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Sidonia The Sorceress V2

W >> William Mienhold >> Sidonia The Sorceress V2




Then she had strifes and disputes with every one who approached
her, and was notorious through all the courts of justice for her
wrangling and fighting, in particular with her brother's son, Otto
of Stramehl, for she sued him for an _alimentum_ pension, and
also demanded that the rents of her two farm-houses in Zachow
should be paid her, according to the sum to which they must have
accumulated during the last fifty years. But he answered, she
should have no money; why did she not live at her farm-houses? He
knew nothing of the rents, the whole matter was past and
forgotten, and she had no claim now on him, and so every month she
wrangled in the courts about this business. _Item_, she
fought with Preslar of Buslar, because, being a feudal vassal of
the Borks', she required him to kiss her hand, which he refused;
then her dog having strayed into his house, she accused him of
having stolen it. _Item_, she fought with the maid who acted
as cook in the convent kitchen, and said she never got a morsel
fit to eat. And the said maid (I forget her name now) having
salted the fish too much one day, she ran after her with a
broom-stick--once, indeed, beat her so severely, that she was lame
her life long after.

But worse than the fish-salting was the white kerchief which the
maid wore. For people, she said, might take her at a distance to
be one of the honourable convent ladies, therefore she must wear a
coloured one. This the maid would not do, so she was soon brought
to an untimely end also, along with all others who displeased her.

These things, and many more, came out upon her trial, but for
divers reasons I must pass them over. All her notes, messages, and
letters, she entrusted to the porter, Matthias Winterfeld, who was
often sent, may be five times a week, by her to Stargard. But he
dared not remonstrate, or she would have struck him with the
broom-stick.

However, all this is nothing in comparison with the way she
treated the unfortunate nuns. The younger and prettier they were,
so much the more she boxed, beat, and martyred them, even striking
them with the broom-stick. And if they ever smiled or seemed happy
talking to one another, she abused and reviled them, calling them
idle wantons, who thought of nothing but matrimony. None were
permitted outside the convent gates, not even to visit their
parents: they should not be flying back with their crumbs of
gossip about brides and weddings, forsooth, and such-like improper
thoughts. Neither should they go to the annual fair. She would go
herself and buy everything for them she thought needful, only let
them give her the gold.

And out of deadly fear the poor maidens bore this tyranny long
while silently; even the abbess feared to complain, so that
Sidonia soon usurped the entire government of the convent.

But the powder-mill broke out at last into vivid flames, as I
shall narrate here. It was on this wise:--Amongst the novices was
one beautiful young maiden, Ambrosia von Guntersberg by name. She
was fifth daughter of old Ambrosius of Falkenwald, a little town
near Jacobshagen. One day a young nobleman called Ewald von
Mellenthin beheld her in her cloister habit. Think you he forgot
her? No, he can never forget the maiden! One, two weeks pass over,
but she has sunk deeper and deeper into his heart; at last he rose
up and went to Falkenwald to her father, Ambrosius, asking her
hand in honourable marriage.

Now, the old man was well pleased, for he was poor, and had five
daughters; so he bid the young noble write a letter to his
daughter Ambrosia, which he would inclose in one from himself to
her. But no answer arrived from the maiden (we may guess why, for
Sidonia opened and read all the letters that came to the convent,
before they were handed to their owners. Those that displeased her
she burned; no doubt, therefore, the love-letter was the first in
the flames). But the young noble grew impatient for an answer, and
resolved to ride to Marienfliess. So he ties his good horse to a
cross in the churchyard, walks straight up to the convent, and
rings the bell. Immediately the old porter, Matthias, opened to
him, with his hands covered with blood (for he was killing a fat
ox for the nuns, close by); whereupon the noble lord prayed to
speak a few words to the young novice Ambrosia von Guntersberg, at
the grating; and in a little time the beautiful maiden appeared,
tripping along the convent court (but Sidonia is before her).
Ambrosia advanced modestly to the grating, and asked the handsome
knight, "What was his pleasure?" who answered, "Since I beheld you
in Guntersberg, dearest lady, my heart has been wholly yours; and
when I saw how diligently and cheerfully you ruled your father's
house during his sickness, I resolved to take you for my wife, if
such were possible; for I need a good and prudent spouse at my
castle of Lienke, and methinks no better or more beautiful could
be found than yourself. Therefore I obtained your father's
permission to open the matter to you in writing, and he inclosed
my letter in one of his own; but you have neither answered one nor
the other. Whereupon, in my impatience, I saddled my good horse,
and rode over here to have an answer at once from your own
beautiful lips."

