END OF FIRST BOOK.

BOOK II.

FROM THE BANISHMENT OF SIDONIA FROM THE DUCAL COURT OF WOLGAST UP TO HER RECEPTION IN THE CONVENT OF MARIENFLIESS.

CHAPTER I.

Of the quarrel between Otto Bork and the Stargardians, which caused him to demand the dues upon the Jena.

MOST EMINENT AND ILLUSTRIOUS PRINCE!—Your Grace must be informed, that much of what I have here set down, in this second book, was communicated to me by that same old Uckermann of Dalow of whom I have spoken already in my first volume.

Other important facts I have gleaned from the Diary of Magdalena von Petersdorfin, Priorissa of the convent of Marienfliess. She was an old and worthy matron, whom Sidonia, however, used to mock and insult, calling her the old cat, and such-like names. But she revenged herself on the shameless wanton in no other way than by writing down what facts she could collect of her disgraceful life and courses, for the admonition and warning of the holy sisterhood.

This little book the pious nun left to her sister Sophia, who is still living in the convent at Marienfliess; and she, at my earnest entreaties, permitted me to peruse it.

Before, however, I continue the relation of Sidonia's adventures, I must state to your Grace what were the circumstances which induced Otto von Bork to demand so urgently the dues upon the Jena from their Highnesses of Stettin and Wolgast. In my opinion, it was for nothing else than to revenge himself upon the burgomaster of Stargard, Jacob Appelmann, father of the equerry. The quarrel happened years before, but Otto never forgot it, and only waited a fitting opportunity to take vengeance on him and the people of Stargard.

This Jacob Appelmann was entitled to receive a great portion of the Jena dues, which were principally paid to him in kind, particularly in foreign spices, which he afterwards sold to the Polish Jews, at the annual fair held in Stramehl.

It happened, upon one of these occasions, as Jacob, with two of his porters, appeared, as usual, carrying bags of spices, to sell to the Polish Jews, that Otto met him in the market-place, and invited him to come up to his castle, for that many nobles were assembled there who would, no doubt, give him better prices for his goods than the Polish Jews, and added that the worthy burgomaster must drink his health with him that day.

Now, Jacob Appelmann was no despiser of good cheer or of broad gold pieces; so, unfortunately for himself, he accepted the invitation. But the knight had only lured him up to the castle to insult and mock him. For when he entered the hall, a loud roar of laughter greeted his appearance, and the half-drunk guests, who were swilling the wine as if they had tuns to fill, and not stomachs, swore that he must pledge each of them separately, in a lusty draught. So they handed him an enormous becker, cut with Otto's arms, bidding him drain it; but as the Herr Jacob hesitated, his host asked him, laughing, was he a Jesu disciple, that he refused to drink?

Hereupon the other answered, he was too old for a disciple, but he was not ashamed to call himself a servant of Jesus.

Then they all roared with laughter, and Otto spoke—

"My good lords and dear friends, ye know how that the Stargard knaves joined with the Pomeranian Duke to ravage my good town of Stramehl, so that it can be only called a village now. And it is also not unknown to you that my disgrace then passed into a proverb, so that people will still say, 'He fell upon me as the Stargardians upon Stramehl.' Let us, then, revenge ourselves to-day. If this Jesu's servant will not drink, then tear open his mouth, put a tun-dish therein, and pour down a good draught till the knave cries 'enough!' As to his spices, let us scatter them before the Polish Jews, as pease before swine, and it will be merry pastime to see how the beasts will lick them up. Thus will Stramehl retort upon Stargard, and the whole land will shout with laughter. For wherefore does this Stargard pedlar come here to my fairs? Mayhap I shall visit his."

Peals of laughter and applause greeted Otto's speech; but Jacob, when he heard it, determined, if possible, to effect his escape; and watching his opportunity, for he was the only one there not drunk, sprang out of the hall, and down the flight of steps, and being young then, never drew breath till he reached the market-place of Stramehl, and jumped into his own waggon.

In vain Otto screamed out to "stop him, stop him!" all his servants were at the fair, where, indeed, the people of the whole country round were gathered. Then the host and the guests sprang up themselves, to run after Jacob Appelmann, but many could not stand, and others tumbled down by the way. However, with a chorus of cries, curses, and threats, Otto and some others at last reached the waggon, and laid hold of it. Then they dragged out the bags of spices, and emptied them all down upon the street, crying—

"Come hither, ye Jews; which of you wants pepper? Who wants cloves?"

So all the Jews in the place ran together, and down they went on all-fours picking up the spices, while their long beards swept the pavement quite clean. Hey! how they pushed and screamed, and dealt blows about among themselves, till their noses bled, and the place looked as if gamecocks had been fighting there, whereat Otto and his roistering guests roared with laughter.

One of the bags they pulled out of the waggon contained cinnamon; but a huntsman of Otto Bork's, not knowing what it was, poured it down likewise into the street. Cinnamon was then so rare, that it sold for its weight in gold. So an old Jew, spying the precious morsel, cried out, "Praise be to God! Praise be to God!" and ran through Otto Bork's legs to get hold of a stick of it. This made the knight look down, and seeing the cinnamon, he straightway bid the huntsman gather it all up again quick, and carry it safely home to the castle.

But the old Jew would by no means let go his hold of the booty, and kept the sticks in one hand high above his head, while with the other he dealt heavy buffets upon the huntsman. An apprentice of Jacob Appelmann's beheld all this from the waggon, and knowing what a costly thing this cinnamon was, he made a long arm out of the waggon, and snapped away the sticks from the Jew. Upon this the huntsman sprang at the apprentice; but the latter, seizing a pair of pot-hooks, which his master had that day bought in the fair, dealt such a blow with them upon the head of the huntsman, that he fell down at once upon the ground quite dead.

Now every one cried out "Murder! murder! Jodute! Jodute! Jodute!" and they tore the bags right and left from the waggon, Jews as well as Christians; but Otto commanded them to seize the apprentice also. So they dragged him out too. He was a fine young man of twenty-three, Louis Griepentroch by name. There was such an uproar, that the men who held the horses' heads were forced away. Whereupon the burgomaster resolved to seize this opportunity for escape; and without heeding the lamentations of the other apprentice, Zabel Griepentroch, who prayed him earnestly to stop and save his poor brother, desired the driver to lash the horses into a gallop, and never stop nor stay until the unlucky town was left far behind them.

Otto von Bork ordered instant pursuit, but in vain. The burgomaster could not be overtaken, and reached Wangerin in safety. There he put up at the inn, to give the panting horses breathing-time; and now the aforesaid Zabel besought him, with many tears, to write to Otto Bork on behalf of his poor brother, to which the burgomaster at last consented; for he loved these two youths, who were orphans and twins, and he had brought them up from their childhood, and treated them in all things like a true and loving godfather. So he wrote to Otto, "That if aught of ill happened to the young Louis Griepentroch, he (the burgomaster) would complain to his Grace of Stettin, for the youth had only done his duty in trying to save the property of his master from the hands of robbers." The good Jacob, however, admonished Zabel to make up his mind for the worst, for the knight was not a man whose heart could be melted, as he himself had experienced but too well that day.

