Sidonia, the Sorceress Volume I Part 14

Then each man let his dog bite at the entrails of a stag, while they repeated old charms and verses over them, such as:--

"Diana, no better e'er track'd a wood; There's many a huntsman not half so good."

Or, in Low German:--

"Wa.s.ser, if ever the devil you see, Bite his leg for him, or he will bite me."

These old rhymes pleased the young Casimir mightily: if his lady mother would only lend him a ribbon, he would lead up little Blaffert his dog to them, and have a rhyme said over him. So her Grace consented, and broke off her sandal-tie to fasten in the little dog's collar, because in her hurry she could find no other string, and left the tent herself with the child to conduct him to the huntsmen.

Now the moment her Grace had taken her eyes off Sidonia, and that all the other ladies had left the tent to follow her and the little boy, who was laughing and playing with his dog, the young maiden, looking round to see that no one was observing her, slipped out and ran in amongst the bushes, and my lord, Prince Ernest, slipped after her. No one observed them, for all eyes were turned upon the princely child, who sprang to a huntsman and begged of him to say a rhyme or two over his little dog Blaffert.

The carl rubbed his forehead, and at last gave out his psalm, as follows, in Low German:--

"Blaffert, Blaffert, thou art fat!

If my lord would only feed All his people like to that 'Twould be well for Pommern's need."

[Footnote: Pomerania.]

All the bystanders laughed heartily, and then the hounds were given their dinner according to the usage, which was this:--A number of oak and birch trees were felled, and over every two and two there was spread a tablecloth--that is, the warm skin of a deer or wild-boar; into this, as into a wooden trencher, was poured the warm blood of the wild animals, which the hounds lapped up, while forty huntsmen played a march with drums and trumpets, which was re-echoed from the neighbouring wood, to the great delight of all the listeners. When the hounds had lapped up all the blood, they began to eat up the tablecloths likewise; but as these belonged to the huntsmen, a great fight took place between them and the dogs for the skins, which was right merry to behold, and greatly rejoiced the ducal party and all the people.

In the meantime, as I said, Sidonia had slipped into the wood, and the young lord after her. He soon found her resting under the shadow of a large nut-tree, and the following conversation took place between them, as he afterwards many times related:--

"Alas, gracious Prince, why do you follow me? if your lady mother knew of this we should both suffer. My head ached after all that firing, and therefore I came hither to enjoy a little rest and quietness. Leave me, leave me, my gracious lord."

"No, no, he would not leave her until she told him whether she still loved him; for his lady mother watched him day and night, like the dragon that guarded the Pomeranian arms, and until this moment he had never seen her alone."

"But what could he now desire to say? Had he not sworn by the corpse of his father never to wed her?"

"Yes; in a moment of anguish he had sworn it, because he would have died if she had not been brought back to the castle."

"But still he must hold by his word to his lady mother, would he not?"

"Impossible! all impossible! He would sooner renounce land and people for ever than his beautiful Sidonia. How he felt, for the first time, the truth of the holy words, 'Love is strong as death.'" [Footnote: Song of Solomon viii. 6.] Then he throws his arms round her and kissed her, and asked, would she be his?

Here Sidonia covered her face with both hands, and sinking down upon the gra.s.s, murmured, "Yours alone, either you or death."

The Prince threw himself down beside her, and besought her not to weep. "He could not bear to see her tears; besides, there was good hope for them yet, for he had spoken to old Zitsewitz, who wished them both well, and who had given him some good advice."

_Sidonia_ (quickly removing her hands).--"What was it?"

"To have a private marriage. Then the devil himself could not separate them, much less the old bigot Ulrich. There was a priest in the neighbourhood, of the name of Neigialink. He lived in Crummyn, [Footnote: A town near Wolgast.] with a nun whom he had carried off from her convent and married; therefore he would be able to sympathise with lovers, and would help them."

"But his Highness should remember his kingly state, and not bring misery on them both for ever."

"He had considered all that, they should therefore keep this marriage private for a year; she could live at Stramehl during that period, and receive his visits without his mother knowing of the matter. At the end of that year he would be of age, and his own master."

_Sidonia_ (embracing him).--"Ah, if he really loved her so, then the sooner the better to the church. But let him take care that evil-minded people would not separate them for ever, and bring her to an early grave. Had the priest been informed that he would be required to wed them?"

