The Black Spider

by Jeremias Gotthelf

  Eventually they were summoned to the hall of the knights; in front of them the heavy door was opened; inside the dark tanned knights sat round the heavy oak table, fierce dogs at their feet, and at their head was von Stoffeln, a fierce, powerful man who had a bead like a three-liter measure, eyes like cartwheels and a beard like an old lion’s mane. Then the knights laughed so that the wine slopped over their tankards and the dogs darted angrily forward; for as soon as dogs like these see trembling, hesitant limbs they have the idea that they belong to some prey that should be hunted down. The peasants, however, did not feel confident; they thought, if only they were back home, and each tried to hide behind the other. When at last dogs and knights were silent, von Stoffeln raised his voice, and it sounded as if it came from a hundred-year-old oak: ‘My castle is finished, but there is something still missing; summer is coming, and up there there is no avenue of trees to provide a shady walk. In a month you must plant an avenue for me; you must take a hundred full-grown beech-trees from the Münneberg[6] root and branch, and plant them for me on Bärhegen, and if one single beech-tree is missing, I shall make you pay for it with property and life. Down below there is something to eat and drink, but the first beech must be standing on Bärhegen tomorrow.’

  When one of the peasants heard something about food and drink he thought that the knight might be lenient and in a good mood; and he therefore began to talk about their work at home and their hungry wives and children, and the fact that this particular task could be better done in winter. Then the knight’s head seemed to become more and more puffed out with anger, and his voice exploded like a thunderclap amid steep rocks, and he told them that if he were lenient, they were indolent. If someone in Poland was allowed to keep his bare life, he would kiss your feet with gratitude, but here they had children and cattle, a roof over their heads and cupboards to put their things in, and still they were not satisfied. ‘But I will make you more obedient and more contented, as sure as I am Hans von Stoffeln, and if the hundred beech-trees are not planted up there within a month, I’ll have you whipped until there’s not a finger’s length of your skin left whole, and I’ll set the dogs on your women and children.’

  Then nobody dared to remonstrate further, but neither did any one want any of the food and drink; after the angry order had been given, they pressed out to the door, and everyone of them would gladly have been the first to leave, and for a long time after they had gone they were followed by the knight’s voice of thunder and the laughter of the other knights, the jeering of the servants and the howling of the hounds.

  When they came to a turn in the road, where they could no longer be seen from the castle, they sat down by the roadside and wept bitterly; no one had any consolation for his neighbor, and none of them had the courage for real anger, for privation and torments had extinguished their courage, so that they had no more strength left for anger, only enough for despair. They were to transport beech trees, complete with roots and branches, for a three hours’ journey over rough tracks up the steep Münneberg, while close by this hill many fine beeches were growing, but these had to be left standing! Within a month the work had to be finished; they were to drag three trees each of the first two days and four trees every third day, and the hill was steep and their cattle already exhausted. And in addition to all this it was May, the month when the peasant has to work hard in his fields and may hardly leave them by day or night, if he wants to have bread and food for the winter.

  While they were waiting there so disconsolately, none daring to look into the other’s face to see his misery because his own distress already overwhelmed him, and none daring to take the bad news home to his wife and family, there suddenly appeared in front of them, they did not know where he had come from, the tall, lean figure of a green huntsman. A red feather was swaying on his bold -looking cap, a little red beard blazed in his dark face, and a mouth opened between his hooked nose and pointed chin, almost invisible like a cavern beneath overhanging rocks, and uttered the question: ‘What’s the matter, good people, that u are sitting and moaning like this, as if to force the rocks out of the earth and the branches down from the trees?’ Twice he asked thus, and twice he received no answer.

