Читать книгу Sidonia, the Sorceress (Vol. 1&2) - Wilhelm Meinhold - Страница 26

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How the horrible wickedness of Sidonia was made apparent; and how in consequence thereof she was banished with ignominy from the ducal court of Wolgast.

The night came at last. And the Grand Chamberlain collected, as he had said, all the officials and pages of the household together in his office at the treasury, and bid them wait there until he summoned them. No one was to leave the apartment under pain of his severe displeasure. Item, he had prayed her Grace not to retire to rest that night before twelve of the clock; and when she asked wherefore, he replied that she would have to take leave of a very remarkable visitor that night; upon which she desired to know more, but he said that his word was passed not to reveal more. So her Grace thought he meant himself, and promised to remain up.

As ten o'clock struck, the castellan locked, up, as was his wont, all that portion of the castle leading to the women's apartments. Whereupon Ulrich asked him for the keys, saying that he would keep them in his own charge. Then he prayed his Serene Highness Prince Ernest to accompany him to the lumber-room.

His Highness consented, and they both ascended in the dark. On entering, Ulrich drew forth a dark lantern from beneath his cloak, and made the light fall upon an old suit of armour. Then turning to the Prince—"Do you know this armour?" he said.

"Ah, yes; it was the armour of his dearly beloved father, Duke

Philip."

Ille.—"Right. Did he then remember the admonitions which the wearer of this armour had uttered, upon his deathbed, to him and his brothers?"

"Oh yes, well he remembered them; but what did this long sermon denote?"

Ille.—"This he would soon know. Had he not given his right hand to the wearer of that armour, and pledged himself ever to set a good example before the people committed to his rule?"

Hic.—"He did not know what all this meant. Had he even set a bad example to his subjects?"

Ille.—"He was on the high-road to do it, when he had resolved to wed himself secretly to a maiden beneath his rank. (Here the young Prince became as pale as a corpse.) Let him deny, if he could, that he had sworn by his father's corpse, with his hand upon the coffin, to abandon Sidonia. He would not upbraid him with his broken promises to him, but would he bring his loving mother to her grave through shame and a broken heart? Would he make himself on a level with the lowest of the people, by wedding Sidonia the next night in the church at Crummyn?"

Hic.—"Had that accursed Catholic nun then betrayed him? Ah, he was surrounded by spies and traitors; but if he could not obtain Sidonia now, he would wed her the moment he was of age and succeeded to the government. If he could in no way have Sidonia, then he would never wed another woman, but remain single and a dead branch for his whole life long. Her blood was as noble as his own, and no devil should dare to part them."

_Ille.—"But if he could prove, this very night, to the young lord, that Sidonia was not an honourable maiden, but a dishonoured creature——" Here the young Prince drew his dagger and rushed upon the old man, with lips foaming with rage; but Ulrich sprang behind the armour of Duke Philip, and said calmly, "Ernest, if thou wouldst murder me who have been so leal and faithful a servant to thee and thine, then strike me dead here through the links of thy father's cuirass."

And as the young man drew back with a deep groan, he continued—"Hear me, before thou dost a deed which eternity will not be long enough to repent. I cannot be angry with thee, for I have been young myself, and would have stricken any one to the earth who had called my own noble bride dishonoured. Listen to me, then, and strike me afterwards, if thou wilt." Hereupon the old knight stepped out from behind the armour, which was fixed upon a wooden frame in the middle of the apartment, with the helmet surmounting it, and leaning against the shoulder-piece, he proceeded to relate all that Clara had seen and heard.

The young Prince turned first as red as scarlet, then pale as a corpse, and sunk down upon a pile of old armour, unable to utter anything but sighs and groans.

Ulrich then asked if he remembered the silly youth who had been drowned lately in consequence of Sidonia's folly; for it was his apparition in the armour he then wore which it was reported haunted the castle. And did he remember also how that armour (in which the poor young man's father also had been killed fighting against the Bohemians) had been taken off the corpse and hung up again in that lumber-room?

Hic.—"Of course he remembered all that; it had happened too lately for him to forget the circumstance."

