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The Suegeow's Stoeies. 
 
 Bt z. topelius.. 
 
THE 
 
 SURGEOFS STOEIES. 
 
 Z. TOPELIUS, 
 
 o 
 
 Professob op Histokt, Untteksity of Abo, FrwiiAWD. 
 
 A SBKIBS OP 
 
 Swedish Historical- Romances, 
 
 m SIX CYCLES. 
 (Each Ctole in oxe Volitme. Peice $1.25.) 
 
 First Cycle — Times of Gustap Adolf. 
 Second Cycle — Times of Queen Christina. 
 Third Cycle — Times of Charles XII. 
 Fourth Cycle — Times of Frederick Adolf. 
 Fifth Cycle — Times op Princess op Wasa. 
 Sixth Cycle — Times op Gustaf III. 
 

 THE SUEGEON'S STORIES. 
 
 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 Z. TOPELIUS. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL SWEDISH. 
 
 CHICAGO: 
 
 JANSEN, McCLURG, & COMPANY. 
 1883. 
 
COPYRIGHT, 
 
 BY JANSEN, MoCLUEG & CO., 
 
 A. D., 1882. 
 
 
 R. R. Donnelley & Sons, Printers, Chicaga 
 
 ( IJ 
 
INTRODUCTION : 
 
 TEBATING OF THE SURGEON AND HIS LIFE. 
 
 HE was born in one of the smaller towns of 
 East Bothnia, on the 15th of August, 1769 — 
 the same day as Napoleon. I remember the day 
 also from the fact that the Surgeon was accustomed 
 to celebrate it with a little social party, to which he 
 always invited two or three of his old cousins (he 
 called all his old aunts " cousins "), and two or 
 three of his brothers (he called everyone brother 
 who called him uncle). These people collected in 
 his garret, and were treated with cakes and coifee. 
 The apartment was necessarily rather dark, being 
 lighted from the outside only through two dormer 
 windows ; but it was a large one, which was 
 fortunate, as, besides the two or three cousins and 
 the two or three brothers, the parties were at- 
 tended by a dozen children — boisterous boys and 
 chattering girls, who made a great deal of noise 
 and tumbled everything about in disorder. For 
 the Surgeon had an indescribable fondness for 
 children, and allowed us to do as we liked, 
 although our noise often deafened the older and 
 more sedate guests. But we must return to the 
 Surgeon's birthday — which is the first point in 
 his claim to our interest; and he had more such 
 points than have most people. 
 
 The fact that the Surgeon was born on the 
 same day as Napoleon not only constituted the 
 
 (5) 
 
THE SURGEON'S STORIES. 
 
 pride of his life but was the cause of several of 
 his most important adventures, for he never ceased 
 to see in this coincidence a very remarkable omen. 
 Even if he had never become a great man, as 
 perhaps in his youth he had dreamed he might, 
 yet this omen urged him forvyard, to seek honor 
 and fortune in various fields of life. His pride, 
 like his ambition, was of that mild and genial 
 kind which smiles silently at itself, and is un- 
 willing to harm even a caterpillar. It was one of 
 those innocent illusions which, born of the 
 merest chance, are kept up through life as fnatters 
 of the greatest weight and significance ; which 
 are never abandoned, though reality proves them 
 a thousand times to be a dream. Anyone who 
 understands human nature could easily have told 
 the Surgeon that, with an ambition such as his, he 
 would never be able to play a brilliant rdle, even 
 were he a hundred times born on the same day as 
 Napoleon. For altogether different is that ambition 
 which, through a thousand hindrances, forces its 
 way to the heights of human greatness; which, 
 with the inexhaustible resources of genius, cour- 
 age and energy, combines entire indifference to the 
 means by which it seeks its end. When does the 
 proud conqueror count the victims who, for his 
 honor, bleed on the battle-field; all the tears, all 
 the ruins of human happiness, over which he 
 pushes his way toward that phantom of a great- 
 ness which gleams through the centuries ? 
 
 Had the Surgeon, on his famous birthday, been 
 brought into the world by Madame Lietitia Bona- 
 parte, in Ajaccio, he might perhaps have become 
 something else than a surgeon, but scarcely any- 
 thing greater. It is true that Napoleon's cele- 
 brated cook once declared, in the consciousness of 
 
INTROD UCTION: 
 
 his greatness, that " one may become a cook, but 
 one is born a turnspit." Yet he, a genius, forgot 
 the predestination of genius; born a turnspit, one 
 seldom becomes anything else in reality, even 
 though he have gold on his collar or diplomas in 
 his pocket. The Surgeon was not born to be a 
 Napoleon; not because he had the burgher name, 
 Andreas Biick (he had studied Latin, and always 
 signed himself Andreas, iiistead of the common 
 form of Anders), nor because his father was a sim- 
 ple sergeant, wiio lost an arm in the Pomeranian 
 War; but for the reason that one with such an 
 inexhaustible fund of good humor and irresolution, 
 even when possessing a more brilliant intellect 
 than had fallen to the Surgeon's lot, may possibly^ 
 become a bold partisan, but never a great general, 
 in the battle of life. 
 
 The Surgeon was, in his childhood, as he him- 
 self used to say, a great rogue; but as he showed 
 a quick understanding, he was sent by his uncle, 
 a wealthy merchant, to a school in Wasa. At the 
 age of eighteen, he had advanced so far that, with 
 a firkin of butter in the wagon and seventeen 
 dollars in his pocket, he went to Abo, to pass his 
 student's examination. He got through it without 
 difficulty; and our newly-made student was now, 
 according to the wish of his uncle and benefactor, 
 going to strive with all his might for the gown and 
 surplice. With secret sighs, he sat down to his 
 Hebrew Codex; his thoughts flew all over the 
 world, and his eyes strayed too frequently from 
 Sereschit bara elohim to the parades in the square, 
 where the fine-looking troops were reviewed be- 
 fore they left for the war. "Oh!" thought the 
 future ecclesiastic, " if I were only a soldier, 
 standing there so straight in the ranks, ready to 
 
THE SURGEON'S STORIES. 
 
 fight, like ray father, for king and country! " But 
 there was one who put a decided stop to the mat- 
 ter: his mother had never been able to forget that 
 his father lost his arm in the war, and she had 
 exacted a sacred promise from her son that he 
 would never become a soldier. 
 
 Young Back was a good son, so he returned 
 from the parades to his Codex; but he had not 
 gone more than half through Genesis before a 
 bombshell scattered all his plans and thoughts. 
 This bombshell was an advertisement in the Abo 
 newspaper, signed " Erik Gabriel Hartman," in 
 behalf of the Medical Faculty, stating that stu- 
 dents who wished to take service as surgeons in 
 the hospitals and regiments during the war should 
 present themselves without delay for private med- 
 ical instruction; after which— quite soon, of course, 
 for the war was in full progress — they could count 
 upon being ordered out, with five oi' six dollars 
 per month to begin with. Now our man was no 
 longer to be held back: he wrote home that, as a 
 surgeon, one is accustomed to take off other peo- 
 ple's limbs, without losing any himself ; and after 
 much solicitation, he received the desired consent. 
 In an instant the Codex stood upside down on the 
 shelf. Back did not study — he swallowed — the art 
 of surgery, and in a few months was as good a sur- 
 geon as many others: for in those times they were 
 not so particular. Who does not remember how 
 Franzen sings, in his excellent " Once and Now: " 
 
 "Once, doctors cut off fingers, toes, 
 
 Whose uselessness was sure ; 
 
 Now, they quickly take off those 
 
 They know not how to cure." 
 
 It is very possible that the poet then thought of 
 
INTRODVCTION. 9 
 
 Back. But our Surgeon did not allow himseli' to 
 be disturbed. 
 
 He was in the campaigns of 1788 and 1789 on 
 land, and of 1790 at sea; was in many a hard strug- 
 gle, drank boldly (according to his own account), 
 and cut off arms and legs in the most jubilant 
 manner. At that time he knew nothing about 
 Napoleon, nor the coincidence of his birth, and 
 consequently did not yet consider himself des- 
 tined for anything great. But he often related 
 afterwards how, on the eventful 3d of July, in 
 Wiborg Bay, with Stedingk on board the " Styr- 
 bj6rn " at the head of the flotilla, he passed the 
 enemy's batteries at Krosserort's Point, and had 
 the splinter of a spar hit him in the right cheek, 
 giving him a scar for the rest of his life. The 
 same ball which caused the accident tore along 
 the ship with great havoc, and whizzed by the 
 commander's ear, making him completely deaf for 
 a moment. Back was instantly on hand with his 
 lancet and cordials, and in three minutes Stedingk 
 had his hearing again. It was just at the time 
 when the danger was greatest and the shower of 
 balls hottest. Crash! The vessel was aground. 
 " Boys, 'we are all lost! " shrieked a voice. " Oh, 
 no! " answered another — Henrik Fagel, from Ah- 
 lais Village, in Ulfsby; " order all the men to the 
 prow; it is the stern that has stuck." "All men 
 to the prow! " commanded Stedingk. " Styr- 
 bjOrn " was again afloat, and the whole Swedish 
 fleet followed in its wake. Back used to say: 
 " What the deuce would have become of the fleet 
 if Stedingk had remained deaf ? " and everybody 
 understood the old man's meaning: he had saved 
 the whole Swedish fleet, of course. But if one 
 happened to smile at his innocent boast, then he 
 
10 THE SURGEON'S STORIES. 
 
 laughed too, and added, good-naturedly: " Yes, yes; 
 you see, brother, I was born on the 15th of August; 
 that is the -whole secret; it is no merit of mine." 
 
 When the war was over, Back began to feel 
 uneasy at the hospitals, and as he (according to his 
 own assertion) was in especial favor with Stedingk, 
 he said good-by to the fleet and went with his 
 patron to Stockholm — as family physician, I think 
 he once said; but others assert that ho was rather 
 engaged as a scribe. Quick, energetic, and trust- 
 worthy, he understood many a side hint and re- 
 ceived confidences, which he (according to his own 
 account) honored perfectly. He stood aLthat time 
 in extensive relation with valets, chambermaids, 
 secretaries, and such people, who, in that time of 
 political intrigue in high places, played an import- 
 ant part; nay, often were they apparently insignif- 
 icant but in reality effective agencies in many an 
 entangled cabal which spun its web in darkness 
 until it had ensnared the highest personages in the 
 kingdom and brought them to ruin. I have never 
 been able to find out how much of a role the Sur- 
 geon really played in these celebrated cabals; it is 
 possible that it was not so considerable as he some- 
 times made it appear. But that it was ever a low 
 and perfidious one, I take it upon myself to deny. 
 Back was too honest a fellow at heart for anything 
 of that kind. I am more inclined to believe that 
 he did others' errands without fully realizing their 
 political import until he saw the results in open 
 daylight. But one thing is certain: that in those 
 times he was initiated into much gossip about 
 prominent personages, both of his own and of past 
 times, and picked up many curious items which 
 were little known but yet were important and sig- 
 nificant. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 11 
 
 The Surgeon was a " Gustavian," in the same 
 sense as a great part of the middle classes of 
 Stockholm at that time. Dazzled by the brilliancy 
 of the court, which was also reflected on the hum- 
 bler circles in its vicinity, transported by the 
 condescension with which Gustaf III. knew so 
 Well how to gain the favor of the masses when he 
 heeded it, the Surgeon became unconditionally 
 devoted to his king. What did he care for the 
 political dissatisfaction which had for a long time 
 been lurkina: around the throne, and raising: its 
 head more and more threateningly? He was 
 young; he needed no reason for his attachment. 
 " Such a magnificent king!" was his only thought. 
 He was at that time a thorough royalist; and if it 
 happened that he executed others' commissions in 
 the service of intrigue, it was because he, poor 
 fellow, supposed he was doing the king a benefit. 
 
 One day in the beginning of March, 1793, tiie 
 Surgeon, at that time a good-looking youth (to use 
 his own words), had, through a chambermaid at 
 Countess Lantingshausen's — who, in her turn (the 
 chambermaid's of course), stood on a confidential 
 footing with Count Klas Horn's favorite lackey — 
 obtained a vague inkling of a murderous conspir- 
 acy against the king's life. The Surgeon resolved 
 to play Providence in Sweden's fate, and reveal to 
 the king all that he knew* and perhaps a little 
 more. He sought an audience with his majesty, 
 under the pretext of having a petition; but was 
 flatly refused by tho chamberlain on duty, De 
 Besche. He renov\rcd his request tlie second time, 
 but with the result that he was turned out of doors. 
 The third time, ho placed himself in the road before 
 the king's carriage, holding his written statement 
 high in the air. "What does that fellow want?" 
 
12 THE SURGEON'S STORIES. 
 
 asked Gustaf III. of his attending chamberlain, as 
 he alighted; and again, as ill-luck would have it, 
 the chamberlain was De Besche. 
 
 " It is a discharged Surgeon," answered the 
 courtier, ironically. "He humbly requests that 
 your majesty may most graciously begin another 
 war, to procure him something to do." 
 
 The king smiled, and the Surgeon remained 
 standing in confusion at the gate. 
 
 Some days later, the king was shot. "It was 
 not my fault," the Surgeon used to say, when he 
 spoke of his valor on that occasion. "Had not 
 that infernal De Besche been there . . But I 
 won't say anything more." 
 
 Everyone understood what he meant. He had 
 saved the Swedish fleet at Wiborg; he would also 
 have saved the life of Gustaf III. had there not 
 been an "if" in the way in the shape of a ma- 
 licious chamberlain. There was already a little 
 of the loth of August in him; at least so he 
 thought himself. 
 
 The Regency and Reuterholm were by no means 
 to the Surgeon's" taste. He had withdrawn from 
 Stedingk's service, and began to practice his pro- 
 fession in Stockholm. More than ever was he 
 drawn into the scandal of the day, himself a wan- 
 dering chronicle from patient to patient. As such, 
 he was used by the party of the old court to set 
 certain reports in circulation. When there was 
 anything wrong, he smelt it out before anyone else. 
 He warned (so he insisted) the leaders of the 
 movement of 1794; but none except the Alci- 
 biades of the North believed him; and thus he 
 had the satisfaction of having saved Arrafelt, as he 
 saved the Swedish fleet and Gustaf III. It was 
 he who, with the state surgeon, FrQberg, repre- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 13 
 
 sented the medical art at Lady RudenschSld's 
 execution. This cruel execution, where genius 
 and beauty were trampled in the dust, where the 
 people all around shed tears, and only the base 
 partisan triumphed, stirred the Surgeon's honest 
 heart. His tongue, unaccustomed to keep still, 
 ■was sharpened by indignation more than was ad- 
 visable; and he asked aloud, so that all heard it, 
 why the lady was not allowed to sit doxon^ when 
 his excellence, Baron Reuterholm's uncle, sat on 
 the scaffold? These words soon came to Reuter- 
 holm's ears; and, if we may believe the Surgeon, 
 a scarcely milder fate than that of the unfortunate 
 lady awaited him. The Surgeon, who had an ear 
 in every lane, and an eye in every chamber-win- 
 dow, felt something unpleasant in the air, and de- 
 cided to escape in time from the threatening storm. 
 With his lancet in his pocket and his bandages un- 
 der his arm, he fled on board a Pomeranian yacht, 
 and in a few days was in Stralsund. 
 
 I no longer intend to be discursive about the Sur- 
 geon's experiences. After a little while he went 
 afoot, as a wandering quack, on the road to Paris, 
 where the Directory had just come into power. 
 One army was raised after another. Every student 
 took to the sword or the lancet. The Surgeon ar- 
 rived at a lucky moment, received a little appoint- 
 ment in the Italian army, and stood by Napoleon's 
 side when his sun of fortune rose beyond the Alps. 
 Now first apprised of the significance of his birth- 
 day, the Surgeon felt an insatiable ambition awaken 
 in his breast. One fine night he abandoned his hos- 
 pital in Nizza, and hurried to Mantua. He wished 
 to call on General Bonaparte in person ; he wished 
 to distinguish himself. In short, he wished to make 
 of the 15th of August a ladder to immortality. I 
 
14 THE SURGEON'S STORIES. 
 
 cannot comprehend how it was; but, in fact, he as- 
 serted that he obtained an audience with Bonaparte, 
 and presented to hiin his request for a position as 
 army physician. " But," sighed the Sui-geon, when- 
 ever he described this remarkable day of his life, 
 "Bonaparte was very busy; he did not understand 
 me, and asked one of his adjutants what I wanted. 
 'Citizen General,' answered the adjutant, 'it is a 
 surgeon, who requests the honor of sawing off 
 your leg at the first opportunity.' Just then," 
 added the Surgeon, " the cannon began to thun- 
 der, the Austrians advanced, and General Bona- 
 parte told me to go to the devil! " 
 
 The Surgeon, who had saved so many great 
 personages, was thus deprived of the opportunity 
 of saving Napoleon. He got camp-fever instead, 
 and lay sick half a year in Brescia. From there he 
 followed the French army to Austria, ran away to 
 Switzerland, and tarried for a time in Ziirich. 
 There he took charge of a drug-store, fell in love 
 with a little red-cheeked Swiss girl, and was on 
 the point of marrying her, when Prince Kosakoff, 
 then Massena, and finally SuvarofF, overran the 
 peaceful city with their hordes. In this confusion, 
 the Stii;geon's betrothed fled, and never came 
 back. " 
 
 He sat one day, sorrowfully looking out of the 
 window of his shop, when two Cossacks approached, 
 dismounted, seized him, in spite of his resistance, 
 and hurried off at full speed. The Surgeon thought 
 his last moment had come; he had not the slightest 
 idea what this meant. But the Cossacks brought 
 him, unharmed, to a simple hut. There sat some 
 officers around a punch-bowl, and among them a 
 stern man in large boots. 
 
 " Comrade," said the man, in a short and com- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 15 
 
 nianding tone, "out with your forceps; I have 
 tooth- ache." 
 
 There was no help for it; the Surgeon had to 
 take out his forceps. He ventured to ask what 
 tooth it was that ached. 
 
 "You argue?" said the man, impatiently. 
 "No, I don't argue," answered the Surgeon, and 
 pulled out the first tooth he got hold of. 
 
 "Good, my boy! March! " and the Surgeon was 
 dismissed with ten ducats for his trouble. The list 
 of his merits acquired an important addition; he 
 had pulled out a tooth for — the hero SuvarofF. 
 
 Encouraged by this, the Surgeon resolved to 
 seek his fortune in Russia. He went to St. Peters- 
 burg, and called upon the Swedish minister. Gen- 
 eral Stedingk, brother of his patron, the admiral. 
 Here he obtained a situation as physician in a 
 military hospital, where he got along nicely, and 
 collected a little fortune. 
 
 Thus passed four or five years, when the intel- 
 ligence came that Napoleon had mounted the 
 Imperial throne. The Surgeon's old ambition now 
 revived again; he resigned lys place, and returned 
 in 1804 to his fatherland. With his merits, he 
 counted on a brilliant promotion; but' no: the 
 Medical Faculty had already become pretentious, 
 and wished to see his diploma. In his vexation he 
 renounced the medical profession, and, with the aid 
 of his testimonials from Zurich, purchased a phar- 
 macy in Stockholm. 
 
 The Surgeon was now thirty-five years of age. 
 He looked back upon the life he had hitherto led, 
 and found it rather boyish. He said to himself: 
 "It is not sufficient to hav^e saved the Swedish 
 fleet, Gustaf HI., and Armfelt; to have had an 
 audience with Bonaparte, and pulled a tooth for 
 
le THE SURGEON'S STORIES. 
 
 Suvaroff. One must also have an aim in life." 
 And he began to realize that he had a fatherland. 
 
 The war of 1808 broke out. The Surgeon sold 
 out his drug-store, came again in conflict with the 
 Medical Faculty, and was not able to mount 
 higher than to the position of an assistant physi- 
 cian in one of the Finnish regiments. It was just 
 as well; he no longer fought for glory and the loth 
 of August. In the army were lieutenants with 
 gray mustaches; why could not the Surgeon, with 
 twenty years' experience, be an assistant physi- 
 cian? He took part in the campaigns of 1808 and 
 1809; his place in all engagements was close by 
 the battle-field, in some hut by the roadside. 
 There he fought, in his way, manfully and honest- 
 ly, with misery, disease, and death; cut off arms 
 and legs, dressed wounds, applied plasters, com- 
 forting the wounded soldiers, with whom he 
 shared his flask, his bread, his purse, and, what 
 was more, his continual good-humor, with a thou- 
 sand diverting anecdotes of his wanderings in 
 foreign lands. By half the array he was known as 
 the tupakka tohtori ^ (tobacco doctor) — probably 
 because, through his business relations in Stock- 
 holm, he was constantly provided with the " ex- 
 cellent leaf," and was always ready to share 
 with the soldier his pipe and quid. One can be 
 Christian-like even in tobacco! The Surgeon was 
 not so stuck-up that he, like Konow's corporal, 
 went 
 
 " With two quids from sheer pride." 
 
 On the contrary, he rather went without any, when 
 the need was great and a wounded comrade had 
 got the last bit of the roll in the pocket of his 
 yellow nankeen vest. Therefore the soldiers 
 
introduction: - 17 
 
 loved the " tobacco doctor," and Fieaiidt swore 
 that he would promote him — for, next to bullets 
 and gunpowder, there was nothing in the wide 
 world so deserving of a man's respect as an 
 honest quid and a package of smoking-tobacco. 
 
 The Surgeon's adventures during the war 
 might easily fill a whole Christmas calendar; but 
 1 will leave them for the present, and only men- 
 tion, in passing, that in 1808 he celebrated his 
 birthday on the seventeenth of August, at Alavo. 
 After the war, ho resigned — without a pension, of 
 course. When peace was concluded, in 1809, and 
 so many Finns moved over to Sweden, the Sur- 
 geon considered it more honorable to share all 
 vicissitudes with his fatherland, and therefore 
 remained. His old roving disposition did not 
 allow him to bind himself to any fixed place in the 
 community; so he travelled Ground the country for 
 a few years with his little medicine-chest, pre- 
 scribing for and curing all diseases with lancet, 
 cupping-horns, essentia dulcis^ and mixtura sim- 
 plex. From parish to parish and village to village, 
 he drove around with his old horse and his medicine- 
 chest, welcome everywhere, and just as much 
 sought for as any Doctor Bolliger of modern 
 •times. The Surgeon was free as a bird on the 
 wing. Voluble and amusing, he spiced his best 
 rhuhard with comical stories, sure to find in every 
 farm-house a hospitable board and a talkative 
 hostess. It was a happy season. I am perfectly 
 convinced that the Surgeon then accomplished 
 much good; but this, he never spoke of. 
 
 Still, the Surgeon did not long travel around 
 
 the country as a practitioner among the peasantry. 
 
 Since 1788 the medical art at the universities had 
 
 advanced with seven-league boots. The medical 
 
 A 1 
 
18 THE SURGEON'S STORIES. 
 
 authorities began to take severe measures with 
 quacks of all sorts, who still, in the beginning of 
 this century, overran the country; often enough, 
 it is true, to the detriment and shame of the med- 
 ical profession, but as often to the benefit of suf- 
 fering humanity: for regular physicians were 
 extremely few, and apothecaries, likewise, far 
 apart. Now, as the Surgeon had before been in 
 open conflict with the Medical Faculty in Upsala 
 and Abo, it was only necessary for a zealous 
 colleague to report his medical itineracies in the 
 country. The Surgeon was called to Abo, to 
 undergo colloquium familiare, but did not choose 
 to obey, which was really impolitic; for with his 
 merits from the war, he would have been self- 
 indorsed for the position of city physician. But 
 he was stubborn, and too much in love with his 
 independence, so he did not go to Abo; and the 
 result was that, under penalty of a heavy fine, he 
 was forbidden to continue his practice. 
 
 The Surgeon now for the third time gave up 
 medicine, settled down in his native place, and 
 took to fishing. It was an interesting way of 
 gaining a livelihood, but, alas, a very meagre sup- 
 port for a man who wished to have his daily cup 
 of coffee and pipe of tobacco. In his days of 
 prosperity, he might have accumulated a fine for- 
 tune; but he had been too liberal and too migra- 
 tory. He now ov?ned in this world scarcely more 
 than his old brown cloak, his yellow nankeen vest, 
 his cheerful disposition, and some hundred fish- 
 hooks. He therefore let himself be persuaded to 
 seek a situation as vaccinator, which he obtained 
 through the influence of some former compatriots. 
 The old marauder in the field of medical art was 
 ■very well contented with his slight occupation, 
 
INTRODUCTION. 19 
 
 which still allowed him twice a year to roam 
 arouTid the country, chat with the old women, and 
 live for the day according to his old habit. Nor 
 was there anyone who knew better than he how to 
 quiet the little children. When his needle punc- 
 tured the fine, soft flesh of their arms, it went like 
 play under kindly words; and before the little 
 ones even noticed it, the pain was over. This 
 gained for the Surgeon still more the good-will of 
 all the mothers. They even forgave him his ugly 
 habit of chewing tobacco: it was too late to cure 
 it now. 
 
 And then the snow of old age stole mildly and 
 imperceptibly over the Surgeon's head. He was 
 one of the few fortunate ones who bad gone 
 through the storms of life without losing faith in 
 humanity; always glad and free from sorrow, and 
 without ever feeling his heart hardened under 
 adversity or becoming pufi'ed up when fortune 
 smiled. He was really a good soul, who could 
 smile at the follies of his youth; and yet they 
 seemed to cling to him still. The Emperor Napo- 
 leon, " his natal brother," — as he jokingly said, 
 alluding to the 15th of August — had mounted the 
 height of human greatness more quickly and des- 
 cended from it again still more quickly; while the 
 life of the Surgeon, like a pendulum in its even 
 vibration, swung between the narrower degrees of 
 a success which had never spoiled him, and an 
 adversity which had never crushed him. 
 
 A bachelor all his life, since he happily escaped 
 love's snares in Switzerland, he cherished, how- 
 ever, none of the prejudices which so often cause 
 such men to undervalue the holiest impulses of 
 the heart. He had left books too early to acquire a 
 .thorough education; but his rich experiences of 
 
20 THE SURGEON'S STORIES. 
 
 life had not gone by without benefit, and I was 
 astonished at his knowledge of human nature. 
 
 Often in our childhood and first youth we sat 
 up there in the old garret chamber, around his 
 leather-covered arm-chair, by the light of the 
 crackling fire, and listened to his tales from the 
 world of fiction and from life. His memory was 
 inexhaustible; and as the old proverb says that 
 even the wild stream does not let its waves flow 
 by all at once, so had the Surgeon also a con- 
 tinually new stock of stories, partly from his own 
 time, but still more from periods which had long 
 since passed. He had not a wide historical knowl- 
 edge; his tales were desultory character-sketches 
 rathef than coherent descriptions. More recently, 
 I have found that one must exclude much that 
 was merely gossip and party slander. There was 
 also lacking those broad and elevated views which 
 are only gained through the constant association 
 of thought and feeling with that which is great 
 in life; but what he had was fidelity, warm feeling, 
 and, above all, a power of vivid delineation, 
 such as I will not undertake to reproduce from 
 memory. 
 
 When we had listened long to the old man, it 
 sometimes happened that he took out a half-used- 
 up electric battery, and drew from it spark after 
 spark. " In that way the world sparkled when I 
 was young," said he, laughing; " one had only to 
 apply a finger, and, click! it flashed in all direc- 
 tions. But then it was our Lord who turned the 
 machine." 
 
 But it was rare that he wrote out a story, as he 
 did " The Duchess of Finland." The greater part 
 of his tales were related orally. Many years have 
 
INTRODUCTION. 31 
 
 since rolled by; some of the stories I have forgot- 
 ten, and some 1 have compared with traditions and 
 books. If the reader finds a pleasure in it, the 
 Surgeon will not have narrated his tales in vain 
 during the winter evenings. 
 
The SrEGBO^'s Stoeies. 
 
 FIRST CYCLE: 
 
 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 Part I. — The King's Ring. 
 
 Paet TI. — The Swoed and the Plough. 
 
 PaetIII. — FiEE AND Water. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PART I— THE KING'S RING. 
 
 Inteklcdb . . .... 37 
 
 Chapter I. The Battle of Breitenfeld . 28 
 
 Chapter II. The Nobleman without a Name . 40 
 
 Chapter III. Lady Regina . . . . 46 
 
 Chapter IV. Lady Regina's Oath . . .63 
 
 Chapter V. Judith and Holof ernes . . .72 
 
 Chapter VI The Finns at Lech . ... 96 
 
 Chapter VII. New Adventures . . . 104 
 
 Chapter VIII Nuremberg and Llitzen . . 114 
 
 PART II.— THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 
 
 Interlude 127 
 
 Chapter I. A Man from the Club War . 133 
 
 Chapter II. Ashamed of the Peasant Name 146 
 
 Chapter III. The Southerner in the North . 1 58 
 
 Chapter IV. Peasant, Burgher, and Soldier 167 
 
 Chapter V. The Arrival at Korsholm . . . 174 
 
 Chapter VI. Loves of the South and North . 183 
 
 Chapter VII. The Siege of Korsholm . . .189 
 
 (25) 
 
36 CONTENTS. 
 
 PART III.— FIRE AND WATER. 
 
 iNTEKLtJDE . . . . 204 
 
 Chapter I. Spoils from the Battle-field . . 213 
 
 Chapter II. Two Old Acquaintances . 222 
 
 Chapter III. Tiie Treasure-Room . . . 228 
 
 Chapter IV. The Duke and the Lieutenant . 240 
 
 Chapter V. Reconciliation . . . 245 
 
 Chapter VI. The Battle of Nordlingen . . 257 
 
 Chapter VII. The Prodigal Son ... . 264 
 Chapter VIII. The Fugitive . . .270 
 
 Chapter IX. Don Quixote in the North . . 280 
 
 Chapter X. Kajana Castle .... 289 
 Chapter XI. The Prisoner of State . . .295 
 
 Chapter XII. The Tempter . . . 306 
 
 Chapter XIII. Ahi, Male Spiritm .... 312 
 
 Chapter XIV. The Judgment of the Saints . 320 
 
 Chapter XV. Bertel and Regina . . . 324 
 Chapter XVI. The King's Ring— The Sword and 
 
 thePlough — Fire and Water . 830 
 
TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 PART I.— THE KING'S RING 
 
 INTERLUDE. 
 
 AS you sit in your quiet home, surrounded by 
 peace, comfort, and civilization, do you, reader^ 
 remember those memories, grand and tearful, which 
 still, after hundreds of years, remain, now radiant 
 with the brightness of sunlight, and now darkening, 
 like indelible blood-stains, the variegated pages of 
 history? Can your thoughts, torpid with repose, 
 transport themselves back to the horrors and joys of 
 the past, not straying indifferently from one thing 
 to another which excites your curiosity, but taking 
 a warm and vital interest, as if you yourself stood in 
 the midst of those struggles, now long since fought 
 out, bled in them, conquered or fell in them, and 
 felt your heart beat with hope or apprehension, 
 according as fortune smiled or betrayed? Stand- 
 ing on the heights of history, and looking far 
 around on the wild arena of human destiny, can 
 you transfer yourself into the vale of the past — 
 the life physically buried and decayed, but spirit- 
 ually immortal, which constitutes the essence and 
 substance of history? Did you ever see history 
 portrayed as an old man, with a wise brow and 
 
 (27) 
 
28 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 pulseless heart, weighing all things in the balance 
 of reason? Is not, rather, the genius of history 
 like an eternally blooming maiden, full of fire, 
 with a burning heart and flaming soul, humanly 
 warm and humanly beautiful? 
 
 Therefore, if you have the capacity to suffer or 
 rejoice with the generations that have been ; to hate 
 with them, to love with them; to be transported, to 
 admire, to despise, to curse, as they have done; in 
 a word, to live among them with your whole heart, 
 and not alone with your cold, reflecting judgment, 
 — then follow me! I will lead you down into the 
 vale. My hand is weak, and my sketch humble; 
 but your heart will guide you better than I: upon 
 that I rely — and begin. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF BEEITBNFELD. 
 
 FOR centuries there has resounded through the 
 history of Germany and Sweden a name, at 
 the recollection of which the Swede raises his head 
 higher and the freedom-loving German uncovers 
 his head in admiration. It is Leipzig, Breitenfeld, 
 and the 7th of September, 1631. 
 
 King Gustaf Adolf stood with his Swedes and 
 Finns on German soil, to protect the holiest and 
 highest interests in life -^-liberty and faith. Tilly, 
 the terrible old corporal, had invaded Saxony, and 
 the king followed. Twice already had they met; 
 the tiger had challenged the lion to the contest, 
 
THE KING'S RING. 29 
 
 buttlie lion did not move. Now they stood for the 
 third time in view of each other; the crushing blow 
 must fall, and Germany trembled in anticipation 
 of its fate. 
 
 Early in the morning, the united Swedish and 
 Saxon armies crossed the Loder, and marched 
 toward the village of Breitenfeld, where tliey 
 placed themselves in battle order. It was some 
 new military tactics invented by the king: the 
 foot-soldiers in brigades, the cavalry in small 
 squadrons, between them the musketeers, and 
 the whole in two lines; but the Saxons were by 
 themselves. 
 
 The king rode along the lines, inspected every- 
 thing witli his keen glance, and spoke encouraging 
 words. His eye rested with delight upon these 
 brave men. There stood Gustaf Horn, with his 
 troop of cavalry, on the left wing; in the centre the 
 valiant Teuffel, and in front of, him Torstenson, 
 with his light but formidable leather cannon; 
 Baner with his Livonians, and Hepburn with his 
 Scots, occupied the second lin«. 
 
 Last of all, the king approached the right wing, 
 which he himself commanded. There stood five 
 regiments of cavalry: Tott, with his regiment; 
 So'op, with his Westgoths; Stenbock, with his 
 Smalanders; and, farthest of all, Stalhandske, 
 with the Finns. The king's look brightened 
 more and more as he slowly passed the saluting 
 ranks. 
 
 " Stalhandske," said he, checking his colossal 
 dark-brown steed at the last E'innish division, "I 
 suppose you understand why T have placed you on 
 the flank. Opposite us stands Pappenheim with 
 his Wallachians.' He longs to make my acquaint- 
 ance," remarked the king, smiling; "and I expect 
 
30 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 that we will have a hard tussle if he throws the 
 whole swarm upon us from this side. I rely upon 
 you and your Finns to receive him energetically." 
 
 The king then raised his voice so as to be heard 
 by the whole cavalry force, and added: 
 
 " See to it, boys, that you do not dull your swords 
 on those iron-clad fellows; but rather beat down the 
 horses first, and then you will have easy work with 
 the heavy rider." 
 
 The Finnish cavalry realized full well both the 
 danger and the honor of their position, and were 
 proud of it. The king's confidence inspired all 
 with courage and self-reliance. There was not. a 
 man who did not feel prepared to meet the dreaded 
 Pappenheim himself. On seeing those short and 
 thick-set figures on their small insignificant-looking 
 horses, one would at the first glance have scarcely 
 considered them equal to the attack of the stately 
 Wallachians, on their large, fiery, strongly-built 
 chargers. Tilly himself, in the speech he made to 
 his troops directly before the battle, spoke with 
 contempt of his starved-out naked enemies and 
 their horses, which were meaner than the meanest 
 pack-horses in the Imperial army. 
 
 " Ride straight upon them," added he, " and 
 horse and rider will fall powerless under the hoofs 
 of your snorting steeds." 
 
 But Tilly did not really know his enemy, or 
 pretended not to know him. That which was 
 lacking in the Finnish cavalry in outer bearing 
 and appearance was more than compensated for by 
 their iron muscles and their calm courage, indom- 
 itable in death; while their little horses had all 
 that endurance of the Finnish race, which, during 
 a prolonged and wearisome conflict, contributed 
 not a little to the victory. 
 
THE KING'S RING. 
 
 Followed by the glad hurrahs of the Finns, the 
 king galloped away. Stalhandske turned to his 
 men and repeated the king's words in Finnish. 
 The faces of the eager soldiers shone with pride 
 and joy. 
 
 " Well, Bertila," added -Stalhandske, turning 
 to a young man in the foremost ranks, who rode a 
 handsome black horse and was distinguished from 
 the rest by his height and bearing, " do you feel 
 inclined to win the knight's spur to-day? " 
 
 The one addressed seemed surprised, saluted 
 with his sword, and colored up to the brim of his 
 helmet. " I have never dared to aspire to so great 
 a distinction," answered he, while his glowing 
 cheeks led one to suspect that just this had been 
 the object of his most secret dreams. "I . . . 
 a peasant's son! " he added, hesitatingly. 
 
 Stalhandske smiled. 
 
 " Thunder and lightning! the boy blushes like 
 a bride at the altar! A peasant's son? What the 
 deuce, then, have we others been from the begin- 
 ning? Do you not furnish four fully-equipped 
 horsemen for the war? Has not the Lord placed 
 a heart in your breast and the king a weapon in 
 your hand? That is a coat of arms in itself ; you 
 must attend to the rest." 
 
 A thousand swift thoughts flashed through the 
 horseman's soul. He thought of his childhood 
 away in Finland, in the distant East Bothnia. He 
 remembered how his father, the old Bertila, who 
 during the " Club War" had been one of IDuke 
 Carl's most prominent adherents, afterwards re- 
 ceived from King Carl IX. four large homesteads, 
 each of which furnished a horse and a man, and 
 thus became one of the richest peasants in his 
 country. He recalled his first youth in Stockholm, 
 
33 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 where his father had sent him with the ambitious 
 hope that he might one day gain honor and favor 
 at the king's side; and how he, still more ambi- 
 tious, instead of acquiring peaceful knowledge, 
 learned in secret to fence and to ride, until at last 
 the stern father finally yielded, and allowed him to 
 seek a place in the king's Finnish cavalry. All 
 these recollections crossed the young warrior's 
 mind in an instant; for now, now had come the 
 time, the moment, when he, a youth from the peo- 
 ple, could achieve for himself equal ra^k with 
 this proud nobility which had hitherto looked 
 down with contempt upon him and his class. It 
 was this thought that drove the blood to his 
 cheeks; he felt that it could impel him to face 
 death. 
 
 Yet this was not all. His youthful heart ex- 
 panded at the thought of fighting, under the eyes 
 of the hero-king, a hard and decisive battle for 
 his religious freedom, his country's glory, for all 
 that is dearest and holiest in life; and this convic- 
 tion, shared by the whole army, with the exception 
 of some hired foreign troops, bore within it the 
 certainty and foretaste of victory, even before the 
 strife began. 
 
 Before the young horseman had time to reply 
 to his noble-spirited chief, the king's high voice 
 was heard in the distance calling to prayer. The 
 chivalric hero took off his helmet as he lowered 
 the point of his sword to the earth, and this mo- 
 tion was followed immediately by all the sur- 
 rounding troops. And the king prayed in a sono- 
 rous voice: 
 
 " Thou all-merciful God, who bearest victory 
 and defeat in Thy hand, turn Thy beneficent coun- 
 tenance to us, Thy servants! From distant lands 
 
THE KING'S RING. 33 
 
 and peaceful homes have we come, to fight for 
 freedom, for truth, for Thy Gospel. Give us vic- 
 tory, for Thy holy name's sake! Amen." 
 
 At these words, a deep trust filled every breast. 
 
 The Swedish trumpeter rode forth to challenge 
 the Imperial hosts, and Tilly answered proudly 
 that the king well knew where to find him. 
 
 By noon the attacking Swedish army came 
 within range of the Imperial artillery, which was 
 stationed on the heights behind the ranks. The 
 Swedish artillery responded, and the battle com- 
 menced. The sun shone right in the assailants' 
 eyes; the south-west wind sent clouds of dust over 
 them, and whirls of thick gunpowder smoke. The 
 king wheeled his army to the right, so as to get 
 the wind and sun on the flank. Pappenheim asked 
 for orders to prevent this; and receiving leave, he 
 hurried forward like a prairie fire, swung round, 
 and took the Swedish right wing in the flank. In 
 an instant the king threw the Rhine Count's regi- 
 ment and Baner's cavalry in his way. The colli- 
 sion was terrible; horses and riders tumbled over 
 each other. Pappenheim drew back, but only to 
 throw himself the next moment upon the Finns. 
 The Wallachians' long dark lines rushed forward 
 in blind fury: in vain; they encountered a wall of 
 iron. Their first rank was crushed, the next 
 wheeled round; the second attack was repulsed. 
 Pappenheim raged; for the third time he rushed to 
 the assault. The Finns now had the Livonians 
 and Courlanders at their side. Stalhandske re- 
 ceived his enemy as coolly and resolutely as 
 before. It was impossible to break through this 
 living wall. 
 
 Stolid and slow to anger, the Finns had hith- 
 erto defended themselves with imperturbable 
 C 
 
34 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 calmness. But gradually they too became excited 
 in the heat of the conflict. At the fourth attack 
 the enemy's rage had communicated itself to 
 them, and it was now scarcely possible to restrain 
 them. Stalhandske's mighty tones sounded above 
 the tumult of battle; once more tlie cavalry divis- 
 ions closed up their ranks, once more the foe was 
 thrown back. But Pappenheim, covered with 
 wounds, urged on his Wallachians for the fifth 
 time. And now the Finnish lines divided, but 
 only to inclose the assailants in their iron embrace. 
 It became a hand-to-hand struggle, and the Wal- 
 lachians' horses began to tire. But. their fury was 
 as great as their defeat. For the fifth time re- 
 pulsed, they made a sixth charge, equally bloody, 
 equally futile. The seventh time Pappenheim was 
 followed only by his most faithful men, and when 
 this last desperate effort only covered the field 
 with the bodies of the aggressors, his dreaded 
 voice availed nothing more. The remaining Wal- 
 lachians scattered themselves in the wildest flight 
 toward Breitenfeld. 
 
 Covered with blood and dust, the Finns took 
 breath. But scarcely had the smoke cleared away 
 for an instant, before they discovered a cut-ofF 
 remnant of the enemy's force. It was the Duke 
 of Holstein, with his regiment of infantry, which 
 had accompanied Pappenheim. The Finns were 
 now warmed up at last, and not to be checked. 
 Together with the East Goths, they surrounded 
 the Holsteiners, crushed and annihilated them: 
 these brave fellows defended themselves to the last 
 man, and fell in the same order which they had 
 held in the conflict. 
 
 While this occurred on the right wing, the left 
 had fallen into the greatest peril. Fiirstenberg, 
 
THE KING'S RING. 35 
 
 with his Croats, had attacked the Saxons, and these 
 soon began to falter. Tilly saw his two wings 
 engaged, and finally advanced with' his sixteen 
 large tertiers which formed the centre. Like a 
 thunder-cloud his proud hosts spread themselves 
 over the plain. Torstenson gave him a warm wel- 
 come. The cannon-balls swept terribly through 
 the Imperial lines; Tilly drew aside, left Pappen- 
 heim, and threw himself upon the Saxons. An 
 avalanche in its fall could not occasion greater 
 destruction. Scattered at the first shock, the Sax- 
 ons fled in all directions — their Elector leading in 
 the flight — plundering all whom they met in the 
 way. Tilly could now throw his masses against 
 Horn and the left wing of the Swedes. Pressed 
 by a formidable superior force, the latter withdrew 
 slowly to the left, every moment ready to succumb 
 in the unequal contest. The king hastened there, 
 and cried to Callenbach, with the reserve, to close 
 in, for God's sake! Callenbach did so, but fell in 
 the first onslaught. Teuff'el had the same fate. 
 At last, Hepburn, with his Scots, and Soop, with 
 the Smalanders, marched to Horn's assistance. 
 The Croats rushed against Hepburn in thick 
 swarms; then the Scots opened their ranks; the 
 concealed cannon commenced firing, and strewed 
 the field with corpses. Others of the enemy 
 pressed on in their track. The Scots met them 
 with a shower of bullets so terrible in its eff'ect 
 that whole ranks fell to the ground. The smoke 
 and dust from all the rest of the field was driven 
 here in dense clouds. Friends and enemies were 
 mixed together in murderous confusion; they 
 foiight with swords and gunstocks, and victory 
 inclined now to one side, now to the other. 
 
 Then began again unexpectedly the thunder of 
 
36 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 cannon from the heights. The king, at the head 
 of his cavalry, with the Finns in front, had con- 
 quered the Imperial artillery and turned their own 
 cannon against them. This circumstance decided 
 the issue of the battle. In vain had Pappenheira 
 tried to regain the height; for the eighth time he 
 was compelled to yield. The king, with his vic- 
 torious right wing, bore down upon the enemy's 
 flank. Everything was thrown into confusion. 
 Tilly wept with rage. Pappenheim, who with his 
 own hand had hewn down fourteen Swedes and 
 Finns, was beside himself with fury. In vain were 
 both threats and prayers; the Imperialists retreated 
 in wild disorder. Tilly, whose famous gray steed 
 was shot under him, barely escaped being taken 
 prisoner; and the king's victory was complete. 
 
 But a bloody scene yet remained. Four regi- 
 ments of infantry belonging to Tilly's veteran 
 troops had withdrawn in good order from the field 
 and placed themselves in the way of the pursuing 
 Swedes. The king charged them with the right 
 wing, Tott's cavalry, the Smalanders, and Finns. 
 It was a hot skirmish: the Wallachians fought des- 
 perately; even while dying, they tried to pierce 
 their enemies' horses as they rode over them. No 
 quarter was asked, and none granted. At length 
 the approaching darkness saved the remainder of 
 this brave force, which retreated to Leipzig. The 
 battle was ended. 
 
 The results of this victory were immeasurable. 
 Gustaf Adolf, fearful of losing them through some 
 imprudence, marshalled his troops at seven o'clock 
 in the evening for the second time, and made them 
 spend the night in order of battle. But first, 
 the king rode from rank to rank, to thank his 
 brave men. 
 
THE KING'S RING. 37 
 
 " Stalhandske," said the king, when he came 
 to the Finnish lines, " you and your men have all 
 fought well, as I expected you would do. I thank 
 you, my children! I am proud of you." 
 
 A jubilant cheer was the response of the troops. 
 
 " But," continued the king, " there was one 
 among you who sprang from his horse, and, fore- 
 most of all, climbed the heights to take the Im- 
 perialists' cannon. Where is he?" 
 
 A young horseman rode from the ranks. 
 
 " Pardon, your majesty," stammered he. "I did 
 it without orders, and therefore merit death." 
 
 The kina: smiled. "Your name?" 
 
 " BertilaV" 
 
 " From East Bothnia? " 
 
 " Yes, your majesty." 
 
 "Good. To-morrow morning, at seven o'clock, 
 you may present yourself, to hear your doom." 
 
 The king rode on, and the horseman returned 
 to his place. 
 
 Night broke over the bloody field, covered with 
 nine thousand mutilated corpses. The Finnish 
 cavalry bivouacked on the heights where they had 
 taken Tilly's cannon. The debris and the dead were 
 quickly removed, and a fire of broken gun-carriages 
 and musket-stocks spread its ruddy glow in the mild 
 September night. The sky was clear, and through 
 the thin smoke the eternal stars looked down upon 
 this scene of carnage and strife. 
 
 The first care of the cavalry was to give their 
 horses oats, and to water them at the Loder's 
 muddy banks. Thereupon they had encamped 
 around the fires upon the hillside, each man in 
 his place, fully armed, and ready to spring up at 
 the first alarm. The ground was slippery with dew 
 and blood, but the fatigue was so great that many fell 
 
38 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 asleep on the spot where they had thrown them- 
 selves down. Others kept themselves in good spirits 
 ■with food and drink; they had a good stock of ale, 
 and let the tankard pass from hand to hand, as far 
 even as the pickets, so long as there was a drop 
 left; and drank, jokingly, the health of the Im- 
 perialists. 
 
 " And that they to-night may die of thirst! " 
 
 "Or drink to their own funeral! " 
 
 " Long live the king! " 
 
 At this moment was heard, quite near them, 
 from a portion of the field dimly lighted by the 
 fire, a woful voice, pitifully entreating help. The 
 soldiers, accustomed to such things, knew by the 
 foreign accent that the man was no comrade of 
 theirs, and gave themselves no concern. But the 
 piercing shrieks continued incessantly. 
 
 " Pekka, go there and give the Austrian dog 
 a final thrust," cried some of the men, who felt 
 annoyed at these wailing sounds. 
 
 Pekka, one of Bertila's four dragoons, short in 
 stature, but strong as a bear, went reluctantly to 
 stop the complainer's mouth. Superstitious, like all 
 his comrades, he was not quite at ease among the 
 dead on a dark night. Bertila, absorbed in thoughts 
 of the next morning, did not notice this disturb- 
 ance. 
 
 In a few minutes Pekka came back, dragging 
 with him a dark body, which, to the astonishment 
 of all, was found to be a monk, easily recognizable 
 by his tonsure. Around his coarse gown he wore 
 a rope of hemp, but to the rope hung the scabbard 
 of a long sword. 
 
 "A monk! A Jesuit! " muttered the soldiers. 
 
 " Yes, what would you have me do?" rejoined 
 
THE KING'S RING. 39 
 
 Pekka, in perplexity. " When I raised my arm to 
 strike, he parried the blow with a crucifix." 
 
 " Slay him! He is one of the Devil's allies, who 
 steal around in sheep's clothing' to murder kings 
 and burn faithful Christians at the stake." 
 
 "Down with him! When we stormed the 
 heights, this same man stood with his crucifix 
 among the Imperialists, and fired off a cannon." 
 
 "Let's see whether the precious object is of 
 silver! " exclaimed one of the soldiers; and, stick- 
 ing his hand inside the monk's gown, he drew 
 forth, in spite of his resistance, a crucifix of silver, 
 richly gilded. 
 
 " Just as' I thought. Satan has plenty of gold." 
 
 " Let me see it," said an old cavalryman. " I 
 know something about monks' tricks." He then 
 examined the gilded image on all sides; and, 
 behold! as he pressed a little spring in its breast, 
 a sharp-edged dagger sprang from it. 
 
 As if stung by a serpent, the soldier flung the 
 crucifix far from him. Horror and disgust had 
 seized upon all the bystanders. 
 
 "Hang the viper by his own rope!" cried the 
 soldiers. 
 
 " There is no tree here," objected one, "and none 
 are allowed to leave the ranks." 
 
 " Drown him! " 
 
 " There is no water." 
 
 "Club him!" 
 
 No one would overcome his aversion so far as 
 to touch the Jesuit. 
 
 " What shall we do with him?" 
 
 '■'■Misericordia! Gnade! " exclaimed the cap- 
 tive, who, hitherto stunned by a wound in the head, 
 began to regain speech and strength. 
 
40 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 "Give him a kick, and let him go," proposed 
 one. " We are Christian soldiers, and fear no dev- 
 iltry." 
 
 "At least I will mark you first, highly reverend 
 father, that we may know you if we meet you 
 again," joined in one of the men, a Tavastlander 
 by the name of Witikka, known for his strength 
 and ferocity; and letting his long sword swing sev- 
 eral times around the Jesuit's head, he cut off, 
 before any one could prevent it, both his ears so 
 skillfully that scarcely a hair was grazed. " Saint 
 Peter could not have done it better! " exclaimed 
 Witikka, laughing. 
 
 They who stood nearest turned away. Rude 
 as they were, and accustomed to the cruelty of 
 war, they considered this too gross a joke. 
 
 Bleeding, the Jesuit crept away on his hands 
 and knees; but long was his voice heard from the 
 surrounding darkness : '< Maledicti Fennones I 
 maledicti ! maledicti ! Vos comburat ignis sem- 
 piternus! " * 
 
 " Our Father who art in Heaven ! " began a 
 voice in the cavalry ranks. And all joined 
 devoutly in the prayer. 
 
 Chapter ii. 
 
 THE NOBLEMAN WITHOUT A NAME. 
 
 ON the morning of the 8th of September, at 
 daybreak, the whole Swedish camp whs in 
 animation. Victory was certain; from all direc- 
 
 • Cursed Finns ! May the eternal fire consume you ! 
 
THE KING'S RING. 41 
 
 tions came the intelligence of the total rout of the 
 Imperial army. The king sent a part of the 
 cavalry in pursuit of the enemy, while the 
 remainder of the troops received the agreeable 
 commission to plunder Tilly's camp, which was 
 regularly apportioned among them. Great was 
 the pillage; many here became rich for life. Ail 
 was activity; the dead were tumbled into their 
 graves in haste, the wounded forgot their pains. 
 In the clear September morning, the whole broad 
 plain swarmed with jubilant crowds on foot and 
 horseback; and here, if ever, could one apply 
 von Beskow's expression: 
 
 "The air was cooled by flags of victory." 
 
 The king had passed the night in a carriage. 
 After he had offered prayer, and given the first 
 orders of the day, he sent for several of those who 
 had most distinguished themselves in the battle. 
 Many a brave deed was there rewarded with 
 honor and promotion. But higher than any other 
 reward was their own inner satisfaction, and the 
 approval of the hero whom all Europe had now 
 learned to admire. 
 
 Among those summoned before the king, was a 
 young man who plays a prominent part in this 
 story. Gustaf Bertila was only twenty; his heart 
 beat, at this moment, more quickly than it had 
 done during the heat of the conflict. It is true, 
 he expected that the king's magnanimity would 
 not hold him blameworthy for disregarding orders 
 in the hurry of battle; but he reddened and paled 
 under the uncertainty of the king's purpose in 
 this audience, which was in itself so great a dis- 
 tinction. 
 
 The king's tent had been raised under one of 
 3* 
 
43 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 the large elms at Gross Wetteritz; for all the 
 buildings in the vicinity were partly burned down 
 or demolished, by friend or foe. After a half- 
 hour's waiting, Bertila was shown into the tent. 
 Gustaf Adolf sat on a camp-stool, with his arm 
 resting upon a table covered with charts and 
 papers. He was tall and well built; the tight- 
 - fitting bufi' coat gave to his form a still more 
 portly appearance. When Bertila entered, the 
 king raised his mild, expressive eyes from a new- 
 ly-signed order, and fixed a penetrating glance 
 upon the young man. Gustaf Adolf was some- 
 what near-sighted; a certain eifort to recognize a 
 person, especially one with whom he was but little 
 acquainted, gave his look a sharpness, which 
 immediately afterwards disappeared. 
 
 "Your name is Bertila?" said the king, as if 
 to assure himself that he had yesterday heard 
 aright. 
 
 " Yes, your majesty." 
 
 " Your age ? " 
 
 " Twenty years." 
 
 The king looked at him with a doubtful ex- 
 pression. 
 
 " His son, did you say ? " 
 
 The young cavalier bowed, blushing. 
 
 "Strange!" 
 
 The king uttered this word as if unconsciously, 
 and seemed thoughtful for a moment; then he re- 
 sumed, with animation: 
 
 " Why have you not announced yourself to me 
 before? Your father has rendered my father and 
 the kingdom great services. I hope he is still 
 living." 
 
 " He is living, and grateful for your majesty's 
 goodness." 
 
THE KIN'G'S RING. 43 
 
 " Indeed ! " 
 
 This word, like the former, resembled rather a 
 secret thought than a question to the hearer. The 
 young Bertila felt the blood rising more and more 
 to his cheeks, and the king perceived it. 
 
 " Your father and I were once at variance," 
 added the king, with a smile on his lips, while a 
 slight cloud shadowed his brow. " Still," contin- 
 ued he, " all this is long since forgotten, and I am 
 glad to find that such a deserving man has such a 
 brave son. You were with the seventy Finns at 
 Demmin? " 
 
 " Yes, your majesty." 
 
 " And you have not been mentioned for pro- 
 motion ? " 
 
 " My commander has promised to bear me in 
 mind." 
 
 " Your king never forgets a faithful service. 
 Grustaf Bertila, I have just issued your commis- 
 sion as ensign. Take it, and continue to serve 
 with honor.'' 
 
 " Your majesty ! " stammered the young cava- 
 lier. 
 
 "I have yet a word to say to you. Your con- 
 duct yesterday was contrary to orders." 
 
 " Yes, your majesty." 
 
 " I desire my soldiers to obey scrupulously. I 
 am told, however, that you sprang from your 
 horse at the foot of the steepest hill, in order to 
 get up more quickly." 
 
 " That is true, your majesty." 
 
 " And that you, therefore, while the rest of the 
 cavalry made a detour, arrived first on the hill, cut 
 down two Austrians, and took the first cannon." 
 
 " Yes, your majesty." 
 
 " That is well. Ensign Bertila, I pardon your 
 
44: TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 disregard of orders, and appoint you lieutenant in 
 my Finnish cavalry." 
 
 The young ofBcer lacked words. 
 
 The king himself was moved. " Come nearer, 
 young man," said he. " You ought to know that 
 once, in my youth, I did your father a great wrong. 
 Heaven, knowing my repentance, has at length 
 sent me an opportunity of making amends to the 
 son for the wrong done to the father. Lieutenant 
 Bertila, you are brave and noble; you have re- 
 ceived a military education. You have also 
 brought into my service four fully-equipped 
 horsemen. As an officer under my command, you 
 are already a nobleman's equal. But in order that 
 none of my officers, of however high birth, may 
 consider you, a peasant's son, beneath them in 
 standing, 1 will give you a name, a coat of arms, 
 
 and a knight's spur. Go, young man go, 
 
 my son," repeated the king, with inexplicable 
 emotion, " and show yourself worthy your king's 
 favor." 
 
 " Unto death ! " And, overpowered by his 
 feelings, the young warrior bent a knee before 
 Tilly's conqueror. 
 
 The king rose. The emotion which for a 
 moment was reflected upon his manly and hand- 
 some face, quickly gave place to the majesty of 
 the monarch and the commanding expression of 
 the great conqueror. The young Bertila under- 
 stood that the audience was ended. 
 
 Yet he still remained in his kneeling position, 
 and handed the king a letter, which, until that 
 morning, he had worn sewed in his coat. 
 
 " Deign to read this letter, your majesty! 
 When, before I entered the field, I bade farewell 
 to my old father, he presented me this, and said: 
 
THE KING'S RING. 45 
 
 ' My son, go; try to deserve your king's grace 
 through faithfulness and manly courage. And if 
 you succeed in one day winning his favor on your 
 own account, and not merely because of your fath- 
 er's name, then give him this letter and tell him 
 that it is my testament. His great heart will 
 understand what I mean.' " 
 
 The king took the letter, broke the seal, and 
 read. His features betrayed an intense but sup- 
 pressed emotion; the violent dark flush, often in 
 later years the only witness of the struggles of a 
 soul which knew how to govern itself, rose like a 
 slight cloud to the king's brow, crimsoned it a 
 moment, and then disappeared again, leaving no 
 trace. When he had finished the perusal, his eyes 
 rested thoughtfully on the handsome fair young 
 man, who still knelt at his feet. 
 
 " Rise! " said he, finally. 
 
 Bertila did so. 
 
 " Do you know the contents of this letter? " 
 
 " No, your majesty." 
 
 The king eyed him sharply, and seemed satis- 
 fied with the honest and frank expression in the 
 youth's face. 
 
 "Your father, young man," continued he, after 
 a short pause, " your father is a singular person. 
 He has hated the nobility ever since the days of 
 the Club War, when he fought many hard battles 
 at the head of the peasants, and when the Flem- 
 ming cavalry quartered themselves so rudely at his 
 house. He forbids you ever to accept a noble name 
 and escutcheon, if you wish to escape his paternal 
 curse." 
 
