Adelaide of Brunswick/Chapter Five
CHAPTER FIVE
Scarcely was the princess established in the Chateau of Mersburg when she received the following letter:
My squire has told me about what happened to you and I have praised him highly for the help he has given you and for the hiding place which he has proposed. Believe me, it is a good idea to stay there for some time since there is no safety for you anywhere else. The prince is desperate, and wants to find you at any cost; when and if he does, who can guarantee you against his anger? Establish yourself in my castle, and my servants will take care of you in the manner which your rank merits. There at least you will be free; I will be able to give you news of the Marquis of Thuringia and perhaps soon I can bring him to see you. In the meantime, things may have settled down a bit, and I will see to it that you are informed of all that happens. I would offer to take you back to Brunswick, but the anger and jealousy of your husband would follow you there. My states represent the safest place for you at present as a refugee. Do not thank me for this service; it is I who thank you for the honor you do me by staying in my castle.
The same man who has received you will stay near you during your whole visit and you can communicate to him the orders which it will please you to give me. I will answer for his zeal and his intelligence.
Adelaide was much more satisfied after receiving this letter. She thought she was very fortunate to have a friend like Mersburg.
A little after receiving the letter from Mersburg the princess and Bathilda took a walk beside the river.
"Bathilda," said the princess when they were back in the chateau, "did you notice those two men on horseback who followed the road which is parallel to the one we were following?"
"Yes, Milady."
"Well, one of those men was the Prince of Saxony and the other the Count of Mersburg."
"I do not have the honor of knowing your illustrious husband, Milady, but I admit that the one who accompanied him seemed to resemble very much the Count of Mersburg, and although I have seen that gentleman only once when my father sent me to court with a message, I feel sure that Milady is not mistaken."
"But what are they doing in this neighborhood? Mersburg is furnishing me the means of escaping from the fury of the prince, is he going to expose me now to their cruel effects?"
"That is hardly possible, Milady," said Bathilda, "if the count has any such intentions, both of them would already be here."
"Where could they be going in such simple attire? You will have to admit, Bathilda, that it looks as though they are out looking for me."
"But how could they find you as long as the count is along to see to it that the prince looks in the wrong places. Assuredly, he is not going to deliver you to your husband."
"I think you are right, but one fears everything in the cruel position in which I find myself. Whatever happens," continued Adelaide, "all this separates me forever from the one I love. I have confided to you the sentiment I have for the Marquis of Thuringia; I have discovered in you the fine qualities which will guarantee me your discretion. You see, Bathilda, it will be a long time before I see the Marquis again."
"But, Milady, if it were possible to let him know where we are, he would come immediately."
"I fear such imprudences. The pride which I have would not permit me because I would be too humiliated if any such infidelity to my husband were discovered.
"Oh, Milady, political marriages do not chain hearts as real love."
"You are right, Bathilda, I should not blush at my love because it is as pure as the one who has caused it. I have known Thuringia and I have loved him before I was the wife of Frederick, but men in their judgment do not consider the extent of the power of love which we have, and their unjust scorn falls on those who should merit only their indulgence."
At that moment the noise of a horse coming into the courtyard of the castle interrupted their conversation, and very soon they brought to the princess a man who asked to speak to her.
The man explained that he was from a nearby village and that he had been charged to assure the princess that she had no reason to be uneasy about the persons she had seen riding on the edge of the river, that these persons would not go to the chateau and that they were now on the way to Hamburg.
"But who were these persons?"
"I don't know, Milady," responded the messenger, "and as I am not to see them again there is no need for any answer."
"You see," said Bathilda when the man had disappeared, "there was no reason to be alarmed. The Count of Mersburg knows only too well what he owes you in order not to ward off any threat to your security."