But the sorrowing youth little heeded the admonitions, only seized the letter, and ran with it that same evening back to Stramehl. Here, however, no one would listen to him, no one heeded him; and when at last he got up to Otto and gave him the letter, the knight swore he would flay him alive if he did not instantly quit the town. Now the poor youth gnashed his teeth in rage and despair, and determined to be revenged on the knight.

Just then came by a great crowd leading his brother Louis to the gallows; and on his head they had stuck a high paper cap with the Stargard arms painted thereon, namely, a tower with two griffins (Sidonia, indeed, had painted it, and she was by, and clapping her hands with delight); and for the greater scandal to Stargard, they had tied two hares' tails to the back of the cap, with the inscription written in large letters above them—"So came the Stargardians to Stramehl!"

And Otto and his guests gathered round the gallows, and all the market-folk, with great uproar and laughter. Summa, when the poor carl saw all this, and that there was no hope for his heart's dear brother, neither could he even get near him just to say a last "good-night," he ran like mad to the castle, which was almost empty now, as every one had gone to the market-place; and there, on the hill, he turned round and saw how the hangman had shoved his dear Louis from the ladder, and the body was swinging lamentably to and fro between heaven and earth. So he seized a brand and set fire to the brew-house, from which a thick smoke and light flames soon rose high into the air. Now all the people rushed towards the castle, for they suspected well who had done the deed, particularly as they had observed a young fellow running, as if for life or death, in the opposite direction towards the open country. So they pursued him with wild shouts from every direction; right and left they hemmed him in, and cut off his escape to the wood. And Otto Bork sprang upon a fresh horse, and galloped along with them, roaring out, "Seize the rascal!—seize the vile incendiary! He who takes him shall have a tun of my best beer!" But others he despatched to the castle to extinguish the flames.

Now the poor Zabel knew not what to do, for on every side his pursuers were gaining fast upon him, and he heard Otto's voice close behind crying, "There he runs! there he runs! Seize the gallows-bird, that he may swing with his brother this night. A tun of my best beer to the man who takes him! Seize the incendiary!" So the poor wretch, in his anguish, threw off his smock upon the grass and sprang into the lake, hoping to be able to swim to the other side and reach the wood.

"In after him!" roared Otto; and a fellow jumped in instantly, and seizing hold of Zabel by the hose, dragged him along with him; but they were soon both carried into deep water—Zabel, however, was the uppermost, and held the other down tight to stifle him. Another seeing this, plunged in to rescue his companion, and from the bank dived down underneath Zabel, intending to seize him round the body; but it so happened that the fishermen of Stramehl had laid their nets close to the place, and he plunged direct into the middle of the largest, and stuck there miserably; which when Zabel observed, he let the other go, who was now quite dead, and struck out boldly for the opposite bank. The fishermen sprang into their boats to pursue him, and the crowd ran round, hoping to cut off the pass before he could gain the bank; but he was a brave youth, and distanced them all, jumped on land before one of them could reach him, and plunged into the thick wood. Here it was vain to follow him, for night was coming on fast; so he pursued his path in safety, and returned to his master at Stramehl.

Otto von Bork, however, would not let the matter rest here, for he had sustained great loss by the burning of his brew-house (the other buildings were saved); therefore he wrote to the honourable council at Stargard—"That by the shameful and scandalous burning of his brew-house, he had lost two fine hounds named Stargard and Stramehl, which he had brought himself from Silesia; item, two old servants and a woman; item, in the lake, two other servants had been drowned; and all by the revenge of an apprentice, because he had justly caused his brother to be executed. Therefore this apprentice must be given up to him, that he might have him broken on the wheel, otherwise their vassals on the Jena should suffer in such a sort, that the Stargardians would long have reason to remember Otto Bork."

Now, some of the honourable councillors were of opinion that they should by no means give up the apprentice; first, because Otto had insulted the Stargard arms, and secondly, lest it might appear as if they feared he would fulfil his threats respecting the Jena.

But Jacob Appelmann, the burgomaster, who lay sick in his bed from the treatment he had received at Stramehl, entirely disapproved of this resolution; and when they came to him for his advice, proposed to give for answer to the knight that he should first indemnify him for the loss of his costly spices, which he valued at one thousand florins, and when this sum was paid down, they might treat of the matter concerning the apprentice.

The knight, however, mocked them for making such an absurd demand as compensation, and reiterated his threats, that if the young man were not delivered up to him, he would punish Stargard with a great punishment.

The council, however, were still determined not to yield; and as the burgomaster lay sick in his bed, they released the apprentice from prison; and replied to Otto, "That if he broke the public peace of his Imperial Majesty, let the consequences fall on his own head—there was still justice for them to be had in Pomerania."

When the burgomaster heard of this, he had himself carried in a litter, sick as he was, to the honourable council, and asked them, "Was this justice, to release an incendiary from prison? If they sought justice for themselves, let them deal it out to others. No one had lost more by the transaction than he: his income for the next two years was clean gone, and the care and anxiety he had undergone, besides, had reduced him to this state of bodily weakness which they observed. It was a heart-grief to him to give up the young man, for he had reared him from the baptism water, and he had been a faithful servant unto him up to this day. Could he save him, he would gladly give up his house and all he was worth, and go and take a lodging upon the wall; for this young man had once saved his life, by slaying a mad dog which had seized him by the tail of his coat; but it was not to be done. They must set an honourable example, as just and upright citizens and fearless magistrates, who hold that old saying in honour—'Fiat justitia et pereat mundus;' which means, 'Let justice be done, though life and fortune perish.' But the punishment of the wheel was, he confessed, altogether too severe for the poor youth; and therefore he counselled that they should hang him, as Otto had hung his brother."

This course the honourable society consented at last to adopt; but the knight had disgraced their arms, and they ought in return to disgrace his. They could get the court painter from Stettin at the public expense, and let him paint Otto Bork's arms on the back of the young man's hose.

Here the burgomaster again interfered—"Why should the honourable council attempt a stupid insult, because the knight had done so?" But he talked in vain; they were determined on this retaliation. At last (but after a great deal of trouble) he obtained a promise that they would have the arms painted before, upon his smock, and not behind, upon the hose, for that would be a sore disgrace to Otto, and bring his vengeance upon them. "Why should they do more to him than he had done unto them? The Scripture said, 'Eye for eye, tooth for tooth,' and not two eyes for an eye, two teeth for a tooth." Hereupon the honourable council pronounced sentence on the young man, and fixed the third day from that for his execution. But first the executioner must bring him up before the bed of the burgomaster, who thus spoke—"Ah, Zabel, wherefore didst thou not behave as I admonished thee in Wangerin?" And as the young man began to weep, he gave him his hand, and admonished him to be steadfast in the death-hour, asked his forgiveness for having condemned him, but it was his duty as a magistrate so to do—thanked him for having saved his life by slaying the mad dog; finally, bid him "Good-night," and then buried his face in the pillow.

