_Of the adventure with the boundary lads, and how one of them
promises to admit Johann Appelmann into the castle of Daber that
same night-Item, of what befell amongst the guests at the
castle._
When Johann and Sidonia proposed to the band that they should
pillage the castle of Daber, they all shouted with delight, and
swore that life and limb might be perilled, but the castle should
be theirs that night. Nevertheless my knave Johann thought it a
dangerous undertaking, for they knew no one inside the walls, and
Anna Wolde, the witch, could not come with them, seeing that she
was lame. So at last he thought of sending Konnemann disguised as
a beggar, to examine the courtyard and all the out
offices--perchance he might spy out some unguarded door by which
they could effect an entrance.
Then Sidonia said she would go too, and although Johann tried hard
to persuade her, yet she begged so earnestly for leave that
finally he consented. Yes, she must see the very spot where the
viper was hatched which had stung her to death. Ah, she would brew
something for her in return; pity only that the wedding was over,
otherwise the little bride should never have touched a
wedding-ring, if she could help it; but it was too late now.
So the three Satan's children slipped out upon the highway from
the wood, and travelled on so near to the castle that the noise,
and talking, and laughing, and barking of dogs, and neighing of
horses, were all quite audible to their ears.
Now the castle of Daber is built upon a hill which is entirely
surrounded by water, so that the castle can be approached only by
two bridges--one southwards, leading from the town; the other
eastwards, leading direct through the castle gardens. The castle
itself was a noble, lofty pile, with strong towers and
spires--almost as stately a building as my gracious lord's castle
at Saatzig.
When Johann observed all this, his heart failed him, and as he and
his two companions peeped out at it from behind a thorn-bush, they
agreed that it would be hard work to take such a castle,
garrisoned, as it was now, by four hundred men or more, with their
mere handful of partisans.
But Satan knows how to help his own, for what happened while they
were crouching there and arguing? Behold, the old Dewitz, as an
offering to the church at Daber upon his daughter's marriage, had
promised twenty good acres of land to be added to the glebe. And
he comes now up the hill, with a great crowd of men to dig the
boundary. So the Satan's children behind the thorn-bush feared
they would be discovered; but it was not so, and the crowd passed
on unheeding them.
Old Dewitz now called the witnesses, and bid them take note of the
position of the boundary. There where the hill, the wild
apple-tree, and the town tower were all in one line, was the
limit; let them keep this well in their minds. Then calling over
six lads, he bid them take note likewise of the boundary, that
when the old people were dead they might stand up as witnesses;
but as such things were easily forgotten, he, the priest, and the
churchwarden would write it down for them, so that it never, by
any chance, could escape their memory.
Upon which the good knight, being lord and patron, took a stout
stick the first, and cudgelled the young lads well, asking them
between terms--
"Where is the boundary?"
To which they answered, screaming and roaring--
"Where the hill, the apple-tree, and the town tower are all in one
line."
Then the knight, laughing, handed over the stick to the priest,
saying--
"It was still possible they might forget; they better, therefore,
have another little memorandum from his reverence."
"No! no!" screamed the boys, "we will remember it to eternity."
However, his reverence just gave them a little touch of the stick
in fun, till they roared out the boundary marks a second time.
But now stepped forth the churchwarden, to take his turn with the
stick on the boys' backs. This man had been a forester of the old
Baron Dewitz, and had often taken note of one of the young fellows
present, how he had poached and stolen the buck-wheat, so he
gladly seized this opportunity to punish him for all his misdeeds,
and laying the cudgel on his shoulders, thrashed and belaboured
him so unmercifully, that the lad ran, shrieking, cursing,
howling, and roaring, far away in amongst the bushes to hide
himself, while the churchwarden cried out--
"Well! if all the other lads forget the boundary, I think my fine
fellow here will bear the memorandum to the day of judgment."
And so they went away laughing from the place, and returned to the
castle.
But the devil drew his profit from all this, for where should the
lad run to, but close to the very spot where the robbers were
hiding, and there he threw himself down upon the grass, writhing
and howling, and swearing he would be revenged upon the
churchwarden. This is a fine hearing for my knave in the bush, so
he steps forward, and asks--
"What vile Josel had dared to ill-treat so brave a youth? He would
help him to a revenge upon the base knave, for injustice was a
thing he never could suffer. The tears really were in his eyes to
think that such wickedness should be in the world;" and here he
pretended to wipe his eyes. So the lad, being quite overcome by
such compassionate sympathy, howled and cried ten times more--
"It was the forester Kell, the shameless hound; but he would play
him a trick for it."
_Ille_.--"Right. He owed the fellow a drubbing already
himself, and now he would have a double one, if he could only get
hold of him."
_Hic_.--"He would run and tell him that a great lord wanted
to speak to him here in the forest."
_Ille_.-"No, no; that would scarcely answer; but where did
the fellow live?"
_Hic_.-"In the castle, where his father lived likewise."
_Ille_.-"Who was his father?"
_Hic_.--"His father was the steward."
_Ille_.--"Ah, then, he kept the keys of the castle?"
