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Updated: June 13, 2025
Active Wurzburg, active Bamberg, without much connection, snatched up a good deal: Count of Orlamunde, married to the eldest Sister of the slain Duke, got Plassenburg and most of the Voigtland: a Tyrolese magnate, whose Wife was an Aunt of the Duke's, laid hold of the Tyrol, and transmitted it to daughters and their spouses, the finish of which line we shall see by and by: in short, there was much property in a disposable condition.
Cities were often made desolate in a few days by the plague the people running to the hills, a weird devil's silence all about the gates. These might well betoken the presence of a foe to which the army of Plassenburg would seem as a friend. As we rode under the Arch of the White Gate of Thorn we were summarily halted to be examined.
So I pulled out a scrap of parchment and wrote a hasty message to the Prince, asking him, for the love of God and us, to set every soldier in Plassenburg on the march for Thorn, and to come on ahead himself with such a flying column as he could gather. No more I added, because I knew that my good master would need no more.
So there was later news from the city of Thorn within the Palace of Plassenburg than we of the Prince's council of three possessed. Should I tell our Karl of this encounter? I thought it might be safer not. Because the Prince was the last man to attempt to obtain aught from his wife by compulsion, and any question, direct or indirect, might only put her upon her guard.
So here in the ancient Red Tower, I thought, we might at least be safe enough till my good fellows of Plassenburg, with the Prince at their head, should swarm hammering at the gates of Thorn. To us, sitting thus hand in hand, there entered the Bishop Peter. "Hail!" he said, blandly, and in his grandest manner, as we knelt for his benediction; "hail, bride and bridegroom!
But our way lay homeward, so that, though I was in no way able to guide nor yet control my charger, nevertheless presently the Prince and I were clattering through the town of Plassenburg like two fiends riding headlong to the pit.
The silver sweetened his face like a charm. He seized me by the hand. "My name," he cried, "is Peter of the Pigs. I am not stable-master, but feed the grouting piglings. And yet in a way I am indeed stable-master. For the Bishop hath had no horses since the Duke took them away to mount his cavalry for the raids into Plassenburg.
"This lady, then, followed the Hohenzollern from the Plassenburg to Baireuth and Berlin?" asked Napoleon. "For she appears sometimes at Berlin, does she not?" "At Berlin, and all places where members of the house of Hohenzollern, the descendants of the Burgraves of Nuremberg, are about to die." "Oh, the dear lady, then, appears only to the family of the Hohenzollern," exclaimed Napoleon, smiling.
But my place is with the men of Plassenburg and with Karl, my noble Prince." And I took her by the hand to lead her out. "Not that way!" she cried, shrinking back. For the bodies of the two slain men lay there. And the stairs ran red from step to step in red drips and lappering pools.
"Proceed," he said. "On the following morning there was great wailing at the Plassenburg, for the two sweet little children lay dead in their bed; not a vestige of violence was to be seen, and the physician of the countess decided that a stroke of apoplexy had killed them.
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