So the hangman carried back the weeping youth to the council-hall, where the honourable councillors had the Bork arms fastened upon his smock, and out of further malice against Otto (for they knew the burgomaster, being sick in his bed, could not hinder them), they placed over them a large piece of pasteboard, on which was written, "So did the Stargardians with Stramehl." Item, they fastened to the two corners a pair of wolf's ears, because Bork, in the Wendig tongue, signifies wolf. This was to revenge themselves for the hares' tails.

Then the poor apprentice was carried to the gallows, amid loud laughter from the common people. And even the honourable councillors waxed merry at the sight; and as the hangman pushed him from the ladder, they cried out, "So will the Stargardians do to Stramehl!"

Now Otto heard tidings of all these doings, but he feared to complain to his Highness the Duke, because he himself had begun the quarrel, and they had only retorted as was fair. Item, he did not dare to stop the boats upon the Jena—for he knew that although Duke Barnim was usually of a soft and placable temper, yet when he was roused there was no more dangerous enemy. And if the Stargardians leagued with him, they might fall upon his town of Stramehl, as they had done once before.

Therefore he waited patiently for an opportunity of revenge, and held his peace until Sidonia acquainted him with the love of the young Prince Ernest. Then he resolved to demand the dues upon the Jena to be given up to him, and if his wicked desire had been gratified, I think the good citizens of Stargard might have taken to the beggar's staff for the rest of their days, for like all the old Hanseatic towns, their entire subsistence came to them by water, and all their wares and merchandise were carried up the Jena in boats to the town. These the knight would have rated so highly, if he had been made owner of the dues, that the town and people would have been utterly ruined.

It has been already stated that the Duke Barnim gave an ambiguous answer to Otto upon the subject; but the knight, after his visit to Wolgast, was so certain of seeing his daughter in a short time Duchess of Pomerania, that he already looked upon the Jena dues as his own, and proceeded to act as shall be related in the next chapter.

CHAPTER II.

How Otto von Bork demands the Jena dues from the Stargardians, and how the burgomaster Jacob Appelmann takes him prisoner, and locks him up in the Red Sea. [Footnote: A watch-tower, built in the Moorish style, upon the town wall of Stargard, from which the adjacent streets take their name.]

As the aforesaid knight and my gracious lord, Duke Barnim, journeyed home from Wolgast, the former discoursed much on this matter of the Jena dues, but his Grace listened in silence, after his manner, and nicked away at his doll. (I think, however, that his Grace did not quite understand the matter of the Jena dues himself.)

Summa, while Otto was at Stettin, he received information that three vessels, laden with wine and spices, and all manner of merchandise, were on their way to Stargard. So he took this for a good sign, and went straight to the town and up to the burgomaster, Jacob Appelmann, would not sit down, however, but made himself as stiff as if his back would break, and asked whether he (Appelmann) was aware that the lands of the Bork family bordered close upon the Jena.

Ille.—"Yes, he knew it well."

Hic.—"Then he could not wonder if he now demanded dues from every vessel that went up to Stargard."

Ille.—"On the contrary, he would wonder greatly; since by an Act passed in the reign of Duke Barnim the First, A.D. 1243, the freedom of the Jena had been secured to them, and they had enjoyed it up to the present date."

Hic.—"Stuff! what was the use of bringing up these old Acts. His Grace of Stettin, as well as the Duchess of Wolgast, had now given them over to him."

Ille.—"Then let his lordship produce his charter; if he had got one, why not show it?"

Hic.—"No, he had not got the written order yet, but he would soon have it."

Ille.—"Well, until then they would abide by the old law."

Hic.—"By no means. This very day he would insist on being paid the dues."

Ille.—"That meant, that he purposed to break the peace of our lord the Emperor. Let him think well of it. It might cost him dear."

Hic.—"That was his care. The Stargardians should not a second time hang his arms on the gallows."

Ille.—"It was a simple act of retaliation; had he not read, 'An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth'?"

Hic.—"Nonsense! was that retaliation, when a set of low burgher carls took upon themselves to disgrace the lord of castles and lands; as well might one of his serfs, when he struck him, strike him in return; that would be retaliation too. Ha! ha! ha!"

Ille.—"What did his lordship mean? He was no village justice, nor were the burghers of this good town serfs or boors."

Hic.—"If he knew not now what he meant, he would soon learn; ay, and take off his hat so low to the Bork arms that it would touch the ground. Then, too, he might himself get a lesson in retaliation."

And herewith the knight strode firmly out of the room, without even saluting the burgomaster; but Jacob knew well how to deal with him, so he sent instantly for the keeper of the forest, who lived in the thick wood on the banks of the Jena, and told him to watch by night and day, and if he observed anything unusual going on, to spring upon a horse and bring him the intelligence without delay.

Meanwhile the knight summoned all his feudal vassals around him at Stramehl, and told them how his Grace had bestowed the Jena dues upon him, but the sturdy burghers of Stargard had dared to impugn his rights; therefore let each of them select two trusty followers, and meet all together on the morrow morn at Putzerlin, close to the Jena ferry. Then, if there came by any vessels laden with choice wines, let them be sure and drink a health to Stargard. So they all believed him, and came to the appointed place with twenty horsemen, and the knight himself brought twenty more. There they unsaddled and turned into the meadow, then set to work to throw a bridge over the river. As soon as the forest ranger spied them, he saddled his wild clipper, which he himself had caught in the Uckermund country, and flew like wind to the town (for the wild horses are much stouter and fleeter than the tame, but there are none to be found now in all Pomerania).

When the burgomaster heard this tale, he told him to go back the way he came, and keep perfectly still until he saw a rocket rise from St. Mary's Tower, then let him loose all his hounds upon the horses in the meadow, and he and the burghers would follow soon, and make a quick end of the robber knights and freebooters; but he would wait for three hours before giving the promised sign from St. Mary's Tower, that he might have time to get back to the wood. Still the knight and his followers continued working at the bridge right merrily. They took the ferryman's planks and poles, and cut down large oak-trees, and every one that went across the ferry must stop and help them; but their work was not quite completed, when three vessels appeared in sight, laden with all sorts of merchandise, and making direct for Stargard. As soon as Otto perceived them, he took half-a-dozen fellows with him, and jumped into a ferry-boat, crying, "Hold! until the dues are paid, you can go no farther. The river and the land alike belong to me now, and I must have my dues, as his Grace of Stettin has commanded."

The crew, however, strictly objected, saying that in the memory of man they had never paid dues upon their goods, and they would not pay them now; but Otto and his knights jumped on deck, followed by their squires, and having asked for the bill of lading, decimated all the goods, as a priest collecting his tithe of the sheaves. Then he took the best cask of wine, had it rolled on land, and called out to the crew, who were crying like children, "Now, good people, you may go your ways."