Ille.—"Well, then, let him take the lantern himself, and see if the armour hung still upon the wall." So the young lord took the lantern with trembling hands, and advanced to the place; but no—there was no armour there now. Then he looked all round the room, but the armour with the serpent crest was nowhere to be seen. He dropped the lantern with a bitter execration. Hereupon the old knight continued—"You see, my gracious Prince, that the ghost must have flesh and blood, like you or me. The castellan tells me that when the ghost first began his pranks, the helmet and cuirass were still found every morning in their usual place here. But for eight days they have not been forthcoming; for the ghost, you see, is growing hardy and forgetting his usual precautions. However, the castellan had determined to watch him, and seize hold of him, for, as he rightly conjectured, a spirit could not carry away a heavy iron suit of armour on him; but his wife had dissuaded him from those measures up to the present time. Come now to the stables with me," continued Ulrich, "and let us conceal ourselves in the coach which I mentioned to you; Marcus Bork shall accompany us, and let us wait there until the ghost appears, and creeps through the trapdoor. After some time we shall follow him; and then this wicked cheat will be detected. But before we move, swear to me that you will await the issue peaceably and calmly in the coach; you must neither sigh nor groan, nor scarcely breathe. No matter what you hear or see, if you cannot control your fierce, jealous rage, all will be lost."

Then the young Prince gave him his hand, and promised to keep silence, though it should cost him his life, for no one could be more anxious to discover the truth or falsehood of this matter than he himself. So they both descended now to the courtyard, Ulrich concealing the lantern under his mantle; and they crouched along by the wall till they reached the horse-pond, where Marcus Bork stood awaiting them; then they glided on, one by one, into the stables, and concealed themselves within the coach.

It was well they did so without longer delay, for scarcely had they been seated when the ghost appeared. No doubt he had heard of the intended marriage, and wished to take advantage of his last opportunity. As the sound of his feet became audible approaching the coach, the Prince almost groaned audibly; but the stout old knight threw one arm powerfully round his body, and placed the hand of the other firmly over his mouth. The ghost now began to ascend the coach, and they heard him clambering up the hind wheel; he slipped down, however (a bad omen), and muttered a half-curse; then, to help himself up better, he seized hold of the sash of the window, and with it took a grip of Ulrich's beard, as he was leaning close to the side of the coach to watch his proceedings. Not a stir did the brave old knight make, but sat as still as marble, and even held his breath, lest the ghost might feel it warm upon his hand, and so discover their ambuscade.

At last he was up; and they heard him clattering over their heads, then creeping through the trap-door into the corridor, and a little after, the sound of a door gently opening.

All efforts were in vain to keep the Prince quiet. He must follow him. He would rush through the trap-door after him, though it cost him his life! But old Ulrich whispered in his ear, "Now I know that Prince Ernest has neither honour nor discretion, and Pomerania has little to hope from such a ruler." All in vain—he springs out of the coach, but the knight after him, who hastily gave Marcus Bork the keys of the castle, and bade him go fetch the household, down to the menials, here to the gallery. Marcus took them, and left the stables instantly. Then Ulrich seized the hand of Prince Ernest, who was already on the top of the coach, and asked him was it thus he would, leave an old man without any one to assist him. Let him in first through the trap-door, while the Prince held the lantern. To this he consented, and helped the old knight up, who, having reached the trap-door, put his head through; but, alas! the portly stomach of the stout old knight would not follow. He stretched out his head, however, on every side, as far as it could go, and heard distinctly low whispering voices from Sidonia's little room; then a sound as of the tramp of many feet became audible in the courtyard, by which he knew that Marcus and the household were advancing rapidly.

But the young lord, who was waiting at the top of the coach, grew impatient, and pulled him back, endeavouring to creep through the hole himself. Praised be Heaven, however, this he failed to do from weakness; so he was obliged to follow the Grand Chamberlain, who whispered to him to come down, and they could reach the corridor through the usual entrance. Hereupon they both left the stables, and met Marcus in the courtyard with his company.

Then all ascended noiselessly to the gallery, and ranged themselves around Sidonia's door. Ulrich now told eight of the strongest carls present to step forward and lean their shoulders against the door, but make no stir until he gave a sign; then when he cried "Now!" they should burst it open with all their force.

