🧚 Legends and Tales., part 6

"'Thou bloodthirsty man, thou shalt henceforth no more hunt, but be hunted; thou shalt be thyself a stag in the place of the one thou hast killed, and shalt wander in these preserves centuries long.'1

"And at these words the Earl's son was transformed into that of the stag, and that is the White Stag of the Hagedorn."2

The raven nodded three times with his head in confirmation of his tale, and remained silent.3

And Fischersche asked further: "'Say on, raven, who knowest all things, if and how the enchantment may be broken."4

Immediately the other raven rose, flapped his wings and cried:5

"Kra!6 Kra!7 Kra--h!8 Ja!9 Ja!10 Ja!"11

"It was a deed of blood!12 Blood can break the enchantment.13 If a hunter who has never shed blood gives him blood that belongs neither to man nor beast, and he both drinks and eats it at the same time, the enchantment of the White Stag is broken."14

Fischersche would inquire further, but the ravens both remained silent, shook their heads, spread rustling their wings, and flew forth, one up the other down the roaring Bode, to their Hort[1] in the steep rocks of the Bodethal, which still bear the name of the Rabenstein.15 [2]16

[1] Safe retreat in the rocks; usually applied to the eagle.17

[2] Ravens' cliffs.18

When the ravens had disappeared, Fischersche sank in deep thought, and seemed to forget the presence of Weidemann.19

"That is a dark saying," she at length said, breaking the silence, and muttered thoughtfully to herself. "20 Just wait, just wait, I begin to see through the thing.21 How was it, then?22 Who can break the enchantment?"23

"A hunter who has never shed blood," replied Weidemann.24

"And where may we find such an one?"25

"Probably nowhere."26

Fischersche looked at him oddly, while a smile flitted over her wrinkled face.27

"Tell me, then, hast thou ever shed blood?"28

The man started at the question.29

"God forbid!" cried he hastily. "30 How canst thou imagine anything so dreadful of me?"31

"Well, well, I did not mean it so badly.32 I know now where I am, and listen well.33 Thou thyself canst break the enchantment.34 Thou art called Weidemann,[3] because thy ancestor was ranger to the knights of the Treseburg; and dost thou not say thou hast never shed blood?35 So a Weidemann is found, and it is clear why the White Stag has approached thee: he sees in thee his deliverer."36

[3] _Weidemann_, or _Waldemann_, signifies sportsman--hunter--ranger.37

The good Weidemann was speechless with astonishment, but doubted not the truth of Fischersche's words.38

"But the blood," he said meditatively--"the blood that I must give him both to eat and drink; the blood that shall neither be of man nor beast--whence shall it come?"39

"That is thy affair," said Fischersche, dryly. "40 That belongs to thy department; for if the blood must not belong to the animal, perhaps it might be found in the vegetable kingdom.41 Reflect upon it thyself."42

And Weidemann leaned his head on his hand in deep thought.43

Suddenly his face grew bright, he sprang up and almost fell on the neck of old Fischersche.44

"I have it!45 I have it!" he exclaimed joyfully. "46 That is the Hypericon, or St. John's Wort.47 It drops blood on St. John's Eve and St. John's Day, and to-morrow will be St. John's Day, and the flower grows abundantly by my garden fence."48

Accordingly the next morning he cut a bunch of the St. John's Wort, in which at this time all wonder-power lies, and carried it to the White Stag on the Hagedorn.49 The stag sprang impetuously forward to meet him, and hardly had he eaten the plants, when the stag took the form of a stately youth, in knightly gold-embroidered doublet, streaming plume in his barret, and baldrick worked in gold and antlers.50 With beaming countenance and sparkling eyes he embraced the astonished Weidemann, and cried: "Have thanks, thou honest man; thou hast released me, and shalt not go unrewarded.51 My father, when I return home, will bestow a rich reward on the deliverer of his son.52 But tell me.53 I see there only ruins, where once a strong castle raised its towers.54 Who has destroyed it, and where is the radiant daughter of the Treseburg?"55

"Ah, Herr!" replied the herb-gatherer sadly, "so long as I can remember, and my parents and grandparents, no castle has stood there, and neither knight nor maiden has dwelt in its broken walls.56 Dost thou, then, not know that long centuries have passed since thy enchantment began?"57

"Centuries?" cried the young noble in horror.58

"Yes, centuries!" exclaimed a scorn-laughing voice, and the Waldfrau stood before them; "that is thy punishment for thy criminal deed.59 Now go and seek thy lordly family and thy beloved; thou wilt find them mouldering in the vault of the dead.60

"Thou mayest find rest, now thy enchantment is broken.61 But thy punishment is not yet at an end.62 Every seven years, on this day, thou shalt take the form of my slain White Stag for a single day, and appear on this spot."63

With these words the Waldfrau vanished.64

The youth shuddered, and said, deeply sighing: "Is it so?65 Is my age so far in the past?66 Then truly I have nothing more to find in life.67 Neither can I find treasures at home to reward thee, honest man.68 Thou must be contented with my baldrick, all that I can give thee, with God's blessing."69

And giving him the baldrick, he walked away and was seen no more.70

And sometimes still, on St. John's Day, the White Stag is seen on the Hagedorn, gazing with fixed eyes into the peaceful vale.71

The Fisherman of Treseburg.72

From the windings of the Bode, a huge greenstone rock rises steep and rugged, partially overgrown with the _Planta genista_, or wild broom, and creeping plants, nearly its entire base being washed by the waves of the clear mountain stream.73

On its summit, half hidden by moss and wild thorns, are grey ruins of a castle, of which no trace of its history is left to us save its name--the Treseburg.74

At the foot of this massive rock, on the opposite bank of the Bode, stood, nearly two hundred years ago, a small cottage, in which dwelt a poor but good fisherman, who earned but a scanty subsistence from the fruits of his toil.75

At that time thousands of strangers did not, as now, visit the sublime rocky valley, to enjoy its wild and savage grandeur, and its trout and merlins, and the poor man, though naturally of a contented mind, often murmured at his poverty.76

Also the romantic situation of his cottage satisfied him no longer, and when he looked across the Bode to the mighty rock, and the ruins on its top, all sorts of foolish and ambitious thoughts crowded his mind.77

These reflections were all the more bitter since there was a tradition in the village that he himself was a descendant of the ancient Ritter who once ruled in the Treseburg.78

And in fancy he pictured the old Schloss in its former state, throned on the proud rock, with giant round tower, and arched entrance gates, and Gothic windows, the battlements covered with soldiers in steel harness, with sword and lance.79

Thus he frequently sat hours at a time by his nets, lost in dreams, ever glancing again across to the wild ruins, and wishing the long-vanished centuries back again.80

Once--it was a St. John's day--he saw a Graumännchen[1] on the other side of the stream, who evidently wished to cross, but did not venture to wade through, since the waters had risen in the late thunderstorm, and there was at that time no bridge.81