The Fire-Spraying Cherries
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| Geographic Coordinates: 48° 4' 11.86" N, 7° 57' 49.01" E |
Old Kaspar had left his hut early in the morning in order to pluck cherries from some of his trees. In earlier times, he had been a servant of the Lord of Schwarzenberg, and later asked for a small field, which he farmed and built a hut on. He was a serf, and married the dutiful daughter of another serf, and had received three beautiful children from her. The oldest one was a girl, and the two younger ones were boys. The latter had accompanied the father this morning, and climbed on the trees with him in order to pluck cherries. The sister only arrived with breakfast a few hours later, and was greeted by the brothers with much jubilation. They quickly climbed down and took her basket, while the father followed and sat around the pot with the black soup.
Everyone was merry and in good spirits, for it was a beautiful June morning, and all around them the birds hopped around and sang their songs. Down in the valley, the bells sounded from the city of Waldkirch, and hordes of people from the villages ventured towards the farmers’ market. Only the lord of Schwarzenberg looked down from his rock over the merry fields of grain in a dour mood. But the father enjoyed watching his healthy children, and then looked over his small but well-maintained estate, for the Heavens had blessed him from the moment on where he stepped out of the walls of the castle. Indeed, he secretly hoped to buy himself free from his master, and if he was unable to free himself, then at least his children should be free.
For this reason, the lord of the castle did not favor him once everything on his small estate began to prosper, for the knight was no friend of any happy and frugal man, and everyone fled from him. Even when he rode into Waldkirch, everyone avoided him, and even the old mayor trembled whenever he was summoned before the prideful, brusque lord who brooked no disagreement. Kaspar had not seen him for a long time, for he, too, avoided the knight whenever possible. And whenever the knight wanted to have something from his serfs, he usually sent a squire to fetch fruits, bacon, money, or whatever else he desired at the moment. Wisely, Kaspar never hesitated in such situations to satisfy the knight, but he was careful to conceal just what his wife had earned from the sales of the fruits in Waldkirch or Freiburg. This time, the cherries were especially abundant, and Kaspar already estimated what he might be able to hide away from the proceedings. This was the reason why he was in such a merry mood today. He called out to his daughter, who was walking back and forth with the spindle in her hand while he and her little brothers ate: “Listen, Gundchen, the birds sing so merrily! Come, sit down with us, and sing a song as well.” Gundchen, who had an extraordinarily lovely voice, did not have to be asked for long. She choose the merry Knitting Song, which she had learned from her mother, and which often came back to her memory these days:
“My young boy is a knitter,
He knits many a day;
He knits a hood,
Hood, hood,
But it’s not done yet.
The hood is made out of silk,
Out of velvet is the cord:
If you are a valiant girl,
Girl, girl,
I’ll tie your hair together.
Oh no, I don’t want to bind it,
I want to let it fly;
Until another year’s summer,
Summer, summer,
When I go to the dance.”
Gundchen had sung this verse and the father had listened in joy when there was suddenly a noise behind them. The dreaded knight stepped out of the shrubs, with arms crossed. His face did not just show the usual expression of wildness and cruelty, but also conveyed a mocking attitude which made the poor serf fear the worst. Startled, he leaped to his feet, and took off his cap in deference. Meanwhile, the children nestled against him in fear, and poor Gundchen dropped her spindle in fright. For a long time, the knight observed the intimidated group with sinister silence, and then he suddenly snarled at old Kaspar:
“From what I’ve heard, your pretty daughter desires to join the wedding dance next year. Very well, but until then she will have the honor of being my maidservant. Tomorrow morning you shall bring her to my castle!”
In vain, the poor father and his children beseeched the cruel lord. In vain, he offered his entire possessions if he would only be permitted to keep his daughter. The knight mockingly laughed that a servant was offering him what was his property anyway, and gloated at the wailing of the unfortunates. “Have I finally found the right tool in order to end the constant singing from your hut?”, he shouted with infernal joy. “For there is non-stop laughter and merriment in there. But so that you can witness that I will let even your voice count, listen carefully to what I am about to say. You know that I like to eat cherries, and this evening I have company. If you bring me this cherry tree, just like it stands there, up to my main chamber before midnight so that my guests and I can pluck its fruits, then not only will your daughter stay with you, but you and your kin shall be free. I’ve already noticed that you secretly plan to get away from me. But remember, the tree must stand in my chamber before the tower clock has stopped ringing twelve o’clock!” With these words, the knight went away without waiting for an answer, and his dull, jagged laughter could be heard from a distance for a long time.
Good Kaspar was close to despair. He knew the knight too well to hope for an alteration of his command, and immediately grasped the woefulness of his situation. It was impossible to flee, and it seemed equally impossible to fulfill the condition under which alone his daughter might be saved. For once she entered the castle, she would be lost. In vain Gundchen embraced him, and her tenderness only increased his pain, and when finally the mother arrived, the weeping and wailing intensified so that even stones might have been moved to pity. Then Gundchen fell to her knees, and prayed fervently that Heaven might not forsake her.
