Thus did the brave Dinnies Kleist and Marcus Bork save the Prince and his bride, like true knights as they were; but Marcus is faint, and leans for support against the carriage, while before him lie three robber carls whom he had slain with his own hand, although he fought there only in his shirt; but the blessed cross had been his shield. And there, too, lay the gipsy's arm with the knife still clutched in the hand, but the hag herself had fled away; and round the brave Dinnies was a circle of dead men, seven in number, whom he and his followers had killed; and the earth all round looked like a ripe strawberry field, it was so red with blood.

One can imagine what joy filled the hearts of the princely pair, when they found that all their peril was past. They alighted from the coach, and when the Princess saw Marcus lying there in a dead faint, with his garment all covered with blood, she lamented loudly, and tore off her own veil to bind up his wounds, and brought wine from the carriage, which she poured herself through his lips, like a merciful Samaritan; and when he at last opened his eyes, and kissed the little hands of the Princess out of grat.i.tude, she rejoiced greatly. And the Prince himself ran to the wood for the portmanteau, which they found behind the oak, and helped to dress the poor knight, who was so weak that he could not raise a finger.

Then they lifted him into the coach, while the Prince comforted him, saying, he trusted that he would soon be well again, for he would pray daily to the Lord Jesus for him, whose blessed cross had been their protection, and that he should have all his gold again, and the lands of Crienke in addition. So faithful a va.s.sal must never be parted from his Prince, for inasmuch as he hated Sidonia, so he loved and praised him. They were like the two Judases in Scripture, of whom some one had said, "What one gave to the devil, the other brought back to G.o.d."

And now he saw the wonderful hand of G.o.d in all; for if it had not rained, the powder of the robber-band would have been dry, and then they were all lost. _Item_, the knight would not have stopped to empty his boots, and they never would have heard the screams of his dear wife. _Item_, if he had himself not forgotten the date, he would never have driven up close to the cross, which cross had saved them all, but, in particular, saved their dear Marcus, after a miraculous manner. "Look how the blessed wood is everywhere pierced with spears, and yet we are all living! Therefore let us hope in the Lord, for He is our helper and defender!"

Then the Duke turned to the stout Dinnies, and prayed him to enter his service, but in vain, for he was sworn va.s.sal to his Highness of Stettin. So his Grace took off his golden collar, and put it on his neck, and the Princess drew off her diamond ring to give him, whereupon her spouse laughed heartily, and asked, Did she think the good knight had a finger for her little ring? To which she replied, But the brave knight may have a dear wife who could wear it for her sake, for he must not go without some token of her grat.i.tude.

However, the knight put back the ring himself, saying that he had no spouse, and would never have one; therefore the ring was useless. So the Princess wonders, and asks why he will have no spouse; to which he replied, that he feared the fate of Samson, for had not love robbed him of his strength? He, too, might meet a Delilah, who would cut off his long hair. Then riding up close to the carriage, he removed his plumed hat from his head, and down fell his long black hair, that was gathered up under it, over his shoulders like a veil, even till it swept the flanks of his horse.

Would not her Grace think it a grief and sorrow if a woman sheared those locks? In such pleasant discourse they reached Mutzelburg, where, as the good Marcus was so weak, they resolved to put up for the night, and send for a chirurgeon instantly to Uckermund. And so it was done.

CHAPTER XI.

_Of the amba.s.sadors in the tavern of Mutzelburg--Item, how the miller, Konnemann, is discovered, and made by Dinnies Kleist to act as guide to the robber cave, where they find all the women-folk lying apparently dead, through some devil's magic of the gipsy mother._

When their Highnesses entered the inn at Mutzelburg, they found it filled with burghers and peasants out of Uckermund, Pasewalk, and other adjacent places, on their way to Stettin, to pet.i.tion his Grace the Duke to open the courts of justice, for thieves and robbers had so multiplied throughout the land, that no road was safe; and all kinds of witchcraft, and imposture, and devil's work were so rife, that the poor people were plagued out of their lives, and no redress was to be had, seeing his Grace had closed all the courts of justice. Forty burghers had been selected to present the pet.i.tion, and great was the joy to meet now with his Grace Prince Ernest, for a.s.suredly he would give them a letter to his ill.u.s.trious brother, and strengthen the prayer of their pet.i.tion. The Prince readily promised to do this, particularly as his own life and that of his bride had just been in such sore peril, all owing to the obstinacy of his Grace of Stettin in not opening the courts.