 Bertila did not answer. A bolt from a clear 
 sky had descended upon his young happiness; all 
 
46 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 his ambitious dreams of a coat of arms and a 
 knight's spur were at once annihilated. 
 
 " A father's will must be obeyed," continued 
 the king, with earnestness. " The noble name I 
 intended to confer on you, you can not bear. 
 Calm yourself, my young friend; you retain your 
 sword and your lieutenant's rank; with them, and 
 your brave arm, the path of honor will always 
 stand open to you." 
 
 And, at a sign from the king, the young sol- 
 dier withdrew. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 LADY EBGINA. 
 
 IT was three or four weeks after the battle of 
 Breitenfeld, when, one chilly October day, the 
 beautiful Regina von Emmerttz, niece of the 
 bishop, sat in a room in one of the turrets of the 
 castle at Wiirtzburg, in company with three or four 
 of her maidens, engaged in embroidering a picture 
 of the Virgin Mary on a banner of white satin, 
 intended to be presented, in token of their victo- 
 ries, to the garrison of the castle. The young 
 girls were indulging in a lively conversation; for 
 the master of the castle, the avaricious old bishop, 
 had just started off, as he pretended, on a journey 
 through the diocese, but, in reality, to escape Gus- 
 taf Adolf's approaching hosts. Fearing for his 
 treasures, he had previously intrusted the defense 
 of the town and castle to the bold cavalry com- 
 mander, Keller, with fifteen hundred men; and 
 
THE KING'S RING. 47 
 
 Keller, relying upon the castle's impregnable posi- 
 tion on the banks of the Main, had assured his 
 reverence that sooner should the heretic king 
 crush his head against those walls than any of his 
 godless followers gain an entrance. 
 
 The beautiful Regina was scarcely sixteen ; she 
 had locks dark as night, cheeks fresh as the dawn, 
 and a pair of black eyes, deeply shining, like two 
 stars which at midnight mirror themselves in a 
 lonely lake. She was the old bishop's idol; he had 
 left her as unwillingly as his treasures in the for- 
 tress. But Keller had assured him that solid walls, 
 bristling with cannon, were, in such unquiet times, 
 the best security for beauty; and Keller was a 
 knight of faith and honor: with such a precious 
 charge he would rather bury himself under the 
 ruins of the castle than surrender. 
 
 Lady Regina raised her dark eyes from the 
 embroidery and looked out through the little tur- 
 ret-window over the river, where a carriage, 
 escorted by some horsemen, was crossing the 
 bridge from the town to the castle. 
 
 "Who can the traveler be?" exclaimed she, 
 with the rapt look which she rarely bestowed upon 
 any object save the large and beautiful marble 
 figure of the Madonna, in her sanctuary. 
 
 " Ah," exclaimed Katchen, the youngest and 
 most talkative of the maidens, "ah, Holy Virgin! 
 how delightful it is to live in war times! Every 
 day new faces, fine cavaliers, brave young squires, 
 and now and then a jolly trip to town. It is quite 
 a different thing from sitting here, shut up in a 
 cloister, and hearing the monks chant De Pfofun- 
 dis from morning till night. Yes," continued she, 
 saucily, " may his grace, the bishop, only stay away 
 a good long while! " 
 
48 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 " Katohen," chided Resjina, " take care not ta 
 speak ill of the monks' masses! Remember that 
 our confessor, Father Hieronyraus, is a member of 
 the holy Inquisition, and that the castle prison is 
 both deep and dark." 
 
 Katchen became mute for a moment. Then she 
 answered, boldly: 
 
 " Were I in your place, my lady, I would 
 rather think of the handsome Count of Lichten- 
 stein than of that odious Father Hieronymus. He 
 is a fine chevalier; God grant that he may return 
 victorious from the war against the heretics! " 
 
 " And that they may all be exterminated with 
 fire and sword! " joined in one of the maidens, with 
 pious fervor. 
 
 " Poor heretics! " exclaimed Katohen, smiling. 
 
 "Take care!" repeated Lady Regina, with 
 naive seriousness. "A heretic deserves no mercy. 
 One who kills a heretic has seven sins pardoned; 
 so Father Hieronymus has often told me. To hate 
 the heretics is the eighth sacrament, and to love a 
 single one of them is to consign your soul to the 
 abyss." 
 
 As she spoke, Regina's black eyes flashed. 
 One could see that the reverend father's teachings, 
 had taken deep root in her soul. 
 
 Katchen did not lose courage. 
 
 " It is said that their king is mild and noble, 
 that he shelters all the defenseless, and allows no- 
 excesses in his soldiers." 
 
 " Satan often disguises himself in an angel's, 
 shape." 
 
 " They say that his men are brave and humane. 
 I, myself, heard an old Italian soldier describe to 
 the garrison at the armory how seventy men, of a 
 heretic people called Finns, for more than an hour 
 
THE KING'S RING. 49 
 
 defended their king against fifteen hundred Nea- 
 politans. And when most o.f the heretics had 
 fallen, the rest gained assistance and at last tri- 
 umphed; but afterwards they bound up the 
 wounds of their enemies, no less than of their 
 comrades." 
 
 Lady Regina rose, and was about to give a stern 
 answer, when at that instant a servant appeared at 
 the door, and announced that the Count of Lich- 
 tenstein, sick and wounded, had arrived at the castle 
 and asked hospitality. The young Regina, who, as 
 the bishop's niece, was to be regarded as the mis- 
 tress of the castle during his absence, immediately 
 hastened down to welcome the new guest, who was 
 a distant relative of hers. 
 
 The maidens exchanged glances, as if they consid- 
 ered this event especially significant. It had long 
 been whispered among them, that the old bishop 
 had chosen the count as the future spouse of the 
 young lady; but in vain had they tried to discover 
 a blush on her cheeks at the news of his coming. 
 If Lady Regina cherished any tenderer feeling, she 
 at least knew how to conceal it. 
 
 "Is it true," said one of the maidens, "that the 
 heretic king has won a great victory over the true 
 believers, and is approaching this place with his 
 godless army?" 
 
 " So it is said," answered another. "But he can 
 not come here. Our people have erected an image 
 of the Swedish saint Brigitta in his way, in Thiir- 
 ingen Forest; and she will know how to check his 
 progress." 
 
 In the meantime, Lady Regina had one of the 
 
 bishop's own rooms put in order for her guest, and 
 
 provided in every way for his comfort. The young 
 
 Count of Lichtenstein was a proud and stately 
 
 D 3 
 
60 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 youth, dark as a Spaniard, and with eyes almost as 
 flashing as Regina's.- He approached his beautiful 
 hostess with faltering steps, and yet with looks be- 
 fore which Regina cast down her eyes. 
 
 " How grateful am I not to Heaven," said he, 
 "for these wounds, which have procured me the 
 happiness of having so beautiful a nurse! " 
 
 The count's wounds were many, but not dan- 
 gerous. Taken prisoner at Breitenfeld, he had 
 shortly afterwards, still weak from his wounds, 
 been exchanged, and immediately hastened here, 
 to regain health and strength in the neighborhood 
 of his heart's mistress. 
 
 " But," added he, after this account, "I learned 
 with great uneasiness that the enemy, eager for 
 prey, was rollinsr its masses hither like a devastat- 
 ing flood, to the rich valleys of Franconia. All the 
 more quickly did I hurry to you, beautiful Regina, 
 to share your vicissitudes and dangers. Be calm! 
 KOnigshofen will make a stand against them; and 
 Father Hieronymus, who, wounded like me, escaped 
 from Breitenfeld, is stirring the country people to 
 resistance all along the enemy's route." 
 
 "And so you think," replied Regina, anxiously, 
 " that those godless heretics will venture so far as 
 this?" 
 
 "The protection of the saints will be with 
 beauty," answered the count, evasively. "Be- 
 sides, we will soon receive more trusty news." 
 
 At these words, Regina looked out of the win- 
 dow, and saw a troop of horsemen hurrying at full 
 speed toward the castle. 
 
 "I am not mistaken," exclaimed she; "there is 
 Father Hieronymus himself ! " 
 
 " Bad omen! " muttered the count, between his 
 teeth. 
 
THE KING'S RING. 51 
 
 Lady Regina had seen aright; it was Father 
 Hieronymus who at that moment rode over the 
 drawbridge. In appearance, the father was a 
 little unpretending man, pale and thin, with sharp 
 energetic features, and deep-set hollow eyes, whose 
 restless glance flew spyingly from one object to 
 another. Around the waist of his black gown he 
 wore a rope of hemp, from which hung a long 
 sword. But no longer did the tonsure gleam from 
 the top of his crown. Wounded in the head, he 
 wore over it a sort of skull-cap, or calotte of 
 leather, whose, black color made a ghastly con- 
 trast with his corpse-like face. Never had the 
 dreaded Jesuit shown himself in such repulsive 
 form. All the soldiers presented arms; all the 
 servants of the castle hastened to receive his com- 
 mands. A secret anxiety took possession of all the 
 bystanders. It was as though death and disaster 
 had in his person ridden through the portals of 
 Castle Wiirtzburg. 
 
 The monk surveyed, with a hasty glance, the 
 garrison drawn up in the court-yard, and then 
 greeted Lady Regina with a smile, which was 
 probably intended to modify the repulsiveness of 
 his aspect, but which only made it still more hid- 
 eous. 
 
 " Saint Patrick and all the saints protect you, 
 gracious lady! The times are very bad, very bad! 
 The Holy Virgin has permitted the heathen to pene- 
 trate to our very gates ... on account of our 
 sins," added he, crossing himself devoutly, 
 
 "And Ki3nigshofen?" inquired Count Fritz, who 
 divined the answer. 
 
 " The faithless commander has surrendered." 
 
 "But the peasants, who were to oppose the 
 enemy's march through the forest ? " 
 
52 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 "All are scattered like chaff ... on account 
 of our sins." 
 
 "And the holy Brigitta's image'? " 
 
 " The godless heretics have placed it as a scare- 
 crow in a grain-field. But," continued the father 
 — and his voice acquired a commanding sharpness 
 — " what is this I see, my daughter? You are still 
 here, and the castle is filled with women and chil- 
 dren, while the enemy is every instant expected at 
 our gates?" 
 
 " Lady Regina shall never lack protection so 
 long as this arm is able to wield a sword," inter- 
 posed Count Fritz. 
 
 " The castle is provisioned for a whole year," 
 said Regina, timidly. " But, worthy father, you are 
 fatigued; you are wounded, and need rest. Let me 
 dress your wounds; you are injured in the head! " 
 
 "A trifle, my daughter, a mere nothing. Who 
 now should think of me? You must go instantly 
 . . . to the stronghold of Aschaffenburg." 
 
 "I fear it is too late," exclaimed Count Fritz, 
 who was looking out upon the river and town. 
 
 "Holy Mary! are they here already?" 
 
 The Jesuit and Lady Regina flew to the win- 
 dow. The afternoon sun cast its last rays over 
 Wiirtzburg and the surrounding country. Horse- 
 men were seen riding at full speed through the 
 streets, and a large crowd of fleeing inhabitants 
 were already moving toward the castle: monks 
 and nuns, women and children, who hurriedly 
 dragged with them hand-carts loaded with their 
 valuables. Beyond the town, in the direction of 
 Schweinfurt, on the east side of the Main, ap- 
 peared a troop of cavalry, from whose threatening 
 but cautious advance one could without difficulty 
 recognize the vanguard of the Swedish army. 
 
THE KING'S RING. 53 
 
 " Maledicti Fennones ! " burst out the Jesuit, 
 with an indescribable expression of hate on his 
 pale countenance. " These heretics have wings! 
 May the earth swallow them! " And he hurried 
 out with fanatic zeal, to place himself at the head 
 of the defenders of the castle. 
 
 The bishop's castle, also called Marienburg, 
 raises its old walls from a height on the right bank 
 of the Main. Toward the riv^r side of the town 
 the heights are steep and rocky, but on the opposite 
 side sloping and easily accessible. A rampart, 
 crescent-shaped, formed a strong outwork before 
 the gates; if the enemy overcame this obstacle, a 
 deep moat, cut in the rock, awaited him on the 
 other side; and should he succeed in crossing this, 
 then he would find in his way the inner and high- 
 est castle-wall, swarming with iron-clad warriors, 
 ready to shoot down with their heavy muskets all 
 who approached; or, if he came nearer, to cut hun 
 down with their long halberds, or crush him with 
 the large stones collected on the walls. When we 
 add to this, that the only passage over the river 
 was a narrow bridge, and that the castle's forty- 
 eight cannon commanded the whole town and the 
 region far around, it will be seen that Keller, at 
 the head of fifteen hundred brave men, and richly 
 provided with all necessaries, had good grounds 
 for bidding the departing bishop to be of good 
 cheer. 
 
 But Gustaf Adolf had also an important 
 reason for making himself master of this fortress, 
 cost what it would. Tilly had drawn reinforce- 
 ments from all directions; and, a few weeks after 
 the battle of Breitenfeld, fully prepared, and 
 eager for revenge, was on the march from Hessen, 
 with thirty thousand men to assist Wiirtzburg. 
 
54 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 The king challenged the town, and forced an 
 entrance into the suburbs; but it was already 
 late in the evening, and the attack had to be post- 
 poned The next morning the town surrendered. 
 But Keller had profited by the darkness of the 
 night to transfer his whole force, a large number 
 of fugitives, and the portable property of the 
 town, to the castle, after which he blew up two 
 arches of the bridge across the Main, and thus 
 blocked the enemy's way. 
 
 But to return to the fortress. 
 
 That night none but the little children had 
 slept in the bishop's castle. New crowds of 
 soldiers, monks and women were constantly 
 arriving ; one baggage-wagon after another 
 rattled in through the castle gates; the echo of 
 the archways repeated the cries of the sentinels, 
 the commands of the officers, and the weeping of 
 tKe children; and in the midst of all this noise 
 and confusion, were plainly heard the masses of 
 the monks, who in the chapel invoked the protec- 
 tion of the Holy Virgin and all the saints in 
 behalf of the threatened fortress, the strongest 
 Catholic bulwark in all Franconia. 
 
 To make room for all the fleeing crowds. Lady 
 Regina had not only thrown open the bishop's 
 private apartments, but also the two magnificent 
 rooms set apart for her own use in the interior of 
 the castle, and, with her maids, moved up into the 
 small chambers in the east turret. In vain was it 
 represented to her that this point was exposed to 
 the enemy's fire. She had here the best and most 
 extensive prospect in the whole castle, and this 
 position she was not willing to exchange. 
 
 " Hinder me not ! " said she to the warning 
 
THE KING'S RING. 55 
 
 Jesuit. " I wish to see the heretics bleed and fall 
 before our cannon. It will be a glorious sight." 
 
 "Amen !" answered Father Hieronymus. " You 
 know, my daughter, that this castle is protected 
 by two miraculous images of the Virgin, one of 
 pure gold, the other of gilded wood. 1 will hang 
 up the latter in your room; it will avert the 
 enemy's bullets, like so many puff-balls, from your 
 turret." 
 
 At daybreak. Lady Regina was on the look- 
 out at her little turret- window. It was a glorious 
 sight, as the sun rose over the autumn hills, with 
 their still verdant vineyards, among which the 
 river Main wound like a band of silver and gold, 
 glittering in the morning sunlight. Yonder in 
 the town all was activity: four Swedish infantry 
 regiments marched in with ilags flying and bands 
 playing; their armor shone in the sunlight, and 
 the officers' plumes waved in the wind. At this 
 sight, the hearts of the young girls alternated 
 between emotions of fear and curiosity. 
 
 " Do you see," said Lady Regina to Katchen, 
 "the two horsemen in the yellow jackets, who 
 ride at the head ot the heretic troop ?" 
 
 " What a fine bearing they have ! Now they 
 turn round a street corner .... there they 
 are asrain. See how all make way for them! " 
 
 " Send for Count Fritz. He has been in the 
 Swedish camp more than two weeks, and knows 
 all their chief men." 
 
 The count, who was prevented by his wounds 
 from taking part in the defense of the castle, 
 willingly obeyed the beautiful Regina's call. 
 
 In the meantime the Swedes had taken posses- 
 sion of the town, and began to show themselves in 
 
56 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF 
 
 scattered groups at the shore and by the exploded 
 bridge. At that instant the castle cannon opened 
 fire. Now here, now there, a ball fell among the 
 Swedes, who sought shelter as well as they could 
 behind the houses by the river. 
 
 " Holy Mary! a man falls! He rises no more!" 
 exclaimed Katchen, unable to conceal her com- 
 passion. 
 
 " Saint Francis be praised, there is one heretic 
 less in the world!" rejoined old Dorthe, Lady 
 Regina's duenna, who was appointed by Father 
 Hieronymus to watch all her steps. 
 
 " But it is terrible to shoot down a human 
 being! " 
 
 Count Fritz smiled. 
 
 " You should have seen the battle-field at 
 Breitenfeld! Nine thousand killed!" 
 
 " It is horrifying! " 
 
 " Can you tell me, count, who those horsemen 
 are, who, in the midst of the shower of balls, keep 
 by the bank, and seem to be examining the situa- 
 tion of the castle?" 
 
 "Pardon me, my beautiful cousin; the smoke 
 begins to obscure the view. Those horsemen . . 
 upon my honor, it is the king himself and the 
 Count Per Brahe. I pity them, if Father Hierony- 
 mus recognizes them. He would then direct all 
 the cannon of the castle toward this one point." 
 
 At these words, old Dorthe stole from the 
 room. 
 
 " How is that, my cousin ? You pity the heretic 
 prince?" *" 
 
 "Why do your eyes flash so darkly, beautiful 
 Regina,at these words? You, so noble and tender- 
 hearted, do you not understand that one can feel 
 compassion for a brave and chivalrous enemy? The 
 
THE KING'S RING. hi 
 
 king; of Sweden is a hero, worthy our admiration in 
 as high a degree as our hatred." 
 
 " I do not understand you. A heretic! " 
 
 "Heaven prevent you from one day seeing him 
 within these walls! you would then understand me 
 better. . . . Ha! they are preparing to storm the 
 bridge . . . they throw planks over the bare 
 arches. Heavens! that is daring! " 
 
 "There fell four at once!" screamed KStchen. 
 
 "I know them," exclaimed Count Fritz, more 
 and more excited by the tumult of strife and the 
 increasing cannonade, which caused the castle walls 
 to tremble. "I know them; they are the Scots. 
 There are no braver troops to be found in the 
 whole Swedish army; the Scots and the Finns are 
 always first where the danger is greatest." 
 
 "Ah, my cousin, do you see your Scots draw 
 back? They dare not take the dangerous leap." 
 
 " That requires more than human courage. 
 Twenty-four feet below the narrow plank roars 
 the flood." 
 
 "Two slender officers spring out on the plank." 
 
 " They are the brothers Ramsay, both quite 
 young. I know them by their blue scarfs. They 
 both love the same lady; and both wear her colors, 
 without therefore loving each other the less." 
 
 "O Heaven, protect them! . . . Ah, Holy 
 Mary, this is frightful! " And Kstchen hid her face 
 in her apron. The intrepid Scots had not reached 
 the middle of the plank before they were seen to 
 reel, lose their balance, and fall headlong into the 
 river. For a moment they strc^gled / with the 
 waves, but, pierced by the enemy's bullets, they 
 felt their strength fail them ; the heavy armor drew 
 them down. A second more, and these chivalric 
 youths disappeared beneath the surface. 
 
58 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 "You rejoiced a ■while ago at war," said Lady 
 Regina, with a calmness which was contradicted by 
 her loudly beating heart. 
 
 "Ah, yes, at the handsome cavaliers — at the 
 music and the banquets — but not at this!" ex- 
 claimed Katchen, weeping. 
 
 "The Soots turn back!" cried one of the 
 maidens. 
 
 " Yes," said the count, hesitatingly; "but the 
 Swedes are beginning to cross the river in boats." 
 
 " The Scots again try the planks." 
 
 "Just as I expected," answered the count, 
 coldly. 
 
 " Heaven help us! They come over; they take 
 their stand on this side. Our men attack them." 
 
 " Take care, Lady Begina, do not lean so far 
 out of the window. The Swedes direct their artil- 
 lery toward the turret." 
 
 "Are you afraid, count?" Regina smiled as 
 she uttered these words. 
 
 Lichtenstein colored. 
 
 " I believe I have sufficiently proven the con- 
 trary. Listen, and you will every other minute dis- 
 tinguish a whizzing, whose cause you do not know, 
 and a rattling, as of pebbles. I will tell you what 
 it is. It is cannon-balls, my lady; you would un- 
 derstand their music better did not the noise out 
 there deafen you. For the last half-hour they have 
 torn piece after piece from the walls of the turret, 
 and almost always at the same point. They are not 
 sugar-plums, m^ cousin. These Swedes have 
 learned their ai« from the wild huntsman himself." 
 
 " Do you actually believe ..." 
 
 "That the Swedes intend to shoot down this 
 turret, in order to fill the castle-moat with its ruins? 
 Yes, my cousin, and I believe they will succeed. 
 
THE KING'S RING. 59 
 
 You are not safe here for an instant; you must go 
 away." 
 
 " Directly, gracious count, directly! Come, my 
 lady," exclaimed Katchen, trying with friendly 
 force to take her young mistress with her. But 
 Regina was in an excited frame of mind. The 
 habit of commanding, and perhaps still more the 
 willfulness which lay at the bottom of this strangely 
 contradictory character, was blended with the burn- 
 ing fanaticism which the Jesuit had so well under- 
 stood how to inspire in her from childhood. . . . 
 She took a step back, seized the gilded image of the 
 Virgin, which Father Hieronymus had sent for her 
 protection, and placed it before her on the window- 
 sill. 
 
 "Go! " said she, "if you are so weak in the faith 
 as to doubt the protection of the saints. I remain 
 here, and the heretics' bullets will avail nothing 
 against ..." 
 
 Lady Regina had not time to finish the sentence 
 before a ball struck the wall at an oblique angle, 
 loosening a piece of the outer edge of the facing. 
 A shower of stones and mortar swept in through 
 the window, knocking down the image of the Vir- 
 gin, and covering Lady Regina with dust. 
 
 "Away from here! You now see for yourself ! " 
 exclaimed the count. 
 
 "Let us go! " repeated the maidens, beside them- 
 selves with terror. 
 
 But Regina, for a moment confused, regained 
 her self-possession immediatel'c.bent down to pick 
 up the image, and said confideOTly: 
 
 " They will avail nothing against the Holy 
 Virgin." 
 
 She was mistaken. The Holy Virgin of wood 
 had broken into three or four pieces. On the 
 
60 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 count's lips played a satirical smile of unbelief, as 
 he led his terror-stricken cousin unresistingly from 
 the dangerous room. 
 
 While these events were going on in the turret, 
 Keller had quickly and intelligently arranged the 
 castle's defense. He could not hinder the Swedes 
 from crossing the river, but every step nearer the 
 castle brought them also nearer his cannon. Ter- 
 ribly did they decimate the ranks of the brave as- 
 sailants. That whole day the Swedes could accom- 
 plish nothing. 
 
 Father Hieronymus and his monks moved 
 around on the walls, sprinkled the cannon with 
 holy water, and made the sign of the cross over 
 them. The old Dorthe had whispered something 
 in his ear, and the Jesuit's whole attention was 
 turned toward the spot where the two horsemen in 
 buff jackets had just been seen. The reverend 
 father now undertook himself to direct one of the 
 castle's heaviest cannon toward this point; but, be- 
 fore he fired it off, he fell on his knees and repeated 
 four pater nosters and four ave Marias. Then thun- 
 dered the discharge; but in vain did the Jesuit seek 
 to discover any effect from it. Unharmed, immov- 
 able as before, the figures of the two horsemen 
 were seen through the dissolving smoke. Hier- 
 onymus now supposed that four paters and four 
 aves were too little, and accordingly repeated eight 
 of each kind, after which he let the cannon thunder 
 for the second time. Impossible! The balls seemed 
 to avoid the chosen victims. Not yet had Provi- 
 dence appointed tSfustaf Adolf's death-hour; and 
 Per Brahe was to be spared for Finland. Who 
 can calculate what would have become of Sweden's 
 victories and Finland's civilization if the Jesuit's 
 murderous balls had hit their aim! 
 
THE KING'S RING. 61 
 
 Father Hieronymus raged. Once more he 
 determined to try his luck with twelve paters and 
 a«es, when some one touched him on the shoulder, 
 and behind him stood an old soldier, who, with 
 Count Lichtenstein, had returned from Swedish 
 captivity. 
 
 " Let it alone," said the old man, in a warning 
 tone; " it wastes our powder uselessly. The man 
 at whom you are aiming is not to be hit: he is in- 
 vulnerable." 
 
 The Jesuit's superstition was in such cases 
 greater than his craftiness. He turned round 
 basiily, and muttered under his breath: 
 
 " I ought to have guessed that. But how do 
 you know that he is invulnerable, my son?" added 
 he, raising his voice. 
 
 "I heard it in the Swedes' own camp. The 
 king wears on the forefinger of his right hand a 
 little ring of copper, scratched all over with magic 
 signs. He received it in his youth from a sorcer- 
 ess in Finland; and, so long as he wears this ring, 
 neither iron nor lead, neither fire nor water, has 
 any effect on him." 
 
 " Nothing affects him, you say? Oh, maledicti 
 Fennones! why do ye pursue me everywhere?" 
 
 " Neither iron nor lead," continued the soldier, 
 in a whisper; "but if I dared to disclose another 
 means . . " 
 
 "Speak, my son; you have absolution before- 
 hand." 
 
 " But, worthy father, it is a sinful means." 
 
 " For the welfare of the holy cause, all means 
 are sanctified. Speak out, my son." 
 
 " Gold from a saint's image . . " 
 
 " No, my son, no ; we certainly dare not em- 
 ploy that. Had it been a dagger of glass, a subtle 
 
62 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 poison, it might have been done; but gold from the 
 image of a saint — no, my son; let us think of iit 
 no more." 
 
 In the meantime, darkness had descended, and 
 the work of death for the day was over. The 
 tired warriors refreshed themselves with food and 
 drink, Keller dispensing noble wines to strengthen 
 their courage. 
 
 Lady Regina had descended into one of the 
 inner rooms of the castle; Count Fritz had retired 
 to rest. Soon was heard through the castle only 
 the call of the sentinels, mingled with the coarse 
 songs of drunken soldiers, and the sounds of the 
 banquet which Keller gave his officers in the large 
 armory. But in the magnificent chapel, where 
 uppermost on the altar stood the images of the 
 Virgin Mary and the Savior, of pure gold, sur- 
 rounded by images of the Apostles, in the finest 
 silver, the midnight mass was already over, and 
 the monks had one after one stolen away to rest, 
 or to the wine-cup. Only one solitary figure 
 was seen still kneeling at the altar; and the ever- 
 burning lamp cast its faint glimmer over the 
 deadly-pale features of the praying Jesuit. 
 
 "Holy Mary," prayed he, "forgive thy unworthy 
 servant for daring to stretch out his hand to pilfer 
 a scrap of thy golden mantle. Thou knowest, O 
 sanctissima! that it is done for a good and sacred 
 object, in order to destroy thy sworn enemy and 
 that of the holy church, the heretic prince whom 
 the heathen Finns, with their godless witchcraft, 
 have rendered impervious to the swords and bul- 
 lets of the true-believing Catholics. Grant that 
 this gold, which I, to thy honor, cut from thy 
 glorious mantle, may pierce the sinful heart of the 
 heretic king; and I promise thee, Holy Mary, to 
 
THE KING'S RING. 63 
 
 give thee, in place of what thou hast lost, a 
 costly robe of velvet and true pearls. Three 
 gilded candles shall also be kept burning night 
 and day before thy image. Amen.'''' 
 
 When Father Hieronymus had finished this 
 prayer, he looked up tremblingly; and it seemed to 
 him that the image, in the rays of the eternal 
 lamp, nodded its approval to his fanatical petition. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 LADY KEGIITA'S oath. 
 
 THE events last described were succeeded by 
 a hot and sanguinary day. The castle was 
 vigorously bombarded by the Swedes, who now 
 began to approach the walls under cover of skil- 
 fully-constructed earthworks. The Imperialists 
 defended themselves bravely. Time was precious 
 to both parties: in a few days more, Tilly would 
 stand at Gustaf Adolf's back, a probable disaster 
 to the Swedes, a sure deliverance for the be- 
 leagured. 
 
 Lady Regina and her maids were now confined 
 to the inner regions of the castle, and could no 
 longer enjoy their interesting view. There was all 
 the more to do inside. The number of the 
 wounded increased, and these had to be cared for. 
 The young girl went like an angel of mercy from 
 couch to couch in the armory, where the wounded 
 were now quartered; her gentle hand poured bal- 
 sam on their wounds, her mild words poured con- 
 solation into their hearts. She spoke of the holy 
 
64 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 cause for which they bled; she promised gold and 
 honor to those who survived, eternal salvation to 
 those who fell in the strife. 
 
 The cannonade was so heavy that the old walls 
 trembled. Regina remembered that she had left 
 her rosary up in the turret, and it was now needed 
 for the prayers of the wounded. She already 
 stood on the threshold of the armory, when a fear- 
 ful crash shook the castle to its very foundations. 
 Pale with terror, she stopped, and, at the same 
 instant, the Count of Lich ten stein rushed in. 
 
 " What has happened ? " asked the young 
 girl. 
 
 " Thank the saints, my lady, that you yesterday 
 obeyed a friend's advice. The turret has fallen." 
 
 " And w« are lost! " 
 
 " Not yet. The Swedes calculated that it 
 would fill the moat with its ruins, but it has fallen 
 inside. The enemy seem inclined to attempt a 
 storm. Come here to the window; this overlooks 
 the castle walls. Do you see? Father Hierony- 
 mus is on his knees by the large cannon. I 
 wager he has caught sight of the Swedish king." 
 
 The count had guessed rightly. The Jesuit's 
 falcon glance was steadily directed toward a single 
 point, and his thin lips mumbled with anxious 
 haste one prayer after another. His spying eyes 
 had discovered Gustaf Adolf on horseback, as 
 yesterday, at Per Brahe's side. The two riders 
 kept quite near the outworks; a pile of debris pro- 
 tected them from the musket shots, but was evi- 
 dently no shield against a ball from heavy artillery. 
 Father Hieronymus relied upon the massive lead 
 ball, into which, amidst fasting.,and vigils, he had 
 poured the gold from the Holy Virgin's mantle. 
 He bent down to aim the cannon; the pupils of his 
 
THE KING'S RING. 65 
 
 eyes contracted, his nostrils dilated, •while a stream 
 of Latin orisons continued to flow from his lips; 
 then he rose quickly, swung the burning linstock 
 in the form of a cross, and fired. 
 
 Flame and smoke burst from the mouth of the 
 cannon. Oh, revenge and fury! When the smoke 
 cleared away, the two horsemen, still unharmed, 
 were seen to ride a little aside. But this 
 time Gustaf Adolf had been near death; for the 
 ball struck the heap of rubbish and covered him 
 and Brahe with a cloud of dust. 
 
 Tired out and furious, the Jesuit hurried from 
 the wall. 
 
 "Wait, you King of Belial!" he muttered to 
 himself; " I will yet succeed in stealing the 
 ring which protects you, and then, woe be unto 
 you! " 
 
 The king now gave orders to storm the out- 
 works. Axel Lilje, Jacob Ramsay and Hamilton 
 hurried forward with their men. The difficulties 
 which they had to encounter were incredible. 
 They were obliged, under a shower of balls and 
 blows, to climb the precipitous rock, then to leap 
 over the moat, and finally scale the ramparts. 
 First of all, went the East Bothnians and the Scots, 
 unchecked, irresistible. The foremost were seen 
 to fall, with crushed heads; others, with their 
 swords between their teeth, immediately climbed 
 up the ramparts in their places. The king himself 
 rode as near as he could, in order to encourage his 
 men. A musket ball tore away a piece of his buif 
 gauntlet, without injuring him. The belief was 
 general that Gustaf Adolf was invulnerable. 
 
 At last, after two hours bloody strife, the Scots 
 and the Finns had decided the' struggle. The 
 important outworks were taken, and the defenders 
 E 3* 
 
66 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 drew back within the castle walls. It was then 
 about four o'clock in the afternoon. 
 
 After the advantage they had gained, the 
 Swedes took a few hours' rest. A council of war 
 was held, and it was decided that the following 
 morning at daybreak the famous yellow-and-blue 
 brigade should storm the castle. The East Both- 
 nians were selected by the king to head this peril- 
 ous undertaking; and the Scots, who had lost 
 many men, were this time to rest. Accounts add, 
 that the brave Hamilton regarded this tenderness 
 as involving such a disgrace that he requested a 
 discharge on the spot, and quit the army. 
 
 The situ_ation of the besieged was yet far from 
 desperate. They still had about a thousand able 
 men, whom, since the loss of the outworks, they 
 could the better concentrate upon a single point. 
 But they had lost belief in victory; and this loss 
 counted more than that of an outwork. In vain 
 did Keller try to exhort them to courage; in vain 
 did the monks go in procession around the walls, 
 with the golden image of the Virgin. When night 
 came, all was confusion; the soldiers no longer 
 obeyed orders, and a part of the most faint-hearted 
 discussed among themselves whether they ought 
 not to make use of the darkness, in order to escape 
 unseen. 
 
 At midnight Lady Regina was on her knees 
 before the altar in the chapel, praying with burn- 
 ing fervor to the image of the Virgin. 
 
 " Holy Mary," said she, " protect this castle, 
 protect thy Catholic faith, against the heretics! 
 And if it is thy will that this stronghold shall fall, 
 then let it bury under its ruins our enemies, who 
 are also thine; and first of all, the godless king, 
 their prince, as well as his heathen Finns, who 
 
THE KING'S RING. 67 
 
 to-day, and many times before, have fought most 
 bitterly against thy holy cause." 
 
 "Amen!" said a voice; and when she looked 
 around, Father Hieronymus stood behind her. His 
 bearing was darkly solemn, and a grim smile 
 played over his pale features. " Do you know 
 what you are praying for, my daughter?" 
 
 " Victory to the Catholic faith; death to the 
 heretics! " 
 
 " You are young, and the human mind changes. 
 Have you the strength to hate the enemies of your 
 faith, even if you ever, as a woman, felt tempted 
 to love one of them?" 
 
 " I have, my father; yes, most surely! " 
 
 " I am your confessor, and I would not see 
 your soul lost for all eternity. Have you courage 
 to sacrifice yourself for the holy cause, and tfiereby 
 gain an imperishable martyr-crown?" 
 
 " Yes, my father." 
 
 " Very well; then know that the castle can not 
 hold out. I foresee that it will, within a short 
 time, fall into Swedish hands. They will take you 
 prisoner. You are young and beautiful; you will 
 win the favor of the heretic king. You must avail 
 yourself of it to approach his person; he will not 
 distrust you, and when the Holy Virgin grants you 
 a good opportunity, you must . . ." The Jesuit 
 took out a crucifix of silver and pressing a spring 
 in the breast of the image, a flashing dagger sprang 
 out. 
 
 " Grace, my father; this charge is terrible! " 
 
 " No grace. The holy church demands a blind 
 obedience. Perinde, ac cadaver — like a dead 
 body — without will. Do you love the Mother of 
 God?" 
 
 " You know that I do." 
 
68 TIMES OF GUST A F ADOLF. 
 
 " Do you see this piece of her golden robe she 
 has lost during the night? It is a sign which por- 
 tends her anger. Do you love me also, my daugh- 
 ter?" 
 
 " I revere you more highly than any other, my 
 father." 
 
 " Then look at this mutilated head." So say- 
 ing, the Jesuit removed his black leather calotte, 
 and exposed the repulsive stumps of histvpo ampu- 
 tated ears. " Thus have the blasphemous king's 
 miscreants, the Finns, treated your friend, your 
 confessor. Do you still hesitate to avenge the 
 Mother of God, to avenge me?" 
 
 " What do you ask of me, my father? " 
 
 " Listen! The heretic king wears on his right 
 forefinger a little ring of copper; in it consists his 
 security against death and danger. This ring you 
 must gain possession of through artifice; and, if 
 you then feel your arm too weak, call upon me. 
 We will reach his heart, even were it coated with 
 a dragon's scales." 
 
 " If it is the will of the saints . . . so be 
 it." 
 
 " Lay two fingers on this crucifix, and repeat 
 the oath I dictate to you: 'I swear by this cross, 
 and by all the saints, to accomplish what I now 
 vow before the image of the Holy Virgin. And 
 if I ever break this oath, then may the curse rest 
 upon me and my posterity to the seventh genera- 
 tion.' " 
 
 " ' I swear by this cross, and by all the saints, 
 to accomplish what I now vow before the image 
 of the Holy Virgin. And if I ever break this 
 oath, then may the curse rest upon me and my 
 posterity to the seventh generation.' " 
 
THE KING'S RING. 69 
 
 '■'■Fiat voluntas tua, ut in ccelis, sic etiam in 
 terra. Amen! " * 
 
 And the night's silence sealed this dreadful 
 oath, which chained with copper fetters, the com- 
 ing generations to the wavering decision of a girl 
 of sixteen. 
 
 At the same hour of the night, the East Both- 
 nians, with the other troops chosen for the assault, 
 assembled in the lately- conquered outworks. 
 The wine-cup circled round, but this time very 
 moderately; for the king's vigilance permitted no 
 imprudence. A number of volunteers from 
 several regiments had asked and obtained leave to 
 take part in the adventurous expedition. AH were 
 in good spirits in the expectation of victory and 
 pillage. 
 
 Last among the volunteers appeared a tall, 
 fair-complexioned youth, of a cheerful and jovial 
 appearance. 
 
 "Thunder and lightning! is that you, Bertel?" 
 exclaimed a short and thick man. Lieutenant Lars- 
 son, of the East Bothnians. 
 
 " As you see," said the youth, shaking his hand 
 cordially. 
 
 " Well, I declare, the good boy wishes to season 
 his rlew lieutenant's commission ! It is not my 
 fault, my dear fellow, but may I be tossed by a 
 buffalo bull if there is a single drop left in the 
 flask. But tell me, what is the matter with you, 
 that you have changed your name, Bertel? What 
 sort of a mixture is it? neither Swedish nor Finn- 
 ish." 
 
 "It was done at Breitenfeld," said Bertel, color- 
 ing slightly. " My comrades have long called me 
 so, and ... it is shorter." 
 
 * Thy win be done on earth, as It Is In heaven. 
 
70 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 " Nonsense! I hope you don't feel too good to 
 bear a peasant's name, now that you have become 
 an officer? " 
 
 " Have the lots already been cast? " rejoined 
 the youth, without answering the other's ques- 
 tion. 
 
 " You came just in time to try your luck." 
 
 The younger officers, all of whom sought the 
 honor of commanding the first dangerous recon- 
 noissance, had determined to draw lots, as the 
 difficulty could not be settled in any other way. 
 The lots were shaken up in a helmet; fourteen 
 hands were stretched out to seize the slips, and the 
 lucky'one who read his name on the slip was 
 Bertel. 
 
 "Look out for yourself, my boy," cried thg 
 little Larsson. " Thunder and lightning! remem- 
 ber that the castle is full of Jesuits. At every 
 step a trap-door under your feet, in every crucifix 
 a dagger, and even in the moment of victory, a 
 mine which blows the conqueror into the air." 
 
 It was after four o'clock in the morning, and 
 they had yet a half hour before dawn. Bertel, 
 with seven men under his command, was ordered 
 to reconnoitre the fort, approaching it as near as 
 possible. In the meantime, the troops held them- 
 selves in the captured outworks, ready for the first 
 signal. 
 
 The night was coal black. Bertel and his men 
 approached the drawbridge with cautious steps, 
 and without being observed by the sentinels. Who 
 can picture his astonishment when he found it 
 down ! * 
 
 He stopped for an instant, doubtful and un- 
 
 ♦ Some authors assert that the drawbridge could not be drawn up, on 
 account of the weight of the many dead bodies left there after the strife. 
 
THE KING'S RING. 71 
 
 decided, recollecting Larsson's words. Could this 
 be a snare? 
 
 All was still. Bertel and his men advanced, 
 boldly but slowly and cautiously over the bridge. 
 
 "Who goes there?" thundered an Imperial 
 sentinel, in the darkness. 
 
 "Swede!" cried Bertel, cleaving with one 
 blow the man's skull. "Comrades, the castle is 
 taken!" And the seven pushed on resolutely in 
 his footsteps. 
 
 Inside the drawbridge stood two hundred Im- 
 perialists on guard. Appalled and dumbfounded, 
 they believed that the whole Swedish force were 
 stqrming in over the drawbridge. They hastened 
 to regain the sally-port; but the bold lieutenant 
 and his seven men stood th^ir ground. To Ber- 
 tel's good fortune, the darkness in the arched gate- 
 way was impenetrable; no one could distinguish 
 either friend or enemy, and the Imperialists struck 
 their own men as often as the foe. The press soon 
 became so great that no sword could be raised to 
 strike, and the rash assailants narrowly escaped 
 being jammed to death against the walls by the 
 rushing mass of mail-clad men. 
 
 Bertel's cry and the tumult of strife had been 
 heard in good time by those in the outworks. The 
 whole Swedish force now stormed against the 
 fortress. Keller, with his followers, seized their 
 weapons, and hastened out to defend the entrance; 
 but the Finns had got breathing space, and 
 pressed forward: in a short time they stood inside 
 the castle yard. Keller and his men fought with 
 the courage of despair: many valiant Swedes and 
 Finns fell in the very moment of victory. Their 
 fall incited their countrymen to re-venge. They 
 began to cry, '■'■ Magdehurger pardon y" and this 
 
73 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 cry meant death without mercy to all Imperialists. 
 The carnage became fearful. Many monks threw 
 themselves fanatically into the strife, some with 
 torches, some with sword in hand. Most of them 
 were hewn down; others cast themselves on the 
 ground, feigning death. Day began to davyn over 
 the sanguinary scene. 
 
 Then Lennart Torstenson started forward, 
 seized the madly-struggling Keller around the 
 waist, and took him prisoner, thus saving him from 
 the fury of the soldiers. The Imperialists, or the 
 few of them who yet lived, laid down their arms, 
 and the castle was taken. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 JUDITH AND HOLOFBRNES. 
 
 AS the first rays of the sun shimmered on the 
 waves of the river Main, Castle Marienburg 
 was in the possession of the Swedes. The king 
 rode into the court-yard, which was covered with 
 his fallen enemies; more than twenty monks were 
 counted among the dead. But some of these 
 seemed to the king to have altogether too bloom- 
 ing cheeks to resemble corpses. " Stand up! " said 
 he to them; "you shall suifer no harm." And 
 immediately many of the pretended dead sprang 
 up, sound and well, on their two feet, and bowed, 
 full of joy and gratitude, to the magnanimous 
 heretic prince. 
 
 As the castle was taken by storm, the soldiers 
 were allowed to plunder. Grand was the booty of 
 
THE KING'S RING. 73 
 
 silver and gold, weapons, and all sorts of precious 
 things. The king reserved to himself the armory, 
 with complete equipments for seven thousand 
 infantry and four thousand cavalry, forty-eight 
 cannon, four mortars, the stables with the choicest 
 horses, and the wine-cellar, filled with the purest 
 wines. The library was taken as a donation to the 
 Upsala University; the sacred images of gold and 
 silver found their way to the treasury. Notwith- 
 standing that many of the residents of the town 
 recovered the property they had brought there, 
 the soldiers' booty was so great that, at the 
 division, they measured the clinking coin with full 
 helmets. Finally, Keller was obliged to disclose 
 the vault, which, cut in the rock itself, deep below 
 the cellar, preserved the bishop's treasure. 
 Fryxell relates, that, when the soldiers carried up 
 the heavy chests, the bottom of one fell out, and a 
 quantity of shining ducats rolled out on the 
 ground. The men threw themselves down to pick 
 them up, leaving some to the king, for decency's 
 sake, but stuffing the most part into their own 
 pockets. Gustaf Adolf noticed this, and said, 
 laughing: 
 
 "Never mind, boys; as it has once fallen into 
 your hands, you may as well keep it." 
 
 After that day, scarcely a soldier was to be 
 found in the whole Swedish army who did not 
 have a new suit of clothes. In the camp a cow 
 was sold for a dollar, a sheep for a few pennies; 
 and the learned Salvius writes: " Our Finnish 
 boys, who are now accustomed to the vineyards 
 down there, are not likely to come back to Savolax 
 very soon. In the Livonian war, they were often 
 obliged to put up with ale-soup made of water 
 4 
 
74 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 and mouldy bread; now, the Finn makes it in his 
 helmet, with wine and cakes." 
 
 Among the prisoners were the Count of Lich- 
 tenstein and Lady Regina. The king commanded 
 that both should be treated with chivalrous 
 courtesy. To the young lady he offered safe- 
 conduct to the bishop, her uncle. Regina declined 
 this offer, on account of the insecurity of the 
 times, and begged as a favor to be allowed to 
 remain under the king's protection for the present. 
 Gustaf Adolf consented. 
 
 " I do it unwillingly," said he, smiling, to the 
 Margrave of Baden Durlach, who rode by his side. 
 "Young girls are a superfluity in the field, and 
 confuse the heads of my young officers. How- 
 ever, she can go with me to Frankfort, as a host- 
 age, to bind the bishop's hands." 
 
 "Your majesty knows how to capture all 
 through your magnanimity," replied the Margrave, 
 with a courtier's politeness. 
 
 " Lieutenant Bertel," added the king, as he 
 turned to the officer who, close behind him, com- 
 manded a troop of Finnish cavalry, " I confide 
 Lady von Erameritz to your protection. She has 
 permission to take with her an old woman attend- 
 ant, one maiden, and her father confessor. See to 
 it that you do not fall in love, lieutenant; and, 
 above all, give close heed to the mcnk: that sort 
 are not to be trusted." 
 
 Bertel silently saluted with his sword. 
 
 "One thing more," continued the king. "I 
 have not forgotten that you were the first who 
 pressed through the sally-port. After you have 
 placed the young girl in safety, you can commence 
 service in my body guard. Have you understood 
 me?" 
 
THE KING'S RING. 75 
 
 " Yes, your majesty." 
 
 " Good; " and the king again turned to the 
 Margrave, as he merrily added: " Believe me, it 
 vrould have been risky to intrust the beautiful 
 black-eyed girl to oiie of my warm-blooded 
 Swedes. The boy there is a Finn; they are the 
 most phlegmatic people I know of; they are bad 
 love-makers; it takes them a year to get on fire; 
 one girl can put twenty of them to flight in a ball- 
 room; but if it is a question of grappling with 
 Pappenheim, then your grace knows what they are 
 capable of." 
 
 Far into the autumn, Gustaf Adolf flew from 
 victory to victory. Tilly, who had come too late 
 to save Wiirtzburg, did not dare attack him, and, 
 irritated by ill-luck and constant small defeats, 
 turned back to the Bavarian frontier. Gustaf 
 Adolf marched along the Main, entered Aschaffen- 
 burg, and compelled the cautious city of Frank- 
 fort to open its gates. On the 6th of December, he 
 forced a passage across the Rhine at Oppenheim, 
 and on the 9th took possession of Mayence, which 
 the Spaniard De Sylva defiantly promised to 
 defend against three kings of Sweden. The 
 Swedish arms had now gained the ascendency over 
 the whole north and west of Germany, and the 
 conqueror chose as his winter quarters Frank fort- 
 on-the-Main. Here a brilliant court gathered 
 around the hero; it was here that flattery hastened 
 to adorn his head with the German Imperial 
 crown; it was here that Maria Eleonora hastened 
 on the wings of longing to embrace her consort; 
 in Hanau, where the king had ridden to meet her, 
 she clasped him in her arms, as she exclaimed: 
 " Now, at last, is the great Gustaf Adolf cap- 
 tured! " 
 
76 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 One day, at the end of December, 1631, the 
 king gave a large banquet in Frankfort, in honor 
 of the queen's arrival. Immense throngs pressed 
 outside the castle, whose high Gothic windows at 
 night diffused a radiance 'like that of day. Ale 
 and wine ran continually from large casks, for the 
 regalement of the people; around the spigots 
 workmen and soldiers jostled each other, holding 
 out tankards and cups, which, quickly filled, were 
 as quickly emptied again. The good citizens of 
 Frankfort were beside themselves with admiration 
 of the great king. Gossip of his justice and 
 clemency was freely circulated: now he had had- a 
 soldier hung for stealing a burgher's hen; now 
 he had stopped in the street and spoken familiarly 
 with those he met. They imagined that they saw 
 his shadow pass by the small window-panes, and 
 wondered whether the German crown would not 
 be placed upon the mighty brow that very even- 
 ing. 
 
 In the halls of the castle a princely magnifi- 
 cence prevailed. Gustaf Adolf knew his consort's 
 weakness for outward grandeur, and probably 
 wished also to produce an imposing effect upon 
 the assembled German nobility. The floor was 
 covered with rich Flemish carpets; over the win- 
 dows hung drapery of purple satin, with tassels of 
 gold; and costly chandeliers, heavy with a thousand 
 wax-lights, were suspended from the ceiling, decor- 
 ated with arabesques. They had just finished one 
 of those measured and stately Spanish dances at 
 that time in vogue, in which the heavy-footed 
 northerner tried in vain to compete with the Ger- 
 man and French nobility. The king had offered 
 his arm to his wife, and was promenading the bril- 
 liant rooms with her. His tall and portly figure, 
 
THE KING'S RING. , 77 
 
 with the simple dignity which at once inspired 
 reverence and love, seemed even more tall and 
 manly by the side of the slender and delicate 
 queen, who, with sincere devotion, leaned upon his 
 arm. Maria Eleonora was at that time thirty-two 
 years of age, and had retained a great part of the 
 beauty which in her first youth had gained her so 
 many admirers. Upon her black hair, arranged in 
 short curls around the snow-white temples, flashed 
 a diadem of immense value, just presented to her 
 by the king; her expressive blue eyes rested with 
 indescribable affection upon her roj-al escort; she 
 seemed to forget herself, to enjoy only the admira- 
 tion which surrounded her husband. In the train 
 of the royal pair, followed a numerous throng of all 
 the illustrious personages which Protestant Ger- 
 many at that time could boast. One saw there 
 the deposed King Frederick of Bohemia, the Dukes 
 of Weimar and Wiirtemberg, the Landgraves of 
 Hesse, the Margrave of Baden Durlach, the Counts 
 of Wetterau, as well as other distinguished cheva- 
 liers. Not less than twelve ambassadors from for- 
 eign courts had assembled there around the hero 
 feared by all Europe. Of the king's own people, 
 Tott, Ban^r, and Gustaf Horn were elsewhere oc- 
 cupied with affairs of war; but there at Gustaf 
 AdolPs side, great as he in stature as in intellect, 
 was the gifted Oxenstjerna; and behind him, the 
 man with the bloodless and insignificant aspect, and 
 the calm, penetrating, and commanding glance, 
 Lennart Torstenson, as well as the proud Finn, 
 Wittenberg, then lieutenant colonel. Many of the 
 Swedish and almost all the Finnish generals — Stal- 
 handske, Ruuth, Forbus, and others — did not thrive 
 well in the stiffness of the royal halls, among this 
 haughty nobility, whose court ceremonials appeared 
 
78 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 to the stern warriors unendurably tedious; they 
 therefore had -withdrawn in good time to one of the 
 smaller rooms, where pages, in gold-embroidered 
 velvet suits, poured the choicest Rhine wines 
 freely into silver goblets. 
 
 Among this brilliant assemblage must be men- 
 tioned the members of the common council of the 
 city of Frankfort, and many of the most prominent 
 citizens, with their wives and daughters, as well as 
 a large number of ladies, from the high-born 
 duchess down to the scarcely less proud coun- 
 cillor's wife. Yes, one saw there even a small 
 number of Catholic prelates, easily recognizable 
 by their bald heads: for the king wished to pro- 
 claim religious freedom by word and deed; and the 
 prelates, although in their hearts cursing the mean 
 rdle they played there, when once invited did not 
 dare to remain away. 
 
 Doubly gorgeous became this scene through a 
 magnificence, a luxury of attire, of which one now- 
 a-days can scarcely form a conception. The king 
 himself wore a simple tight-fitting suit of black 
 velvet stitched with silver, a short Spanish cape of 
 white satin embroidered by the queen's own hand, 
 short top-boots of yellow leather, and the well- 
 known broad lace collar which one sees in all his 
 portraits, together with the close cut hair and long 
 goatee. The luxury-loving queen wore a richly 
 jeweled dress of silver brocade with a short waist 
 and half-sleeves; even the little white satin slip- 
 pers glittered with brilliants. The ladies of the 
 higher aristocracy and the rich burgher wives vied 
 among themselves and with the queen in display. 
 Here were seen both silver and gold fabrics, velvet, 
 satin, and costly Brabant laces; especially had the 
 good dames an inexplicable taste in decking them- 
 
THE KI-NG'S RING. 79 
 
 selves with bright ribbons in all possible colors, 
 buckles, rosettes, and long sashes, which, fluttering 
 in the current of air, gave everything an aspect of 
 gaiety. Princes and chevaliers, some in the loose 
 German costume, others in the closer-fitting Span- 
 ish, with their plumed hats under their arms, and 
 the attendant pages in velvet and silver, completed 
 this bright picture of a time when uniforms were 
 not yet known. 
 
 Wherever the king went, flattery and admiration 
 offered their incense. 
 
 " Sire," said the insinuating King of Bohemia to 
 him, "your majesty can only be compared to Alex- 
 ander of Macedon." 
 
 "My cousin," answered Gustaf Adolf, smiling, 
 "you do not mean to liken the good city of Frank- 
 fort to Babylon?" 
 
 "No, sire," joined in the French ambassador, 
 Brezd, who walked by their side; "his Bohemian 
 majesty only wishes to liken the Rhine to Grani- 
 cus, and hopes that the new Alexander's Hyphasis 
 may lie beyond the frontiers of Bohemia." 
 
 "Confess, Count Brez6," said the king, changing 
 the subject, "that our northern and your French 
 beauties have to-day been vanquished by a Ger- 
 man." 
 
 "Sire, I share your opinion, that her majesty 
 the queen, in order to vanquish, does not need the 
 enviable place at your side," responded the polite 
 Frenchman. 
 
 " My consort will be grateful for your compli- 
 ment. Sir Ambassador; but she yields to Lady 
 von Emmeritz the preference which belongs to 
 youth." 
 
 " Your majesty over-flatters our national pride," 
 said the Duke of Wiirtemburg, with a bow. 
 
80 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 " Beauty is cosmopolitan, your grace. It was 
 in truth a precious spoil my warriors took at 
 Wiirtzburg." 
 
 The king thereupon approached Lady Regina, 
 whose radiant beauty was enhanced by a tightly- 
 fitting robe of black velvet, strewn with stars of 
 pale silver. 
 
 " My lady," said he, courteously, " I should 
 count myself happy if the mourning attire you 
 wear covered a heart which was able to forget all 
 sad memories, and to live in the hope of a happier 
 time, when war and feuds shall no longer frighten 
 the color from your beautiful cheeks. Believe me, 
 my lady, that time will come; I, no less than you, 
 desire it with all my heart; and let this hope call 
 joy to your lips, where it ought always to dwell." 
 
 "At your majesty's side, one forgets every- 
 thing," replied Regina,^ as she respectfully rose 
 from the high purple-covered arm-chair. But her 
 cheeks paled still more at these words, and be- 
 trayed too vivid a recollection of the past and of 
 her present captivity. 
 
 " Are you not well, rny lady? " 
 
 " Perfectly well, your majesty." 
 
 " You have perhaps something to complain of ? 
 Confide in me . . . as in a friend." 
 
 "Your majesty is very good. ..." 
 
 Regina struggled with herself. Finally she 
 added, with downcast eyes, " Your majesty's kind- 
 ness leaves me nothing to desire." 
 
 " We shall see each other again." And the 
 king continued his promenade through the hall. 
 
 Lady Regina drew back into the deep window- 
 niche of an adjoining room, and burst into tears. 
 " Holy Virgin," prayed she, " forgive me that my 
 heart does not belong to thee alone! Thou, who 
 
THE KING'S RING. 81 
 
 seest my inmost thoughts, thou knowest that I 
 have not the strength to hate this heretic king as 
 thou demandest of rae. He is so great, so beauti- 
 ful! Woe unto me that 1 tremble at the thought 
 of the holy work thou hast laid upon me! " 
 
 " Courage, my daughter! " whispered a voice 
 quite near, and Regina's evil demon, the pale Jes- 
 uit, stood behind her. " The moment approaches," 
 continued he, in a low tone. "The godless prince 
 is captivated by your beauty; rejoice, my child; 
 the Holy Virgin has doomed him to destruction. 
 This night shall he die." 
 
 " O my father, my father! what do you ask of 
 me?" 
 
 " Listen to me, my daughter. When Holofer- 
 nes, the Assyrian chief, laid siege to Bethulia, 
 there was a widow, Judith, the daughter of Merari, 
 beautiful as you, my child., and as pious. She 
 fasted three days, then went out and found favor 
 in the eyes of the enemy of her people and her 
 faith; and the saints gave his life into her hands. 
 She drew his sword, cut off his head, and delivered 
 her people." 
 
 " Grace, my father! " 
 
 " For this deed, great glory was accounted her, 
 and eternal salvation, and her name became men- 
 tioned among the greatest in Israel. So shall they 
 one day mention your name, my daughter, among 
 the blessed saints of the Catholic Church. Know 
 that last night the holy Saint Franciscus appeared 
 at my couch and said: 'The hour has come: go, 
 say to Judith that I will give the head of Holo- 
 femes into her hands.' " 
 
 " What shall I do, my father? " 
 
 " Mark well how you should act. This very 
 F 
 
83 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 evening you must request of the king a secret 
 meeting." 
 
 " Impossible! " 
 
 "You will reveal to him a fictitious plot against 
 his life. He will listen to you. You will entice 
 the ring from him. Once in possession of it, I 
 will be ready to assist you. But if he refuses you 
 the ring, then . . . take this paper; it contains 
 an irremediable poison; Saint Franciscus himself 
 gave it to me. You shall mix it in the beverage 
 which the king drinks at night. . . ." 
 
 Lady Regina took the dangerous paper, leaned 
 her head against the window-frame, and scarcely 
 seemed to hear the Jesuit's foreboding words. An 
 entirely new thought had seized this ardent soul, 
 and was working itself to clearness. The Jesuit, 
 however, misunderstood her; he supposed that her 
 silence proceeded from submission to his despot- 
 ism, from fanatic ecstacy over the martyr-crown he 
 held up to her. 
 
 "Have you understood me, my daughter?" 
 asked he. 
 
 " Yes, my father." 
 
 " You will then this evening ask the king for a 
 private audience? You will . . ." 
 
 " Yes, my father." 
 
 " Benedicta, ter benedicta, thou thrice-blessed 
 chosen instrument, go to thy heavenly glory! " 
 And the Jesuit disappeared in the throng. 
 