When Sidonia heard this, she grew black in the face with
rage--"What! in her presence, before her very face, to dare to
hold such language to a young maiden--a mere child--who knew
nothing at all of what marriage meant. He must pack off this
instant, or the devil himself should turn him out of the
cloister."

Meanwhile the young maiden took heart (for the handsome knight
pleased her), and said, "Gracious Lady Prioress (Sidonia made them
all call her Gracious Lady, as if she were a born princess), I am
no more a child, as you say, and I know very well what marriage
means."

This boldness made the other so wroth that she screamed--"Wait! I
will teach you what marriage is;" and she sprang on her to box
her. But Ambrosia rushed through the side-door out into the court,
Sidonia following; however, not being able to reach her, she
seized up the axe with which the porter had been killing the ox,
and flung it after her, wounding the poor maiden so in the foot
that the red blood poured down over her white stockings, while the
young lover, who could not break the grating, screamed and stamped
for rage and despair. By the good mercy of God the wound was only
slight, still the fair novice fell to the ground; but seeing
Sidonia rushing at her again with the large butcher's knife which
the porter had been using, she sprang up and ran to the grating,
crying out to the noble, "Save me! save me!"

And at her screams all the nuns threw up their windows, right and
left, over the courtyard; but finding the young knight could not
help her, she ran to the old porter, still screaming, "Save me!
save me! she is going to murder me!"

Now the fellow was glad enough to be revenged on Sidonia, for she
had sent him running to Stargard for her late the night before,
and the moment the ox was to be quartered, he was to be off there
again at her command; so he rushed at the vile witch, and seizing
her up like a bundle of old rags, pitched her against the wall
with all his force, adding a right hearty curse; and there she lay
quaking like an old cat, while the handsome young noble laughed
loud from the grating.

But she was up again soon, shook her dry, withered fist at the
porter, and cried, "Ha! thou insolent churl, I will pray thee to
death for this!"

Whereupon she went off to her room, and locked herself up there,
while the fair Ambrosia ran to the grating, and stretching out her
little hands through the bars, exclaimed, "I am yours, dear
knight; oh, take me away from this horrible hell!"

This rejoiced my young noble heartily, and he kissed the little
hands and lamented over her foot--"And was it much hurt? She must
lift it up, and show him if the wound was deep."

So she raised up the dainty foot a little bit, and then saw that
her whole shoe was full of blood; but the old porter, who came by
just then, comforted the handsome youth, and told him he would
stop the blood directly, for the wound was but a trifle. Whereupon
he laid a couple of straws over it, murmured some words, and
behold, in a moment, the blood is staunched! Then the fair novice
thanked him courteously, and prayed him to unlock the wicket, for
she would go and stay a couple of hours with the miller's wife,
while this young noble, to whom she had plighted love and troth,
returned to her father's for a carriage to bring her home. After
what had passed now, never more would she enter the cloister.

But what happened? Scarcely had the good old porter unfastened the
grating, and the young knight taken the fair girl in his arms,
kissing her and pressing her to his heart (well Sidonia did not
see him), when Matthias screamed out, "My God, what ails me?" and
fell flat on the ground. At this the young knight left his bride,
and flew to raise him up. "What could ail him?" But the poor old
man can hardly speak, his eyes are turned in his head, and he
gasped, "It was as if a man were sitting inside his breast, and
crushing him to death. Oh, he could not breathe--his ribs were
breaking!"

The alarmed young noble then helped the poor creature to reach his
room, which lay close by the wicket; and having laid him on the
bed in care of his wife, and recommended him to the mercy of God,
he returned to his own fair bride, to carry her off from this
murder-hole, and place her in safety with the miller's wife. I may
as well mention here that he and the beautiful Ambrosia were
wedded in due time, and lived long in peace and happiness, blessed
with many lovely children; for all the evil which Sidonia tried to
bring upon them, as we shall hear, came to nought, through the
mercy of the great God.

But to return to the porter-on the third day he died; and during
that time, day and night, Sidonia prayed, and was never seen but
once. This was at the dividing of the salmon, when she threw up
her window, and shaking her withered clenched hand at them, and
her long white locks, threatened the nuns on their peril to touch
the tail-piece-the tail-piece was hers.

