The Spectre in Fjelkinge,
translated by Frederick H. Martens
During the first half of the eighteenth century,
several large estates in Schonen were the
property of the family of Barnekow, or rather, of its
most distinguished representative at that time,
Margaret Barnekow, daughter of the famous captain
and governor-general Count Rutger of Aschenberg,
and the wife of Colonel Kjell Kristofer
Barnekow. A widow at twenty-nine, she herself
took over the management of her large properties,
and gave therein evidence of invincible courage, an
inexhaustible capacity for work, and a tireless
solicitude for all her many dependents and servitors.
While traveling about her estates, Madame
Margaret one evening came to the tavern in Fjelkinge,
and was quartered for the night in a room
that had the name of being haunted. Some years
before a traveler had lain in the same room and
presumably had been murdered: at any rate the
man himself and all his belongings had disappeared
without leaving a trace, and the mystery had never
been explained. Since that time the room had been
haunted, and those who knew about it preferred to
travel a post-station further in the dark, rather than
pass the night in the room in question. But Margaret
Barnekow did not do so. She had already
shown greater courage in greater contingencies,
and chose this particular room to sleep in without
any fear.
She let the lamp burn and fell asleep, after she
had said her evening prayer. On the stroke of
twelve she awoke, just as some planks were raised
in the floor; and up rose a bleeding phantom whose
head, split wide open, hung down on his shoulder.
"Noble lady," whispered the specter, "prepare
a grave in consecrated earth for a murdered man,
and deliver his murderer to the judgment which is
his due!"
God-fearing and unafraid, Madame Margaret
beckoned the phantom nearer, and he told her he had
already addressed the same prayer to various other
people; but that none had had the courage to grant
it. Then Madame Margaret drew a gold ring from
her finger, laid it on the gaping wound, and tied up
the head of the murdered man with her kerchief.
With a glance of unspeakable gratitude he told her
the murderer's name, and disappeared beneath the
floor without a sound.
The following morning Madame Margaret sent for
the sheriff of the district to come to the tavern with
some of his people, informed him of what had happened
to her during the night, and ordered those
present to tear up the floor. And there they found,
buried in the earth, the remains of a body and, in a
wound in its head, the Countess's ring, and tied about
its head, her kerchief. One of the bystanders grew
pale at the sight, and fell senseless to the ground.
When he came to his senses, he confessed that he had
murdered the traveler and robbed him of his belongings.
He was condemned to death for his crime, and
the body of the murdered man was buried in the village
church-yard.
The ring, of peculiar shape, and its setting bearing
a large gray stone, is still preserved in the Barnekow
family, and magic virtues in cases of sickness, fire
and other misfortunes are ascribed to it. And when
one of the Barnekows dies, it is said that a red spot,
like a drop of blood, appears on the stone.
NOTE
"The Spectre in Fjelkinge" (Hofberg, p. 21) is founded on the
ancient belief that innocent blood which has been shed calls for
atonement, and the one who has been unjustly murdered cannot rest
until the deed has been brought to light.