"Not yet; but if he continued as strong as he felt to-day, he would ride over to Crummyn himself (for it was quite near to Wolgast) the moment Duke Barnim and her father quitted the castle."

"But how would she know the result of his visit? his mother watched her day and night. Could he send a page or a serving-maid to her?--though indeed there were none now he could trust, for Ulrich had dismissed all her good friends. And if he came himself to her room, evil might be spoken of it."

"He had arranged all that already. There was the bear, as she remembered, chained upon the little island in the horse-pond, just under her window. Now when he returned from Crummyn, he would go out by seven in the morning, before his lady mother began her spinning, and commence shooting arrows at the bear, by way of sport; then, as if by chance, he would let fly an arrow at her window and shiver the gla.s.s, but the arrow would contain a little note, detailing his visit to the priest at Crummyn, and the arrangement he had made for carrying her away secretly from the castle. She must take care, however, to move away her seat from the window, and place it in a corner, lest the arrow might strike herself."

But then a loud "Sidonia! Sidonia!" resounded through the wood, and immediately after, "Ernest! Ernest!"

So she sprang up, and cried, "Run, dearest Prince, run as fast as you are able, to the other side, where the huntsmen are gathering, and mix with them, so that her Grace may not perceive you." This he did, and began to talk to the huntsmen about their dogs and the sweep of the chase, and as her Grace continued calling "Ernest!

Ernest!" he stepped slowly towards her out of the crowd, and asked what was her pleasure? So she suspected nothing, and grew quite calm again.

Duke Barnim now began to complain of hunger, and asked her Grace where she meant to serve them a collation, for he could never hold out until they reached Wolgast, and his friend Otto also was growing as ravenous as a wolf.

Her Grace answered, the collation was laid in the Cisan tower, close beside them, and as the weather was good, his Grace could amuse himself with the _tub.u.m optic.u.m_, which a Pomeranian n.o.ble had bought in Middelburg from one Johann Lippersein, [Footnote: An optician, and the probable inventor of the telescope, which was first employed about the end of the sixteenth and the beginning of the seventeenth century.] and presented to her. By the aid of this telescope he would see as far as his own town of Stettin. Neither the Duke nor Otto Bork believed it possible to see Stettin, at the distance of thirteen or fourteen miles, with any instrument. But her Grace, who had heard of Otto's G.o.dless infidelity, rebuked him gravely, saying, "You will soon be convinced, sir knight; so we often hold that to be impossible in spiritual matters, which becomes not only possible, but certain, when we look through the telescope which the Holy Spirit presents to us, weak and short-sighted mortals. G.o.d give to every infidel such a _tub.u.m optic.u.m_!" The Duke, fearing now that her Grace would continue her sermon indefinitely, interrupted her in his jesting way--"Listen, dear cousin! I will lay a wager with you. If I cannot see Stettin, as you promise, you shall give me a kiss; but if I see it and recognise it clearly, then I shall give you a kiss."

Her Grace was truly scandalised, as one may imagine, and replied angrily--"Good uncle! if you attempt to offer such indignities to me, the princely widow, I must pray your Grace to leave my court with all speed, and never to return!" This rebuke made every one grave until they reached the Cisan tower. This building lay only half a mile from the hunting-ground, and was situated on the summit of the Cisanberg, from whence its name. It was built of wood, and contained four stories, besides excellent stabling for horses. The apartments were light, airy, and elegant, so that her Grace frequently pa.s.sed a portion of the summer time there. The upper story commanded a view of the whole adjacent country. At the foot of the hill ran the little river Cisa into the Peen, and many light, beautiful bridges were thrown over it at different points.

The hill itself was finely wooded with pines and other trees, and the tower was made more light and airy than that which Duke Johann Frederick afterwards erected at Friedrichswald, and commanded a far finer prospect, seeing that the Cisanberg is the highest hill in Pomerania.

While the party proceeded to the tower, Sidonia rode along by her father, and to judge from her animation and gestures, she was, no doubt, communicating to him all that the young lord had promised, and her hopes, in consequence, that a very short period would elapse before he might salute her as d.u.c.h.ess of Pomerania.

