Sidonia, the Sorceress Volume I Part 16

So everything was arranged at last, the priest promising to perform the ceremony on the third night from that; "For some time," he said, "would be necessary to collect people to a.s.sist them in their flight, and money must be distributed; but his Highness would, of course, repay all that he expended in his behalf, and further promise to give him and his family free quarters when they reached Stettin."

After the ceremony, they could reach the boat through the convent garden, and sail away to Warte. [Footnote: A town near Usdom.]

Then he would have four or five peasants in waiting, with carriages ready, to escort them to East Clune, from whence they could take another boat and cross the Haff into Stettin; for, as they could not reckon on a fair wind with any certainty, it was better to perform the journey half by land and half by water; besides, the fishermen whom he intended to employ were not accustomed to sail up the Peen the whole way into the Haff, for their little fis.h.i.+ng-smacks were too slight to stand a strong current.

Hereupon the Prince answered, that, since it was necessary, he would wait until the third night, when the priest should have everything in readiness, but meanwhile should confide the secret to no one. So he turned away, and comforted the old mother again with his promises as he pa.s.sed out.

The next morning, having written all down for Sidonia, and concealed the note in an arrow, he went forth as he had arranged, and began to tease the bear by shooting arrows at him, till the beast roared and shook his chain. Then, perceiving that Sidonia had observed him from the window, he watched a favourable opportunity, and shot the arrow up, right through her window, so that the pane of gla.s.s rattled down upon the floor. In the billet therein concealed he explained the whole plan of escape; and asked her to inform him, in return, how she could manage to come to him on the third night. Would his dearest Sidonia put on the dress of a page? He could bring it to her little chamber himself the next night. She must write a little note in answer, and conceal it in the arrow as he had done, then throw it out of the window, and he would be on the watch to pick it up.

So Sidonia replied to him that she was content; but, as regarded the page's dress, he must leave it, about ten o'clock the next night, upon the beer-barrel in the corridor, but not attempt to bring it himself to her chamber. Concerning the manner in which she was to meet him on the third night, had he forgotten that the old castellan barred and bolted all that wing of the castle by eleven o'clock, so that she could never leave the corridor by the usual way; but there was a trapdoor near her little chamber which led down into the ducal stables, and this door no one ever thought of or minded--it was never bolted night or day, and was quite large enough for a man to creep through. Her dear Prince might wait for her, by that trap-door, at eleven o'clock on the appointed night. He could not mistake it, for the large basket lay close behind, in which her Grace kept her darling little kittens; from thence they could easily get into the outer courtyard, which was never locked, and, after that, go where they pleased. If he approved of this arrangement, let him shoot another arrow into her room; but, above all things, he was to keep at a distance from her during the day, that her Grace might not suspect anything.

Having thrown the arrow out of the window, and received another in answer from the Prince, which the artful hypocrite flung out as if in great anger, she ran to Clara's room, and complained bitterly how the young lord had broken her window, because, forsooth, he must be shooting arrows at the bear; and so she had to come into her room out of the cold air, until the glazier came to put in the gla.s.s. When Clara asked how she could be so angry with the young Prince--did she not love him any longer?--Sidonia replied, that truly she had grown very tired of him, for he did nothing but sigh and groan whenever he came near her, like an asthmatic old woman, and had grown as thin and dry as a baked plum. There was nothing very lovable about him now. Would to Heaven that he were quite well, and she would soon bid farewell to the castle and every one in it; but the moment she spoke of going his sickness returned, so that she was obliged to remain, which was much against her inclination; and this she might tell Clara in confidence, because she had always been her truest friend.

Then she pretended to weep, and cursed her beauty, which had brought her nothing but unhappiness; thereupon the tender-hearted Clara began to comfort her, and kissed her; and the moment Sidonia left her to get the gla.s.s mended, Clara ran to her Grace to tell her the joyful tidings; but, alas! that very day the wickedness of the artful maiden was brought to light. For what happened in the afternoon? See, the nun of Crummyn steps out of a boat at the little water-gate, and places herself in a corner of the courtyard, where the people soon gather round in a crowd, to laugh at her white garments and black scapulary; and the boys begin to pelt the poor old mother with stones, and abuse her, calling her the old Papist witch; but by good fortune the castellan comes by, and commands the crowd to leave off tormenting her, and then asks her business.