 The large clock in the coronation chamber 
 pointed to the hour of midnight. By means of 
 an ingenious mechanism, invented by a Nurem- 
 berger, two immense tables, set with elegant silver 
 service, rolled out from an adjoining room at the 
 twelfth stroke, and stood at once, as if risen from 
 the floor, in the centre of the hall. Upon a sign 
 
THE KING'S RING. 83 
 
 from the master of ceremonies, the king and queen 
 placed themselves before two purple chairs at the 
 middle of the upper table; and all the guests took 
 their places in rows according to rank and dignity, 
 around the festive board. One of the prelates 
 present said grace in a loud voice, after which the 
 king himself recited a short psalm, and the rest 
 joined in with familiar voices. All now seated 
 themselves, with considerable bustle, and did not 
 allow themselves to be incommoded by much fur- 
 ther ceremony. The dishes were both numerous 
 and substantial. Richelieu had sent Gustaf Adolf 
 a French cook; but the king, who indulged little in 
 high living, employed the fine Frenchman only for 
 ornamental dishes, on such occasions as this; nor 
 did he, perhaps, trust fully the cardinal's gift, as it 
 was said that Richelieu's dinners were scarely less 
 dangerous than those of the famous Borgias. Be- 
 sides, the cooking of the Netherlands and of Ger- 
 many was at that time in higher favor than that of 
 the French. The chief ornaments of the table at 
 this banquet were a wild boar roasted whole, em- 
 bellished with flowers and laurel leaves; and a piece 
 of pastry, presented by the Frankfort bakers, repre- 
 senting the triumphal march of a Roman emperor. 
 The guests fancied that they recognized, in this six- 
 inch victor of dough, the features of Gustaf Adolf; 
 and many jesting words passed from one to an- 
 other, as they pretended to discover resemblances 
 between their neighbors and the doughty Roman 
 warriors. 
 
 The queen, whose delicate hand was first to 
 break this masterpiece of the baker's art, smilingly 
 transferred to her silver plate one of the last 
 slaves in the triumphal procession; but the king, 
 who was above superstition, and generally blessed 
 
84 TIMES OF GUSTAR ADOLF. 
 
 with a good appetite, when he had time to gratify 
 it, seized the great pastry hero rather ungently 
 with his warrior hand, and placed a considerable 
 portion of it on his own plate. In the meanwhile, 
 the silver goblets were filled with the choicest 
 Rhine and Spanish wines; the king quietly drank to 
 the queen, and all the guests followed his example. 
 The retainers and pages, who stood in glittering 
 rows, one behind each chair at the upper table, 
 while at the lower table one stood behind every 
 other chair, refilled the empty goblets; the king 
 drank to the prosperity of the city of Frankfort, and 
 then rose hastily, offered the queen his arm, and 
 repaired to his own apartments. Gustaf Adolf's 
 mode of life was frugal, as behooved a warrior; his 
 meals were usually despatched quickly, although 
 on more joyful occasions, when time permitted, he 
 was easily prevailed upon to linger an hour at the 
 table. Still, he did not require that all should 
 follow his habits, and, when he himself departed, 
 delegated the office of host to one of those nearest 
 him. 
 
 This time it was the jovial old Scot, Patrick 
 Ruthven, who received this trust; and he dis- 
 charged it with tried ability. Oxenstjerna had left 
 the room at the-king's side. The ladies also rose 
 and left the hall; but the male guests remained 
 sitting, regaling themselves with the wine-cup, and 
 with the nuts, passed around in silver bowls, 
 among which were a number of stone nuts, painted 
 so skillfully that they could not immediately be 
 distinguished from the real. From the witticisms 
 which these suggested, arose the saying, " a hard 
 nut to crack." For the rest, the heroes of the 
 Thirty Years War were pretty hard drinkers; to 
 
THE KING'S RING. 85 
 
 empty a full beaker of Rhine wine at a draught, 
 upon their knightly oath, was for them an ordinary 
 matter. But they did not carry their drinking to 
 the same wild excess here as at many private 
 drinking-matches: they knew the king's stern 
 principles, and did not dare to see the bottom of 
 the cup too often. Still, they sat there far into 
 the night; and some of the officers treated each 
 other to a delicacy, hitherto quite scarce, but then 
 imported from the Netherlands: a black, stringy 
 substance, which was carried in boxes, and circu- 
 lated from man to man, so that each one had a 
 morsel, which some, with grimaces, spat out again, 
 and others kept in their mouths with evident sat- 
 isfaction. This substance was, as the reader has 
 probably guessed, tobacco. 
 
 While the carousal in the hall continued, the 
 queen, attended by her maids of honor, had retired 
 to rest; but the king conversed a while longer 
 confidentially with Axel Oxenstjerna. What these 
 two powerful men, the general and the statesman, 
 talked about, can rather be conjectured than re- 
 lated. Perhaps it was Sweden's poverty, the re- 
 sources of the emperor, and of God, still greater; 
 the victory of the right, the Roman Imperial 
 crown, and a future German Protestant empire. 
 No one knows with certainty, for after the king's 
 death his confidence went with Oxenstjerna to the 
 grave. 
 
 It was now very late, and Oxenstjerna was on 
 the point of retiring, when the officer on guard, 
 Bertel, announced that a veiled lady persistently 
 demanded an audience with the king. This unu- 
 sual request, at such an hour, astonished both 
 Gustaf Adolf and his companion; but, supposing 
 some important reason under so secret a visit, the 
 
86 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 king commanded Bertel to usher in the stranger, 
 and requested Oxenstjerna to remain. 
 
 Bertel went out, and returned in a moment 
 with a tall and slender lady dressed in black and 
 closely veiled. She seemed frightened, and sur- 
 prised not to find the king alone; no word passed 
 her lips. 
 
 "Madam," said the king, rather brusquely, — 
 for he was but little pleased at this nocturnal visit, 
 which, if it became known, might excite gossip 
 among the courtiers, and perhaps cause jealousy in 
 his sensitive wife—" madam, a call at this time 
 must have a weighty cause, and I desire in the first 
 place to know who you are." 
 
 The veiled lady made no reply. The king 
 thought that he guessed the reason of her silence, 
 and continued, pointing to his neighbor: 
 
 " This is Chancellor Oxenstjerna, my friend; 
 and from him I have no secrets." 
 
 The lady in black threw herself at the king's 
 feet, and raised her veil. The king started as he 
 recognized Lady Regina von Emmeritz, whose 
 dark eyes flashed with ecstatic fire, while a marble 
 paleness overspread her delicate and transparent 
 features. 
 
 " Stand up, my lady," said Gustaf Adolf, 
 gently, as he reached the kneeling woman his 
 hand and raised her. " Why do you come to me 
 at this hour? Speak, I beg of you! Reveal with- 
 out fear that which oppresses your heart, as I have 
 already asked you to do." 
 
 Regina breathed deeply, and began in a voice 
 which, at first scarcely audible, soon, through her 
 burning enthusiasm, became clear and strong. 
 
 "Your majesty, I come to you because you 
 asked me to. I come to you because I have hated 
 
THE KING'S RING. 87 
 
 you, sire; because I have for a long time prayed 
 daily to the Holy Virgin that she might destroy you 
 and your whole army. Your majesty, I am a weak 
 girl, but a faithful Catholic. You have persecuted 
 our Church, you have allowed our ' cloisters to be 
 plundered, expelled our holy fathers, and melted 
 the images of the saints; you have slain our troops, 
 and done our cause irreparable harm. Therefore I 
 have sworn with a sacred oath to destroy you; and 
 in reliance upon the Holy Virgin's help, I have fol- 
 lowed you from Wurtzburg with the design of 
 killing you." 
 
 The king exchanged a glance with Oxenstjerna, 
 which expressed a doubt of the fanatical girl's 
 sanity. Regina noticed this, and continued with a 
 firmer bearing: 
 
 " Sire, you believe me insane, because I say 
 such things to you, the conqueror of Germany. 
 But hear me to the end! When I saw you for the 
 first time in Wurtzburg Castle, and witnessed the 
 humane mildness with which you protected the 
 weak and granted life to your subjugated enemies, 
 then I said to myself : It is the evil power which 
 simulates the mercy of Heaven. But when, I fol- 
 lowed you here, and, close by you, saw your great- 
 ness as an individual, and added it to your great- 
 ness as a hero . . . sire, then my resolution 
 wavered, my hatred began to abate; I struggled 
 with myself, and this evening your kindness has 
 overcome my before unalterable purpose. Sire, I 
 now love you, as I have hitherto hated you . . . 
 I admire you, revere you ..." 
 
 And the beautiful girl cast down her eyes to the 
 floor. 
 
 "Well, then?" said the king, hesitatingly, and 
 with some emotion. 
 
88 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 " Your majesty, I have made this confession be- 
 cause you are sufficiently noble and high-tninded 
 not to misunderstand me. But I have not come to 
 you at such an hour merely to disclose the feelings 
 of an unhappy girl. I have come here to save 
 you, sire ..." 
 
 " Explain yourself ! " 
 
 " Hear me, your majesty! I am disarmed, but 
 others, who are more dangerous, remain. Six 
 Jesuits in Augsburg have sviforn to kill you . . . 
 Oh, you know not of what these men are capable! 
 They have drawn lots for your life, and the most 
 dangerous among them steals around your person 
 every day. Your majesty cannot escape them. 
 Some day — perhaps to-morrow — you will be 
 reached by the dagger or by poison. Your death 
 is certain." 
 
 "My lif# is in God's hands, and not in those 
 of a miserable secret assassin," answered Gustaf 
 Adolf, calmly. " The evil have not power propor- 
 tioned to their will. Be not alarmed, I^ady von 
 Emmeritz; 1 fear them not." 
 
 " Nay, sire, the saints have decreed your death. 
 I know you trust in this nng," — Regina seized the 
 king's hand, — " but it will not help you. Sire, I 
 tell you that your death is sure; and I have not 
 come here to save your life, and thus betray the 
 cause of our holy Church." 
 
 "And wherefore, my lady, do you now stand 
 here?" 
 
 Regina again threw herself devotedly at the 
 king's feet. 
 
 " Sire, I have come to save your soul. I cannot 
 endure the thought that a hero like you, so noble, 
 so great, shall be lost for all eternity. Hear me, I 
 entreat! I conjure your majesty, by your hope of 
 
THE KING'S SING. 89 
 
 salvation, not to persist in your heretic belief, the 
 fruit of which is damnation, when you have certain 
 death before your eyes. Be persuaded! turn while 
 it is yet time; turn to the only saving Catholic 
 Church; abjure your heretic faith; go to the holy 
 father in Rome, confess your sins to him, and use 
 your victorious arms in the service of the Church, 
 instead of employing them to her ruin. She will 
 receive you with open arms, and then, whether your 
 majesty lives or dies, you will always be sure of a 
 place among the chosen saints in heaven." 
 
 The king for a second time lifted up the excited 
 girl, looked steadily and calmly into her flashing 
 eyes, and answered seriously: 
 
 " When I was young, like you. Lady von 
 Emmeritz, my teacher, the old Skytte, brought me 
 up in the same burning zeal for the evangelical 
 doctrines which you now entertain for the Catho- 
 lic. I hated the pope, at that time, with all my 
 soul, as you now hate Luther: and I prayed God 
 that the day might come when I could dethrone 
 Antichrist, and convert all his followers to the 
 true faith. Since then I have not changed my 
 conviction, but I have learned that the ways are 
 many, if the spirit is one. T stand firm by the 
 evangelical faith I profess, for which I am pre- 
 pared to die on the field, if God so wills. But I 
 respect a Christian's belief, even if it differs in 
 some points from mine; and I know that God's 
 mercy is able to bring a heart to salvation, 
 although the way may be beset with error and 
 danger. Go, Lady von Emmeritz ; I forgive you 
 that, deluded by the monks' fanatical teachings, 
 you have tried to turn the Lord's champion from 
 his struggle for the light. Go, poor child, and let 
 God's word and your own experience teach you 
 4* 
 
90 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 not to place reliance upon the saints, who are 
 nothing else but sinners like ourselves, or upon 
 images and rings, which are not able to avert 
 the judgment of the Supreme. I thank you; for 
 you have meant well, although in childish ignor- 
 ance. Be not concerned for my life; it is in the 
 hands of One who knows to what end He wishes 
 to use me." 
 
 King Gustaf Adolf was grand as he uttered 
 these words. 
 
 Lady Regina wa« at once depressed and ele- 
 vated by the king's sublime tolerance. She per- 
 haps remembered his answer to the citizens of 
 Frankfort, when they asked to be allowed to 
 remain neutral: "Neutrality is a word which I 
 cannot possibly endure, least of all in the strife 
 between light and darkness, between freedom and 
 slavery." Educated in hatred of a different faith, 
 she could not comprehend how it was possible that 
 the same sword which destroyed the worldly 
 supremacy of the Church, mercifully lowered its 
 point before its spiritual power over the heart and 
 conscience. 
 
 The impassioned girl raised her tearful eyes to 
 the king; then her cheeks paled which had so 
 lately burned with the flush of enthusiasm, and 
 she stared with horror at the scarlet hangings of 
 the king's bed. 
 
 Oxenstjerna, who, more suspicious than Gustaf 
 Adolf, had constantly, with watchful eyes, fol- 
 lowed the strange girl's motions, immediately per- 
 ceived her frightened glance. 
 
 " Your majesty," said he, in Swedish, to the 
 king, " be on your guard; there are owls in the 
 swamp." 
 
 And without awaiting an answer, he drew his. 
 
o/'y-^ THE KING'S RING. gi'. 
 
 y- 
 
 sword and advanced resolutely to the sumptuous 
 bed — a gift of the citizens of Frankfort, the 
 swelling eider-down cushions of which the royal 
 hero had had exchanged for a simple hair mattress 
 and a coarse blanket of Saxony wool, such as his 
 soldiers used in their winter quarters. 
 
 " Hold ! " exclaimed Regina, almost involun- 
 tarily. But it was too late. Oxenstjerna had, with 
 a quick motion, thrown back the hangings; and 
 behind them appeared a corpse-like face, with 
 dark, burning eyes, and a head covered by a 
 black leather calotte. Another fold of the 
 scarlet was removed, disclosing the full figure 
 of a monk, with hands clasped over a crucifix of 
 silver. 
 
 " Step forth, reverend father," said Oxenstjerna, 
 mockingly. " So modest a position does not befit 
 such a reverend man. Your reverence has chosen 
 an unusual place to perform your evening devo- 
 tions. If his majesty permits me, I will procure 
 you several hearers." 
 
 And, at the sound of the bell, Lieutenant Ber- 
 tel entered, with two of the body-guard, who, 
 with their long halberds, were posted on each side 
 of the entrance. 
 
 The king fastened upon Lady Regina a look in 
 which was reflected more of sorrow than anger. 
 It grieved him that so young and beautiful a girl 
 could be an accomplice in such black treason. 
 
 " Mercy, your majesty! mercy for my father 
 confessor! He is innocent! " exclaimed the young 
 girl, beseechingly. 
 
 " Will your majesty allow me to put some 
 questions in your place? " asked Oxenstjerna. 
 
 " Do as seems best to you, chancellor! " said 
 the king. 
 
92 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 " Well, then, what has your reverence to do 
 here?" 
 
 " To restore a great sinner to the arms of the 
 only saving church! " replied the monk cunningly, 
 with a pious glance toward heaven. 
 
 " Indeed! One must acknowledge that your 
 zeal is great. And for so holy an object you bring 
 with you the image of the crucified Savior?" 
 
 The monk bowed, and made the sign of the 
 cross devoutly. 
 
 " Your reverence is very pious. Hand me the 
 crucifix, that I may admire so precious a treasure." 
 
 The monk reluctantly handed him the image. 
 
 " A fine piece of work! It must have been a 
 skillful artist who ornamented this sacred image." 
 And with this the chancellor's hands felt carefully 
 all over the crucifix. Finally, at a pressure on 
 the breast of the image, a sharp-edged dagger ap- 
 peared. 
 
 "Ah! your reverence is also familiar with in- 
 nocent playthings. Such a well-sharpened dagger, 
 just suitable to pierce the heart of a noble king! 
 , . . Miserable monk!" continued Oxenstjerna, in 
 crushing tones, " do you not know that your abom- 
 inable crime becomes a hundred-fold more abom- 
 inable through the impious means you employ?" 
 
 Like all the kings of the Wasa branch, Gustaf 
 Adolf was in his youth a person of hot temper, 
 which more than once led him to hasty deeds. The 
 ripening influence of manhood, and a rich life-ex- 
 perience, had somewhat cooled his fiery disposi- 
 tion; but occasionally the Wasa blood boiled 
 over. This occurred now. He was great enough 
 to regard with the composure of majesty a base 
 treason against his life, upon which, however, 
 Germany's weal or woe depended at that moment; 
 
THE KING'S RING. 93 
 
 and he looked down with calm contempt upon the 
 convicted traitor, who stood there trembling before 
 his judge. But the base misuse of the Savior's 
 holy image, in turning it as a murderous weapon 
 against one who, for the pure evangelical faith of 
 Jesus Christ, was prepared to sacrifice his life, this 
 seemed to him so frightful a profanation of all that 
 he considered sacred and precious in life, that his 
 calmness in an instant changed to the most violent 
 anger. Large and powerful, like a lion in a rage, 
 he stood- before the deathly pale Jesuit, who was 
 unable to endure his fiery glance. 
 
 " On your knees! " cried the king, in thunder- 
 ing tones, and stamping his foot on the floor so 
 violently that the palace walls echoed the sound. 
 
 The Jesuit fell down, as if struck by lightning, 
 and crept in deadly anguish to the king's feet, like 
 a venomous serpent, which, charmed by the con. 
 juror's gaze, impotently crawls in the dust at the 
 feet of its conqueror. 
 
 "Ye brood of vipers!" continued the king, be- 
 side himself with rage, "how long do ye expect 
 that the Almighty will tolerate your shameful 
 mockery? God knows I have seen much. I have 
 seen your Antichrist and Rome, the Babylonian 
 harlot, prevail over the world with all the deeds of 
 darkness; I have seen you, monks and Jesuits, 
 poison the frightened conscience with your devil- 
 ish doctrines of murder and villainy committed for 
 the glory of heaven; but a deed so black as this, a 
 blasphemy so opposed to all that is most sacred in 
 heaven and on earth, I have never before been 
 able to imagine. I have forgiven you everything. 
 You have conspired against my life at Demmin 
 and elsewhere; I have not taken revenge. You 
 have behaved worse than Turks and heathen 
 
94 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 toward the innocent Lutherans; wherever you 
 have had power, there you have laid waste and 
 desecrated their churches, burnt them alive at 
 your heretic stakes, driven them away from house 
 and home, and, what is more, you have tried with 
 persuasions and threats to draw them over to your 
 idolatrous faith, which worships deeds and miser- 
 able images, instead of the living God and His 
 only begotten Son. All this I have not revisited 
 upon your cloisters and churches and consciences. 
 You have gone free in your belief, and no one has 
 on that score harmed a hair of your heads. Bat 
 now at last I know you, ye servants of the Devil! 
 The Lord God has given you into my hand. I will 
 scatter you like chaff; I will chastise you, ye pro- 
 faners of sanctuaries, and pursue you to the world's 
 end, so long as this arm is able to wield the sword 
 of the Lord God. You have hitherto beheld me 
 merciful and mild; you shall henceforth behold me 
 hard and formidable. I shall, with God's power, 
 uproot you and your cursed doctrines from the 
 earth; and there will be a new order of things, 
 such as the world has not seen since the fall of 
 Rome." 
 
 And the king paced the floor excitedly, without 
 honoring with a look the Jesuit lying at his feet, or 
 the trembling Regina, who, standing apart in the 
 recess of a window, buried her face in her hands. 
 Oxenstjerna, always calm and self-possessed, feared 
 some imprudent step from the king's hastiness, and 
 tried to avert the storm. 
 
 "Will your majesty be pleased," said he, "to 
 order Lieutenant Bertel to place this monk in safe 
 custody, and let the court-martial make a terrifying 
 example of him?" 
 
 "Grace, your majesty! " exclaimed Regina, who 
 
THE KING'S RING. 95 
 
 cherished a blind affection for her father confessor. 
 "Grace! I am the only criminal. It is I who per- 
 suaded him to this unfortunate step; I alone deserve 
 to be punished for it." 
 
 At this noble self-sacrifice, a ray of hope passed 
 over the Jesuit's pale features, but he did not dare 
 to rise. The king paid no heed to the suppliant. 
 Instead, his wrath turned upon the guard. 
 
 " Lieutenant Bertel," said he, sharply, " you 
 have had command over my body-guard to-night; 
 through your neglect has this scoundrel stolen in. 
 Take him to jail immediately, and answer with 
 your head that he does not escape. After that, 
 you can resume your place in the ranks. You are 
 from this moment degraded to be a common sol- 
 dier." 
 
 Bertel gave the salute, and answered not ,a 
 word. The loss of his master's good- will grieved 
 him more than the loss of his position; all the 
 more because he had kept his post with the utmost 
 vigilance. How the Jesuit got in was to him a 
 complete enigma. 
 
 In the meantime the latter had embraced the 
 king's knees, and begged for mercy; but in vain. 
 Gustaf Adolf pushed him back, and he was car- 
 ried off, gnashing his teeth, and with revengeful 
 heart. 
 
 The king then turned to the trembling girl at 
 the window, took her hand, and looked her sharply 
 in the eyes. 
 
 " Lady," said he, sternly, " it is said that when 
 the prince of darkness wishes to accomplish some 
 especially atrocious work on the earth, he sends 
 out his emissaries disguised as angels of light. 
 "What do you expect me to think of you? " 
 
 Regina had sufficient courage to lift her eyes 
 
96 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 to her formidable questioner. " I have nothing 
 more to say. Kill me, sire, but spare my father 
 confessor! " repeated she, with the inflexible reso- 
 lution of fanaticism. 
 
 The king gave her a dark glance, and 
 his scarcely subdued anger fermented again in his 
 breast. 
 
 " If your father, lady, had been a righteous 
 man, he would have taught his daughter to fear 
 God, honor the king, and speak the truth before 
 all persons. You have tried to convert me; I shallj 
 in return, educate you, for you seem to need it» 
 Go! you remain my prisoner until you have 
 learned truthfulness. Oxenstjerna, is the old 
 stern Martha of Korsholm still alive?" 
 
 " Yes, your majesty." 
 
 " She shall have a pupil to educate. At the 
 first opportunity send this girl to Finland." 
 
 Regina left the room, mute and proud. 
 
 " Your majesty ! " said Oxenstjerna, with mild 
 reproachfulness. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE FINNS AT LECH. 
 
 IT is necessary, before going farther in our 
 story, to cast a hurried glance back at Frank- 
 fort. 
 
 After Regina's unfortunate attempt to con- 
 vert the king, she was strictly guarded, and later 
 in the spring, when the waters were free from ice, 
 sent to Finland, where our story may one day find 
 
THE KING'S RING. 97 
 
 her again. No religious hatred, still less revenge, 
 occasioned the anger of the usually magnanimous 
 Gustaf Adolf toward this young girl. Abused 
 confidence wounds a noble heart deeply, and 
 Regina did nothing to remove the conviction of 
 her guilt from the king's mind. She strengthened 
 it more and more through her fanaticism-;—and_ 
 hate still struggled in her young heart for the 
 place which should have belonged to love alone. 
 
 An inexplicable event increased the king's 
 resentment. The same night that the Jesuit 
 Father Hieronymus was taken by Bertel to the 
 state prison, to be hung the next day, this danger- 
 ous monk escaped, no one knew how. These 
 men of darkness had everywhere their allies and 
 their secret passages. That very night a hitherto 
 unknown secret door was discovered to the king's 
 bedchamber. Bertel's innocence of course thus 
 came to light; but his new offence, in allowing his 
 prisoner to escape, again excited the king's anger; 
 and the young lieutenant retained his place in the 
 ranks as a common soldier. 
 
 In the middle of February, 1632, the king 
 began to prepare for decampment. He captured 
 the stronghold at Kreutznach in March, after a 
 two weeks' seige, and left the queen, as well as 
 Axel Oxenstjerna, in Mayence. But Tilly had in 
 the meantime surprised Gustaf Horn at Bamberg, 
 and done great damage. The king marched after 
 Tilly down the Danube, and tried to invade 
 Bavaria by crossing tTie Lech. In vain did his 
 generals object that the stream was too deep and 
 rapid, and that the elector, with Tilly, Altringer^ 
 and twenty-two thousand men, awaited him on the 
 opposite shore. The king spoke Alexander's 
 words at Granicus: " Shall we, who have crossed 
 G 5 
 
TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 the Elbe, Oder, and Rhine, nay, even the Baltic 
 itself, stop disheartened at the river Lech?" And 
 the passage was decided. 
 
 Long did the king ride along the bank to seek 
 a suitable place. Finally he found it at the bend 
 of the stream. One of his dragoons disguised 
 himself as a peasant, pretended that he wished to 
 go over, and lured the information from the credu- 
 lous Bavarians that the Lech was twenty-two feet 
 deep. Some peasant huts were torn down, and of 
 the timber trestles were constructed of just the 
 right height for a bridge; four batteries, with 
 seventy cannon in all, were erected on the bank, 
 and breastworks thrown up for the sharpshooters; 
 while a thick smoke of green wood and damp 
 straw obscured the whole vicinity. 
 
 But Tilly was old and sagacious. In a short 
 time he stood, with BR whole army, in the woods 
 on the other shore, where he built strong fortifica- 
 tions, and dug deep trenches in the loose soil, from 
 which his musketeers directed a murderous fire. 
 On the 3d of April, the Swedish cannon began to 
 retort, and swept clean the opposite tongue of land. 
 By the 5th of April the trestles had been laid right 
 under the fire of the enemy. Planks were now 
 thrown across, and, as usual, the Finns were sent 
 to the front. Three hundred of their foot-soldiers, 
 all volunteers — the little dumpy Larsson and the 
 daring Savolaxen, Paavo Lyydikain, at the head — 
 were ordered to cross the planks and throw up 
 works on the opposite shorff for the defence of the 
 bridge; and to each and all was promised a hand- 
 some reward. It was a solemn and decisive mo- 
 ment, upon which Bavaria's fate depended; for 
 Tilly's balls might at any moment strike the 
 bridge and prevent the crossing. 
 
THE KlN'G'S RING. 99 
 
 The E'inns laid aside their arms, took up spades 
 and pickaxes, and cheering as they went, rushed 
 at full speed over the planks. The most terrific 
 cross-fire from all Tilly's batteries was immediately 
 directed upon this single point. Every instant a 
 ball fell in the water, spun round in a seething 
 foam, and whizzed against the frail bridge; an- 
 other fell short of its aim and buried itself in the 
 sands of its own shore; others swept in high cir- 
 cles over the swiftly advancing Finns, dropping 
 among them and scattering in the way their muti- 
 lated limbs. It is not stated how many of the 
 three hundred got over; for, in fact, those who 
 came had no time either to look back or to count 
 their number. They went vigorously to work with 
 their spades and picks, and in a short time had 
 thrown up an earthwork which in some measure 
 protected their front, while the flanks continued 
 to be exposed to the fire from the batteries. 
 
 Tilly realized too well the importance of this 
 position and redoubled his fire. The Swedes like- 
 wise understood the exigency of the moment, and 
 riddled the opposite wood with a hail of balls, 
 which at one instant struck against th-e stones, 
 making the sparks fly, then mowed down the tree- 
 tops far around, and whirled the branches and 
 fragments over the ranks of the Bavarians, who 
 stood underneath, awaiting the order to advance. 
 The king hhnself, in order to encourage his men, 
 hurried to the batteries, and directed with his own 
 hand no less than sixty shots. The noise of the 
 cannon was so great that it was heard several miles 
 in the interior of the terrified Bavaria. 
 
 The ranks of the advancing Finns had now fear- 
 fully withered; but not until the entrenchment was 
 finished did those who survived look about them, 
 
100 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 and become aware that their number had melted 
 to less than half; a hundred or more lay bleeding 
 on the ground, and many the flood had swallowed 
 up. But at that moment the king commanded the 
 young Karl Gustaf Wrangel, afterwards so cele- 
 brated, to hasten to the relief. The Finns, beside 
 themselves with pride at their countrymen's cour- 
 age and anxiety for their fate, clamored to be led 
 into the fight; and in a trice Wrangel was sur- 
 rounded by three hundred Finnish volunteers, with 
 whom he heroically sprang over the shaking planks. 
 They were greeted with loud hurrahs from those on 
 the other side. The gallant Duke Bernhard, who, 
 like the king, had a partiality for the Finns, re- 
 quested and received permission to make a diver- 
 sion for their benefit. Followed by a troop of 
 Finnish cavalry, he found, at a little distance, a 
 fording-plaoe in the river, passed over successfully, 
 and, with boundless courage, closed in upon the 
 enemy's right flank. The Bavarians, whose atten- 
 tion was fastened upon the bridge, were completely 
 surprised, fell into disorder, notwithstanding their 
 great superiority of numbers, and offered a weak 
 defence. Terribly did Duke Bernhard's little band 
 ravage the broken lines; and before the enemy had 
 time to recover their senses, he and his cavalry had 
 out their way to the other Finns at the end 
 of the bridge. 
 
 It was through these bold and crushing cavalry 
 charges that the Finns obtained the dreaded name, 
 HacJcapeliter, from the words '■'■HaJcka pdallel'''' 
 (" Hew down! ") with which they encouraged each 
 other in the onslaught against the enemy. 
 
 Stimulated by the Finns' success, one detach- 
 ment after another of both Swedish and German 
 infantry, now commenced to cross the bridge. 
 
THE KINGS RING. 101 
 
 Tilly, who had avoided exposing his men to the 
 murderous fire of the Swedes until the very last 
 moment, now sent Altringer, with a strong force of 
 infantry, to take the fortification at the end of the 
 bridge, and drive back the new-comers. The Ba- 
 varians advanced at full speed, but had not gone 
 far before whole ranks fell to the ground under 
 the shower of bullets. Still, their country was at 
 stake; and all who had life and strength dashed 
 with fury against the Finnish entrenchment. 
 Wrangel's young and heroic heart beat violently; 
 his men stood immovable. The crisis was at 
 hand. Like a dark cloud stormed the enemy's 
 Lost, momently decreasing, but yet four or five 
 thousand strong, against the outwork. The Finns 
 gave them a warm welcome: at fifty paces their 
 long muskets were discharged; every shot felled 
 its man. The Bavarians faltered for a moment; 
 most of them were new recruits. They wavered. 
 The Finns had time to reload; again a volley, and 
 the whole body of the assailants dispersed in wild 
 ilight along the shore. Altringer hurried forward, 
 collected them again, and led them for the second 
 time to the onset; at that instant a cannon-ball 
 whizzed so close by his ear that he fell senseless to 
 the earth. For the second time the Bavarians gave 
 way; Tilly saw this from his entrenchments, and 
 sent his prime favorites, the old Wallachians, down 
 to the shore. Even the Wallachians could not 
 maintain their ground, so scathing was the fire. 
 Then Tilly himself seized a standard, and flew at 
 the head of his warriors toward the Finnish works. 
 He had taken but a few steps before he sank 
 down, struck by a falconet-ball, which crushed one 
 leg. The old general was carried senseless from 
 
102 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 the field, and died two weeks afterwards, the 20ch 
 of April, in Ingolstadt. 
 
 The Bavarian army, which had now lost its 
 best commander, became utterly disorganized. 
 The elector, present in person, retreated under 
 cover of the darkness, leaving two thousand dead 
 on the battlefield, and the way open for the Swedes 
 to the heart of Bavaria. 
 
 The following day the whole Swedish army 
 crossed the Lech. The king, with a liberal hand, 
 distributed rewards to his brave men. Among 
 these was a horseman who had accompanied Duke 
 Bernhard, and who was spoken of l|y him in the 
 highest terms. This horseman was Bertel; three 
 wounds — all fortunately slight — '- confirmed the 
 duke's account. Bertel regained his rank, but not 
 what he most valued, the king's favor and confi- 
 dence. Yet he resolved to win this back, even at 
 the cost of his life. 
 
 Then Gustaf Adolf marched to Augsburg, which 
 took the oath of allegiance, and gave brilliant 
 festivals in his honor. Rumor, which joined the 
 names Gustafva Augusta, whispered that the king, 
 here, in the capital of his future German empire, 
 another Hannibal in Capua, abandoned himself to 
 efifeminacy and pleasure. But rumor was mis- 
 taken. Gustaf Adolf was only taking a breathing 
 spell, and revolving still more daring projects in 
 his brain. But from this time shadows hung about 
 the pathway of the king. The death-angel went 
 before him with drawn sword, and aimed, now 
 here, now there, a blow, as if constantly to cry in 
 his ear, " Mortal, remember thou art not a god! " 
 
 One could almost believe, now that ambition 
 began to gain ascendency over the. king's mind, 
 and he was no longer actuated solely by the sacred 
 
THE KING'S RING. 103 
 
 struggle for faith, that the powers of evil had re- 
 dov/bled their dark designs upon him. A secret 
 but formidable enemy went everywhere in his 
 road and meted to him death, but as yet always 
 in vain. At the daring though unsuccessful 
 attack on Ingolstadt, there was, so Fryxell relates, 
 a cannon on the ramparts, called " Fikonet," 
 celebrated for shooting both far and sure. The 
 cannoneer on the ramparts saw, out on the field, a 
 man with a waving plume, riding on a proud 
 charger, and surrounded by attentive followers. 
 " There," said he, " rides a fine lord; but I shall 
 soon put an end to his career; " with which he 
 aimed and discharged " Fikonet." The ball threw 
 down horse and rider; the rest hastened to the 
 spot in alarm; but the king, for it was he, raised 
 himself up, covered with blood and dust, but 
 unharmed, from under the crushed horse, as he 
 exclaimed: "Not yet is the apple ripe!" The 
 citizens of Ingolstadt afterwards exhumed the 
 dead horse, and stuffed his skin, as a perpetual 
 remembrance. Shortly afterwards the king was 
 riding at the side of the young Margrave of Baden 
 Durlach, who had so lately been one of the most 
 brilliant cavaliers at the balls in Augsburg. A 
 cannon-ball went whizzing quite near the king; 
 and, when he looked around, he saw the margrave 
 sink headless from the saddle. 
 
104 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 NEW ADVENTURES. 
 
 THE king turned from Ingolstadt to Laudshut, 
 in the interior of Bavaria. The farther he 
 penetrated into this land, which had never before 
 seen a heretic army within its borders, the darker 
 became the fanaticism of the inhabitants, the 
 wilder their resistance. Great masses of country 
 people collected, commanded by their monks, and 
 lay in wait everywhere for the Swedes, pouncing 
 on all they came across, and torturing their prison- 
 ers in all conceivable ways. The king's people, on 
 their side, arrogant from success, and irritated by 
 these cruelties, began to do discredit to their 
 honorable reputation for military discipline, and 
 visited with bloody revenge the regions they 
 marched through. Far and wide, in the Swedish 
 army's track, raged murder and violence; and woe 
 unto the troops who, not sufficiently strong in 
 numbers, ventured any distance from the main 
 force ! 
 
 Arriving still deeper in the country, the king 
 one day wished to send important orders to Baner, 
 who, in slower marches, covered the retreat from 
 Ingolstadt. Owing to the insecurity of the coun- 
 try, such a mission was extremely dangerous; and 
 the king did not care to employ a large force for 
 it. A young Finnish officer volunteered to exe- 
 cute the charge, accompanied by but two horse- 
 men. The king consented; and the rash troopers 
 
THE KING'S RING. 105 
 
 started off, late one evening in May, on the peril- 
 ous undertaking. 
 
 The young officer was none other than our old 
 acquaintance, Bertel, attended by the East Both- 
 nian, Pekka, and the Tavastlander, Witikka. The 
 night was dark and cloudy; the three horsemen 
 rode cautiously in the middle of the road, as much 
 afraid of getting lost in a strange country as of 
 being struck by the balls of lurking Bavarians in 
 the edge of the woods. A fine rain made the 
 Toads, already cut up by the advancing baggage- 
 wagons, nearly impassable; and at every step 
 they were in dread of stumbling over a stone or of 
 sinking into the deep ruts. 
 
 " See here! " said Witikka, jokingly, to the com- 
 panion at his side; "you are a Pohjalaine, and 
 consequently can practice sorcery? " 
 
 " I would n't be much of a man if I could n't 
 do that," responded Pekka, in the same tone. 
 
 " Then transport us in a flash to Hattimala 
 Heights, and manage so that we may there, beneath 
 the hill, see the light glimmer from Hameenlinna 
 Castle. There sits a gypsy girl that I used to 
 love; and I would rather be at her side to-night 
 than here in the mud-puddles of this cursed 
 wood." 
 
 " That is a small matter for me," answered 
 Pekka, laughing loudly. "Look! there you see 
 the light shine from Hameenlinna." 
 
 His comrade strained his eyes, uncertain 
 whether the East Bothnian spoke jest or earnest, 
 for the latter he considered fully as possible as the 
 former. In reality, a gleam of light was seen in 
 the valley below; but the Tavastlander well knew 
 that he was still two hundred miles from his native 
 village. The horses stopped suddenly, and could 
 
106 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 not be induced to go further. A close barricade 
 of felled trees directly across the road made an 
 insuperable obstacle to their progress. 
 
 " Be still! " whispered Bertel, " I heard a noise 
 in the underbrush." 
 
 The horsemen turned off a little, stopped, and 
 bent down on the horses' backs in breathless si- 
 lence. On the opposite side of the road were 
 heard footsteps and the rustling of broken twigs. 
 
 " They must be here within a quarter of an 
 hour," said a voice with the well-known Bavarian 
 accent. 
 
 " How many are there? " 
 
 " Thirty horsemen, with ten or twelve pack- 
 horses. They started at twilight from Geisenfeld,, 
 and bring with them a girl prisoner." 
 
 "And how many are we? " 
 
 "About fifty with guns, and seventy or eighty 
 with axes and pitchforks." 
 
 " Good! No shot must be fired before they are 
 within three steps." 
 
 At this moment Bertel's horse neighed. He 
 was a little beast, but lively and strong, called 
 Lappen, and brought from Rovaniemi. 
 
 " Who goes there? " cried a voice from the roald. 
 
 " Swede! " answered Bertel, boldly, as at 
 WUrtzburg's sally-port; he fired Off a pistol in the 
 direction of the voice, and by the flash perceived 
 a large body of peasants, stationed inside the bar- 
 ricade. Then he turned his horse, urged his com- 
 rades to follow, and galloped rapidly back towards 
 Landshut. 
 
 But the flash had also revealed the three horse- 
 men to the peasants; and they hastened to stop 
 their flight. Bertel, with Lappen, succeeded in 
 getting away; but Witikka's horse stumbled over 
 
THE KING'S RING. 107 
 
 a tree-stump, and Pekka's fat farm-horse, strug- 
 gling to get out of the mud, received a pike-thrust 
 in the breast. 
 
 Bertel, who saw the danger of his comrades, 
 and could not persuade himself to abandon them, 
 swung round, cut down the nearest peasant, seized 
 Pekka's horse by the bridlp, and tried to drag him 
 up, at the same time calling to Witikka to leave 
 his horse and jump on Lappen's back. This bold 
 attempt almost succeeded. The three were already 
 on their way again, when suddenly something 
 whistled thrbugh the air; a lasso descended around 
 Bertel's shoulders and pulled him violently from 
 his horse. Witikka fell at the same moment. 
 Lappen, freed from his double burden, galloped 
 away with loose reins; and, whether willingly or 
 unwillingly, Pekka also followed. Bertel and 
 Witikka were in a twinkling overpowered and 
 pinioned. 
 
 " Hang the dogs before the others come! " cried 
 one. 
 
 " With the head down! " proposed another. 
 
 "And a little fire underneath!" joined in a 
 third. 
 
 "No fire! No noise!" commanded a fourth, 
 who seemed to have most authority. " Hark, com- 
 rades," whispered he to the prisoners lying on 
 the ground, " was it Finnish you spoke together? " 
 
 " Go to the devil! " growled Witikka. 
 
 " Maledicti, maledicti Fennones! " exclaimed 
 the former voice in the darkness. " You belong 
 to me! " 
 
 " They are coming now! " exclaimed one of the 
 gang; and, indeed, horses' hoofs were heard on the 
 road to Ingolstadt. The peasants kept still, and, 
 for greater security, gagged their prisoners* 
 
108 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 mouths. Those approaching bore torches, and ap- 
 peared to be a troop of German marauders return- 
 ing from a foraging expedition. In consequence 
 of their rapid pace they did not become aware of 
 the barricade until they were close upon it, and at 
 that instant a destructive volley thundered over 
 the hewn trunks of the trees. Ten or twelve of 
 the foremost dropped to the ground; the horses 
 reared, and dragged the fallen men by the stirrups; 
 the whole troop fell into confusion. A part 
 wheeled round immediately, riding over each 
 other and the pack-horses; others discharged their 
 pistols, hap-hazard, at the concealed enemy. The 
 peasants rushed forth from their ambush, threw 
 themselves with fury upon those who remained, 
 a,nd with their nooses jerked them from the horses' 
 backs. The men defended themselves with the 
 courage of desperation, but in vain. In a very 
 few minutes the whole band were scattered; eight 
 or ten had escaped, fifteen lay bleeding on the 
 road, and six or seven were captured, as well as 
 most of the spoils they had with them. Only four 
 of the peasants had fallen. The revenge of the 
 Bavarians was inhuman. They discharged pow- 
 der in their prisoners' faces, blackening them past 
 recognition,buried them half-way in the wet ground, 
 and stoned them slowly to death. 
 
 When this cruel work was finished, they started 
 to take the plunder to a safe place. Bertel and 
 his companion were cast, bound, on one of the 
 captured horses; and they began the march into 
 the woods. After a while a halt was made at a 
 solitary house. The prisoners were dragged in, 
 and laid on the floor of a chamber, while the peas- 
 ants, in the large room adjoining, wild with exulta- 
 tion over their conquest, refreshed themselves with 
 
THE KING'S RING. 109 
 
 the wine they had captured. Into the chamber 
 now entered a monk, deadly pale, wearing at his 
 side a sword in a rope of hemp. With delight he 
 placed the torch near the prisoners' heads, took 
 away the gags from their mouths, and regarded 
 their features in silence. 
 
 " If I see aright," said he, at last, with a smile 
 of scorn, " it is Lieutenant Bertel, of the king's 
 body-guard?" 
 
 Bertel looked up, and recognized the Jesuit 
 Hieronymus. 
 
 "Welcome, lieutenant; and thanks for the last 
 time we met! So rare a guest must be treated in 
 the best manner. It seems to me that I have also 
 seen your comrade before," continued he, pointing 
 to Witikka. 
 
 The wild Tavastlander looked him steadily in 
 the eyes, and twisted his mouth into a defiant 
 grin. 
 
 " What have you done with your ears, monk?" 
 cried he, mockingly. "Away with the calotte, hen- 
 thief, and let us see whether any asses' ears have 
 grown there! " 
 
 At this reckless reminder of the battlefield at 
 Breitenfeld, the Jesuit's brow was shadowed by a 
 dark cloud ; a flush passed over his livid features, 
 and his lips were drawn in with rage. 
 
 "Think of your own ears, comrade!" said he. 
 '■^Anathema mar anatha! they will soon have heard 
 enough in this world." 
 
 At'these words the Jesuit clapped his hands 
 twice; when in came a blacksmith, with his leather 
 apron, carrying a red-hot pair of tongs, which he 
 kept aglow in the furnace close at hand. 
 
 " Well, comrade, are your ears getting hot?" 
 taunted the monk, grimly. 
 
no TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 Witikka answered defiantly: 
 
 "You fancy yourself very smart; and yet you 
 are nothing compared to the devil. Your lord and 
 master doesn't need any tongs, only claws." 
 
 " The right ear," said the Jesuit, laconically. 
 The smith put the tongs to the Tavastlander's 
 head. Witikka smiled contemptuously. A hasty 
 flush colored his brown cheeks, but only for an 
 instant. He had now but one ear. 
 
 " If you will adjure your faith, acknowledge the 
 pope, and curse Luther, then you may keep your 
 other ear." 
 
 " Niggard! " burst put the Tavastlander. "Your 
 lord and master used to offer lands and kingdoms, 
 and you only offer me a miserable ear! " 
 
 " The left ear! " continued the Jesuit, coolly. 
 
 The smith did as commanded. The tortured 
 soldier smiled. 
 
 "Monk, this is infamous!" exclaimed Bertel, 
 lying bound at the side of Witikka. " Kill us, if 
 you will, but do it quickly! " 
 
 " Who has said that I intend to kill you?" re- 
 sponded Father Hieronymus, smiling. "On the 
 contrary, it depends upon yourself whether you 
 regain freedom, unharmed, this very night." 
 
 "And what do you ask of me?" 
 
 " You are a brave young man, Lieutenant Ber- 
 tel. It pains me that the king has so shamefully 
 and unjustly deprived you of the -rank you earned 
 with your blood." 
 
 "Ah, indeed ! it pains you! Well, what then?" 
 
 " In your place, I would take revenge." 
 
 "Revenge? Oh, yes! I have thought of it." 
 
 "You belong to Gustaf Adolf's body-guard. 
 Do you know, young friend, what the true-believ- 
 
THE KING'S RING. \\\ 
 
 ing Catholic princes would give the one who deliv- 
 ered the king, dead or living, into their hands?" 
 
 " How should I know, reverend father?" 
 
 "A prince's domain, if he were a nobleman; 
 fifty thousand ducats if he were a commoner." 
 
 " Reverend father, that is very little for so great 
 a service." 
 
 " Choose between death and a princely recom- 
 pense! " 
 
 " It was this, then, that you sought, reverend 
 father?" 
 
 "Do as you choose; when you have reflected 
 upon the matter, we can talk further together. 
 This time you ca,n purchase life and liberty at a 
 lower rate — for a trifle." 
 
 "What may it be, reverend father?" 
 
 " Listen to me. I demand only a sacred oath 
 that you will do me an insignificant service. King 
 Gustaf Adolf wears on his right forefinger a little 
 copper ring. It is to him of slight value; but for 
 me, young friend, it has higher importance. I am 
 - . . a curiosity- seeker; I would like to possess a 
 memento of a king whom I must hate as an enemy 
 but admire as a man." 
 
 "And the ring?" 
 
 " The ring you must swear to put into my hand, 
 by some means or other, before the next new moon. 
 Do this, and you are free! " 
 
 " Oh — only a little sin against the seventh com- 
 mandment? And you have absolution all ready — 
 is it not so? Go, miserable thief ! and thank your 
 good fortune that my arm is bound. By Heaven! 
 otherwise it would teach you respect for a soldier's 
 honor! '' 
 
 " Be quiet, young man; remember that your 
 
112 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 life is in my hands. When I have finished with 
 your companion, I shall begin with you." 
 
 Bertel only gave him a contemptuous look. 
 
 " Smith, to work! " muttered the Jesuit, under 
 his breath. And the smith again drew his white- 
 hot tongs from the fire. 
 
 At that instant a confused uproar arose among 
 the peasants in the outer room. Cries of, " To 
 arms! The Swedes are upon us! " were heard, 
 and just then the door was thrown open. Part of 
 the peasants seized their guns; others lay asleep 
 and drunk on the floor; but without was plainly 
 heard the Swedish officer's command: 
 
 " Set fire to the house, boys; we have them all 
 in a trap! " 
 
 At these words the Jesuit jumped out of the 
 window. 
 
 A hot but brief struggle now ensued at the 
 door. The peasants soon yielded, and begged for 
 quarter. In answer, the foremost were knocked 
 down with halberds, the rest bound, the cabin was 
 plundered of the pillage jutt brought there, and 
 Bertel and his maltreated comrade were loosed 
 from their bonds. 
 
 " Is that you, Larsson? " exclaimed the freed 
 prisoner, gladly. 
 
 "Thunder and lightning! Is it you, Bertel? 
 Is this where you wished to deliver the king's 
 orders?" 
 
 " And you yourself ? " 
 
 " Why, you know that 1 am a child of fortune. 
 I am sent to guard a train; I meet on the road 
 some rascally marauders, who speak of an ambus- 
 cade here in the woods; I hurry in the direction 
 from whence they came, deliver a brave comrade, 
 
THE KING'S RING. 113 
 
 and gain a pretty girl. Look at her — cheeks like 
 a tulip, eyes to buy fish with!" 
 
 Bertel turned round, and saw at his side a 
 trembling-girl, half fainting with fright. 
 
 " It is Katchen, Lady Regina's maid ! " ex- 
 claimed Bertel, who had many times seen the 
 light hearted girl with her gloomy mistress. 
 
 "Save me, lieutenant! save me!" cried the girl, 
 seizing his arm violently. " They have snatched 
 me by force from my aunt's house." 
 
 "Larsson, I beg of you, give me the girl! " 
 
 "Does the devil ride you? Do you mean to 
 take my girl from me?" 
 
 " Let her go, I beg you ! " 
 
 " In a few weeks certainly I will; but release 
 her, I tell you, or ... " The hot-blooded 
 little champion raised his long sword, upon which 
 he had so lately impaled peasants. 
 
 "The cabin is on fire!" was cried at that in- 
 stant, in all directions; and a thick, stifling smoke 
 proved the reality of the danger. Bertel started 
 out with the girl, Larsson after him; and the heat 
 of anger passed off before that of the fire. Not 
 until they saw the cabin in a blaze from outside, 
 did it enter Bertel's mind that the house was full 
 of people — about thirty peasants, bound hand and 
 foot. 
 
 "Come, make haste; let us save the poor 
 creatures! " exclaimed he. 
 
 "Are you crazy? " retorted Larsson, laughing. 
 "It is only some of the lubbers who have just 
 taken the lives of so many of our brave fellows. 
 Come! fire up, boys, that the ale-drinkers may not 
 freeze from good cheer." 
 
 It was now too late to afford any help. The 
 unfortunate Bavarians fell victims to the barbarous 
 H 5* 
 
114 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 war-system of the time which so often permitted 
 one cruelty to outdo another. With abhorrence 
 we turn away from the wild scenes of those times, 
 and hasten to the grander and more inspiring 
 picture of the Swedish lion's last struggle. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 NUEEMBEEG AND LTTTZEN. 
 
 LIKE wave heaped upon wave in a roaring 
 rapid, events now crowded themselves; and 
 our narrative, pressed within narrow limits, is 
 forced to hurry forward with the rapid's swiftness. 
 We must hasten over the roost remarkable events in 
 a remarkable time, to find again the thread of our 
 story, slender, but running through many genera- 
 tions and vicissitudes — the king'^ ring. 
 
 Wallenstein the Terrible had become reconciled 
 with the emperor, collected a formidable army, 
 and turned like a dark thunder-cloud toward the 
 wealthy city of Nuremberg. Gustaf Adolf broke 
 off his victorious career in Bavaria, to hurry to 
 meet him; and there, in two strongly- fortified en- 
 campments, both armies stood motionless, opposite 
 each other, for eleven weeks — the panther and the 
 lion, crouching ready for a spring, and watching 
 sharply each other's slightest movement. The 
 whole region was drained for the subsistence of 
 these armies, and provisions were constantly 
 brought in from a distance by foraging parties. 
 Among the Imperialists, Isolani's Croats distin- 
 guished themselves in this work; among the 
 
THE KING'S RING. 115 
 
 Swedes, Taupadel's dragoons and Stalhandske's 
 Finnish cavalry. 
 
 Famine, the heat of summer, disease, and the 
 depredations of the German soldiers, spread want 
 and misery everywhere. Gustaf Adolf, who, after 
 joining Oxenstjerna's and Bandr's combined armies, 
 had a force of fifty thousand men, marched, on the 
 24th of August, 1632, against Wallenstein, who, with 
 sixty thousand men, stood behind impregnable fort- 
 ifications. Long before day, Torstenson's artillery 
 commenced to thunder against Alte Veste. In the 
 darkness of night, five hundred German musketeers 
 of the White Brigade climbed up the steep heights, 
 and, in spite of the terrible shower of balls, 
 mounted the ramparts. For a moment victory 
 seemed to reward their contempt of death; the 
 drowsy foes' bewilderment, the shrieks of the 
 women, and the Swedish balls, which threw down 
 tents and people, favored the attack. But Wallen- 
 stein maintained sense and composure, sent away 
 the women, and turned mass upon mass against 
 the besiegers. The gallant brigade was driven 
 back with loss. The king did not give way; once 
 more the White Brigade stormed — in vain. Then 
 Gustaf Adolf called his Finns, " in order," as Schil- 
 ler says, " to put the German cowards to the blush 
 with their northern courage." 
 
 These were the East Bothnians, in the ranks of 
 the Swedish brigade. They saw death before their 
 eyes in the shape of a hundred fiery mouths; but 
 resolutely, with unshaken courage, they clambered 
 up the precipice, slippery with rain and blood. 
 But against these solid ramparts, against this mur- 
 derous shower of balls, all their valor rebounded; 
 in the midst of fire and death, they tried once more 
 to gain a foothold on the rampart^ but in vain; the 
 
116 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 few who had escaped the bullets and pikes were 
 hurled violently back. For the first time, Gustaf 
 Adolfs Finns were seen to retreat; and equally- 
 futile were all attempts of succeeding troops. The 
 Imperialists hastened out in pursuit, but were 
 driven back. With great loss' of life, the strife 
 raged all day; many of the bravest leaders fell; 
 and the death-angel again aimed a bullet at the 
 king, but without harming more than the sole of 
 his boot. 
 
 On the left wing, the Imperial cavalry came in 
 collision with the Swedes. Cronenberg, with his 
 cuirassiers, clad in mail from head to foot, and 
 widely celebrated as the " Invincibles," bore the 
 Hessians to the ground. The Landgrave of Hesse 
 remarked, resentfully, that the king wished to 
 spare his own troops at the expense of the Ger- 
 mans. « Well, then," said Gustaf Adolf, " I will 
 send my Finns; and I hope that the change of men 
 will give a change of luck." StSlhandske, with 
 the Finns, were now sent against Cronenberg and 
 the " Invincibles." Between these superb troops 
 ensued a proud, a glorious struggle, of imjjerishable 
 memory. On the shore of the Regnitz River, 
 thickly overgrown with bushes, the two detach- 
 ments encountered each other, man to man, horse 
 to horse; sword-blades were dulled against helmets, 
 long pistols flashed, and many valiant horsemen 
 were driven down in the whirl of the river. It is 
 probable that the Finnish horses here also held out 
 better than the beautiful and swift Hungarian 
 chargers; and this contributed to the victory. The 
 brave Cronenberg fell; his " Invincibles " fled be- 
 fore the Finns. In his place, Fugger, with a for- 
 midable force, charged the Finns, and drove them, 
 under constant fighting, with breast toward the 
 
THE KING'S RING. 117 
 
 enemy, slowly to the underbrush. But here the 
 Imperialists were met by the fire of the Swedish 
 infantry. Fugger fell, and his cavalry were again 
 repulsed by the fatigued Finns. 
 
 At nightfall, more than three thousand dead 
 covered the heights and plain. " In the battle of 
 Alte Veste," says Schiller, "Gustaf Adolf was con- 
 sidered conquered because he did not himself con- 
 quer." The next day he withdrew to Bavaria. 
 Forty-four thousand persons — friends and enemies 
 — had pest and war swallowed up during these fa- 
 tal weeks in and around Nuremberg. 
 
 The darkness of autumn increased; its fogs 
 covered Germany's blood-stained soil; and yet 
 there seemed to be no end to the struggle. But a 
 great spirit was destined here, after many storms, 
 to find a peaceful haven, and to go from life's au- 
 tumnal evening to the eternal light. Nearer and 
 nearer hovered the death-angel over Gustaf Adolfs 
 noble head, shedding upon it the halo of a higher 
 world, which is often seen to beam around the no- 
 ble of earth in their last moments. The multitude 
 about them misunderstand it, but the departing ones 
 divine the meaning. Two days before his death, 
 the people of Naumberg paid homage to Gustaf 
 Adolf as to a god; but through his soul flew a pre- 
 sentiment of the end of his career, and he said to 
 the court minister, Fabricius: 
 
 " Perhaps God will soon punish both their 
 idolatrous folly, and me, who am the object of it, 
 and show that I also am a weak and mortal per- 
 son." 
 
 The king had gone up to Saxony, to follow in 
 the track of the ravaging Wallenstein. At Arn- 
 stadt he took farewell of Axel Oxenstjerna; at 
 Erfurt, of Queen Maria Eleonora. There and at 
 
118 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 Nuremberg it was perceived, from many of his ar- 
 rangements, that he was prepared for what was 
 coming. Wallenstein, who believed that the king 
 had gone into winter quarters, sent Pappenheim, 
 with twelve thousand men, to Halle; he remained 
 at Liitzen, with twenty-eight thousand men, and 
 the king in Naumburg with twenty thousand. 
 
 But on the 4th of November, when Gustaf 
 Adolf learned of Pappenheim's departure, he 
 hastily broke camp to surprise his weakened 
 enemy, and would have succeeded had he come 
 to the attack on the 5th. But Providence threw 
 in his triumphant path a slight obstacle — the little 
 stream Rippach, which, together with freshly- 
 ploughed fields, hindered his progress. Not until 
 late on the afternoon of the 5th did the king 
 approach Lutzen. Wallenstein had gained time, 
 and knew how to use it. Along the high-road to 
 Leipzig he had had ditches dug and breastworks, 
 thrown up on both sides of the way, and filled, 
 them with his best sharpshooters, intending to de- 
 stroy with their cross-fire the advancing Swedes. 
 The king's council of war dissuaded from the 
 attack. Only Duke Bernhard advised it, and the 
 king was of the same opinion: " For," said he, "it 
 is best to wash one's self thoroughly clean when 
 one is once in the bath." 
 
 The night was dark and dreary. The king spent 
 it in an old carriage, together with Kniephausen 
 and Duke Bernhard. His restless soul had time to- 
 think of everything; and then, says the tradition, 
 he drew from his right forefinger a little ring of 
 Copper, and handed it to Duke Bernhard, with in- 
 struction that, if anything should happen to him, 
 he should deliver it to a young officer of the 
 Finnish cavalry. 
 
THE KING'S RltTG. 119 
 
 Early in the morning, Gustaf Adolf rode out to 
 inspect the order of battle. He was clad in a 
 jacket of elk-skin, with a gray cloak. When ex- 
 horted to wear armor on such a day, he answered: 
 
 " God is my armor." 
 
 A thick mist delayed the attack. At dawn the 
 whole army joined in singing, "A mighty fortress 
 is our God ;" and as the fog continued, the king 
 began, with his own voice, " God, be to us gracious 
 and kind," as well as, " Be not dismayed, thou little 
 flock," which latter he had shortly before composed. 
 Then he rode along the ranks, crying: 
 
 " To-day, boys, we will put an end to all our 
 troubles;" and his horse stumbled twice. 
 
