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Sidonia The Sorceress
By William Mienhold
VOLUME I
BOOK II.
CHAPTER VIII.
How Johann and Sidonia meet an adventure, at Alten Damm--Item, of their reception by the robber-band.
Now Johann Appelmann had a grudge against the newly appointed equerry to his Highness, for the man had swilled his claret, and been foremost in his promises, and yet now had stepped into the place himself, and left Johann in the lurch. The knave, therefore, determined on revenge; so invented a story, how that his father, old Appelmann, had sent for him to give him half of all he was worth, and as he must journey to Stargard directly, he prayed his friend the equerry to lend him a couple of horses and a waggon out of the ducal stables, with harness and all that would be necessary, swearing that when he brought them back he would give him and his other friends such a carouse at the inn, as they had never yet had in their lives.
And when the other asked, would not one horse be sufficient, Johann replied no, that he required the waggon for his luggage, and two horses would be necessary to draw it. Summa, the fool gives him two beautiful Andalusian stallions, with harness and saddles; item, a waggon, whereon my knave mounted next morning early, with Sidonia and her luggage, and took the miller, Konneman, with him as driver.
But as they passed through Alten Damm, a strange adventure happened, whereby the all-merciful God, no doubt, wished to turn them from their evil way; but they flung His warnings to the wind.
For the carl was going to be executed who belonged to the robber-band, that had committed a burglary there, in the town, some days previously. However, the gallows having been blown down by a storm, the linen-weavers, according to old usage, came to erect another. This angered the millers, who also began to erect one of their own, declaring that the weavers had only a right to supply the ladder, but they were to erect the gallows. A great fight now arose between weavers and millers, while the poor thief stood by with his hands tied behind his back, and arrayed in his winding-sheet. But the sheriffs, and whatever other honourable citizens were by, having in vain endeavoured to appease the quarrel, returned to the inn, to take the advice of the honourable council.
Just at this moment Johann and Sidonia drove into the middle of the crowd, and the former leaped off and laughed heartily, for a miller had thrown down a poor lean weaver close behind the criminal, and was belabouring him stoutly with his floured fists, whilst the poor wretch screamed loudly for succour or assistance to the criminal, who answered in his Platt Deutsch, "I cannot help thee, friend, for, see, my hands are bound." Upon this, Johann draws his knife from his girdle, and slipping behind the felon, cuts the ropes binding him.
He straightway, finding himself free, jumped upon the miller, and turned the flour all red upon his face with his heavy blows. Then he ran towards the waggon, but the guardsman caught hold of him by the shoulder, so the poor wretch left the winding-sheet in his hand, and jumping, naked as he was, on the back of one of the horses, set off, at top speed, to the forest, with Sidonia screaming and roaring fleeing with him.
Millers and weavers now left off their wrangling, and joined together in pursuit, but in vain; the fellow soon distanced them all, and was lost to sight in the wood.
When he had driven the waggon a good space, and still hearing the roaring of the people in pursuit, he stopped the horses, and jumped off, to take to his heels amongst the trees. Whereupon Konneman threw him a horse-cloth from the waggon, bidding him cover himself with it; so the carl snapped it up, and rolled it about his body with all alacrity. Now this horse-cloth was embroidered with the Pomeranian arms, and the poor Adam looked so absurd running away in such a garment, that Sidonia, notwithstanding all her fright, could not help bursting into a loud mocking laughter.
Whereupon the crowd came up, cursing, swearing, and cursing, that the thief had escaped them; Johann Appelmann, who was amongst them, and was just in the act of stepping up to the waggon, when Prince Johann Frederick and a company of carbineers galloped up along with the chief equerry and a large retinue, all on their way to Friedrichswald.
The Duke stopped to hear the cause of the tumult, and when they told him, he laughingly said, he would soon return with the gallows-knaves; then, turning to Appelmann, he asked who he was, and what brought him there?
When Johann gave his name, and said he was going to Stargard, his Grace exclaimed, with surprise--
"So thou art the knave of whom I have heard so much; and this woman here, I suppose, is Sidonia? Pity of her. She is a handsome wench, I see."
Then, as Sidonia blushed and looked down, he continued--
"And where did the fellow get these fine horses? Would he sell them?"
Now Appelmann had a great mind to tell the truth, and say he got them from the equerry, who was already turning white with pure fear; but recollecting that he might come in for some of the punishment himself, besides hoping to play a second trick upon his Highness, he answered, that his father at Stargard had made them a present to him.
The Duke, now turning to his equerry, asked him--
"Would not these horses match his Andalusian stallions perfectly?"
And as the other tremblingly answered, "Yes, perfectly," his Grace demanded if the knave would sell them.
Ille.--"Oh yes; to gratify his Serene Highness the Duke, he would sell the horses for 3000 florins."
"Let it be so," said the Duke; "but I must owe thee the money, fellow."
Ille.--"Then he would not make the bargain, for he wanted the money directly to take him to Stargard."
So the Duke frowned that he would not trust his own Prince; and as Appelmann attempted to move off with the waggon, his Highness took his plumed cap from his head, and cutting off the diamond agrafe with his dagger, flung it to him, exclaiming--
"Stay! take these jewels, they are worth 1300 florins, but leave me the horses."
Now the chief equerry nearly fell from his horse with shame as the knave picked up the agrafe, and shoved it into his pocket, then humbly addressing his Highness, prayed for permission just to leave the maiden and her luggage in Stargard, and then he would return instantly with both horses, and bring them himself to his gracious Highness at Friedrichswald.