_Illa._--"She must speak instantly to her Grace the princely widow."

So the old man brings her to her Grace, with whom Clara was still conversing, and the old nun, after she had kneeled to the d.u.c.h.ess and kissed her hand, began to relate how her young lord, Prince Ernest, had been with her the night before, while she was keeping the _vigilia_ of holy St. Bernard to the best of her ability, and had urgently demanded to see the Lutheran priest named Neigialink, and that when this same priest came into the church to scold her, as was his wont, he and the Prince had retired into the choir, and there held a long conversation which she did not comprehend. But the priest's mistress had told her the whole business this morning, under a promise of secrecy--namely, that the priest, her leman, had promised to wed Prince Ernest privately, on the third night from that, to a certain young damsel named Sidonia von Bork. That the Prince had given him a thousand gulden for his services, and a promise of a rich living when he succeeded to the government, so that in future she could live as grand as an abbess, and have what beautiful horses she chose from the ducal stables.

"And this," said the nun, "was told me by the priest's mistress; but as I have a true Pomeranian heart, although, indeed, the Prince has left the good old religion, I could not rest in peace until I stepped into a boat, weak and old as I am, and sailed off here direct to inform your Grace of the plot." She only asked one favour in return for her service. It was that her Grace would permit her to end the rest of her days peaceably in the cloister, and protect her from the harshness of the Lutheran priests and the fury of the mob, who fell on her like mad dogs here in the castle court, and would have torn her to pieces if the castellan had not come by and rescued her. But above all, she requested and prayed her Grace to permit a true priest to come to her from Grypswald, who could give her the holy Eucharist, and prepare her for death.

But her Grace was struck dumb by astonishment and alarm, and Clara could not speak either, only wrung her hands in anguish. And her Grace continued to walk up and down the room weeping bitterly, until at last she sat down before her desk to indite a note to old Ulrich, praying for his presence without delay, and straightway despatched the chief equerry, Appelmann, with it to Spantekow.

The old nun still continued crying, would not her Grace send her a priest? But her Grace refused; for in fact she was a stern upholder of the pure doctrine. Anything else the old mother demanded she might have, but with the abominations of Popery her Grace would have nothing to do. Still the old nun prayed and writhed at her feet, crying and groaning, "For the love of G.o.d, a priest! for the love of G.o.d, a priest!" but her Grace drew herself up stiff and stern, and let the old woman writhe there unheeded, until at length she motioned to Clara to have her removed to the courtyard, where the poor creature leaned up against the pump in bitter agony, and drew forth a crucifix from her bosom, kissed it, and looking up to heaven, cried, "Jesu! Jesu! art Thou come at last?" and then dropped down dead upon the pavement, which the crowd no sooner observed than they gathered round the corpse, screaming out, "The devil has carried her off! See! the devil has carried off the old Papist witch!" Hearing the uproar, her Grace descended, as did also the young lord and Sidonia, who both appeared as if they knew nothing at all about the old nun. And her Grace commanded that the executioner should by no means drag away the body, as the people demanded, who were now rus.h.i.+ng to the spot from all quarters of the town, but that it should be decently lifted into the boat and conveyed back again to Crummyn, there to be interred with the other members of the sisterhood at the cloister.

No word did she speak, either to her undutiful son or to Sidonia, about what she had heard; only when the latter asked her what the nun came there for, she answered coldly, "For a Popish priest."

Hereupon the young Prince was filled with joy, concluding that nothing had been betrayed as yet. And it was natural the old nun should come with this request, seeing that she had made the same to him. Her Grace also strictly charged Clara to observe a profound silence upon all they had heard, until the old chamberlain arrived, and this she promised.

CHAPTER XVII.

