The Black Spider (10 page)

At that the priest was inflamed by the sacred fighting urge which comes upon those whose hearts are dedicated to God as son as they sense the imminence of the evil one; it comes like the growth of life upon the seed of corn or the opening flower or upon the warrior who is confronted by his opponent’s drawn sword. And the priest rushed down the slope like a thirsting man towards the cool waters of a river or a hero into battle, rushed into fiercest battle, thrust himself between the green huntsman and Christine as she was about to place the child in the evil one’s arms, and hurled the three holy names into their midst; he holds up the holy implement before the green huntsman’s face, dashes holy water over the child and at the same time catches Christine with it. Thereupon the green huntsman makes off with a terrifying howl of pain, flashing by like a red-hot strip until the earth swallows him up; after being touched by the holy water Christine shrivels up with a frightful hissing; like wool in a fire or quicklime in water, shrivels up, hissing and flame-spraying, until nothing remains but the black, swollen, ghastly spider in her own face, shrivels into it, hisses into it, and now this spider sits distended with poison and defiant, right on the child, and shoots angry flashes of lightning from her eyes at the priest. The latter throws holy water at her, which hisses like ordinary water on a hot stone; the spider grows bigger and bigger, and extends her black legs further and further over the child, glaring ever more poisonously at the priest; with the courage of his burning faith the priest now stretches out a daring hand towards her. It is as if he were plunging his hand into red-hot thorns, but he holds fast undeterred, hurls the verminous creature away, picks up the child and takes it to the mother without further delay.

And as the priest’s struggle ended, the battle of the clouds abated too, and they hurried off to their dark chambers; soon the valley in which the fiercest battle had just been raging was shimmering in the quiet light of the stars, and almost breathlessly the priest reached the house where the crime had been committed against mother and child.

The mother was still lying in a faint, for she had lost consciousness after emitting her piercing cry; the old woman sat praying by her side, for she still trusted God and believed His strength was greater than the devil’s wickedness. By returning the child the priest also restored life to the mother. When she saw her baby again as she awoke, she was permeated by a rapture such as is only known to the angels in heaven, and the priest baptized the child as it lay in its mother’s arms in the name of God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit; and now the infant was snatched from the devil’s power for ever, unless it should at some future time submit of its own accord to the evil one. But God protected the infant from this fate; the newborn soul was given into God’s care, while the body lay poisoned by the spider.

Soon the soul departed from this life, and the little body was marked as if by burns. The poor mother wept indeed, but when each part returns to where it belongs, the soul to God, the body to the earth, consolation will come, more quickly to one person perhaps, and more slowly to another.

As soon as the priest had fulfilled his holy office, he began to feel a strange itching in the hand and arm with which he had hurled away the spider. He noticed small, black blotches on his hand which grew visibly larger and swelled up; the shudder of death penetrated to his heart. He gave the two women his blessing and hurried home, wishing, faithful warrior that he was, to bring back the holy weapons to the place where they belonged, so that they might be at hand for his successor. His arm became distended, and black boils swelled up more and more fiercely; he was fighting against the exhaustion of death, but did not succumb to it.

When he came to the Kilchstalden he saw Hans, the godless father whose whereabouts had been known to nobody, lying on his back in the middle of the road. His face was terribly swollen and black with bums, and there sitting right on top of him was the spider, big, black and gruesome. When the priest came, it puffed itself up, its hairs stood poisonously on end on its back, its eyes glared fiercely at him, and it was behaving like a cat which is preparing to spring at the face of a deadly enemy. Then the priest began to say a prayer and lifted up the holy implements, so that the spider cringed in terror and slunk on its long legs away from the black face until it was concealed in the hissing grass. After that the priest went on home, where he put the holy implements in their proper place, and while fierce pains were racking his body to death, his soul wailed in sweet contentment for God, on Whose account it bad been so valiantly fighting the good fight; and God did not let the soul wait long.

But such sweet peace which waits patiently on the will of the Lord was not to be found down in the valley or up on the hills.