But the poor devils were in despair, and followed him on land, praying and beseeching him not to ruin them, but to restore their property, at which Otto laughed loudly, and bid the strongest of his followers chase the miserable varlets back to their vessel.

Meanwhile the cask of wine had been rolled up against a tree, and the knight and his followers set themselves round it upon the grass, and because they had no glasses, they drank out of kettles, and pots, and bowls, and dishes, or whatever the ferryman could give them. Yea, some of them drew off their boots and filled them with the wine, others drank it out of their caps, and so there they lay on the grass, swilling the wine, and the different wares they had seized lay all scattered round them, and they laughed and drank, and roared, "Thus we drink a health to Stargard!" Hereupon the crew, seeing that nothing could be got from the robbers, went their way with curses and imprecations, to which the knight and his party responded only with peals of laughter.

But the vessel had scarcely set sail, when a woman's voice was heard crying out loudly from the deck—"Father! father! I am here. Listen, Otto von Bork, your daughter Sidonia is here!"

When the knight heard this, he felt as if stunned by a blow, but immediately comforted himself by thinking that no doubt Prince Ernest was with her, particularly as he could observe in the twilight the figure of a man seated beside her on a bundle of goods. "This surely must be the Prince," he said to himself, and so called out with a joyful voice, "Ah, my dearest daughter, Sidonia! how comest thou in the merchant vessel?"

Then he screamed to the sailors to stop and cast anchor; but they heeded neither his cries nor commands, and in place of stopping, began to crowd all sail. Otto now tried entreaties, and promised to restore all their goods, and even pay for the wine drunk, if they would only stop the vessel. This made them listen to him, but they demanded, beside, a compensation money of one hundred florins, for all the anxiety and delay they had suffered. This he promised also, only let them stop instantly. However, they would not trust his word, and not until he had pledged his knightly faith would they consent to stop. Some, indeed, were not even content with this, and required that he should stand bareheaded on the bank, and take a solemn oath, with his hand extended to heaven, that he would deal with them as he had promised.

To this also the knight consented, since they would not believe he held his knightly word higher than any oath; though, in my opinion, he would have done anything they demanded, such was his anxiety to behold the Prince and Princess of Pomerania, for he could imagine nothing else, but that his daughter and her husband had been turned out of Wolgast by the harsh Duchess and the old Grand Chamberlain, and were now on their way to his castle at Stramehl.

Here my gracious Prince will no doubt say, "But, Theodore, why did she not call on her father sooner, when, as you told me, he was on board this very vessel plundering the wares?"

I answer—"Serene Prince! your Grace must know that she and her paramour were at that time crouching in the cabin, through fear of Otto, for the sailors did not know her, or who she was. They had taken her and Appelmann in at Damm, and believed this story: that he was secretary to the Duke at Stettin, and Sidonia was his wife; they were on their way to Stargard, but preferred journeying by water, on account of the robbers who infested the high-roads, and who, they heard, had murdered three travellers only a few days before."

But when Sidonia had found what her father had done, and heard the crew cursing and vowing vengeance on him, she feared it would be worse for her even to fall into the hands of the Stargardians than into her father's, and therefore rushed up on deck and called out to him, though her paramour conjured her by heaven and earth to keep quiet, and not bring him under her father's sword.

Summa, as the vessel once more stood still, the knight sprang quick as thought into the ferry-boat along with some of his followers, and rowed off to the vessel, where his daughter sat upon a bundle of merchandise and wept, but Appelmann crept down again into the cabin. When the knight stepped on board, he kissed and embraced her—but where was the young Prince whom he had seen standing beside her?

Illa.—"Alas! it was not the Prince; the young lord had shamefully deceived her!" (weeping.)

Hic.—"He would make him suffer for it, then; let her tell him the whole business. If he had trifled with her, she should be revenged. Was he not as powerful as any duke in Pomerania?"

Illa.—"He must send away all the bystanders first; did he not see how they all stood round, with their mouths open from wonder?" Hereupon the knight roared out, "Away, go all, all of ye, or I'll stick ye dead as calves. The devil take any of you who dare to listen!" His whole frame trembled meanwhile as an aspen leaf, and he could scarcely wait till the carls clambered over the bundles of goods—"What had happened? In the name of all the devils, let her speak, now that they were alone."

But here the cunning wanton began to weep so piteously, that not a word could she utter; however, as old Otto grew impatient, and began to curse and swear, and shake her by the arm, she at last commenced (while Appelmann was listening from the cabin):—

"Her dearest father knew how the young lord had bribed a priest in Crummyn to wed them privately; but this was all a trick which his wicked mother had suggested to him, in order to bring her to utter ruin; for on the very wedding night, while she was waiting for the Prince in her little room, according to promise, to flee with him to Crummyn, the perfidious Duchess, who was aware of the whole arrangement, sent a groom to her chamber at the appointed hour, and she being in the dark, embraced him, thinking he was the Prince. In the self-same instant the door was burst open, and the old revengeful hag, with Ulrich von Schwerin, rushed in, along with the young Prince and Marcus Bork, her cousin, amid a great crowd of people with lanterns. And no one would listen to her or heed her; so she was thrust that same night out of the castle, like a common swine-maid, though the young lord, when he saw the full extent of his wicked mother's treachery, fell down in a dead faint at her feet."

And here she wept and groaned, as if her heart would break.

"Who, then, was the gay youth who sat beside her there on the bundle?" screamed Otto.

Illa.—"That was the very groom that she had embraced, for they had sent him away with her, to make their wicked story seem true."

Hic.—"But what was his name? May the devil take her, to have gone off with a base-born groom. What was his name?"

Illa (weeping).—"What did he think of her, that she should love a common groom? truly, he had the title of equerry, but then he was nothing better than a common burgher carl. What could she do, when they turned her by night and cloud out of the castle? She must thank God for having had even this groom to protect her, but that he was her lover—fie!—no; that was, indeed, to think little of her."

Hic.—"He would strike her dead if she did not answer. Who was the knave? Where did he come from?"

Illa.—"He was called Johann Appelmann, and was son to the burgomaster of Stargard."

Here the knight raved and chafed like a wild beast, and drew his sword to kill Sidonia, but she fled away down to her paramour in the cabin. However, he had heard the whole conversation, and flew at her to beat her, crying, "Am I then a base-born groom? Ha! thou proud wanton, didst thou not run after me like a common street-girl? I will teach thee to call me a groom!"

And as the knight listened to all this, the sword dropped from his hands and fell into the hold, so that he could not get it up again. Then he was beside himself for rage, and seized a stone of the ballast, to rush down with it to the cabin.