_Of Ulrich's counsels--Item, how Clara von Dewitz came upon the track of the ghost._

At eleven o'clock that same night, the good and loyal Lord Ulrich arrived at the castle with Appelmann, from Spantekow, and just waited to change his travelling dress before he proceeded to the apartment of her Grace. He found her seated with Clara and another maiden, weeping bitterly. Dr. Gerschovius was also present. When the old man entered, her Grace's lamentations became yet louder--alas! how she was afflicted! Who could have believed that all this had come upon her because the devil, out of malice, had made Dr. Luther drop her wedding-ring at the bridal! And when the knight asked in alarm what had happened, she replied that tears prevented her speaking, but Dr. Gerschovius would tell him all.

So the doctor related the whole affair, from the declaration of the old nun to the hypocritical conduct of Sidonia towards Clara von Dewitz, upon which the old knight shook his head, and said, "Did I not counsel your Grace to let the young lord die, in G.o.d's name, for better is it to lose life than honour. Had he died then, so would the Almighty have raised him pure and perfect at the last day, but now he is growing daily in wickedness as a young wolf in ferocity."

Then her Grace made answer, the past could not now be recalled; and that she was ready to answer before G.o.d for what she had done through motherly love and tenderness. They must now advise her how to save her infatuated son from the snares of this wanton. Dr.

Gerschovius, thereupon, gave it as his opinion that they should each be placed in strict confinement for the next fourteen days, during which time he would visit and admonish them twice a day, by which means he hoped soon to turn their hearts to G.o.d.

Here old Ulrich laughed outright, and asked the doctor, was he still bent upon teaching Sidonia her catechism? As to the young lord, no admonition would do him good now; he was thoroughly bewitched by the girl, and though he made a hundred promises to give her up, would never hold one of them. Alas! alas! that the son of good Duke Philip should be so degenerate.

But her Grace wept bitterly, and said, that never was there a more obedient, docile, and amiable child than her dear Ernest; skilled in all the fine arts, and gifted by nature with all that could ensure a mother's love. "But how does all this help him now?"

cried Ulrich. "It is with a good heart as with a good s.h.i.+p, unless you guide it, it will run aground--stand by the helm, or the best s.h.i.+p will be lost. What had the country to expect from a Prince who would die, forsooth? unless his mistress sat by his bedside?

Ah! if he could only have followed the funeral of the young lord, he would have given a hundred florins to the poor that very day!"

"It was not her son's fault--that base hypocrite had caused it all by some h.e.l.l magic."

_Ille_.--"That was quite impossible; however, he would believe it to please her Grace."

"Then let him speak his opinion, if the counsel of Dr. Gerschovius did not please him."

_Ille_.--"His advice, then, was to keep quiet until the third night, then secretly place a guard round the castle and at the wing, and when the bridal party met, take them out prisoners, send my young lord to the tower, but disgrace Sidonia publicly, and send her off where she pleased--to the fiend, if she liked."

"Then they would have the same old scene over again; her son would fall sick, and Sidonia could not be brought back to cure him, if once she had been publicly disgraced before all the people. So matters would be worse than ever."

Hereupon old Ulrich fell into such a rage that he cursed and swore, that her Grace treated him no better than a fool, to bring him hither from Spantekow, and then refuse to take his advice. As to Sidonia, her Grace had already brought disgrace upon her princely house, by first turning her out, and then praying her to come back before three days had elapsed. All Pomerania talked of it, and old Otto Bork did not scruple to brag and boast everywhere, that her Grace had no peace or rest from her conscience until she had asked forgiveness from the Lady Sidonia (as the vain old knave called her) and entreated her to return.

Now if she took the advice of Doctor Gerschovius, and first imprisoned and then turned away Sidonia, no one would believe in her story of the intended marriage, but look on her conduct as only a confirmation of all the hard treatment which her Grace was reported to have employed towards the girl; whereas if she only waited till the whole bridal party were ready to start, and then arrested Sidonia, her Grace was justified before the whole world, for what greater fault could be committed than thus to entrap the young Prince into a secret marriage, and run away with him by night from the castle? Let her Grace then send for the executioner, and let him give Sidonia a public whipping before all the people. No one would think the punishment too hard, for seducing a Prince of Pomerania into a marriage with her.

