Finally a distant cleric was lured to Bärhegen with money and promises; when he arrived, he declared that , armed with holy water and holy words, he was eager to set out to battle this evil adversary. But instead of readying himself for this battle with fasting and prayers, he breakfasted along with the knights and lost count of the cups he drained while feasting on venison and bear. Meanwhile he spoke at length of his heroic deeds of the spirit, and the knights spoke of their worldly ones, and the cups they drained went uncounted, and the spider was forgotten. Then in an instant all life was blotted out, hands froze where they were, clutching cup or fork, mouths hung open, and all eyes were riveted on a single point. Only von Stoffeln drained his cup, finishing his story of a heroic deed performed in the land of the heathen. But on his head sat the spider, swollen up huge and glowering at the knights seated there, but the knight did not feel it. But then the fire began to stream through his brain and blood, he gave a dreadful cry and grasped at his head, but the spider was no longer there, with terrible speed it had raced across the faces of all the knights, no one could stop it; one after the other they cried out, seared by these flames, and then the spider sat atop the cleric's tonsure, gazing down at the gruesome scene. The cleric wanted to use the cup his hand was still grasping to quench the fire that was blazing from his head down into marrow and bone, but to no avail: The spider stayed where it was, glowering from its throne as it surveyed the carnage until the last knight had uttered his last cry and drawn his last breath.
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