A general horror pervaded the convent now, in truth, when the
death of the porter was known. Anna Apenborg shut herself up,
trembling, in her cell, and even good Dorothea began somewhat to
doubt the virtues of the vile sorceress; for the corpse had a
strange and unnatural appearance, so that it was horrible to look
upon, by which signs it was easy to perceive that he had been
prayed to death, as the fearful night-hag had threatened.

I must notify these symptoms, for the corpses of many of Sidonia's
victims presented the same appearances; as the corpse of the
reverend David--_item_, Joachim Wedeln of
Cremzow--_item/_, Doctor Schwalenberg of Stargard, and Duke
Philip II., and lastly, the abbess, Magdalena von Petersdorf.
Whether her brother's son, Otto of Stramehl, whom she was
suspected also of having prayed to death, presented the like, I
cannot say with certainty. At this same time also his princely
Grace Duke Bogislaff XIII. expired, many say bewitched to death;
but of this I have no proof, as the body had quite a natural
aspect after death. Still he had just arranged to journey to
Marienfliess himself, and turn out Sidonia, in consequence of the
accusations of Sheriff Sparling and the convent chaplain, so that
his sudden death looks suspicious; however, as the _medicus_,
Dr. Nicolaus Schulz, pronounced, "Quod ex ramis venæ portæ Epatis
et lienis exporrectis, iste adustus sanguis eo prosiliiset" (for
he died by throwing up a black matter like his brothers); and
further, as the manikin on the three-legged hare did not appear
this time at the castle, I shall not lay the murder on Sidonia, to
increase her terrible burden at the last day, though I have my own
thoughts upon the matter.

_Summa._-My gracious Prince died _suddenly_. Alas, woe!
exactly like all his brothers; he was just sixty-one years old,
seven months, and fifteen days, and a more God-fearing prince
never sat on a throne. But my grief over the fate of this great
Pomeranian house has carried me away from the corpse of the old
porter. The appearances were these:--

1. The face brown, green, and yellow, particularly about the
_musculi frontales et temporales._

2. The _musculi pectorales_ so swelled, and the _cartilago
ensiformis_ so singularly raised, that the chest of the corpse
touched the mouth.

3. From the _patella_ of the left leg to the _malleolus
externus_ of the foot, all brown, green, and yellow, blended
together.

And on examination of the said corpse, Dr. Kukuck of Stargard
affirmed and was ready to swear, that no one tittle of the
signature of Satan was wanting thereupon.

_Summa_.--The poor carl was buried with great mourning on the
following Friday; and the reverend David preached a sermon
thereupon, in which he plainly spoke of his strange and unnatural
death, so that every one knew well whom he suspected. My hag heard
of this instantly, and therefore determined to attend the
sacrament on the following Sunday; for this end she despatched
Wolde to the priest, bidding her tell him she had a great desire
to attend the holy rite, and would go to confession that day after
noon. At this horrid blasphemy a cold shudder fell upon the priest
(and I trust every Christian man will feel the like as he reads
this), for he now saw through her motive clearly, how she wanted
to blind the eyes of the people as to the death of the porter, by
this mockery of the holiest rites of religion. Besides, amongst
the horrible abominations practised by witches, it is well known
that having received the sacred bread, they privately take the
same again from their mouth and feed their familiar therewith. And
one day when the convent was quite still, Anna Apenborg, having
crept down to peep through the key-hole of the refectory door, saw
enough to confirm this general belief.

No wonder then if the good priest stood long silent from horror;
then he spake--"Tell the prioress it is well;" but when Wolde was
gone, he threw himself upon his knees in his closet before God,
and wrestled long in prayer, with tears and wringing of hands,
that He would open to him what was his path of duty.

About noon he became more composed, through the great mercy of the
Lord; and bid his wife, Barbara, come to him, with whom he had
lived now a year and a half in perfect joy, though without
children. To her he disclosed the proposition of the horrible
sorceress, and afterwards spake thus:--

"And because, dear Barbara, after earnest prayer to God, I have
come to the resolution neither to shrive nor to give the Lord's
body to this daughter accursed of hell, do not be surprised if a
like death awaits me as happened to the porter, Matthias. When I
die, therefore, dear wife, take thee another spouse and bear
children. 'For the woman,' says the Scripture, 'shall be blessed
through childbearing, so as she continues in faith, and love, and
in holiness with sobriety' (I Tim. ii.). Thus thou wilt soon
forget me."