 It was eleven o'clock in the forenoon before 
 the mist was dispelled by a slight gust of wind. 
 The Swedish army immediately advanced to the 
 assault. On the right wing, which was commanded 
 by the king, again stood Stalhandske with the 
 Finns, and behind them the Swedish troops; in 
 the centre, the Swedish Yellow and Green Brig- 
 ades, under Niis Brahe; on the left wing, the 
 German cavalry, under Duke Bernhard. Opposite 
 the Duke stood CoUoredo, with the flower of the 
 cavalry; in the centre, Wallenstein himself, with 
 close masses of infantry in four large tertiers, and 
 seven cannon in their front; opposite Stalhandske 
 stood Isolani, with his ferocious but brave Croats. 
 The battle-cry was on both sides the same as at 
 Breitenfeld. When the king gave the order to 
 attack, he clasped his hands and exclaimed: 
 
 " Jesu, Jesu, help me to fight to-day for the 
 glory of Thy holy name! " 
 
 Lutzen was now set on fire by the Imperialists; 
 the artillery began to thunder, and the Swedish 
 army advanced, but suffered great losses at the 
 
130 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 '^?iVY outset. At last the Swedish centre crossed 
 the trenches, took the seven cannon, and routed 
 the enemj-'s first two brigades. The third had 
 already turned to flee, when Wallenstein succeeded 
 in rallying them; the Swedes were taken in the 
 flank by the cavalry, and the Finns, who had put 
 the Croats and Polanders to flight, had not yet 
 crossed the trenches. Then the Idng rushed for- 
 ward at the head of the Smalanders, only a few of 
 whom had sufficiently good horses to follow him. 
 It is said that an Imperial musketeer aimed at the 
 king with a silver bullet; the certainty is, that his 
 left arm was crushed, and that he endeavored to 
 conceal his wound, but soon, weakened by the loss 
 of blood, begged the Duke of Lauenburg, who 
 rode at his side, to lead him, unobserved, from the 
 strife. But in the midst of the tumult, GStz's 
 cuirassiers came up, led by Moritz von Falkenberg, 
 who recognized the king, and shot him through the 
 body, with the exclamation: 
 
 " Thee have I long sought! " and directly af- 
 terwards Falkenberg himself fell, struck by a ball. 
 
 Now the king has reeled in his saddle, and en- 
 treated the duke to save his own life; the duke 
 has seized him around the waist to support him, 
 but at that instant a whole swarm of enemies have 
 rushed upon them and separated them. A pistol- 
 shot has singed the duke's hair; the king's horse 
 has been shot through the neck, and has reared; 
 Gustaf Adolf has sunk from the saddle, has been 
 dragged a little way by the stirrups, and then left 
 on the ground. The young page, Leubelfingen, 
 from Nuremberg, has offered him his horse, but 
 has not been able to lift up the fallen man. Some 
 Imperial cavalrymen have come to the spot, and 
 asked' who the wounded person was; and when 
 
THE KING'S RING. 121 
 
 Leubelfingen has not been -willing to answer, one 
 of them has run a sword through his body, another 
 has shot the king through the head; after this, 
 others have discharged several shots at them, and 
 the two have been left under a pile of corpses. 
 But Leubelfingen lived a few days after, to relate 
 to after-times the sad and never-to-be-forgotten 
 story of Gustaf Adolf's heroic death. 
 
 In the meantime, the Swedish centre had been 
 compelled to retire, a thousand mutilated corpses 
 covered the battle-field, and yet not a foot of soil 
 had been gained. Both armies occupied nearly 
 the same position as at the beginning of the bat- 
 tle. 
 
 Then the king's wounded horse, with the empty 
 saddle covered with blood, galloped in among the 
 ranks. " The king has fallen! " And, as Schiller 
 beautifully says, " Life fell in value when the most 
 sacred of all lives w^as no more; death had no 
 longer any terror for the humblest, since it had not 
 spared the crowned head." 
 
 Duke Bernhard galloped from rank to rank: 
 
 " Ye Swedes, Finns and Germans," said he, 
 " liberty's defender, your defender, and ours, has 
 fallen! Every man who holds the king dear will 
 hasten forward to avenge his death ! " 
 
 The first to respond to this appeal was Stil- 
 handske and the Finns. With incredible exestion 
 they leaped the trenches, and drove before them 
 swarms of scattered enemies; all fell before their 
 blows. Isolani, put to flight, wheeled round and 
 attacked the Swedish wagon-trains, but was again 
 repulsed. With like fury, Brahe, with the centre, 
 pressed across the trenches; while Duke Bernhard, 
 without heeding the ball which had crushed his 
 arm, took one of the enemy's batteries. The 
 6 
 
122 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 whole Imperial army faltered, staggered and 
 broke before this fearful assault; their powder- 
 carts were blown into the air. Wallenstein's 
 word of command and Picoolomini's brilliant 
 valor were no longer able to stay the reckless 
 flight. 
 
 But at that instant there resounded far over the 
 plain the jubilant cry, " Pappenheim is here!" 
 And Pappenheim, the bravest of the brave, was 
 there with his cavalry, and his first question was : 
 
 " Where is the King of Sweden? " 
 
 They pointed to Stalhandske's lines, and he 
 started there. The hottest, the most infuriate con- 
 test now took place. The Imperialists, regaining 
 courage, turned back and attacked from three sides 
 at once. No one yielded ground. Brahe, and 
 with him the Yellow. Brigade, fell almost to the 
 last man. Winckel, with the Blue, fell in like 
 beautiful order, man by man, just as they stood in 
 the ranks. The rest of the Swedish foot-soldiers 
 drew slowly back, and victory seemed to smile 
 upon the all-powerful Pappenheim. 
 
 But he, the Ajax of his time, the man with a 
 hundred scars, was not destined to see the day of 
 triumph. Already, in the first attack against the 
 Finns, a falconet-ball had struck his hip; two mus- 
 ket-balls had pierced his scarred breast; it is said 
 that StSlhandske's own hand had reached him. He 
 fell, even in his last moments rejoicing over Gustaf 
 Adolf's death; and the news of his fall spread ter- 
 ror through the Imperial ranks. " Pappenheim is 
 dead; all is lost! " Once more the Swedes ad. 
 vanced. Duke Bernhard, Kniephausen, Stalhand- 
 ske, performed miracles; but Piceolomini also, 
 who, with six wounds, mounted his seventh horse, 
 fought with more than mortal courage. The Impe- 
 
THE KING'S RING. 123 
 
 rial centre stood firm, and only darkness suspended 
 the conflict. Wallenstein withdrew, and the ex- 
 hausted Swedish army encamped on the battle- 
 field. Nine thousand dead covered the plain of 
 Lutzen. 
 
 The results of thia battle were severely felt by 
 the Imperialists. They had lost all their artillery 
 — Pappenheim's and Wallenstein's reputation for 
 invincibility. The great Friedlander raged with 
 fury; his hard hand dispensed the gallows to the 
 cowardly as liberally as ducats to the brave. Sick 
 and gloomy, he retired with the remainder of his 
 army, about ten thousand men, back to Bohemia, 
 where the stars became his nightly companions, 
 treasonable plans his daily relaxation, and death, 
 by Butler's hand, the end of his brilliant career. 
 
 But over the whole Catholic world went a great 
 jubilee of victory, for Lutherism and the Swedes 
 had lost infinitely more than their foes. Paralyzed 
 was the arm that had so powerfully wielded the 
 victorious sword of light and liberty. The grief 
 of the Protestants was general and deep, mingled 
 with fear for the future. Not without ground was 
 the Te Deum sung in the cathedrals of Vienna, 
 Brussels, and Madrid; twelve days' brilliant bull- 
 fights celebrated in Madrid the fall of the dreaded 
 hero; but Emperor Ferdinand, greater than his 
 contemporaries, is said to have shed tears at the 
 sight of his slain enemy's bloody jacket. 
 
 Many stories were circulated about the great 
 Gustaf Adolf's death ; now it was the Duke Franz 
 Albert of Lauenburg, now Richelieu, now Dulie 
 Bernhard, whom popular belief accused of partici- 
 pation in the king's fall; but none of these sus- 
 picions have been confirmed by the impartial 
 historian. A recent German author communicates 
 
124 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 the following popular version: " Gustaf Adolf, 
 King of Sweden, received, while he was yet very- 
 young, from a lady whom he much loved, a ring of 
 iron, which he never -afterwards allowed to be 
 taken from his hand. The ring consisted of seven 
 circles, which formed the letters of both his names. 
 Seven days before his death, this ring was taken 
 from him without his being aware, at the time, of 
 the singular theft." 
 
 The reader knows that our story joins its thread 
 to the same ring; but several reasons entitle us to 
 the supposition that the ring was of copper. 
 
 The evening after the battle, Duke Bernhard 
 sent his soldiers with lighted torches to look for 
 the king's dead body; and they found it, plun- 
 dered, disfigured, under a heap of corpses. Brought 
 to the village of Meuchen, it was there embalmed, 
 and the soldiers received permission to behold the 
 remains of their king and hero. Bitter tears were 
 there shed, but tears full of pride; for even the 
 most humble considered himself great through the 
 honor of having fought by the side of so heroic a 
 king. 
 
 " See," said a veteran of Stalhandske's Finns, 
 -sobbing aloud, " they have robbed him of his gold 
 chain and his copper ring. I still see the white 
 mark left by the ring on his right forefinger." 
 
 " What would they care for a ring of <5opper?" 
 asked a Scot, who had just come to the array, and 
 knew nothing of the story which circulated among 
 the people. 
 
 " His ring-! " exclaimed a Pomeranian, mysteri- 
 ously. " You may rely upon it that the Jesuits 
 knew what it was igood -for. The ring was en- 
 chanted by a Finnish -witch, and, as long as the 
 
THE KING'S RING. 135 
 
 king wore it, neither iron nor lead had any effect 
 ■upon him." 
 
 " But, you see, to-day he lost it," joined in a, 
 third; " and therefore ... do you comprehend?" 
 
 " What is that the Pomeranian pear-eater 
 says? " burst out the Finn, bitterly. " God's 
 power, and no other, has protected our great king; 
 but the ring was given him, a long while ago, by a 
 Finnish girl whom he held very dear in his youth. 
 I know something more about it than you, apple- 
 muncher! " 
 
 Duke Bernhard, who, sombre and thoughtful, 
 contemplated the king's pale features, looked 
 around at these words, put his unhurt hand within 
 his unbuttoned jacket, and turned to the Finn, 
 saying: 
 
 " Comrade, do you know one of Stalhandske's 
 ofiBcers named Bertel?" 
 
 " Yes, certainly, your highness." 
 
 "Is he alive?" 
 
 "No, your highness." 
 
 The duke turned abstractedly to another, and 
 gave orders right and left. In a few moments he 
 again seemed, at the sight of the king, to be re- 
 minded of something. 
 
 " Was he a brave man ? " asked he. 
 
 " He was one of Stalhandske's cavalry! " said 
 the Finn, with emphasis, and with a pride which 
 did not ill become him. 
 
 " When did he fall, and where? " 
 
 " In the last skirmish with the Pappenheim- 
 ers." 
 
 "Search for him!" 
 
 The duke's command was executed without 
 grumbling by these over-wearied soldiers, who, 
 with good reason, wondered why it was that one 
 
126 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 of the youngest officers should be searched for that 
 very night, when Nils Brahe, Winckel, and so 
 many other gray-haired generals, were still lying 
 in their blood on the battle-field. Not until 
 early morning did those sent out return with the 
 intelligence that Bertel's dead body was nowhere 
 to be found. 
 
 " Hum! "said the duke, displeased; " great men 
 have sometimes their little whims; what shall I 
 now do with the king's ring?" 
 
 And the November sun rose blood-red over the 
 field of Liitzen. A new epoch dawned; the mas- 
 ter was gone, and the pupils had now to see how 
 they could carry out his work. 
 
PART n. — THE SWORD AM) THE 
 PLOUGH. 
 
 INTERLUDE. 
 
 WHEN the Surgeon had ended his first story, 
 his hearers sat for a time in silence, reflect- 
 ing, perhaps, upon the death of the great king, or 
 perhaps not realizing that the tale was ended. On 
 the stuffed leather sofa sat the old grandmother, in 
 her brown-plaid woolen shawl, and at her side the 
 school-teacher, Master Svenonius, with his blue 
 handkerchief and brass-rimmed eyeglasses; on the 
 Tight, Captain Svanholm, the postmaster, who had 
 lost his left forefinger in the last war; on the left, the 
 pretty Anne Sophie, who was then eighteen years 
 •of age, and wore a high tortoise-shell comb in her 
 thick brown hair; while around them on the floor, 
 with and without seats, were six or seven frolicsome 
 and mischievous little folks, all with wide open 
 mouths, as though they had heard a ghost story. 
 
 The first one to break the silence was Anne 
 Sophie, who, with a cry, sprang up from her chair, 
 stumbled, and fell into Master Svenonius' arms. 
 This little interruption had about the same effect 
 on the company, who at that moment were in Liit- 
 zen, as if all Isolani's Croats had suddenly charged 
 into the peaceful chamber. The postmaster, yet 
 warm from the heat of the conflict, jumped up and 
 trod on the old grandmother's sore foot with his 
 iron-shod heel; the schoolmaster looked quite dis- 
 
 (187) 
 
128 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 concerted, not at all realizing the value of the 
 burden he held in his arms^r-undoubtedly the first 
 and the prettiest in his whole life; the children, 
 scattered confusedly in all directions, upset their 
 benches, and crept behind the Surgeon's high- 
 backed chair; but young Andreas, who had just 
 been following Stalhandske's cavalry in the gallop 
 over the trenches, seized the Surgeon's silver- 
 headed Spanish cane, and placed himself in posi^ 
 tion to receive the Croats at the point of the bayo- 
 net. Old Back was the only one who maintained 
 his imperturbable composure; he took out his oval 
 tobacco-box, bit off a very little piece, and g.sked, 
 mildly: " What is the matter with you, Anne So- 
 phie? " Anne Sophie loosed herself, blushing and 
 embarrassed, from the master's embrace, and looked 
 around after the culprit, declaring that somebody 
 had pricked her in the arm with a pin. 
 
 The old grandmother, who, when occasion re- 
 quired, was quick to scent out mischief, immedi- 
 ately instituted proceedings which resulted in the 
 discovery that Jonathan had inserted a pin in the 
 end of his rattan, and therewith disturbed his old- 
 est sister, who had not yet recovered from the 
 effects of the battle of Lutzen. The trial was 
 short and summary, like that of a court-martial; 
 and our good Jonathan received the hard sentence 
 of banishment to the nursery and learning an extra 
 lesson for the next day. 
 
 When, by action of the reigning powers, and 
 without undue bloodshed, order was again restored, 
 the company found opportunity for some conversa- 
 tion about the Surgeon's tale. 
 
 " It is altogether too tumultuous a story, my 
 dear cousin," began the_ old, grandmother, regard- 
 ing the narrator with one of those i»ild and ex- 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 139 
 
 pressive glances which yet in her old age capti- 
 vated all hearts with their peculiar intelligence and 
 kindness — "altogether too tumultuous, I must 
 say. It seems to me that my ears are yet deafened 
 by the tumult of the cannon. War is- something 
 horrible and detestable, when we consider all the 
 blood that is shed on the battle-field and all the 
 tears at home. When shall the day come when 
 men, instead of tearing each other to pieces, will 
 share the earth and our Lord's good gifts together 
 in peace and harmony? " 
 
 Here the postmaster's martial sympathies rose 
 in arms. 
 
 "Peace? — sharing? — and no war? Pshaw, cous- 
 in, pshaw! would you make an ant's nest of the 
 world? Just think, what a state of things! Scrib- 
 blers would ink over everything; cowards and petty 
 despots would jump on honest men's noses; and 
 when one nation domineered over another, people 
 would bow humbly, thank their masters, and look 
 like sheep. No, the devil take me! such men as Gus- 
 taf Adolf and Napoleon, they shake things up; they 
 tap. a little blood which has been spoiled by too 
 much good living, and thereby the world gets 
 healthier. I remember yet the 31st of August, at 
 Karstula: Fieandt stood at the left, and I at the 
 right . . ." 
 
 " If I might interrupt my honored brother in 
 his speech," said the master, who had heard a hun- 
 dred and seventy times before the Karstula story, 
 in which Svanholm, then a sergeant, had lost the 
 celebrated finger, " I would prove that the world 
 would profit more by ink than blood. Inter anna 
 silent leges. Should war prevail now, we would not 
 be sitting here by our fire and our toddy in Back's 
 chamber, but our place would be by a cannon on a 
 I 
 
130 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 fortress-wall, linstock in hand, instead of a glass; 
 powder in the pouch instead of snuff. But now, 
 you see, it is the ink that has made you, brother, a 
 postmaster; in the ink you live, and have your be- 
 ing; ink is your daily bread; and what would you 
 be with blood alone and no ink, I ask?" 
 
 "What would I be? Devil take me! I . . ." 
 
 " Cousin Svanholm! " said the old grandmother, 
 with an expressive glance around at the children. 
 
 The postaiaster hushed instantly. The Surgeon 
 realized the necessity of establishing peace be- 
 tween ink and blood. 
 
 " I mean," said he, " that nations go through 
 this world very much like all the rest of us children 
 of humanity. In their youth they are wild and 
 lawless; they fight and rage and tear each other to 
 pieces, man against man. Then they become older 
 and wiser, invent gunpowder, place mass against 
 mass, and let them in cold blood kill their brethren 
 at long distances. Finally the world comes to 
 reason, loads with powder only, as if for firing a 
 salute, and seizes the pen, which is very sharp 
 when required. And then begins the reign of 
 universal common-sense, which is certainly the 
 wisest, according to my understanding." 
 
 "Oh, a thousand dev . . . . well, well, 
 
 cousin, I am silent as a brick wall ! " exclaimed the 
 postmaster. " But I only ask, what kind of a man 
 was Gustaf Adolf ? What kind of a man was 
 Napoleon? Were they birthday musicians, do you 
 think? Were they wild and reckless? — yes, thanks 
 for it . . . cousin, do you hear? — I don't swear. 
 But you should have heard Fieandt — how like 
 thunder and lightning he swore at Karstula! " 
 
 The Surgeon continued, without paying any 
 heed to the postmaster: 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 131 
 
 "Therefore, the history of all nations begins 
 with war; and soldier number one in the world's 
 first company was called Cain. But as war is as 
 old as the world, it is likely to exist as long as the 
 world stands. I do not believe in the nice new 
 ideas about an eternal peace. I think that so long 
 as people share the earth between them, so long as 
 human hearts retain selfish desires, they will be 
 subject to the curse of war. Believe me, eternal 
 peace consists in allowing people no longer to 
 fight so blindly, slavishly, and frantically as before, 
 but with glad courage, so that they may clearly 
 comprehend the reason why, and be able to swear 
 that their cause is a righteous one; for then they 
 can strike with right good will." 
 
 " That is to say, to fight for an idea," observed 
 the schoolmaster, thoughtfully. 
 
 " That is it, 'for an idea.' It is the honor of the 
 Finnish soldier that he has always fought for the 
 righteous object of defending his fatherland, with- 
 out making an attack upon another man's house. 
 Only once he went out to fight on foreign soil; and 
 our Lord mercifully ordained that it was for the 
 greatest and most righteous cause of all: namely, 
 to defend the pure evangelical faith and freedom 
 of conscience for the whole world. The Finn knew 
 this in the Thirty Years' War; and therefore his 
 efficiency. He felt within himself that his heart 
 was of the same as Gustaf Adolf's — who, as far as 
 I can see, was the greatest general who ever lived, 
 while he fought and gained victories for the great- 
 est cause worth bleeding for." 
 
 "Tell us a little more about Gustaf Adolf!" 
 exclaimed Andreas, who understood, of all that the 
 Surgeon had been saying, only this one name. 
 
 " Dear good uncle, a little more about Gustaf 
 
132 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 Adolf!" chimed in tie rest of the youngsters, 
 who, with the greatest effort, had been kept 
 within bounds by grandmother's stern looks and 
 by sister Anne Sophie. 
 
 " No, thank you; the great king is now dead, 
 and we will let him slumber in peace in the vault 
 of Riddarholm church. And if the story thus loses 
 much, it also gains something, namely: that the 
 rest of the personages become more prominent. 
 For hitherto we have scarcely had an eye for any- 
 thing but the hero king, and grandmother was 
 right in saying that our ears have been split by 
 the cannon. Thus it has happened that both Lady 
 Regina and the Jesuit, and especially Bertel, who 
 is the hero, have passed by like shadows without 
 life or substance. . . " 
 
 "And Katchen," interrupted the grandmother; 
 "for my part, I would like, best of all, to know 
 something more about this happy and well-man- 
 nered child. I will leave Regina alone; but this 
 much I will say: that such a black-haired wild-cat, 
 who can tear one's eyes out any minute, I would 
 not give much for." 
 
 "And the fine Count of Lichtenstein, whom we 
 have not seen since Wiirtzburg," added Anne 
 Sophie; "I predict that he will in the end become 
 Regina's betrothed." 
 
 "Aha! little cousin listens with delight to that 
 part of it! " rejoined the postmaster, with a sly 
 smile. " But I ask you, brother Back, not to busy 
 yourself with love-nonsense; let us rather hear 
 something more about Stalhandske, Lyydikain, the 
 little thick Larsson, and the Tavastlander Witik- 
 ka. How the devil did the man get along without 
 ears? I remember to this day, that on the 21st of 
 August there was a corporal at Karstula . . . " 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 133 
 
 " Brother Back," interrupted the schoolmaster, 
 who was always inexorable every time Karstula 
 was mentioned, " brother BSck, who has justitia 
 mundi., the sword of justice, in his hand, cannot 
 possibly fail to hoist the Jesuit Hieronymus up to 
 the top of the highest pine on the Hartz Moun- 
 tains." 
 
 " Take care, brother Svenonius," retorted the 
 postmaster, dryly; " the Jesuit was a very learned 
 man, who knew a great deal of Latin . . " 
 
 " I will tell you what I know about the Finns," 
 said the Surgeon; "but I assure you in advance 
 that it is altogether too little. Let us wait ten or 
 twenty years longer, when some diligent man will 
 take the pains to glean from the old chronicles our 
 brave countrymen's exploits. Until then we must 
 content ourselves with sketches, disjointed — and 
 perhaps a little fanciful," added the Surgeon, in so 
 low a tone as not to be heard by the little ones, 
 whose belief in the veracity of the story he did 
 not wish to disturb. 
 
 " And what became of the king's ring? " 
 
 " Why, that we will hear to - morrow even- 
 ing." 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A MAN FROM THE CLUB WAK. 
 
 AWAY toward the north, beyond the fertile 
 plains of Germany, is spread a stormy sea, 
 whose level changes with ebb and flow, whose 
 shores are covered every year with the ice of 
 ■winter, and whose open straits have sometimes 
 
134 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 borne entire armies on their floating bridges of 
 ice. For centuries, surrounding nations have 
 battled for the possession of this sea, and colored 
 its waves with their blood; but at the time of our 
 story, a single power, the most puissant in the 
 north, ruled over nine-tenths of its wide coasts. 
 The Baltic had become almost an inland sea in the 
 Swedish kingdom. 
 
 And the Baltic stretches its mighty blue arms 
 east and north, and folds in its tumultuous embrace 
 a daughter of the sea, a land of the waves which 
 had sprung up from its bosom, and, still increas- 
 ing, lifts her solid rocks high above her mother's 
 heart. Finland is the best-beloved child of the 
 Baltic. To this day she empties her treasures 
 into her mother's lap; and the mighty sea is not 
 uplifted by the ofi^ering, but draws lovingly and 
 tenderly back, like an indulgent mother, that the 
 daughter may grow, and every summer clothe with 
 grass and flowers new shores laid open to the day. 
 Happy the land which lulls in its bosom the waves 
 of a thousand lakes, and stretches a shore of nine 
 hundred miles toward the sea! The sea bears 
 power, freedom, well-being and culture; the sea is 
 the active civilizing element of earth; and a 
 country which has communication with the sea can 
 never stagnate in want and oppression, unless by 
 its own fault. 
 
 And far away in the north of Finland extends 
 a region which, more than any other, is the foster- 
 child of the sea; for from time immemorial its gen- 
 tle slopes have risen increasingly from the waves. 
 Innumerable green islands rise along these coasts. 
 " In my youth," says the gray - haired sailor, 
 " great ships floated here where now a boat is 
 rowed with difficulty;" and, a few years hence, 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 135 
 
 herds will graze on the former bottom of the sea. 
 The child at play loads its boat at the beach; look 
 around you, little one, and mark well the spot 
 where the waters trace their edges in the sand; 
 when you become a man you will seek that strand 
 in vain; far beyond the green plains you will hear 
 its murmur in the distance; and when you one 
 day stand there as an old man, a flourishing town 
 will appear on the spot once occupied by your 
 childhood's sea. Strange region, where the towns 
 which had so wisely built their harbors by the deep 
 bays and rivers, in two hundred years are miles 
 away from the outer roadstead, while vessel keels 
 and anchors are drawn up from the bogs fifty 
 miles inland! 
 
 This region is East Bothnia. Its area is 
 greater than that of many kingdoms; and it ex- 
 tends far up in the extreme north, to the borders 
 of Lapland, where the sun never sets at midsum- 
 mer, and never- rises during the Christmas dark- 
 ness. Three months of the year, nature is there 
 awake in the unbroken splendor of day, and then 
 you can read the finest print at midnight; three 
 months the night continues, but a night of stars 
 and boreal lights, a night of moonlight and glitter- 
 ing snow, frosty-clear, holy and solemn. The flow- 
 er's beauty is jnore perishable there than human 
 joy; seven months the plains are covered with 
 blinding snow, and the lakes with ice solid as the 
 ground; but never is spring more blithe than after 
 such a winter of frost — though this is mingled 
 with a melancholy which the heart well under- 
 stands. 
 
 Along the coast of this northern land live two 
 races, unmixed, and very unlike each other: a vari- 
 egated picture of national and local peculiarities 
 
136 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 of language, habits, and temperament, sharply 
 marked, from parish to parish; yet all present cer- 
 tain common traits: activity, energy, and a frank- 
 ness of demeanor which is peculiarly their own. 
 It is not a geographical chance that the greatest 
 and bloodiest battles in Finland's history have 
 been fought on the soil of East Bothnia. 
 
 Twenty-five miles east of Wasa, on the low 
 banks of Kyro River, lies Storkyro Parish, one of 
 the richest parishes in East Bothnia, whose gran- 
 ary it is. Here grows, in fertile clay soil, the 
 celebrated seed-rye which is shipped yearly in 
 great quantities to Sweden. The whole parish is 
 an almost unbroken plain of waving grain-fields, 
 from which arose the well-known saying that 
 " Storkyro fields and Limingo meadows have not 
 their like in length and breadth." The inhabitants 
 are Finns, of ancient Tavastlandish origin. Their 
 old leaning church, built in the year 1304, is one 
 of the oldest antiquities of the country. 
 
 It is there that we now invite the reader. 
 
 At the time of our story, this region was not 
 nearly as well cultivated as in later times. The 
 ravages of the Club War had retarded its pros- 
 perity, so that for a whole generation traces of 
 them were seen; while other hard wars, with 
 sweeping conscriptions, hindered time from heal- 
 ing these wounds. Therefore, in the summer of 
 1633, many a farm-house still stood desolate in the 
 edge of the woods; the grain fields stretched but a 
 little way from the banks of the river, and the 
 unhealthy fogs of the morass covered the country 
 when the nights were cool. The already-thinned 
 forests still yielded fuel for the tar-pits; part of 
 the peasantry fished among the Michael Islands; 
 and the pastor, Georgius Thomas Patur, did not 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 137 
 
 then, like his present successor, have a safe yearly 
 income of four thousand silver rubles. 
 
 It vras therefore that the eye lingered with 
 delight on Bertila's farm-house, in the vicinity of 
 the church, more imposing and better built than 
 any of the rest, and surrounded by the most 
 fertile fields. The summer had advanced to the 
 middle of August, and the harvesting had just 
 begun. More than sixty persons, men, women, 
 and children — for the East Bothnian peasant 
 women work out-doors the whole summer — were 
 diligently cutting the golden rye, which they 
 gathered into sheaves, and placed with skillful 
 hands in high, comely ricks. The day was warm, 
 and the stooping posture which the work required 
 was very tiresome; so it frequently happened that 
 some idler among the workers straightened him- 
 self up and threw longing glances at the soft turf 
 around the edge of the field, which seemed 
 especially interfded for a resting-place. But at 
 the same time he did not forget to glance timidly 
 at an old man in a wide gray homespun jacket, 
 evidently a kind of overseer. Whenever anyone 
 shirked a little, he heard his neighbor whisper, 
 "Larsson is coming! " which instantly had a mar- 
 vellous effect, not unlike a foretaste of the lash. 
 
 But Larsson — a little dumpy old man, between 
 whose thick beard and bushy eyebrows gleamed 
 an expression rather kind-hearted and good- 
 humored than severe — was at this moment busy 
 with one of the working women, who, on account 
 of the heat and the heavy work, had sunk fainting 
 on the ground. 
 
 To judge from her pale features, this woman 
 was no longer young; she had perhaps seen six- 
 and-thirty summers; but to judge from her slender 
 6* 
 
138 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 form, or the mild, warm expression of her blue 
 eyes, one could scarcely believe that she was 
 past twenty. Her whole figure bore the stamp 
 of rare but prematurely faded beauty, and of much 
 suffering and much submission. She had worn a fine 
 white flannel jacket, which was taken off on 
 account of the heat, disclosing sleeves of the 
 whitest linen, a red bodice, after the fashion of 
 the peasantry, with a short striped woolen skirt, 
 and a little checked handkerchief tied like a 
 bandage around her head, to keep up her long 
 flaxen hair. She had worked like all the others, 
 but her strength was not as great as theirs. She 
 had sunk down with the sickle in her hand; 
 and those nearest her had, with evident respect 
 and love, carried her to the soft grass, where they 
 tried, with a drink of fresh water from the spring, 
 to recall her to life. 
 
 " There now, Meri ! " (Emerentia) said old 
 Larsson, while with a fatherly sympathy he held 
 the fainting woman's head on his knees, and 
 bathed her temples with cold water; " there, my 
 child, don't be foolish now, and die from your old 
 friend; what joy would he then have on earth? . . 
 She doesn't hear me, poor child ! Where was 
 there ever such a father as hers? To force that 
 delicate creature to work in such a heat! Drink a 
 little — that's right . . . it is real good of you ; 
 now open your beautiful eyes again. Do not be 
 troubled, Meri; we will go up to the house. You 
 shall rest there, and need not work any more to- 
 day." 
 
 The pale and delicate woman tried to rise and 
 take up the sickle. " Thank you, Larsson," said 
 she, in a faint but melodious voice; "I feel better 
 now. I will work; father wishes it," 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 130 
 
 "Father wishes it! " ejaculated the little old 
 man, testily; "but you see I do not. I forbid you 
 to work; I do, Meri: and even if your father were 
 to turn me out of doors, and I had to go and beg 
 my bread, you should not work more to-day. Well, 
 well, dear child, don't take it- so hard; your father 
 is n't so stupid as all that; he cannot help under- 
 standing that you have n't arms like the rest of us. 
 You are not to be blamed for that; you take after 
 your dead mother, who was born a lady, and your 
 education in Stockholm. . . . There, there! come, 
 let us go home. Don't be stubborn, now, Meri!" 
 
 " Let go of me, Larsson; there he comes him- 
 self," exclaimed Meri, tearing herself loose and 
 grasping the sickle, with which she again began 
 to mow the golden straw. But as she bent down, 
 it grew dark before her eyes; and, for the second 
 time, she sank, pale and unconscious, between the 
 waving stalks. 
 
 At that moment the efforts of all the laborers 
 redoubled; for he approached in person, the stern 
 and dreaded master of Bertila farm. Like a dark 
 cloud, he came slowly along the path from the 
 house, a tall old man of seventy, as yet little bent 
 by age. His attire did not differ from that usually 
 worn by the peasants in summer-time: wide shirt- 
 sleeves, a long red-striped vest, short linen panta- 
 loons, blue stockings, and skillfully-made bark 
 shoes; but on his white head he wore a pointed 
 cap, knit of red yarn, the height of which gave his 
 tall figure a still loftier appearance. But in spite 
 of the simplicity of his costume, his whole exterior 
 was in the highest degree commanding. His tall 
 straight form, decided bearing, sharp, penetrating 
 look, and an habitual expression of resolution, love 
 of authority,'and severity, around the tightly-drawn 
 
140 TIMES OF GUS^TAF ADOLF. 
 
 upper lip, indicated at once the former political 
 leader and the rich and powerful land-owner, 
 accustomed to rule over many hundred subordi- 
 nates. On seeing this old man, one understood 
 why he was known in many adjacent parishes 
 under the name of " the Peasant King." 
 
 Old Aaron Bertila, cold and calm, approached 
 the spot where his only daughter lay in a fainting 
 fit. 
 
 " Put her in the hay- wagon, and take her up to 
 the house," ordered he; "she will be back to her 
 work in a couple of hours." 
 
 "But, Bertila," began Larsson, excitedly. 
 
 Bertila turned around with a glance before 
 which the other suddenly hushed; then he walked 
 on through the field as if nothing had happened, 
 observing with a sure eye the diligence of the 
 laborers, now blaming, now praising them; some- 
 times breaking off an ear, and examining closely the 
 number and weight of the grains. From the barn 
 one could overlook the whole great golden-yellow 
 harvest field — a new piece of ground, more than a 
 hundred acres in extent, lately reclaimed from the 
 swamp. The old man gazed with proud satisfac- 
 tion at this waving sea of grain; his bearing 
 became more erect, his chest expanded, and he 
 beckoned Larsson to him. 
 
 " Do you remember this tract as it was four- 
 and-thirty years ago? Then Fleming's cavalry 
 scoured the country like heathens; the village lay 
 in ashes, and the fields were tramped down by 
 horses' hoofs. Here, where we stand, close by the 
 village, was the wilderness; naked, half-burned 
 stumps stood between mud-puddles and quag- 
 mires; no road or path led hither; and even the 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 141 
 
 very wolves of the forest thought this place too 
 miserable to seek a den in it." 
 
 " I remember it well," replied Larsson, mo- 
 notonously. 
 
 " Now look around, old friend, and say, who 
 rebuilt this village from its ashes, more beautiful 
 than ever before? Who tilled this wilderness; 
 who made roads and paths; who measured the land; 
 who drained the morass; who ploughed this glori- 
 ously fertile soil; who sowed this whole field which 
 now waves in the wind, and will in a few days sup- 
 ply hundreds of human beings with its harvest? 
 Say, Larsson, who is the man who did this great 
 work?" and the old man's eyes shone with enthu- 
 siasm. 
 
 But the little dumpy person at his side seemed 
 to be filled with a different feeling. He took off 
 his old worn hat humbly, clasped his hands, and 
 said, earnestly. 
 
 " Nothing is he who sows; nothing is he who 
 waters; God alone gives the growth! " 
 
 Bertila, absorbed in thought, scarcely heard 
 him; and continued, without suspecting his mean- 
 ing: 
 
 "Yes, by Heaven! I have seen evil days, times 
 of want, misery, and despair, which the sword 
 brought upon the earth; and I have myself drawn 
 the sword to destroy my enemy's home, and I have 
 tried victory as well as defeat, both to my detri- 
 ment. Therefore I have a right to rejoice in the 
 work of peace. I know what the sword produces, 
 and what the plough achieves. In the steel of the 
 sword lurks an evil spirit, to revel in human blood 
 and tears: the sword kills, the sword destroys; but 
 the plough gives life and happiness. . . . You 
 see, Larsson, the plough has made this field. Over 
 
142 TIMES OP GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 there at Korsholm is the Finnish coat of arms, a 
 lion with a naked sword. Were I king, I should 
 say: 'Away with the sword, and here with the 
 plough! ' The plough is the true weapon of Fin- 
 land. If we have bread, we have plenty of arms; 
 if we have arms, we will drive our enemies from 
 our homes; but, without bread, Larsson, what good 
 is steel and powder to us? " 
 
 " Bertila," said Larsson, hesitatingly, " you are 
 a strange man. You hate soldiers and war; but 
 that I can easily understand: they burnt your farm, 
 and drove your first wife and her little children into 
 the woods to die. You yourself have fought at the 
 head of the peasantry, and barely escaped the 
 slaughter on Ilmola's ice. That such things are 
 not easily forgotten, I well understand; but what 
 I cannot comprehend is, that you, a friend of the 
 peasantry, a soldier-hater, first took me, an old 
 starving soldier, as overseer on your farm, then 
 equipped my Lasse — God save the boy! — for the 
 war, and finally sent your own grandson, Meri's 
 child, our little GQsta, yet beardless, into the field 
 among the king's cavalry." 
 
 Old Bertila's look darkened strangely. A 
 sensitive chord had been touched, and he glanced 
 shyly around, as if he feared a listener behind the 
 walls of the barn. 
 
 " "Who speaks to me of Meri's child?" said he, 
 in a low voice. " I know none other than my son 
 GOsta, born of my second wife during the journey 
 to Stockholm; and God be merciful unto you if 
 ever . . Let us forget that matter. Why I took 
 you? why I sent the boy into the field? Well, 
 . . . it does n't concern you." 
 
 " Well, then, keep it to yourself ; I know al- 
 ready more than I wish." 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 143 
 
 " Tell me, if you can, Larsson, what elements 
 are needed for an honest and Christian govern- 
 ment?" 
 
 Larsson looked at nim in silent astonishment. 
 
 "I will tell you. The sword is composed of 
 two parts: the blade and the handle. So likewise 
 for the plough two forces are necessary: one that 
 draws and one that drives. And two forces con- 
 joined form a Christian government: namely, the 
 people and the king. But that which comes be- 
 tween brings dissension and ruin ; it arrogates to 
 itself the king's power and the people's property. 
 It is a monster!" 
 
 " I know you hate the nobility." 
 
 "And therefore " — Bertila laid an emphasis on 
 his words, and uttered them with an almost ironical 
 smile, which seemed to turn his meaning into a jest 
 — " therefore, you see, my son must either be peas- 
 ant or king; nothing more, and nothing less! " 
 
 Larsson looked at him in dismay. He had not 
 imagined the depth of ambition which had hitherto, 
 deeply concealed, glowed in the old peasant's heart. 
 He did not dare to believe what he, not without rea- 
 son, considered the extreme of crazy presumption. 
 
 " You can certainly never hope," said he, tim- 
 idly, " that Meri's son, with his birth — " 
 
 The tall old man's eyes flashed, but the words 
 came almost inaudibly from his lips, as if he tried in 
 vain to struggle against an inner impulse, to express 
 for once, for the first and perhaps for the last time, 
 the bold thought which had for many years been 
 growing in his tempestuous soul. 
 
 " King Gustaf Adolf has only a daughter," said 
 he, at last, with a peculiar expression. 
 
 " Lady Christina. . . . Yes." 
 
144 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 " But the kingdom, in war with half the world, 
 will need, after his- death, a man on the throne." 
 
 " Bertila, what does this mean?" 
 
 " It means that in my childhood I heard the son 
 of King Erik and the peasant girl Karin declared 
 the successor to the crown," 
 
 "Are you out of your senses?" 
 
 Again an ironical smile flitted over the old 
 man's lips. 
 
 " Do you not understand," said he, coldly, "how 
 it is possible to hate soldiers and noblemen, and 
 yet send one's son to war as the shortest road to 
 distinction under a king's eyes? " 
 
 " I beg of you, Bertila, put aside such wild fan- 
 cies; you are a sensible man, when the spirit of 
 pride does not get possession of your restless 
 mind. Your plan will fail; it must fail." 
 
 " It cannot fail." 
 
 "How? It cannot fail?" 
 
 "No! Have I not told you that GOsta must be 
 either king or peasant? — which, I care not. If he 
 wishes to remain a peasant, as I am, so be it." 
 
 " But if he neither will nor can remain a peas- 
 ant? If he gets it into his head to become a 
 nobleman, to fight for a coat of arms? . . . 
 Remember that you have put him on the road to 
 a noble title. He is already, as an officer, a noble- 
 man's equal." 
 
 Bertila seemed lost in thought. 
 
 "No! " exclaimed he; "it is impossible. His 
 blood . . .his education . . . my will." 
 
 "His blood! then you no longer remember that 
 nobility flows in it from both sides? His education! 
 — and you sent him to Stockholm at twelve years 
 of age; you have allowed him to grow up among 
 young patricians whom he has daily heard express 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 145 
 
 scorn and contempt for the plebeian classes. Your 
 will ! — foolish father, to believe that you can, with 
 the word of authority, bend a youth's inclination 
 from the direction which such powerful influences 
 have given it ! " 
 
 The old man remained silent for a moment; 
 then he said, with forced calmness: 
 
 " Lar^son, you are a credulous fool; you take in 
 earnest what I joke about in a merry moment. I 
 will answer for the boy. Let us speak no more 
 about it. . . . But take care; — not a word of 
 what has been said ! Do you understand?" 
 
 "I am your old friend, Bertila. Since the mo- 
 ment when I, a horseman with Svidje Klas, helped 
 you to escape from Ilmola, you have repaid ine the 
 service many times over; I can never desert you. 
 But, you see, I love your children as my own — yes, 
 even more; I cannot bear to have you make the 
 boy unhappy. And Meri . . . Are you a father, 
 Bertila? How do you treat your child, your only 
 daughter, who complies with your smallest whim, 
 who does everything, by submission and obedience, 
 to atone for the fault of her youth? You treat her 
 harder than the lowest of your servant girls; you 
 let her, frail and weak, perform the heaviest tasks; 
 you see her sink to the ground, and you do not lift 
 up your own child. You are cruel, Bertila . . . 
 more than cruel; you are an inhuman father!" 
 
 "That is something you do not understand," 
 answered the old man, gloomily. " Such tender- 
 hearted fellows as you do not comprehend what it 
 means to follow one's way straight ahead, without 
 looking either to the right or to the left. Meri 
 takes after her mother. She has something of the 
 fine lady in her, and that must be uprooted. She 
 cannot become a queen, like Karin Mansdotter; 
 
 K 7 
 
146 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 well, then, she shall be a peasant woman, from top 
 to toe. King or people. ... I have said what I 
 think of the intermediate class, and now you under- 
 stand why I act as I do. Come, let us return to the 
 laborers." 
 
 " And Meri . . . spare her to-day, at least." 
 " She shall work like the rest this afternoon." 
 
 CHAPTER II. ; 
 
 ASHAMED OF THE PEASANT NAME. 
 
 THE cabin of the East Bothnian peasant is in 
 our time more spacious, lighter, and more 
 respectable in its whole appearance, than is found 
 in any other part of Finland. Sometimes it con- 
 sists of two stories, or has, at least, a garret; the 
 windows are often three panes in height. The 
 house is almost always painted, usually red, occa- 
 sionally with white cross-beams and window-shut- 
 ters; but now and then yellow oil painting is used. 
 The whole bears evidence of skill and prosperity, 
 due to the fact that the East Bothnian neither 
 builds such large and compact villages as the 
 Tavastlander and the Abo peasant, nor, except in 
 cases of necessity, such solitary farm-houses as the 
 rest of his countrymen. 
 
 At the time of our story, " smoke-huts " were 
 yet in general use among almost the whole Finnish 
 population; only peasants of Swedish origin used 
 fire-places with regular chimneys. But even then 
 were seen in the Finnish districts of East Bothnia, 
 nearest the coast, houses of more modern style, 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH 147 
 
 copied from their Swedish neighbors. The newly- 
 founded towns, which attracted the inland people 
 to the coast, had already begun to accustom them 
 to greater comfort; and the more wealthy the peas- 
 ant became, the sooner did his house, like his per- 
 son, assume a more improved aspect. It is true, 
 the extravagance which the sumptuary laws of the 
 sixteenth century so severely prohibited was found 
 only on the estates of the nobility and the wealthy 
 Abo burghers; the home-brewed ale foamed not 
 the less in the peasant's tankard, and Holland 
 spices were kept in his closet for festive occasions. 
 
 Ever since the flames of the Club War destroyed 
 the huts in Storkyro Village, the Swedish and 
 Finnish styles of building were seen peacefully 
 mingled together. Bertila's house, the largest and 
 richest in the village, was built entirely after the 
 new style: it had stairs, a front porch, and two lit- 
 tle chambers adjoining the large room, one for the 
 master and the other for his daughter. The rest of 
 the people on the place lived mostly together in the 
 large room; but now, in summer time, the younger 
 portion slept outside. At that period, the large 
 clock, with its blue and red case, which is now the 
 chief ornament in every wealthy farm-house, did 
 not exist. The large smoothly planed table, with 
 its high seat for the master of the house, stood, 
 surrounded by benches, by the innermost wall op- 
 posite the door. It was near the dinner time, and 
 in the large fire-place sputtered a porridge-kettle. 
 The room was as yet almost empty; a cat purred on 
 the bench; a girl of fourteen stirred the porridge; 
 and Meri sat, with a piece of knitting- work in her 
 hand, not far from the fire-place. 
 
 Poor Meri had recovered from her fainting- 
 fit, but was still very pale. Her long hair fell 
 
148 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 freely over her half-covered shoulders, and her look 
 was now and then directed shyly toward the door, 
 as if she feared every moment that her father would 
 enter. Then again she looked at her knitting- work. 
 She was making a scarf of the most beautiful colors, 
 and singing at the same time an old Swedish folk^ 
 song : 
 
 " My scarf with roses now I weave, 
 
 That shall my dearest friend receive ; 
 
 When from war's terrors to liis home 
 
 To me returning he shall come." 
 
 We have stated that Meri was no longer young. 
 The traces which suffering had left on her once 
 blooming cheeks told of many a year of sorrow; but 
 at this moment, when she looked at the scarf, her 
 face had an almost child-like expression of inner 
 satisfaction. It was evident that the work delight- 
 ed her, and that the friend she sang of was very 
 dear to her. Her life with her hard father had lit- 
 tle joy for her; but when her eyes fell on the scarf, 
 she seemed to read in its variegated figures a whole 
 future of quiet bliss. For this scarf she lived; the 
 thought was her only joy — an idolatrous joy — the 
 thought of her son! And again she was heard to 
 sing: 
 
 ' ' Here weave I pearls so fine 
 
 For this dear friend of mine; 
 
 No king upon his throne 
 
 Shall this scarf's equal own." 
 
 At that moment Bertila, the father, entered, fol- 
 lowed by Larsson and the whole gang of laborers. 
 The old husbandman's look was dark; he could not 
 conceal from himself that Larsson's predictions were 
 too likely to be fulfilled. His son a nobleman ! 
 This possibility, which in his eyes was a disgrace, 
 had up to this time never entered his mind. 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 140 
 
 The last words of Meri's song had just died away. 
 At her father's entrance she hid her scarf quickly 
 under her apron; but the old man's suspicious eye 
 detected the secret. 
 
 " Do you sit there dreaming again, you idler, in- 
 stead of serving the porridge !" exclaimed he, in a 
 hard tone. " What have you in your apron ? Out 
 with it!" 
 
 Meri was obliged to show the half-finished scarf, 
 her precious secret, before the eyes of all. The 
 father looked at it a moment with contempt; then 
 he tore it in two and threw it into the corner. 
 
 " I have told you many a time," said he, coldly, 
 " that an honest peasant woman has nothing to do 
 ■with such nonsense, suited only to the nobility. 
 Let us say grace." 
 
 And the old man folded his hands, according to 
 ancient custom, while all the others followed his 
 example. But before the prayer passed any one's 
 lips, Larsson stepped into the middle of the floor. 
 His usually good-humored face flamed with indig- 
 nation, and the honest and frank accent of his 
 voice made every one forget to laugh at his little 
 round figure. 
 
 " You ought to blush, Bertila," said he, " to 
 scold your own daughter before all the folks ! She 
 works like a slave night and day, more than any of 
 us; and you call her an idler ! I tell you to your 
 face, master of the house as you are, although I eat 
 your bread, and without it have scarcely anything 
 but a beggar's staff, that such an unjust father is 
 not worthy of sogood a daughter; and rather than 
 see this misery day out and day in, I prefer to go 
 and beg my bread. But you will have to answer, 
 before our Lord, for your child. And now say your 
 grace if you can; and may the food taste good to 
 
150 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 you. Farewell, Bertila; I will not endure this life 
 any longer." 
 
 " Turn the boorish fellow, who defies his mas- 
 ter, out of doors !" burst out Bertila, with unusual 
 violence. 
 
 No one stirred from the spot. For the first time 
 in his life the old peasant king saw his commands 
 disobeyed. 
 
 " Dear master," began the oldest of the labor- 
 ers, " we, and all the folks, think just so . ." 
 
 A powerful blow from the master stretched the 
 speaker on the floor before he had time to finish. In 
 vain did Larsson offer to go; in vain did Meri try 
 to intercede; so strong was the sense of justice in 
 this people, that they all, not from preconcerted 
 action, but from their own conviction of the right, 
 arrayed themselves, as one man, against the mas- 
 ter's tyranny. Fourteen muscular men stood erect 
 and resolute before the enraged Bertila, whose tail 
 figure towered threateningly in the midst of the cir- 
 cle. One more stroke of his fist, and they would all 
 have left his service, and perhaps shut him up in 
 the little chamber until his anger should have sub- 
 sided; for the higher to the north the Finnish peas- 
 ant lives, the more sensitive is he to blows. Ber- 
 tila knew his people, and wisely understood that his 
 hfat had led him too far. He sought some means 
 of getting out of the difficulty without too great hu- 
 miliation. 
 
 " What is it you want ?" asked he, regaining 
 self-possession. 
 
 Those spoken to looked at each other. 
 
 " You are wrong, master," said one of the bold- 
 est, at last ; " you have scolded Meri undeserved- 
 ly; you have wished to turn Larsson out of the 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 151 
 
 house, and have struck Simon; you have done 
 wrong !" 
 
 " Meri, come here !" 
 
 She went to him. 
 
 " You are no longer a child, Meri. If you can 
 not endure to live with your father in his old age, 
 then you are at liberty to stay on my farm atllmo- 
 la. You are free; go, my child !" 
 
 Bertila knew his daughter. Those few words, 
 " Go, my child !" uttered in a milder tone than she 
 was accustomed to hear, were sufficient to soften her 
 heart. 
 
 "Do not send me away, father," said she. "I 
 never will forsake you." 
 
 This reply caused her defenders to waver, and 
 the old man saw his advantage. 
 
 " Here with the catechism !" cried he, in a thun- 
 dering voice. 
 
 The fourteen-years-old Greta stepped up with 
 the book, as was the custom on sacred days, and 
 read aloud : 
 
 " Ye servants, obey your temporal masters with 
 fear and trembling, in the simplicity of your hearts. 
 Ye servants, be submissiveto your masters in all 
 fear, not only the good and the mild, but also the 
 unworthy." 
 
 These timely words did not fail of their effect. 
 Bertila and his people lived at a period when the 
 power of the master and father retained all its orig- 
 inal and stern sanctity in essence, and not merely 
 in title; a power "by the grace of God." The well- 
 known words impressed upon them from childhood, 
 the old man's commanding assurance, and Meri's 
 example of complete submission to the paternal 
 rule, all conspired to pacify the lately excited minds, 
 and the revolt was quelled. 
 
153 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 Grace was said. Each one took his seat with- 
 out further murmurings; only the oldLarsson stood, 
 gloomy and hesitating, with his hand on the latch. 
 
 Then the door suddenly opened and a stranger 
 entered. The new-comer was a bearded soldier, in 
 a broad-brimmed hat decorated with a -gracefully 
 fastened eagle plume. He wore a yellow woollen 
 jacket, with a girdle, and a long sword at his side ; 
 he had short top-boots, and held a cudgel in his 
 hand. 
 
 "Well, by Saint Lucifer!" exclaimed he, mer- 
 rily; "I come as' if I were invited. God's peace, 
 peasants! Make room at table; I am hungry as 
 a monk during mass, and can't get to the parsonage 
 in this cursed heat. Have you any beer?" 
 
 The old man in the high seat, whose mind was 
 yet in a tumult under the calm surface, rose half- 
 way, but seated himself again. 
 
 " Sit down, countryman," said the old man, 
 mildly. "Aaron Bertila's table has also a place for 
 self-invited guests." 
 
 "Aha! " continued the new-comer, as he helped 
 himself without any ceremony, apparently accus- 
 tomed to look out for number one. "Aha, so you 
 are Bertila! Glad to hear it, comrade! Honor for 
 honor; I will then tell you that I am Bengt Kris- 
 terson, from Limingo, sergeant in His Majesty's 
 brave East Bothnian regiment, and sent here to 
 superintend the conscription. A little more ale in 
 the mug, peasants. Well, well, be not afraid, girls, 
 I won't bite. . . . Bertila," continued the soldier, 
 with his mouth full; "what the devil! — is it you, 
 peasant, who are Lieutenant Bertel's father?" 
 
 " I do not know that name," answered the old 
 man, piqued by the soldier's patronizing manner. 
 
 ■"Are you crazy, old fellow? Do you not know 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 153 
 
 Gustaf Bertel, who only half a year ago called 
 himself Bertila?" 
 
 "My son! my son!" exclaimed the old man, 
 •with a heart-rending voice. " Unhappy father 
 that I am! He is ashamed of his peasant name! " 
 
 " Peasant name! " repeated the jolly sergeant, 
 with such an immoderate laugh that the ale jug 
 jumped about on the table. " Have you also 
 names, peasants? Well, I declare if I don't 
 feel like getting rid of mine! You are a bright 
 chap, old fellow . . . tell me what the devil do 
 you need a name for?" And with this he looked 
 at his host with such good-natured impudence that 
 the insulting words were considerably modified. 
 
 The old Bertila scarcely honored him with a 
 glance. 
 
 " Fool that 1 was! I sent out a beardless boy, 
 and thought I sent a man," added he, gloomily, to 
 himself. 
 
 But the sergeant, who perhaps had taken a dram 
 before, and had now peeped far down into the jug, 
 did not seem inclined to drop a good subject. 
 
 " Don't look so fierce, old boy," continued he, 
 in the same tone. " You 'peasants associate so 
 much with oxen and sheep that you become just 
 like them. Jf you were a bit civil, you would have 
 sent a pretty girl to fill my jug. It is empty, you 
 see — empty as your cranium. But you turnip- 
 peelers don't appreciate the honor which is con- 
 ferred upon you in having a royal sergeant for a 
 guest. You.see, old fellow, a soldier in these times 
 is everything; he has a name that rings, because he 
 has a sword that rings. But you, old ploughshare, 
 have nothing but porridge in your head and a 
 turnip in your breast. Fill your mug, old fellow; 
 here's to the brave Lieutenant Bertel's success! 
 
154 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 Do you refuse to drink the health of an honest 
 soldier? . . . Out upon you, peasant!" And 
 the sergeant, in the consciousness of his dignity, 
 made bold to strike his fist upon the table with 
 such force that the wooden platters danced about, 
 and even the large wooden bowls seemed disposed 
 to make for the floor with all their contents. 
 
 The first effect of this martial joke was that six 
 or eight of the men rose from the benches, and 
 seemed ready to teach the uninvited guest respect 
 for the peasantry in a manner that would make it- 
 self felt. But the old Bertila prevented them. 
 He had risen with apparent composure, approached 
 the sergeant with a firm step, and without uttering 
 a single word in reply, seized him by the neck with 
 the left hand, placed the right on his back, lifted 
 him from his seat, and carrying the good Bengt 
 Kristerson to the door, threw him on a pile of 
 shavings at the foot of the steps. So confounded 
 was the jolly sergeant at this unexpected grasp, 
 that he scarcely moved his sinewy arm to defend 
 himself; in which event his seventy-year-old ad- 
 versary could scarcely have come off victorious. 
 
 " Go! " cried Bertila, after him, " and keep your 
 welcome in remembrance of the Storkyro peas- 
 ants! " 
 
 Nothing makes so strong an impression on hu- 
 man nature as a resolute courage joined with a 
 strong arm. When the old man again entered the 
 room, he was surrounded by his people with admir- 
 ation bordering on enthusiasm. Forgotten was all 
 the animosity which had just before placed master 
 and servants in a hostile atdtude toward each other. 
 The rivalry between the sword and the plough is as 
 old as the world. The Club War, which had re- 
 sulted from this rivalry, and considerably increased 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 155 
 
 it, was still fresh in memory. These peasants, 
 whose independent minds never bent, like many of 
 their countrymen, beneath the oppression of their 
 land-holders, saw with delight their human worth 
 defended against a soldier's arrogance. They for- 
 got, at this moment, that perhaps before long more 
 than one of them would don the soldier's cloak to 
 fight for his fatherland. Even the old peasant 
 chief, elated over his srfccessful exploit, had got 
 over his bad humor. For the first time in a long 
 period of years, they saw a smile on his lips; and 
 when the meal was over he began to relate to them 
 some of his former adventures. 
 
 "Never can I forget how W3 cudgeled the 
 rascal Abraham Melchiorson, the man who, here in 
 Kyro, seized our best peasants, and had them 
 broken on the wheel, like malefactors. With 
 fifty men he had gone up north. It was winter- 
 time. He was a fine gentleman, who got the 
 snuffles, from the cold, and rode so grandly in a 
 splendid wolf-skin cloak. But when he approached 
 Karleby Church, we hid ourselves in the bushes, 
 and came upon him like Jehu; beat twenty-two of 
 his men to death, and pommeled him blaok-and- 
 blue. But every time he expected a rap, he drew 
 his wolf-skin cloak over his ears, and thus no club 
 could reach the traitor. ' Wait,' said Hans Krank, 
 from Limingo, who led us; 'that wolf we will yet 
 whip out of his skin.' With this he drubbed 
 Abraham so vigorously that he was obliged to let 
 go his splendid fur. Krank^had nothing on but a 
 jacket, and it was cold enough, God knows; he 
 thought the fur cloak a very nice thing, and drew 
 it, unobserved, over his own shoulders. But, as all 
 this occurred in the twilight, the others did not 
 notice that Krank had crept into the wolf-skin 
 
156 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 but began again, with fresh courage, to belabor the 
 same cloak, to which we had got used; and it is 
 very certain that Krank had a warm drubbing that 
 time. But Abraham Melchiorson became so light 
 and agile, after he had got rid of his cloak, that he 
 took to his heels, and ran in his jacket several miles 
 to HusO Farm, where Saka Jakob, from Karleby, 
 caught him, and the rascal was brought to Stock- 
 holm; but he did not have a chance to lament long 
 for his wolf-skin cloak before the duke made him a 
 head shorter." 
 
 "Yes," said Larsson, who usually took the part 
 of Fleming and his people, " that time you had the 
 upper hand. Eleven soldiers had remained alive, 
 but feigned death; you stripped them to their bare 
 bodies, and at midnight they crept, half-frozen, to 
 the chorister's cottage, and were taken in. But the 
 next morning you would bury them, living, under 
 the ice, as you did at Lappfjard River. You were 
 wolves, and not human beings. The river was so 
 shallow that you were obliged to push the men 
 down in the ice-hole with poles when they tried to 
 resist. Your women beat them on the head with 
 their buckets." 
 
 "Hold your tongue, Larsson! you don't know 
 all that Svidje-Klas has done," answered Bertila, 
 irritated. "I say nothing about all those whom he 
 and his people killed or broke on the wheel. But 
 do you remember Severin Sigfridson, at Sorsan- 
 koski? When he had surrounded the peasants, he 
 commanded his orderly to behead them one by one; 
 but the man had not strength for more than twen- 
 ty-four, and told the fine lord to behead the rest 
 himself. Then the gentleman got angry, and made 
 the peasants first cut the orderly into five pieces, 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH 157 
 
 and then do the same to each other, until only one 
 was left." 
 