  Then the green huntsman’s dark face became even darker and his little red beard became even redder, so that it seemed to be crackling and sparkling like pine wood on fire; his mouth pursed itself sharply like an arrow and then opened to ask quite pleasingly and gently: ‘But good people, what use is it your sitting and moaning there? You could go on howling like that till a second Flood comes or till your shrieking brings down the stars from the sky, but that’s not likely to help you very much. But when somebody asks you what’s wrong, somebody who means well by you and could possibly help you, you ought to answer and say something sensible instead of crying out loud; that might be more use to you.’ At that an old man shook his white head of hair and replied, ‘Don’t take it amiss, but no huntsman can take away the cause of our weeping, and once the heart is swollen with grief it can find words no longer.’

  Then the green huntsman shook his sharp head and said, ‘Father, what you say is not stupid, but that’s not the way things are. You can strike anything you please, a rock or a tree, and it will utter a sound, it will lament. A man too should lament, should lament about everything, should complain to the first person he meets, for perhaps this person can help him. I am only a huntsman, but who knows whether I haven’t got an efficient team of cattle at home to transport wood and stones or beech-trees and pines?’

  When the poor peasants heard the word ‘team,’ it went straight to their hearts and there became a spark of hope; all eyes turned towards the huntsman, and the old man opened his mouth once more; he said it was not always right to tell the first person you met what was on your mind; but since they could tell from his words that he meant well and that he might perhaps help, they wouldn’t hide anything from him. They had suffered now for more than two years from the building of the new castle, and there was not a single household in the whole community which was not in bitter distress. Now they had taken fresh breath, thinking that they would at last have their hands free for their own work, the administration had just given them the order to plant within one month by the new castle a new avenue of beech-trees taken from the Münneberg. They did not know how they could accomplish this in the time with their exhausted cattle; and if they did accomplish the task, what use would it be to them? They would not then be able to plant and to sow their own fields and would have to die of starvation later, even if the hard work for the knight had not killed them before that. They were reluctant to take this news to their homes, for they did not want to pour new grief on to old misery.

  Then the green huntsman made a sympathetic face, lifted up his long, thin, black hand threateningly against the castle and swore deep vengeance for such tyranny. But he would help the peasants, he said. His equipment was like none other in the country, and as many trees as they could bring to Kilchstalden (‘church slope’), on this side of Sumiswald, he would transport from there to Bärhegen, as a favor to them and to spite the knights and for very little payment.

  The poor men pricked up their ears on hearing this unexpected offer. If they could only make an agreement about the payment, they were saved, for they could bring the beech-trees to Kilchstalden without neglecting their farm work on account of this task and consequently without being utterly ruined. The old man therefore said, ‘Well, tell us what you require, so that we can make an agreement!’ Then the green huntsman showed a cunning face; his little beard crackled, and his eyes gleamed at them like snakes’ eyes, and a hideous laugh came from the two comers of his mouth as be opened his lips and spoke, ‘As I was saying, I don’t ask for much, nothing more than an unbaptized child.’

  The word flashed at the men like lightning, scales fell from their eyes, and like spray in a whirlwind they scattered in different directions.

  Then the green huntsman laughed out loud, so that the fish in the str
eam hid themselves and the birds sought cover in the thicket, and the feather swayed horribly on his hat while his little beard went up and down.

  ‘Think it over, or see what your womenfolk have got to say about it; you’ll find me here again in three nights’ time!’ He called after the men in flight in a sharp, resounding voice, so that the words remained fixed in their ears as arrows with barbed hooks stay stuck in flesh.

  Pale and trembling in mind as in all their limbs, the men rushed home; none looked round at one of the others, not one would have turned his head round, not for everything in the world. When the men came rushing along in this scared way, like doves that have been chased by a hawk into their dovecote, they brought terror with them into all the houses, and everybody trembled fearfully to hear what news it was that had made the men stumble and hasten in such confusion.