But the poor wife wept, and besought him to turn from his resolve,
and not incur the vengeance of Sidonia. So he answered, "Weep not,
or our parting will be more bitter; this poor flesh and blood is
weak enough, still never will I blaspheme the holy rite of our
Church, and 'cast pearls before swine' (Matt. vii.). And wherefore
weep? At the last day they would meet again, to smile for ever in
an eternity of joy. But could he hope for this if he were an
unfaithful steward of the mysteries of God? No; but it was
written, 'Death is swallowed up in victory. Death, where is thy
sting? Hell, where is thy victory? God be thanked who giveth us
the victory through Christ our Lord' (I Cor. xv.). In God
therefore he trusted, and in His strength would go now to the
confessional."

She must let him go; the sexton would soon ring the bell, and he
wished to pray some time alone in the church. Her tears had again
disturbed his spirit, and made him weak. But he would use the holy
keys of his office, which his Saviour had entrusted to him, to His
glory alone, even if this accursed sorceress were to bring him to
the grave for it. If the Lord will, He could protect him, but he
would still do his duty. Will she not let him go now, that he may
pray?

And when she unwound her arms, he took her again in his, kissed
her, sobbed, and wept; then tearing himself away, went out into
the church by the garden entrance.

Then the poor wife flung herself on a seat, weeping and praying,
but in a little while in came Dorothea Stettin, saying, "That she
was going to confession, and had no small silver for the
offertory. Could she give her change of a dollar?"

Then she asked about the other's grief; and having heard the
cause, promised to go to the priest herself, and beseech him not
to break the staff "Woe" over Sidonia. She went therefore
instantly to the church, and found him on his knees praying behind
the altar. Whereupon she entreated him, after her fashion, not to
break the blessed peace--peace above all things.

Meanwhile the sexton rung the bell, and Sidonia entered, sweeping
the nave of the church to the altar, followed by seven or eight
nuns. But when she beheld Dorothea come out at one side, and the
priest at the other, and that not another soul had been in the
church, she laughed aloud mockingly, and clapped her hands--"Ha!
the pious priest, would he tell them now what he and Dorothea were
doing behind the altar? The sisters were all witnesses how this
shameless parson conducted himself." Though she spoke this quite
loud for every one to hear, yet not one of the nuns made answer,
but stood trembling like doves who see the falcon ready to pounce
upon them. Yea, even as Dorothea came down the altar steps to take
her place in the choir, my hag laughed loud again like Satan, and
cried, "Ah! the chaste virgin! who meetest the priest behind the
altar! Thou shameless wanton, the prioress shall teach thee fitter
behaviour soon!"

Poor Dorothea turned quite pale with fright, and began--"Ah! dear
sister, only listen!"

But the dragon snapped at her, with--"Dear sister, forsooth!
What!--was she to bear this insolence? Let her know that the
gracious Lady Prioress was not to be talked to as 'dear sister '!"

Here the organ struck up the confession hymn; and the whole
congregation being assembled in the church, Sidonia and the seven
nuns ascended the steps of the altar, bowed to the priest, and
then took their seats, whereupon the organ ceased playing.

After a brief silence, the poor minister sighed heavily, and then
spake--"Sidonia, after all that has been stated concerning you,
particularly with regard to the death of the convent porter within
these last few days, I cannot, as a faithful servant of God, give
you either absolution or the holy rite of the Lord's Supper, until
you clear yourself from such imputations before a princely
consistorium."

At this my hag laughed loud from the altar, crying, "Eh?--that was
a strange story. What had she done to the convent porter?"

_Ille_.--"Prayed him to death, as every one believed, and his
appearance proved."

_Hæc_ (still laughing).--"He must have lost his senses. Let
him go home and bind asses' milk upon his temples; he would soon
be better."

_Ille_.--"She should remember where and what she spoke. Had
she not herself said, she would pray the porter to death?"

_Hæc_ (laughing yet louder).--"Oh! in truth, his little bit
of mother-wit was quite gone. When and where had it been ever
heard that one person could pray another to death? Then they might
pray them to life again. Shall she try it with the porter?"

_Ille_.--"Why then had she threatened it?"

_Hæc_ (still laughing).--"Ah! poor man! she saw now he was
quite foolish. Why had she threatened? Why, in anger, of course,
because the vile churl had flung her against the wall. Had he
never heard the poor people say to each other, 'May the devil take
you;' but if one happened to die soon after, did people really
think the devil had taken him? Why, he was as superstitious as an
old spinning-wife."