Meanwhile the leech had visited good Marcus Bork, who was much easier after his wounds were dressed, and promised to do well, to the great joy of their Graces; and Dinnies Kleist went to the stable to see after his horse, there being so many there, in consequence of this gathering of envoys, that he feared they might fight. Now, as he pa.s.sed through the kitchen, the knight observed a man bargaining with the innkeeper; and he had a kettle before him, into which he was cramming sausages, bread, ham, and all sorts of eatables. But he would have taken no further heed, only that the carl had but one tail to his coat, which made the knight at once recognise him as the very fellow whose coat-tail he had hewed off in the forest. He sprang on him, therefore; and as the man drew his knife, Dinnies seized hold of him and plumped him down, head foremost, into a hogshead of water, holding him straight up by the feet till he had drunk his fill. So the poor wretch began to quiver at last in his death agonies; whereupon the knight called out, "Wilt thou confess? or hast thou not drunk enough yet?"

"He would confess, if the knight promised him life. His name was Konnemann; he had lost his mill and all he was worth, by the Loitz bankruptcy, therefore had joined the robber-band, who held their meeting in an old cave in the forest, where also they kept their booty." On further question, he said it was an old, ruined place, with the walls all tumbling down. A man named Muckerwitze had lived there once, who buried his wife alive in this cave, therefore it had been deserted ever since.

Then the knight asked the innkeeper if he knew of such a place in the forest; who said, "Yes." Then he asked if he knew this fellow, Konnemann; but the host denied all knowledge of him (though he knew him well enough, I think). Upon which Konnemann said, "That he merely came to buy provisions for the band, who were hungry, and had despatched him to see what he could get, while they remained hiding in the cave." The knight having laid these facts before their Graces and the envoys, it was agreed that they should steal a march upon the robbers next morning, and meanwhile keep Konnemann safe under lock and key.

Next morning they set off by break of day, taking Konnemann as guide, and surrounded the old ruin, which lay upon a hill buried in oak-trees; but not a sound was heard inside. They approached nearer--listened at the cave--nothing was to be heard. This angered Dinnies Kleist, for he thought the miller had played a trick on them, who, however, swore he was innocent; and as the knight threatened to give him something fresh to drink in the castle well, he offered to light a pine torch and descend into the cave. Hardly was he down, however, when they heard him screaming--"The robbers have murdered the women--they are all lying here stone dead, but not a man is to be seen."

The knight then went down with his good sword drawn. True enough, there lay the old hag, her daughter, and Sidonia, all stained with blood, and stiff and cold, upon the damp ground. And when the knight asked, "Which is Sidonia?" the fellow put the pine torch close to her face, which was blue and cold. Then the knight took up her little hand, and dropped it again, and shook his head, for the said little hand was stiff and cold as that of a corpse.

_Summa_.--As there was nothing further to be done here, the knight left the corpses to moulder away in the old cellar, and returned with the burghers to Mutzelburg, when his Highness wondered much over the strange event; but Marcus rejoiced that his wicked cousin was now dead, and could bring no further disgrace upon his ancient name.

But was the wicked cousin dead? She had heard every word that had been said in the cave; for they had all drunk some broth made by the gipsy mother, which can make men seem dead, though they hear and see everything around them. Such devil's work is used by robbers sometimes in extremity, as some toads have the power of seeming dead when people attempt to seize them. It will soon be seen what a horrible use Sidonia made of this devil's potion.

Wherefore she tried its effect upon herself now, I know not--I have my own thoughts upon the subject--but it is certain that the innkeeper, who was a secret friend of the robbers (as most innkeepers were in those evil times), had sent a messenger by night to warn them of their danger. So, while the band saved themselves by hiding in the forest, perhaps the old hag recommended this plan for the women, as they had got enough of cold steel the day before; or perhaps the robbers wished to have a proof of the power of this draught, in case they might want to save themselves, some time or other, by appearing dead. Still I cannot, with any certainty, a.s.sert why they should all three choose to simulate death.

Further, just to show the daring of these robber-bands, now that his Highness had closed the courts, I shall end this chapter by relating what happened at Monkbude, a town through which their Highnesses pa.s.sed that same day, and which, although close to the Stettin border, belongs to Wolgast.