From the moment when Christine had snatched the child and rushed with it down the hill towards the devil, a desperate terror had seized all hearts. During the terrible storm the people were trembling in fear of death, for they knew well enough in their hearts that if God’s hand should come upon them and destroy them, it would be a visitation more than well deserved. When the storm was over, the news spread from house to house that the priest had brought back the baby and baptized it, but that neither Hans nor Christine had been seen.

The gray light of early morning revealed that all faces were pale, and the beautiful sun gave them no color, for everyone knew well enough that the worst horror was yet to come. Then people heard that the priest had died covered with black tumors, and Hans was found with his terrible face, while strangely confused reports were told of Christine’s transformation into the dreadful spider.

It was a fine day for harvesting, but no hands set to work; people came together as they do on the day after the day on which a great misfortune has happened. Now for the first time they truly felt in their vacillating souls what it means to consent to buy oneself off with an immortal soul from earthly trouble and distress; now they felt that there was a God in heaven Who would avenge Himself terribly for all the injustice that is done to poor children who cannot defend themselves. So they stood together trembling and whining, and anyone who was with a group felt he could not return home; but then they would begin arguing and quarrelling, the one would blame the other, everyone claimed that he had warned them and told them so earlier, and nobody minded punishment being meted out to the guilty ones, so long as he and his house might go unscathed. And if they had known of some new, innocent victim while they stood there in their terrible suspense and quarrelsome spirit, not one of them would have hesitated to make a criminal sacrifice in the hope of saving his own skin.

Then one of them shrieked out in terror in the midst of the crowd; he felt as if he had put his foot on a searing thorn, as if a red-hot nail were being driven through his foot on to the ground, as if fire were streaming through the marrow of his bones. The crowd scattered, and all eyes gazed upon the foot towards which the screaming man was reaching down with his hand. But on the foot the spider was seated, black and gross, staring poisonously and gloatingly at the people around. Then they felt the blood freezing in their veins and their breath freezing in their lungs, while their eyes were fixed in a petrified glance; the spider stared round at them quietly and maliciously, and the man’s foot became black, and his body seemed as if it were a battlefield between raging fire and hissing water; fear burst the bonds of terror, and the crowd dispersed in all directions. The spider, however, had relinquished its first seat with miraculous speed, and now it crawled over this man’s foot and that man’s heel, so that fire pierced their bodies and their ghastly screaming impelled the others to even more hasty flight. They rushed towards their homes with the speed of the whirlwind, in dreadful fear like that of the ghostly prey pursued by the wild huntsmen, and everyone thought that the spider was at his back; they bolted their house­-doors behind them, but still did not stop trembling in unspeakable terror.

And one day the spider had disappeared; no fresh death screams were heard, people had to go out of their bolted houses to look for food for themselves and their cattle, deathly though their fear was. For where was the spider now, and might it not be just here and plant itself without warning on their feet? And he who walked most carefully and used his eyes most sharply was the one who found the spider suddenly sitting on his hand or his foot, running over his lace, or sitting black and gross on his nose and leering into his eyes; blazing thorns dug into his limbs, the fire of hell swept over him and death laid him low.

Thus it was that the spider was now here, now there, now nowhere, now down in the valley, now up on the hills; it hissed through the grass, fell from the roof or sprang up from the ground. When people were sitting over the midday meal of porridge, it would appear gloating at the far end of the table, and before they had had time to scatter in terror, the spider had run over all their hands and was sitting on the head of the father of the family, staring over the table at the blackening hands. It would fall upon people’s faces at night, it would encounter them in the forest or descend upon them in the cattle-shed. No one could avoid it, for it was nowhere and everywhere; no one could screen himself from it while he was awake, and when be was asleep there was no protection. When someone thought himself to be safest, in the open air or in a treetop, then fire would crawl up his back, and the spider’s fiery feet could be felt in his neck as it stared over his shoulder. It spared neither infant in the cradle nor the old man on his deathbed; it was a plague more deadly than any that had been known before, and it was a form of death more terrible than any that bad been previously experienced, and what was still more terrible than the death-agony was the nameless fear of the spider which was everywhere and nowhere and which would suddenly be fixing its death-dealing stare on someone when he fancied that be was most secure.