_Hic_.--"Oh yes, and the key of the back entrance also, which
led through the gardens. His father kept one key, and the gardener
the other."
_Ille_.--"Well, he would tell him a secret. This very Kell
had deceived him once, like a knave as he was, and he was watching
to punish him, but he daren't go up to the castle in the broad
daylight, particularly now while the wedding was going on. How
long would it last?"
_Hic_.--"For three days more; it had lasted three days
already, and the castle was full of company, and great lords from
all the country round, a great deal grander even than old Dewitz,
were there."
_Ille_.--"Well, then, it would be quite impossible to go up
to the castle and flog the churchwarden before all the company--he
could see that himself. But supposing he let him in at night
through the garden door, couldn't they get the knave out on some
pretence, and then drub him to their heart's content?"
So the lad was delighted with the plan, particularly on hearing
that he was to help in the drubbing; but then if the forester
recognised him, what was to be done? he would be ruined. To which
Johann answered--
"Just put on an old cloak, and speak no word; then, neither by
dress nor voice will he know thee; besides, the night will be
quite dark, so fear nothing. We'll teach him, I engage, how to
beat a fine young fellow again, or to rob me of my gold, as he
did, the base, unworthy knave."
Here the lad laughed outright with joy. "Yes, yes, that would just
do; and he could put on his father's old mantle, and bring a stout
crab-stick along with him."
_Hic_.--"All right, young friend; but how was he to get into
the castle garden? Was there not a drawbridge which was lifted
every night?"
_Hic._--"Oh yes; but his father very often sent him to draw
it up, and he could leave it down for tonight; then he would get
the forester, by some means, into the shrubbery, where it was dark
as pitch, and they could thrash the dog there without any one
knowing a word about it."
_Ille._-"Good! Then when the tower-clock struck nine, let him
come himself and admit him into the garden--time enough after to
run for the forester, while he was hiding himself in the
shrubbery, for no one must know a word about his being there."
Then he gave the lad a knife, and told him if all turned out well
he should have a piece of gold in addition. "Ah! they would give
him a warm greeting, this dog of a forester! But after he had
called him out, the lad must pretend as if he had nothing to do
with the matter, and go back to the house, or slip down some
by-path."
So the lad jumped with joy when he got hold of the knife, and
skipped off to the castle, promising to be at the drawbridge when
nine o'clock struck from the tower, to admit his good friend into
the garden.
Meanwhile my gracious Lady of Wolgast was making preparations for
her departure on the morrow from the castle, for she had been
attending the wedding festivities with her four sons, and Ulrich,
the Grand Chamberlain; but previous to taking leave of her dear
son, Duke Johann Frederick, she wished to make one more attempt to
induce him to take off the interdict from the country, and allow
the courts of justice to be re-opened, for thus would the land be
freed from these wild hordes who haunted every road, and filled
all hearts with fear.
For this purpose she went up to his own private chamber in the
castle, bringing old Ulrich along with her; and when they entered,
old Ulrich, having closed the door, began--"Now, gracious lady,
speak to your son as befits a mother and your princely Grace to
do."
Upon which he took his seat at the table, looking around him as
sour as a vinegar-cruet.
So the Duchess lifted up her voice with many tears, and prayed his
Highness of Stettin to stem all this violence that raged in the
land, as a loving Prince and father towards his subjects. He had
resisted all her entreaties until now, with those of his dear
brothers and old Ulrich; and had not even his host and the whole
nobility tried to soften his heart towards his people, who were
suffering by his hard resolve? But surely he would not refuse her
now, for she had come to take her leave of him, and had brought
his old guardian and his brothers to plead along with her;
besides, who knew what might happen next? For she heard, to her
astonishment, that Sidonia was not dead at all, as they supposed,
but roaming through the country with her accursed paramour. Had
she known this, never would she have permitted this long journey,
dear even as the bride was to her heart, but would have stayed at
Wolgast to watch over her heart's dear son, Ernest, and his young
spouse, who rightly feared to put themselves in danger again,
after the sore peril they had encountered in the Stettin forest;
and who knew what might happen to her on the journey homeward? for
if she encountered Sidonia, what could she expect from her but the
bitterest death? (weeping.) Ah, this all came upon them because
the young Duke had despised the admonitions of his blessed father
upon his death-bed, and thought not of that Scripture which saith,
"The father's blessing buildeth the children's houses, but the
curse of the mother pulleth them down." [Footnote: Sirach iii.
II.] She had never cursed him yet, but that day might come.
Then Duke Johann answered, "He was sad to see his darling mother
chafe and fret about these same courts of justice, but his
princely honour was pledged, and he could not retract one word
until the states came back to their duty, and gave him the gold he
demanded. For how could he stand before the world as a fool? He
had begun this castle of Friedrichswald, and had ordered all kinds
of statues, paintings, &c., from Italy, for which gold must be
paid. How, then, if he had none?"
"But those were idle follies," his mother answered, "and showed
how true were the words of Solomon--'When a prince wanteth
understanding, there is great oppression.'" [Footnote: Prov.
xxviii. 16.]
Here the Duke grew angry. "It was false; he did not want
understanding. Well it was that no one had dared to say this to
him but his mother."