_Ille_.--"She had heard his resolve. This was no place to
argue with her; therefore she might go her ways, for he would
verily not give her absolution."

So Sidonia rose up raging from the confessional, clenched her
hand, and screamed out in the still church, so that all the people
shuddered with horror--"Ye are all my witnesses that this
worthless priest has denied me absolution, because, forsooth, he
says I killed the convent porter. Ha! ha! ha! Where is it said in
your Scriptures that one man can pray another to death? But the
licentiousness of the vile priest has turned his brain, and he
wallows in all most senseless superstitions. Did he not run after
my old hag of a servant, as I myself saw; and this was not enough,
but he must take Dorothea Stettin (the hypocritical wanton) behind
the altar alone; and because I and these seven maidens discovered
his iniquity, he refuses me the rites, and must have me before a
princely consistorium to revenge himself. But wait, priest, I will
drag the sheep's clothing from thee. Wait, thou shalt yet repent
this bitterly!"

After the horrible sorceress had so blasphemed, she departed as
quickly as possible from the church, muttering to herself. The
congregation remained silent from fear and terror; and the poor
priest, who seemed more dead than alive, prayed the sexton to
fetch him a cup of water, which he drank; and then being in some
degree recovered, he stepped forth, and addressed the congregation
thus:--

"Dear brethren and friends, after what ye have just heard, ye will
not wonder if I am unable to receive confessions this day, or to
administer the holy communion. Ye all know Dorothea Stettin,
neither is my character unknown to you; therefore remember the
words of St. Peter, 'The devil goeth about as a roaring lion,
seeking whom he may devour.' But we will resist him, steadfast in
the faith. Meet me, then, tomorrow here at the altar, and ye shall
hear my justification. After which, I will shrive those who desire
to be partakers of the holy sacrament."

And on the following morning, the holy minister of God preached
from Matthew v. 11--"Blessed are ye when men shall revile you and
persecute you, and say all manner of evil falsely against you, for
My sake; be glad and comforted, for ye shall be well recompensed
in heaven." And in this powerful sermon he drew a picture of
Sidonia from her youth up; so that many trembled for him when they
remembered her power, though they glorified God for the mighty
zeal and courage that burned in his words. But when Sidonia heard
of this sermon, she became almost frantic from rage.




CHAPTER VI.

_Dorothea Stettin falls sick, and how the doctor manages to
bleed her--Item, how Sidonia chases the princely commissioners
into the oak-forest._


Such a public humiliation the good virgin Dorothea Stettin found
it impossible to bear. She fell sick, and repented with bitter
tears of the trust and confidence she had reposed in Sidonia;
finally, the abbess sent off a message to Stargard for the
_medicus_, Dr. Schwalenberg.

This doctor was an excellent little man, rather past middle age
though still unmarried, upright and honest, but rough as
bean-straw. When he stood by Dorothea's bed and had heard all
particulars of her illness, he bid her put out her hand, that he
might feel her pulse. "No, no;" she answered, "that could she
never do; never in her life had a male creature felt her pulse."
At this my doctor laughed right merrily, and all the nuns who
stood round, and Sidonia's old maid, Wolde, laughed likewise; but
at last he persuaded Dorothea to stretch out her hand.

"I must bleed her," said the doctor. "This is _febris
putrida_; therefore was her thirst so great: she must strip her
arm till he bleed her." But no one can persuade her to this--strip
her arm! no, never could she do it; she would die first: if the
doctor could do nothing else, he may go his ways.

Now the doctor grew angry. Such a cursed fool of a woman he had
never come across in his life; if she did not strip her arm
instantly, he would do it by force. But Dorothea is inflexible;
say what he would, she would strip her arm for no man!

Even the abbess and the sisterhood tried to persuade her.

"Would she not do it for her health's sake; or, at least, for the
sake of peace?"

They were all here standing round her, but all in vain. At last
the doctor, half-laughing, half-cursing, said--

"He would bleed her in the foot. Would that do?"

"Yes, she would consent to that; but the doctor must leave the
room while she was getting ready."

So my doctor went out, but on entering again found her sitting on
the bed, dressed in her full convent robes, her head upon Anna
Apenborg's shoulder, and her foot upon a stool. As the foot,
however, was covered with a stocking, the doctor began to scold.

"What was the stocking for? Let him take off the stocking. Was she
making a fool of him? He advised her not to try it."

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