When they reached the tower, all admired the view even from the lower window, for they could see the Peen, the Achterwa.s.ser, and eight or nine towns, besides the sea in the distance. I say nothing of Wolgast, which seemed to lie just beneath their feet, with its princely castle and cathedral perfectly distinct, and all its seats laid out like a map, where they could even distinguish the people walking. Then her Grace bade them ascend to the upper story, and look out for Stettin, but they sought for it in vain with their una.s.sisted eyes; then her Grace placed the _tub.u.m optic.u.m_ before the Duke, and no sooner had he looked through it than he cried out, "As I live, Otto, there is my strong tower of St. James's, and my ducal castle to the left, lying far behind the Finkenwald mountain." But the unbelieving Thomas laughed, and only answered, "My gracious Prince! do not let yourself be so easily imposed upon."

Hereupon the Duke made him look through the telescope himself; and no sooner had he applied his eye to the gla.s.s than he jumped back, rubbed his eyes, looked through a second time, and then exclaimed--

"Well, as true as my name is Otto Bork, I never could have believed this."

"Now, sir knight," said her Grace, "so it is with you as concerns spiritual things. How if you should one day find that to be true which your infidelity now presumptuously a.s.serts to be false? Will not your repentance then be bitter? If you have found my words true--the words of a poor, weak, sinful woman, will you not much more find those of the holy Son of G.o.d? Yes, to your horror and dismay, you will find His words to be truth, of whom even His enemies testified that He never lied--Matt. xxii. 16. Tremble, sir knight, and bethink you that what often seems impossible to man is possible to G.o.d."

The bold knight was now completely silenced, and the good-natured Duke, seeing that he had not a word to say in reply, advanced to his rescue, and changed the conversation by saying--

"See, Otto, the wind seems so favourable just now, that I think we had better say '_Vale_' to our gracious hostess in the morning, and return to Stettin."

Not a word did his Grace venture to say more about the wager of the kisses, for his dear cousin's demeanour restrained even his hilarity. Otto had nothing to object to the arrangement; and her Grace said, if they were not willing longer to abide at her widowed court, she would bid them both G.o.dspeed upon their journey. "And you, sir knight, may take back your daughter Sidonia, for our dear son, as you may perceive, is now quite restored, and no longer needs her nursing. For the good deed she has wrought in curing him, I shall recompense her as befits me.

But at my court the maiden can no longer abide."

The knight was at first so thunderstruck by these words that he could not speak; but at last drawing himself up proudly, he said, "Good; I shall take the Lady Sidonia back with me to my castle; but as touching the recompense, keep it for those who need it."

Sidonia, however, remained quite silent, as did also the young lord.

But hear what happened. The festival lasted until late in the night, and then suddenly such a faintness and bodily weakness came over the young Prince Ernest that all the physicians had to be sent for; and they with one accord entreated her Grace, if she valued his life, not to send away Sidonia.

One can imagine what her Grace felt at this news. Nothing would persuade her to believe but that Sidonia had given him some witch-drink, such as the girl out of Daber had taught her to make.

No one could believe either that his Highness affected this sickness, in order to force his mother to keep Sidonia at the court; indeed, he afterwards strongly a.s.severated, and this at a time when he would have killed Sidonia with a look, if it had been possible, that this weakness came upon him suddenly like an ague, and that it could not have been caused by anything she had given him, for he had eaten nothing, except at the banquet at the Cisan tower.

In short, the young Prince became as bad as ever; but Sidonia never heeded him, only busied herself packing up her things, as if she really intended going away with Otto, and finally, as eight o'clock struck the next morning, she wrapped herself in her mantle and hood, and went with her father and Duke Barnim to take leave of her Grace. She looked as bitter and sour as a vinegar-cruet--nothing would tempt her to remain even for one day longer. What was her Grace to do? the young lord was dying, and had already despatched two pages to her, entreating for one sight of Sidonia! She must give the artful hypocrite good words--but they were of no avail--Sidonia insisted on leaving the castle that instant with her father; then turning to Duke Barnim, she exclaimed with bitter tears, "Now, gracious Prince, you see yourself how I am treated here."

Neither would the cunning Otto permit his daughter to remain on any account, unless, indeed, her Grace gave him a written authority to receive the dues on the Jena. Such shameless knavery at last enraged the old Duke Barnim to such a degree that he cried out--"Listen, Otto, my ill.u.s.trious cousin here has no more to do with the dues on the Jena than you have; they belong to me alone, and I can give no promise until I lay the question before my council and the diet of the Stettin dukedom: be content, therefore, to wait until then." One may easily guess what was the termination of the little drama got up by Otto and his fair daughter--namely, that Otto sailed away with the Duke, and that Sidonia remained at the court of Wolgast.