And behold, a lightning bolt suddenly twitched across the skies, the ground shook, a gust of wind rushed through the shrubs, and a voice was audible from the depths: “Woe, three times woe to him, for his hour has come.” Terrified, Kaspar with his wife and the boys fled from there. Only Gundchen followed them slowly and calmly, for she now was convinced that Heaven would not forsake her and not hand her over to her lord.
Evening approached, and with dusk the company of the lord of the castle arrived. They had returned from the hunt accompanied by much barking from the hounds and the sounds of the horns. Their hunts had never been as wild and cruel as today, and never had the fields of the serfs been trampled upon with this much abandon. Since the knights had now satisfied their craving for hunting, they then sat down in the castle for a feast. And now all the food and drink were laid out which cellar and kitchen were able to provide. Musicians — miserable riff-raff who gathered at fairs, enticed many young men to sin and seduced many a girl — played their tunes. There was much merriment. Not only did the lords drink overly much and played their games with harlots, but the squires followed their example as well. Thus, none among the company noticed that a thunderstorm was drifting ever closer from the Rhine. From hour to hour, the revelry in the castle became more brazen and more wild, and nothing was left out in attempts to entertain the guests. But the laughter became especially riotous when the lord of the castle told of the incident with the cherry tree, and described the fright and horror of poor Kaspar. A few commented that someone ought to check if the serf had prepared the wagon for this trip. A brazen harlot even looked out of the window, but the storm shut it with such a force that glass shards flew around the chamber. Now a few people became anxious, but no one was able to move from the spot. Everyone felt as if they were bound to the chamber as if by magic.
Out of the blue, the tower guard blew his horn with all the force he was able to muster, and a servant burst in with a disturbed countenance and the news: The patter of horse’s hooves was audible from the direction of the forest, and many lights were moving back and forth. The lord of the castle was about to rise up in rage of such a disturbance of his revelry when, suddenly, a gust of wind ripped open all the windows at once, and all the lights went out in an instant. While there was now the darkest of nights within the chamber, it was all the much brighter outside of the castle and down in the valley. Bolts of lightning crossed in all directions, thunder rolled as if Judgment Day had arrived, and a storm stronger than anyone had ever experienced seemed intent on ripping out the entire forest at its roots. But the most terrifying element for the revelers was what they were seeing from a distance on the field of the poor Kaspar. There, four raven-black horses were stomping impatiently before a large wagon, and a hundred gigantic arms breaking out of the ground seemed to be busy with lifting a tree on that wagon. But the fruits of that tree were fiery like carbuncles, and without number, though otherwise they appeared like cherries. Finally, the many arms succeeded in lifting the tree and all of its roots on the wagon. Now, a carter dressed like poor Kaspar swung himself up, and then the wagon proceeded up the mountain at a speedy gallop.
The lord of the castle attempted to force himself to laugh in vain, and only succeeded in displaying a loathsome grimace and muttering unintelligibly. But the wagon did not seem to touch the ground, and instead roamed above the treetops and left a trail of fire behind. In this manner, it flew ever closer to the castle, while the thunder and lightning became worse and worse. The well-barred gate offered no resistance. Its wings flew apart like sheets of paper, and the walls crumbled into the moat like a heap of sand. In this manner, the wagon finally roared through the wide-open wall and into the chamber, into the center of the guests, who were paralyzed with dread. Finally, the tree stood there, covered with fruits and lights, but nobody wanted to partake of this bounty. But the carter exclaimed with a thundering voice: “Why do you hesitate? Help yourself!”, and gigantic arms once again emerged from the walls of the chamber and forced them to comply.
But as soon as one of these sparkling cherries was led to the mouth, it transformed into an unquenchable flame that burned down into the heart and stomach. Finally, the carter pulled the lord of the castle on the wagon next to him, the fire spread to cover the entire castle, the ground opened up, and horses, wagon, the lord and his guests sank together into a black, bottomless depth. At least, this is what the Sunday Children say; other people had only seen the lightning bolts that struck the castle like a sheath of flame. But it is known around the world that Sunday Children always see more in such matters than ordinary children of men.
When the inhabitants of the valley had recovered from the terrors of the night the next morning and looked in the direction of the castle, they saw neither towers nor battlements, but only black blocks of stone, from which bluish flames smelling of sulfur emerged from time to time. But on the field of old Kaspar where the beautiful cherry tree used to stand, they discovered a deep pit, and next to it traces of wheels and horses’ hooves. They thus sprinkled the spot with blessed water, and put a stone cross on it. Old Kaspar and his family were now free of their serfdom, and Gundchen stayed home until a stout-hearted neighbor led her to his own home as his wife. To this day, there are still remains of the ancient cross and the castle, but people only dare to go nearby during the day. For when someone walks on the road over the heights to Waldkirch in the evening or even at night — particularly during the high holidays — they might see the gigantic tree with the fiery cherries amidst the walls of the castle.
Source: Schönhuth - Die Burgen, Kläster, Kirchen und Kapellen Badens und der Pfalz, p. 422ff