_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.