volume of the _Amadis de Gaul_, and was lying open at
the eighth chapter, where he read--"How the Prince Amadis de Gaul
loved the Princess Rosaliana, and was beloved in return, and how
they both attained to the accomplishment of their desires."

He dashed the book to the ground furiously, stamped upon it, and
cried--

"So, thou wanton, this is thy Bible and thy catechism! Here thou
learnest how to make young men mad! Who gave thee this infamous
book? Speak! Who gave it to thee?"

So Sidonia looked up timidly, and said, weeping, "It was his
Highness Duke Barnim who gave it to her, and told her it was a
merry book, and good against low spirits."

Here the Duchess, who had lifted up her hand to give her a box on
the ear, let it fall again with a deep sigh when she heard of the
old Prince having given her such an infamous book, and lamented
loudly, crying--

"Who will free me from this shameless wanton, who makes all the
court mad? Truly says Scripture, 'A beautiful woman without
discretion is like a circlet of gold upon a swine's head.' Ah! I
know that now. But I trust my messengers will soon return whom I
have despatched to Stettin and Stramehl, and then I shall get rid
of thee, thou wanton, for which God be thanked for evermore."

Then she turned to leave the room with old Ulrich, who only shook
his head, but remained as mute as a fish. Doctor Gerschovius,
however, stayed behind with Sidonia, in order to exhort her to
virtue; but as she only wept and did not seem to hear him, he grew
tired, and finally went his way, also with many sighs and
uplifting of his hands.

A little after, as Sidonia was howling just out of pure
ill-temper, for, in my opinion, nothing ailed her, the little
Prince Casimir ran in to look for his mamma--she had gone to hear
Sidonia her catechism, they told him.

"What did he want with his lady mamma?"

"His new jerkin hurt him, he wanted her to tie it another way for
him; but is it really true, Sidonia, that you do not know your
catechism? I can say it quite well. Just come now and hear me say
it."

It is probable that her Grace and the doctor had devised this plan
in order to shame Sidonia, by showing her how even a little child
could repeat it; but she took it angrily, and, calling him over,
said, "Yes; come--I will hear you your catechism." And as the
little boy came up close beside her, she slung him across her
knee, pulled down his hose, and--oh, shame!--whipped his Serene
Highness upon his princely _podex_, that it would have melted
the heart of a stone. How this shows her cruel and evil
disposition--to revenge on the child what she had to bear from the
mother. Fie on the maiden!

And here my gracious Prince will say--"O Theodore, this matter
surely might have been passed over, since it brings a disrespect
upon my princely house."

I answer--"Gracious Lord and Prince, my most humble services are
due to your Grace, but truth must be still truth, however it may
displease your Highness. Besides, by no other act could I have so
well proved the infernal evil in this woman's nature; for if she
could dare to lay her godless hand upon one of your illustrious
race, then all her future acts are perfectly comprehensible.
[Footnote: Note by Duke Bogislaff XIV.--This is true, and
therefore I consent to let it remain; and I remember that Prince
Casimir told me long afterwards that the scene remained indelibly
impressed on his memory. "For," he said, "the wild eyes and the
terrible voice of the witch frightened me more even than her cruel
hand; as if even there I detected the devil in her, though I was
but a little boy at the time."] When the malicious wretch let the
boy go, he darted out of the room and ran down the whole corridor,
screaming out that he would tell his mamma about Sidonia; but
Zitsewitz met him, and having heard the story, the amorous old
fool took him up in his arms, and promised him heaps of beautiful
things if he would hold his tongue and not say a word more to any
one, and that he would give Sidonia a good whipping himself, in
return for what she had done to him. So, in short, her Grace never
heard of the insult until after Sidonia's departure from court."

Had her Highness been in her apartment, she must have heard the
child scream; but it so happened that just then she was walking up
and down the ducal gardens, whither she had gone to cool her
anger.

Soon after a stately ship was seen sailing down the river from
Penemunde, [Footnote: A town in Pomerania.] which attracted all
eyes in the castle, for on the deck stood a noble youth, with a
heron's plume waving from his cap, and he held a tame sea-gull
upon his hand, which from time to time flew off and dived into the
water, bringing up all sorts of fish, great and small, in its
beak, with which it immediately flew back to the handsome youth.

"Ah!" exclaimed Clara, "there must be the sons of our gracious
Princess! for to-morrow is her birthday, and here comes the noble
bishop, Johann Frederick of Camyn, and his brother, Duke Bogislaff
XIII., to pay their respects to their gracious mother."

