Bremer County's Walpurgis Nacht Spectacle

Bremer: I had no idea what the invitation really meant when my old college boyfriend, Karl Harzmann, called and asked me if I wanted to go to a May Eve party at a farm near Horton. I thought he wanted a second chance. Karl always had a romantic streak in him; he belonged the Georg von Podebrad branch of the Society for Creative Anachronism, studied 12th century German history and troubadours and madrigals and had traced his family tree all the way to the House of Bourbon. As a journalism student, it drove me nuts how blithely he divorced himself from the present and plunged so completely into the past. In the end, we split up because I couldn't understand or accept anyone who so joyously involved themself in something so arcane and removed from the real news of the world.

     His call gave me pause and I thought about my own career. "Pot calling the kettle black" sprang forth to wound my conscience. So, I told him I would be happy to go with him, but that I had nothing proper to wear. He said he would take care of it. A few days later a long red velvet gown with a long gold chain belt was delivered by a friend of his passing through town. The dress was incredible, tight enough to be sexy yet comfortable and voluminous sleeves. There were slippers to match and as I stood before my mirror, I wondered if living in the past was so horrible after all.

     After dinner on April 30, I drove up to Zoar and met Karl and a few of his friends at his house. I left my car and hitched a ride with him and in about an hour pulled into the yard of Meyer's farm. What I saw bedazzled me.

     Spread out in the broad yard between the house and the old barn was a miniature midevil marketplace, complete with jugglers, brightly bedecked vendors' stalls, fluttering pennants and beggars. Even the smells captured the past: shocks of drying herbs, hot iron, burning wood, roasting meat, even animal dung---it all ran together and utterly mesmerized me. I felt I had just stepped into the 12th century.

     Karl's role in this festival was the Astrologer and Seer, the Comte D'Cedar. I giggled. He told me his own servants had arrived early to erect his tent and set up his various accoutrements for divination. When we found his encampment, it was more than a tent. It was a huge crimson pavilion, twelve feet high or more. A pennant fluttered another ten feet above that, a black dragon leaping proudly upon a crimson field.

     A mailed youth emerged from the pavilion, a sheathed long sword hanging from his belt.

     "I trust all is in readiness, Felix," Karl said, fixing him with a stare that momentarily alarmed me.

     "As per your instructions, exactly. Shall I present the staff?"

     "Staff?" I laughed in surprise.

     Karl smiled at me broadly, "No, Felix, they have worked hard enough, let them revel awhile. This is My Lady Adellé. Her father is a powerful and noble knight.

     "Actually, he's a lawyer in Des Moines," I smirked. Felix nodded affably.

     Karl went on, "We wish to change from these traveling clothes. We will take sweet mead, directly."

     "M'lord, m'lady," Felix bowed neatly at the waist to each of us, then ducked inside the pavilion. We followed him inside.

     The lavish interior made me gasp. Tall braziers illumed a floor covered with Persian carpets, a large wooden table and two gilded U-shaped chairs. On the table was a silver pitcher of wine and two goblets as well as a tray heaped with grapes, figs, and dates. A tall wooden paneled screen stood to one side while across from it a carved lectern held a thick book and lit by a thick taper.

     I took my bag of things behind the screen and changed into the dress. When I returned, Karl had already slipped into his cloak and breeches and was just placing a black velvet skullcap on his head. "Behold our Queen of the May," he whispered as his eyes rose to meet mine. He placed a garland of flowers upon my head.

     I took a cup of mead and gazed about the pavilion. Outside I could hear singing and flutes piping. The book on the lectern caught my eye. It was thick and old, the leather binding quite worn. I flipped through to the front but the title had been burnt from the cover and part of the title page was gone. In the lower right corner was a stamp mark: "Property of the University of Emmetsburg".

     "Careful!" Karl said rushing to my side. "My life's in that book!"

     I raised an eyebrow.

     "My master's thesis. This is a copy of a grimoire. I'm doing my thesis on court magicians and astrologers who ran afoul of the Church and were tried for witchcraft."

