Sidonia The Sorceress, vol 2 | Page 7

with the maid who acted as cook in the convent
kitchen, and said she never got a morsel fit to eat. And the said maid (I
forget her name now) having salted the fish too much one day, she ran
after her with a broom-stick--once, indeed, beat her so severely, that
she was lame her life long after.
But worse than the fish-salting was the white kerchief which the maid
wore. For people, she said, might take her at a distance to be one of the
honourable convent ladies, therefore she must wear a coloured one.
This the maid would not do, so she was soon brought to an untimely
end also, along with all others who displeased her.
These things, and many more, came out upon her trial, but for divers
reasons I must pass them over. All her notes, messages, and letters, she
entrusted to the porter, Matthias Winterfeld, who was often sent, may
be five times a week, by her to Stargard. But he dared not remonstrate,
or she would have struck him with the broom-stick.
However, all this is nothing in comparison with the way she treated the
unfortunate nuns. The younger and prettier they were, so much the
more she boxed, beat, and martyred them, even striking them with the
broom-stick. And if they ever smiled or seemed happy talking to one
another, she abused and reviled them, calling them idle wantons, who
thought of nothing but matrimony. None were permitted outside the
convent gates, not even to visit their parents: they should not be flying
back with their crumbs of gossip about brides and weddings, forsooth,
and such-like improper thoughts. Neither should they go to the annual
fair. She would go herself and buy everything for them she thought
needful, only let them give her the gold.
And out of deadly fear the poor maidens bore this tyranny long while
silently; even the abbess feared to complain, so that Sidonia soon
usurped the entire government of the convent.
But the powder-mill broke out at last into vivid flames, as I shall
narrate here. It was on this wise:--Amongst the novices was one

beautiful young maiden, Ambrosia von Guntersberg by name. She was
fifth daughter of old Ambrosius of Falkenwald, a little town near
Jacobshagen. One day a young nobleman called Ewald von Mellenthin
beheld her in her cloister habit. Think you he forgot her? No, he can
never forget the maiden! One, two weeks pass over, but she has sunk
deeper and deeper into his heart; at last he rose up and went to
Falkenwald to her father, Ambrosius, asking her hand in honourable
marriage.
Now, the old man was well pleased, for he was poor, and had five
daughters; so he bid the young noble write a letter to his daughter
Ambrosia, which he would inclose in one from himself to her. But no
answer arrived from the maiden (we may guess why, for Sidonia
opened and read all the letters that came to the convent, before they
were handed to their owners. Those that displeased her she burned; no
doubt, therefore, the love-letter was the first in the flames). But the
young noble grew impatient for an answer, and resolved to ride to
Marienfliess. So he ties his good horse to a cross in the churchyard,
walks straight up to the convent, and rings the bell. Immediately the old
porter, Matthias, opened to him, with his hands covered with blood (for
he was killing a fat ox for the nuns, close by); whereupon the noble
lord prayed to speak a few words to the young novice Ambrosia von
Guntersberg, at the grating; and in a little time the beautiful maiden
appeared, tripping along the convent court (but Sidonia is before her).
Ambrosia advanced modestly to the grating, and asked the handsome
knight, "What was his pleasure?" who answered, "Since I beheld you in
Guntersberg, dearest lady, my heart has been wholly yours; and when I
saw how diligently and cheerfully you ruled your father's house during
his sickness, I resolved to take you for my wife, if such were possible;
for I need a good and prudent spouse at my castle of Lienke, and
methinks no better or more beautiful could be found than yourself.
Therefore I obtained your father's permission to open the matter to you
in writing, and he inclosed my letter in one of his own; but you have
neither answered one nor the other. Whereupon, in my impatience, I
saddled my good horse, and rode over here to have an answer at once
from your own beautiful lips."
When Sidonia heard this, she grew black in the face with rage--"What!
in her presence, before her very face, to dare to hold such language to a

young maiden--a mere child--who knew