Her Grace, however, would scarcely credit that the handsome youth
who was fishing after so elegant a manner was indeed her own
beloved son; but Clara clapped her hands now, crying, "Look! your
Grace--look! there is the flag hoisted!" And indeed there
fluttered from the mast now the bishop's own arms. So the warder
blew his horn, which was answered by the warder of St. Peter's in
the town, and the bells in all the towers rang out, and the
castellan ordered the cannon in the courtyard to be fired off.

Her Grace was now thoroughly convinced, and weeping for joy, ran
down to the little water-gate, where old Ulrich already stood
waiting to receive the princes. As the vessel approached, however,
they discovered that the handsome youth was not the bishop, but
Duke Bogislaff, who had been staying on a visit at his brother's
court at Camyn, along with several high prelates. The bishop,
Johann Frederick, did not accompany him, for he was obliged to
remain at home, in order to receive a visit from the Prince of
Brandenburg.

When the Duke stepped on shore he embraced his weeping mother
joyfully, and said he came to offer her his congratulations on her
birthday, and that she must not weep but laugh, for there should
be a dance in honour of it, and a right merry feast at the castle
on the morrow.

Then he tumbled out on the bridge all the fish which the bird had
caught; and her Grace wondered greatly, and stroked it as it sat
upon the shoulder of the Prince. So he asked if the bird pleased
her Grace, and when she answered "Yes," he said, "Then, dearest
mother, let it be my birthday gift to you. I have trained it
myself, and tried it here, as you see, upon the river. So any
afternoon that you and your ladies choose to amuse yourselves with
a sail, this bird will fish for you as long as you please, while
you row down the river."

Ah, what a good son was this handsome young Duke!--and when I
think that Sidonia murdered them all--all--even this noble Prince,
my heart seems to break, and the pen falls from my fingers.
[Footnote: Note by Duke Bogislaff XIV.--Et quid mihi, misero
filio? Domine in manus tuas commando spiritum meum, quia tu me
redemisti fide Deus! (And what remains to me, wretched son? Lord,
into Thy hands I commend my spirit, for Thou hast redeemed me,
Thou God of truth.)--When one thinks that it was the general
belief in that age that the whole ducal race had been destroyed
and blasted by Sidonia's sorceries, it is impossible not to be
affected by these melancholy yet resigned and Christian words of
the last orphaned and childless representative of the ancient and
illustrious house of Wolgast.]

But to continue. The Duchess embraced the fine young Prince, who
still continued talking of the dance they must have next day. It
was time now for his gracious mother to give up mourning for her
deceased lord, he said.

But her Grace would not hear of a dance; and replied that she
would continue to mourn for her dear lord all the rest of her
life, to whom she had been wedded by Doctor Martinus. However, the
Duke repeated his entreaties, and all the young nobles added
theirs, and finally Prince Ernest besought her Grace not to deny
them permission to have a festival on the morrow, as it was to
honour her birthday. So she at last consented; but old Ulrich
shook his head, and took her Grace aside to warn her of the
scandal which would assuredly arise when the young nobles had
drunk and grew excited by Sidonia. Hereupon her Grace made answer
that she would take care Sidonia should cause no scandal--"As she
has refused to learn her catechism, she must not appear at the
feast. It will be a fitting punishment to keep her a prisoner for
the whole day, and therefore I shall lock her up myself in her own
room, and put the key in my pocket."

So Ulrich was well pleased, and all separated for the night with
much contentment and hopes of enjoyment on the morrow.




CHAPTER XII.

_Of Appelmann's knavery--Item, how the birthday of her Highness
was celebrated, and Sidonia managed to get to the dance, with the
uproar caused thereby._


Before I proceed further, it will be necessary to state what
happened a few days before concerning Prince Ernest's chief
equerry, Johann Appelmann, otherwise many might doubt the facts I
shall have to relate, though God knows I speak the pure truth.

One came to his lordship the Grand Chamberlain--he was a shoemaker
of the town--and complained to him of Appelmann, who had been
courting his daughter for a long while, and running after her
until finally he had disgraced her in the eyes of the whole town,
and brought shame and scandal into his house. So he prayed Lord
Ulrich to make the shameless profligate take his daughter to wife,
as he had fairly promised her marriage long ago.

Now Ulrich had long suspected the knave of bad doings, for many
pearls and jewels had lately been missing from her Grace's
shabrack and horse-trappings, and the groom, who always laid them
on her Grace's white palfrey, knew nothing about them, though he
was even put to the torture; but as Appelmann had all these things
in his sole keeping, it was natural to think that he was not quite
innocent. Besides, three hundred sacks of oats were missing on the
new year, and no one knew what had become of them.

Therefore Ulrich sent for the cheating rogue, and upbraided him
with his profligate courses, also telling him that he must wed the
shoemaker's daughter immediately. But the cunning knave knew
better, and swore by all the saints that he was innocent, and
finally prevailed upon Prince Ernest to intercede for him, so that
Ulrich promised to give him a little longer grace, but then
assuredly he would bring him to a strict account.