"So be it," said the princess, "but I am still worried about the whole situation. It is certain that one of the men we have seen is the prince and the one who accompanied him was Mersburg. Why has the prince left his court? Why would he be traveling in the simple costume of a knight? Where is he going? What is the reason for the mystery which seems to surround all this? Perhaps the prince has executed the unhappy man that I love; perhaps he has found out that his suspicions of the unfortunate Kaunitz were absolutely unfounded and that he has sacrificed Thuringia to his insane jealousy. It is possible that Mersburg has, without knowing it, caused this terrible crime. He knew all the Marquis' secrets, and that is why this sudden trip of the prince worries me. And why didn't that man wait for an answer a little while ago?"
"Could Mersburg receive an answer?" suggested Bathilda. "Since he was obliged to follow your husband, he couldn't delay to wait for any answer nor give the messenger any real knowledge of the message he was sending."
"Oh, Bathilda, now all that seems suspicious! I don't know when my doubts will disappear."
The next day, the princess added a few more reflections that she had had on this subject.
"Would you believe it, my child," she said to Bathilda, "far from tranquilizing me, the message of the count only redoubles my fears. Who can assure me that the prince will not come suddenly to this chateau? If he wants to come, can Mersburg keep him from visiting his chateau? You cannot imagine how imperious Frederick is, his slightest wish is law, and if he decided to come here we are lost. I have made up my mind, Bathilda, I want to leave this chateau; I don't feel in safety. While I believe in Mersburg, I cannot stay in his chateau without terror, and I believe that the only delay we will give to our departure is that needed to make the necessary preparations."
The daughter of the major, absolutely at the orders of the princess could do nothing except acquiesce, and the next day the two of them left for Erfurt, the capital of Thuringia, which was only a few miles from the chateau.
"Here," said Adelaide as they took rooms in a cabaret of the worst type, which was the only type of hotel available to travelers at that time, "here, at least we will receive news of what has happened to the Marquis of Thuringia."
It was indeed the first thing that Adelaide heard.
"Our sovereign master," said the innkeeper, "is now regent of Saxony. Prince Frederick, whose health keeps him away from the affairs of state for some time, has just appointed him to this position while he is traveling to reestablish his health."
"And what has caused this change in his royal health?" asked Adelaide.
"The sorrows which he has received from his wife," answered the innkeeper.
"Ah. And what do they accuse her of?"
"Of an intrigue with young Kaunitz, an officer in the service of the prince. This conduct on the part of the princess," continued the man, "caused such a scandal in the court that she has been imprisoned by Frederick in the citadel of Torgau where they believe that she is condemned to spend the rest of her life. She would do well to stay there because if she ever escaped her life would be in danger."
The innkeeper seemed not to have known that what he had feared had already taken place.
All of this troubled Adelaide so much that she nearly gave herself away; but the art of dissimulating which she had learned on the throne came to her aid, and she was able to keep control until she got to her room.
"That is what I wanted to know," she said to Bathilda, as soon as she had shut the door. "All this makes it quite clear that we should not remain another instant in Saxony. Ah, Frederick, I will get out of reach of your injustices. You deserve having our marriage broken up."
"Milady," said Bathilda, "the one you fear so much is traveling. He is going away from you as fast as possible. Would he do that if he were trying to get rid of you? And besides, you were entirely in his power while you were at Torgau, and he did not attempt to do you any harm."
"That so-called escape was his own work," said the princess. "He wanted to get me out in the open country where he could have me assassinated without having the blood stain the throne. He is away on a trip in order to throw the suspicion on somebody else in case his henchmen succeed in finding me and killing me. He is having the man I love reign because he hopes that I will come to Fredricksburg to be near him and in that way he could get rid of me."
"But if he had been suspicious of Thuringia, would he have sacrificed Kaunitz?"
"A crime is nothing when it is a question of revenge. Anyway, my beloved is on the throne, at least he is in safety."
"Milady, why don't we go to Dresden to be near your father?"
"That would be dangerous and might hurt the Marquis of Thuringia and it might cost me my life, since the prince could easily send his henchmen to Dresden to murder me. Not that my life means much to me; Heaven is my witness that all I want is to live long enough to see the one I love once again. But in this moment, believe me, Bathilda, our surest plan is to leave Saxony until the storm is over. We will come back when things are more propitious."