So the princely widow of Duke Philip will be justified before all the world; and when the young lord sees his bride so disgraced, he will a.s.suredly be right willing to give her up; even if he fall sick, it is impossible that he could send for a maiden to sit by his bed who had been publicly whipped by the executioner. Those were stern measures, perhaps, but a branch of the old Pomeranian tree was decayed; it must be lopped, or the whole tree itself would soon fall.

When the Grand Chamberlain ceased speaking, her Grace considered the matter well, and finally p.r.o.nounced that she would follow his advice, whereupon, as the night waxed late, she dismissed the party to their beds, retaining only Clara with her for a little longer.

But a strange thing happened as she, too, finally quitted her Grace, and proceeded along the corridor to her own little apartment--and here let every one consider how the hand of G.o.d is in everything, and what great events He can bring forth from the slightest causes, as a great oak springs up from a little acorn.

For as the maiden walked along, her sandal became unfastened, and tripped her, so that she nearly fell upon her face, whereupon she paused, and placing her foot upon a beer-barrel that stood against the wall not far from Sidonia's chamber, began to fasten it, but lo! just at that moment the head of the ghost appeared rising through the trap-door, and looked round, then, as if aware of her presence, drew back, and she heard a noise as if it had jumped down on the earth beneath. She was horribly frightened, and crept trembling to her bed; but then on reflecting over this apparition of the serpent knight, it came into her head that it could not be a ghost, since it came down on the ground with such a heavy jump; she prayed to G.o.d, therefore, to help her in discovering this matter, and as she could not sleep, rose before the first glimmer of daylight to examine this hole which lay so close to Sidonia's chamber, and there truly she discovered the trap-door, and having opened, found that it lay right over a large coach in the ducal stables; thereupon she concluded that the ghost was no other than the Prince himself who thus visited Sidonia.

Then she remembered that the ghost had been particularly active while the young Prince lay sick on his bed watched by his mother; so to make the matter clearer she went the next evening into the stables, and observing the coach, which lay just beneath the hole, sprinkled fine ash-dust all round it. Then returning to her room, she waited until it grew quite dark, and as ten o'clock struck and all the doors of the corridor leading to the women's apartments were barred and bolted, she wrapped herself in a black mantle and stole out with a palpitating heart into the gallery. Remembering the large beer-barrel near Sidonia's room, she crouched down behind it, and from thence had a distinct view of the trap-door, and also of Sidonia's chamber. There she waited for about an hour, when she perceived the young Prince coming, but not through the trap-door. He knocked lightly at Sidonia's door, who opened it instantly, and they held a long whispering conversation together.

He had brought her the page's dress, and there was nothing to be feared now, for he had examined the trap and found they could easily get out through it on the top of the coach, and from thence into the stables. After that the way was clear. Surely some good angel had put the idea into her head. Then he kissed her tenderly.

_Illa_.--"What did the old nun come for? Could she have betrayed them?"

_Hic_.--"Impossible. She did not know a syllable of their affairs, and had come to ask his lady mother to send her a Popish priest, as she had asked himself." Then he kissed her again, but she tore herself from his arms, threw the little bundle into the room, and shut the door in his face. Whereupon the young Prince went his way, sighing as if his heart would break.

Now Clara concluded, with reason, that the young lord was not the ghost, inasmuch as he did not creep through the trap-door, nor did he wear helmet or cuira.s.s, or any sort of disguise. But when she heard Sidonia talk with such knowledge of the trap-door, she guessed there was some knavery in the matter, and though she sat the night there she was determined to watch. And behold! at twelve o'clock there was a great clattering heard below, and presently a helmet appeared rising through the hole, and then the entire figure of the ghost clambered up through it, and after cautiously looking round it, approached Sidonia's door, and knocked lightly.

Immediately she opened it herself, admitted the ghost, and Clara heard her drawing the bolts of the door within.