But, behold! a rocket shot up from St. Mary's Tower, and poured its clear light upon the deepening twilight, like a starry meteor, and, at the same instant, the deep bay of ten or twelve blood-hounds resounded fearfully across the meadow where the horses were grazing, and the dogs flew on them, and tore some of them to the ground, and bit others, so that they dashed nearly to their masters, who were lying round the wine-cask, and others fled into the wood bleeding and groaning with pain and agony, as if they had been human creatures.

Then all the fellows jumped up from their wine-cask, and screamed as if the last day had come, and Otto let the stone fall from his hand with horror; but still called out boldly to his men to know what had happened. "Was the devil himself among them that accursed evening?"

Then they shouted in return, that he must hasten to land, for the
Stargardians were upon them, and had killed all their horses.

"Strike them dead, then; kill all, and himself the last, but he would go over and help them."

So he jumped into the boat with his companions, but had not time to set foot on shore, when the Stargardians, horse and foot, with the burgomaster at their head, dashed forth from the wood, shouting, "So fall the Stargardians upon Stramehl!"

At this sight the knight could no longer restrain his impatience, but jumped out of the boat; and although the water reached up under his arms, strode forward, crying—

"Courage, my brave fellows; down with the churls. Kill, slay, give no quarter. He who brings me the head of the burgomaster shall be my heir! His vile son hath brought my daughter to shame. Kill all—all! I will never outlive this day. Ye shall all be my heritors—only kill! kill! kill!"

Then he jumps on land and goes to draw his sword, but he has none—only the scabbard is hanging there; and as the Stargard men are already pressing thick upon them, he shouts—

"A sword, a sword! give me a sword! My good castle of Stramehl for a sword, that I may slay this base-born churl of a burgomaster!"

But a blood-hound jumped at his throat, and tore him to the ground, and as he felt the horrible muzzle closer to his face, he screamed out—

"Save me! save me! Oh, woe is me!"

And at the same moment, Sidonia's voice was heard from the vessel, shrieking—

"Father, father, save me! this groom is beating me to death—he is killing me!" while a loud roar of laughter from the crew accompanied her cries.

No one, however, came to save the knight; for the Stargardians were slaying right and left, and Otto's followers were utterly discomfited. So the knight tried to draw his dagger, and having got hold of it, plunged it with great force into the heart of the ferocious animal, who fell back dead, and Otto sprang to his feet. Just then, however, a tanner recognised him, and seizing hold of him by the arms, carried him off to the other prisoners.

Now, indeed, might he call on the mountains to fall on him, and the hills to cover him (Hosea x.); and now he might feel, too, what a terrible thing it is to fall into the hands of the living God (Hebrews x.); for the Jesu wounds, I'm thinking, burned then like hell-fire in his heart.

Summa, as the wretched man was brought before the burgomaster, who sat down upon a bank and wiped his sword in the grass, the latter cried out—

"Well, sir knight, you would not heed me; you have worked your will. Now, do you understand what retaliation means—'An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth'?"

And as the other stood quite silent, he continued—

"Where is your charter for the Jena dues? Perchance it is contained in this letter, which I have received to-day from her Grace of Wolgast, addressed to you. Hand a lantern here, that the knight may read it! If the charter is not therein, then he shall be flung into prison this night with his followers, until my lord, Duke Barnim, pronounces judgment upon him."

The ferryman advanced and held a light; but Otto had scarcely looked over the letter when he began to tremble as if he would fall to the ground, and then sighed forth, like the rich man in hell—

"Have mercy on me, and give me a drink of water!"

They brought him the water, and then he added—

"Jacob, hast thou, too, had any tidings of our children?"

"Alas!" the other answered; "Ulrich has written all to me."

"Then have mercy on me. Listen how your godless son there in the vessel is beating my daughter to death, and how she is shrieking for help."

As the burgomaster heard these unexpected tidings, he sent messengers to the vessel, with orders to bring the pair immediately before him.

Meanwhile the other prisoners besought the burgomaster to let them go, for they were feudal vassals of Otto Bork, and must do as he commanded them. Besides, he told them that Duke Barnim had given him the dues, and therefore they held it their duty to assist him in collecting them.

And as Otto confirmed their words, saying that he had indeed deceived them, the burgomaster turned to his party, and cried—

"How say you then, worthy burghers and dear friends, shall we let the vassals run, and keep the lord? for, if the master lies, are the servants to be punished if they believe him? Speak, worthy friends."

Then all the burghers cried—

"Let them go, let them go; but keep the knight a prisoner."

Upon which all the retainers took to their heels, not forgetting, though, to hoist the cask of wine upon their shoulders, and so they fled away into the wood.

Now comes a great crowd from all the vessels, accompanying the infamous pair, mocking, and gibing, and laughing at them, so that no one can hear a word for the tumult. But the burgomaster bids them hold their peace, and let the guilty pair be placed before him.

He remained a long while silent, gazing at them both, then sighing deeply, addressed his son—

"Oh, thou lost son, hast thou not yet given up thy dissolute courses? What is this I hear of thee in Wolgast? Now thou must needs humble this noble maiden, and bring dishonour on her house—flinging all thy father's admonitions to the wind—"

Here the son interrupted—

"True; but this noble maiden had thrown herself in his way, like a common girl, and he was only flesh and blood like other men. Why did she follow him so?"

Whereupon the father replied—

"Oh, thou shameless child, who, like the prodigal in Scripture, hast destroyed thy substance with harlots and riotous living, in place of humbleness and repentance, dost thou impudently tell of this poor young maiden's shame before all the world? Oh, son! oh, son! even the blind heathen said, 'Ego illum periisse puto, cui quidem periit pudor' [Footnote: Plautus in Bacchid.]—which means, 'I esteem him dead in whom shame is dead.' Therefore is thy sin doubled, being a Christian, for thou hast boasted of thy shame before the people here, and held up the young maiden to their contempt, besides having beaten her so on board the vessel that many heard her screams, as if she were only a common wench, and not a castle and land dowered maiden."

To which Appelmann answered, that she had called him a common groom and a base-born burgher churl. But his father commanded him to be silent, and bid his men first bind the knight's hands behind his back, and then those of his son, and so carry them both to prison; but to let the maiden go free.

When the knight heard that he was to be bound, his pride revolted, and he offered any ransom, or to give any compensation that could be demanded for the injury he had done them. Every one knew his wealth, and that he had power to keep his word to the uttermost. But the burgomaster made answer, "Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth; how say you, sir knight—speak the truth, if you had taken me prisoner, as I have taken you, would you have bound my hands or not?" To which the knight replied, "Well, Jacob, I will not speak a falsehood, for I feel that my end is near;—I would have bound your hands."

Hereupon the brave burgomaster answered, "I know it well; however, as you have answered me honestly, I will spare you. Burghers, do not bind his hands, neither those of my son. Ye have enough to suffer yet before ye, and God give you both grace to repent. And now to the town! The crew shall declare to-morrow morn, before the honourable council, what they have lost by the knight's means; and he shall make it all good again to them."