Once the princess had made up her mind, she quickly made arrangements to leave with a carriage which was going in the direction of Frankfort, which seemed to be the safest place to go.
After a long day of travel, the two women spent the first night at Marburg, at the foot of the mountains which separate Hess from Franconia. The difficulty of crossing these mountains the next day, in a country where there were not yet any roads, caused the princess and Bathilda to spend the night in a rough inn where the driver of the carriage was also going to sleep.
While they were eating, before retiring for the night, a nice looking gentleman approached them.
"Miladies," he said, "you are going towards Frankfort tomorrow, without doubt. I am also going to take the same road, and as it is dangerous and you are alone, I ask your permission to escort you and to procure for you all the help you need and which may contribute to the safety of your trip."
Bathilda, judging other people by the goodness of her own soul and not imagining that one could be otherwise, accepted the offers of the unknown in the name of her mistress.
Adelaide, however, was not so enthusiastic about the offer.
"My child," she said, "I fear that you have accepted the offers of that man without reflecting enough. If I am not mistaken, he has been a soldier in Saxony, and I am quite sure I have seen that face in the citadel of Torgau during my stay there."
"I am sure I have too."
"Well, why did you accept his offer?"
"I was not sure I had seen him then; but now that you have mentioned seeing him, I am sure of it now."
"How can we get rid of him?"
"That is impossible; he would become even more to be feared, if he is really dangerous. Moreover," continued Bathilda, "I have never seen him do anything suspicious. Nothing prevents his offers from being kind, and as he doubtless has no other idea than to receive some money for his services, let's accept. There will be other people along the way and our driver appears to be a good man."
But the firmness of these resolutions disappeared when it was time to leave. The two women both became afraid and when the man appeared, Adelaide said to him in a determined voice that she would rather travel alone than accompanied by a man whom she did not know.
"Milady," said the man, "you are free to do as you wish. I hope that you will not have to repent your refusal of my offer to help you; but I will not go against your wishes."
He disappeared on saying these words and the two women got into the carriage.
When the foot of the mountains was reached, the driver said that it was impossible for his horses to climb such a steep grade if the carriage were loaded and he asked the two women to walk. They agreed, and took with them only their jewelry and money. They walked ahead of the carriage, and in less than an hour, they realized that they had gone so fast and the carriage so slowly that they had lost sight of it.
All alone and seeing nothing around them, the fear of getting too far away caused them to make the decision to wait at the foot of an oak tree whose heavy shadow caused by the thickness of the branches seemed to invite them to its freshness. They had been there only a short time when they suddenly saw the man who had wanted to accompany them from the inn. He came out of a path with two other horsemen.
"Here they are," said this man to his servants. "I knew that they could not escape me. Well, Miladies," he said, "do you still refuse my services?"
"Oh," cried Adelaide, "we are lost!"
"I am afraid you are right," said the man, "moreover, you will be able to judge very soon the fate we are saving for you. You were mistaken if you thought I did not recognize you. The Princess of Saxony is going to know whether she should let her lovers be slain by her barbarous husband; and Bathilda, daughter of Major Kreutzer, will soon be recompensed for her services to her mistress."
"Milady," continued Schinders, the chief of the bandits, "we are the friends and relatives of Kaunitz whose death you caused. I am his brother; these gentlemen are his cousins. Your blood must wipe out the stains made on the reputation of the one who has killed him; we will be satisfied only at that price."
"Well," said the princess, trembling at the sight of the swords which the men unsheathed, "let me shed it here. Of what use is it to take me any farther?"
"No," said Schinders, "that would be too easy a punishment. We want to give justice in proportion to the crime. Let's go."
Then these men having placed the two women on their horses, the whole troop went into the forest by the same road which had just brought them. As they advanced along this narrow route, it became more twisting and impracticable. The old trees which were hanging over the road shaded it to such an extent that although it was the middle of the day, one could scarcely see. After some time they arrived at a clearing where there was a large pond. In the middle of the pond was an old tower completely surrounded by water. A boat rowed by the men took the party to the foot of the tower and they went into the building through an iron door which slammed shut after them with an ominous sound. They were in a dark dungeon which had no windows.