It was Sunday, and after the priest had said Amen from the pulpit, the s.e.xton rung the kale-bell. This bell was a sign throughout all Pomerania land, to the women-folk who were left at home in the houses, to prepare dinner; for then, in all the churches, the closing hymn began--"Give us, Lord, our daily bread." So the maid, at the first stroke of the bell, lifted off the kale-pot from the fire, and had the kale dished, with the sausages, and whatever else was wanting, by the time that the hymn was over, and father and mother had come out of church. Then, whatever poor wretch had fasted all the week, and never tasted a morsel of blessed bread, if he pa.s.sed on a Sunday through the town, might get his fill; for when the hymn is sung, "Give us, Lord, our daily bread," the doors lie open, and no stranger or wayfarer is turned away empty.

Just before their Highnesses had entered the town, this kale-bell had been rung, and each maid in the houses had laid the kale and meat upon the table, ready for the family, when, behold! in rush a troop of robbers from the forest, Appelmann at their head--seize every dish with the kale and meat that had been laid on the tables, stick the loaves into their pockets, and gallop away as hard as they can across into the Stettin border.

How the maids screamed and lamented I leave unsaid; but if any one of them followed and seized a robber by the hair, he drew his knife, so she was glad enough to run back again, while the impudent troop laughed and jeered. Thus was it then in dear Pomerania land! It seemed as if G.o.d had forsaken them; for the n.o.bles began their feuds, as of old, and the Jews were tormented even to the death--yea, even the pastors were chased away, as if, indeed, they had all learned of Otto Bork, these n.o.bles saying, "What need of these idle, prating swaddlers, with their prosy sermons and whining psalms, teaching, forsooth, that all men are equal, and that G.o.d makes no difference between lord and peasant?

Away with them! If the people learn such doctrine, no wonder if they grow proud and disobedient--better no priests in the land."

And such-like unG.o.dly talk was heard everywhere.

CHAPTER XII.

_How the peasants in Marienfliess want to burn a witch, but are hindered by Johann Appelmann and Sidonia, who discover an old acquaintance in the witch, the girl Wolde Albrechts._

At this time, one David Grosskopf was pastor of Marienfliess. He was a learned and pious man, and like other pious priests, was in the habit of gathering all the women-folk of the parish in his study of a winter's evening, particularly the young maidens, with their spinning-wheels. And there they all sat spinning round the comfortable fire, while he read out to them from G.o.d's Word, and questioned them on it, and exhorted them to their duties. Thus was it done every evening during the winter, the maidens spinning diligently till midnight without even growing weary; or if one of them nodded, she was given a cup of cold water to drink, to make her fresh again. So there was plenty of fine linen by each New Year's day, and their masters were well pleased. No peasant kept his daughter at home, but sent her to the priest, where she learned her duties, and was kept safe from the young men. Even old mothers went there, among whom Trina Bergen always gave the best answers, and was much commended by the priest in consequence. This pleased her mightily, so that she boasted everywhere of it; but withal she was an excellent old woman, only the neighbours looked rather jealously on her.

This same priest, with all his goodness and learning, was yet a bad logician; for by his careless speaking in one of his sermons, much commotion was raised in the village. In this sermon he a.s.serted that anything out of the usual course of nature must be devil's work, and ought to be held in abhorrence by all good Christians: he suffered for this after-wards, as we shall see. On the Monday after this discourse, he journeyed into Poland, to visit a brother who dwelt in some town there, I know not which.

Then arose a great talking amongst the villagers concerning the said Trina Bergen; for the c.o.c.ks began to sit upon the eggs in place of the hens, in her poultry-yard, and all the people came together to see the miracle, and as it was against the course of nature, it must be devil's work, and Trina Bergen was a witch.

In vain the old mother protested she knew nothing of it, then runs to the priest's house, but he is away; from that to the mayor of the village, but he is going out to shoot, and bid her and the villagers pack off with their silly stories.

So the poor old mother gets no help, and meanwhile the peasants storm her house, and search and ransack every corner for proofs of her witchcraft, but nothing can be found. Stay! there in the cellar sits a woman, who will not tell her name.

They drag her out, bring her up to the parlour, while the old mother sits wringing her hands. Who was this woman? and how did she come into the cellar?

_Illa_.--"She had hired her to spin, because her daughter was out at service till autumn, and she could not do all the work herself."

"Why then did she sit in the cellar, as if she shunned the light?"