So all the people returned with great uproar and rejoicing back to the town, and the bell from St. Mary's and St. John's rung forth merry peals, and all the people of the town ran forth to meet them; but when they saw the knight a prisoner, and his empty scabbard hanging by his side, they clapped their hands and huzzaed, shouting, "So fell the Stargardians upon Stramehl." Thus with merry laughter, and jests, and mockings, they carried him up the street to the tower called the Red Sea, and there locked him up, well guarded.

Here again he prayed the burgomaster to accept a ransom, but in vain. Whereupon he at last solicited pen, paper, and ink, and a light, that he might indite a letter to his Grace, Duke Barnim; and this was granted to him.

As for his unworthy son, the burgomaster had him carried to his own house, and there placed him in a room, with three stout burghers as a guard over him. And Sidonia was placed by herself in another little chamber.

CHAPTER III.

Of Otto Bark's dreadful suicide—Item, how Sidonia and Johann Appelmann were brought before the burgomaster.

During that night there was a strong suspicion upon every one's mind that something terrible was going to happen; for a great storm arose at midnight, and raged fearfully round the Red Sea tower, so that it seemed to rock, and when the night-watch went round to examine it, behold three toads crept out, and set themselves upright upon the parapet like little manikins, as the hares sometimes make themselves into manikins.

What all this denoted was discovered next morning, for when the jailer entered Otto's cell in the tower, he saw him lying on the floor in a pool of blood, with his own dagger sticking in his heart. On the table stood the lamp which he had asked for, still burning feebly, and near it a great many written papers.

The man instantly ran for the burgomaster, who followed him with all speed to the tower. They felt the corpse, but it was already quite cold. So then a messenger was despatched for the chirurgeon, to hold a visum repertum over him.

Meantime they examined the papers, and found first my gracious Lady of Wolgast's letter to the unfortunate father—the same which had made him tremble so the day before—and therein was related all the shameful circumstances concerning Sidonia, just as Ulrich had stated them in the letter to the burgomaster. Then they came upon his last will and testament; but where the seal ought to have been, there lay a large drop of blood, with this memorandum beneath it: "This is my heart's first blood which I have affixed here, in place of a seal, and may he who slights it be accursed for evermore, even as my daughter Sidonia."

In this testament he had completely disinherited his daughter Sidonia, and made his son Otto sole inheritor of all his property, castles, and lands (for his daughter Clara was already dead, and had left no children). Nothing should his daughter Sidonia have but two farm-houses in Zachow, [Footnote: A small town near Stramehl, a mile and a half from Regenwalde.] just to keep her from beggary, and to save the ancient, illustrious name of their house from falling into further contempt. Yet should his son think proper to give her further alimentum, he was at liberty so to do. Lastly, for the second and third time, he cursed his daughter, to whom he owed all his misery, from the affair with the apprentice to that concerning the Jena dues, up to this his most miserable and wretched death. Item, the burgomaster picked up another letter, which was addressed to himself, and wherein the knight prayed, first, that his body might not be drawn by the executioner to burial, as was the custom with suicides, but conveyed honourably to Stramehl, and there deposited in the vault of his family; secondly, that his daughter Sidonia might be sent to Zachow, there to learn how to live humbly as a peasant maid—for that she might look to being a Duchess of Pomerania, only when she could keep her evil desires still for even a couple of days.

Then he cursed her so that it was pitiable to read; and proved that, if he had been a more God-fearing father, she might have been a different daughter; for as St. Paul says (Galatians vi.), "What a man soweth, that shall he also reap." The letter further said, that, for the good deed done to his corpse, the burgomaster should take all the gold found upon his person, consisting of eighty good rose-nobles, and indemnify himself therewith for the loss of his spices that day in Stramehl when they were scattered before the Jews. He lastly desired his last will and testament to be conveyed to his son, along with his corpse; and further, his son was to send compensation to the crew for the cask of wine and whatever other losses they had sustained, according to his knightly word which he had pledged to them.

Summa, when the chirurgeon arrived and the body was examined, there was found upon the unfortunate knight a purse, embroidered with pearls and diamonds, containing eighty rose-nobles, which the burgomaster in no wise disdained to receive, and then laid the whole matter before the honourable council, with the petition of Otto concerning the corpse. The honourable council fully justified the burgomaster for all he had done, and gave their opinion, that as the good town had no jurisdiction over the knight, so they could have none over his body, and therefore let it be removed with all honour to Stramehl, particularly as he had in all things made amends for the wrong he had done them. As regarded Sidonia, two porters should be sent to convey her to Zachow.

Meantime Sidonia had heard of her father's horrible death, and lay on the ground nearly insensible from grief. Just then the burgomaster returned from the council-hall, and commanded that she and his profligate son should be brought before him. When they arrived, he asked how it happened that they were both found in the vessel, for Ulrich, the Grand Chamberlain, had written to inform him that Sidonia had been sent away in a coach to Stettin, with the executioner on the box.

Here Sidonia sobbed so violently that no word could she utter; therefore the son replied that such had been done, but that he had been given a horse from the ducal stables, and had followed the coach; and when they stopped at Uckermund for the night, he had secretly got speech with Sidonia, and advised her to try and remove the planks from the bottom of the carriage and escape to him, for that he would be quite close at hand. And he did what he could that night to loosen the boards himself. So in the morning Sidonia got them up easily, and first dropped her baggage out through the hole, which he picked up; and then, as they came to a soft, sandy tract where the coach had to go very slowly, she let herself also down through it, and sinking in the deep sand, let the coach go over her without any hurt. Then he came to her, and they fled to the next town, where he bought a waggon from some peasants, for her and her luggage to proceed into Stargard, for she was ashamed to appear before Duke Barnim, and wished to get on from Stargard to Stramehl; but when they reached Damm, they heard such wild tales of the robbers and partisans who infested the roads, that Sidonia grew alarmed, and made him go by water for safety. So he left the horse and waggon at the inn, and took ship with the merchants who were going to Stargard. These were their adventures. The rest his father knew as well as himself.

The burgomaster then asked Sidonia had he spoken truth. So she dried her eyes, and nodded her head for "Yes."

Then he admonished her gravely, for that she, a noble maiden, could have dishonoured herself with a mere burgher's son, like his Johann, in whom even he, his own father, must say, there was nothing to tempt any girl. And now she knew the truth of those words of St. James: "Lust, when it hath conceived, bringeth forth sin; and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death."

Her sin had, indeed, brought forth her father's death;—would that he could say only his temporal death. This her father had himself asserted in his testament, which he held now in his hands, and for this cause had left all his goods, lands, and castles to her brother Otto—only giving her two farm-houses in Zachow to save her from the beggar's staff, and their noble name from falling into yet greater contempt—and, in addition, he had cursed her with terrible curses; but these might be yet turned away, if she would incline her heart to God, and lead a pious, honest life for the rest of her days. And much more the worthy man preached to her; but she interrupted him, having found her tongue at last, and exclaimed in wrath, "What! has the good-for-nothing old churl written this? Let me see it; it cannot be true."