The news of this terror had naturally reached the castle without delay and had brought fright and quarrelling there too, as far as such was possible within the rules of the Order. Von Stoffeln was fearful lest they themselves might receive such a visitation as had befallen their cattle earlier, and the priest who was now dead had previously said many things which now disturbed his soul. The priest bad told him that all the suffering which he inflicted on the peasants would come back upon him; but he had never believed it because he thought God would know how to differentiate between a knight and a peasant, or else surely He would not have created them so differently. But in spite of this he was now afraid that things might happen as the priest had spoken; he spoke harshly to his knights and expressed the conviction that severe punishment would now befall them on account of their irresponsible words. But the knights refused to acknowledge any wrong-doing, the one passed the responsibility to the other, and even if none of them said so, they all thought that this was really von Stoffeln’s affair, for if one looked at the matter straight, it was he who was answerable for everything. And after von Stoffeln, there was a young Polish knight whom they looked at askance, since he had in fact uttered the most irresponsible words about the castle and had mostly incited von Stoffeln to new building and to the presumptuous planting of the avenue of trees. This Pole, though still very young, was the wildest of them all, and if there was a rash deed to be done, he was in the lead; he was like a heathen and feared neither God nor the devil.

He noticed clearly enough what the others thought but dared not say to him, and he noticed their secret terror. He therefore taunted them and said, if they were afraid of a spider, what did they think they could do against dragons? Then he securely buckled on his armour and rode into the valley, swearing presumptuously that he would not return until his horse had trampled down the spider and his own fist had crushed it. Fierce hounds jumped around him, his falcon perched upon his clenched fist, his lance hung at his saddle, and the horse reared up exuberantly; those in the castle watched him ride off half-spitefully, half-fearfully, remembering the nightly watch on Bärhegen when the force of earthly weapons had proved so poor a defense against such an enemy. He rode at the edge of a pine forest towards the nearest farm, peering about and above with sharp eyes. When he saw the house and the people round about, he called his hounds, made free the falcon’s head and let his dagger rattle loose in its sheeth. When the falcon turned its dazzled eyes to the knight, awaiting his signal, it bounded back from his fist and shot into the air; the hounds that had gathered round howled out loudly and made off into the distance with their tails between their legs. In vain the knight rode and called out, he did not see his creatures again. Then he rode towards the people in order to ask for information; they stood still until he came close. Then they shrieked out with ghastly sounds and fled into the forest and ravine, for there on the knight’s helmet the spider sat black and in supernatural size, staring poisonously and malevolently across the countryside. The knight was carrying on his person the creature he was looking for, and did not realize it; in burning anger he called and rode after the people, cried out in ever greater rage, rode at an ever madder pace, yelled out ever more terribly until he and his horse plunged over a precipice down to the valley below. There his helmet and body were found, and the spider’s feet had burned through the helmet and into his brain, starting there the more fearful agony which lasted until his death.

It was after this experience that terror entered the castle in real earnest; the knights shut themselves in and still did not feel secure; they sought spiritual weapons, but for a long time they found no one who was capable of giving them guidance or who dared to venture there. At last a priest from a distant part allowed himself to be enticed there by fair words and the promise of money; he arrived and had the intention of setting out against the wicked enemy armed with holy water and holy prayers. He did not, however, strengthen himself in preparation for this with prayer and fasting, but dined with the knights early of a morning, not counting how many goblets of wine he drank and living well on venison and bear’s meat. In between he talked a lot about his spiritual feats of heroism, while the knights talked about their worldly deeds, and nobody counted the number of drinks they had and the spider was forgotten. Then all at once all liveliness was extinguished, hands holding tankard or fork went numb, mouths stayed gaping, and all eyes were fixed staring at one point; von Stoffeln alone drained his tankard and went on recounting some heroic deed performed in heathen parts. But the spider sat large on his head and stared round at the knights at table, though von Stoffeln did not know this. Then pain began to pour through his brain and blood, he cried out hideously and felt his head with his hand; but the spider was no longer there, with its terrible speed it had run over all the knights’ faces, and no one could prevent it; one after another shrieked out, consumed with fire, and the spider leered down from the priest’s bald head into the scene of horror; the priest wanted to put out the fire which flared up first in his head and then through marrow and bone.