 "But how did you act, mad brutes, on Peter 
 Gumse's farm? Your people sacked the house, 
 broke all the windows, slaughtered the cattle, and 
 set the cut-off heads, with their mouths wide open, 
 as scarecrows in the window. Then the beams 
 were sawed three-quarters through, so that when 
 the inmates returned the whole house would tum- 
 ble on their heads. And when you caught any 
 horseman, you made him a target for your arrows." 
 
 "It isn't worth while for you to take Svidje- 
 Klas'part. Do you remember the woman to whom 
 one of Axel Kurk's men came, and killed her chil- 
 dren before her own eyes? The poor mother could 
 not stand it, but she and her half-grown daughter 
 seized the drunken brute around the waist, beat 
 him on the head with a pole, and then pushed him, 
 half-fainting, under the ice. Then came Svidje- 
 Klas, and cut the woman in two." 
 
 " Idle talk, which has never been proven," re- 
 plied Larsson, grufBy. 
 
 "The dead keep silent, like good childrerf. The 
 five thousand slain at Ilmola tell no tales." 
 
 "Rather than molest the sergeant, you should 
 have asked him for news from your son and mine," 
 resumed Larsson, to get away from their usual sub- 
 ject of contention, the fatal Club War. 
 
 "Yes. . . . You are right. I must know 
 something more about the boys and the war. I am 
 going to Wasa to-morrow." 
 
 "Is he coming home soon?" asked Meri, shyly. 
 
 "GSsta — he will take his own time," replied 
 the father, angrily. " He has now become a noble- 
 man, who feels ashamed of his old father. . . He 
 blushes for the peasant name." 
 
158 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE SOUTHBENER IN THE NOETH. 
 
 THE coast of Finland stretches due north 
 until, a few miles south of Wasa, at about 
 the sixty-third degree of latitude, it makes a de- 
 cided curve toward the north-east. The great blue 
 Bothnian Gulf follows the same direction, narrow- 
 ing for a moment in the Qvark, then widening 
 again, and leaning its high brow against Finland's 
 breast. With greater freedom than elsewhere, the 
 winds from the Arctic Ocean sweep against these 
 coasts, driving between the islands, and beating 
 the waves with terrible violence against the rocks. 
 In the midst of this stormy sea lie Gadden's bare 
 flat ledges, with their warning light-house and 
 their far-projecting reefs. When the mountain 
 winds shake their wings over these dangerous 
 breakers, then woe unto the vessel which, without 
 a sure rudder and tightly furled sails, ventures 
 through the narrow passage at Understen: its 
 destruction is certain. But in mid-summer it 
 frequently happens that a light northern wind is 
 the most welcome, promising clear skies with fine 
 weather. Then fly the many hundred sails from 
 the coasts out toward Qvark's islands and reefs; 
 the nets are cast for shoals of herring; and the 
 restless, murmuring sea frolics like a loving mother 
 with her daughters, the verdant islands, nestling at 
 her bosom. 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. ]59 
 
 With the exception of Aland, no part of Fin- 
 land's wide coast is so rich with luxuriant islands 
 as Qvark and its neighboring east shore. These 
 innumerable islets and holms, of which the largest 
 are Wallgrund and BjOrkb, are here sprinkled 
 about, like drops of green in the blue expanse, and 
 form a peculiar collection — Replot parish — inhab- 
 ited only by fishermen. So numerous are these 
 groups, so infinitely varied the soutids, so labyrin- 
 thine the channels, that in the Michel islands, a 
 group consisting of several hundred, a strange ves- 
 sel could not find its way out unless a native pilot 
 was at the helm. Thirty cruisers would here be 
 insufficient to prevent smuggling; there is only one 
 means of putting a stop to this hereditary sin of the 
 coast, and this means — a light tariff with few pro- 
 hibitions — Finland, during late years, has tried 
 with success and great advantage. 
 
 At the period described in the preceding chap- 
 ter (the middle of August, 1632), the waters of the 
 Baltic were plowed by the royal Swedish war-brig, 
 " Maria Eleonora," bound from Stockholm to Wasa, 
 to transport the recruits conscripted in East Both- 
 nia for the German war. It was a clear and beau- 
 tiful summer morning. Over the wide sea played 
 that indescribable glitter which has something at 
 once so grand and so enchantingly beautiful. A 
 boundless field of snow, illumined by the spring 
 sun, can rival it in splendor ; but the snow is still- 
 ness and death, the shimmering wave motion and 
 life. A sea at rest in its resplendence is grandeur 
 clothed in the smile of delight; it is a slumbering 
 giant who dreams of sunbeams and flowers. Gent- 
 ly heaves his breast; then the plank rocks under 
 thy feet and thou treniblest not; he could swallow 
 thee up in his abyss, but he mildly spreads his sil- 
 
160 ■ TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 ver carpet under the keel, and he, the strong one, 
 bears the frail bark like a child in his arms. 
 
 It was immediately after sunrise. On board 
 the vessel there prevailed the monotonous silence of 
 sea life durinsf the morning watch, when no danger 
 is apprehended. A part of the crew were still 
 asleep below deck; only the mate, wrapped in a 
 jacket of Dutch frieze, promenaded back and forth 
 on the aft deck. The helmsman stood motionless 
 at the rudder, the man at the round- top peered 
 no'selessly ahead, and here and there on the for- 
 ward deck were seen sailors, now fastening a loose 
 rope end, now mending a pair of boots, now carry- 
 ing wood to the galley, now polishing the cannon 
 which were to salute Korsholm when they entered 
 port. 
 
 The stern discipline of a modern man-of-war 
 was at that time almost unknown. There were 
 neither uniforms nor whistles, nor aught of that 
 system of signals and commands which is now car- 
 ried to such perfection. A man-of-war scarcely 
 diffei ed from a merchant vessel except in size, 
 armament, and the number of the officers and crew. 
 When one remembers that at that time there were 
 neither whiskey nor coffee on board as a solace 
 against the chill morning air — (they had, however, 
 already learned froih the Dutch to use an occasion- 
 al quid of tobacco for this purpose) — then it is readi- 
 ly seen that sea life on the "• Maria Eleonora" bore 
 very little resemblance to that on one of our mod- 
 ern men-of-war. 
 
 By the green gunwale of the deck stood two fe- 
 male figures, wrapped in ample travelling hoods of 
 black wool. One of these passengers was small in 
 stature, and showed under the hood an old wrink- 
 led face, with a pair of blinking gray eyes; she had 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 161 
 
 bundled herself up in a thick wadded cloak of Nu- 
 remberg cloth. The other figure was tall and slen- 
 der, and ■wore a tight-fitting capote of black velvet 
 lined with ermine. Leaning against the gunwale, 
 she regarded with gloomy thoughtfulness the re- 
 ceding waves and the vessel's glistening wake. 
 Her features could not be seen from the deck; but 
 if one could have caught her image in the mirror- 
 ing wave, it would have revealed a classically beau- 
 tiful face, irradiated by two black eyes which in 
 lustre surpassed the shining wave-mirror itself. 
 
 " Holy Mary !" exclaimed the old woman vol- 
 ubly, in strongly accented Low-German. " When 
 will all this misery, which the saints have imposed 
 upon us on account of our sins, come to an end ? 
 Tell me, little lady, in what part of the world are 
 we now ? It seems to me as if it were a whole 
 year since we sailed from Stralsund, for since we 
 left the heretic Stockholm I have no longer kept an 
 account of the days. Every morning when I arise 
 I recite seven woes and seven pater nosters, which 
 the reverend Father Hieronymus taught us as a pro- 
 tection against ghosts and evil witchcrafts. Who 
 knows but that the world here comes to an end, 
 when we have reached so far from the domain of 
 the holy true believing church and Christian peo- 
 ple! This sea has no limit — oh the horrible sea ! I 
 now appreciate the river Main which flowed so 
 peacefully beneath our little turret window in 
 WUrtzburg. Say, little lady, what if over there 
 at the horizon was the end of the earth and we 
 should go with full sails right into purgatory ?" 
 
 The tall, slender young girl in the velvet capote 
 did not seem to listen to the loquacious duenna's ef- 
 fusive words. Her dark, brilliant eyes, under their 
 long black lashes, rested pensively on the sea as if 
 L 7* 
 
163 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 to read in its waves the interpretation of her heart's 
 dreams. And when at times a long swell from for- 
 mer storms rolled under the little waves, and the 
 ship gently careened, so that the guard neared the 
 water and the mirrored image in the sea approach- 
 ed the girl on board, then a smile of mingled mel- 
 ancholy and pride passed over the beautiful pale 
 features, and her lips moved almost inaudibly to 
 confide her innermost thoughts to the wave : 
 
 " It is only the great and majestic in life that 
 deserve to be loved /" 
 
 Then she added, transported by this thought : 
 
 " Why should not I love a great man ?" 
 
 And she whispered these words with an un- 
 bounded enthusiasm. But instantly a shudder ran 
 through her delicate frame, a dark flash shot through 
 the glimmering enamel of her black eyes, and she 
 uttered, almost trembling : 
 
 " It is only the great arid majestic in life that 
 deserve to be hated ! . . . Why should I not 
 hate . . ." 
 
 She did not finish the sentence; she bent her 
 head against the guard; the flash in her eyes dis- 
 appeared, leaving in its stead a moist tear. Two 
 hostile spirits contended for this passionate soul. 
 One said to her: "Xowe/" the other: ''Hate! " And 
 her heart bled under the terrible struggle between 
 the angel and the demon. 
 
 It is unnecessary to mention, what the reader 
 has probably already divined, that the slender 
 young girl on board the "Maria Eleonora" was 
 none other than Lady Regina von Emmeritz, the 
 beautiful fanatic who in Frankfort-on-the-Main 
 tried to convert Gustaf Adolf to the Catholic 
 faith. The king, who knew the human heart, had 
 not without reason considered this fanatical girl 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 163 
 
 capable of anything if longer left a prey to the in- 
 fluence of the Jesuits. He had therefore, not from 
 revenge, which was foreign to his great soul, but 
 from noble compassion for a young and richly en- 
 dowed nature, resolved to send her for a time to a 
 distant land, where she could no longer be reached 
 . by the influence of gloomy monks. 
 
 The reader will remember that the king ex- 
 pressed this intention on the memorable night 
 after the festival of the Frankfort burghers; and 
 later in the summer Lady Regina was sent, by the 
 way of Stralsund and Stockholm, to the stern old 
 Lady Martha Ulfsparre, at Korsholtn. The noble 
 king did not suspect that the demoniacal power 
 from whose claws he wished to save his beautiful 
 prisoner followed her even to Finland's remote 
 shores; for Lady Regina had been allowed to choose 
 for her companion the one of her waiting- women in 
 whom she felt the most confidence, and she chose, 
 not the light-hearted blonde KStchen, her good 
 genius, who was sent away to her home in Bavaria, 
 but the old Dorthe, her nurse, who, secretly in the 
 service of the Jesuits, had long nourished the fire 
 of fanaticism in the young girl's soul. Thus the 
 poor unprotected girl was given up to the dark 
 power which, ever "since her earliest childhood, had 
 perverted her rich and sensitive heart with its 
 dreadful teachings. And against this power she 
 could only oppose a single but powerful feeling — 
 her admiration, her fanatical love for Gustaf Adolf, 
 whom she loved and hated at the same time, whom 
 she would have been able to kill, and yet for whom 
 she would herself have suffered death. 
 
 The shrewd Dorthe seemed to guess her mis- 
 tress's thoughts; she leaned forward, winked with 
 
164 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 her small eyes, and said, in the familiar tone which 
 a subordinate in her position so easily assumes: 
 
 "Oh ho! Is that the way it stands? Do they 
 again come up, the sinful thoughts about the here- 
 tic king and all his followers? Yes, yes, the devil 
 is cunning; he knows what he is about. When he 
 wishes to catch a little frivolous girl of the common 
 sort, he places before her eyes a young blooming 
 dandy with long and well-curled locks and cavalier 
 appearance. When he wishes to entangle a poor 
 forsaken girl with great proud thoughts and noble 
 aspirations, then he clothes himself in the form of 
 a magnificent victor, who gains castles and battles; 
 and little does the poor child care that the fine 
 conqueror is a sworn enemy to her church and 
 faith, and is working for the ruin of both." 
 
 Regina turned her tearful and glistening eyes 
 away from the sea, and looked for a moment with 
 distrust at the old counsellor. 
 
 " Say," said she, almost violently, " is it possible 
 to be at once an angel of magnanimity and a mon- 
 ster of wickedness? Is it possible to be at once 
 the greatest and the most despicable of human be- 
 
 9" 
 
 ings.' 
 
 Regina again looked toward the sea. The 
 peaceful tranquillity of the morning rested on the 
 glittering waters, and stilled the tempest within 
 her. The young girl remained silent. Dorthe 
 continued: 
 
 " ' By their fruits shall ye know them.' Think, 
 what evil has hot the godless king done our church 
 and us? He has slain many thousands of our 
 warriors; he has plundered our cloisters and 
 castles; he has driven out our nuns and holy 
 fathers from their godly habitations, and the de- 
 vout father Hieronymus has been frightfully abused 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 165 
 
 by his people, the heretic Finns. Us he has driven 
 away in exile to the ends of the earth. . . . " 
 
 Again Regina looked over at the islands and the 
 inlets, bathed in their mild morning glory. When 
 the dark demon whispered hatred in her ears, ra- 
 diant nature seemed to preach only love. On her 
 lips hovered the transporting thought: " What 
 matters it if he has slain' thousands, if he has 
 driven out monks and nuns, if he has driven us, 
 ourselves, into exile; what matters all this, if he is 
 great as a man, and acts according to the dictates 
 of his faith?" But she kept silent from fear; she 
 dared not break with all her preceding life. She 
 caught up, instead, one of Dorthe's words, as if to 
 dispel the cloud of hatred and malediction which, 
 Tvith its dark mist, enveloped her heart in the midst 
 of this peaceful and lovely picture of a sea in the 
 fresh splendor of a summer morning. 
 
 " Do you know, Dorthe," said she, "that the 
 Finns whom you hate live on the coa§t of this sea? 
 Do you see the strip of land over there in the east? 
 It is Finland. I have not yet seen its shores, and 
 yet I cannot detest a country which is bathed by 
 so glorious a sea. I cannot tjiink that evil people 
 can grow up in the heart of such a nature." 
 
 " All saints protect us !" exclaimed the old 
 woman, while her lean hand hastily made the sign 
 of the cross. "Is that Finland? Saint Patrick 
 preserve us from ever setting foot on its cursed 
 soil ! Dear lady, you have, then, never beard what 
 is said of this land and its heathen people ? There 
 an eternal night prevails; there the snow never 
 melts; there the wild beasts and the still wilder hu- 
 man beings lie together, like brothers and sisters, 
 in dens and caves. The woods are so filled with 
 hobgoblins and imps that when one of them is called 
 
166 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 by name a hundred monsters immediately creep 
 forth from the leaves and branches. And people 
 bewitch each other with all kinds of evils, chang- 
 ing their enemy into a wolf; and every word they 
 speak becomes real, so that when they wish to make 
 a boat or an axe, they say the word and directly 
 they have what they utter." 
 
 " That is a pretty picture which you draw," said 
 Begina, smiling for the first time in many weeks, 
 for the freshness of the sea had a good influence on 
 her dreamy soul. "Happy is the laud where peo- 
 ple can create whatever they wish for with a 
 single word. If I am hungry and desire beautiful 
 fruit, I have but to say, peach I and right away I 
 have it. If I feel thirsty, I say, spring ! and in- 
 stantly a spring gurgles at my feet. If I have sor- 
 row in my heart, 1 say, hope ! and hope returns; 
 and if I long for a beloved friend, I mention his 
 name, and he stands at my side. A glorious land 
 is Finland, were it such as you represent it to me. 
 Even if we lived with wild beasts in a cave, under 
 the eternal snow, we would look at each other and 
 say. Fatherland ! and at the same moment we 
 would sit hand-in-hand on the banks of the Main, 
 beneath the shadow of the lindens, where we often 
 satwhen I was a child, and the nightingales of our 
 native land would sing blithely for us as before." 
 Dorthe turned angrily away. The vessel now 
 steered its course between the rocks and islands, 
 moved with gentle speed past the outermost reefs,, 
 of which many that now stand high above the sur- 
 face of the water were at that time washed by the 
 briny wave. 
 
 " Wha,t is the name of the long richly-wooded 
 stretch of land to the left ?" asked Begina of the 
 helmsman, standing near. 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 167 
 
 " Wolf's Island," answered the man. 
 " There you hear it yourself, dear lady," exclaim- 
 ed Dorthe. « Wolf's Island ! That is the first 
 name we hear on Finland's coast, and that shows 
 us what we have to expect." 
 
 The vessel now turned to the north, sailed be- 
 tween LangskSr and Sundomland, again veered 
 oiF toward the east, passed Brando, went smoothly 
 over the shoals which now exclude large vessels 
 from these waters, into Wasa's then superb harbor, 
 and saluted with sixteen cannon-shots the ramparts 
 of Korsholm. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PEASANT, BUEGHEK, AND SOLDIEE. 
 
 IT was decided, as a mark of re-established 
 friendship between father and daughter, that 
 when Aaron Bertila should seat himself in his 
 handsome cart, for a day's travel to Wasa, Meri 
 should take a seat by his side, in order that she 
 might purchase, in town, herrings, hops, and a few 
 spices, such as ginger and cinnamon, which were 
 already making their appearance in the houses of 
 the wealthier peasants. Both father and daughter 
 had their own plans concerning that journey; but 
 neither wished to acknowledge to the other that it 
 was news from Germany that each especially 
 sought. Larsson had in the meantime been charged 
 with the general supervision over the work at home. 
 It was just at the time when Gustaf Adolf and 
 Wallenstein stood opposite each other at Nurem- 
 berg. Soldiers were needed more than ever, and 
 Oxenstjerna wrote letter after letter from Saxony, 
 
168 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 to hasten the arrival of additional reinforcements. 
 Notwithstanding the height of the harvest season, 
 the v^ar, vyhich vcas also in the height of its har- 
 vesting, caused a great number of the conscripts 
 from the neighboring villages to stream down to 
 Wasa, from thence to be transported to Stockholm, 
 and so on to meet Wallenstein's threatening hosts 
 in Germany. 
 
 At that time the military drill was not nearly so 
 complicated and difficult as now: to stand passably 
 well in the ranks, to rush straight upon the enemy 
 at the first command, to afm surely (as the East 
 Bothnians had learned to do in the seal-hunts), and 
 to hew down manfully, — these were the chief 
 things. And thus one can understand that many 
 of tiiese peasant boys, just taken from the plough, 
 had sufficient time to fall with honor at the side of 
 their king on the battle-field of Lutzen. 
 
 The town of Wasa was then only twenty years 
 old, and much smaller in extent than now, not 
 merely on account of its youth, but also because 
 Korsholm fields, which belonged to the crown, hin- 
 dered all extension on the south side. Around the 
 old Mustasaari church, on the northern extremity 
 of Kijpman and Stora streets, were a few compact 
 rows of newly-built one-story houses, painted red, 
 with six or eight insignificant shops. Along the 
 quays stood store-houses, and the neighborhood 
 around was filled with fishermen's and sailors' 
 huts in scattered groups — for regular plans and 
 straight streets were considered by the architects 
 of the sixteenth century rather superfluous, and the 
 closer people built their houses together the safer 
 they considered themselves in unquiet times. 
 
 A borough, as Wasa then was, regarded itself 
 as one common family; and as a compensation for 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. ]U9 
 
 the insignificance of their own dwellings, the in- 
 habitants looked with a sort of pride on the high 
 green ramparts of Korsholm, near them on the south. 
 
 The long-credited story, confirmed by Mes- 
 senius, that Korsholm had been built by Earl 
 Birger and received its name from a large wooden 
 cross which was there raised both as a religious 
 symbol, a sign of victory, and a refuge, was founded 
 on the equally old tradition that the celebrated earl, 
 on his expedition to Finland, landed upon this very 
 coast. Later researches have thrown doubt upon 
 this story and Korsholm's origin at the same time; 
 but certain it is, that the fortress is very old, nay, 
 so old that it is scarcely remembered, save as the 
 remains of something more ancient. It is a fact 
 that it has never, so far as is known, offered resis- 
 tance to an enemy; its situation made it unimpor- 
 tant to Finland's defence; and since Ulea and 
 Kajana castles were erected, shortly before the 
 time of our story, it had ceased to be regarded as 
 a military post. Its principal use was now partly 
 to afford a residence for the governor of the 
 northern districts, partly to lodge other crown 
 officials, to serve as a prison, and, together with its 
 appanage of land, to yield a nice income for the sup- 
 port of the governor. The governor of the north- 
 ern part of Finland, Johan Mansson Ulfsparre of 
 Tusenhult, who was soon after succeeded by 
 Colonel Ernst Creutz of Sarvelax, lived only by 
 intervals at Korsholm; yet it is said that his seven- 
 ty-year old mother. Lady Martha, ruled with a stern 
 hand over both castle and estate during his absence. 
 
 Between the peasants and the burghers of the 
 
 new towns there prevailed at that time an unnatural 
 
 and injurious rivalry, originating in the efforts of 
 
 the government to suppress the country trade for 
 
 8 
 
170 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 the advantage of the towns, and, in a singularly 
 narrow-minded way, regulate the exchange of pro- 
 duce. Tlierefore, when the old and powerful peas- 
 ant chief, with his daughter, drove in through the 
 country toll-gate from the Ijillkyro side, a few of 
 the citizens nodded a greeting to the well-known 
 old man for the sake of his wealth; but the more 
 haughty among the merchants, who feared Bertila's 
 personal influence with the king, looked at him with 
 unfriendly eyes, and gave vent to their ill-feeling 
 in mocking words, uttered loudly enough to reach 
 the old man's ears. 
 
 " There comes the Storkyro peasant-king! " said 
 they; "and Wasa hasn't prepared any triumphal 
 arch ! He thinks himself too good to thresh in the 
 barn; he means to enter the army and become 
 generalissimo at once. Take care! Do you not 
 see how ungracious he looks, his cabin majesty! 
 if he could have his way, he would plough up all 
 Wasa into a grain-field ! " 
 
 With the hot-blooded Bertila, anger was seldom 
 far off; but he concealed his resentment, and urged 
 forward the horse, that he might soon arrive at the 
 house of the sailor's widow where he generally 
 stayed when in town. He had not gone far, how- 
 ever, on KOpman street — which in our time is not 
 one of the broadest, but was then extremely narrow 
 — before it was blocked up by a crowd of drunken 
 recruits, who, in an ale-house near by, had inaugur- 
 ated their new comradeship and strengthened them- 
 selves for the long journey in prospect. Two 
 under-oificers had joined the crowd as its self-con- 
 stituted leaders, and rushed, with a bold, " Out of 
 the way, peasant! " toward the new-comer. 
 
 Bertila, already irritated and unable to restrain 
 his anger, answered the shout with a rather un- 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 171 
 
 gentle cut of the whip, which knocked off the 
 speaker's broad-brimmed hat with its eagle 
 feather. Then the fray begun. The man 
 rushed upon the peasant's cart, and the whole 
 crowd followed him. 
 
 "Aha, old fellow!" exclaimed the merry ser- 
 geant, Bengt Kristerson, whom Bertila had so ig- 
 nominiously thrust out of doors in Storkyro; "now, 
 we have you here at our mercy, and I shall thank 
 you for your gracious treatment yesterday. Make 
 room, boys; the old fellow is mine; that codfish I 
 mean to scale myself." 
 
 Bertila was too old to depend further on the 
 strength of his fist, and looked around for a place 
 of retreat. Armed with the whip, he jumped from 
 the cart, which had stopped close by the steps of 
 the shop, and gave the horse a cut, so that the 
 latter, with the cart and the daughter, cleared its 
 way through the yielding throng and galloped up 
 the street. But if Bertila had intended to seek a 
 refuge in the shop, he was disappointed, for the 
 door was shut in his face by the inhospitable 
 owner. The old champion, seeing escape cut off, 
 placed himself with his back against the shop-door 
 and threatened the assailants with his long whip. 
 
 " Let lis thrash the proud Storkyro peasant! " 
 screamed a young Laihela boy, who, during the 
 one week that he had carried a musket, had been 
 able to forget his peasant name, but not his peas- 
 ant language. 
 
 ''Your father was a better man, Matts Hin- 
 drikson," said Bertila, with contempt. "Instead 
 of ranting against his own people, he helped us, 
 like an honest peasant, to pommel Peter Gumse's 
 cavalry in former days." 
 
 "Do you hear, boys?" cried one of the subal- 
 
172 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 terns, " the dog brags of having given brave sol- 
 diers a thrasliing! " 
 
 " We will not allow any one to tyrannize over 
 us!" 
 
 "The peasant shall dance after our whip!" 
 
 "And not we after his! " 
 
 And five or six of the most excited of the sol- 
 diers, who had lately worn the peasant jacket 
 themselves, rushed to pull Bertila down from the 
 steps. The old man would have been lost, had not 
 his adversary of the day before, the jolly sergeant, 
 thrown himself between him and the aggressors. 
 
 "Hold on, boys!" cried Bengt Kristerson, in 
 thundering tones. "What the devil are you think- 
 ing of ? Are you honest soldiers? Do you not see 
 that the old man is seventy years of age — and yet 
 you go six against one? Blitz-donner-Kreutz- 
 Pappenheim [the sergeant had learned this potent 
 oath, which never failed of its effect, in the proper 
 school], is that war-like? What do you suppose 
 the king would say about it? Out of the way, 
 boys; the old man is mine; I alone have the right 
 to wash him clean. You should have seen how he 
 lifted me yesterday like an old glove and threw me 
 down the steps. It was a manly stroke, and now 
 it has to be repaid." 
 
 Courage and magnanimity seldom fail of their 
 impression. Those standing nearest willingly gave 
 way. The sergeant advanced to the steps. Bertila 
 could have reached him with the whip, but he did 
 not strike. He knew his people. 
 
 "Do you know what it means, peasant?" cried 
 the sergeant, with an air of authority which would 
 have become General Stalhandske himself, "do you 
 know what it means to throw his royal majesty's 
 soldier down the steps? Do you know what it 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 173 
 
 means to knock off the hat of the defender of the 
 evanorelical faith and the conqueror of the power- 
 ful Roman emperor, who with his own hand has- 
 gained fourteen battles and run his sword through 
 sixteen or seventeen living generals? Do you 
 know, peasant, if I were in your place . . "." 
 
 " If I were in the place of his royal majesty's 
 soldier," answered Bertila, coolly, " I would respect 
 an honest man in his own house and a grandsire in 
 his old age. And if I were Bengt Kristerson, if I 
 had conquered the Roman emperor and run my 
 sword through seventeen living generals, I would 
 still not forget that Bengt Kristerson's father, 
 Krister Nilson, was a peasant in Limingo, and 
 fell on Ilmola ice like an honest fighter against 
 Fleming's tyranny." 
 
 The sergeant for a moment seemed dumb- 
 founded. Then he stepped close up to his ad- 
 versary, and said, with a grim aspect: 
 
 " Do you know, peasant, that I could impale 
 you on this?" and so saying he drew his frightful 
 long sword half-way out of the scabbard. 
 
 Bertila looked at him coldly, with crossed arms. 
 
 "Are you not afraid, old fellow?" resumed the 
 conqueror of the Roman empire, evidently discom- 
 posed by the peasant's firm attitude. 
 
 Bertila felt his advantage. 
 
 " When did you ever see an honest Finn 
 afraid?" said the old man, almost smiling. 
 
 The sergeant was not a vicious man. He felt 
 suddenly inclined to magnanimity; his fierce mien 
 changed into the blustering and jovial air which 
 became him so well. 
 
 " Do you know, boys," said he, with. a glance at 
 his comrades, " that the old ox has both horns and 
 hoofs? He might have become something in the 
 
]74 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 world if he had been among cavaliers. Yesterday, 
 when they were fourteen against one — for you 
 must know, boys, that all fourteen of the laborers 
 helped to lift me on the clodhopper's back, and 
 then every one had marks from it — yes, as I say, 
 yesterday' I would have beaten the old fellow 
 black and blue, had it not been for the presence 
 of women who sat with us at table. But to-day 
 we are fifteen against one; and so I propose that 
 we let the old man go." 
 
 " He is as rich as Beelzebub," cried some of 
 the crowd; "he shall treat us to a keg of ale." 
 
 Bertila drew out a little leather purse, took 
 some of Carl IX.'s silver coins, and threw them 
 contemptuously among the rabble. This irritated 
 the soldiers anew; several arms were raised, and 
 the storm threatened to burst forth again, when 
 suddenly the whole crowd turned and rushed down 
 to the harbor. Cannon-shots were heard; it was the 
 brig " Maria Eleonora," which saluted Korsholm. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE ARRIVAL AT KORSHOLM. 
 
 EVERYBODY in Wasa who had life and feet 
 had gone down to the harbor to enjoy the 
 uncommon spectacle of a man-of-war. Five or six 
 hundred people lined the shore, rowed out in boats, 
 or climbed the masts of the yachts or the roofs of 
 the store-houses to get a better view. Two hun- 
 dred recruits regarded with mingled curiosity, fear, 
 and pride, the vessel which was to take them from 
 their fatherland, perhaps forever; and behind them 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 175 
 
 staod a large group of mothers, sisters, and sweet- 
 hearts, shedding bitter tears at the thought of the 
 approaching separation. 
 
 The governor, Ulfsparre, was away in Sweden. 
 His lieutenant. Steward Peder Thun, with his gar- 
 rison, receired the new-comers; the recruits formed 
 a row on both sides, and the captain of the " Maria 
 Eleonora " offered his arm politely to Lady Regina, 
 to escort her to Korsholm. But at this moment 
 the proud young girl remembered that she was a 
 prisoner; she refused the officer's arm, and walked 
 alone, with a princely bearing, followed by her old 
 servant, through the ranks of the recruits and the 
 staring crowd. 
 
 Such an unusual sight put all Wasa in a terri- 
 ble state of curiosity. In an instant there arose 
 and spread the strangest reports about her. 
 
 "She is a princess of Austria," said some; "the 
 emperor's daughter, taken prisoner during the war, 
 and sent here for safety." Others pretended to 
 recognize in her the Queen Maria Eleonora; but 
 why did she come to Korsholm? 
 
 " I will tell you," whispered a tinker, with an 
 important air. " She is in league with her German 
 countrymen against the king and the country, and 
 therefore she is to be imprisoned in this remote 
 and secure fortress of Korsholm." 
 
 "That is not true," rejoined another, who had 
 received from returning soldiers a vague idea of 
 the conspiracies against the king's life. " It is," 
 added he, with a shy voice, as if fearing to bo 
 heard by the object of his story, "it is a nun from 
 Walskland, hired by the Jesuits to make away 
 with the king. Six times has she given him 
 deadly poison, and six times has he been warned 
 in dreams not to drink. When for the seventh 
 
176 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 time she offered him the draught, the king drew his 
 sword and forced her to swallow her own poison." 
 
 "But how can she then be here alive?" re- 
 marked an elderly lady, innocently. 
 
 "Alive?" repeated the story-teller, without 
 being disconcerted. "Oh, that is a question. 
 Those creatures can dissemble wonderfully. . . . 
 Yes, indeed, do you remember the Dutchman last 
 year who swallowed melted lead ? I do not wish 
 to say too much — but just look! The black-haired 
 nun is as pale as a corpse! " 
 
 "Has she given the king poison?" exclaimed a 
 trembling female voice close by. It was Meri, 
 who, with bated breath, drank every word. 
 
 " What nonsense! " replied a sea-captain, with 
 the air of knowing more than all the rest. " When 
 I was in Stralsund last spring, I saw those same 
 eyes, which one cannot easily forget. The girl 
 was then brought to Stockholm, and one of the 
 guards told me the whole story. She is a Spanish 
 witch, who has sold herself to the evil one, to be 
 for seven years the most beautiful woman on earth. 
 Only look at her: do you not see that the devil has 
 kept his word? But see, in those eyes is something 
 dark that burns and bewitches. When she became 
 so handsome, she went to the Swedish camp and 
 gave the king a love-potion, so that he neither 
 heard nor saw anybody but her for seven whole 
 weeks. This seemed to his generals a sin and a 
 shame, as the enemy pressed them hard; and so 
 they took her secretly one night and sent her here, 
 to spend the seven years of beauty at Korsholm." 
 
 " Did the king love her? " asked Meri, in agita- 
 tion. 
 
 " I think he did," answered the sea-captain, , 
 gruffly. 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 177 
 
 " Did she also love the king?" 
 
 " There surely are in the whole world no more 
 curious people than women. How the deuce can 
 you expect me to know all about it? the evil one is 
 smarter than other folks, that is certain. She gave 
 the king a copper ring . . ." 
 
 " With seven circles inside each other, and 
 three letters, engraved on the plate?" 
 
 " What the deuce! — do you know that already? 
 I have heard of the seven circles, but not of the 
 plate . . ." 
 
 Meri took a deep breath: " He wears it still ! " 
 said she to herself, with a secret joy. Meri was 
 superstitious, like all the people of her time. It 
 never entered her mind to doubt the possibility of 
 witches, enchantments, and love potions; but this 
 strange dark girl, who loved the king and was 
 loved by him in return . . . could she not be 
 innocent of the horrible things they said about 
 her? The poor forgotten one was seized with a 
 violent desire to approach this mysterious being 
 who had stood so near the great king. Tiie mo- 
 ments were precious; in a few hours she must 
 return to Storkyro. She took courage, and fol- 
 lowed the stranger to Korsholm. 
 
 The old residence within the ramparts of the 
 castle was, in spite of its fine prospect, more gloomy 
 than magnificent. Frequent changes of governors, 
 who only lived there a little while at a time, had 
 given to the two-story granite building, with its 
 side wings for prisoners, a dreary and deserted ap- 
 pearance. It resembled a jail more than a mighty 
 chieftain's castle. The gloominess was increased 
 by its present inmates — the stern Lady Martha, 
 with her old maid servants, some invalid soldiers, 
 and the bearded jailors. Had Gustav Adolf recol- 
 M 
 
178 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 leoted the condition of the place, he would proba- 
 bly not have sent his young prisoner to such a 
 dispiriting abode. 
 
 Lady Martha was prepared for her young guest, 
 whom they had described to her as a dangerous and 
 depraved person, for whose cunning no bar was 
 strong enough, no wall thick enough. She had 
 therefore had a little dark chamber within her own 
 bedroom prepared for Lady Regina and her duenna, 
 and made up her mind to watch the wild girl's 
 slightest motions like an Argus. Lady Martha was 
 in reality a good honest soul but a sharp and stiff- 
 necked lady of the old school, who had brought up 
 all her children with the rod, and never considered 
 them too old to receive a merited chastisement'. It 
 never entered her mind that a lonely, defenceless 
 and forsaken young girl, far away in a strange land, 
 needed a comforting hand, a motherly kindness ; 
 Lady Martha held that a spoiled child should be 
 tamed by discipline, and then, as she believed, it 
 would be time enough to think of a milder mode of 
 treatment. 
 
 When Lady Regina, accustomed to the freedom 
 of the sea, entered this gloomy dwelling, an invol- 
 untary shudder passed through her slender frame. 
 Her spirits were not ligiitened when she was re- 
 ceived on the steps by the old lady herself, in a 
 close linen cap and a long dark woolen cloak. 
 
 It is possible that Regiiia's bow was somewhat 
 stiff, and her whole bearing somewhat proud, when 
 she greeted the old Lidy Martha on the castle steps. 
 But Lady Martha did not allow herself to be intim- 
 idated by it. She took the young girl by both her 
 hands, shook them vigorously, and nodded a greet- 
 ing, about midway between a welcome and a threat. 
 Then she surveyed her guest from top to toe, and 
 
THE SWORD AMD THE PLOUGH. 179 
 
 the result of this survey fell in low-spoken words 
 from her lips : 
 
 " Stature like a princess ... no harm ; eyes 
 black as a gypsy's ... no harm ; skin white as 
 milk ... no harm; haughty . . . ah, ah, that 
 is bad ; we will see about that, my sweet friend." 
 
 Regina, impatient, made a motion to proceed. 
 But Lady Martha was not one to let go her hold. 
 
 " Wait a bit, my dear," said the stern dame, as 
 she tried to collect the little stock of German 
 words which still remained in het memory's scrap- 
 bag ; " with patience, one may go a long way. One 
 who crosses my threshold must not be a head high- 
 er than the door-post. Better to bend in youth 
 than creep in old age. There . . . that's the 
 way for a young person to greet one who is older 
 and wiser . . ." And before Regina was aware, 
 the strong old lady had put her right hand on her 
 neck, her left against her waist, and, with a hasty 
 pressure, forced her proud guest to bow as pro- 
 foundly as one could reasonably ask. 
 
 Lady Regina's pale cheeks were covered with a 
 flush as red as the evening sky that precedes a 
 storm. Higher and prouder than ever rose the 
 girl's slender form, and her dark eyes shot forth a 
 flash, which did not, however, frighten Lady Mar- 
 tha. Regina said nothing, but old Dorthe un- 
 doubtedly felt disposed to give Lady Martha a les- 
 son in civility in her mistress's behalf, for she, with 
 her lively southern gesticulations, ascended two 
 steps higher on the stairs, and screamed, beside 
 herself with anger : 
 
 " Miserable Finnish witch! how dare you treat 
 a high-born lady so shamefully? Do you really 
 know, base jailor, whom you have the honor of 
 receiving in your house? You do not? Then I 
 
180 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 will tell you. This is the high-born gracious Lady 
 Regina von Emmeritz, born Princess of Erameritz, 
 Hohenlohe, and Saalfeld, Countess of Wertheim 
 and BisohoffshBhe, heiress of Dettelsbach and Kis- 
 singen, and more. Her father was His Highness 
 the Prince of Emmeritz, who owned more castles 
 than you, ragged witch, have huts in your town. 
 Her mother was Princess of Wiirtemberg, related 
 to the Electoral House of Bavaria; and her still 
 living uncle. His Highness, worthy of honor and 
 glory, the Prince Bishop of Wiirtzburg, is lord of 
 Marienburg, and Ihe town of Wurtzburg, with all 
 the lands belonging to it. You take advantage 
 because your heretic king has seized our land and 
 city and made us prisoners, but the day will come 
 when Saint George and the Holy Virgin will de- 
 scend and destroy you, ye heathen; and if you dare 
 to harm a hair of our heads, we will raze this castle 
 to the ground, and exterminate you, miserable 
 witch, and your whole town . . ." 
 
 It is probable that old Dorthe's eloquence Would 
 not have come to an end for some time yet, had not 
 Lady Mitrtha made a sign to her servants, at which 
 they, without any ceremony, took the old woman, 
 and carried her off, in spite of her resistance, to 
 one of the small rooms on the lower floor, where 
 she was left to herself, to reflect further upon her 
 lady's aristocratic lineage. But Lady Martiia took 
 the amazed Regina, half by force, half willingly, 
 by the arm, and led her to the room allotted for 
 her, adjoining her own, and commanding a view of 
 the town. Here the stern lady left her for the 
 present, yet not without adding the following ad- 
 monition at the door: 
 
 "I will tell you, my friend: to obey is better 
 than to weep; the bird that sings too early in the 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 181 
 
 morning is before evening in the claws of the 
 hawk. Follow the habits of the country you are 
 in. It is now seven o'clock. At eight, supper is 
 brought in; at nine, you go to bed; at four in the 
 morning you get up; and if you don't know how 
 to card and spin, I will provide you some sewing, 
 so that time shall not hang heavy on your hands. 
 Then we will talk together again;' and when your 
 waiting-woman leanis to hold her tongue you may 
 have her back. Good-night; don't forget to say 
 your prayers; a psalm-book lies on the dressing- 
 table." 
 
 With these words Lady Martha closed the door 
 and Regina found herself alone. Solitary, impris- 
 oned, far away in a foreign land, unprotected, left 
 to the mercy of a hard keeper, — her thoughts were 
 not the most cheerful. She fell on her knees, and 
 prayed to the saints, not the prayers of the heretic 
 psalm-book, but according to the rosary of rubies 
 which her uncle, the bishop, had given her at her 
 christening. What were her prayers? Only 
 heaven and the dark walls of Korsholm know 
 that, but a sympathizing heart can imagine. She 
 prayed for the saints' assistance, for the victory of 
 her faith, and the downfall of the heretics; she 
 prayed also that the saints might convert King 
 Gustaf Adolf to the only saving church; that he, 
 another Saul, might become another Paul. Finally 
 she prayed for freedom and protection. . . . And 
 the hours went by; her supper was brought in, and 
 she perceived it not. 
 
 Lady Regina looked out of the little window, 
 where lay a landscape in the sunset glow — a quiet 
 bay, with its golden water-mirror; it was not the 
 luxuriantly-blooming Franconia, with its ripening 
 vineyards; it was not the rushing Main; and the 
 
182 TIMES OF GUSTA-F ADOLF. 
 
 town over there was not the rich WUrtgburg, with 
 its rows of cloisters and its lofty spires. It was 
 the poor, bleak Finland, and an arm of its sea; it 
 was the newly-built Wasa, with its church, Musta- 
 saari,the oldest in East Bothnia; one could plainly 
 see the reflection of the sun on the small Gothic 
 windows with stained glass from Catholic times, 
 and it seemed to Regina that she saw the trans- 
 figured saints looking out from this, their former 
 temple. And was not the eye of the setting sun 
 itself, at this moment, the look of such a saint, who, 
 with beatific serenity, gazed down on the world's 
 strife? All was so still, so atoningly placid; the 
 evening radiance, the landscape's pretty verdure, 
 the freshly mowed fields with their rows of 
 sheaves, the small red houses with their shining 
 windows, all invoked devotion and peace. 
 
 Then Lady Regina heard in the distance a 
 mild, melancholy song, simple and unaffected, but 
 sung as though from nature's own heart, on a 
 lonely evening, with a setting sun, by the shore of 
 a resting sea, when all sweet memories waken in a 
 yearning breast. At first, she did not listen to it; 
 but the song came nearer; . . . now it was ob- 
 structed by a cottage wall, now by a group of 
 hanging birches; now it was heard again, free, 
 loud, and clear, and finally one could distinguish 
 the words. 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 183 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 LOVES OF THE SOUTH AND NOKTH. 
 
 AS the lonely voice came nearer, the words of 
 the sons: could gradually be distingfuished. 
 It was a gentle heart which sang, in uneven but 
 impassioned strains, its sorrows and its yearnings, 
 by the shore of the sea, in the glory of a beauteous 
 August evening, in the far off regions of the 
 North. 
 
 The sunshine over the round world lies — 
 
 Over land and ocean's surge ; 
 And the moon sails up through the evening skies. 
 
 Above the horizon's verge ; — 
 But never on maiden forgotten and lone 
 
 Shall fall the sun's clear light, 
 And never the blithe moon shall look down 
 
 On the faith of a faithless knight. 
 
 For the friend — the only one I held dear — 
 . Dwells far in his castle of stone ; 
 He walks in glory, but leaves me here 
 
 With all my griefs alone ; 
 He has friends an hundred, and I but one ; 
 
 He has palace and towns and land : 
 I scatter ray pearls in the setting sun, ^ 
 
 I sing to the sea and strand. 
 
 At his castle the bird rests in her flight, 
 
 Under the southern sky, 
 And sits in a tree- top and sings all night 
 
 Of solitude's woe — as I. 
 He listens : for strangely the little bird's tone 
 
 Thrills the proud heart of the knight ; 
 And ere he guesses, the night has flown. 
 
 As vanishes love's delight. 
 
184 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 The longer Lady Regina listened to these sim- 
 ple tones, which were to her at once so strange and 
 yet in their deep melancholy so familiar, the more 
 was she moved by the echo of a regret that so near- 
 ly resembled her own. . She was seized with a 
 longing to breathe the fresh evening air ; the little 
 window long resisted her efibrts to open it, but all 
 Lady Martha's prudence had not been able to pre- 
 vent the hinges from becoming so old and rusty 
 that they finally yielded to the young girl's repeat- 
 ed attempts. Only two or three hours had she 
 been an inmate of this prison, and yet she inhaled 
 the evening fragrance as a life-prisoner breathes 
 the air of freedom. Her heart expanded, her eyes 
 regained their fire, her thoughts were filled with 
 dreamy ecstacy, and she sang, softly, so as not to 
 be heard by her jailor, but clearly and melodious- 
 ly, a song which can be but imperfectly reproduced 
 in the following words : 
 
 So deep my smart, 
 
 Thus I impart 
 To thee, O Virgin, all my heart ; 
 
 For honor dear, 
 
 My soul's wish e'er 
 Is but to die, without a fear. 
 
 Amidst earth's kings 
 
 My loved one flings 
 His javelins, like the Lord's lightnings ; 
 
 Great when in wrath 
 
 All in his path 
 He crushes — yet he mercy hath. 
 
 But all denied : 
 
 If thou decide, 
 My dagger in his heart I hide ; 
 
 Holy One — thou 
 
 God's Mother !— Oh, 
 Protect him from the deadly blow 1 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 185 
 
 Let him but see 
 
 Thy majesty, 
 And I will ask no more of thee ; 
 
 Oh, ^uard his throne. 
 
 His life, his crown. 
 And let my soul his sins atone. 
 
 The solitary person who had sung the first song 
 slowly approached the castle walls. It was a peas- 
 ant woman, whose pale yet once beautiful features 
 wore an expression of winning gentleness. She 
 was apparently trying to catch the song of the 
 stranger; but she did not succeed, on account of 
 the suppressed tones and the unknown language. 
 She seated herself on a stone, at a little distance 
 from the wall, and bent her mild gaze steadily to- 
 ward the prisoner in the castle window, who in turn 
 regarded her with dark penetrating eyes. These 
 two 'seemed to understand each other perfectly ; 
 for the language of song needs no other lexicon 
 than the heart. Or did a presentiment tell them, 
 the girl of seventeen and the woman of thirty-six, 
 that they both loved the same man, that both sang 
 their shipwrecked love on a far distant strand, but 
 in so infinitely different a manner? 
 
 Up in the north the summer nights are clear 
 until the beginning of August, when a light trans- 
 parent veil spreads itself over land and sea as soon 
 as the sun goes down. By the middle of August 
 (the time of which we are speaking) this veil has 
 grown thicker, and casts a mild, soft shade over the 
 leaves and groves of summer. Then the moon rises 
 upon this world of vanishing green ; and there is 
 nothinsr more sadly beautiful to be found in all na- 
 ture than such an August evening, when the eye, 
 accustomed to three months' unbroken day, shrinks 
 from the darkness, though seeing this darkness in 
 8* 
 
186 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 its loveliest aspects, like a mild sorrow irradiated 
 by a heavenly glory. This impression returns every 
 year, even though one lives to be a hundred ; it is 
 light and darkness which struggle at the same time 
 for the world and the human heart. 
 
 The two singers felt the power of this impres- 
 sion; they both sat mute and motionless, quietly re- 
 garding each other in the deepening twilight ; 
 neither said a v^ord, yet each understood the other's 
 innermost thoughts. 
 
 Suddenly the pale woman outside rose, turned 
 toward the town, and seemed to be listening to 
 some sounds which disturbed the holy peace of 
 evening. 
 
 Lady Regina followed the motions of the un- 
 known attentively, leaning out of the window that 
 she might see better. All nature was silent and 
 calm ; only in the distance was heard the stroke of 
 oars on the sea, or the melancholy, prolonged tone 
 of a shepherd's horn. This stillness, increased by 
 the first darkness of the autumn, had in it some- 
 thing at once holy and solemn. Jarring strangely 
 upon the peace and quiet came the indistinct noise 
 from the distant town. It was not the surge of the 
 sea, or the roar of the rapids, or the crackling of 
 wood fires ; although it resembled all these sounds. 
 It was rather the murmur of an enraged mob, ac- 
 tuated at once by fury and want. . . In a short 
 time the reflection of a fire was seen afar off in the 
 northern part of the town. 
 
 With the speed of the wind the lonely figure 
 outside the wall hurried away in the direction of 
 the threatening danger. . . . We will, for a mo- 
 ment, precede her. 
 
 The arrival of the man-of-war for the trans- 
 portation of the recruits had placed these in a 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 187 
 
 state of excitement which had been heightened by 
 sorrow, pride, and ale. With their under-ofBcers 
 at the head, they had thronged around the dram- 
 shops; and at this time, when the soldier was 
 all-important, it was often necessary to overlook 
 his license, in order to keep him in good humor. 
 The superior officers consequently pretended not 
 to notice that two hundred young men, with the 
 combative disposition of the East Bothnians, in- 
 toxicated themselves to excess; and it is possible 
 that this policy would have been the right one, had 
 not a peculiar circumstance, dangerous to peace, 
 brought their unrestrained passions to a full blaze. 
 
 The brave sergeant, Bengt Kristerson, had not 
 neglected this opportunity to do himself all possi- 
 ble credit. Inflated with the thought of his 
 own dignity, he had jumped up on a table and 
 thoroughly demonstrated to his new comrades: — 
 first, that it was really he who had conquered Ger- 
 many; secondly, that he would long ago have 
 driven Emperor Ferdinand, alive, into the river 
 Danube, had the latter not been in league with 
 Satan, and bewitched the whole Swedish army, the 
 king first of all ; thirdly, that on the night of the 
 Frankfort ball, he, Bengt, had stood on guard out- 
 side the king's bedchamber, and plainly seen Beel- 
 zebub, in the form of a young girl, occasion a 
 terrible commotion there; and fourthly (and to 
 ■Miis conclusion the sergeant came quite naturally, 
 in the inspiration of the moment), that the weal or 
 woe of the whole kingdom and of the world de- 
 pended upon the witch who was now imprisoned 
 within Korsholm's walls. 
 
 " You will see that the black-haired witch 
 brings the plague to the town," observed, thought- 
 
188 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 fully, a Malax peasant, with a 'shaggy appearance 
 and very light hair. 
 
 "The wolf-cub!" 
 
 " The king's murderess! " 
 
 " Stiall we endure it to have her sit in peace and 
 quiet, and destroy both king and country with her 
 witcheries?" cried a drunken recorder who had 
 joined the company. 
 
 " Let us duck her in the sea! " shrieked a Nerpes 
 peasant. 
 
 "Let us club her on the spot!" exclaimed a 
 Lappo peasant, with an eagle nose and dark 
 bushy eyebrows. 
 
 "And if they don't give her into our hands we 
 will set fire to Korsholm, and burn the owl and the 
 nest at the same time," said a ferocious Laihela 
 peasant. 
 
 " Better that than to have the kingdom ruined," 
 remarked a grave-looking seal-hunter from Replot. 
 
 " Torches! " shrieked a WOra peasant. 
 
 " To Korsholm ! " howled the whole crowd. And 
 excited, as is usually the case, by their own words, 
 the horde rushed to the large open fire-place of the 
 dram-shop, and snatched up all the burning brands 
 that were to be found. But as ill-luck would have 
 it, there was a great quantity of flax hanging in 
 bundles on the walls of the room. One of the 
 recruits, in his drunkenness, swung his brand too 
 high, the flax took fire, the strong draft from the 
 open door fanned the flame, and in a few moments 
 the ale-house was in full blaze. All rushed out. 
 Nobody had time to realize how it happened. 
 
 " It is witchcraft! " shrieked some. 
 
 " The witch at Korsholm will have to pay for 
 this!" cried others; and the whole raging mob 
 hastened at full speed to the old castle. 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 189 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE SIEGE OF KOESHOLM. 
 
 MERI (for the solitary singer was none other 
 than she) had scarcely realized the purpose 
 of the mad crowd, before she hurried with the 
 speed of the wind, and by the shortest wav, back 
 to Korsholm. In the moonlight, which shed its 
 silver rays over the landscape, she could plainly 
 distinguish Regina's dark locks, which, blacker than 
 the niaht, stood in relief from the room in the back- 
 ground, like a shadow in the midst of shade. And 
 under these locks shone two eyes, dreamy, deep, 
 like the glimmer of the stars in the dusky mirror 
 of a lake. The words died on Meri's lips; all the 
 strange reports rose like spectres before her 
 ima^rination. She who sat so lonely up there 
 at the window, was she not, after all, a southern 
 witch, a transformed sorceress, weeping over her 
 fate in being compelled to spend the seven years 
 of her beauty within these walls, and then again 
 become what she had been before — a frightful 
 monster, half woman and half serpent? 
 
 Meri stood as if petrified at the foot of the 
 wall. 
 
 But nearer and nearer was heard the murmur 
 of the wild crowd, and the lights of the brands 
 began to be reflected on the castle. Then the su- 
 perstitious peasant-woman tnok courage, and raised 
 her voice so that it could be heard at the window. 
 
 " Fly, your grace ! " said she, rapidly, in Swedish. 
 
190 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 " Fly! A great danger threatens you; the soldiers 
 are wild and frantic; they say that you have tried 
 to murder the king, and they demand your life." 
 
 Regina saw the pale shape in the moonlight, 
 and before her imagination rose all the stories she 
 had heard about this land of witchcraft. During 
 her ten months' stay among the Swedes she had in 
 some measure learned to understand their language; 
 she did not immediately comprehend the other's 
 meaning, but a single word was sufficient to fasten 
 her attention. 
 
 "The king?" repeated she, in broken Swedish. 
 " Who are you, and what have you to tell me about 
 the great Gustaf Adolf ? " 
 
 " Waste not a moment, your grace! " continued 
 Meri, without listening to Regina's question. "They 
 are already at the gates, and Lady MUrtha, with her 
 six soldiers, will not be able to protect you against 
 two hundred. Quick! If you cannot come out 
 through the door, tie together sheets and shawls 
 and let yourself down from the window; I will re- 
 ceive you." 
 
 Regina began to understand that some danger 
 threatened her ; but far from being terrified by it, 
 she heard it with a secret pleasure. Was she not 
 a martyr to her faith, transported to this wild land 
 for her zftal in trying to convert the mightiest ene- 
 my of her church ? Perhaps the moment was at 
 hand when the saints would grant her a martyr- 
 crown, denrly bought by life itself. Why should she 
 shun an honor which she had so recently craved ? 
 Was it not the tempter himself, who, in the 
 pale woman's form, tried to lure her from an im- 
 perishable glory? And Regina answered : "jE"^ 
 dixit diabolus : da te prmcipitem ex hoc loco, nam 
 scriptum est : angelis suis mandavit de te, ut te 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 191 
 
 tueantur ne ullo modo Icedaris.''^ * At these words 
 the moon appeared round the corner of the wall 
 and threw its melancholy light on the beautiful 
 girl's face. Her cheeks glowed, her eyes burned 
 with an ecstatic brilliance. Meri looked at her full 
 of wonder and dread . . and again it flashed 
 through her mind that something must be wrong 
 with a being of such a singular appearance, and 
 who spoke so strangely. An indescribable fear 
 seized her, and she fled, without knowing why, away 
 through the moonlight, back to the town. 
 
 In the meantime Regina in her chamber had 
 heard the murmur from the castle yard. The drunk- 
 en horde had been checked by a well-barred gate, 
 and stood clamorous on the outside, threatening 
 not to leave a stone of the castle standing, unless 
 the witch was immediately given up to them. But 
 Lady MSrtha, although just awakened from her 
 sound sleep, was not one to be easily scared. She 
 had been in more than one siege in her younger 
 days, and understood, like a wise commander, that 
 a fortress does not fall at big words. " One who 
 gains time, gains all," thought Lady Martha, and she 
 therefore began to negotiate for capitulation, with 
 the request to know what the besiejiers especially 
 wanted, and why they wanted it. In the meantime, 
 half a dozen rusty muskets were hunted up, with 
 which the castle's invalids were armed ; the six 
 keepers were provided with clubs and pikes ; the 
 servant girls themselves were ordered to seize the 
 flails with which more than one of Fleming's caval- 
 ry received their death-blow during the Club War. 
 Thus prepared. Lady Martha thought she could with 
 
 * ' ' And Satan saltb unto hini : ' Cast thyself down ; for It Is written, 
 He shall give His angels charge concerning thee, that they may preserve 
 thee, so that no harm may befall ihee ' " Compare Matthew Iv, 6, where 
 the Lutheran text differs from the Catholic. 
 
192 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 safety break off negotiations ; she therefore ad- 
 vanced in person to the inside of the gate, and 
 began a scolding lesson which had in it stning 
 words and but little music. 
 
 " You crazy scamps ! "shrieked the brave dame, 
 with more force than elegance, " may the devil take 
 you, as many as you are, drunken ale-bibbers! Pack 
 yourselves off tnis instant, or, as sure as my name 
 is Martha Ulfsparre, you shall have a taste of ' Mas- 
 ter Hans' on your backs ! you villains, sots, shame- 
 less knaves, night loafers ! " 
 
 " Master Hans" was a good-sized stick of braid- 
 ed rattan which seldom left Lady Martha's hand, 
 and for whose impressive maxims all the inmates 
 of the castle entertained a deep respect. But wheth- 
 er the noisy crowd did not understand " Master 
 Hans' " excellent qualities, or whether, in the up- 
 roar, Lady Martha's words were only heard by those 
 standing nearest, the mob continued to press on 
 with loud cries, and the strong gate shook upon its 
 hinges. 
 
 " Out with the witch ! " shrieked the wildest, and 
 some of them began to throw brands against the 
 gate, in the hope of setting it on fire. 
 
 Lady, Martha had on the ramparts two clutnsy 
 cannon from the time of Gustaf I, called "the 
 hawk " and " thf» dove." Their innocent employ- 
 ment had long been to respond to the salute of ves- 
 sels arriving iti the harbor, and on solemn occa- 
 sions, such as christening days and royal nuptials, 
 to interpret in loud tones the official sentiments of 
 pleasure. It is true, these guns were mounted on 
 some old disused ramparts outside of the present 
 fortifications of the castle — the high fence with its 
 iron spikes — and the cannons were consequently 
 more easily accessible to the enemy than to the 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 193 
 
 besieged. But Lady Martha calculated very cor- 
 rectly that a cannonade from the ramparts would 
 overawe the enemy, and servo as a signal of dis- 
 tress to summon assistance from the man-of-war 
 and the town. She therefore ordered two of her 
 soldiers to steal out under cover of the night, load 
 " the hawk " and " the dove," and directly after the 
 shot was fired — with powder only — return quickly 
 to the castle. 
 
 The effect of this was instantaneous. The hue 
 and cry ceased directly ; and Lady Martha did not 
 let the opportunity slip from her hands. 
 
 " Do you hear, you pack of thieves ?" screamed 
 she, mounted on a ladder so that her white night- 
 cap was seen in the moonlight a few feet above the 
 gate ; " if you don't this minute take yourselves 
 off from His Royal Majesty's castle, 1 will let my 
 cannon shoot you into fragments, like so many cab- 
 bage stalks ; you noisy, drunken swine ! I sup- 
 pose you know that angry dogs get torn skins, and 
 the' chicken who sticks his neck in the jaws of the 
 fox will have to look around to see where his head 
 is. I shall have you cut to pieces, you ruffians ! " 
 continued Lady Martha, more and more excited ; 
 " I will make mince-meat of you and throw you 
 to the . ." 
 