As to the young Prince, he was trembling like an aspen leaf, and his weakness was so great that two young men had to support him. In short, as all present gradually stole closer and closer up to the door of Sidonia's room, the old knight drew forth his lantern, and signed to the men, who stood with their shoulders pressed against it; then when all was ready, he cried "Now!" and the door burst open with a loud crash. Every lock, and bar, and bolt shivered to atoms, and in rushed the whole party, Ulrich at their head, with his lantern lifted high up above them all.

Sidonia and her visitor were standing in the middle of the room. Ulrich first flashed the light upon the face of the man. Who would have believed it?—no other than Johann Appelmann! The knight hit him a heavy blow across the face, exclaiming, "What! thou common horse-jockey—thou low-born varlet—is it thus thou bringest disgrace upon a maiden of the noblest house in Pomerania? Ha, thou shalt be paid for this. Wait! Master Hansen shall give thee some of his gentle love-touches this night!"

But meanwhile the young Prince had entered, and beheld Sidonia, as she stood there trembling from shame, and endeavouring to cover her face with her long, beautiful golden hair that fell almost to her knees. "Sidonia!" he exclaimed, with a cry as bitter as if a dagger had passed through his heart—"Sidonia!" and fell insensible before her.

Now a great clamour arose amongst the crowd, for beside the couch lay the helmet and cuirass of the ghost; so every one knew now who it was that had played this trick on them for so long, and kept the castle in such a state of terror.

Then they gathered round the poor young Prince, who lay there as stiff as a corpse, and lamented over him with loud lamentations, and some of them lifted him up to carry him out of the chamber; but the Grand Chamberlain sternly commanded them to lay him down again before his bride, whom he had arranged to wed privately at Crummyn on the following night. Then seizing Sidonia by the hand, and dashing back her long hair, he led her forward before all the people, and said with a loud voice, "See here the illustrious and high-born Lady Sidonia, of the holy Roman Empire, Duchess of Pomerania, Cassuben, and Wenden, Princess of Rügen, Countess of Gützkow, and our Serene and most Gracious Lady, how she honours the princely house of Pomerania by sharing her love with this stable groom, this tailor's son, this debauched profligate! Oh! I could grow mad when I think of this disgrace. Thou shameless one! have I not long ago given thee thy right name? But wait—the name shall be branded on thee this night, so that all the world may read it."

Just then her Grace entered with Clara, followed by all the other maids of honour; for, hearing the noise and tumult, they had hastened thither as they were, some half undressed, others with only a loose night-robe flung round them. And her Grace, seeing the young lord lying pale and insensible on the ground, wrung her hands and cried out, "Who has killed my son? who has murdered my darling child?"

Here stepped forward Ulrich, and said, "The young lord was not dead; but, if it so pleased God, was in a fair way now to regain both life and reason." Then he related all which had led to this discovery; and how they had that night been themselves the witnesses of Sidonia's wickedness with the false ghost. Now her Grace knew his secret, which he had not told until certain of success.

As he related all these things, her Grace turned upon Sidonia and spat on her; and the young lord, having recovered somewhat in consequence of the water they had thrown on him, cried out, "Sidonia! is it possible? No, Sidonia, it is not possible!"

The shameless hypocrite had now recovered her self-possession, and would have denied all knowledge of Appelmann, saying that he forced himself in when she chanced to open the door; but he, interrupting her, cried, "Does the girl dare to lay all the blame on me? Did you not press my hand there when you were lying after you fell from the stag? Did you not meet me afterwards in the lumber-room—that day of the hunt when Duke Barnim was here last?"

"No, no, no!" shrieked Sidonia. "It is a lie, an infamous lie!" But he answered, "Scream as you will, you cannot deny that this disguise of the ghost was your own invention to favour my visits to you. Did you not drop notes for me down on the coach, through the trap-door, fixing the nights when I might come? and bethink you of last night, when you sent me a note by your maid, wrapped up in a little horse-cloth which I had lent you for your cat, with the prayer that I would not fail to be with you that night nor the next"—Oh, just Heaven! to think that it was upon that very night that Clara should break her shoe-string, by which means the Almighty turned away ruin and disgrace from the ancient, illustrious, and princely house of Pomerania—all by a broken shoe-string! For if the ghost had remained away but that one night, or Clara had not broken her shoestring, Sidonia would have been Duchess of Pomerania; but what doth the Scripture say? "Man's goings are of the Lord. What man understandeth his own way?" (Prov. xx. 24).