_Illa_.--"The girl had prayed for leave to sit there, because the screaming of the young geese in the yard disturbed her; besides, she had been only two days with her."

"But who in the devil's name was the girl? It was easy to see she had bewitched the hens, for everything against the course of nature must be devil's work."

_Illa_.--"Ah, yes! this must be the truth. Let them chase the devil away. Now she saw why the girl would not sit in the light, and had refused to enter the blessed church with her the day before."

"What was her name? They should both be sent to the devil, if she did not tell the girl's name."

_Illa_.--"Alas! she had forgotten it, but ask herself. Her story was, that she had been married to a peasant in Usdom, who died lately, and his relations then turned her out, that she was now going to Daber, where she had a brother, a fisher in the service of the Dewitz family, and wanted to earn a travelling penny by spinning, to convey her there."

Now as the rumour of witchcraft spread through the village, all the people ran together, from every part, to Trina's house. And a pale young man pressed forward from amongst the crowd, to look at the supposed witch. When he stood before her, the girl cast down her eyes gloomily, and he cried out, "It is she! it is the very accursed witch who robbed me of my strength by her sorceries, and barely escaped from the f.a.got--seize her--that is Anna Wolde. Now he knew what the elder sticks meant, which he found set up as a gallows before his door this morning--the witch wanted to steal away his manhood from him again--burn her! burn her! Come and see the elder sticks, if they did not believe him!"

So the whole village ran to his cottage, where he had just brought home a widow, whom he was going to marry, and there indeed stood the elder sticks right before his door in the form of a gallows, upon which the sheriff was wroth, and commanded the girl to be brought before him with her hands bound.

But as she denied everything, Zabel Bucher, the sheriff, ordered the hangman to be sent for, to see what the rack might do in eliciting the truth. Further, he bade the people make a fire in the street, and burn the elder sticks therein.

So the fire is lit, but no one will touch the sticks. Then the sheriff called his hound and bade him fetch them; but Fixlein, who was acute enough at other times, pretended not to know what his master wanted. In vain the sheriff bent down on the ground, pointing with his finger, and crying, "Here, Fixlein! fetch, Fixlein!" No, Fixlein runs round and round the elder sticks till the dust rises up in a cloud, and yelps, and barks, and jumps, and stares at his master, but never touches the sticks, only at last seizes a stone in his mouth, and runs with it to the sheriff.

Now, indeed, there was a commotion amongst the people. Not even the dog would touch the accursed thing. So at last the sheriff called for a pair of tongs, to seize the sticks himself and fling them into the fire. Whereupon his wife screamed to prevent him; but the brave sheriff, strengthening his heart, advanced and touched them; whereupon Fixlein, as if he had never known until now what his master wanted, made a grab at them, but the sheriff gave him a blow on the nose with the tongs which sent him away howling, and then, with desperate courage and a stout heart, seizing the elder twigs in the tongs, flung them boldly into the fire.

Meanwhile Peter Bollerjahn, the hangman, has arrived, and when he hears of the devilry he shakes his head, but thinks he could make the girl speak, if they only let him try his way a little. But they must first get authority from the mayor. Now the mayor had not gone to the hunt, for some friends arrived to visit him, whom he was obliged to stay at home and entertain, so the whole crowd, with the sheriff, Zabel Bucher, at the head, set off to the mayoralty, bringing the witch with them, and prayed his lordship to make a terrible example of her, for that witchcraft was spreading fearfully in the land, and they would have no peace else.

Whereupon he came out with his guests to look at the miserable criminal, who, conscious of her guilt, stood there silent and glowering; but he could do nothing for them--did they not know that his Highness had closed all the courts of justice, therefore he could not help them, nor be troubled about their affairs? Upon which the sheriff cried out, "Then we shall help ourselves; let us burn the witch who bewitches our hens, and sticks up elder sticks before people's doors. Come, let us right ourselves!" So the mayor said they might do as they pleased, he had no power to hinder them, only let them remember that when the courts reopened, they would be called to a strict account for all this. And he went into his house, but the people shouted and dragged away the witch, with loud yells, to the hangman, bidding him stretch her on the rack before all their eyes.

When the girl saw and heard all this, and remembered how the old Lord Chamberlain at Wolgast had stretched her till her hip was broken, she cried out, "I will confess all, only spare me the torture, for I dread it more than death."