 Unfortunately, the brave commander was not 
 allowed to finish her heroic harangue. One of the 
 crowd had found a rotten turnip on the ground, 
 and flung it so skilfully at the white night-cap shin- 
 ing in the moonlight, that Lady Martha, struck 
 right in the brow, was obliged to retire, and for the 
 first time in her life had to leave a sentence unfin- 
 ished. An irrepressible laugh now rose among the 
 crowd, and with it Lady Martha's supremacy was 
 hopelessly impaired. The enemy stormed more 
 N 9 
 
194 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 and more arrogantly against the gate, the hinges 
 bent, the boards gave away, finally half the gate 
 fell in with a terrible crash, and the whole crowd 
 of the besiegers rushed into the court-yard. 
 
 Now one could have wagered three against one 
 that Lady Martha would be obliged to capitulate. 
 But no ; she withdrew quickly, with all her force, 
 to the interior of the castle, barring the entrance, 
 and placed her musketeers at the windows, threat- 
 ening to shoot down the first person who attempted 
 to enter. Such resolute courage, on any other 
 occasion, would not have failed of its effect; but 
 the infuriated rabble neither heard nor saw. One 
 of the men in front, who had found a crowbar, began 
 to batter the door. 
 
 Then arose confusion and outcries at the rear 
 of the crowd. Those in the middle turned round 
 and discerned through the open gateway, as far as 
 one could see in the uncertain moonlight, the whole 
 space outside filled with head upon head and mus- 
 ket upon musket. It was as if an army had sprung 
 up from the earth to annihilate the disturbers of 
 the peace. Could it be all the bloodless shades of 
 the long deceased champions of Korsholm had 
 risen from their graves to avenge the violence that 
 had been committed against their old fortress? 
 
 In order to explain the unexpected sight which 
 was now presented to the view of the belligerents, 
 we must remember that a great part of the country 
 people from the adjacent regions had flocked to the 
 town to witness the departure of the recruits. It 
 ought also to be mentioned that the Storkyro peas- 
 ant king had remained over night in Wasa, prob- 
 ably in the secret expectation of hearing some 
 news about Bertel from the crew of the " Maria 
 Eleonora." The burning of the ale-house and the 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. ]95 
 
 march of the noisy crowd toward Korsholm had set 
 all Wasa in commotion, and when Meri arrived in 
 breathless haste, imploring her father to save the 
 imprisoned lady, she found open ears everywhere. 
 The East Bothnian is soon ready for battle; and 
 when the peasants learned the wrong which had 
 been done Bertila, their foremost man, the old ani- 
 mosity against the soldiers awakened within them. 
 They forgot that many of their own sons and 
 brothers had just donned the recruit's jacket; 
 they could not possibly neglect so welcome an 
 opportunity to give the soldiers a thrashing, both 
 in the name of humanity and in defense of the 
 king's castle. They therefore marched, with Ber- 
 tila at the head, about a hundred strong, to the 
 rescue of the castle; and what in the moonlight 
 might have been taken for pikes and muskets, was 
 scarcely anything but hastily-snatched poles and 
 rails — the usual weapons in the fights of that re- 
 gion. 
 
 As soon as the soldiers saw that they were at- 
 tacked from the outside, they tried to hide their 
 consternation by loud shouts and threats. Uncer- 
 tain of the enemy's strength, some of them began 
 to think of a possible retreat over the spiked fence; 
 others believed that they had to deal with a whole 
 army of spectres, called up through the strange 
 witch's incantations, which seemed, even to the 
 most courageous, uncomfortable and unpleasant. 
 They were soon roused from their delusion, how- 
 ever, by the well-known sounds of M^lax Swedish 
 and Lillkyro Finnish, which could with very good 
 reason be thought to come from human lips, and 
 not from ghosts. At the moment when the forces 
 of the outer enemy clogged up the gateway, a 
 silence arose, as if by agreement on each side, 
 
196 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 during which could be distinguished a voice from 
 the castle window and another from the rampart, 
 both speaking at once: 
 
 "Didn't I tell you so?" shrieked Lady Martha 
 bravely, from the window: "didn't I tell you, 
 tipplers, vagabonds, that you ought to think seven 
 times before you stuck your noses between the 
 wedge and the tree, and if the tail has once got 
 into the fox trap, there is no other resource left 
 than to bite it off. A big mouth needs a broad 
 back, and now hold yourselves in readiness to pay 
 the fiddler!" 
 
 And with this, Lady Martha drew back; very 
 likely from fear of a new volley of rotten turnips. 
 
 The other voice from the rampart was that of 
 an old man, who in powerful tones cried to the sol- 
 diers: 
 
 " If you will lay down your arms and give up 
 your leaders, then the rest may go in peace. If 
 not, there shall be a dance, the like of which Kors- 
 holm has never seen, and we will see to it that the 
 bows are well-rosined." 
 
 "May all the devils take you, peasant lubber! " 
 replied a voice from the court-yard, by which 
 could be plainly recognized the jolly sergeant, 
 Bengt Kristerson. "If I had you between my 
 fingers, I would — blUz-donner-kreutz-Pappenheim! 
 — teach you to propose to brave soldiers a cowardly 
 surrender! Go ahead, boys; let us clear the gate- 
 way and drive the gang back to their porridge 
 kettle! " 
 
 Fortunately, none of the soldiers were provided 
 with fire-arms, and very few with swords, as the 
 recruits had not yet obtained weapons. Most of 
 them had, besides their extinguished brands and 
 some fragments of broken wagons, only sticks 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 197 
 
 snatched from a wood-pile in the yard. Thus 
 equipped, the crowd bore down upon the entrance. 
 
 At the first assault, the soldiers were received 
 with such energetic blows of the rails, that many 
 drew back with bloody heads. But soon the crowd 
 at the gate became so dense that no arm could be 
 lifted, no blow dealt, and a frantic struggle took 
 place between those in front, while those from 
 both sides closed around them and finally pressed 
 them so tightly that no one could move hand or foot, 
 and they expected every minute to be squeezed to 
 death. Here were seen vigorous arras trying in 
 vain to overthrow an enemy; there, broad shoul- 
 ders exerting themselves to make their way through 
 the crushing mass. Finally the pressure from within 
 became so strong that the foremost ranks of the 
 peasants were thrust aside or thrown down, and 
 about half of the soldiers cleared a way toward the 
 open plain outside the ramparts, while the other 
 half, again penned up, were obliged to remain in 
 the court-yard. 
 
 Then began a regular battle. They fought 
 with poles and sticks, with whips and fists. Here 
 rained down many a blow which might better have 
 been bestowed on Isolani's Croats; here was per- 
 formed many a daring exploit which would have 
 been better suited to the battle-fields of Germany. 
 The soldiers, although superior in numbers, were 
 divided by the gate into two detached corps, and 
 soon had the worst of it. Part of them, numbering 
 the youngest of the recruits, took to flight, and 
 scattered themselves toward the town; others were 
 overpowered and badly beaten; others again — the 
 old experienced soldiers — retired to the ramparts, 
 where, secure from attack in the rear, they defended 
 themselves with desperate courage. 
 
TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 Victory now seemed to incline decidedly toward 
 the side of the peasants, when the strife received 
 a new impetus. The forces at the gate, who, on. 
 account of the struggle outside the ramparts, had 
 forgotten the enemy within, were surprised by the 
 enclosed soldiers, who rushed out to help their 
 comrades. These now found breathing space, and 
 in their turn attacked the peasants with increased 
 fury; the affray became more and more involved, 
 the victory more and more uncertain; both parties 
 had defeats to revenge, and the rage of both in- 
 creased as the strength on both sides became more 
 equal. 
 
 And over this scene of tumult and confusion, 
 of lanaentation, cries of victory, threats, and wild 
 conflict, the clear and silvery August moon beamed 
 like a heavenly eye upon the self-inflicted anguish 
 and misery of earth. All the inlets of the bay 
 shone in the moonlight; in the tree tops and on the 
 moist grass there glittered millions of dewdrops, 
 like pearls on midsummer's green robe. All nature 
 breathed_an indescribable calm; a gentle breeze 
 from the great shining sea in the west passed 
 softly over the coast; in the distance was heard the 
 monotonous roll of the surf upon the beach, and 
 the stars looked down, silent and twinkling, into 
 the dark waters. 
 
 When the yard was found empty. Lady MUrtha 
 and her soldiers ventured out to behold from a 
 nearer standpoint the strife on the ramparts. The 
 stout-hearted old lady undoubtedly felt inclined 
 to take part in the contest in her way, for she was 
 heard to cry to the peasants in a loud voice: 
 
 " That's right, boys! drum ahead! let the stick 
 fly! many have danced after worse fiddles!" And 
 to the soldiers she screamed: " Good luck to you,. 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 199 
 
 my children; help yourselves to a little supper; 
 Korsholm offers the best the house has. Be at 
 ease; your witch is in good keeping; Korsholm 
 has bolts and bars for you too, miscreants! " 
 
 But as if a capri&ious fate wished to convict 
 the old lady ol' untruth and put all her prudence 
 to shame, a tall, dark female form appeared at that 
 moment on the top of the rampart, and outlined 
 itself against the moonlit sky. 
 
 Lady MUrtha felt the virords die on her lips 
 when, in dismay, she recognized her well-guarded 
 prisoner. How Regina had got out through locked 
 doors and closed window^s was to the good dame 
 such an inexplicable enigma that she was for an 
 instant infected by the superstitious belief in the 
 strange girl's alliance with the powers of darkness. 
 She gave up all idea of catching- the fugitive, and 
 expected nothing less than to see large black wings 
 grow out of her shoulders, and to see her, like an 
 immense raven, soar aloft toward the starry firma- 
 ment. 
 
 The reader, on the other hand, can easily find a 
 natural explanation. The din of the conflict and 
 the sound of the two cannon shots had reached 
 Regina's lonely chamber. Every moment she 
 expected to be seized by executioners and dragged 
 to a certain death; and so glorious did the lot of 
 dying for her faith seem to her, that her impa- 
 tience was increased to the highest degree when 
 the noise down below continued, but still, after an 
 hour's interval, no human feet were heard to ap- 
 proach her door. Finally the thought ran through 
 her fanatical soul, that the prince of darkness 
 envied her so grand a fate, and that the strife going 
 on below was instigated by him in order to pre- 
 pare for her, instead of a glorious death, a languish- 
 
200 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 ing life in captivity, without profit or joy. She 
 remembered the singer's advice, to lower herself 
 down through the open window by means of sheets 
 and shawls; quickly she formed her resolution, 
 and before many minutes stood in view of all the 
 combatants on the rampart. 
 
 As they became aware of the tall form up there 
 in the moonlight, they were seized with the same 
 superstitious dread which had just paralyzed Lady 
 Martha's quick tongue. The contest gradually 
 subsided, and continued only at the most remote 
 points; friend and foe were affected by a common 
 horror, and near the rampart there was a silence so 
 deep that one could hear in the distance the sea's 
 low murmur against the pebbly beach. 
 
 And Lady Regina spoke with a voice so loud 
 and clear that if her Swedish had not been so im- 
 perfect she could have been very well understood 
 by all within hearing. 
 
 "Yo children of Belial!" said she, in tones 
 which, though slightly trembling at first, soon be- 
 came firm and calm, "ye people of the heretic 
 faith, why do ye delay to take my life? Here I 
 stand without weapons, without any human protec- 
 tion, with the high heaven above me and the earth 
 and sea at my feet, and say to you: Your Luther 
 was a false prophet; there is no salvation except 
 in the true universal Catholic Church. Therefore, be 
 converted to the Holy Virgin and all the saints; 
 acknowledge the Pope to be Christ's vicegerent, as 
 he truly is, that you may avert from your heads the 
 sword of St. George, which is already raised to 
 destroy you. But me you can kill in order to seal 
 the veracity of my faith; here I stand; why do 
 you hesitate? I am ready to fall for my faith! " 
 
 It was Lady Regina's good fortune that her 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 201 
 
 speech was not understood by those to whom it 
 was addressed, for so strong was the power of 
 Lutheranism, in this fervid time when nations and 
 individuals sacrificed life and welfare for their reli- 
 gion, that even the humblest and most ignorant 
 were filled with burning zeal and a blind hate to 
 the Pope and his followers, of which all our crab- 
 bed but pithy old psalm-books yet to-day bear 
 plain witness. Had this mass of people, both 
 peasants and soldiers, heard Regina extol the Pope 
 and declare Luther a false prophet, they would 
 inevitably have torn her to pieces in their rage. As 
 it was, the young girl's words were an unmeaning 
 sound in their ears; theysaw her firm bearing, and 
 the respect which courage and misfortune united 
 always inspire did not fail to have its effect upon 
 the enraged throng, a few moments before so 
 furious, now irresolute, and at a loss what to think 
 or do. 
 
 Lady Regina again expected, in vain, to be 
 dragged to death. She descended from the ram- 
 part and mingled in the shyly yielding crowd; all 
 could see that she was utterly unprotected, and yet 
 not a hand moved to seize her. 
 
 "It is not a being of flesh and blood, it is a 
 shadow," said an old WOra peasant, hesitatingly. 
 " It seems to me that I see the moon shine right 
 through her." 
 
 " We may test that," exclaimed a shaggy fellow 
 from Umola, laying his coarse hand rather roughly 
 on Regina's shoulder. 
 
 It WAS a critical moment; the young girl turned 
 around and looked her assailant in the face with 
 such dark, deep, shining eyes, that the latter, 
 seized with a strange emotion, immediately drew 
 his hand back, and stole away abashed. A large 
 
203 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 number of those standing nearest followed him. 
 None could explain the power of those dark eyes 
 in the moonlight, but all felt their mysterious in- 
 fluence. In a few moments the space around 
 Reo'ina was vacant, the strife had ceased, and a 
 patrolling force, which at last arrived, put an end 
 to the disturbance by arresting the most refrac- 
 tory of the combatants. 
 
 But not long did the rivalry engendered by the 
 Club War continue between the peasants and the 
 soldiers — between the industrious jo/oM,g'/j, Finland's 
 pride, and the conquering sword, which at tliis 
 time was drawn to subdue the Roman emperor 
 himself. 
 
 Of Regina we will only say that she allowed 
 herself, with a sigh over the martyr-crown she had 
 missed, to be taken back to the dark and solitary 
 prison-chamber under Lady Martha's charge. But 
 Bertila returned with his daughter to Storkyro: 
 the older person with thoughts of a coming great- 
 ness, the younger with the memory of a past joy. 
 And it should be observed that all this occurred 
 during two days of the summer of 163)J — before 
 King Gustaf Adolf's death, which was described at 
 the end of the first story. 
 
 Days and months go by, and human destinies 
 change form, and the swift word is obliged to check 
 its flight and remain awhile mute in expectation 
 of the evenings which are to come. For the Sur- 
 geon's tales, like a child's joy or sorrow, lasted but 
 a single evening — short enough for those who 
 sympathetically listened to ' them, and perhaps 
 
THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 203 
 
 sufficiently long for the others. But never was the 
 thread of the story clipped in the middle of its 
 course, without youupj and old thinking to them- 
 selves: there is still more com-ing. And the Sur- 
 geon had to promise this. He had much yet to 
 relate about the half-spun skein of two family his- 
 tories; and next time it will probably be spun 
 longer — if not to the end, at least to the knot, 
 which means that the skein has reached its right 
 length. 
 
PAET lU.— FIRE AND WATER. 
 
 INTB ELUDE. 
 
 SIX weeks elapsed before the Surgeon again 
 saw gathered around him his story-loving 
 listeners, large and small. It had happened that 
 in this interval an, accident had befallen the old 
 man. Nearly everybody in this world, and espe- 
 cially old bachelors, have some hobby. BSck had 
 now got it thoroughly into his head that he ought 
 to have a certain comfort in his old days. He had 
 in the garret a pretty large sack of feathers, and 
 he was accustomed to increase it every spring and 
 autumn by bird shooting. To what use these 
 feathers were to be put, he informed no one; when 
 asked about it, he usually answered: 
 
 " I will do like Possen at the Wiborg explosion : 
 if Finland should need, I will go up in a tower 
 and shake my feathers in the air; then there will 
 be as many soldiers as the sack has feathers." 
 
 " You talk like a goose, brother Andreas," re- 
 plied Captain Svanholm, the postmaster. "In our 
 day, soldiers must be made of sterner stuff. The 
 devil take me, but I think you consider us warriors 
 only chickens." 
 
 " Yes," added the Surgeon, when the captain 
 was about to continue, " I know what you mean to 
 say: precisely like Fieandt at Karstula." 
 
 However, the fact was, that one fine April day 
 the Surgeon had gone to the bay on a shooting ex- 
 
 (804) 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 205 
 
 pedition, with decoy-ducks. He was accompanied 
 by an old one-eyed corporal named Ritai, a name 
 meaning Fritz. He had in his youth been a 
 journeyman, and wandered around Germany with 
 a pack on his back; but he brought nothing home 
 in it except his name. 
 
 There was still ice in portions of the bay, with 
 frequent openings of clear water. The old men 
 strolled along the edge of the ice, discharging 
 their guns every little while, but without much 
 result, as both of them had rather poor eyesight. 
 It happened early in the morning that Back 
 thought he saw a pair of fine ducks at the farther 
 edge of the ice, which could only be reached by 
 making a long circuit. He set ofF, and sure enough 
 the ducks were there. He stole as near as he 
 dared; he aimed; he fired; the ducks shook them- 
 selves a little, but did not stir from the spot. 
 " Those creatures are pretty tough," thought Back ; 
 and he bent down, reloaded, and fired again at 
 thirty paces, with the same result. Feeling a little 
 flat, Back went nearer, and discovered for the first 
 time that he had been shooting his own decoy- 
 ducks, which the wind had driven, unobserved, 
 from the inner edge of ice to the outer. 
 
 The old gentleman now resolved to return with 
 his game; but this was easier said than done. The 
 wind had separated the ice where he stood from 
 the ice which held Ritsi, and the loose block was 
 drifting toward the sea. The two old friends 
 looked sadly at each other; it was scarcely a dozen 
 yards between them, and yet the corporal could not 
 assist his friend and master, for there was no boat 
 to be had. Back was driven slowly but surely out 
 to sea. 
 
 "Good-by now, comrade!" cried the Surgeon, 
 
206 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 while he could yet be heard by the corporal. 
 " Tell Svenonius and Svanholm that my will is 
 locked up in the lower bureau-drawer to the right. 
 Tell him to have the bells rung for mc next Sun- 
 day. As for the funeral, you need not give your- 
 self any trouble; I will attend to that myself." 
 
 "God have mercy!" cried the corporal; and 
 he wiped his single eye with the inside of his 
 jacket-skirt, and returned to the town slowly and 
 tranquilly, as if nothing had happened. 
 
 Now it must be said, to the honor of the good 
 town, that the rest of the Surgeon's friends were 
 far from taking the matter as coolly as the corporal. 
 The postmaster cursed and swore; the school- 
 master marched out at the head of his boys, and 
 the old grandmother quietly sent off a couple of 
 able-bodied pilots in their safe boats to cruise 
 between the blocks of ice and hunt for the Sur- 
 geon. Half the town was in motion; there was 
 a great bustle and running about, those who made 
 the most fuss accomplishing the least. 
 
 Two days passed with no trace of the Surgeon; 
 on the third day, the pilots came back without hav- 
 ing found their game. The Surgeon was now given 
 up for lost, and they ceased to search for him. There 
 was sincere mourning in the town; for an heirloom 
 like the old man Back — the uncle of all and confi- 
 dant of all — was one of the little town's household 
 guardian spirits, without whom it was impossible 
 to conceive how the general welfare could be 
 maintained. But what was to be done? When, 
 on the third Sunday after the unfortunate bird- 
 hunting, nothing had been heard from the Surgeon, 
 not even a cry or chirrup, the bells were rung, ac- 
 cording to custom, for his poor soul, a fine eulogy, 
 composed by Svenonius, and interlarded with both 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 207 
 
 Latin and Hebrew flowers of rhetoric, was read in 
 the church, and the most wise town council ap- 
 pointed a day in the coming week for taking an 
 inventory of the property of the old comrade so 
 unexpectedly cut off. 
 
 I hope, however, that the reader, who has 
 noticed the title of this veracious story, will not be 
 alarmed. It would really be very hard if the Sur- 
 geon should betaken away just now, when Regina 
 sits confined at Korsholm under Lady Miirtha's 
 stern hand, and Bertel yet bleeds on the battlefield 
 of Liitzen. And what would become of the ten- 
 der-hearted Meri, of the Storkyro peasant-king, 
 and so many of the other remarkable persons of 
 this story? Patience; the Surgeon had cer- 
 tainly gone through worse experiences in his day; 
 it wasn't for nothing that he was born on the same 
 day as Napoleon. 
 
 Everything was arranged for the inventory. ^ A 
 surprising neatness prevailed in Back's garret- 
 chamber; something very unusual had occurred 
 there: the place had been swept and scrubbed. 
 All his effects were set in order — the medicine- ^ 
 chest was dusted, the stuffed birds were placed in 
 a row, the sacred collection of eggs exposed to 
 profane eyes. The silver-headed Spanish cane 
 stood gravely in the corner; the old peruke hung 
 with a meditative air on its hook; the innermost 
 mysteries of Back's bureau — the looks of hair from 
 former times — were drawn forth to be valued in 
 rubles and kopeks, probably not at a high figure. 
 All was in order, as we said; an alderman with an 
 official mien had taken his seat at the old oak table, 
 where a blank document, stamped with the big 
 seal of the government, now occupied the place 
 usually reserved for the Surgeon's carpenter tools; 
 
208 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 s : 
 
 a clerk sharpened his pencil opposite the alderman, 
 and the old grandmother, as landlady of the house, 
 had presented herself, with moist eyes, to deliver 
 up Back's property, as the old man had neither 
 kith nor kin. 
 
 One thing, however, was still unopened and 
 unexamined: it was the worn sealskin trunk under 
 the Surgeon's bed. The alderman's eyes occasion- 
 ally turned there with a pious thought of the per- 
 centage he would derive from the inheritance; but 
 what the trunk contained, and who would be the 
 rightful heir, no one knew. 
 
 It was time to commence. Svanholm and Sve- 
 nonius were called up as appraisers. The alderman 
 coughed once or twice, assumed his most magiste- 
 rial air, opened his mouth, and spoke: 
 
 " Whereas, it has come to the knowledge of 
 the most wise town council that the former Sur- 
 geon of the High Crown, the before-mentioned 
 Andreas Back, wliile engaged in the pursuit of ice- 
 bird shooting of birds on the ice, on the aforesaid 
 ice accidentally lost his life in a deadly way; and 
 whereas, he therefore, although not found in body, 
 •must certainly be considered dead in soul, cor- 
 rectly and according to law " 
 
 " I would most humbly beg to be excused from 
 that!" said at this instant a voice from the door; 
 and the effect thereof was marvellous. 
 
 The wise alderman lost both his wits and his 
 oiBcial bearing; he turned his eyes upward, and 
 his eloquent tongue for the first time refused its 
 office. The clerk, with the name and dignity of 
 secretary, jumped up like a rocket, knocking his 
 head against the wall behind him, and tumbling 
 over the learned Svenonius, who was somewhat 
 deaf, and had neither heard the awful voice nor 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 209 
 
 understood the slightest thing about the commo- 
 tion. The most excited one, however, was the 
 brave Svaiiholm; one could have sworn that he had 
 not, even at Karstula, experienced such an ordeal. 
 He suddenly became as white as a sheet, and vainly 
 commanded his refractory left foot to wheel about. 
 The only one who maintained any degree of self- 
 possession was the old grandmother; she put her 
 spectacles on her nose, went straight up to the new- 
 comer, and shook her respected head dubiously, as if 
 to say (what she did not say, however), that it was 
 very unbecoming in corpses to peep about. 
 
 But old Back — for who else could it be? — was 
 not at all daunted. His feelings were of an en- 
 tirely different kind. When he saw his dear old 
 chamber so shamefully fixed up, his precious effects 
 so glaringly paraded, and the officious alderman 
 actively engaged in what Back considered none of 
 his business, he was seized, excusably enough, with 
 righteous indignation, took the representatives of 
 the law by the neck, one after the other, and threw 
 them without ceremony from the room. Then 
 came the turn of brother Svenonius, who was also 
 not spared; and finally of brother Svanholm, 
 who, likewise, before he could utter a word, found 
 himself rolling his whole length down the stairs. 
 All this was done in the twinkling of an eye. The 
 place was now cleared of all except the grand- 
 mother. When Back met the old lady's mildly 
 reproachful glance, he came to his senses, and felt 
 ashamed. 
 
 " Well, well," said he, "you must not take it 
 ill, cousin; I shall teach sweepers and dusters to 
 disorder my room. . . . Be so kind as to take 
 a seat, dear cousin . But it is enough to provoke 
 a stone, to see such nonsense. Just look how these 
 O 9* 
 
210 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 rogues have scrubbed my room and dusted all my 
 birds! It is scandalous!" 
 
 " Dear cousin," interrupted the grandmother, at 
 once vexed and pleased; "I am the one to be 
 blamed for all that; we couldn't possibly think but 
 that you had been drowned." 
 
 "Drowned indeed!" muttered the Surgeon. 
 "I will tell you, cousin, a bad penny is not got rid 
 of so easily. It is perfectly true that I 'floated 
 around on that miserable block of ice three whole 
 days and nights. It wasn't exactly a warm bed 
 and well-spread table, but it answered. I had my 
 old gun with me, and managed to shoot a venture- 
 some seal. It was pretty oily, I can assure you, 
 but I thought: 'better lack bread than wit.' I had 
 a tinder-box, and salt too; so I made a fire of my 
 game-bag, and fried myself a beef-steak. On the 
 fourth day 1 drifted to firm ice at West Bothnia, 
 and marched ashore. 'Now it is time to start for 
 home,' thought I; so I sold my gun, and started, 
 although the sledging was bad enough. And I 
 tell you what it is, cousin, they would been spared 
 from upsetting my room, and sticking their noses 
 into my things, had not the Swedes raised the 
 charges more than four times what they were when 
 I was young. Before I got to Haparanda, my 
 purse was empty. Then I thought: ' let the coh 
 legium medicum go to the devil ; ' and so I began 
 my old practice with the lancet and ^essentia 
 dulcis,'' as I went along; and all the old grannies 
 . . . God bless you, I thought you were going 
 to sneeze! . . . and all the old grannies were 
 amazed to see old times come again. In this man- 
 ner I managed to reach home ... a little too 
 late, but still in time to throw my uninvited guests 
 down-stairs." 
 
,FIRE AND WATER. 211 
 
 It is easy to see that the Surgeon found it diffi- 
 cult to forgive his friends for invading his peaceful 
 domains. Had they robbed him of his treasures, 
 or disgraced his name, he could have pardoned 
 them; but to put his room in order vcas more than 
 human magnanimity could excuse! Little by little 
 the storm was allayed through the old grandmother's 
 wise mediation; and so the day came when the 
 reconciliation was celebrated with a third story. It 
 is true that some simple-minded people still looked 
 upon the Surgeon as a ghost; the council doubted 
 his right to live when he had been legally declared 
 dead; the postmaster swore by a thousand devils 
 over his sore back, which still bore marks of the 
 encounter with brother Back; Svenonius sighed 
 over a hole in his twenty-years-old black coat, 
 which, in honor of the solemn occasion, he had 
 worn at this neck-breaking reunion. But the old 
 grandmother smiled just as mildly; Anne Sophie 
 was as gentle as ever; the little folks were as up- 
 roarious; and thus it happened that the sunshine 
 scattered the mists, and the horizon cleared for the 
 fortunes of the imprisoned Regina. 
 
 " My dear friends," began the Surgeon, " it may 
 seem strange to you that I should call this story 
 ' Fire and Water.' All that concerns ' The 
 King's Ring' and how 'The Sword and the 
 Plough ' fell into strife, you can understand with- 
 out puzzling your brains. But now some of you 
 probably think that I intend to divert you with 
 natural science, since I let the elements figure as a 
 title. That would certainly be well enough; I have 
 a great respect for nature, but I hold the opinion 
 that in a story human beings are the main thing. 
 If we are looking at pictures, we can with hearty 
 pleasure regard a fruit-piece or a game-piece; but 
 
312 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 SO far as I understand, figure-painting, with fine 
 human forms, is superior. 1 will tell you at once 
 that I do not by any means intend to describe con- 
 flagrations and deluges, but I have chosen my title 
 from the fact that human dispositions sometimes 
 have a remarkable resemblance to the elements — 
 some to fire, some to water, some even to light air. 
 I intend to tell you about four persons, of whom 
 two belong to the first sort and two to the second. 
 This title by no means says all that might be said, 
 for most titles have the fault of expressing but one 
 of many sides. I also thought of calling this part 
 ' The Coat of Arms,' when I realized that it could 
 with just as much reason be called ' The Axe'. I 
 might have frightened you with the terrible title 
 of 'The Curse'; but when I came to think of it, 
 I found that it could just as well be called 'The 
 Blessing'. Consequently you will have to be con- 
 tented with the elements. 
 
 " I have now said all that I desired in explana- 
 tion, and will leave you to guess the rest." 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 SPOILS FEOM THE BATTLE-FIELD. 
 
 IT is necessary the reader should remember, 
 what has already been explained, that all the 
 events described in the narrative of "The Sword 
 and the Plough" occurred before the battle of 
 Lutzen, which ended Part I, " The King's Ring." 
 
 Returning now to LUtzen and the 6th of Novem- 
 ber, 1633, we must forget for awhile that " The 
 Sword and the Plough " ever existed, and imagine 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 313 
 
 that we still stand by the bloody bier of the great 
 hero-kinsf, where, the day after the battle, he lay 
 embalmed in the village of Meuchen. 
 
 It was a glorious but terrible sight when the 
 Pappenheimers made their charge upon the Finns 
 on the east side of the river Rippaoh. Mail-clad, 
 irresistible, the cuirassiers descended upon Stal- 
 handske, whose Finnish troopers reeled under this 
 crushing attack: their horses, weary from the long 
 conflict, recoiled, fell backwards, and for a time 
 gave way. But Stalhandske rallied them again, 
 man against man, horse against horse ; they fought 
 with their last strength, indifferent to death ; and 
 friends and enemies were mixed together in bloody 
 confusion. Here fell Pappenheim ; here fell his 
 bravest men ; half of Stalhandske's cavalry were 
 trampled under the horses' hoofs, and yet the strife 
 raged without interruption until twilight. 
 
 At Stalhandske's side rode Bertel ; and so it 
 happened that he met Pappenheim. The youth of 
 twenty was not able to cope with this arm of steel; 
 a blow of the brave general's long sword struck 
 Bertel across the helmet with such crushing force 
 that his eyes were blinded and he became insen- 
 sible. But in falling he unconsciously grasped his 
 faithful horse, Lappen, by the mane, and Lappen, 
 confused by the tumult, galloped away; while his 
 master, with one foot in the stirrup and his hands 
 convulsively twisted in the mane, was dragged with 
 him. 
 
 When Bertel opened his eyes, he was in dense 
 darkness. He remembered vaguely the adventures 
 of the hot struggle; the last thing he there saw 
 Was Pappenheim's lifted sword. The thought en- 
 tered his mind that he was now dead and lying in 
 his grave. He put his hand to his heart, it beat;. 
 
2].4 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 he bit his finger, it pained him. He realized that 
 he was still living, but how and where it was im- 
 possible to guess. He stretched out his hand and 
 picked up some straw. Under him he felt the damp 
 ground, above him the empty air. He tried to raise 
 himself up, but his head was as heavy as lead. It 
 still felt the weight of Pappenheim's sword. 
 
 Then he heard not far from him a voice, which, 
 half complaining, half mocking, uttered the follow- 
 ing words in Swedish : 
 
 " Ghosts and grenades ! Not a drop of wine ! 
 Those scoundrelly Wallachians have stolen my 
 flask; the miserable hen-thieves ! Holloa, Turk or 
 Jew — it is all the same — bring here a drop of 
 wine ! " 
 
 " Is that you, Larsson? " said Bertel. in a faint 
 voice; for his tongue was half paralyzed by a burn- 
 ing thirst. 
 
 " What sort of a marmot is it that whispers 
 my name?" responded his neighbor, in the dark- 
 ness. "Hurrah, boys! loose reins and a brisk gal- 
 lop ! When you have emptied your pistols, fling 
 them to the devil, and slash away with swords ! 
 Cleave their skulls, the brutes; peel them like tur- 
 nips. Beat them, grind them to powder! The king 
 
 has fallen Devils and heroes, what a king! .... 
 
 To-day we shall bleed; to-day we shall die; but 
 first we must be revenged. That's the way, boys! 
 Hurrah! Pitch in. East Bothnians! " 
 
 "Larsson," repeated Bertel; but his comrade 
 did not hear him. He continued in his delirium 
 to lead his Finnish boys in the conflict. 
 
 After awhile a streak of the late autumn 
 morning dawned in through the window of the 
 miserable hut where Bertel lay. He could now 
 distinguish the straw which was strewn over the 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 215 
 
 bare ground; and on the straw he saw two men 
 asleep. 
 
 The door opened; a couple of wild bearded men 
 entered, and pushed the slumberers rudely with the 
 butts of their guns. 
 
 " Rails 1 " cried they, in Low Dutch; " reveille 
 has sounded! " 
 
 And outside the hut was heard the well-known 
 trura pet-blast, which at that time was the usual 
 signal to break camp. 
 
 " They may spear me like a frog," muttered one 
 of the men, sulkily, " if I know what our reverend 
 father intends to do with these unbelieving dogs. 
 He might as well give tliem a passport to the arch- 
 fiend, their lord and master." 
 
 " Blockhead! " retorted the other; " do you not 
 know that the heretic king's death is to be cele- 
 brited with great pomp and state at Ingolstadt ? 
 The reverend father intends to hold a grand auto- 
 da-f^ in honor of the solemn occasion. " 
 
 The two sleepers rose, half awake; and Bertel 
 recognized, by the faint morning light, the little 
 thick-set Larsson, of the East Bothnians, and his 
 own faithful Pekka. But there was no time for 
 explanations. All three were led out, bound, and 
 packed intp a cart; after which the train, consisting 
 of a long line of wounded men and baggage-wag- 
 ons, under guard of the Croats, set itself slowly in 
 motion. 
 
 Bertel now realized that he and his countrymen 
 were prisoners of the Imperialists. His memory 
 soon cleared, and he learned from his companions 
 in misfortune how it had all happened. When the 
 faithful Lappen felt the reins loose, he galloped 
 with his unconscious rider back to the camp. But 
 a swarm of the rapacious Croats were here, com- 
 
316 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 mitting their depredations, and when they saw a 
 Swedish officer dragged half-dead after the horse, 
 they took him with them in the hope of a good 
 ransom. Pelcka, who would not desert his master, 
 was taken prisoner at the same time. Larsson, for 
 his part, had, at the Pappenheiraers' attack, ven- 
 tured too far among the enemy, received a pike 
 thrust in the shoulder and a wound in the arm, 
 and being unable to cut his way through, had been 
 borne along by the stream. Who had conquered, 
 Larsson did not know with certainty. 
 
 It was now the third day after the battle; they 
 had marched in a southerly direction a day and 
 night without stopping, and then rested a few hours 
 in a deserted and plundered village. 
 
 " Cursed pack ! " exclaimed the little cajitain, 
 whose jovial disposition did not abandon him 
 even in the jolting peasant cart; " if only they hadn't 
 stolen my flask, so that we might have drank Fin- 
 land's health together ! But these Croats are a 
 thieving set, compared to which our gypsies at 
 home are innocent angels. I wish I had a couple 
 of hundred of them to hang on the ramparts of 
 Korsholm, as they hang petticoats on the walls of 
 a Finnish garret." 
 
 In the meantime the march continued, with brief 
 halts, for three or four days, not without great suf- 
 fering and discomfort for the wounded, who, badly 
 bandaged, were hindered by their fetters from as- 
 sisting each other. In the beginning they trav- 
 eled through a plundered region, where with diffi- 
 culty they obtained the slightest refreshment, and 
 where the population everywhere took to flight be- 
 fore the dreaded Croats. But they soon came to 
 richer sections, where the Catholic inhabitants 
 showed themselves only to curse the heretic's and 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 317 
 
 exult over their king's fall. The whole Catholic 
 world shared this rejoicing. It is stated that in 
 Madrid brilliant spectacles were performed, in 
 which Gustav Adolf, another dragon,was conquered 
 by Wallenstein, another St. George. 
 
 After seven days' tiresome journey, the cart 
 with the captive Finns drove, late one evening, 
 over a clattering draw-bridge, and stopped in a 
 narrow castle yard. The prisoners, still disabled 
 from their wounds, were led out and taken up two 
 crumbling jflights of stairs into a turret room in the 
 form of a half-circle. It seemed to Bertel as if he 
 had seen this place before; but darkness and fa- 
 tigue did not allow him to clearly distinguish 
 objects. The stars shone in through the grated 
 windows. The prisoners were refreshed with a cup 
 of wine, and Larsson exclaimed, joyously : 
 
 "I wager that the thieves have stolen their 
 wine from our cellars, while we lay in Wiirtzburg; 
 for better stuff I never drank! " 
 
 "Wiirtzburg! " exclaimed Bertel, thoughtfully. 
 "Regina!" added he, almost unconsciously. 
 
 "And the wine-cellar!" sighed Larsson, mim- 
 icking him. " I will tell you something, my dear 
 boy: 
 
 ' The biggest fool in the world 
 Is he who believes a girl; 
 When love, the heart-thief, comes to harry, 
 Espouse the girl, but the wine-cup marry.' 
 
 "As far as Regina is concerned, the black-eyed 
 maiden sits and knits stockings at Korsholm. Yes, 
 yes, Lady Martha is not one of those who sigh in 
 the moonlight. Since we last met I have had news 
 from Wasa through the jolly sergeant, Bengt Kris- 
 terson. He had fought with your father, he said, 
 10 
 
318 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 There is no nonsense about the old man; he car- 
 ried Bengt out at arm's-length, and threw him 
 down the steps there at your home in Storkyro. 
 Bengt swore he would stuff the old man and twelve 
 of his men into the windmill, and grind them to 
 groats; but Meri begged them off. Brave fellow, 
 Bengt Kristerson! — fights like a dragon and lies 
 like a skipper. Your health! " 
 
 "What else did you hear from East Bothnia?" 
 asked Bertel, who, with a youth's bashfulness, 
 colored at the thought of revealing to the prosaic 
 friend his life's secret, his love for the dark-eyed, 
 beautiful and unhappy Regina von Emmeritz. 
 
 " Not much news, except scant harvests, heavy 
 war-taxes, and conscriptions. The old men on the 
 farm, your father and mine, squabble as usual, and 
 make up again. Meri pines for you, and sings 
 sorrowful songs. Do you remember Katri? — splen- 
 did girl; round as a turnip, red as mountain-ash 
 berries,' and soft about the chin as a lump of but- 
 ter. Your health, my boy! — she has run away with 
 a soldier! " 
 
 "Nothing else?" said Bertel, abstractedly. 
 
 " Nothing else! What the d 1 do you want 
 
 to know, when you don't care for the most buxom 
 girl in all Storkyro? 'i7a, noch etwas,^ says the 
 German. There has been a great fray at Korsholm. 
 The recruits got it into their heads that Lady 
 Regina had tried to kill the king with witchcraft, 
 so they stormed Korsholm, and burned the girl 
 alive. Cursedly jolly! — here's to the heretics! We 
 also know how to get up autos-da-fe." 
 
 Bertel started up, forgetting his wounds; but 
 pain overpowered him. Without a sound, he sank 
 tainting in Larsson's arms. 
 
 The honest captain became both angry and 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 219 
 
 troubled. While he bathed Bertel's temples with 
 the wine left in the tankard, and finally brought 
 him to life again, he gave vent to his feelings in 
 the following words — crescendo from piano to 
 forte, from minor to major: 
 
 " There, there, Beftel . . . what ails you? 
 Does the devil ride you, boy? Are you in love 
 with the girl? Well, well, calm yourself. Faint 
 like a lady's maid? Courage! — did I say they had 
 burned her? No, my boy, she was only roasted a 
 little, according to what Bengc Kristerson says, and 
 afterward she scratched both eyes out of Lady 
 Martha and climbed like a squirrel up on top of the 
 castle. Such things happen every day in war. . . 
 Well, you have got your eyes open at last. So 
 you are still alive, you milk-baked wheat-cake! 
 Are you not ashamed, boy, to be like a piece of 
 china? You a soldier? A pretty soldier you are! 
 £KtzdonnerweUerkreutspappenheim! you are a po- 
 made-pot, and no soldier! Curse it! now the 
 tankard is empty!" 
 
 The little round warrior would undoubtedly 
 have continued to give free reins to his bad humor, 
 especially as he had no longer any consolation in 
 the tankard, had not the door opened and a female 
 form stepped in among the prisoners. At this 
 sight, the captain's puffy although now somewhat 
 pale face brightened perceptibly. Bertel was 
 pushed aside, and Larsson leaned forward, so as to 
 see better; for the light of the single lamp was 
 quite dim. But the result of his survey did not 
 seem especially satisfactory. 
 
 "A nun! Ah, by Heaven ... to convert 
 us!" 
 
 " Peace be with you," sounded a youthful voice, 
 of fresh and agreeable tone, from under the 
 
220 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 veil. " I am sent here by the reverend prioress 
 of the convent of Our Lady, to bind your 
 wounds, and, if it is the will of the saints, to heal 
 them." 
 
 " Upon my honor, beautiful friend, I am very 
 much obliged; let us then become a little better 
 acquainted," replied the captain, somewhat more 
 mildly disposed, and stretched out his hand with 
 the intention of raising the nun's veil. Instantly 
 the latter drew back a few stepspand just then 
 two soldiers, of forbidding aspect, appeared at the 
 door. 
 
 "Ah, I understand!" exclaimed Larsson, 
 startled. " The devil! what proud nuns they have 
 here! When I was in Franconia, at Wiirtzburg, I 
 used to get at least half a dozen kisses a day from 
 the young sisters in the convent; for such sins are 
 never refused absolution. Well," continued the 
 brave captain, when the nun still lingered, hesitat. 
 ing, at the door, " your reverence must not take 
 offence at a soldier's freedom of speech. Nun- 
 quam nemo nasiticr caballerus, says the Spaniard; 
 an honest soldier is born a gallant. Your reverence 
 sees that I, although an unbelieving heretic, can 
 talk Latin like a true monk. When we were at 
 Munich I lived in intimate friendship with a gen- 
 uine Bavarian nun, twenty-seven years old, brown 
 eyes, Roman nose . . ." 
 
 "Hold your tongue!" whispered Bertel, impa- 
 tiently. "You will drive the nun away." 
 
 " I haven't said a word. Walk in, your rever- 
 ence; don't be frightened. I wager it is a good 
 while since your reverence was twenty-seven. 
 J'osito, as the Frenchman says, that your reverence 
 is an old granny." 
 
 The nun returned in silence, accompanied by 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 331 
 
 two sisters-in-waiting, and began to examine the 
 wound on Bertel's head, which had been badly- 
 dressed. A delicate white hand drew out a pair of 
 scissors and cut off the youth's hair at each side of 
 the broad mark left by Pappenheim's sword. Within 
 twenty minutes Bertel's wounds were dressed by 
 a skilful hand. The youth, touched by this com- 
 passion, raised the nun's hand to his lips and kissed 
 it. 
 
 " Upon my honor, beautiful matron," cried the 
 voluble captain, " I feel half inclined to be jealous 
 of my friend, who is fifteen years younger than I. 
 Now deign to stretch out your gentle hand and 
 plaster this brave arm, which has conquered the 
 piety of so many pious sisters." 
 
 The nun, still without speaking, began to undo 
 the ragged scarf which covered Larsson's wounds. 
 Her hand, in doing this, happened to touch his. 
 
 " Potz donnerwetter!" burst out the captain, 
 with a connoisseur's surprise. "What a fine, soft 
 little hand! I beg your pardon, amiable lady doc- 
 tor; ex ungua leonem, says Saint Homer, one of 
 the fathers of the church . . . for I also have 
 studied the fathers of the church . . . that is 
 to say, in good Swedish, by the paw one knows the 
 lion. I wager ten bottles of old Rhine wine 
 against a cast-off stirrup, that this little white hand 
 is much better fitted to caress a cavalier's cheek 
 than to finger rosaries night and day." 
 
 The nun drew her hand away for an instant, and 
 seemed to hesitate. The gallant captain began to 
 fear the consequences of his gallantry. " I will 
 say nothing more; 1 am as silent as a Carthusian 
 monk. But I do say, that one who dares to pre- 
 sume that such a soft hand belongs to an old 
 
222 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 granny . . . well, well, your lovely reverence 
 hears that I am silent." 
 
 " Tempiis est consicmmatum, itur in missam" 
 said a sepulchral voice at the door, and the nun 
 hastened to finish dressing the wound. In a few 
 moments the two prisoners were again alone. 
 
 " I have heard that voice before," remarked 
 Bertel, thoughtfully. " Are we then surrounded 
 by nothing but mysteries?" 
 
 "Bah! " replied the captain, "it was a bald- 
 headed, jealous monk. Bless me, what a sweet 
 little hand! " 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 TWO OLD ACQUAINTANCES. 
 
 THE following morning, as the late autumn sun 
 sent its first rays into the turret-room, Bertel 
 arose and went to take a look out of the narrow 
 grated window. It was a glorious prospect. Be- 
 low him wound a magnificent stream, on whose 
 further shore lay a town with thirty spires, and 
 beyond were seen a number of still verdant vine- 
 yards. 
 
 At the first glance, Bertel recognized Wiirtz- 
 burg. Castle Marienburg, where the prisoners were 
 confined, had, at the Swedes' retreat, fallen again 
 into the bishop's hands; but on account of the in- 
 security of the times, his princely grace had not 
 returned there himself, but remained most of the 
 time in Vienna. The castle had suffered much 
 from the last conquest and the attendant plunder- 
 ing; one tower had been destroyed, and the moat 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 333 
 
 was filled up in several places. At present there 
 were only fifty men in the garrison, but there were 
 sick and wounded, nursed by the sisters of charity 
 from the convent in the town. When Bertel in- 
 spected his prison more closely, he thought he re- 
 cognized Regina's chamber, the samS one where 
 the beautiful lady with her maid contemplated the 
 strife, and where the Swedish cannon-ball shattered 
 the image of the saint in the window.* This dis- 
 covery seemed beyond value to the romantic youth. 
 Here had she stood, the wondrously beautiful un- 
 happy daughter of the prince; here had she slum- 
 bered the last night before the assault. It was in 
 Bertel's eyes a sacred place; when he pressed his 
 lips to the cold walls, he fancied that he kissed the 
 traces of Regina's tears. 
 
 Like a flash, a strange thought ran through his 
 mind. If the nun who visited them yesterday 
 could have been a disguised princess ! . . if the 
 delicate white hand belonged to — Regina ! That 
 would be a miracle, but . . . love believes in 
 miracles. Bertel's heart beat violently. The 
 gentle nurse's care had already greatly improved 
 his neglected wounds. He felt twice as strong 
 already. 
 
 His companions in misfortune, tired from the 
 journey, were still asleep. Then the door opened 
 softly, and with noiseless step the nun entered, to 
 bring the wounded men a healing draught. Bertel 
 felt his head swim. Overcome by his violent emo- 
 tion, he fell on his knees before her. 
 
 " Your name, you angel of mercy, who remem- 
 ber the imprisoned ! " exclaimed he. "Tell me 
 your name, reveal your face ! . . . Ah, I should 
 
 * Here the Surgeon seems to have forgotten that Eeglna's room was In 
 the tower shot down at the selge. — The A utkor. 
 
224 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 recognize you among a thousand. . . . You are 
 Regiiia herself ! " 
 
 " You are mistaken," said the same fresh 
 voice which Bertel had heard yesterday. It was 
 not Regiiia's voice, and yet it was a very familiar 
 one; but whose ? 
 
 Bertel sprang up, and snatched the veil from 
 the nun's liead. Before him stood the pretty and 
 gentle KStchen, with a smiling face. Bertel 
 stepped back, bewildered. 
 
 "Impudent one!" said Katchen, and hastily 
 covered her face. " I had desired to have you 
 under my charge, and you force me to leave my 
 place to another." 
 
 Katchen disappeared. That same day, in the 
 afternoon, a nun again entered the room. Larsson 
 delivered an eloquent harangue, raised her hand 
 to his lips, and pressed upon it a resounding kiss. 
 Then he swore by a million devils, he hud kissed 
 an old withered hand, whose surface was like hun- 
 dred-year-old parchment. 
 
 " Verily, my dear Bertel," said the deceived 
 captain, with philosophic resignation, -"there are 
 things in nature which must eternally remain an 
 enigma to human sagacity. This hand, for ex- 
 ample . . . mantis, mana, manum, hand, as the 
 old Roman so truly expressed himself . . . this 
 hand, my friend, would undoubtedly occupy a con- 
 spicuous place in the Greek poet Ovid's Metamor- 
 phoses, which we formerly studied in the cathedral 
 school at Abo, the time my father wanted to make 
 me a priest. Yesterday I could have pledged my 
 soul that it was a delicate lady's hand; and to-day 
 I will let them shave me into a monk if this hand 
 docs not belong to a seventy-year-old washerwo- 
 man. Sic unde ubi apud unquam post, as they 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 235 
 
 expressed themselves in olden times. That is to 
 sa3' : so can a pretty girl become a witch before 
 any one knows it." 
 
 The pri -oners' wounds healed rapidly under the 
 carelul nursinj? of the nuns. The dark autumn 
 storm roared around the castle turrets, and the 
 heavy rains beat against the small windows. The 
 vinevaids withered; a thick and chilling mist arose 
 fiom the Main, and obscured the view of the 
 town. 
 
 ■' I can't stand it any longer," grumbled Larsson. 
 *' These wretches give us neither wine nor dice. 
 And may Saint Brila forgive me, but the devil 
 may kiss their nuns; I will neither kiss hand nor 
 month, for habeo multum respecttim pro matroni- 
 bus, — I have much respect for old women. No, I 
 can't stand it, 1 will jump out of the window . . ." 
 
 " Do it," said Bertel, provoked. 
 
 " No, I will not jump out of the window," re- 
 joined the captain. "No my friend, micus ameus, 
 as we used to express ourselves. ... I shall in- 
 stead honor this fellow-prisoner of ours with a game 
 of pitch and toss." 
 
 And the captain, fertile in resources, was pleas- 
 ed to honor Pekka for the thirtieth time with the 
 monotonous game which constituted his diversion^ 
 and which was played with a six f3re piece of 
 Charlps X. 
 
 " Tell me, rather," resumed Bertel, "what they 
 are building there on the square in Wiirtzburg 
 opposite us?" 
 
 " A tavern," answered Larsson. " Heads !" 
 
 " It seems to me to look more like a pyre." 
 
 "Tails!" repeated Larsson, mechanically. 
 " Plague on it, what ill-luck I have! That cursed 
 
 P 
 
236 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 Limingo peasant wins from me horse, saddle, and 
 stirrups." 
 
 " The first morning of our imprisonment," con- 
 tinued Bertel, "I heard them say something about 
 an auto-da fS, in celebration of the battle of Liitzen. 
 What do you think of it?" 
 
 " I ? What should I have against burning a 
 dozen witches, much to our amusement ?" 
 
 " But if it now concern us? If they were only 
 waiting for the bishop's arrival?" 
 
 Larsson opened his small gray eyes, and stroked 
 his goatee. " Blitzdonnerkreutz! . . . the 
 miserable Jesuits! They would roast us like tur- 
 keys — us, the conquerors of the holy Roman em- 
 pire! . . It seems to me, friend Bertel, that in 
 such desperate circumstances, in rebus desperatus, 
 an honest soldier could not be blamed if he should 
 quietly steal away — for example, through the win- 
 dow . . ." 
 
 " It is seventy feet above the Main, and the 
 flood is straight beneath." 
 
 "The door?" . . . continued the captain, 
 inquiringly. 
 
 " It is guarded night and day by two armed 
 men." 
 
 The honest captain sank into melancholy reflec- 
 tions. Time passed; it became afternoon; it be- 
 came night. The nun with the evening repast was 
 not heard from. 
 
 " Festivities begin with fasting," muttered the 
 captain, gruffly. " May I turn into a fish if I don't 
 wring the neck of our neglectful nun the first time 
 she shows herself." 
 
 At that instant the door opened and the nun 
 entered, but this time without attendants. Larsson 
 exchanged an expressive glance with his comrades, 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 327 
 
 approached the nun hastily, seized her by the neck, 
 and held her fast against the wall. 
 
 " Keep still, like a good child, most reverend 
 abbess," mocked the captain. " If you make a 
 sound, it is ail over with you. I ought really to 
 throw you out of the window to swim in the Main, 
 so as to teach you punctum preciosum, that is to 
 say, a precise punctuality in your attendance upon 
 us. But I will let grace prevail instead of justice. 
 Tell me only, you most miserable of all meal-bring- 
 ers, miserabile pecorale, what is the meaning of that 
 fire they are preparing on the square, and who is 
 going to be roasted there? " 
 
 "For the sake of all the saints, speak low!" 
 whispered the nun, in a scarcely audible voice. " I 
 am Katchet), and have come to save you. A great 
 danger threatens you. The prince bishop is ex- 
 pected to-morrow, and Father Hieronymus, the 
 implacable enemy of you and all other Finns, has 
 sworn to burn you alive in honor of the saints." 
 
 "The little, delicate, soft hand!" exclaimed 
 Larsson, in delight. " Upon my honor, if I was not 
 a booby not to recognize it immediately. Well, 
 then, my charming friend, to Saint Brita's honor I 
 will take a kiss on the spot . . ," 
 
 And the captain kept his word. But Katchen 
 tore herself from him, and said rapidly: 
 
 " If you do not behave yourself, young man, 
 you will furnish fuel to the flame, that is certain. 
 Quick, bind me fast to the bed-post and tie a hand- 
 kerchief over my mouth." 
 
 " Bind you fast . . ." replied the captain 
 roguishly. 
 
 "Quick! The guards have had wine and are 
 asleep, but in twenty minutes they will be visited 
 by the father himself. Take their cloaks and 
 
228 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 hasten out. The watchword is ' Peter and 
 Paul.'" 
 
 "And you, yourself ?" demurred the captain. 
 
 "They will find me bound; I have been over- 
 powered and gagged." 
 
 "Noble s;iri! Crown among: all Franconia's 
 sisters of charity! Had I not sworn never to 
 marry . . Well, hurry up, Bertel! Hurry, 
 Pekka, you lazy dog! Farewell, little rogue! One 
 more kiss . . . good-by! " 
 
 And the three prisoners hastened out. 
 
 But scarcely were they outside the door, on the 
 dark spiral staircase, before they felt themselves 
 seized by iron hands, thrown down and bound. 
 
 "Take the dogs down to the treasure-room!" 
 said a well-known voice. 
 
 It was the voice of the Jesuit Hieronymus. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 THE teeasure-eoom:. 
 
 OVERPOWERFJD and bound hand and foot, 
 the prisoners soon found themselves in the 
 dark, damp dungeon, hewn deep in the rock, where 
 the bishop of Wurtzburg had kept his treasure 
 before the Swedes saved him the trouble. No ray 
 of light penetrated into this musty vault, and the 
 moisture from the rocks trickled through the crev- 
 ices and dripped monotonously on the ground. 
 
 "Lightning and Croats! may all demons take 
 you, cursed earless monk!" yelled the captain, 
 when he again felt the firm ground under his feet. 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 229 
 
 " To shut us up, the officers of his royal majesty 
 and the crown, in such a rat-trap! Diaholus in- 
 f emails multum plus plurimum! . . Are you 
 alive, Bertel?" 
 
 " Yes. In order to be burned alive to-morrow." 
 
 " Do you think so, Bertel?" asked the captain, 
 almost sadly. 
 
 " I know this treasure-room. On three sides is 
 the rock, on the fourth a door of iron, and the man 
 who guards us is harder than rock and iron. Never 
 shall we see Finland again. Never shall I see her 
 njore . . ." 
 
 " Listen to me, Bertel ; you are a sensible fel- 
 low, but that does not hinder you from sometimes 
 talking like a milksop. You are in love with the 
 black-haired Regina; well, well, I will say nothing 
 about that: Amor est valcle lurifaxius, — love is a 
 bandit, — as Ovid so truly expresses himself. But I 
 cannot stand whimpering. If wp live, there are 
 enough other girls to kiss; if we die, then we will 
 say good-riddance to them. So you really think 
 that they intend to roast us like plucked wood- 
 cocks?" 
 
 "That depends upon yourselves!" answered 
 a voice from the darkness. All three prisoners 
 started with affright. 
 
 "The evil one is amongst us! " exclaimed Lars- 
 son. 
 
 Pekka began to say his prayers. Then the 
 clear rays of a dark-lantern pierced the gloom, and 
 all perceived the Jesuit Hieronymus standing 
 alone near the captives. 
 
 "It depends upon you," repeated he. " To fly 
 is impossible. Your king is dead, your army is 
 beaten, the whole world acknowledges the power 
 of the church and the emperor. The pile is ready 
 
230 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 for your bodies to be burned in honor of the saints. 
 But, the holy church, in its clemency, has thought 
 of a way of still sparing you, and has sent me here 
 to offer you mercy." 
 
 "Indeed!" exclaimed Larsson, mockingly. 
 " Come, reverend father, loose my bonds and let 
 me embrace you. 1 offer you my friendship, and 
 of course you believe me. How says Seneca? — 
 homo homini lupus, wir Wolfe sind alle BruderP * 
 
 " I offer you mercy," continued the Jesuit, 
 coldly, "on three conditions, which you certainly 
 will not refuse. The first is, that you abjure your 
 heretic faith and publicly join the only saving 
 church." 
 
 "Never! " exclaimed Bertel, fiercely. 
 
 "Be still!" said the captain. "Well, posito 
 that we abjure the Lutheran faith?" 
 
 "Then," continued the Jesuit, "you shall, as 
 prisoners of war, be exchanged for the high-born 
 lady and princess Retina von Emmeritz, whom 
 your king tyrannically sent in captivity to the 
 North." 
 
 " It shall be done!" answered Bertel, eagerly. 
 
 "Be still! " cried Larsson. "Well, go ow^po&ito 
 that we accomplish the high-born lady's deliver- 
 ance?" 
 
 " Then there remains but a trifle. I demand of 
 Lieutenant Bertel King Gustaf Adolf's ring." 
 
 " Your purse or your life, in highwayman fash- 
 ion! " said Larsson, derisively. 
 
 " You ask what I do not possess," answered 
 Bertel. 
 
 The Jesuit looked at him distrustfully. 
 
 " The king commanded Duke Bernhard to give 
 you the ring, and you must have received it." 
 
 * We wolves are all brothers. 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 231 
 
 "All this is entirely unknowa to me," said 
 Bertel, with perfect truth, but feeling surprised 
 and overjoyed at the unexpected intelligence. 
 
 The Jesuit resumed, his smiling composure. 
 
 " If that is the way the case stands, my dear 
 sons," said he, " let us talk no more about the 
 ring. As far as your conversion to the true church 
 is concerned . . ." 
 
 Bertel was about to answer, but was interrupted 
 by the captain, who for some moments had been 
 engaged in a certain rubbing motion with that part 
 of his body not reached by the light of the lantern. 
 