When Sidonia heard him tell all this, and how she had written notes of entreaty to him, she screamed aloud, and springing at him like a wild-cat, buried her ten nails in his hair, shrieking, "Thou liest, traitor; it is false! it is false!"

Now Ulrich rushed forward, and seized her by her long hair to part them, but at that moment Master Hansen, the executioner, entered in his red cloak, with six assistants (for Ulrich had privately sent for him), and the Grand Chamberlain instantly let go his hold of Sidonia, saying, "You come in good time, Master Hansen; take away this wretched pair, lock them up in the bastion tower, and on the morn bring them to the horse-market by ten of the clock, and there scourge and brand them; then carry them both to the frontier out of our good State of Wolgast, and let them both go their ways from that, whither it may please them."

When Sidonia heard this, she let go her paramour and fell fainting upon the bed; but recovering herself in a little time, she exclaimed, "What is this you talk of? A noble maiden who is as innocent as the child in its cradle, to be scourged by the common executioner? Oh, is there no Christian heart here to take pity on a poor, helpless girl! Gracious young Prince, even if all the world hold me guilty, you cannot, no, you cannot; it is impossible!"

Hereupon the young lord began to tremble like an aspen leaf, and said in a broken voice, "Alas, Sidonia! you betrayed yourself: if you had not mentioned that trap-door to me, I might still have believed you innocent (I, who thought some good angel had guided you to it!); now it is impossible; yet be comforted, the executioner shall never scourge you nor brand you—you are branded enough already." Then turning to the Grand Chamberlain he said, that with his consent a hangman should never lay his hands upon this nobly born maiden, whom he had once destined to be Duchess of Pomerania; but Appelmann, this base-born vassal, who had eaten of his bread and then betrayed him like a Judas, let him be flogged and branded as much as they pleased; no word of his should save the accursed seducer from punishment.

Notwithstanding this, old Ulrich was determined on having Sidonia scourged, and my gracious lady the Duchess must have her scourged too. "Let her dear son only think that if the all-merciful God had not interposed, he would have been utterly ruined and his princely house disgraced, by means of this girl. Nothing but evil had she brought with her since first she set foot in the castle: she had caused his sickness; item, the death of two young knights by drowning; item, the terrible execution of Joachim Budde, who was beheaded at the festival; and had she not, in addition, whipped her dear little Casimir, which unseemly act had only lately come to her knowledge? and had she not also made every man in the castle that approached her mad for love of her, all by her diabolical conduct? No—away with the wretch: she merits her chastisement a thousand and a thousand-fold!" And old Ulrich exclaimed likewise, "Away with the wretch and her paramour!"

Here the young lord made an effort to spring forward to save her, but fell fainting on the ground; and while the attendants were busy running for water to throw over him, Clara von Dewitz, turning away the executioner with her hand from Sidonia, fell down on her knees before her Grace, and besought her to spare at least the person of the poor, unfortunate maiden; did her Grace think that any punishment could exceed what she had already suffered? Let her own compassionate heart plead along with her words—and did not the Scripture say, "Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord."

Hereupon her Grace looked at old Ulrich without speaking; but he understood her glance, and made answer—"No; the hangman must do his duty towards the wretch!" when her Grace said mildly, "But for the sake of this dear, good young maiden, I think we might let her go, for, remember, if she had not opened out this villainy to us, the creature would have been my daughter-in-law, and my princely house disgraced for evermore."

Now Marcus Bork stepped forward, and added his prayers that the noble name he bore might not be disgraced in Sidonia. "He had ever been a faithful feudal vassal to her princely house, and had not even scrupled to bring the secret wicked deeds of his cousin before the light of day, though it was like a martyrdom of his own flesh and blood for conscience' sake."

Here old Ulrich burst forth in great haste—"Seven thousand devils! Let the wench be off, then. Not another night should she rest in the castle. Let her speak—where would she go to? where should they bring her to?"