The pious and chaste maiden felt ready to faint with shame; for it was now evident that Sidonia deceived the poor young Prince as well as every one else, and that this ghost whom she admitted must be a favoured lover. She resolved to watch until he came out. But it was about the dawn of morning before he again appeared, and took his h.e.l.lish path down through the trap-door, in the same way as he had risen. But to make all certain she took a brush, and before it was quite day, descended to the stables, where, indeed, she observed large, heavy footprints in the ashes all round the coach, quite unlike those which the delicate little feet of his Highness would have made. So she swept them all clean away to avoid exciting any suspicion, and crept back noiselessly to her little room. Then waiting till the morning was somewhat advanced, she despatched her maid on some errand into the town, in order to get rid of her, and then watched anxiously for her bridegroom, Marcus Bork, who always pa.s.sed her door going to his office; and hearing his step, she opened her door softly, and drew him in.

Then she related fully all she had heard and seen on the past night.

The upright and virtuous young man clasped his hands together in horror and disgust, but could not resolve whether it were fitter to declare the whole matter to her Highness instantly or not.

Clara, however, was of opinion that her Grace would derive great comfort from the information, because when the Prince found how Sidonia had betrayed him, he would give up the creature of his own accord. To which Marcus answered, that probably the Prince would not believe a word of the story, and then matters would be in a worse way than ever.

_Illa_.--"Was he afraid to disgrace Sidonia because she was his kinswoman? Was it the honour of his name he wished to s.h.i.+eld by sparing her from infamy?"

_Hic_.--"No; she wronged him. If she were his sister, he would still do his duty towards her Grace. The honour of the whole Pomeranian house was perilled here, and he would save it at any cost. But did his darling bride know who the ghost was?"

_Illa_.--"No; she had been thinking the whole night about him till her head ached, but in vain."

At this moment the Grand Chamberlain pa.s.sed the room on his way to the d.u.c.h.ess, and they both went to the door, and entreated him to come in and give them his advice. How the old knight laughed for joy when he heard all; it was almost as good news to him as the death of the young lord would have been. But no; they must not breathe a syllable of it to her Highness. Wait for this night, and if the dear ghost appeared again, he would give him and his paramour something to think of to the end of their lives. Then he walked up and down Clara's little room, thinking over what should be done; and finally resolved to open the matter to the young Prince that night between ten and eleven o'clock, and show him what a creature he was going to make d.u.c.h.ess of Pomerania. After which they should all, Marcus included, go armed to the stables--for the Prince, no doubt, would be slow of belief--and there conceal themselves in the coach until the ghost arrived. If he came, as was almost certain, they would follow him to Sidonia's room, break it open, and discover them together. In order that witnesses might not be wanting, he would desire all the pages and household to be collected in his room at that hour; and the moment they were certain of having trapped the ghost, Marcus should slip out of the coach, and run to gather them all together in the grand corridor. To ensure all this being done, he would take the keys from the castellan himself that night, and keep them in his own possession. But, above all things, they were to keep still and quiet during the day; and now he would proceed to her Grace.

But Marcus Bork begged to ask him, if the ghost did not come that night, what was to be done? For the next was to be that of the marriage, and unless the Prince was convinced by his own eyes, nothing would make him credit the wickedness of his intended bride. Sidonia would swear by heaven and earth that the story was a malicious invention, and a plot to effect her utter destruction.

This view of the case puzzled the old knight not a little, and he rubbed his forehead and paced up and down the room, till suddenly an idea struck him, and he exclaimed--"I have it, Marcus! You are a brave youth, dear Marcus, and a loyal subject and servant to her Grace. Your conduct will bring as much honour upon the n.o.ble name of Bork as Sidonia's has brought disgrace. Therefore I will trust you. Listen, Marcus. If the ghost does not appear to-night, then you must ride the morrow morn to Crummyn. Bribe the priest with gold. Tell him that he must write instantly to the young Prince, saying, that the marriage must be delayed for eight days, for there was no boat to be had safe enough to carry him and his bride up the Haff, seeing that all the boats and their crews were engaged at the fisheries, and would not be back to Crummyn until the following Sat.u.r.day. The young lord, therefore, must have patience. Should the priest hesitate, then Marcus must threaten him with the loss of his living, as the whole princely house should be made acquainted with his villainy. He will then consent.

I know him well!

"If that is once arranged, then we shall seat ourselves every night in the coach until the ghost comes; and, methinks, he will not long delay, since hitherto he has managed his work with such security and success."