And Appelmann drove the Prince that same day to Grypswald, to find
out more musicians for the castle band, as the march of Duke
Bogislaff the Great was to be played by eighty drums and forty
trumpets in the grand ducal hall, to honour the birthday of her
Highness.

One can imagine what Sidonia felt when the Duchess announced that
as she had refused to learn the catechism, and was neither
obedient to God nor her Grace, she should remain a strict prisoner
in her own room during the festival, as a signal punishment for
her ungodly behaviour. But her maid might bring her food of all
that she chose from the feast.

Sidonia first prayed her Grace to forgive her for the love of God,
and she would learn the whole catechism by heart. But as this had
no effect, then she wept and lamented loudly, and at length fell
down upon her knees before her Grace, who would, however, be
neither moved nor persuaded; and when Sidonia threatened at last
to leave her room, the Duchess went out, locked the door, and put
the key in her pocket. The prisoner howled enough then, I warrant.

But what did she do now, the cunning minx? She gave her maid a
piece of gold, and told her to go up and down the corridor, crying
and wringing her hands, and when any one asked what was the
matter, to say, "That her beautiful young lady was dying of grief,
because the Duchess had locked her up, like a little school-girl,
in her own room, and all for not knowing the catechism of Dr.
Gerschovius, which indeed was not taught in her part of the
country, but another, which she had learned quite well in her
childhood. And so for this, her poor young lady was not to be
allowed to dance at the festival." The maid was to say all this in
particular to Prince Ernest; or if he did not pass through the
corridor, she was to stop weeping and groaning at his
chamber-door, until he came out to ask what was the matter.

The maid followed the instructions right well, and in less than an
hour every soul in the castle, down to the cooks and washerwomen,
knew what had happened, and everywhere the Duchess went she was
assailed by old and young, great and small, with petitions of
pardon for Sidonia.

Her Grace, however, bid them all be silent, and threatened if they
made such shameless requests to forbid the festival altogether.
But when Prince Ernest likewise petitioned in her favour, she was
angry, and said, "He ought to be ashamed of himself. It was now
plain what a fool the girl had made of him. Her maternal heart
would break, she knew it would--and this day would be one of
sorrow in place of joy to her; all on account of this girl."

So the young Prince had to hold his peace for this time; but he
sent a message, nevertheless, to Sidonia, telling her not to fret,
for that he would take her out of her room and bring her to the
dance, let what would happen.

Next morning, by break of day, the whole castle and town were
alive with preparations for the festival. It was now seven
years--that is, since the death of Duke Philip--since any one had
danced in the castle except the rats and mice, and even yet the
splendour of this festival is talked of in Wolgast; and many of
the old people yet living there remember it well, and gave me many
curious particulars thereof, which I shall set down here, that it
may be known how such affairs were conducted in old time at our
ducal courts.

In the morning, by ten of the clock, the young princes, nobles,
clergy, and the honourable counsellors of the town, assembled in
the grand ducal hall, built by Duke Philip after the great fire,
and which extended up all through the three stories of the castle.
At the upper end of the hall was the grand painted window, sixty
feet high, on which was delineated the pilgrimage of Duke
Bogislaff the Great to Jerusalem, all painted by Gerard Homer;
[Footnote: A Frieslander, and the most celebrated painter on glass
of his time.] and round on the walls banners, and shields, and
helmets, and cuirasses, while all along each side, four feet from
the ground, there were painted on the walls figures of all the
animals found in Pomerania: bears, wolves, elks, stags, deer,
otters, &c., all exquisitely imitated.

When all the lords had assembled, the drums beat and trumpets
sounded, whereupon the Pomeranian marshal flung open the great
doors of the hall, which were wreathed with flowers from the
outside, and the princely widow entered with great pomp, leading
the little Casimir by the hand. She was arrayed in the Pomeranian
costume--namely, a white silk under-robe, and over it a surcoat of
azure velvet, brocaded with silver, and open in front. A long
train of white velvet, embroidered in golden laurel wreaths, was
supported by twelve pages dressed in black velvet cassocks with
Spanish ruffs. Upon her head the Duchess wore a coif of scarlet
velvet with small plumes, from which a white veil, spangled with
silver stars, hung down to her feet. Round her neck she had a
scarlet velvet band, twisted with a gold chain; and from it
depended a balsam flask, in the form of a greyhound, which rested
on her bosom.

As her Serene Highness entered with fresh and blushing cheeks, all
bowed low and kissed her hand, glittering with diamonds. Then each
offered his congratulations as best he could.

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