_How Sidonia is chased by the wolves to Rehewinkel, and finds
Johann Appelmann again in the inn, with whom she goes away a
second time by night._
When Sidonia left Saatzig, the day was far advanced, so that the
good knight recommended her to stop at Daber that night with his
blessed wife's mourning parents, and, for this purpose, sent a
letter by her to them. Also he gave a fine one-year-old foal in
charge to the coachman, who tied it to the side of the carriage;
and Marcus bid him deliver it up safely to the pastor of
Rehewinkel, his good friend, for he had only been keeping the
young thing at grass for him, and the pastor now wished it
back--they must therefore go by Rehewinkel. So they drove away;
but many strange things happened by reason of this same foal; for
it was so restive and impatient at being tied, that many times
they had to stop and quiet it, lest the poor beast might get hurt
by the wheel.
This so delayed their journey, that evening came on before they
were out of the forest; and as the sun went down, the wolves began
to appear in every direction. Finally, a pack of ten or twelve
pursued the carriage; and though the coach-man whipped his horses
with might and main, still the wolves gained on them, and stared
up in their faces, licking their jaws with their red tongues. Some
even were daring enough to spring up behind the carriage, but
finding nothing but trunks, had to tumble down again.
This so terrified Sidonia that she screamed and shrieked, and,
drawing forth a knife, cut the cords that bound the foal, which
instantly galloped away, and the wolves after it. How the carl
drove now, thinking to get help in time to save the poor foal! but
not so. The poor beast, in its terror, galloped into the town of
Rehewinkel; and as the paddock is closed, it springs into the
churchyard, the wolves after it, and runs into the belfry-tower,
the door of which is lying open--the wolves rush in too, and there
they tear the poor animal to pieces, before the pastor could
collect peasants enough to try and save it.
Meanwhile Sidonia has reached the town likewise; and as there is a
great uproar, some of the peasants crowding into the churchyard,
others setting off full chase after the wolves, which had taken
the road to Freienwald, Sidonia did not choose to move on (for she
must have travelled that very road), but desired the coachman to
drive up to the inn; and as she entered, lo! there sat my knave,
with two companions, at a table, drinking. Up he jumps, and seizes
Sidonia to kiss her, but she pushed him away. "Let him not attempt
to come near her. She had done with such low fellows."
So the knave feigned great sorrow--"Alas! had she quite forgotten
him--and he treasured her memory so in his heart! Where had she
come from? He saw a great many trunks and bags on the carriage.
What had she in them?"
_Illa_.--"Ah! he would, no doubt, like to get hold of them;
but she would take care and inform the people what sort of robber
carls they had now in the house. She came from Saatzig, and was
going to Daber; for as old Dewitz had lost his daughter, he
intended to adopt her in the place of one. Therefore let him not
attempt to approach her, for she was now, more than ever, a castle
and land dowered maiden, and from such a low burgher carl as he
was, would cross and bless herself."
But my knave knew her well; so he answered--"Woe is me, Sidonia!
do not grieve me by such words; for know that I have given up my
old free courses of which you talk; and my father is so pleased
with my present mode of life, that he has promised to give me my
heritage, and even this very night I am to receive it at
Bruchhausen, and am on my way there, as you see. Truly I meant to
purchase some land in Poland with the money, and then search
throughout all places for you, that we might be wedded like pious
Christians. Alas! I thought to have sold your poor cabins at
Zachow, and brought you home to my castle in Poland; but for all
my love you only give me this proud answer!"
Now Sidonia scarcely believed the knave; so she called one of his
comrades aside, and asked him was it true, and where they came
from. Upon which he confirmed all that Johann had said--"The devil
had dispersed the whole band, so that only two were left with the
captain--himself and Konnemann; and they came from Nörenburg,
where the master had been striking a bargain with Elias von Wedel,
for a town in Poland. The town was called Lembrowo, and there was
a stately castle there, as grand almost as the castle of old
Dewitz at Daber. They were going this very night to Bruchhausen,
to get gold from the old stiff-neck of Stargard, so that the
bargain might be concluded next day."
This was a pleasant hearing for Sidonia. She became more friendly,
and said, "He could not blame her for doubting him, as he had
deceived her so often; still it was wonderful how her heart clung
to him through all. Where had he been so long? and what had
happened since they parted?"
Hereupon he answered, "That he could not speak while the people
were all going to and fro in the inn; but if she came out with him
(as the night was fine), they could walk down to the river-side,
and he would tell her all."