  Quivering with curiosity the womenfolk crept after the men until they had them in some quiet place where confidences could be exchanged undisturbed. There each man had to tell his wife what had been heard in the castle, and the women received the news with curses and fury; the men had to relate whom they had met and what he had proposed to them. Then nameless fear seized hold of the women, a cry of pain resounded over hills and valley, and each woman felt as if it were her own child that the ruthless huntsman had demanded. Only one woman did not cry out like the rest. This was a terribly forceful woman, who was said to have come from Lindau and who lived here on this very farm. She had wild, black eyes and had little fear of God or man. She had already been angry with the men for not refusing the knight’s demands there and then; if she had been there, she’d have told him straight, she said. When she heard about the green huntsman and his offer and how the men had rushed away, she really did become angry and reviled the men for their cowardice; if they had looked the green huntsman more boldly in the face, he might perhaps have contented himself with some other payment, and as the work was to be for the castle, it would do their souls no harm if the devil undertook it for them. She was enraged at heart because she had not been there, even if only that she could have seen the devil himself and known what he looked like. That is why this woman did not weep, but in her fury uttered hard words against her own husband and against all the other men.

  On the following day, when the cry of dismay had subsided into a quiet whimpering, the men sat together, looking for wise counsel, but finding none. At first there was talk of making a fresh request to the knight, but nobody was willing to go to make a petition, for nobody wanted to risk life and limb. One man suggested sending the women and children with their crying and moaning, but he soon became silent when the women themselves began to talk; for already in those days women were not far away when the menfolk took counsel together. The women knew of no other plan except to attempt obedience in God’s name; they suggested having masses sung in order to obtain God’s protection, or requesting neighbors to give them secret help by night, for their lords would not have allowed outside help openly; they thought of splitting up, the one half to work at the beech-trees, while the other half should sow oats and look after the cattle. In this way they hoped with God’s help to bring up to Bärhegen at least three beeches a day; nobody mentioned the green huntsman; whether anyone thought of him or not, is not recorded.

  They divided themselves up and prepared their tools, and when the first May morning appeared at its threshold, the men met at the Münneberg and began the work with good heart. The beeches had to be dug up in a wide circle in order to spare the roots and then lowered carefully to the ground. The morning was still not yet far advanced when three trees lay ready to be moved, for it had been decided that they should always transport three together, so that the men could help each other out with their cattle as well as with the strength of their hands. But when midday came, they still had not got the three beech-trees out of the forest, and when the sun went down behind the mountains, the teams had still not gone further than Sumiswald. It was not until the next morning that they reached the foot of the hill on which the castle stood and where the beeches were to be planted. It was as if a special unlucky star had power over them. One misfortune after another befell them; harnesses snapped, carts broke, horses and oxen fell down or else refused obedience. On the second day matters became even worse. New distress inevitably brought new toil with it, the wretched folk were breathless with the unceasing labor, and still there was no beech-tree up at the top, and only three trees had been transported any further than Sumiswald.

  Von Stoffeln reviled and cursed; the more he reviled and cursed, the greater influence the unlucky start seemed to have, and the cattle became all the more stubborn. The other knights laughed and mocked and took great pleasure in the terrified floundering of the peasants and in von Stoffeln’s anger. They had laughed at von Stoffeln’s new castle built on the naked hill-top. Because of that he had vowed that there must be a beautiful avenue up there within a month’s time. That was why he cursed and the knights laughed, while the peasants wept. These last were seized by a terrible despair, for they no longer had a single cart that was not damaged, nor any team of cattle that was not harmed, nor had three beech-trees been brought to the proper place within three days, and all strength had been exhausted.

  Night had fallen, black clouds had gathered and there was lightning for the first time this year. The men had sat down by the roadside; it was the same turning of the road where they had sat three days earlier, but they did not realize this. There the Hornbach peasant, the husband of the woman from Lindau, was sitting with a couple of farm-servants, and some others were also seated with them. They wanted to wait at that spot for beech-trees that were supposed to be arriving from Sumiswald; they wanted to think over their misery undisturbed and to rest their bruised limbs.