But my gracious lady could not hear him plainly; for his Serene
Highness, Barnim the younger, who had drunk rather freely at
dinner, began to snore so loudly, that he snored away a paper
which lay before old Ulrich, upon which he had been sketching a
list of _propositions_ for the reconciliation of the Duke and
the estates of the kingdom.
Hereupon the old chamberlain cursed and swore--"May the seven
thousand devils take them! One snarls at his mother, and the other
snores away his paper! Did the Prince think that Pomerania was
like Saxony, when he began these fine buildings at Friedrichswald?
His Grace had a house at Stettin; what did he want with a second?
Was his Grace better than his forefathers? And would not his Grace
have Oderburg when old Duke Barnim died? and castles and towns all
round the land?"
But the Duke answered proudly, "That Ulrich should remember his
guardianship had ended. He knew himself what to do and what to
leave undone."
Herewith the young Lord Bogislaff broke in--"Yet, dearest brother,
be advised by us. Bethink you how I resigned my chance of the
duchy at the Diet of Wollin, and now I am ready to give you up the
annuity which I then received, if it will help your necessities,
and that you promise thereupon to release the land from the
interdict, that all this fearful villainy and lawlessness which is
devastating the country may have an end."
_Ille_.--"Matters were not so bad as he thought; besides, why
cannot the people defend themselves, and take care of their own
skin?"
_Hic_.--"So they do; but this only increased injustice and
lawlessness." Then he related many examples of how the despairing
people of the different towns had executed justice, after their
own manner, upon the robbers who fell into their hands. In
Stolpschen, for instance, three fellows had been caught plundering
the corn, and the peasants nailed them up to a tree, and whipped
them till they dropped down dead. Well might Satan laugh over the
sin and wickedness that reigned now in poor Pomerania.
_Item_, he related how the peasants in Marienfliess were
going to burn a witch, without trial or sentence. _Item_, how
many peasants and villagers had hung up their own bailiffs, or
strangled them. _Item_, how the priests had been chased away
from many places, so that they now had to beg their bread upon the
highway; and in such towns God's service was no more heard, but
each one lived as it pleased him, and the peasants did as they
chose. And now he would ask his heart's dear brother, which would
be more upright and honourable in the sight of the great God--to
build up this castle of Friedrichswald, or to let it fall, and
build up the virtue and happiness of his people? He could not
build the castle without money, and he had none; but he could
restore his land to peace and happiness by a word. Let him, then,
open these long-closed courts of justice, for this was his duty as
a Prince; and let him remember that every prince was ordained of
God, and must answer to Him for his government.
Hereupon the Stettin Duke made answer--"Pity, good Bogislaff, thou
wert not a village priest! Hast thou finished thy sermon? Truly
thou wert never meant for a prince, as we heard from thy own lips,
the day of the Diet at Wollin. Thou hast no sense of princely
honour, I see, but I stand by mine; and now, by my princely
honour, I pledge my princely word, that, until the states give me
the money, the land shall remain in all things as it is."
Here old Ulrich sprang to his feet (while my gracious lady sobbed
aloud), clapped the table, and roared--"Seven thousand devils, my
lord! are we to be robbed and murdered by those vile cut-throats
that infest the land, and your Grace will fold your hands and do
nothing, till they drive your Grace yourself out of the land, or
run a spear through your body, as they would have done to your
princely brother of Wolgast, only he had faithful vassals to
defend him? If it is so to be, then must the nobles make their
petition to the Emperor, and we shall see if his Imperial Majesty
cannot bring your Grace to reason, though your mother and we all
have failed to move you."
Here the little Casimir, who was playing with the paper which his
brother had snored away, ran up to his mother, and pulling her by
the gown, said, "Gracious lady mamma, what ails my brother, the
Stettin Duke? Is he drunk, too?"
At which they all laughed, except Duke Johann, who gave a kick to
his little brother, and then strode out of the room, exclaiming,
"Sooner my life than my honour; I shall stay here no longer to be
tutored and lectured, but will take my journey homewards this very
night." And so he departed, but by a small side-door, for old
Ulrich had locked the chief door on entering.
Now, indeed, her Grace wept bitterly: ah! she thought the evil had
left her house, which the fatal business at her wedding had
wrought on it, when Dr. Martinus dropped the ring; but, alas! it
was only beginning now; and yet she could not curse him, for he
was her son, and she had borne him in pain and sorrow.
_Summa_.--If many were displeased at these proceedings of his
Grace, so also was the Lord God, as was seen clearly by many
strange signs; for on that same night Duke Barnim the elder died
at Oderburg, and all the crosses, knobs, and spires throughout the
whole town turned quite black, though they had only been newly
gilded a year before, and no rain, lightning, or thunder had been
observed. [Footnote: The Duke died 29th September 1573, aged 72
years.--_Micraelius_. 369.]
But this was all clearly to show the anger of God over the sins of
the young Duke, and by these signs He would admonish him to
repentance, as a father might gently threaten a refractory child.
As to what further happened his Grace when he went out by the
little door, and the danger that befell him there, we shall hear
more in another chapter.