_Summa_.--She went with him, and they sat down upon the green
grass to discourse, never knowing that the pastor of Rehewinkel
was hid behind the next tree; for he had gone forth to lament over
the loss of his poor foal, and sat there weeping bitterly. He had
got it home to sell, that he might buy a warm coat for the winter,
which now he cannot do; therefore the old man had gone forth
mournfully into the clear night, thrown himself down, and wept.
By this chance he heard the whole story from my knave, and related
it afterwards to the old burgomaster in Stargard. It was as
follows:--
Some time after his flight from Daber, a friend from Stettin told
him that Dinnies von Kleist (the same who had spoiled their work
in the Uckermund forest) had got a great sum of gold in his
knapsack, and was off to his castle at Dame, [Footnote: A town
near Polzin, in Lower Pomerania, and an ancient feudal hold of the
Kleists.] while the rest were feasting at Daber. This sum he had
won by a wager from the Princes of Saxony, Brandenburg, and
Mecklenburg. For he had bet, at table, that he would carry five
casks of Italian wine at once, and without help, up from the
cellar to the dining-hall, in the castle of Old Stettin. Duke
Johann refused the bet, knowing his man well, but the others took
it up; upon which, after grace, the whole noble company stood up
and accompanied him to the cellar. Here Dinnies took up a cask
under each arm, another in each hand by the plugs, and a fifth
between his teeth by the plug also; thus laden, he carried the
five casks up every step from the cellar to the dining-hall. So
the money was paid to him, as the lacqueys witnessed, and having
put the same in his knapsack, he set off for his castle at Dame,
to give it to his father. And the knave went on--"After I heard
this news from my good friend, I resolved to set off for Dame and
revenge myself on this strong ox, burn his castle, and take his
gold. The band agreed; but woe, alas! there was one traitor
amongst them. The fellow was called Kaff, and I might well have
suspected him; for latterly I observed that when we were about any
business, particularly church-robbing, he tried to be off, and
asked to be left to keep the watch. Divers nights, too, as I
passed him, there was the carl praying; and so I ought to have
dismissed the coward knave at once, or he would have had half the
band praying likewise before long.
"In short, this arrant villain slips off at night from his post,
just as we had all set ourselves down before the castle, waiting
for the darkest hour of midnight to attack the foxes in their den,
and betrays the whole business to Kleist himself, telling him the
strength of the band, and how and when we were to attack him, with
all other particulars. Whereupon a great lamentation was heard in
the castle, and old Kleist, a little white-headed man, wrung his
hands, and seemed ready to go mad with fear; for half the
retainers were at the annual fair, others far away at the
coal-mines, and finally, they could scarcely muster in all ten
fighting men. Besides this, the castle fosse was filled with
rubbish, though the old man had been bidding his sons, for the
last year, to get it cleared, but they never minded him, the idle
knaves. All this troubled stout Dinnies mightily; and as he walked
up and down the hall, his eyes often rested on a painting which
represented the devil cutting off the head of a gambler, and
flying with it out of the window.
"Again and again he looked at the picture, then called out for a
hound, stuck him under his arm, and cut off his head, as if it had
been only a dove; then he called for a calf from the stall, put it
under his arm likewise, and cut off the head. Then he asked for
the mask which represented the devil, and which he had got from
Stettin to frighten his dissolute brothers, when they caroused too
late over their cups. The young Johann, indeed, had sometimes
dropped the wine-flask by reason of it, but Detloff still ran
after the young maidens as much as ever, though even he had got
such a fright that there was hope for his poor soul yet. So the
mask was brought, and all the proper disguise to play the
devil--namely, a yellow jerkin slashed with black, a red mantle,
and a large wooden horse's foot.
"When Dinnies beheld all this, and the man who played the devil
instructed him how to put them on, he rejoiced greatly, and
declared that now he alone could save the castle. I knew nothing
of all this at the time," said Johann, "nor of the treason,
neither did the band. We were all seated under a shed in the wood,
that had been built for the young deer in the winter time, and had
stuck a lantern against the wall while we gamed and drank, and our
provider poured us out large mugs of the best beer, when, just at
midnight, we heard a report like a clap of thunder outside, so
that the earth shook under us (it was no thunder-clap, however,
but an explosion of powder, which the traitor had laid down all
round the shed, for we found the trace of it next day).
"And as we all sprang up, in strode the devil himself bodily, with
his horse's foot and cocks' feathers, and a long calf's tail,
making the most horrible grimaces, and shaking his long hair at
us. Fire came out of his mouth and nostrils, and roaring like a
wild boar, he seized the little dwarf (whom you may remember,
Sidonia), tucked him under his arm like a cock--and just as he was
uttering a curse over his good game being interrupted--and cut his
head clean off; then, throwing the head at me, growled forth--
"'Every day one,
Only Sundays none"
and disappeared through the door like a flash of lightning,
carrying the headless trunk along with him.