"This is the lodging which has been destined for you, Miladies," said Schinders. "It is a little uncomfortable for a princess accustomed to all the luxury of court life, but it is suitable to one of your merit. If you didn't have your lovers murdered perhaps we would treat you better. Receive, in the meantime, the just punishment which is due you. You see this flax and the tools which are on the table. The punishment to which I condemn you is to make a rope of forty feet. As soon as this rope is finished, it will be cut in two and will be used to hang both of you from the roof of this room. You will not be killed until the rope is finished. Make the work last as long as you wish; our vengeance will be appeased in the end. You will have the consolation of knowing that each of the instants of your life will be used to lead you to your death. The slowness or the promptness will be the measure of your courage; but you will wish for the end of your days in vain, it will come only after you have finished your work. In the meantime, as you will need a little distraction, come see what has been granted you."
And Schinders led his prisoners into a little garden level with the room in which they were going to be prisoners and showing them some spades leaning against an old cypress tree:
"You will each dig here your tomb," he said to them, "and you will try to arrange it in such a fashion that you finish both jobs at the same time. Come, work, Miladies, every month you will receive a visit from me, and I will come when it is time to shorten your lives, whose length you are going to curse while you are busy working to shorten them."
At these words, Schinders went out and the door closed with such a bang that the old tower trembled.
"Do you believe, my dear Bathilda," said Adelaide to her faithful companion, "that there can be two more unfortunate women than we?"
"I do not lose courage, Milady," answered the daughter of the major, "those who have escaped from Torgau can escape from here."
"That is impossible, my dear."
"Let's not give up, Milady. Let's work at the rope. Instead of shortening our days, it may prolong them."
From that time on, the trembling and delicate hands of the Princess of Saxony worked on the most sinister task that it was possible to imagine since the slowness doubled the torments of their lives and the speed hastened the end.
"Alas," said the princess, "isn't this the punishment of all people? The work and pleasure in which they spend their lives bring closer the instant of their death."
Every evening at seven o'clock, a large loaf of coarse bread, some water, and some badly prepared vegetables were brought and once consumed, the unfortunate ones threw themselves on two piles of straw placed in one corner of the dirty and damp room. Nevertheless, they slept; they had reached such an unfortunate situation that it was not possible to have the little torments which trouble rest.
Each morning when Bathilda awoke, she went to help the princess get dressed as she had done ever since she had been in her service. These little attentions helped the princess, since it showed that Bathilda was devoted to her and that it was a feeling of unselfishness which made her continue these duties when the circumstances no longer demanded them.
As soon as Adelaide was dressed, she and Bathilda went to spend an hour or so in the garden which was about the same size as the main room and which had such a high wall that all hope of climbing over it had to be abandoned from the start.
"As for those tools," said Bathilda, on looking at the spades, "if Milady will agree, we will not touch them. I don't want to die here and I especially don't want to dig my own grave. Let's not be sad, and let's eat in the garden under the cypress tree which is supposed to cover our tomb. Let's eat these boiled carrots which they have brought us for our lunch. At least the water is good here; it is fresh. I would not have believed it. It certainly must not come from that stagnant pond which surrounds us."
Then the princess, encouraged by the philosophical gaiety of her companion, imitated her and ate half of the sad looking dish which had been brought them.
"It is fortunate that we still have our money and jewelry," said Adelaide.
"Oh, Milady, those people were not thieves; they were only interested in vengeance."
"But why do they want to take vengeance on me? Did I have anything to do with the death of Kaunitz? Was he my lover? What head would not turn on thinking about all these contradictions?"
"Kaunitz," said Bathilda, "made some kind of rash mistake. The prince was fooled by this mistake, and these people, who have believed only the public rumors, are avenging their brother believing you guilty."
"Well anyway, we will die without knowing the cause of our misfortunes."
"No, Milady, we will know, because we will not die here and we will have the opportunity of knowing everything."
After lunch the two unhappy women began again their somber task.