The Duke having consented, the knave sprang up upon the waggon, and turning off to another road, drove away as hard as he could from the scene of this perilous adventure. After some time he whistled, but receiving no response, kept driving through the forest until evening, when a loud, shrill whistle at last replied to his, and on reaching a cross-road, he found the whole band dancing with great merriment round a large sign-board which had been stuck up there by the authorities, and on which was painted a gipsy lying under the gallows, while the executioner stood over him in the act of applying the torture, and beneath ran the inscription--
"Gipsy! from Pomerania flee, Or thus it shall be done to thee."
These words the robber crew had set to some sort of rude melody, and now sang it and danced to it round the sign, the fellow with the horse-cloth in the midst of them, the merriest of them all.
The moment they got a glimpse of their captain, men, women, and children ran off like mad to the waggon, clapping their hands and shouting, "Huzzah! huzzah! what a noble captain! Had he brought them anything to drink?" And when he said "Yes," and handed out three barrels of wine, there was no end to the jubilee of cheering. Then he must give them handsel, and after that they would make a large fire and swear fealty to him round it, as was the manner of the gipsies, for the band was mostly composed of gipsies, and numbered about fifty men altogether.
Summa.--A great fire was kindled, round which they all took the oath of obedience to their captain, and he swore fidelity to them in return. Then a couple of deer were roasted; and after they had eaten and drunk, the singing and dancing round the great sign-board was resumed, until the broad daylight glanced through the trees.
People may see from this to what a pitch of lawlessness and disorder the land came under the reign of Duke Johann. For, methinks, these robbers would never have dared to make such a mock of the authorities, only that my Lord Duke had shut up all the courts of justice in the kingdom.
During their jollity, our knave Appelmann cast his eyes upon a gipsy maiden, called the handsome Sioli; a tall, dark-eyed wench, but with scarcely a rag to cover her. Therefore he bade Sidonia run to her luggage, and take out one of her own best robes for the girl; but Sidonia turned away in great wrath, exclaiming--
"This was the way he kept his promise to her. She had given him all, and followed him even hither, and yet he cared more for a ragged gipsy girl than for her. But she would go away that very night, anywhere her steps might lead her, if only away from her present misery. Let him give her the Duke's diamonds, and she would leave him all the herons' feathers, and never come near him any more."
But my knave only laughed, and bid her come take the diamonds if she wanted them, they were in his bosom. Then the gipsy girl and her mother, old Ussel, began to mock the fine lady. So Sidonia sat there weeping and wringing her hands, while Johann laughed, danced, drank, and kissed the gipsy wench, and finally threatened to go and take a robe himself out of the luggage, if Sidonia did not run for one instantly.
However, she would not stir; so Konnemann, the miller, took pity on her, and would have remonstrated, but Johann cut him short, saying--
"What the devil did he mean? Was he not the captain? and why should Konnemann dare to interfere with him?"
Then he strode over to the waggon to plunder Sidonia's baggage, which, when she observed, her heart seemed to break, and she kneeled down, lifted up her hands, and prayed thus:--
"Merciful Creator, I know Thee not, for my hard and unnatural father never brought me to Thee; therefore on his head be my sins. But if Thou hast pity on the young ravens, who likewise know Thee not, have pity upon me, and help me to leave this robber den with Thy gracious help."
Here such a shout of laughter resounded from all sides, that she sprang up, and seizing the best bundle in the waggon, plunged into the wood, with loud cries and lamentation; whilst Appelmann only said--
"Never heed her, let her do as she pleases; she will be back again soon enough, I warrant."
Accordingly, scarcely an hour had elapsed, when the unhappy maiden appeared again, to the great amusement of the whole band, who mocked her yet more than before. She came back crying and lamenting--
"She could go no further, for the wolves followed her, and howled round her on all sides. Ah! that she were a stone, and buried fathoms deep in the earth! That shameless knave, Appelmann, might indeed have pitied her, if he hoped for pity from God; but had he not taken her robe to put it on the gipsy beggar? She nearly died of shame at the sight. But she would never forgive the beggar's brat to the day of judgment for it. All she wanted now was some good Christian to guide her out of the wild forest. Would no one come with her? that was all she asked."
And so she went on crying, and lamenting in the deepest grief.
Summa.--When the knave heard all this, his heart seemed to relent; perhaps he dreaded the anger of her relations if she were treated too badly, or, mayhap, it was compassion, I cannot say; but he sprang up, kissed her, caressed her, and consoled her.
"Why should she leave them? He would remain faithful and constant to her, as he had sworn. Why should the gown for the beggar-girl anger her? When they get the herons' feathers on the morrow, he would buy her ten new gowns for the one he had taken." And so he continued in his old deceiving way, till she at last believed him, and was comforted.
Here the roll of a carriage was heard, and as many of the band as were not quite drunk seized their muskets and pikes, and rushed in the direction of the sound. But behold, the waggon and horses, with all Sidonia's luggage, was off! For, in truth, the equerry, seeing Johann's treachery, had secretly followed him, hiding himself in the bushes till it grew dark, but near enough to observe all that was going on; then, watching his opportunity, and knowing the robbers were all more or less drunk, he sprang upon the waggon, and galloped away as hard as he could. Johann gave chase for a little, but the equerry had got too good a start to be overtaken; and so Johann returned, cursing and raging, to the band. Then they all gathered round the fire again, and drank and caroused till morning dawned, when each sought out a good sleeping-place amongst the bushwood. There they lay till morn, when Johann summoned them to prepare for their excursion to the Duke's gardens at Zachan.