"When my comrades heard that the devil was to carry off one of
them every day but Sunday, they all set up a screaming, like so
many rooks when a shot is fired in amongst them, and rushed out in
the night, seizing hold of horses or waggons, or whatever they
could lay their hands on, and rode away east and west, and west
and east, or north and south, as it may be.
"_Summa_.--When I came to my senses (for I had sunk down
insensible from horror, when the head of the dwarf was thrown at
me), I found that the said head had bit me by the arm, so that I
had to drag it away by force; then I looked about me, and every
knave had fled--even my waggon had been carried off, and not a
soul was left in the place of all these fine fellows, who had
sworn to be true to me till death.
"This base desertion nearly broke my heart, and I resolved to
change my course of life and go to some pious priest for
confession, telling him how the devil had first tempted me to sin,
and then punished me in this terrible manner (as, indeed, I well
deserved).
"So next morning I took my way to the town, after observing, to my
great annoyance, that the castle could have been as easily taken
as a bird's nest; and seeing a beer-glass painted on a sign-board,
I guessed that here was the inn. Truth to say, my heart wanted
strengthening sorely, and I entered. There was a pretty wench
washing crabs in the kitchen, and as I made up to her, after my
manner, to have a little pastime, she drew back and said,
laughing, 'May the devil take you, as he took the others last
night in the barn!' upon which she laughed again so loud and long,
that I thought she would have fallen down, and could not utter a
word more for laughing.
"This seemed a strange thing to me, for I had never heard a
Christian man, much less a woman, laugh when the talk was of the
bodily Satan himself. So I asked what there was so pleasant in the
thought? whereupon she related what the young knight Dinnies
Kleist had done to save his castle from the robbers. I would not
believe her, but while I sat myself down on a bench to drink, the
host comes in and confirmed her story. _Summa_, I let the
conversion lie over for a time yet, and set about looking for my
comrades, but not finding one, I fell into despair, and resolved
to get into Poland, and take service in the army there--especially
as all my money had vanished."
Here the old parson said that Sidonia cried out, "How now, sir
knave, you are going to buy castle and lands forsooth, and have no
money? Truly the base villain is deceiving me yet again."
But my knave answered, "Alas! woe that thou shouldst think so
hardly of me! Have I not told thee that my father is going to give
me my heritage? So listen further what I tell thee:--In Poland I
met with Konnemann and Stephen Pruski, who had one of my waggons
with them, in which all my gold was hid, and when I threatened to
complain to the authorities, the cowards let me have my own
property again, on condition that I would take them into my
service, when I went to live at my own castle. This I promised;
therefore they are here with me, as you see. And Konnemann went
lately to my father at my request, and brought me back the joyful
intelligence that he would assign me over my portion of his goods
and property."
So far the Pastor Rehewinkelensis heard. What follows concerning
the wicked knave was related by his own sorrowing father to my
worthy father-in-law, along with other pious priests, and from him
I had the story when I visited him at Marienfliess.
For what was my knave's next act? When he returned to the town,
and heard from his comrades that the coachman of Saatzig was
snoring away there in the stable with open mouth, he stuffed in
some hay to prevent him screaming, and tied him hands and feet,
then drew his horses out of the stall, yoked them to the carriage,
and drove it himself a little piece out of the town down into the
hollow, then went back for Sidonia, telling her that her stupid
coachman had made some mistake and driven off without her, but he
had put all her baggage on his own carriage, which was now quite
ready, if she would walk with him a little way just outside the
town. Hereupon she paid the reckoning, mine host troubling himself
little about the affair of the waggon, and they set off on foot.
When they reached the carriage, Sidonia asked if all her baggage
were really there, for she could not see in the darkness. And when
she felt, and reckoned all her bundles and trunks, and found all
right, my knave said, "Now, she saw herself that he meant truly by
her. Here was even a nice place made in the straw sack for her,
where he had sat down first himself, that she might have an easy
seat. _Item_, she now saw his own carriage which he had
fished up in Poland and kept till now, that he might travel in it
to Bruchhausen to receive his heritage, and he was going there
this very night. She saw that he had lied in nothing."
Whereupon Sidonia got into the carriage with him, never
discovering his knavery on account of the darkness, and about
midnight they reached the inn at Bruchhausen.