But, fortunately, some time before the riot began, both had gone out by the little private gate, to attend afternoon service at St. Peter's Church, in the town. For the archdeacon was sick, and Doctor Gerschovius was obliged to take his place there. No one, therefore, was left in the castle to give orders or hold command; even the castellan had gone to hear service; and no one minded Prince Ernest, he was so young, besides being under tutelage; and as to old Zitsewitz, he was as bad as the worst of them himself.
The Prince threatened to have the castle bells rung if they were not quiet; and the uproar had indeed partially subsided just at the moment the serpent knight fell upon Appelmann. The Prince then ordered his equerry to leave the place instantly, under pain of his severe displeasure, for he saw that both had drunk rather deeply.
So Appelmann turned to depart as the Prince commanded, but Wedig, who had been relieved by Hans the serpent, sprung after him with his dagger, limping though, for the bite in his hip made him stiff. Appelmann darted through the little water-gate and over the bridge; the other pursued him; and Appelmann, seeing that he was foaming with rage, jumped over the rails into a boat. Wedig attempted to do the same, but being stiff from the bite, missed the boat, and came down plump into the water.
As he could not swim, the current carried him rapidly down the stream before the others had time to come up; but he was still conscious, and called to Hans, "Comrade, save me!" So Hans, forgetting his heavy cuirass, plunged in directly, and soon reached the drowning man. Wedig, however, in his death-struggles, seized hold of him with such force that they both instantly disappeared. Then every one sprang to the boats to try and save them; but being Sunday, the boats were all moored, so that by the time they were unfastened it was too late, and the two unfortunate young men had sunk for ever.
What calamities may be caused by the levity and self-will of a beautiful woman! From the time of Helen of Troy up to the present moment, the world has known this well; but, alas! this was but the beginning of that tragedy which Sidonia played in Pomerania, as that other wanton did in Phrygia.
Let us hear the conclusion, however. Prince Ernest, now being truly alarmed, despatched a messenger to the church for her Highness; but as Doctor Gerschovius had not yet ended his exordium, her Grace would by no means be disturbed, and desired the messenger to go to Ulrich, who no sooner heard the tidings than he rushed down to the water-gate. There he found a great crowd assembled, all eagerly trying, with poles and hooks, to fish out the bodies of the two young men; and one fellow even had tied a piece of barley bread to a rope, and flung it into the water—as the superstition goes that it will follow a corpse in the stream, and point to where it lies. And the women and children were weeping and lamenting on the bridge; but the old knight pushed them all aside with his elbows, and cried—"Thousand devils! what are ye all at here?"
Every one was silent, for the young men had agreed not to betray Sidonia. Then Ulrich asked the Prince, who replied, that Marintzky, having put on some old armour to frighten the others, as he believed, they pursued him in fun over the bridge, and he and another fell over into the water. This was all he knew of the matter, for he was playing on the lute in the garden when the tumult began.
"Thousand devils!" cries Ulrich; "I cannot turn my back a moment but there must be a riot amongst the young fellows. Listen! young lord—when it comes to your turn to rule land and people, I counsel you, send all the young fellows to the devil. Away with them! they are a vain and dissolute crew. Get up the bodies, if you can; but, for my part, I would care little if a few more were baptized in the same way. Speak! some of you: who commenced this tavern broil? Speak! I must have an answer."
This adjuration had its effect, for a man answered—"Sidonia made the young men mad, and so it all happened." It was her own cousin, Marcus Bork, who spoke, for which reason Sidonia never could endure him afterwards, and finally destroyed him, as shall be related in due time.
When Ulrich found that Sidonia was the cause of all, he raged with fury, and commanded them to tell him all. When Marcus had related the whole affair, he swore by the seven thousand devils that he would make her remember it, and that he would instantly go up to her chamber.