So the burgomaster reached her the paper, and, as she read, her colour changed, and at last she shrieked aloud and fell down before the burgomaster, clasping his knees, and praying by the Jesu cross not to send such a testament to her brother, for that he was still harder than her father, because he was by nature avaricious, and would grudge her even salt with her bread. Let him remember that his son had promised her marriage, and would he destroy his own children?

Then Jacob Appelmann turned to his profligate son, and asked,
"Does she speak the truth? Have you promised her marriage?"

But the shameless knave answered, "True, I so promised her, when we were at Uckermund; but now that she has no money, I wash my hands of her."

Such villainy made the old man flame with indignation. "He would make him know that he must stand by his word—he would force him to it, if he could only think it would be for the advantage of this wretched girl. But he would admonish her to give him up; did she not see that he was shameless, cruel, and selfish? and how could she ever hope to turn to God and lead a new life with such an infamous partner? Item, his son should be made to work, and to feel poverty, so that his evil desires might be stifled; and as for her, let her go in God's name to Zachow, and there in solitude repent her sins, and strive to win the favour of God."

But that was no water for her mill; so she continued to lament, and weep, and pray the burgomaster not to send the will to her harsh brother; upon which he answered mildly, "Wert thou to lie at my feet till morning, it would not help thee: the testament goes this day to Stramehl; but I will do this for thee. Thy father left me some rose-nobles, in a purse which he carried about with him, as a compensation for my spices, which he strewed before the Jews in Stramehl, of which deed thou, too, wert also guilty, as I know; therefore I was not ashamed to take the money. But of the purse thy father said naught; so I had it in my mind to keep it—for, in truth, it is of more worth than the nobles it contained. If I mistake not, these are true pearls and diamonds with which it is broidered. Look, here it is. What sayest thou?"

Here she sobbed, and answered, "She knew it well; she had broidered the purse herself. They were her mother's pearls and diamonds, and part of her bridal gear; truly they were worth three thousand florins."

"Then," said the brave old man, "I will give thee this purse, since it was not named either for me or for thy brother at Stramehl. Take it to Zachow; thou wilt make a good penny of it. Be pious, and God-fearing, and industrious, remembering what the Holy Scripture says (Prov. xxxi.): 'A virtuous woman takes wool and flax, and labours diligently with her hands. She stretches out her hands to the wheel, and her fingers grasp the spindle.' Hadst thou learned this, in place of thy costly broidery, methinks it would have been better with thee this day."

As he thus spoke, he put the purse in her hands, and she instantly hid it in her pocket. But the profligate Johann now suddenly became repentant, for he thought, if I can obtain nothing good from my father, I may at least get the purse. So he began to weep and lament, and fell down, too, at his father's feet, saying, if he would only pardon him this once, he would indeed take this poor maiden to wife, as he had promised her, for he alone was guilty of her sin; only would his heart's dearest father forgive him? And so the hypocrite went on with his lies.

Whereupon his father made answer honourably and mildly—"Such promises thou hast often made, but never kept. However, I will try thee yet again. If thou wilt spend each day diligently writing in the council-office, and return each night to sleep in my chamber, and continue this good conduct for a few years, to testify thy repentance, as a brave and upright son, and Sidonia meanwhile continues to lead a godly and humble life at Zachow, then, in God's name, ye shall both marry, and make amends for your sin; but not before that."

As he said this, and bid his son stand up, the hypocrite answered, yes, he would do the will of his dear father; but then he must keep back this testament; so would his children be happy. Otherwise, wherefore should they marry?—what could they live on? A couple of cabins in Zachow would not be enough.

"Truly," replied the old man, "if I were as great a knave as thou art, I would do as thou hast said; yet, though the loss of the spices, which her father wickedly destroyed, did me such injury that I had to sell my house, to get the means of living and keeping thee at the University of Grypswald, I will keep my hands pure from the property of another, even if this property belonged to my greatest enemy, and the enemy of this good town also. Summa, this day thou shalt go to the council-office, the testament to Stramehl, and Sidonia to Zachow."

So the knave was silent: but Sidonia still resisted; she would not go to Zachow—never; but if he would send her to Stettin, she was certain the good Duke Barnim would be kind to an unfortunate maiden, who had done nothing more than what thousands do in secret. And whatever the gracious Prince resolved concerning her, she would abide by.

When the burgomaster heard this speech, he saw that no amendment was to be expected from her; and as he had no authority to compel her to Zachow, he promised, at last, to send her to Stettin on the following day, for there were two market waggons going, and she could travel in one, and thereby be more secure against all danger. And so it was done.

CHAPTER IV.

How Sidonia meets Claude Uckermann again, and solicits him to wed her—Item, what he answered, and how my gracious Lord of Stettin received her.

Sidonia, next morning, got a good soft seat in the waggon, upon the sack of a cloth merchant; he was cousin to the burgomaster, and promised to take her with him, out of friendship for him. All the men in the waggon were armed with spears and muskets, for fear of the robbers, who were growing more daring every day.

So they proceeded; but had not got far from the town when a horseman galloped furiously after them, and called out that he would accompany them; and this was Claude Uckermann, of whom I have spoken so much in my former book. He, too, was going to Stettin. Now when Sidonia saw him, her eyes glistened like a cat's when she sees a mouse, and she rejoiced at the prospect of such good company, for since the wedding of her sister, never had this handsome youth come across her, though she was constantly looking out for him. So as he rode up by the waggon, she greeted him, and prayed him to alight and come and sit by her upon the sack, that they might talk together of dear old times.

She imagined, no doubt, that he knew nothing of all that had happened; but her disgrace was as public at Stargard as if it had been pealed from the great bell of St. Mary's. He therefore knew her whole story, and answered, that sitting by her was disagreeable to him now; and he rode on. This was plain enough, one would think; but Sidonia still held by her delusion; for as they reached the first inn, and stopped to feed the horses, she saw him stepping aside to avoid her, and seating himself at some distance on a bank. So she put on her flattering face, and advanced to him, saying, "Would not the dear young knight make up with her?—what ailed him?—it was impossible he could resent her silly fun at her sister's wedding. Oh! if he had come again and asked her seriously to be his wife, in place of there in the middle of the dancing, as if he had been only jesting, she would never have had another husband, for from that till now, never had so handsome a knight met her eyes; but she was still free."

Hereupon the young man (as he told me himself) made answer—"Yes, she had rightly judged, he was only jesting, and taking his pastime with her, as they sat there upon the carpet, for he held in unspeakable aversion and disgust a cup from which every one sipped."

Still Sidonia would not comprehend him, and began to talk about Wolgast. But he looked down straight before him in the grass, and never spake a word, but turned on his heel, and entered the inn, to see after his horse. So he got rid of her at last.