     We talked for another on an on for another hour or so. All the while, I drank more and more wine, and found myself falling under his spell and wanting to forget about the party all together. But at each advance and innuendo I made, Karl put me off. "I have obligations, yet. The party begins at midnight, you know." At last, I went off to find the toilet.

     The yard was blazing with a hundred torches and braziers. People sang and danced in the fire light. Cups and pitchers of mead wine slopped and sloshed everywhere. I was so worried about getting my dress wet that I stumbled trying to avoid a drunken reveler and fell against a man dressed as a monk.

     "Watch it, damn you!" he shouted as he spun around.

     I froze. It was the white haired man who had saved me and my friends the Kramers in Laneville that hellish night in January.

     "What are you doing here?" I demanded.

     "So you're to be the one after all," he poked me with his short, carved iron rod, his strange accent almost British, almost German. "Why am I not surprised."

     "What are you saying?" I demanded. "This is just a midevil reenactor's party."

     "Aye, that maybe what Harzmann told you. And by the look and smell of you, looks like you're more 'an ready to believe him. You stupid girl, don't you even know what night this is?"

     A shiver ran through my body. I remembered the grimoire on the lectern. I grabbed the old man's shoulder to steady myself. "Walpurgis Nacht!" " I gasped.

     "At midnight, Harzmann will regenerate. He will drink the heartsblood of the Queen of the May."

     "Karl wouldn't do something like this," I mumbled, trying to think.

     "Harzmann has been doing this for centuries, girl," he shook me roughly by the shoulder. "The ancient demonic orgies started on Mt. Brocken this night in the Harz Mountains of Germany! Don't you see? His name is Harz-Man!"

     I started sobbing, terrified, "Why here? Why now!"

     "The thousand year rites must be performed exactly---" Karl growled from behind me. I scarcely had time to scream when he grabbed me by my throat with inhuman strength and yanked me to him. The crowd parted before us, forming a path to sturdy wooden platform that rose above their heads.

     "Ic bebeode on Godes noman!" the white haired man shouted.

     "Not this time old fool!" Karl snarled, "The ancient bargain requires blood this night! You have no right!"

     A glint of steel caught my eye on somebody's belt. I snatched up the dagger and drove it into Karl's chest. He shrieked horribly. But instead of letting go of me, he pulled out the dagger. "Kill me, would you? But I don't keep my life in this pitiful shell!" He laughed evilly, blood bubbling out from his lips.

     Suddenly, he gagged. Blue-white lightning burst from his mouth and eyes. He let go of me and I fell to the ground and saw the white haired man's shot iron rod driven into Karl's mouth and out the back of his neck. Karl convulsed, his arms windmilling, lightning arched through the air into the crowd. I staggered away with no more urging, but turned when I heard the most horrific shriek to see the revelers shedding their skins and turn into scaly batwinged monstrosities.

     "See their true form!" the white haired man called out before me. He clutched a large oak leaf to his face, his eyes closed, the fingers of his free hand tumbling rapidly through a series of contortions. "Run for your life, girl. I've little strength this night!"

     I needed no further urging, but knew what I had to do. I ran back to the crimson pavilion. Felix stood before me as I whisked aside the door flap. A swift knee to his groin dropped him where he stood. I went straight to the lectern and picked up the grimoire then hurled into one of the braziers. Abruptly, it exploded, flames leapt eagerly into the pavilion cloth and spread rapidly. I turned to go, but Felix hit me in the face. I sagged to the floor, but managed to trip him as he headed toward the burning book. At that instant, several ropes snapped and down came yards of flaming canvas on top of us.

     The next thing I saw was the sun streaming in through the rear windshield of a car and a fingertip with white cream on the end headed straight for me.

     "Hold still, girl!" came the white haired man's voice. "You've got a bit of a burned face. Nay, ye've had worse at the beach, I imagine."

     I asked about Karl, he shook his head again. "They're all gone, girl. As soon as the tent caught fire. I dragged you out of there." He helped me sit up, gave me some coffee and drove me home.

     When I asked him about Felix, but he shook his head. "You were the only one under all that mess."

     For most of the drive back I was quiet, trying to sort out what had happened. When we got to my house, I thanked the white haired man and asked him his name. He shook his head, laughing as he drove away.