And when Sidonia answered, sobbing, "To Stettin, to her gracious lord, Duke Barnim, who would take pity on her because of her innocence," Ulrich laughed outright in scorn. "I shall give the driver a letter to him, and another to thy father. Perhaps his Grace will show thee true pity, and drive thee with his horsewhip to Stramehl. But thou shalt journey in the same coach whereon thy leman clambered up to the trap-door, and Master Hansen shall sit on the coach-box and drive thee himself. As to thy darling stablegroom here, the master must set his mark on him before he goes; but that can be done when the hangman returns from Stettin."

When Appelmann heard this, he fell at the feet of the Lord Chamberlain, imploring him to let him off too. "Had he not ridden to Spantekow, without stop or stay, at the peril of his life, to oblige Lord Ulrich that time the Lapland wizard made the evil prophecy; and though his illustrious lady died, yet that was from no fault of his, and his lordship had then promised not to forget him if he were but in need. So now he demanded, on the strength of his knightly word, that a horse should be given him from the ducal stables, and that he be permitted to go forth, free and scathless, to ride wherever it might please him. His sins were truly heavy upon him, and he would try and do better, with the help of God."

When the old knight heard him express himself in this godly sort (for the knave knew his man well), he was melted to compassion, and said, "Then go thy way, and God give thee grace to repent of thy manifold sins."

Her Grace had nothing to object; only to put a fixed barrier between the Prince and Sidonia, she added, "But send first for Dr. Gerschovius, that he may unite this shameless pair in marriage before they leave the castle, and then they can travel away together."

Hereupon Johann Appelmann exclaimed, "No, never! How could he hope for God's grace to amend him, living with a thing like that, tied to him for life, which God and man alike hold in abhorrence?" At this speech Sidonia screamed aloud, "Thou lying and accursed stable-groom, darest thou speak so of a castle and land dowered maiden?" and she flew at him, and would have torn his hair, but Marcus Bork seized hold of her round the waist, and dragged her with great effort into Clara's room.

Now the tears poured from the eyes of her Grace at such a disgraceful scene, and she turned to her son, who was slowly recovering—"Hast thou heard, Ernest, this groom—this servant of thine—refuses to take the girl to wife whom thou wast going to make Duchess of Pomerania? Woe! woe! what words for thy poor mother to hear; but it was all foreshadowed when Dr. Luther—" &c. &c.

In short, the end of the infamous story was, that Sidonia was carried off that very night in the identical coach we know of, and Master Hansen was sent with her, bearing letters to the Duke and Otto from the Grand Chamberlain, and one also to the burgomaster Appelmann in Stargard; and the executioner had strict orders to drive her himself the whole way to Stettin. As for Appelmann, he sprung upon a Friesland clipper, as the old chamberlain had permitted, and rode away that same night. But the young lord was so ill from grief and shame, that he was lifted to his bed, and all the medici of Grypswald and Wolgast were summoned to attend him.

And such was the end of Sidonia von Bork at the ducal court of Wolgast. But old Küssow told me that for a long while she was the whole talk of the court and town, many wondering, though they knew well her light behaviour, that she should give herself up to perdition at last for a common groom, no better than a menial compared to her. But I find the old proverb is true for her as well as for another, "The apple falls close to the tree; as is the sheep, so is the lamb;" for had her father brought her up in the fear of God, in place of encouraging her in revenge, pride, and haughtiness, Sidonia might have been a good and honoured wife for her life long. But the libertine example of her father so destroyed all natural instincts of modesty and maidenly reserve within her, that she fell an easy prey to the first temptation.

In short, my gracious Prince Bogislaus XIV., as well as all those who love and honour the illustrious house of Wolgast, will devoutly thank God for having turned away this disgrace in a manner so truly wonderful.

I have already spoken of the broken shoe-tie, but in addition, I must point out that if Sidonia had counselled her paramour to take the armour of Duke Philip, which hung in the same lumber-room, in place of that belonging to the serpent knight, that wickedness would never have come to light. For assuredly all in the castle would have believed that it was truly the ghost of the dead duke, who came to reproach his son for not holding the oath which he had sworn on his coffin, to abandon Sidonia. And consequently, respect and terror would have alike prevented any human soul in the castle from daring to follow it, and investigate its object. Therefore let us praise the name of the Lord who turned all things to good, and fulfilled, in Sidonia and her lover, the Scripture which saith, "Thinking themselves wise, they became fools" (Rom. i. 21).