Now the Grand Chamberlain was well aware that no good would result from having Sidonia brought to a public trial, because the whole court was on her side.
Therefore he called Marcus Bork, her cousin, to him in the night, and bid him take her and her luggage away next morning before break of day, and never stop or stay until they reached Duke Barnim's court at Stettin. The wind was half-way round now, and before nightfall they might reach Oderkruge. He would first just write a few lines to his Highness; and when Marcus had made all needful preparation, let him come here to his private apartment and receive the letter. He had selected him for the business because he was Sidonia's cousin, and also because he was the only young man at the castle whom the wanton had not ensnared in her toils.
But that night Ulrich had reason to know that Sidonia and her lovers were dangerous enemies; for just as he had returned to his little room, and seated himself down at the table, to write to his Grace of Stettin the whole business concerning Sidonia, the window was smashed, and a large stone came plump down upon the ink-bottle close beside him, and stained all the paper. As Ulrich went out to call the guard, Appelmann, the equerry, came running up to him, complaining that his lordship's beautiful horse was lying there in the stable groaning like a human creature, for that some wretches had cut its tail clean off.
Ille.—"Were any of the grooms in the stable lately? or had he seen any one go by the window?"
Hic.—"No; it was impossible to see any one, on account of the darkness; but he thought he had heard some one creeping along by the wall."
Ille.—"Let him come then, fetch a lantern, and summon all the grooms; he would give it to the knaves. Had he heard anything of her Highness recently?"
Hic.—"A maid told him that her Grace was better, and had retired to rest."
Ille.—"Thank God. Now they might go."
But as they proceeded along the corridor, which was now almost quite dark, the old knight suddenly received such a blow upon his hat that the beautiful aigrette was broken, and he himself thrown against the wall with such violence that he lay a quarter of an hour insensible; then he shook his grey head. What could that mean? Had Appelmann seen any one?
Hic.—"Ah! no; but he thought he heard steps, as if of some one running away."