 " Yes, so far as that matter is concerned," 
 Larsson hastened to interpose, "you know, rever- 
 end fatiier, that there are two sides to it: quostio 
 an and quentio quomodo. Now to speak first of 
 questio an, my late rector Vincentius Flachsenius 
 , used to say, in his time, always place negare as 
 prima regula juris. Your reverence will undoubt- 
 edly find it unexpected and pleasant to hear a royal 
 captain talk Latin like a cardinal. Yonr reverence 
 ought, therefore, to know that we-, in Abo Cathe- 
 dral school, studied both Cicero, Seneca, and Ovid, 
 also called Naso. For my part, I have always con- 
 sidered Cicero a great talker, and Seneca a block- 
 head; but as for Ovid . . ." 
 
 The Jesuit moved toward the door, and said, 
 dryly: 
 
 "Thus you choose the stake?" 
 
 " Rather that than the disgrace of an apostacy! " 
 exclaimed Bertel, who had^ot noticed Larsson's 
 hints and sisrns. 
 
 " My friend," the captain hastened to add, " my 
 friend thinks, quite sensibly and naturally, that the 
 ugly part of the matter would be the public scan- 
 dal. Thus, reverend father, let us confer about 
 
233 TIMES OF GVSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 questio' quomodo. JPosito that we become good 
 Catholics, and enter into the emperor's service 
 . . . But deign to come a little nearer; my 
 friend Bertel is rather hard of hearing ever since 
 he had the pleasure of making the acquaintance 
 of the great Pappenheim." 
 
 The Jesuit cautiously advanced a few steps 
 closer, yet not without convincing himself l>y a 
 glance that retreat stood open. 
 
 "It is I who decide the manner," said he, 
 haughtily. "Yes or no?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, of course," replied Larsson, quickly, 
 as he continued to rub himself. "Consequently 
 we are in clear waters both with questio an and 
 questio quomodo. Your reverence has a most per- 
 suasive eloquence. We now come to questio ubi 
 and questio qitando, for according to loyicuin and 
 metaphysicam . . Paidon me, worthy father, 
 I don't have a word of objection; I consent to it 
 all. But," continued the captain, as he lowered 
 his voice, " deign to cast a glance at my friend 
 Bertel's right forefinger. I will tell your reverence, 
 jny friend is a great rogue; I am very much mis- 
 taken if he does not have the king's ring on at this 
 -very moment." 
 
 The Jesuit, carried away by his curiosity, came 
 a few steps nearer. Swift as an eel, Larsson, un- 
 able to rise on account of his botids, rolleil himself 
 between the Jesuit and the door, and when the 
 monk wished to retreat, he found that the captain 
 had scraped against a sharp stone the ligatures 
 which held his right arm, with which he suddenly 
 embraced the Jesuit's legs, and drew him down 
 over him. Father Hieronymus made desperate 
 efforts to free himself; the lantern was broken into 
 fragments, the light extinguished, and a thick 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 233 
 
 darkness enveloped the wrestlers. Bertel and 
 Pekka, both unable to get up and help, rolled 
 themselves toward the spot, but without reaching 
 it. Then the brave captain felt a sharp pain in his 
 shoulder, and directly afterwards a warm stream of 
 blood. "With a Blitzdonnerkreutz! he wrenched 
 the dagger from his enemy's hand and returned the 
 stab. The Jesuit now sued for mercy in his turn. 
 
 " With the greatest pleasure, my son! " answered 
 the captain, mockingly. " But only on three con- 
 ditions: the first is, that you abjure Loyola, your 
 lord and master, and declare him a great milksop. 
 Do you agree to it?" 
 
 " I agree to everything," sighed the father. 
 
 " The second is, that you start off and hang 
 yourself to the first hook you find in the ceiling." 
 
 " Yes, yes, only let go of me." 
 
 " The third is, that you travel to Beelzebub, 
 your patron saint," . . . and with these words, 
 Larsson flung his enemy violently against the 
 rocky wall, after which the place became quite 
 silent. The dagger was now used hastily to cut 
 the prisoners' bonds, and then it only remained to 
 find the door. 
 
 When the three fugitives, after having bolted 
 the door of the treasure-room from without, reach- 
 ed the dark narrow staircase which led to the 
 upper regions of the castle, they stopped a moment 
 to consult together. Their situation was anything 
 but enviable, for they knew of old that the stairs 
 led to the bishop's former bedchamber, from 
 whence two or three parlors had to be crossed be- 
 fore they came to the large armory, and through 
 that to the castle-yard, after which they still had 
 to pass the closed drawbridge and the guard. All 
 the rooms except the bedchamber, which the 
 10* 
 
334 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 Jesuit himself seemed to have taken possession of, 
 had only two hours before, when the prisoners 
 were brought down, been filled partly with soldiers,, 
 partly with the siok and their nurses. 
 
 " One thing grieves me," whispered Larsson, 
 "and that is that I did not draw the fur off the fox 
 when I held him by the ears. In the garment's of 
 piety I could have gone scot-free through purga- 
 tory, like another Saulus inter prophetas. But as 
 it is, my friend Bertei, I ask, in my simplicity: how 
 shall we get away from here?" 
 
 " We will fight our way through. The garri- 
 son are asleep; the darkness of night favors us." 
 
 " I confess, my friend, that if anybody, even 
 were it 1, Larsson himself, should call you a 
 coward, I would call that fellow a liar. It is true 
 that you once, as good as solo, alone, alienus, all by 
 yourself, took this castle; but you had then at 
 least a sword in your hand and a few thousand 
 brave boys in the rear. . . . Hush! I hear a tread 
 on the stairs; — no, it was nothing. Let us pushi 
 on cautiously. Here it stands one in need to tread 
 like a maiden: that stupid Limingo peasant tramps 
 as if we had a squadron of cavalry at our heels." 
 
 The fugitives had ascended about thirty or 
 forty steps, and the way still led upward, when a 
 faint ray of light glimmered at the top of the pas- 
 sage. They came to a door, which stood ajar. They 
 stopped and held their breath; not a sound was- 
 heard. The brave captain now ventured to push in 
 his head, then his foot, and finally his whole stout 
 person. 
 
 "We are on the right track," whispered he; 
 "boots off! the whole company must march in 
 stockings — posito that the company has stockings. 
 March!" 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 235- 
 
 The bishop's bedchamber, which the three now 
 entered on tip-toe, was a large and once magnifi- 
 cent room. A fliclcering lamp dimly illumined the 
 precious Gobelin tapestry ,the gilded images of the 
 saints, wnd the ebony bedstead, inlaid with pearl,, 
 where the rich prelate used to fall asleep with his 
 goblet of Rhine wine beside him. No living crea- 
 ture was to be seen; but from one of the windows 
 which overlooked the court-yard they could seethe 
 castle chapel opposite brilliantly lighted, and filled 
 with people. Even the castle-yard, which was 
 lighted by the reflection from the windows, was 
 thronged with people, many of whom carried' 
 candles in their hands. 
 
 " I will let them salt and pickle me like cucum- 
 bers in a jar, if I understand what all those people 
 are doing here in the middle of the night," mut- 
 tered the captain testily. Perhaps they have come 
 to see three honest Finnish soldiers roasted by a 
 slow fire like Aland herrings!" 
 
 " We must look for weapons, and die like men," 
 said Bertel, as he searched through the room. 
 " Hurrah ! " exclaimed he, " here are three swords, 
 just what we need." 
 
 "• And three daggers," added Larsson, who, in 
 a large niche behind the image of a saint, had 
 found a small arsenal of all sorts of weapons. "The 
 reverend fathers have a weakness for daggers, as 
 the East Bothnians have for their sheath-knives." 
 
 "I think," joined in the close-mouthed Pekka, 
 as he caught sight of a good-sized nask in a cor- 
 ner, " I think that as it is Christmas night . . . . " 
 
 " Brave boy ! " interrupted the captain, inspired 
 by this prospect; " you have a remarkable scent 
 when it is a question of something to drink. Pious 
 Jesuit ! you have accomplished some good in the? 
 
236 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 world ! Christmas nisrht, did you say ? Blockhead! 
 why didn't you tell us at once? It is as clear 
 as day, that half Wiirtzburg is streaming to 
 the castle to hear Father Hieionymus say mass. 
 By rhy honor, I am afraid he will make them wait 
 some time, the good pater. Here goes, my friend; 
 I drink to you; an officer ought always to set his 
 troops a good exjtmple. Your health my boys. . . 
 Damnation ! . . . the miserable monk has cheated 
 us ; I have swallowed poison; I am a dead man ! " 
 And the honest captain became pale as a corpse. 
 
 But both Bertel and Pekka had hard work to 
 restrain their laughter, not\7ithstandiiig their 
 dangerous situation, when they saw Larsson at once 
 white from fright and black from the fluid he had 
 drank and spilled over himself. 
 
 " Be more moderate another time," said Bertel, 
 " and you will avoid drinking ink." 
 
 "Ink! I might have known that the earless 
 scrawler would be up to some deviltry. Two 
 things trouble me to-night more than all autos-da- 
 y/; that the sweet KUtchen, with the soft hand, 
 deceived us, and that 1 have sv^allowed the most 
 useless stuff in the world — ink. Bah ! " 
 
 " If we had nothing else to do, I could show 
 you something that ink has done," rejoined Bertel, 
 as he hastily turned over a pile of papers on the 
 writing-table. " Here is a letter from the princely 
 bishop ... he is coming to-morrow ... we are 
 to be solemnly burned . • . they will tempt us 
 to abjure our faith, and promise us grace . . . but 
 burn us, nevertheless ! Infamous ! " 
 
 " Roman fashion !" observed the captain, phleg- 
 matically. 
 
 In the meantime Larsson had drawn out three 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 237 
 
 monks' cloaks; tliey put them on, and now ven- 
 tured to proceed farther in the dangerous regions. 
 
 The next two rooms were empty. Two rude 
 beds gave evidence that some serving brothers had 
 their abode liere, and were now gone to mass. 
 
 "Bravo !" wliispered Larsson, "they will take 
 us for sheep in wolves' clothing, and believe that 
 we also are going to attend mass. . . . Hark ! 
 didn't you hear something ? — a woman's voice ? 
 Be quiet !" , 
 
 They stopped, and heard in the darkness a 
 young female voice, praying : 
 
 "Holy Virgin, forgive me this time, and save 
 me from death; I will to-inoirow take the veil, 
 and serve you all my life !" 
 
 " It is Katchen's voice !" said the captain. "Can 
 it be that she is innocent, poor child ? Upon my 
 honor, it would be base of a cavalier not to rescue 
 a sweet girl with such a soft hand ! " 
 
 " Let us be off !" whispered Bertel, in vexation. 
 But the captain had already found a litile door, 
 bolted on tiie outside; beyond the door was a cell, 
 and in that cell was a trembling girl. Her eyes, 
 accustomed to the darkness, distinguished the 
 monk's garb; slietlirew herself at the captain's feet, 
 and exclaimed : 
 
 "Grace, my father, grace ! I will confess all; I 
 have favored the prisoners' flight, I have given 
 wine to the guard. But spare my life, have mercy 
 upon me for the saints' sake ! I am so young. I 
 do not wish to die yet ! " 
 
 " Who the devil has said that you shall die, my 
 brave girl ?" interrupted the captain. "No, you 
 shall live, with your soft iiand and your warm lips, 
 as true as I am not a Jesuit, but Lars Larsson, 
 captain in the service of his royal majesty and the 
 
338 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 crown and herewith take you ... as my wedded 
 wife, for better or for worse, " continued the cap- 
 tain, undoubtedly because he considered that the 
 well-known formula must be said to an end when 
 he once began it. 
 
 "Away, away! with or without the girl, but 
 away ! — they are coming, and we still have to pass 
 the large armory !" 
 
 " Allow me to tell you, my friend, Bertel, that 
 you are the greatest fiddle-faddle 1 know; maximus 
 Jiescus, as the ancients so truly expressed them- 
 selves. How is it, my girl, you are not a nun, but 
 only a novice ? Well, it is all the same to me. 
 You shall be my wedded wife, in case I ever marry. 
 Here is a cloak; there now, put that on and look 
 bold." 
 
 " It is no cloak, it is a mass-robe," whispered 
 Katchen, who had scarcely time to recover from 
 her amazement. 
 
 " The deuce ! a mass-robe ! Wait; you take 
 my cloak and I will take the robe. I will chant 
 dies ircB, in their ears so that they all will be aston- 
 ished." 
 
 The sound of several voices in the armory out- 
 side interrupted the captain in his priestly medi- 
 tations 
 
 "They have missed the Jesuit; they are looking 
 for him, and we are lost through your silly non- 
 sense," whispered Bertel, in exasperation. "We 
 must now be careful not to betray ourselves. 
 •Come along, all of you." 
 
 " And the Latinist first ! " exclaimed the cap- 
 tain. 
 
 All four went out. In the armory were some 
 thirty sick-beds, but only two sisters in attendance. 
 This sight was reassuring, but all the more danger- 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 239 
 
 ous was the meeting with the two monks, who 
 stood in excited altercation close by the door. 
 When they saw Larsson in the mass-robe, and be- 
 hind him three figures in cloaks, the pious fathers 
 were greatly startled. The captain raised his arms 
 to bless them, uttered a solemn pax vobiscum, and 
 was about to steal by with a grave step when he 
 was checked by the foremost monk. 
 
 " Reverend father," said the latter, as he closely 
 eyed the unknown prelate from head to foot, 
 ^' what procures our castle this honor at so unusual 
 a time?" 
 
 " Pax vobiscum !" repeated the captain de- 
 voutly. " The pious Father Hieronymus com- 
 mands you to say mass the best you know how. 
 . . . His reverence is sick ... he has toothache." 
 " Let us seek his reverence," said one of the 
 monks, entering the smaller room. But the other 
 seized Larsson by the robe, and looked at him in 
 a way which did not at all please the brave cap- 
 tain. 
 
 " Quis vus e, quid eltis .'" repeated the captain, 
 nonplussed. " Qui quoe quod, meus tuus suns . . . 
 go to the devil, you bald-headed baboons ! " roared 
 Larsson, unable to restrain himself longer, and 
 pushed the resisting monks into the chamber and 
 bolted the door. Then all four hastened down to 
 the court-yard. Behind them arose a great outcry; 
 the monks shouted with all their might, the nuns 
 joined in, and soon the attention of the crowd of 
 people who thronged the court-yard began to be 
 attracted. 
 
 " We are lost," whispered Katchen, " unless we 
 can reach the drawbridge by the back way." 
 
 They hastened there. The tumult increased. 
 They passed the guard at the large sally-port. 
 
240 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 "Halt ! Who g-oes there ?" 
 
 " Peter and Paul" answered Bertel, promptly. 
 
 They passed out. Fortunately the drawbridge 
 was down. But the whole castle was now in alarm. 
 
 "Let us jump into the river; the night is dark; 
 they will not find us !" cried Bertel. 
 
 "No," said Larsson, " I will not leave my girl, 
 if it should cost me my neck." 
 
 " Here stand three saddled horses ! Be quick !" 
 
 " Up, you sweetest of all the nuns in Franco- 
 nia ! up in the saddle !" and the agile captain 
 swung the trembling KStchen before him on the 
 horse's back. They all galloped away in the dark- 
 ness. But behind them was tumult and uproar; the 
 alarm-bells sounded in all the turrets, and the 
 whole of Wiirtzburg wondered what could have 
 happened on this Christmas night. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE DUKE AND THE LIEUTENANT. 
 
 ONE spring day in March, 1633, — three months 
 after the events rarrated in the last chbpter 
 — we find Lieutenant Bertel in an ante-chamber of 
 the little military court which the Duke Bernhard 
 of Weimar held sometimes at Cassel, sometimes at 
 Nassau, or at other places where the cares of war 
 brought him. Adjutants came and went, orders 
 flew in all directions, for the duke had a large por- 
 tion of southern and western Germany as his de- 
 partment, and the times were very troublous. 
 
 After waiting a long time, the young officer 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 341 
 
 ■was conducted to the duke. The latter looked up 
 distractedly from his charts and papers, and seemed 
 to expect to be addressed. But Bertel kept silent. 
 
 " Who are you ? " said Duke Bernhard, ab- 
 ruptly and harshly. 
 
 " Gustaf Bertel, lieutenant in Lis royal majesty's 
 Finnish cavalry." 
 
 " What do you want ?" 
 
 The youth colored, and made no reply. The 
 duke perceived this, and regarded him veith dis- 
 pleased looks. 
 
 "I understand," said the latter at length; " you 
 have, as usual, been duelling with the German 
 officers on account of the girls. I will not toler- 
 ate such things. A soldier should reserve his. 
 weapon for his fatherland." 
 
 " I have not been fighting, your highness." 
 
 " So much the worse. Then you come to ask a 
 furlough to Finland. You remain, lieutenant. Good- 
 morning." 
 
 " I do not come to ask a furlough." 
 
 " Indeed ; then what the deuce do you come for? 
 Can you not speak out, sir, quick and short ! Leave 
 it to priests to make prayers, and to girls to blush." 
 
 " Your highness has received a ring from his 
 majesty the late king . . ." 
 
 " I do not remember it." 
 
 "... which his majesty requested your high- 
 ness to deliver to an officer of his life-guard." 
 
 The duke passed his hand over his high brow. 
 
 " The officer is dead," said he. 
 
 " That officer am I, your highness. Wounded 
 at Liitzen, I was directly afterwards takten prisoner 
 by the Imperialists." 
 
 Duke Bernhard beckoned Bertel nearer, looked 
 
 Q n 
 
343 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 at him searchingly, and seemed satisfied with his 
 examination. 
 
 " Close the door," said he, "and seat yourself 
 here at my side." 
 
 Bertel obeyed. His cheeks glowed with anxiety. 
 
 " Young man," said the duke, " on your brow 
 you bear witness of your origin, and I ask no 
 further proof. Your mother is a peasant's daugh- 
 ter, of Stofkyro, in Finland, called Emerentia 
 Aronsdotter Bertila." 
 
 " No, your highness. The person you mention 
 is my elder sister, born of my father's first-marriage. 
 1 have never seen my mother." 
 
 The duke looked at him with surprise. 
 
 "Very well," said he, doubtfully, as he hastily 
 glanced through some papers in his portfolio; " we 
 will, however, speak of this sister of yours, Emer- 
 entia Aronsdotter. Her father had rendered great 
 service to King Charles IX., and was urged to 
 request some sign of favor. He asked to be al- 
 lowed to send his daughter, then his only child, to 
 Stockholm, in order to be educated with young 
 ladies of rank at the court." 
 
 " I know little about that." 
 
 " At thirteen years of age, the young peasant 
 girl was sent to Stockholm, where her father's 
 vanity and wealth procured her a residence, dress, 
 and education, far above her rank. He burned 
 with ambition; and as he himself could not gain a 
 noble crest, he depended upon his daughter's high 
 birth on her mother's side, for Bertila's first wife was 
 an orphan girl of the family Stjernkors, deprived 
 of her inheritance through the war, and then dis- 
 owned by her haughty family on account of her 
 marriage with the rich peasant Bertila." 
 
 " All this is unknown to me." 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 343 
 
 " The young Emerentia suffered very much in 
 Stockholm from the envy and derision of her aris- 
 tocratic companions, for many of tliem were poorer 
 than she and could not endure to see a plebeian 
 placed at their side as an equal. But her beauty 
 was as extraordinary as her goodness and intelli- 
 gence. Within two years she had acquired the 
 refined habits of the best circles, while she pre- 
 served the rustic simplicity of her heart. This 
 rare union of mental and physical graces reminded 
 old persons of a lovely image from their youth 
 . . . Karin Mansdotter." 
 
 At these words the duke gave the young man 
 a sharp glance. But Bertel's expression did not 
 change. All this was to him new and incompre- 
 hensible. 
 
 "Well," continued the duke, after apause, "this 
 beauty was not long unobserved. A very young 
 man of high birth speedily fell in love with the 
 beautiful maiden, who was then only fifteen, and 
 she returned his attachment with all the devotion 
 of first love. This attachment did not long remain 
 unobserved by those around the patrician youth; 
 policy trembled, and the pride of the nobility felt 
 itself offended by this distinction bestowed upon a 
 girl of low birth. They resolved to marry the 
 young girl to an officer, like herself of humble 
 origin, but distinguished for his valor in the Danish 
 war. This intelligence came to the ears of the 
 young couple. Poor children! they were so young, 
 he seventeen, she fifteen, both inexperienced, and 
 in love. Shortly afterward the young man went to 
 the war in Poland; the young girl's marriage came 
 to naught, and she was sent back by the offended 
 nobility to her cabins in Finland, in disgrace. Do 
 
244 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 you wish to know anything more, Lieutenant 
 Bertel?" 
 
 " I do not understand, your highness, what the 
 account of my si star's life has to do with . . ." 
 
 " . . the ring you ask for? Patience. 
 When the young man left for the war, and for the 
 last time had a secret meeting with his beloved, 
 she gave him a ring, whose earlier history I do not 
 know, but which was supposed to have been forged 
 by a Finnish sorcerer, and to have all the qualities 
 of an amulet. She conjured her lover to constantly 
 wear this ring on his finger in danger and in war, 
 as he would thus become invulnerable. Twice was 
 this warning forgotten; once at Dirschau . . ." 
 
 "Great God!" 
 
 "... and the second time at Liitzen." 
 
 Bertel's emotion was so violent that the blood 
 all left his cheeks, and he stood pale as a marble 
 statue. 
 
 " Young man, you now know a part of what 
 you ought to know, but you do not yet know all. 
 We have hitherto spoken of your sister; we will 
 now speak of you. It was his majesty's intention 
 to oifer you a nobleman's coat of arms, which your 
 brave sword had so well earned. But the old 
 Aaron Bertila, actuated by his hatred of the 
 nobility, solicited as a favor that the king would 
 give you opportunity of gaining any other dis- 
 tinction, but not allow you to accept a noble name. 
 The king could not refuse this entreaty from a 
 father . . . and therefore you are still a com- 
 moner by name. But I, who am not bound by any 
 promise to your father, I offer you, young man, 
 what has heretofore been refused you — the spur 
 and escutcheon of a knight." 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 245 
 
 ■'Your highness . . . this favor makes me 
 dumb; how have I deserved it?" 
 
 Duke Bernhard smiled with a strange expres- 
 sion. 
 
 " How? My friend, you have only half under- 
 stood me." 
 
 Bertel said nothing. 
 
 "Very well; with or without your knowledge 
 or will, I regard you already as a nobleman. We 
 will talk together about it another time. Your 
 ring . . ah . . I have forgotten it. Do you 
 remember how it looked?" And the duke looked 
 zealoiisly in his portfolio. 
 
 " They say that the king wore a copper ring, on 
 the inside of which were engraved magic signs, 
 and the letters R. R. R." 
 
 " It is possible that I have mislaid it, for I can- 
 not find it. But who the deuce has time to think 
 about such childish things? The ring must have 
 been stolen from my private casket. If I find it 
 again, you shall have it. If not, you know that 
 which is worth more. Go, young man; be worthy 
 my confidence and the great king's memory! No 
 one ought to know what I have told you. Fare- 
 well; we shall see each other again." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 EECONCILIATION. 
 
 ONCE more we hasten from spring in Germany 
 back to winter in the North. Before we 
 proceed farther in the bloody path of the Thirty 
 Years' War, we will make a visit to two of the 
 
246 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 chief persons in this narrative, high up in East 
 Bothnia. 
 
 It was at Advent time, 1633. A violent storm, 
 mingled with flurries of snow, beat against the old 
 ramparts of Korsholm, and drove the autumnal 
 waves of the Baltic against the ice-bound shore. 
 Navigation for the year was over; no one crossed 
 that stormy sea. The newly conscripted recruits 
 had, at the end of July, left for Stralsund, by way 
 of Stockholm. News from the seat of war was im- 
 patiently awaited. Suddenly, in the middle of 
 November, a rumor spread through the country 
 that the king was dead. Such rumors fly through 
 the air, no one knows how or from whence: great 
 misfortunes, like presentiments, are known at a 
 long distance; as a remote earthquake, far beyond 
 its circle, causes a qualm in the mind. But this 
 report had more than once before been both circu- 
 lated and refuted; people relied on King Gustaf 
 Adolf's good fortune; and as corroboration failed 
 to come, they forgot the story in the belief that it 
 was false. 
 
 It is a common experience in life, that, as we 
 hate those to whom we have done a wrong, we feel 
 kindly disposed toward persons to whom we have 
 had an opportunity of doing good. Lady Martha 
 was not a little proud of her brave defence of 
 Korsholm against the drunken soldiers, and did 
 not neglect to attribute the preservation of the 
 castle to the heroism she had then displayed. That 
 she had saved Regina's life, gave the latter a great 
 importance in her eyes; but neither could she re- 
 fuse her admiration to the courage and self-sacri- 
 fice which the young girl had shown on that occa- 
 sion. The high-born prisoner was her pride; she 
 did not omit to watch all her steps like an Argus, 
 
FIHE AND WA TER. 247 
 
 but she gave Regina a finer room, lather have old 
 Dorthe again as a waiting woman, and provided 
 her with an abundance of good food. Regina had 
 grown somewhat less proud and cold; she could 
 sometimes answer Lady Miirtha with a word or a 
 nod; but of all the nice things that were offered 
 her — the choice meats and beer, and many other 
 delicacies — she took little or nothing. She had 
 sunk into an apparent indifference; she told her 
 beads devoutly, but in other respects let one day 
 pass like another. 
 
 Lady MUrtlia held the deep conviction that her 
 prisoner, if not exactly the Roman emperor's own 
 daughter, was yet a princess of the highest birth. 
 She therefore hit upon the unlucky idea of trying 
 to convert so distinguished a person from her 
 papist heresy, in the supposition that she would 
 thereby accomplish something very remarkable 
 when the war ended and Regina was exchanged. 
 Thus Regina became exposed to the same proselyt- 
 ing attempts which she herself had undertaken 
 with the great Gustaf Adolf, but Lady Martha's 
 zeal was of a grosser and more awkward sort. She 
 overwhelmed the poor girl with Lutheran sermons, 
 psalm-books, and tracts, occasionally made her long 
 speeches interspersed with proverbs, and when 
 she found this was without avail she sent the castle 
 chaplain to preach to the prisoner. Of course all 
 this fell upon deaf ears. Regina was sufficiently 
 firm in her faith to listen with patience, but she 
 suffered from it; her stay at Korsholm became each 
 day more unendurable; and who can blame her if 
 she sighed with secret longing for the day when 
 she should regain her freedom? 
 
 Dorthe, on the contrary, flamed up every time 
 the heretic preacher or the plucky old lady began 
 
348 TIMES OF GUST A F ADOLF. 
 
 with their sermons, and rattled through a whole 
 string of prayers and maledictions both in Latin 
 and Low Dutch, the result of which was usually 
 that she was shut up for two or three days in the 
 dungeon of the castle, until the longing for her 
 mistress made her manageable. And so passed a 
 half year of Regina's captivity. 
 
 A better result of Lady Martha's good- will was 
 that Regina was allowed to embroider, and that 
 fine materials were ordered for her in the autumn 
 from Stockholm. Thus it became possible for her 
 to embroider a large piece of silk with the Virgin 
 Mary and the Infant Christ in silver and gold. 
 Martha, in her innocence, considered the work an 
 altar-cloth, which Regina possibly might present 
 to Wasa church, as a proof of her change of senti- 
 ments. A warrior's eyes, on the other hand, would 
 have discerned in it an intended flag, a banner of 
 the Catholic faith, which the imprisoned girl quietly 
 prepared, in expectation of the day when it should 
 wave at the head of the Catholic hosts. 
 
 Still, Lady Martha was not quite satisfied with 
 the Holy Virgin Mary's image, which seemed to 
 her surrounded "by too large a halo to be truly 
 Lutheran. She was therefoi'e considering how 
 she could find for her prisoner a more suitable oc- 
 cupation. It happened now and then that Meri, 
 the daughter of the Storkyro peasant king, when 
 she was in town, made an errand to Korsholra, and, 
 in order to gain the favor of the lady of the castle, 
 presented her with several skeins of the silkiest 
 linen floss, which none in the whole region could 
 spin so well as Meri. Lady MSrtha consequently 
 took the notion one fine day to permit her prisoner 
 to learn to spin, and gave her Meri as a teacher in 
 this art. Meri in her heart desired nothing better. 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 249 
 
 The near connection in which the imprisoned lady 
 had stood to the king, gave her an unsurpassable 
 interest in Meri's eyes. She wished to hear some- 
 thing about him — the hero, the king, the great, 
 never-to-be-forgotten man, who stood before her 
 memory in more than earthly splendor. She 
 wished to know what he had said, what he had done, 
 what he had loved and what hated on earth; she 
 wished for once to feel herself transported by his 
 glory, and then die herself, forgotten. Poor Meri! 
 So Meri made her second acquaintance with 
 Lady Regina in the castle. She was at first re- 
 ceived with coldness and indifference, and her 
 spinning scarcely pleased the proud young lady. 
 But gradually her mild and submissive demeanor 
 won Regina's good-will, and a captive's natural 
 desire to communicate with beings outside the pri- 
 son walls finally caused her heart to open. They 
 spun very little, it is true, but they talked together 
 like mistress and servant, especially during the days 
 when Dorthe was shut up for her vicious tongue; 
 and it was quite opportune that Meri recalled from 
 former and brighter days some knowledge of the 
 German tongue. Meri well knew how to lead the 
 conversation toward one subject — the king; and 
 Meri was quick-sighted; she soon divined Regina's 
 'enthusiastic love. But Regina was far from having 
 any suspicion of Meri's earlier life; she attributed 
 her questions to the natiffal curiosity which such 
 lofty objects always excite in the uncultivated. 
 Sometimes she seemed astonished at the delicacy 
 and nobility of the simple peasant woman's expres- 
 sions and views. There were moments when 
 Meri's personality appeared to her an enigma full 
 of contradictions; and then she asked herself 
 whether she ought not to consider this woman a 
 
250 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 spy. But the next instant slie repented this 
 thought; when the spinner looked at her with her 
 clear, mild, penetrating gaze, something convinced 
 Regina's heart of her sincerity. 
 
 They were both sitting thus one day in the 
 beginning of December, while Dorthe was again 
 locked up for unseasonable remarks lo the chap- 
 lain. There was a bright contrast between these 
 two beings, whom fate had brought together from 
 such different spheres, but who on one point shared 
 the same interest. The first, young, beautiful, 
 proud, dark, flashing, a princess even in her cap- 
 tivity; the other, of middle age, blond, pale, deli- 
 cate, mild, humble, free, yet submissive. Regina, 
 now seventeen years of age, might have been 
 thought twenty; Meri, thirty-six, had in her whole 
 appearance sometiiing so childlike and innocent 
 that at certain moments she might have been 
 thought seventeen. She might have been Regina's 
 mother; and yet, although she had sufl'ered so 
 much, she seemed almost like a child in comparison 
 with the early matured Southerner at her side. 
 
 Lady Regina liad spun for some time, and had 
 broken many threads. Vexed and impatient, she 
 pushed the distafl' away and resumed her embroid- 
 ery. This had happened so often that her teacher 
 had become accustomed to it. 
 
 "What a pretty picture ! " said Meri, looking 
 at the piece of silk. "What does it represent ?" 
 
 " God's Holy Mother, <Sa'??c<«Jfa'rta," answered 
 Regina, making the sign of the cross, as she was 
 always in the habit of doing when she mentioned 
 the Holy Virgin.. 
 
 "And what is it for ?" asked Meri, vyith a 
 naive familiarity. 
 
FIRE AN'D WATER. 251 
 
 Regina looked at her. Again a suspicion arose 
 in her mind, but it immediately passed away. 
 
 "I am embroidering the banner of the holy 
 faith for Germany," replied Regina, franklj and 
 boldly. "When it shall wave, the heretics will flee 
 before the wrath of the Mother of God." 
 
 "When I think of the Mother of God," said 
 Meri, " I always imagine her as mild, and good, 
 and peaceful; I imagine her as a mother, trans- 
 cending in her love." Meri said these words with 
 a peculiar tremor in her voice. 
 
 " The Mother of God is heaven's queen ; she 
 will contend against the godless and destroy them." 
 
 " But.when the Mother of God takes to strife, 
 King Gustaf Adolf will meet her with uncovered 
 head and lowered sword, bend his knee to her, and 
 say : ' Holy Virgin, I am not fighting for thy glory,. 
 but for that of thy Son, our Saviour.' And then 
 the Holy Mary will smile and answer : ' One who 
 fights for my Son also fights for me; for I am a 
 mother.' " 
 
 "Your king is a heretic," answered Lady Re- 
 gina, excitedly; for nothing irritated her so much 
 as opposition to the Catiiolic faitli, of which the 
 doctrine of the Virgin Mary as heaven's ruler is a 
 characteristic part. "Your king is a tyrant and an 
 unbeliever, who draws all the anger of the saints 
 upon his head. Do you know, Merchen, that I 
 hate your king ?" ->- 
 
 "Audi love him," said Meri, in a scarcely 
 audible voice. 
 
 " Yes," continued Regina, "I hate him like 
 death, sin, and perdition. . If I were a man 
 and had an arm and a sword, it would be the aim 
 of my life to destroy his army and his work. You 
 
353 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF, 
 
 are fortunate, Merchen; you know nothing about 
 war; you do not know what Gustaf Adolf has done 
 to us poor Catholics. But I have seen it, and my 
 country and my faith cry for revenge. There are 
 moments when I feel that I could kill him." 
 
 " And when Lady Regina raises her white hand 
 with the gleaming dagger over the king's head, 
 then the king will expose his breast, where the 
 great heart beats, look at her with a glance of sub- 
 limity and calmness, and say: 'Thou delicate 
 white hand, which worketh the picture of the 
 Mother of God, strike, if thou canst; my heart is 
 here, and it beats for the freedom and enlighten- 
 ment of the world.' And then the white hand will 
 sink slowly down, the dagger will drop from it un- 
 perceived, and the Holy Virgin's picture on the 
 banner will smile again, for she knew full well that 
 it would be so; it would have been just the same 
 with herself. For none can kill and none hate 
 King Gustaf Adolf, because God's angel walks at 
 his side and turns human hatred into love." 
 
 Regina forgot her work, and looked at Meri 
 with her large, dark, moist eyes. There was much 
 that surprised and moved her in these words. 
 But she kept silent. Presently she said : 
 
 " The king wears an amulet." 
 
 " Yes," said Meri, "he wears an amulet; but it 
 is not the copper ring, of which people speak; it is 
 his exalted human heart, which renounces every- 
 thing for truth and nobleness. "When he was quite 
 young, and had neither name nor renown, only his 
 blond hair, his high brow, and his mild blue eyes, 
 he wore no amulets^ and yet blessingand love and 
 happiness went by his side. All the angels in 
 heaven and all beings on earth loved him." 
 
 Regina's black eyes glistened with tears. 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 253 
 
 " Did you see him when he was young ?" said 
 she. 
 
 " Did I see him ? Yes." 
 
 "And did you love him, as did all the others?" 
 
 " More than all the others, my lady." 
 
 " And you love him still ?" 
 
 " Yes, I love him . . . much. Like you. But 
 you would kill him, and I would die for him." 
 
 Regina sprang up, weeping, clasped Meri in 
 her arms and kissed her. 
 
 " Do not think that I wish to kill him. . . . I — 
 O Holy Virgin! — I, who a thousand times would 
 have given my life to save his ! But, Merchen, you 
 cannot understand the torture, the heartrending 
 anguish, of loving a man, a hero, the personifica- 
 tion of what is highest and grandest in life, and 
 yet being commanded by a holy faith to hate this 
 man, to kill him, to persecute him to the grave ! 
 You do not know, happy one, who only need to 
 love and bless, what it means to be tossed between 
 love and hate, like a ship on high waves; to be 
 forced to curse one whom you must bless even in 
 death, and then to sit within the walls of a prison, 
 a prey to the conflicting feelings which incessantly 
 strive for supremacy in your innermost soul. Ah, 
 "there was a night when I tried to reconcile my love 
 with my faith, and to lead him, the mighty one, in 
 the way of blessedness. If the saints had allowed 
 my weak voice to overcome his unbelief, then the 
 poor Regina would have followed him with joy as 
 his humblest slave, his whole life through, and 
 recefved iii her breast all the lances and balls which 
 sought his heart. But the saints did not grant me, 
 unworthy one, so great an honor; and therefore I 
 now sit here, a prisoner on account of my faith and 
 xa-^ love; and even if an angel broke down the 
 
254 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 prison walls and said to me: 'Fly! your country 
 awaits you!' then I would answer: 'It is his will, 
 the beloved for whose sake I suffered and for whose 
 sake I remain.' . . . And you still believe that I 
 wish to kill him! " 
 
 Regina wept longf and bitterly, with all the vio- 
 lence of a passion which, long repressed, suddenly 
 bursts into flame. Meri stroked the black locks 
 from her brow, looked mildly and tenderly into 
 the tearful eyes, and said, with prophetic inspira- 
 tion: "Do not weep; the day will come when you 
 will be able to love him without cursing liim." 
 
 " That day will never come, Merchen! " 
 
 "Yes, the day will come, when King Gustaf 
 Adolf is dead." 
 
 "Oh, then may it never come! Rather would 
 I suffer all my life; since it is for his sake," 
 
 " Yes, lady, the day will come. Not because 
 you are j'oung and he is older. But have you 
 never heard it said of a child who was gentler and 
 better than other children: ' It will not livelong, 
 it is too good for this world! ' So it seems to me 
 about King Gustaf Adolf. He is too great, too 
 noble, too good, to live long. God's angels wish 
 to have him before liis body withers and his soul 
 grows weary. Believe me, they will take him 
 from us." 
 
 Regina looked at her, almost terrified. 
 
 " Who are you, who speak such words? . . . 
 How your eyes glitter! You are not the one you 
 seem. Who are you, then? . . . Oh, Holy Virgin, 
 protect me! " 
 
 And Regina started up, with all the supersti- 
 tion which belonged to her time. Doubtless she 
 could not have accounted for her fear; but Mori's 
 conversation bad from the first seemed strange to 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 255 
 
 her, coming from the mouth of an uncultivated 
 peasant woman in this barbarous land. 
 
 "Who am I?" repeated Meri, with unchanged 
 mildness. " I am a woman who loves ; that is all." 
 
 " And you say the king will die? " 
 
 " God alone prevails over human destiny, and 
 the greatest among mortals is still but mortal." 
 
 At this moment some one turned the key of the 
 door, and Lady Martha entered, more solemn than 
 usual, and also somewhat paler. She wore, instead 
 of "her bright striped woolen jacket, a deep mourn- 
 ing attire, and her whole appearance indicated 
 something unusual. Regina and Meri both started 
 at the sight. 
 
 Meri became pale as death, went straight to 
 Lady Martha, looked her sharply in the face, and 
 said, monotonously, with great effort: 
 
 " The king is dead! " 
 
 "You know it already?" answered Lady 
 Martha, surprised. " God preserve us! the bad 
 news came an hour ago by a courier from Torned." 
 
 Regina sank down in a swoon. 
 
 Meri, althougli her heart was breaking, retained 
 her self-possession, and tried to restore Regina. 
 
 "The king has then fallen on the battle-field, 
 in the midst of victory?" asked she. 
 
 " On the battlefield at Liitzen, the sixth of 
 November, and in the midst of a glorious victory," 
 replied Lady MSrtha, more and more surprised at 
 Meri's knowledge of the events. 
 
 "Awake, gracious lady," said Meri to Regina; 
 "he has lived and died like a hero, worthy the 
 admiration of the whole world. He has fallen in 
 the hour of triumph, in the highest lustre of his 
 glory; his name will live in all times, and this 
 name we will both bless." 
 
256 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 Regina opened her dreamy eyes, and clasped 
 her hands in prayer. " Oh, Holy Virgin," said she, 
 "I thank thee that thou hast let him go in his 
 greatness from the world, and thus taken away the 
 curSe which rested upon my love! " 
 
 And Meri kneeled at her side in prayer. 
 
 But below, in the castle-yard, stood a tall 
 white-haired old man, his hard features distorted 
 by grief and despair. 
 
 " Curse upon my work! " said he. " My plan is 
 frustrated beforehand, and the object for which I 
 have lived slips from my grasp. Oh, fool that I was 
 to count upon a human being's life-thread — to hope 
 that the king would acknowledge his own, and 
 live until the son of Aaron Bertila's daughter had 
 time to win a brilliant fame in war, and ascend to 
 the Swedish throne! The king is dead, and my 
 descendant is only a boy, who will soon be lost 
 among the crowd. Now it is only wanting for him 
 to obtain a nobleman's coat of arms and place him- 
 self with the rest of the vampires between the 
 only true powers of the state, the king and the 
 people. Fool, fool that I was! The king is dead! 
 Go, old Bertila, into the grave — to the fratricide 
 King John, and the destroyer of aristocracy, King 
 Charles, and bury thy proud plans among the same 
 worms which have already consumed Prince Gustaf 
 and Karin Mansdotter! " 
 
 And the old man seized Meri, who just then 
 came out, violently by the hand, and said: 
 
 "Come, now we have neither of us anything 
 more to do in the world! " 
 
 " Yes," said Meri, with suppressed grief, " we 
 both have still a son! " 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 257 
 
 CHAPTER ' VI. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF nBEDLINGEN. 
 
 THE Swedish lion had hitherto, through the 
 agency of Gustaf Adolf and his men, ad- 
 vanced from victory to victory, overthrowing all 
 adversaries by his tremendous blows. But the 
 day of misfortune came at last, in a great and mur- 
 derous battle, wherein the Swedish arms suffered a 
 bloody defeat. 
 
 Walleiistein, the insatiable yet indispensable, 
 had died a traitor's death in Eger. Gallas, the 
 destroyer of armies, overran middle Germany, took 
 Rpgensburg, and advanced against the free city of 
 NOrdlingen, in Svvabia. Dulce Bernhard and Gus- 
 taf Horn hurried with the Swedish army to its 
 defence. They had only seventeen thousand men, 
 ■while Gallas had tiiirty-three thousand. 
 
 " Let us attack," said the duke. 
 
 "Let us wait," said Horn. 
 
 Tiiey expected five thousand men as a rein- 
 foreeinent; and fourteen days elapsed. Then 
 NQrdiingen needed supplies, and began to signal 
 witli beacon fires on the towers at night. Again 
 the duke wished to attack; again Horn preferred 
 to fortify himself and relieve the city without 
 battle. They called him, the brave man, a coward; 
 and, indignant, but with dark forebodings, he re- 
 solved to figlit. But the Swedes went to the con- 
 flict confident of victory; for repeated successes 
 had made them over-bold. 
 R 11* 
 
258 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 The battle was fought on the 34th of August, 
 1634. Outside NOrdlingen are forest-crowned 
 heights called Arensberg, and between these and 
 the city is a smaller height. Upon the latter the 
 Imperialists had constructed three earthworks. 
 
 The Swedish army occupied Arensberg; Horn 
 on the right and the duke on the left wing. The 
 watchword was the same as at Breitenfeld and 
 Liitzen: God with us! 
 
 Early in the morning a heavy rain fell. Once 
 more the prudent Horn wished to wait, but the 
 duke was in command, and ordered an advance. 
 Horn obeyed, and the right wing marched down 
 into the valley between the heights. The impa- 
 tience of the cavalry hastened the attack. From 
 the very beginning, it was-uiifavorable. The Im- 
 perialists' cannon in the earthworks made breaches 
 in the ranks of the cavalry, and the enemy's supe- 
 rior force compelled them to retire. Horn sent 
 two brigades to storm the middle earthwork. They 
 took it, and pursued the enemy. Piccolomini 
 checked their course, and drove them back to the 
 earthworks. There the powder happened to take 
 fire. With a deafening explosion the earthworks 
 flew into the air, and several hundred Swedes and 
 Finns with it. This was the first calamity. 
 
 Upon this position, however, depended the vic- 
 tory. For a moment the spot was vacant; Picco- 
 lomini's soldiers, frightened by the report and the 
 destruction, could not be persuaded to go there. 
 Finally they did so. Horn asked for help, in order 
 to expel them. The duke sent the young Bohe- 
 mian, Thurn, with his yellow regiment. He made 
 a mistake, attacked the wrong earthwork, and en- 
 gaged with a largely superior force. Seventeen 
 times he attacked the enemy, and as often was he 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 259 
 
 repulsed. In vain did Horn storm the height. 
 Thurn's error was the second calamity. 
 
 On the left wing the duke had begun the battle 
 against the artillery and cavalry. At the first en- 
 counter the Imperialists were repulsed, and the 
 duke's German cavalry pursued them with loose 
 rein and disordered ranks. But Tilly's spirit 
 seemed that day to give the Imperialists new 
 courage. They opposed their well-ordered and 
 superior ranks to the assailants, checked them, and 
 drove them back with loss. The duke tried to get 
 reinforcements into NSrdlingen, but failed. In 
 vain did he drive Gallas before him. New masses 
 of the enemy constantly blocked his way, and in 
 his rear the Croats plundered his baggage-wagons. 
 
 It was about noon. Horn's troops had endured 
 the fire of the enemy for eight consecutive hours, 
 and were worn out with wounds and fatigue. 
 With every hour their hopes of victory sank, but 
 their courage remained the same, unflinching and 
 persistent. They had observed the disorder in 
 their left wing. Down in the valley things were in 
 a desperate condition. Piccolomini's bullets every 
 instant fell in the underbrush, and sprinkled the 
 sundered branches with blood. Then Horn pro- 
 posed to withdraw to Arensberg, and the duke, who 
 was in distress, was obliged at last to consent. He 
 considered the matter nearly two hours; and these 
 two hours he would afterwards have been willing 
 to buy back with his own blood. 
 
 It was three o'clock in the afternoon. Horn 
 ordered the Finnish cavalry to make a feigned at- 
 tack, so as to cover the retreat, and began, like a 
 prudent general, to withdraw in good order. The 
 Imperialists perceived his intention, and pressed on 
 with double force. They began to hope, what they 
 
260 TIMES OB GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 had never dared to hope before, that even the 
 Swedes might be conquered; and Piccolomini's 
 duinpy figure flew through the ranks, urging his 
 men to bear down with their collected forces upon 
 the unprotected sides of the Swedish columns, 
 open them, and crush them. 
 
 In the valley behind the Swedes, and between 
 the heights, flowed a stream with steep banks, and 
 swollen from abundant rains. At the little village 
 of Hirnheim the stream was spanned by a single 
 bridge, and this point Horn had guarded in good 
 season, in order to secure the retreat. The artil- 
 lery passed first over the bridge, and reached 
 Arensberg heights in safety. The first columns of 
 Horn's division had also reached Hirnheim and 
 the rest were only a short distance from it, when a 
 ni^w calamity occurred — the third and most disas- 
 trous of this day of calamities. Duke Bernhard 
 had undertaken to check the enemy -with his divi- 
 sion, until Horn and his men had crossed tlie 
 stream. Uut too '^oon he discovered that in this 
 he had consulted his bravery ratlier than his pru- 
 dence. The enemy's forces became more and more 
 concentrated, and their attack increased in violence. 
 Three times De Werth charged the duke's cavalry; 
 three times was he repulsed. The fourth time he 
 broke through the duke's lines. The latter sent a 
 squadron to take him in the flank. In vain. Be- 
 side himself with rage, the duke snatched his gold- 
 embroidered banner from an ensign's hand, and, 
 followed by his bravest men, rushed into the thick- 
 est ranks of the enemy. All in vain. His brave 
 men fell, his horse was shot from under him, the 
 banner was torn from his hand; wounded and over- 
 powered, he came near being taken prisoner, when 
 a young officer at his side gave him his horse, and 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 261 
 
 he escaped with difficulty. His foot-soldiers had 
 already fled, unable to contend against the cavalry 
 on the plain; and when the duke galloped away, 
 bleeding, and with loose reins, the whole division 
 followed him in the wildest flight, believing that 
 all was lost. 
 
 Just at this moment, Horn's infantry crossed 
 the narrow bridge. Then arose from the rear con- 
 fused cries that the battle was lost and the enemy 
 close ac their heels. First, single horsemen, then 
 whole squads of the duke's cavalry, rushed along 
 the road to the bridge, rode in among the foot 
 soldiers, trampled some under their horses' feet, 
 and threw the rest into terrible confusion. Horn 
 tried to make his voice heard, his nearest officers 
 tried to stay the horsemen's frantic course; but 
 without avail. On the narrow bridge everything 
 was crowded pell-mell: men, horses, wagons, the 
 dead and living together; and finally the duke's 
 whole division rushed to this fatal spot. Like 
 lightning Piccolomini's division was in the wake of 
 the fugitives; he sent some light cannons up on 
 the heights, discharging them among the thickest 
 masses of human beings, where every ball made a 
 broad sweep of dead and wounded. Instantly the 
 Groats were there also; and now the cannons had 
 to cease, so as not to kill both friend and foe. The 
 long pikes and broad swords of the Imperial 
 cavalry made dreadful havoc. All that bore the 
 name of Swede or Finn were doomed to destruc- 
 tion. 
 
 Gustaf Horn, of Kankas, the valiant and judi- 
 cious Finnish general, whom Gustaf Adolf called 
 his "right hand," and who from the beginning had 
 dissuaded from this unfortunate battle, was the 
 last to retain courage and self-possession at this 
 
263 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 fearful moment, the last to give up. With the 
 remnants of three regiments, he had taken his post 
 at the bridge, and the fleeing throng surged bjr 
 him, without being able to draw him into the cur- 
 rent. They conjured him to save his life; but to 
 these appeals he opposed his stubborn Finnish will, 
 and held his post. The enemy could scarcely be- 
 lieve their eyes when they saw him not only stand 
 his ground, but boldly attack. For a moment the 
 pursuit was checked — the only thing which Horn 
 hoped to gain by his intrepid onset. Gallas sent 
 one of the best Spanish brigades against him. 
 Horn drove them back with bloody heads. Intoxi- 
 cated with triumph, De Werth fell upon him with 
 his dragoons. Equally bloody was their reception. 
 From all directions the enemy's circle closed in, 
 and Horn was attacked from three sides at once. 
 They offered him life if he would surrender. He 
 answered with a sword-thrust, and his men gave 
 the same response. Not one of them asked 
 quarter. At last, when nearly all around him had 
 fallen, he was overpowered by numbers and taken 
 prisoner, after which the few surviving champions 
 surrendered. 
 
 When the Swedish army, in full flight, rushed 
 over Arensberg, Duke Bernhard of Saxen-Weiraar 
 tore his long hair, and exclaimed, in his despair,, 
 that he was a fool, but Horn was a wise man. At 
 a later period, the duke comforted himself with 
 Alsace; but that day he had reason to repent liis 
 precipitancy. Six thousand Swedes and Finns, 
 and with them their German allies, covered the 
 blood-stained heights of NOrdlingen; six thousand 
 were taken prisoners, among them the two Finns, 
 Horn and Wittenberg, who were treated very hon- 
 orably by the enemy. Of the other ten thousand,. 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 263 
 
 one-half were wounded, and most of the remain- 
 ing mercenaries deserted. The army had lost four 
 thousand bap;gage-wagons, three hundred flags, 
 and all the artillery. A miserable remnant made 
 its way to Mentz, plundering as it went, and suffer- 
 ing from extreme want. 
 
 More than the loss of these twelve thousand 
 men was the loss of Sweden's martial honor, and 
 the restoration to the enemy of their confidence in 
 victory. The battle at NOrdlingen became the 
 turning-point in the Thirty- Years' War, and ex- 
 cited mingled joy and consternation throughout 
 Europe, until Baner's genius and success restored 
 to the Swedish arms their lost lustre. 
 
 Among those who fought to the last by Horn's 
 side, at the bridge, were the East Bothnians and 
 our old friend Captain Larsson. The little thick- 
 set captain had on that occasion no time to open 
 his voluble mouth, a fate which had seldom hap- 
 pened to him. His whole round figure dripped 
 with sweat in the summer heat; he had been light- 
 ing since the dawn, yet had not received the 
 smallest scratch on his fleshy frame. It must be 
 said, to his honor, that at NOrdlingen he thought 
 little of either Rhine wine or Bavarian nuns, but 
 faithfully cut and thrust as best he could. We will 
 not, however, affirm that he impaled thirty Impe- 
 rialists on the poi-nt of his trusty sword, as he 
 afterward asserted in good faith. He was one of 
 those who were taken prisoner with Horn; and 
 what most provoked the good captain was not his 
 capture, but the vexation of seeing the Croats 
 afterwards empty at their ease the Swedish stock 
 of wine, which they had taken with the baggage- 
 wagons. 
 
 Another of our friends, Lieutenant Bertel, 
 
264 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 fought the whole day at the duke's side. He it 
 was who offered his horse when the duke's horse 
 was shot. That the duke did not forsret this ser- 
 vice, we will by and by see. Bertel was, like 
 Larsson, engaged in the hottest conflict; but, less 
 fortunate than the latter, he received several 
 wounds, and was finally borne along with the 
 stream of fugitives to Arensberg. Almost without 
 knowing how, he found himself the next day far 
 from the battle-field, and proceeded with the frag- 
 ments of the duke's army to Mentz. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE PBODIGAL SON. 
 
 \ \ /■ E are now at Epiphany, in the mid-winter 
 VV of 1635. In the large sitting-room of 
 Aaron Bert'la, in Storkyro, a fire of pine logs 
 crackles on the spacious hearth; for at that time 
 heavy forests still surrounded the fertile fields. 
 Outside, a snow-storm is raging, with sweeping 
 blasts; the wulves howl on the ice of the stream; 
 away in the clefts of the hill the hungry lynx 
 prowls stealthily around. 
 
 It is Epiphany evening, an hour or two after 
 sunset. The Storkyro peasant-king sits in his 
 high-backed chair, at a little distance from the 
 hearth, listening with distracted thoughts to his 
 daughter Meri, who, by the light of the fire, reads 
 aloud a chapter of Agricola's B^innish New Tes- 
 tament: for at that period the whole Bible was not 
 yet translated into the Finnish language. 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 265 
 
 Bertila has grown very old since we last saw 
 him, in his full vigor. The great thoughts that 
 are constantly revolving under his bald fore- 
 head give him no peace; and yet his bold plans 
 are now, after the king's death, completely 
 shattered, like shipwrecked fragments floating 
 around on the tumultuous billows of a dark 
 sea. Great and strong souls like his gener- 
 ally end by destroying themselves. All the 
 changes and misfortunes of his turbulent life had 
 not been able to break his iron will; but the grief 
 over a frustrated hope, the vain attempt to build 
 anew the fallen castles in the air, the sorrow of 
 seeing his own children tear down his work — all 
 this preyed like an eager vulture upon his inner life. 
 A single thought had in two years made him 
 twenty years older; and this thought was presump- 
 tuous even to madness. It ran thus: 
 
 " Why is not one of my line at this moment 
 King of Sweden?" 
 
 At times Meri raises her mild blue eyes from 
 the holy book, and regards her old father with 
 searching disquietude. She, too, has become older 
 in appearance. The quiet sorrow is like autumn 
 in green groves: it breaks not, it kills not; but it 
 makes the fresh leaves wither on the tree of life. 
 Meri's glance is full of peace and submission. The 
 thought wliich always shines within her soul, like 
 a setting sun, is this: 
 
 " Beyond the grave I shall meet again the pride 
 of my heart; and he will no longer wear an earthly 
 crown! " 
 
 Near her, on the left, sits old Larsson, short 
 and thick in form, like his hearty son. His good- 
 natured jovial face has for the time assumed a 
 more solemn expression, befitting the holy reading 
 12 
 
266 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 to which he listens. His hands are folded as ia 
 prayer, save when, with his usual thoughtfuliiess, 
 he heaps together the burning brands, so that Meri 
 can see better. 
 
 Behind him are devoutly seated a part of the 
 numerous laborers; and these groups, illumined' 
 by the reflection of the fire, are completed by a 
 purring gray cat, and a large shagyy house-dog, 
 which has curled himself up in a ring under Meri's 
 feet, seemingly proud to serve her as a footstool. 
 
 When Meri, in her reading, came to the place 
 in Luke, xvth chapter, where it speaks of the 
 Prodigal Son, the old Bertila's eyes began to 
 glisten with a sinister light. 
 
 "The reprobate!" muttered he to himself. "To 
 waste one's inheritance, what is that! But to for- 
 get one's old father . . . by God, that is 
 shameful ! " 
 
 Moii read farther, until she came to the Prodi- 
 gal Soil's repentance: "And he arose arid came to 
 his father. But when he was yet a great way off, 
 his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, 
 and fell on his neck, and kissed him." 
 
 "What a simpleton of a fa' her!" said Aaron 
 Bertila again to himself. "He ought to have 
 bound him with ropes, and beaten him with rods, 
 and driven him away from his house back to his, 
 riotous living and his empty wine-cups! " 
 
 " Father! " whispered Meri, with mild reproach. 
 " Be merciful, as our Heavenly Father is merciful,, 
 and takes the lost children in HTs arms." 
 
 " And if your son ever returns . . " begar* 
 Larsson, in the same tone. But the old man inter- 
 rupted him. 
 
 "Hold your tongues, and don't trouble your- 
 selves about me," he answered, gruffly. " I have 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 267 
 
 no longer any son . . . who falls in repent- 
 ance at my feet," added he, directly, when he saw 
 two large clear pearls glisten in Meri's eyelashes. 
 
 She continued: " And the son said unto him. 
 Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and in thy 
 sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy 
 son." 
 
 " Stop reading that! " burst out the old man, in 
 a rage. " See that my bed is in order, and let the 
 folks go to rest; it is late." 
 
 At this moment horses' hoofs were heard out- 
 side in the creaking snow. This occurrence, unu- 
 sual on the evening of a sacred day, madeLarsson 
 go to the low window and breathe on the frost- 
 covered pane, so as to look out into the storm. A 
 sleigh, drawn by two horses, worked its way with 
 difficulty through the snowdrifts into the yard- 
 Two men in sheepskin cloaks jumped out. 
 
 Seized with a sudden intuition, Larsson hurried 
 out to meet the travellers, and quick as lightning 
 Meri was at his side. The door closed creakingly 
 behind them, and there was some minutes' delay 
 before it opened again. And now a j'oung man in 
 a soldier's garb entered, with bowed head, threw 
 aside his plumed hat, white with the snow, and 
 gQJng straight to old Bertila, knelt down, and bent 
 his~ beautiful curly head still lower, as he said: 
 
 "Father, I am here, and ask your blessing!" 
 
 And behind him stood Meri and the old Larsson, 
 both with clasped hands, and raised their beseech- 
 ing eyes to the stern old man, with the same 
 words: 
 
 " Father, here is thy son ; give him thy bless- 
 ing! " 
 
 For a moment Bertila seemed to struggle with 
 himself; his lips trembled slightly, and his hand 
 
268 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 was unconsciously stretched out, as if to lift up 
 the youth at his feet. But soon his bald head rose 
 still higher, his hand drew back, his sharp eyes 
 flashed more darkly than ever, and his lips trembled 
 no longer. 
 
 " Go! " said he, shortly and sternly; "go, you 
 apostate boy, back to your brother noblemen, and. 
 your sisters, the fine ladies. What do you seek in 
 the simple peasant's cottage, which you despise? 
 Go! I have no longer any son! " 
 
 But the youth went not. 
 