  Then a woman came along with a great basket on her head, moving so rapidly that there was almost a whistling, like the wind when it has been let loose out of closed spaces. It was Christine, the woman from Lindau whom the Hornbach peasant had taken on one occasion when he had gone on a warring expedition with his lord. She was not the sort of woman who is happy to be at home, to fulfil her duties in quietness and to care only for home and family. Christine wanted to know what was going on, and if she could not give her advice about something, it would turn out badly, or so she thought. For this reason she had not sent a maid with the food, but had taken the heavy basket on her own head and had been looking for the men for a long time without success; she left fall bitter words on the subject as soon as she had found them.

  In the meantime, however, she had not been idle, for she could talk and work at the same time. She put down her basket, took the lid off the saucepan containing porridge, set out the bread and cheese in orderly fashion and placed the spoons in the porridge for her husband and his servants, and also told the others to set to as well, if they were still without food. Then she asked about the men’s work, and how much had been accomplished in the two days. But the men had lost all appetite and all wish to talk; no one seized his spoon, and none had an answer. There was only one frivolous little farm-servant fellow who didn’t care whether there was rain or sunshine at harvest-time, provided the year took its course and he had his wages and food on the table every mealtime; he seized his spoon and informed Chris tine that still no single beech-tree had been planted and that everything was happening as if they had been bewitched.

  Then the woman from Lindau mocked and scolded them, saying that this was nothing but vain imagining and that the men were behaving with the weakness of a woman in child-bed; they would bring no beech-trees to Bärhegen, whether they toiled and wept or sat down and cried. It would be their own fault if the knight let them feel his wanton malice; but for the sake of the women and children the matter would have to be handled differently. Then a long black hand came suddenly over the woman’s shoulder, and a piercing voice called, ‘Yes, she’s right!’ And in their midst stood the green huntsman with his grinning face, and the red feather tossed on his hat. Immediately terror
drove the men away from the spot; they scattered up the slope like chaff in a whirlwind.

  Christine, the woman from Lindau, was the only one who could not flee; she was learning what it means to talk about the devil and then be confronted by him in person. She stood as if transfixed by magic, compelled to stare at the red feather on his cap and to watch how the little red beard moved merrily up and down in the black face. The green huntsman gave a piercing laugh as the men disappeared, but he put on an amorous expression towards Christine and took her hand with a polite gesture. Christine wanted to withdraw it, but she could no longer escape the green huntsman; it seemed to her as if flesh were spluttering between red-hot tongs. And he began to speak fine words, and as he spoke his little red beard gleamed and moved lustfully up and down. He had not seen such a handsome little woman for a long time, he said, and it made his heart glad within his breast; what is more, he liked them bold, and in particular he liked those women best who could stay behind when the menfolk ran away. As he went on speaking in this way, the green huntsman appeared to Christine to became ever less terrifying. You could talk with a man like that, all the same, she thought, and she didn’t see why she should run away, she had seen far uglier men than him before now. The thought came to her more and more that something could be done with a man like that, and if you knew how to talk to him in the right way, he would surely do you a favor, or in any case you could cheat him, just as you could cheat any other men. The green huntsman went on to say that he really did not know why people were so frightened by him, his intentions were so good towards everybody, and if people were so rude towards him, they mustn’t be surprised if he did not always do to people what they most wanted. Then Christine took heart and told him that after all he did frighten people so much that it was terrible. Why had he demanded an unbaptized child, he surely could have spoken of other payment, that would seem so suspect to people, after all a child was a human being, and no Christian would go so far as to give away a child that was unbaptized. ‘That is my payment, to which I am accustomed, and I shan’t do the work for any other, and in any case why should any notice be taken of such a child that nobody as yet knows? It is when they are so young that you can give them away most easily, after all you have had neither pleasure nor trouble from them as yet. But the younger I can have them, the better, for the earlier I can bring up a child in my own way, the further I can mold it; but for that I don’t need any christening, and won’t have it either.’ Then indeed Christine saw that he would content himself with no other reward; however, the thought took root in her ever more firmly that this one would be unique if he could not be deceived!