As the waggon set off again, she began to sing so merrily and loudly, that all the wood rang with it. And the young knight was not so stupid but that he truly discerned her meaning, which was to show him that she cared little for his words, since she could go away in such high spirits.

Summa, when they reached the inn at Stettin, Sidonia got all her baggage carried in from the waggon, and there dressed herself with all her finery: silken robes, golden hairnet, and golden chains, rings, and jewels, that all the people saluted her when she came forth, and went to the castle to ask for his Highness the Duke. He was in his workshop, and had just finished turning a spinning-wheel; he laughed aloud when she entered, ran to her, embraced her, and cried, "What! my treasure!—where hast thou been so long, my sugar-morsel? How I laughed when Master Hansen, whom my old, silly, sour cousin of Wolgast sent with thee, came in lately into my workshop, and told me he had brought thee hither in a ducal coach! I ran directly to the courtyard; but when the knave opened the door, my little thrush had flown. Where hast thou been so long, my sugar-morsel?"

As his Grace put all these questions, he continued kissing her, so that his long white beard got entangled in her golden chains; and as she pushed him away, a bunch of hair remained sticking to her brooch, so that he screamed for pain, and put his hand to his chin. At this, in rushed the court marshal and the treasurer (who were writing in the next chamber) as white as corpses, and asked, "Who is murdering his Grace?" but his Grace held up his hand over his bleeding mouth, and winked to them to go away. So when they saw that it was only a maiden combat, they went their way laughing.

Hereupon speaks his Grace—"See now, treasure, what thou hast done! Thou canst be so kind to a groom, yet thy own gracious Prince will treat so harshly!"

But Sidonia began to weep bitterly. "What did he think of her? The whole story was an invention by his old sour cousin of Wolgast to ruin her because she would not learn her catechism (and then she told the same tale as to her father); but would not his Grace take pity on a poor forsaken maiden, seeing that Prince Ernest could not deny he had promised to make her his bride, and wed her privately at Crummyn, on the very next night to that on which her Grace had so shamefully outraged her?"

"My sweet treasure!" answered the Duke, "the young Prince was only making a fool of you; therefore be content that things are no worse. For even if he had wedded you privately, it would have been all in vain, seeing that neither the princely widow nor the Elector of Brandenburg, his godfather, nor any of the princes of the holy Roman Empire, nor lastly, the Pomeranian States, would ever have permitted so unequal a marriage. Therefore, what the priest joined in Crummyn would have been put asunder next day by the tribunals. My poor nephew is a silly enthusiast not to have perceived this all along, before he put such absurdities in your head. That he talked gallantry to you was very natural, and I wished him all success; but that he should ever have talked of marriage shows him to be even sillier than I expected from his years."

Here Sidonia's tears burst forth anew. "Who would care for her now that her father was dead, and had left her penniless? All because he believed that old hypocrite of Wolgast more than his own daughter. Alas! alas! she was a poor orphan now! and all her possessions would be torn from her by her hard-hearted, avaricious brother. Yet surely his Grace might at least take pity on her innocence."

His Grace wondered much when he heard of Otto's death, for the letters brought by the market waggon from the honourable council, acquainting him with the matter, had not yet arrived, and he scratched behind his ear, and said, "It was an evil deed of that proud devil her father, to claim the Jena dues. He had got his answer at Wolgast, and ought to have left the dues alone. What right had he to break the peace of the land, to gratify his lust and greed? It was well that he was dead; but as concerning his testament, that must not be interfered with, he had no power over the property of individuals. Each one might leave his goods as best pleased him; yet he would make his treasurer write a letter in her favour to her brother Otto: that was all that he could do."

This threw Sidonia into despair; she fell at his feet, and told him, that let what would become of her, she would never go a step to Zachow, and her harsh brother would never give her one groschen, unless he were forced to it. His Grace ought to remember that it was by his advice she had gone to Wolgast, where all her misery had commenced; for by the traitorous conduct of the widow, there she had been robbed, not only of her good name, but also of her fortune. So his Grace comforted her, and said that as long as he lived she would want for nothing. He had a pretty house behind St. Mary's, and six young maidens lived there, who had nothing to do but spin and embroider, or comb out the beautiful herons' feathers as the birds moulted; for he had a large stock of herons close to the house; and there was a darling little chamber there, which she could have immediately for herself. As to clothes, they might all get the handsomest they pleased, and their meals were supplied from the ducal kitchen.

As his Grace ended, and lifted up Sidonia and kissed her, she wept and sighed more than ever. "Could he think this of her? No; she would never enter the house which was the talk of all Pomerania. If she consented, then, indeed, would the world believe all the falsehoods that were told of her—of her, who was as innocent as a child!" Hereupon his Grace answered stiff and stern (yet this was not his wont, for he was a right tender master), "Then go your ways. Into that house or nowhere else." (Alas! let every maiden take warning, by this example, to guard against the first false step. Amen, chaste Jesus! Amen.)

That evening Sidonia took up her abode in the house. But that same evening there was a great scandalum, and tearing of each other's hair among the girls. For one of them, named Trina Wehlers, was a baker's daughter from Stramehl, and on the occasion of Clara's wedding she had headed a procession of young peasants to join the bridal party, but Sidonia had haughtily pushed her back, and forbid them to approach. This Trina was a fine rosy wench, and my Lord Duke took a fancy to her then, so that she looked with great jealousy on any one that threatened to rob her of his favour. Now when Sidonia entered the house and saw the baker's daughter, she commenced again to play the part of the great lady, but the other only laughed, and mockingly asked her, "Where was the princely spouse, Duke Ernest of Wolgast? Would his Highness come to meet her there?"

Then Sidonia raged from shame and despair, that this peasant girl should dare to insult her, and she ran weeping to her chamber; but when supper was served, the scandalum broke out in earnest. For Sidonia had now grown a little comforted, and as there were many dainty dishes from the Duke's table sent to them, she began to enjoy herself somewhat, when all of a sudden the baker's daughter gave her a smart blow over the fingers with a fork. Sidonia instantly seized her by the hair; and now there was such an uproar of blows, screams, and tongues, that my gracious lord, the Duke, was sent for. Whereupon he scolded the baker's daughter right seriously for her insolence, and told her that as Sidonia was the only noble maiden amongst them, she was to bear rule. And if the others did not obey her humbly, as befitted her rank, they should all be whipped. His Grace wore a patch of black plaister on his chin, and attempted to kiss Sidonia again, but she pushed him away, saying that he must have told all that happened at Wolgast to these girls, otherwise how could the baker's daughter have mocked her about it.

Whereupon my gracious lord consoled her, and said that if she were quiet and well-behaved, he would take her with him to the Diet at Wollin, for all the young dukes of Pomerania were to attend it, and Prince Ernest amongst the number, seeing that he had summoned them all there, in order to give up the government of the land into their hands, as he was too old now himself to be tormented with state affairs.

When Sidonia heard this, hope sprang up within her heart, and she resolved to bear her destiny calmly.