 " Do not be angry, my father," said he, " if in 
 my youthful ambition I have at any time trespassed 
 against your commands. Who sent me out among 
 the illustrious and great ones of earth, to win fame 
 and honor? Who bade me go to the war, to en- 
 noble my peasant name with chivalric deeds? 
 Who exposed me to the temptation of all the bril- 
 liant examples which clustered round the king? 
 You, and you, and again you, my fatlier; and now 
 you thrust away your son, who for your sake twice 
 refused a title of nobility.'' 
 
 "You! " exclaimed the old man, with overflow- 
 ing anger. "You renounce a title of nobility! — 
 you, who have blushed for your peasant name and 
 taken another more imposing? No, on your knees 
 have you begged fdr a coat of arms. What do I 
 know about its being offered to you? — what is that 
 to me? I only know that since your earliest child- 
 hood I have striven to implant in yo'nr soul, recre- 
 ant, that there are no rightful powers other than 
 hing and people; that all who push themselves 
 between, whether they bear the name of aristo- 
 crats, ecclesiatics, or whatever else, are a mon- 
 strosity, a ruin, a curse to government and country 
 . All this I have tried to inculcate in you; 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 369 
 
 and the fruit of my teaehiiigs has been that you 
 have smuggled yourself among this nobility, which 
 I hate and despise; tint you have coveted its 
 empty titles, paraded its extravagant display, im- 
 bibed its prejudices, and now you stand here, in 
 your father's housi>, with a lie on your lips and 
 aristocratic vanity in your heart. Go, degenerate 
 son! Aaron Bertila is what he has always been — ■ 
 a. peHsant! He rejects and curses you, apostate! " 
 
 With these words, the old man turned away, 
 and went, with a firm step and a high head, into 
 the little bedchamber, leaving Bertel still on his 
 knees. 
 
 "Hear me, father! " cried Bertel after him, as 
 he quickly unbuttoned his coat and look out a 
 folded paper; "this paper I had meant to tear in 
 pieces at your feet! " 
 
 But the old man did not hedr him; the paper 
 fell to the floor, and when Larsson, a moment later, 
 unfolde(J and read it, it was found to contain a 
 diploma from the Regency in Stockholm, made at 
 the solicitation of Duke Bernhard of Weimar, 
 conferring upon Gustaf Bertel, captain of horse in 
 tiie life guards, a patent of nobility, and a coat of 
 arms with the name of Bertehkold. 
 
 While all in the house were still bewildered by 
 the old Bertila's inflexibility, three of Lady Martha's 
 soldiers from Korsholrn entered in great haste. 
 
 " Halloa, boys! " exclaimed they to the laborers. 
 "Have you seen her? Here is something that 
 pays. Two hundred silver dollars reward to him 
 who seizes and brings back, dead or alive. Lady 
 Regina von Emineritz, state-prisoner at Kors- 
 boiin." 
 
 At the sound of this name Bertel was roused 
 
270 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 from his stupefying grief; he sprang up, and seized 
 the speaker by the collar. 
 
 "Wretch! what do you say?" he exclaimed. 
 
 "Well, well; be a little more careful when you, 
 speak to the servants of his royal majesty and the 
 crown. I tell you that the German traitor — the 
 Papistical witch, Lady von Erameritz, succeeded in 
 escaping last night from Korsholm castle, and that 
 he who does not help to catch her is a traitor and 
 a . . ." 
 
 The man had not time to end his sentence be- 
 fore a blow from Bortel's strong arm laid him at 
 full length on the floor. 
 
 " Ha, my father, you have so wished ! " ex- 
 claimed the youth; and in a flash he was outside 
 the door, and in his sleigh, which the next instant 
 was heard driving away through the raging storm. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE FUGITIVE. 
 
 LET US now direct our attention to the where- 
 abouts of Lady Regina, and see what has 
 led her to exchange the tender care of Lady 
 Martha for the adventurous experiment of fleeing, 
 in mid-winter, through a strange region filled with 
 desert tracts, where she was entirely ignorant of 
 the roads, and was not able even to make herself 
 understood in the language of the country. 
 
 We should not lose sight of the fact that our 
 ■story is laiji in a time when Catholicism and 
 Lutheranism were engaged in the sharpest con- 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 271 
 
 flict; -when Lutheranism, excited by. the violence 
 of the struggle, was as little inclined to religious 
 tolerance as Catholicism itself. Lady MKrtha was 
 now thoroughly possessed of the idea that she was 
 in duty bound to convert Lady Regina to the 
 Lutheran faith; and from this well-meant but futile 
 •endeavor, no one could dissuade her. She there- 
 fore continued, in season and out of season, to 
 torment the poor girl with her pertinacity; — some- 
 times with books, sometimes with exhortations, 
 sometimes with persuasions and threats, or promises 
 of freedom; and when Regina refused to read the 
 books or listen to the preaching, the zealous old 
 lady had prayers read in her prise ner'sroom morn- 
 ing and evening, and had services held there on 
 Sundays. All these means were wasted on what 
 Lady MSrtha called Regina's stubbornness. The 
 more the former exerted herself, the calmer, colder, 
 and more impassive became her prisoner. Regina 
 regarded herself as a martyr to her faith, and en- 
 dured, with apparent indifference, all humiliations, 
 for the sake of the holy cause. 
 
 But within the young girl of nineteen years 
 fermented the hot Southern blood, and it was 
 with great difficulty that she could subdue it 
 into apparent calm. There were moments when 
 Regina would have blown up Korsholm, ^ had 
 it been in her power. But the old gray 
 walls defied her silent rage, and flight became 
 finally her only means of salvation. Days and 
 years she brooded upon it; at last she found a 
 means of eluding Lady Martha's vigilance. 
 
 In Kajana castle was confined at that time 
 the celebrated and unfortunate Johannes Messe- 
 nius, who in his youth had been educated by the 
 .Jesuits in Braunsberg, and chosen by them to be- 
 
872 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 come the apostle of Catholicism in heretic SweJen. 
 Imprisoned lor his libels and coiispirac-ies in tiie 
 interest of Sigismuiid's party, he had now for nine- 
 teen years, subjected to the harshest treatments, sat 
 there hke a mole in his liole, when rumors ol his 
 learning, his misfortunes, and his papistical senti- 
 ments, reached Lady Regina in her prison. From 
 this moment, bold plans began to agitate the young 
 girl's mind. 
 
 Oiie day, about New Year's time, an itinerant 
 German quack came to Korsholm witti his medicine- 
 chest on his back, like Jewish peddlers at a later 
 period. A doctor and apothecary thus combined 
 in one person did a lucrative business at the ex- 
 pense of the credulous people, and was frequently 
 consulted even by the upper classes; for in tiia 
 "whole country there was not a single regular phy- 
 sician, and only one drug-store in Abo — and even 
 this one not especially well furnished. No wonder,, 
 then, that the man found plenty to do, even at 
 Korsholm, with pains, stomachaches, and gout; 
 nay. Lady Martha, who, every time slie had thrashed 
 her male servants, complained of colic and snort- 
 ness of breath, received the foreign doctor with, 
 particular cordiality. In a few days the latter had 
 become perfectly at home in the castle; and thus 
 it happened that he was called in to Lady Regina, 
 ■who was suffering from an obstinate headache. 
 
 Lady Martha's usual craftiness this time failed 
 her. On a fine morning, two days later, the youno- 
 Regina, her old Dorthe, and the quack doctor, 
 ■were all missing. A window grating, which had 
 been broken off from the outside, and a rope-ladder, 
 leftno doubt possible that the quack had been instru- 
 mental in procuring the prisoner a free passage over 
 ■wall and ramparts. Lady Martha, in her amaze- 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 373 
 
 ment and rage, forgot both her colic and her short- 
 ness of breath; she stirred up the castle and town, 
 and immediately sent out her soldiers in all direc- 
 tions to catch the fugitives. It will soon be seen 
 how far she succeeded. 
 
 We return for a moment to Bertel, whom we 
 find with his heart full of the most conflicting 
 emotions, hurrying through the stormy night, and 
 attended by his faithful Pekka. The honest soul 
 could not comprehend a folly so great as that of 
 leaving the cheerful fireside and the boiling por- 
 ridge-kettle, where they had but just arrived, for 
 snow-drifts and wolves in the wild woods. And 
 Bertel did not comprehend it himself. While the 
 army lay in winter quarters in Germany, he had 
 obtained a furlough, and passed northward through 
 Sweden to Tornea, and thence hurried south 
 through Storkyro to Wasa, which was his secret 
 destination. And now he met in one place a 
 father's anger, and in the other the empty walls 
 where she had been and was no more. Regina had 
 disappeared, leaving no trace.. 
 
 "Where shall I drive?" asked Pekka, monoto- 
 nously and gruffly, when they came out on the 
 broad highway, after leaving the farm of the old 
 peasant- king. 
 
 " Wherever you please," answered his master, 
 as gruffly. 
 
 Pekka turned his horses toward Wasa, about 
 twenty miles distant; Bertel noticed this. 
 
 "Ass!" cried he, "have I not ordered you to 
 drive north ? " 
 
 "North! " repeated Pekka, shortly; and with a 
 
 sigh he turned his horses toward Ny-Karleby, full 
 
 forty miles away. At that period they had no 
 
 regular inns, with horses provided for the accom- 
 
 S 
 
274 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 modation of travellers. But there were farms at 
 intervals, vyhere all who travelled on government 
 business could count on finding horses, while other 
 travellers were obliged to bargain as best they 
 could. 
 
 The parsonages were the general stopping- 
 places for the night, and always had a room in 
 order, where beds of straw and a table with cold 
 food stood hospitably prepared for acquaintances 
 and strangers. 
 
 It was therefore quite natural that Pekka, with 
 his thoughts still on the porridge-kettle, ventured 
 to ask a further question: Would they spend the 
 night at WOra parsonage? 
 
 " Drive to Yliharma," answered the captain, 
 petulantly, and wrapped himself in his long sheep- 
 skin cloak, for the night wind blew icy cold. 
 
 " The devil take me if I understand such 
 whims! " muttered Pekka to himself, as he turned 
 oif into the narrow village road leading northward 
 from Storkyro toward Lappo parish. 
 
 Here the snow had drifted several feet high 
 between the fences, and the travelers could only 
 advance step by step. After an hour's struggling 
 the horses were completely tired out and stopped 
 every few steps. 
 
 Bertel, absorbed in his reveries, was scarcely 
 aware of the situation. They had left Kyro's wide 
 plains behind them, and were now in the forest of 
 Lappo. The silence of the wilderness, broken only 
 by the howling of the storm, surrounded the travel- 
 lers on all sides; and as far as the eye could reach, 
 there was no trace of human habitation, 
 
 Pekka had been walking at the side of the 
 sleigh, raising it with his broad shoulders when it 
 sank so deep in the snow that the horses could 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 275 
 
 not pull it. At last even his sinewy arms were un- 
 equal to the task; the sleigh stopped in the midst of 
 a mountain of snow. 
 
 " Welli" exclaimed Bertel, impatiently; "what 
 is the matter?" 
 
 " Nothing," replied Pekka, calmly, " except 
 that we need neither undertaker nor priest to find 
 a grave!" 
 
 " How far is it from here to the nearest farm ?" 
 
 " Six or seven miles, I think." 
 
 " Do you not see something that resembles a 
 light, far away there in the woods?" 
 
 " Yes, yes, it looks like it . . ." 
 
 " Unharness the horses, and let us ride there." 
 
 "No, dear master, these woods are horribly 
 haunted, as I know of old, ever since the peasants 
 here beat their steward to death, during the Club 
 War, and burned his house and his innocent chil- 
 dren." 
 
 "Nonsense! I tell you we will ride there." 
 
 "Well, it is all the same to me." 
 
 In a few minutes the horses were taken out of 
 the traces, and the two travellers mounted and 
 pushed on in the direction of the light, which some- 
 times disappeared and then shone again between 
 the snow-drifts. 
 
 " But tell me, Pekka," resumed Bertel, " how 
 does the story run about this wilderness? I re- 
 collect that I often heard them speak of it in my 
 childhood." 
 
 "Yes, my mother was born here." 
 
 " Was there not once a Jarge settlement in this 
 wood?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed, it was many hundred acres in ex- 
 tent. The steward had laid it all out for miles, as 
 far back as King Gustaf's time ; and here grew 
 
276 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 many hundred tons of grain, so father has told me j 
 and the steward had built a large house here and 
 lived like a prince in the wilderness; and then, as 
 I told j'ou, the peasants came and set fire to the 
 place in the night-time, destroying not only the 
 cattle, but all the people with the exception of the 
 young lady whom your father saved and after- 
 ward took for his wife. It is very certain that he 
 had a finger in that pie." 
 
 " And so the place was never built up again?'* 
 
 " You can imagine the fields were a fat prize,, 
 and so there were plenty of people who undertook 
 to move here in defiance of the devil. But the devil 
 was too smart for them; he began to stir up 
 such a state of things here, with ghosts haunting 
 about, night and day, that nobody was sure of his 
 life, far less of his sinful soul. When people sat 
 in their homes, the chairs were pulled from under 
 them; the porridge-bowl rolled of itself down on 
 the floor; the stones were torn from the walls and 
 hailed down around people's ears. If they went 
 out in the woods, they were no better off; they had 
 to look out sharp that the trees did not tumble over 
 their heads, although the weather was perfectly 
 quiet, and that the ground did not open under their 
 feet and draw them down into a bottomless pit. 
 And when I think that we are now travelling' 
 through the same woods ... oh, oh, I am sinking!" 
 
 " You simpleton, it is the pure snow! — and then 
 you say the people could not stand it any longer?" 
 
 " Then they all moved away, so that there was 
 not even a cat left, except one old laborer; but I 
 suppose he is dead long ago. The whole settle- 
 ment was deserted again; the ditches became filled 
 up, the meadows became morasses, and the pine- 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 277 
 
 woods spread over the former grain-fields. It is 
 now forty years since that time ..." 
 
 Pekka, who was not in the habit of making long 
 speeches, seemed astonished at his unusual talk- 
 ativeness, and suddenly checked his flow of words, 
 as he reined in his horse. 
 
 " What is it now?" asked Bertel, impatiently. 
 
 " I don't see the light any more." 
 
 " Neither do I. It is hidden by the trees.'' 
 
 " No, dear master, it is not hidden by the trees; 
 it has sunk into the earth, after decoying us here 
 into the wildest woods. Didn't I tell you that it 
 would be so? We will never get away from here 
 alive." 
 
 "For the devil's sake, ride on, and don't stop 
 here, or both man and beast will stiffen with the 
 cold. It seems to me I see something like a hut 
 over there." 
 
 " Hut indeed! it is nothing but a big rock with 
 gray sides, from which the wind has blown away 
 the snow. It is all over with us." 
 
 " Hold your tongue, and ride on! Here we come 
 to a glade with young woods ... I see something 
 there between the snow-drifts." 
 
 "Saints protect us! We are now on the very 
 spot where the house stood. Don't you see the 
 old chimney sticking out through the snow? Not 
 a step farther, master!" 
 
 " I am not mistaken ... it is the hut." 
 
 Bertel and his companion found themselves on 
 extremely uncomfortable ground, where the horses 
 stumbled at every step over large stones, or sank 
 into deep hollows covered with snow. High snow- 
 drifts and felled trees made it still worse, and obstruc- 
 ted the passage to a dilapidated hut, which, either by 
 chance or intention, was hidden behind two spread- 
 
378 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 ing firs, with branches hanging to the ground. 
 The only window of the hut had a shutter which 
 was at one moment blown open by the wind and 
 then closed again, thus causing the light within to 
 show itself and disappear by turns. 
 
 Bertel dismounted from his horse, tied it to a 
 branch of the fir, and approached the window to 
 glance inside. A secret hope gave wings to his 
 feet. He took it for granted that if the fugitives 
 had gone in a northerly direction, they could not 
 have followed the main highway, but had sought to 
 escape their pursuers by taking side' roads. But in 
 this part of East Bothnia hundreds of small roads 
 at that time crossed each other, all leading to 
 the new settlements further east. What was it 
 that told him the fugitives would have chosen just 
 this road? 
 
 His heart beat when he approached the window. 
 Of the four small panes, two were of horn — a sub- 
 stance formerly used instead of glass; one of them 
 was broken and stopped up with moss; only the 
 fourth was of glass, but so covered with ice and 
 snow that at first nothing could be seen through it. 
 Bertel breathed on the glass, but found to his vex- 
 ation that the frost on the inside defied his curiosity. 
 Just then his horse neighed. 
 
 It seemed ridiculous to Bertel to stand spying 
 into a poor p-easant's hut. He was already on the 
 point of knocking at the door, when at that instant 
 a shadow obscured the light, and the frost on the 
 inside of the glass was quickly melted by the breath 
 of a human being, as curious to look out as he to 
 look in. Bertel was soon able to discern a face 
 with burning eyes, which, close to the window, 
 stared out, as if to discover the cause of the horse's 
 neighing. 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 279 
 
 The sight of this face had the effect of an 
 electric shock upon the nocturnal cavalier. Think- 
 ing of the beautiful Regina, Bertel had expected 
 a sight of a more agreeable kind. But instead he 
 beheld a corpse-like face surrounded by a black 
 tight-fitting leather calotte; and this dark frame 
 made the pale face seem still paler. 
 
 Bertel had seen those features before, and -when 
 he collected his thoughts, the memory of a terrible 
 night in the Bavarian woods rose vsrithin his soul. 
 Involuntarily he drew back, and stopped a moment 
 irresolute. This motion was observed by Pekka, 
 who liad remained on his horse in order to have re- 
 treat open. 
 
 " Quick! away from here!" cried he. " I have 
 said that nobody but the devil himself lives in 
 these woods." 
 
 " Yes, you are right," answered Bertel, smiling 
 at his own fears and what he considered to be the 
 product of his excited imagination. "If ever the 
 prince of darkness has taken human form, then he 
 lives in this hut. But that is just the reason why 
 we will look the worthy gentleman in the face, and 
 force him to give us lodgings for the night. Halloa 
 there! open to some travellers!'' 
 
 These words were accompanied by some violent 
 blows upon the door. 
 
280 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DON QUIXOTE IN THE NOETH. 
 
 AFTER a long delay, the door of the hut was 
 opened from the inside, and an old man, 
 bowed with age, and with a snow-white beard, ap- 
 peared at the entrance. Accustomed by the right 
 of war to take what was needed, when it was not 
 given voluntarily, Bertel pushed the old man 
 aside and entered the miserable hut without cere- 
 mony. To his great astonishment, he found it 
 empty. A half burnt pine-torch, placed between 
 the stones of the fire-place, threw a flickering light 
 around this abode of poverty. No door was seen 
 except the entrance; not a living being was dis- 
 covered, besides the old man and a large shaggy 
 dog which lay stretched on the hearth and showed 
 his teeth'to the uninvited guest. 
 
 "Where is the man in the black leather hood, 
 who was here a moment ago?" asked Bertel, sharply. 
 
 "God bless your grace!" answered the old man, 
 humbly and evasively, "who could be here but 
 your grace?" 
 
 " Out with the truth! Somebody must be hid- 
 den here. Under the bed . . . no. Behind the 
 oven . . . no. And yet you have just had a large 
 fire in the fire-place. What? I believe it is put 
 out with water! Answer!" 
 
 " It is so cold, your grace, and the hut is full of 
 cracks . . ." 
 
 Bertel's suspicions, once aroused, were not 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 281 
 
 easily dispelled. His eyes flew searchingly around 
 the room, and discovered a little object which had 
 fallen under a bench. It was a lady's glove, fine 
 and soft, lined with hare-skin. 
 
 " Will you confess, old wretch?" burst out the 
 youth, excitedly. 
 
 The old man seemed dismayed, but only for a 
 moment. He suddenly changed his manner, nod- 
 ded slyly, and pointed to the corner nearest the 
 fire-place. Bertel followed his hint; but he had 
 taken only a few steps, when the floor gave way 
 under his feet. He had stepped into the open hole 
 of a cellar, whose entrance had been hidden by the 
 heavy shadow of the fite-place. Instantly a trap- 
 • door was closed over the opening, and he heard 
 the rattling of a firm iron hasp, which made it 
 quite impossible for him to raise the trap-door 
 from below. 
 
 Bertel had fallen into one of those holes under 
 the floor where poor people keep roots and ale. 
 The hole was not deep, neither was his fall very 
 dangerous; but nevertheless Bertel was furious. 
 The little glove had told him the whole story. 
 
 She must-be here; she, the beautiful, proud, un- 
 fortunate princess, whom he had so long adored in 
 secret. How did he know but she had fallen into 
 the hands of cruel robbers? And just now, when 
 he, after years of longing, was so near her, just now 
 when she perhaps needed his help and protection, 
 he had been caught in a miserable trap, imprisoned 
 in a rat-hole, more wretched than the hut itself, of 
 which the floor served him for a ceiling. In vain 
 did he try to raise the planks of the floor by the 
 strength of his shoulders; they were as unyielding 
 as the fate which had so long mocked his dearest 
 hopes. 
 
 13* 
 
282 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 Meanwhile he could distinguish from the room 
 above him a low noise, as though several persons 
 were passing over the floor. Then all became 
 silent. 
 
 Bertel's only hope now was Pekka, who had not 
 dared to enter ithe hut. But nothing was heard of 
 him; and three or four hours passed in a deathly 
 suspense, which was increased by the prospect of 
 perishing from hunger and cold. 
 
 Then steps were again heard overhead; the 
 iron hasp was unfastened and the trap-door raised. 
 Half-frozen, Bertel crawled up from the damp hole, 
 in the firm belief that Pekka had at last discovei-ed 
 his prison. He was met instead by .the old man 
 with the snow-white beard, who, humble and 
 obsequious as before, offered his hand to help 
 him up. 
 
 Enraged, the young soldier seized the old man 
 by his bony shoulder, and prepared to question 
 him thoroughly. 
 
 "Wretch!" he exclaimed, "are you tired of 
 life, or do you not know what you are doing, mad- 
 man! What should hinder me from crushing your 
 pitiful frame against the walls of your own house?" 
 
 The old man looked at him with unmoved mien. 
 " Do so, Bertila's grandson," replied he. " Kill, 
 if you choose, your grandmother's faithful old ser- 
 vant! What use is it for him to live any longer?" 
 
 " My grandmother's old servant, do you say?" 
 " I am the last survivor of all those who formerly 
 inhabited this fertile region, now a wilderness. It 
 was I who said to Aaron Bertila, when my master's 
 house was devastated with fire and blood: ' Save 
 my lady!' and Bertila did it; — cursed be he and 
 blessed at the same time! He carried my fair and 
 noble lady from the flames; and she, an aristo- 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 283 
 
 cratic maiden, became the arrogant peasant's hum- 
 ble wife." 
 
 " But are you crazy, old man? If you are what 
 you say, why then have you shut me up in this 
 cursed hole? You must own that your friendship 
 is of a strange kind." 
 
 " Kill me, sir; I am ninety years of age! Kill 
 me; I am ... a Catholic." 
 
 "You! Well, by my sword; now I begin to 
 understand you." 
 
 " I am the last Catholic in this country. I am 
 of the time of King Johan and King Sigismund. 
 I was one of the four who buried the last nun in 
 Nadenda cloister. For twenty years I have not 
 heard mass or been sprinkled with holy water. 
 But all the saints be praised! one hour before you 
 came I had eaten of the holy wafer." 
 
 "A monk has been in your hut?" 
 
 " Yes, sir; one of ours." 
 
 " And with him was a young girl and her old 
 duenna? Answer." 
 
 " Yes, they accompanied him." 
 
 " And at my arrival you hid them . . ." 
 
 " In the loft. Yes, your grace." 
 
 " Then you decoyed me into your miserable rat- 
 hole, while you let the women and the monk 
 flee?" 
 
 " I do not deny that it is so." 
 
 " And what do you think will be your reward 
 for all this?" 
 
 " Anything — death, perhaps." 
 
 "I shall spare your life, but only on one condi- 
 tion. You must show me the way of the fugi- 
 tives." 
 
 " My life! I have told you I am ninety." 
 
 "And you do not fear . . . the rack? " 
 
284 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 " The saints grant I might be worthy so great 
 an honor! " 
 
 " But if I should burn you alive in your own 
 hut! " 
 
 "The holy martyrs have been burned at the 
 stake." 
 
 " No, old man, I am no executioner; I have 
 learned in the service of my king to revere faith- 
 fulness; " and Bertel pressed the old man's hand 
 with emotion. " But "one thing I will tell you," 
 continued he. " You think perhaps that I have 
 come to take the fugitives back to prison. It is 
 not so. I swear upon my knightly honor to de- 
 fend Lady Regina's freedom with my life, and to 
 do all in my power to assist her flight. Will you 
 now tell me what way she took?" 
 
 " No, your grace," said the old man calmly. 
 " The young lady is under the protection of the 
 saints and a prudent man. You are young and of 
 hot blood; you would only plunge them all into 
 ruin. Turn back, therefore; you will not find a 
 trace of the fugitives." 
 
 "Bull-heaS!" muttered Bertel, indignantly. 
 *' Farewell; I shall get along without your help." 
 
 " Remain here quietly till to-morrow, your 
 grace. To-day you have the liberty to walk, if 
 you choose, six miles through the high snow-drifts, 
 to the nearest farm. To-morrow you can ride 
 comfortably." 
 
 "Wretch! you have sent the horses away?" 
 
 " Yes, your grace. . . . You must be hun- 
 gry now. Here is a kettle of boiled turnips; may 
 they suit your taste." 
 
 " Ah! " thought Bertel to himself, as he paced 
 the scanty floor with hasty steps: " Not for ten 
 bottles of Rhine wine would I have Larsson see 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 285 
 
 me at this moment. He would compare me to the 
 wandering Knight of Mancha, who on the way to 
 his Duloinea fell into the most prosaio adventures. 
 How shall I get away from here through these ter- 
 rible snow-drifts?" 
 
 "But," added he aloud, "I have an idea; I will 
 try if one of the greatest amusements of my child- 
 hood cannot serve me a good turn now. Old man, 
 where do you keep your snow-shoes? " 
 
 " My snow-shoes? " replied the old man, in con- 
 fusion. " I have none." 
 
 "You have; I see it in your face. No Finn in 
 the wilderness is without snow-shoes. Here with 
 them, quick! " 
 
 And without heeding the old man's excuses, 
 Bertel pushed open the trap-door which led to the 
 garret, and drew out a splendid pair of snow- 
 shoes. 
 
 " Well, old friend," exclaimed the young officer. 
 " What do you think of my new horses? . . . 
 I call them mine, for I wager you will sell them to 
 me for these hard silver dollars. Nimbler steeds 
 have seldom hurried over high snow-drifts. If you 
 have any greeting tp send to the monk and Lady 
 Regina, I will take it with pleasure." 
 
 " Do not venture alone into the wilderness," 
 said the old man. " There is neither track nor 
 path; the woods are many miles wide, and filled 
 with wolves. It will be your certain death." 
 
 "You are wrong, my friend," replied Bertel. 
 " If I am not mistaken, there are traces in two 
 directions: one after my horse, the other after the 
 fugitives. Tell me, did they go in a sleigh or on 
 horseback?" 
 
 " I think they went on horseback." 
 
 " Then I am sure they drove. You are a fin- 
 
286 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 ished rogue. But I forgive you for the sake of 
 your excellent snow-shoes. Farewell. In a couple 
 of hours I will have found those whom I seek." 
 
 With these words, Bertel hurried away. 
 
 It was yet early in the morning, at least two or 
 three hours before sunrise. But fortunately the 
 storm had ceased; the sky had cleared, and the 
 winter stars twinkled brightly in the blue arch of 
 heaven. The cold had increased; a heavy frost 
 had covered all the branches and snow-drifts with 
 those diamonds of ice which at once dazzle and 
 charm the wanderer's eye. The sight of woods 
 and snow in a star-lit winter morning gives the 
 Northerner a peculiar and exhilarating feeling. 
 There is in this scene a grandeur, a splendor, a 
 purity, a freshness, which carries him back to the 
 impressions of childhood and the brilliant illusions 
 of youth. There is nothing to oppress the heart 
 or clip the soaring wings of fancy; all is there so 
 vast, so solemn, so free. One might say that na- 
 ture, in this deep silence of winter and night, is 
 dead; and yet she lives, warm and rich, in the wan- 
 derer's breast. It is as though she had compressed 
 into this little spot, this solitary heart in the wil- 
 derness, all her budding life, that it might be all 
 the more beautiful amidst the surrounding crystal- 
 lization, the stillness, and the radiance of stars. 
 
 Bertel experienced this feeling of freshness and 
 life. He was still young, and open to all impres- 
 sions. As he hurried along, lightly as the wind, be- 
 tween the trees and snow-drifts, he felt like a child. 
 It seemed to him that he was again the boy who 
 flew over the snow on Storkyro plains to spread 
 his snares for the heathcock in the woods. It is 
 true he was a little unsteady in the beginning, from 
 lack of practice, when the snow-shoes glided down 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 387 
 
 the icy slopes; he occasionally pushed unsteadily, 
 and sometimes stumbled. But soon he had re- 
 gained his former skill, and stood as firm as ever 
 on the uneven surface. 
 
 His task was now to find the track of the fugi- 
 tives; but this was no easy matter. He had wan- 
 dered around an hour in the direction of YlihSrma, 
 and yet had not discovered the slightest clue. 
 The last flurry of the storm had obliterated all 
 traces of travellers; he could see only the fresh 
 track of the wolf, where it had trotted through the 
 snow, and now and then a frightened ptarmigan 
 flew between the snow-covered branches. Want 
 of sleep, hunger and fatigue began to exhaust the 
 youth's strength; the cold increased as sunrise ap- 
 proached, and sprinkled his dark mustache and 
 plumed hat with frost. 
 
 Then at last he saw, on a forest road which the 
 broad pines had shielded from the blast, the fresh 
 traces of runners and horses' feet. Bertel fol- 
 lowed with renewed strength; at times the tracks 
 were lost in the snow, and then appeared again 
 where the road was sheltered. 
 
 The yellowish-red sun rose over the tree-tops in 
 the south-east. The day was cold and clear. In 
 all directions nothing was to be seen but for- 
 ests and snow-drifts. But far away in the north 
 a little column of smoke rose toward the clear 
 morning sky. Bertel strove for this point. The 
 snow-shoes regained their speed, the way seemed 
 smoother, and at last the weary adventurer reached 
 a solitary farm-house by the side of the highway. 
 
 The first person he met was Pekka, going to 
 feed his horses. 
 
 "Scoundrel!" cried Bertel, with glad surprise. 
 "Who sent you here?" 
 
388 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 "Who?" repeated Pekka, equally delighted 
 and astonished. " Well, I should say that the 
 devil did it. I waited and waited outside that 
 cursed old shanty in the woods, until my eyelids 
 became heavy and dropped together, as I sat in 
 the snow-drift. After a little while I was awakened 
 by the neighing of horses; and what did I see? A 
 sleigh just like ours, harnessed with two horses, 
 dashing away upon the road. It is either my master 
 or the devil, said I to myself, but anyway I will fol- 
 low him. Then 1 climbed upon the horse's back 
 again, and although I was horribly hungry I fol- 
 lowed. Finally the horses became tired; I lost the 
 sleigh from sight, and thanked all the saints, both 
 Catholic and Lutheran, when at last I came here 
 to this farm, and got a good bowl of porridge. 
 For if it was hot at Liitzen and NOrdlingen, then 
 it was cursedly cold in YlihSrma, that is sure." 
 
 "Good!" said Bertel, "they will not escape us. 
 But do you know one thing, Pekka: there are times 
 when hunger and sleepiness are stronger than love 
 itself. Come, let us go in !" 
 
 And Bertel entered, drank a bowl of boiled 
 milk, and, overcome with fatigue, threw himself on 
 a straw bed. There for a couple of hours we will 
 leave our wandering knight in peace. 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 289 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 KAJANA CASTLE. 
 
 F 
 
 FAR a-way in the North, where the waters of 
 the vast and mighty seas roar in their icy 
 caverns; where the foam of the cataracts never 
 freezes; where the green of the pines never with- 
 ers; where the gray and unyielding rocks com- 
 press the foaming rivers into narrow gorges, — here, 
 for thousands of years, the powers of nature have 
 waged their ceaseless strife, without rest, without 
 reconciliation: the river never tires of beating 
 against the rocks; the rocks never tire of beating 
 back the stream; the mountain-crags never grow 
 old; the immense morasses defy cultivation; the 
 frosty-clear winter sky quivers forever in the north- 
 ern light, and looks down with serene and majestic 
 calm upon the scattered huts along the river-banks. 
 Here is the home of night and terror; here is 
 the shadow in the golden pictures of Finnish 
 poetry. Here sorcery, shunning the light, weaves 
 its nets around human faith; here were the graves 
 of heroes; here was the Mount of Plagues; here 
 the mythic giants wasted their rude strength in 
 mountain wilds; here stood Hiisi's Castle, with its 
 massy steps. Here the spirit of the Past brooded 
 its gloomiest thoughts; here it retreated, step by 
 step, before the light of a newer time; and here it 
 has bled to death in its impotent rage: heathenism, 
 fallen from its greatness, and banished from more 
 cultivated fields, steals around in the sheep's cloth- 
 
290 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 ing of Christianity, haunting nightly churchyards 
 with its ghastly rites. 
 
 Before the waters of the great Northern 
 streams, maddened by their struggle in a hundred 
 cataracts, seek a brief repose in Ulea lake, they 
 pour out their concentrated anger in two immense 
 falls, Koivukoski and AmmS, close by the little 
 village of Kajana. Like the breaking crests of 
 mighty advancing ocean waves, the watery masses 
 plunge headlong down the narrow gorge; so vio- 
 lent is their fall that human daring, accustomed as 
 it is to wrestling with nature and being victorious 
 at last, pauses here in amazement and admits its 
 feebleness. Even in our day the numerous boats 
 which have steered their course down the river to 
 Uleaborg have here been forced to take to the 
 land and be drawn by horses through the streets of 
 Kajana. 
 
 Between the two falls of Koivukoski and 
 AmmS, in the stream, lies a flat ledge of rock, ac- 
 cessible from both sides by bridges. Here rise the 
 gray walls of an ancient fortress, now in ruins, and 
 constantly bathed by the waves of the stream. 
 This fortress is Kajana Castle, built in 1607, during 
 the time of Charles IX, as a bulwark against Rus- 
 sian invasion. Its history is brief, and has only one 
 bright point — its fall. Mayhap the time will come 
 in our story when we shall speak of it again. 
 
 We are now in the year 1635, and the castle 
 stands in its youthful strength. Its form resembles 
 an arrow with the point toward the current. It is 
 considered to be impregnable, unless from famine, 
 qr from heavy artillery trained upon it from the 
 surrounding heights. But how could a hostile 
 army reach Kajana castle? All around in the im- 
 mense wilderness there is no road where a wheel 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 291 
 
 oan advance. In summer, the traveller follows the 
 narrow bridle-trail through the forest, or climbs 
 the rock-hewn path; in winter, he hurries with his 
 reindeer and sledge over the ice of the lakes. 
 
 It is winter; a thick crust of ice at the river 
 shores and upon the walls of the castle shows that 
 the cold has been severe, though it has not been 
 able to freeze over the restless stream in its rapid 
 course. Some soldiers, clad in jackets of sheep- 
 skin, with the woolly side turned in, are busy- 
 drawing home wood from the forest near by. 
 There is peace in the land; the drawbridge is 
 down, and horses' hoofs thunder over the bridge of 
 the river. A violent altercation arises in the 
 castle-yard. An old woman, tall in stature, with 
 •sharp and disagreeable features, has taken posses- 
 sion of one of the loads of wood, and pushed away 
 the soldiers, while she gathers in her arms as many 
 sticks as she is able to carry, and commands a young- 
 er woman to do the same. The soldiers pour out a 
 volley of coarse words, to which the sharp-eyed 
 woman is not slow to respond. An under officer, 
 drawn there by the noise, inquires the cause, ad- 
 dresses thewoman with hard words, and orders her to 
 return the wood she has taken. The woman refuses 
 to obey; the under officer orders the wood to be for- 
 cibly taken from her; the woman plants herself by a 
 wall, raises a stick of wood in the air, and threatens 
 to crush the skull of the first man who approaches 
 her. The soldiers swear and laugh; the under 
 officer hesitates; the woman's energy takes them 
 by surprise. 
 
 Now an elderly man appears on the steps, and 
 all respectfully give way before him. It is the 
 governor, Wernstedt. As soon as the woman 
 catches sight of him, §he leaves her belligerent 
 
293 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 position, and with a stream of words relates all the 
 injustice she has suffered. 
 
 " Yes, your excellency," said she, " that is the 
 way they dare to treat a man who is the pride and 
 ornament of Sweden! Not only do they shut him 
 up in this miserable place, beyond reach of all 
 justice and honor, but they let him freeze to death 
 besides. What wood have they given us! Great 
 God! nothing but soggy and rotten chunks, which 
 fill the room with smoke, and don't give heat 
 enough to thaw the ink on his tabje. But I tell 
 you, that I, Lucia Grothusen, do not mean to be 
 imposed upon any longer. This wood here is good, 
 and I take it, as you see, right under the nose of 
 these vagabonds, who every one of them deserve 
 to hang on the highest pine in the Paldamo forest. 
 Pack yourselves off, you lazy, good-for-nothing 
 fellows, and mind how you behave before me and 
 the master. The wood is mine; that is all there is 
 about it." 
 
 The governor smiles. 
 
 " Let her keep the wood," said he to the 
 soldiers, "else not a soul in the castle will have any 
 peace. And you, Lucia, I tell you that you must 
 hold your wicked tongue, which has done so much 
 harm; otherwise it might happen that I should 
 again put you and your husband in that dungeon 
 you know of, where Erik Hare kept you, and where 
 the stream runs right under the floor. Is this the 
 thanks I get for the mild treatment I have shown 
 you, that you are constantly stirring up quarrels 
 here in the castle? Day before yesterday you 
 scolded because you did not receive soap enough 
 for your washing; yesterday you took a leg of 
 mutton, by force, from my kitchen; and to-day you 
 
FIRE AMD WATER. 293 
 
 make a fuss about the wood. Take care, Lucia; 
 my patience may come to an end." 
 
 The woman looks the governor straight in the 
 face. 
 
 " Your patience!" repeats she. "How long do 
 you think mine will last? It is now almost nine- 
 teen years that I have stayed here in this wolf-den. 
 For nineteen long years has Sweden suflFered the 
 stain of having her greatest man confined here 
 like a malefactor! . . . Mark what I say: Swed- 
 en's greatest man; for the day will come when you, 
 and I, and all these greasy souls, all these wander- 
 ing ale-jugs, shall be food for worms, and remem- 
 bered no more than the hog you slaughter to-day; 
 but the name of Johannes Messenius shall shine 
 with glory in all times. Your patience! Have I, 
 then, not had patience, — I, who all these eternal 
 years have been fighting with you for a bit of 
 bread, for firewood, for a pillow for this great man, 
 ■whom you abuse? I, the only one who has kept 
 his frail body alive, and strengthened his soul for 
 the great work which he is now completing? Do 
 you know what it means to suffer as I have suflFered; 
 to forsake all, as I have done; to be snatched 
 away from one's children; to go with despair in 
 the heart and a smile on the lips, seeming to have 
 hope when none remains? . . . Do you know, 
 governor, what all that means? And you come 
 here and speak of your patience!" 
 
 The soldiers' loud laughter interrupts the old 
 woman's volubility. She now perceives, for the 
 first time, that the governor has taken the wisest 
 course under the circumstances, and gone his way. 
 It is not the first time that Lucia Grothusen has put 
 the commander of a fortress to flight. She was 
 quite able to drive a whole garrison to the woods. 
 
294 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 But it vexes her that she cannot fully relieve her 
 mind. She throws a stick of wood at the nearest 
 and worst of her deriders, and then hurries, with 
 the wood in her arms, to reach a low back door.^ 
 The soldier, struck in the leg, seizes the stick, with, 
 an oath, and in his turn flings it after the old wo- 
 man. Lucia, hit in the heel, utters a cry pf pain 
 and anger; then she disappears through the door, 
 followed by the soldiers' mocking laughter. 
 
 During the scene of self-sacrifice on one side 
 and rudeness on both sides, a group of strangers 
 have arrived over the western bridge to the castle,, 
 and ask to be conducted to the commander. 
 
 The soldiers regard them with curiosity. They 
 wear the humble garb of peasants, but their whole 
 manner betrays a foreign country. At their head 
 is an old man with dark, squinting eyes and sallow 
 complexion; his face is scarcely seen under a 
 hairy cap of dog-skin, which covers with its 
 earflaps the greater part of his head. After him 
 comes a young women in a striped homespun wool- 
 en skirt, and a close-fitting jacket of new and fine 
 white calf-skin. Her face also is almost entirely 
 hidden under a hood of coarse felt, bordered with, 
 squirrel-skin, the fine fur of which is covered with 
 frost. Yet there can be seen a pair of beautiful 
 dark eyes of unusual brilliancy, which look forth 
 from the hood. The third in the company is a 
 little old woman, so wrapped up in furs, doubled in 
 countless folds, that her short figure has broad- 
 ened out into the form of a well-stuffed walking 
 bolster. 
 
 All these persons are brought before the gov- 
 ernor. The man with the dog-skin cap shows a 
 paper, according to which he, Albertus Simonis, 
 of his royal majesty's service, is appointed army 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 395 
 
 physician for the troops which are to go to Ger- 
 many the next spring, and is now, with his wife 
 and daughter, on a journey from Dantzic to Stock- 
 holm, by way of the north road through Wiborg 
 and Kajana. The governor examines closely both 
 the document and the man, and seems to approve 
 them. Then he conducts the travellers to a room 
 in the east wing of the castle, and orders that they 
 be provided with the refreshments necessary after 
 a long journey at that severe season. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE PEISONBE OF STATE. 
 
 "T"T"7~ E now enter a room situated in the south- 
 VV em turret of the castle. It is not very 
 inviting. It is large and dark, and although 
 having a sunny exposure, the narrow window, with 
 its thick iron gratings, only admits a few sunbeams 
 of the winter days. A large open fire-place with 
 a gray stone hearth occupies one corner of the 
 room; a rough unpainted bedstead, a -couple of 
 benches, a few chairs, a clothes-chest, a large table 
 under the window, and a high cupboard next to it, 
 comprise the furniture of the room. All these 
 things have an appearance of newness, which in 
 some measure reconciles the eye to their coarse- 
 ness. 
 
 But the room is a singular combination of 
 kitchen and study. At the upper end, nearest the 
 window, learning has established its abode. The 
 table is covered with ink-spots, and loaded with 
 
296 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 old yellow manuscripts and large folios in parch- 
 ment covers. The door of the cupboard is open, 
 disclosing that it is used as a library. The lower 
 part of the room, near the fire-place, has a differ- 
 ent appearance. Here stands the washtub beside 
 a barrel of flour; a kettle is waiting for some dried 
 fish and bits of salt pork, which struggle for a 
 place with a bucket of water and a shelf filled with 
 stone dishes. 
 
 Such is the abode which Governor Wernstedt 
 granted to the state-prisoner, Johannes Messenius, 
 his wife and servant, in exchange for the horrible 
 place where Messenius' tormentor, the old Erik 
 Hare, for so many years confined the unfortunate 
 man. This room is at least high and dry above the 
 ground. Its furniture is likewise a friendly gift 
 from the governor. Messenius occupies the upper 
 part of the room and the women of the household 
 the lower. 
 
 By the large ink-spotted table sits a bent and 
 gray-haired man, with his body wrapped in furs, 
 his feet in high reindeer boots, and his head covered 
 with a thick woolen cap. One who had seen this 
 man in the days of his prosperity, when he im- 
 periously addressed Upsala Consistory, or, proud 
 as a king on his throne, ruled over all the histori- 
 cal treasures of the Swedish state archives, could 
 scarcely have recognized in this withered form, 
 bent by age and misfortune, the man with the arro- 
 gant mind, the opponent of Rudbeck and Tegel, 
 the learned, gifted, haughty .Jesuit apostle and 
 conspirator, Johannes Messenius. But if one 
 looked deeper into those sharp, restless eyes, which 
 seemed constantly trying to penetrate the future 
 as they had done the past, and read the words 
 which his trembling hand had just penned — words 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 297 
 
 full of egotism, even to presumption, — then one 
 could divine that within this wasted tenement 
 toiled a soul unbroken by time and events, proud 
 as it had always been, ambitious as it could never 
 cease to be. 
 
 The old man's gaze was fixed upon the paper 
 long after he had laid down his pen.-- 
 
 " Yes," said he, thoughtfully and reflectively, 
 *' so shall it be. During my lifetime they have 
 trampled me like a worm in the dust; when I am 
 once dead, they will understand upon whom they 
 have trampled. Gloria, gloria in excelsis! The 
 day will come, even if it be a hundred years hence, 
 when the miserable prisoner who now, forgotten 
 by the whole world, pines away in the wilderness, 
 shall with admiration and respect be called the 
 father of Swedish history. Then," continued he, 
 with a bitter smile, "then they can do nothing 
 more for me. Then I shall be dead. . . . How 
 strange! The dead man, whose bones have long 
 mouldered in the grave, lives in his works; his 
 spirit goes revivifying and ennobling through the 
 centuries. All that he has suffered while he lived, 
 all the ignominy, all the persecutions, all the prison 
 bars, shall be forgotten, shall exist no more; only 
 his name shall still shine like a star through the 
 night of time, and posterity, with its short memory 
 and its long list of human ingratitudes, shall say, 
 in thoughtless admiration, 'He was a great 
 man!'" 
 
 During these words, the old woman whose ac- 
 quaintance we made in the castle yard entered the 
 room. She opened the door carefully, and walked 
 on tiptoe, as if afraid of waking a sleeping babe. 
 Then she put down, slowly and quietly, the wood 
 she carried in her arms. A little noise was un- 
 
298 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 avoidable; the old man at the table, startled from 
 his thoughts, began to upbraid the intruder: 
 
 "Woman!" said he, "how dare you disturb 
 me! Have I not told you, iterum iterumque, that 
 you shall take away your penates procul a parnas- 
 so ? Do you understand it . . . lupa ?" 
 
 " Dear Messenius, I am only bringing you a 
 little wood. You have been so cold all these days. 
 Don't be angry, now. I will make the room nice 
 and warm for you; it is splendid wood . . ." 
 
 " QuAd mihi tecum. Go away! You vex mSr 
 You weary me. You are, as the late king Gustaf 
 always said, Messenii mala herba/ my wormwood, 
 my nettle." 
 
 Lucia Grothusen was a very quick-tempered 
 woman, angry and quarrelsome with the whole 
 world; but now she kept quite still. How strange- 
 ly had her domestic position changed! She had 
 always idolized her husband, but so long as he was- 
 in the full strength of his manhood and his pros- 
 perity, her sturdy strength had bent his unquiet 
 and vacillating spirit like a reed under her will. 
 All that time the learned and feared Messenius 
 had been completely under her thumb. Now, the 
 rdles were changed. In the same measure as his 
 physical strength declined, indicating more and 
 more that he approached the end of his life, his 
 wife's idolatrous love overcame her domineering 
 disposition, and brought about the incredible re- 
 sult of curbing this disposition to humble submis- 
 sion. She nursed him as a mother nurses her sick 
 child, for fear of losing him. She bore every- 
 thing patiently, endeavoring by kindness to softed 
 his querulous disposition, and had never an angry 
 word to reply to his ill-natured remarks. Even on 
 the present occasion, only a slight trembling of the 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 299" 
 
 lips gave evidence of the effort it cost her to check 
 her anger. 
 
 "Never mind," said she, kindly, as she went a 
 few steps nearer, "don't feel bad about it, my 
 dear; you know it injures your health. I will not 
 do so again; next time I will lay a mat under the 
 wood, so that it will not disturb you. Now I will 
 cook you a splendid leg of mutton for supper . . . 
 Believe me, I had trouble enough to get it. I al- 
 most had to take it by fotce from the governor's- 
 kitchen." 
 
 "What, woman! have you dared to beg henefi- 
 da of the dainty food of tyrants! By Zeus! do 
 you consider me a dog, that I should eat the 
 crumbs from their tables? And you limp. Why 
 do you do that? answer me; why do you limp? I. 
 suppose you have been running around the castle 
 like a gossipping old woman, and tripped on the 
 stairs." 
 
 "Do I limp?" repeated Lucia, with a forced 
 smile. " I really believe ... I have hurt my 
 foot. . . . Ungrateful! " added she, silently, to 
 herself; " it is for your sake that I suffer." 
 
 " Go your way, and let me finish my epitaph." 
 
 But Lucia did not go; she stepped nearer to 
 him. Her eyes filled with tears, and she folded 
 both arms around the old man's neck. 
 
 "Your epitaph!" repeated she, in a voice so 
 mild that one would never have expected it from 
 these withered lips, which seemed made only for 
 hard words and invectives. 
 
 " Oh my God! " continued she, in a low tone, 
 " shall, then, all that is great and glorious on earth 
 finally become dust? But that day is still far dis- 
 tant, iny friend; yes, it must be so. Let me -see; 
 the epitaph of the great Johannes Messenius! " 
 
300 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 " Certainly," said the old man, re'conciled by 
 her flattery, which was, however, uttered with the 
 most perfect sincerity; "you, Lucia, are decidedly 
 the true persona executrix who ought to read my 
 epitaphium, as you are also the one who will have 
 it engraved on my tombstone. Look, my dear; 
 what do you think of this? 
 
 " ' Here lie the bones of Doctoris Johannes Mes- 
 senius. The soul is in God's kingdom, but his 
 fame is all over the world.'' " 
 
 " Never," said Lucia, weeping, " never were 
 truer words carved over a great man's tomb. But 
 let us say no more about it. Let us speak of your 
 great work, your Scondia. Do you know, I have 
 a feeling that its glory will in a short time prepare 
 freedom for you." 
 
 " Freedom! " repeated Johannes Messenius, in 
 a melancholy tone. " Yes, you are right; the 
 freedom of the grave, to moulder wherever one 
 chooses." 
 
 "No," replied Lucia, with eagerness and enthu- 
 siasm; "your eyes shall yet see the honor that is 
 due you. Your great Scondia illustrata will be 
 read; it will be printed . . . with your name 
 in gilded letters on the title-page; . . . the 
 whole world, full of admiration, will say, 'Never 
 has its equal existed in the North! ' " 
 
 "And never will exist again!" added Messe- 
 nius, with confidence. "Oh! who will restore me 
 my freedom ?— freedom that I may behold my 
 work, and triumph over my enemies. Exaudi me, 
 Domine, porrigo manus meas coram facie tual 
 Libera me a m,iseris; etenim dixisti: prosternam 
 inimicos tuos calcondos pedibus tms.* Who will 
 
 * Hear me, Lord, I stretch out my hands before Thy face. Save me 
 from misery, for Thou hast said: I will prostrate thine enemies, to be 
 trampled under thy feet. 
 
FIRE AI^D WATER. 301 
 
 give me freedom — freedom and ten years of life to 
 witness the fruit of my labor?" 
 
 "I!" answered a hollow voice from the lower 
 end of the room. 
 
 At the sound of this voice, Messenius and his 
 wife turned around with superstitious terror. The 
 loneliness of the prison, andthe impression of the 
 wild nature surroundinsf them, which in all times 
 will be the fruitful soil of superstition, had in- 
 creased the belief of both in supernatural things 
 to perfect conviction. More than once had Messe- 
 nius' brooding spirit been at the point of plunging 
 into the enticing labyrinth of Kabala and the black 
 art, but his zealous work and his wife's religious 
 exhortations held him back. Now came an unex- 
 pected answer to his question . . from heaven 
 or the infernal abyss, it mattered not which; it was 
 an answer — a straw for his drowning hope. 
 
 The short winter day drew to a close, and twi- 
 light already spread its shadows over that part of 
 the prison room which lay nearest the door. From 
 this obscurity advanced a man, in whose sallow fea- 
 tures could be recognized the same person who a 
 few hours before had gained an entrance in the 
 castle, under the name of Albertus Simonis. He 
 had probably, in his capacity of physician, obtained 
 permission to see the prisoner; for the whole 
 medical faculty of the castle consisted only of a 
 barber, who practiced chirurgery, and an old sol- 
 dier's widow, whose skill in curing internal diseases 
 was highly commended, especially when it was as- 
 sisted by incantations, which, forbidden by the 
 church, were «till used in the bath-room as a pow- 
 erful form of sorcery. 
 
 "Pax vobiscum/" said the stranger, with great 
 solemnity, and approaching the window. 
 
202 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 " Et tecum sit Dominus! " answered Messenius, 
 quite as solemnly, and with mingled curiosity and 
 inquietude. 
 
 " Procul sit a concilio lingua mulieris! " con- 
 tinued the stranger, in the same tone. 
 
 Lucia, in whose youth the daughters of learned 
 men read Latin better than those of the nineteenth 
 century read French, did not wait for a further 
 admonition, but left the room, with a scrutinizing 
 glance at the mysterious stranger. 
 
 Messenius made a sign to his guest to take a 
 seat at his side. The whole of their conversation 
 was carried on in Latin. 
 
 " Receive my greeting, great man, whom mis- 
 fortune has been able only to elevate! " began the 
 stranger, craftily touching Messenius' weakest 
 side. 
 
 " Welcome, you who do not disdain to visit the 
 forsaken! " replied Messenius, with unusual cour- 
 tesy. 
 
 "Johannes Messenius, do you recognize me?" 
 continued the stranger, letting the light fall on his 
 pale features. 
 
 " It seems to me that I have seen your face 
 before," answered the prisoner, hesitatingly; " but 
 it must have been long, long ago." 
 
 " Do you remember a boy in Braunsberg, some 
 years younger than you, who was educated with 
 you in the school of the holy fathers, and after- 
 wards in your company visited Rome and Ingold- 
 stadt?" 
 
 "Yes, I remember ... a boy who gave 
 great promise of one day becoming a pillar of the 
 church . . . Hieronymus Mathi»." 
 
 " This Hieronymus Mathise am I." 
 
 Messenius felt a shiver run through his frame. 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 303 
 
 How had not the tooth of time, the experiences of 
 years, and the soul-destroying doctrines of Jesuit- 
 ism, changed the features of the once blooming 
 boy! Father Hieronymus, for it was he, observed 
 this impression, and hastened to add: 
 
 " Yes, my revered friend, five and thirty 
 years' struggle for the welfare of the only saving 
 ~ church has withered the roses forever in these 
 cheeks. I have toiled, I have suffered, in these 
 evil times. Like you, great man, but with a 
 smaller measure of genius, have I wrought in the 
 vineyard, without any recompense for my trouble 
 save the holy martyr's crown in Paradise. You 
 have in my youth shown me much friendship; now I 
 will repay it, so far as is in my power. I will 
 restore you to freedom and to life." 
 
 " Ah, reverend father," answered the old man, 
 with a deep sigh, " I am not worthy that you, the 
 faithful son of the holy church, should extend to 
 me, poor apostate, your hand. You do not know, 
 then, that I have renounced our faith; that I, with 
 my own hand and mouth, have embraced the 
 accursed Lutheran religion, which in my heart I 
 abhor; nay, that I have even sometimes persecuted 
 your holy order with all kinds of godless libels?" 
 
 "Do I not know all this, my honored friend? 
 Have not the great Messenius' work and deeds 
 flown on the wings of fame even to Germany? 
 But what you have done, you have done only as 
 on outer show, in order to work in secret for the 
 welfare of our holy Roman church. Do not the 
 holy Scriptures teach us to meet craft with craft in 
 these godless times? — -perinde ac serpenies estate: 
 ' ye shall be wily as serpents.' The Holy Virgin 
 -will give you absolution for all you have done for 
 _her sake. Yes, revered man, even have you seven 
 
304 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 times abjured your faith, and seventy-seven times 
 sinned against all the saints and the dogmas of the 
 church, it shall be accounted to you for glory and 
 not for condemnation, provided you have done it 
 with a mental reservation and to serve the good 
 cause. Even if your tongue has lied and your 
 hand slain, it shall be deemed a pious and holy 
 work, vyhen it was for the purpose of bringing 
 back stray sheep. Courage, great man; I give you 
 absolution in the name of the church." 
 
 " Yes, pious father, those teachings which the 
 worthy Jesuits in Braunsberg so eloquently im- 
 planted in my young soul, I have faithfully fol- 
 lowed. But now, in my old age, it sometimes, 
 seems to me as if my conscience had many objec-- 
 tions to . . . ." 
 
 "Temptations of the devil! — nothing else., 
 Drive them away! " 
 
 " That may all be, pious father! Yet, to quiet, 
 my conscience, I have written a formal confession,, 
 in which I openly explain my adoption of the 
 Lutheran faith to be a hypocritical act, and as 
 openly proclaim my adherence to the Catholic 
 church." 
 
 " Hide this confession — show it not to any mor- 
 tal eye!" interrupted the Jesuit, quickly. "Its 
 time will yet come." 
 
 "I do not understand your reasons, pious 
 father! " 
 
 " Listen attentively to what I have to say. Dq 
 you think, old man, that I, without important rea- 
 sons, have ventured up here in the wilderness 
 hundreds of miles, daily exposed to hunger, cold, 
 wild beasts, and the still wilder people, who 
 would burn me alive if they knew who I was and 
 what were my designs? Do you think that I 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 305 
 
 would have forsaken the field in my own country, 
 too wide for my feeble energies, had I not hoped 
 to accomplish more here? Then will I briefly ex- 
 plain the matter. . . . Can anybody hear us? 
 Are there any secret passages in these walls?" 
 "Be composed; no mortal ear can hear us." 
 " Know then," continued the Jesuit, in a low 
 voice, "that again we have taken up the never- 
 abandoned plan of restoring heretic Sweden to the 
 bosom of the Roman church. There are only two 
 powers which can still resist us; and, the saints be 
 praised, these powers become day by day more 
 harmless. The house of Stuart, in England, is 
 enmeshed in our nets, and secretly does everything 
 for our cause. Sweden still lies stunned by the ter- 
 rible blow at NSrdlingen, and cannot, without some 
 new miracle, retain its arrogant position in Germany. 
 The time has come; our plans are matured; iwe 
 must avail ourselves of our enemies' powerlessness. 
 In a few years, England will fall into our hands 
 like a ripe apple. Sweden, still proud of former 
 victories, will be forced to do the same. The means 
 to this end will be a change of dynasty." 
 
 " Christina, King Gustaf's daughter ..." 
 "Is a nine-year-old child, and besides, a girl! 
 We are not without allies in Sweden, who still 
 remember the exiled royal family. The weak 
 Sigismund is dead; Vladislaus, his son, stretches 
 out his hands, with all the impatience of youth, for 
 the crown of his fathers. It shall be his." 
 U 13* 
 
306 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE TEMPTBR. 
 
 "TT LADISLAUS on the throne of Sweden? I 
 
 V doubt if we shall live to see that day," in- 
 terrupted Messenius dubiously. 
 
 " Hear me to the end," continued the Jesuit, 
 inspirited by the far-reaching plan his artful head 
 had woven. " You yourself, great Messenius, are 
 the one who shall perform this miracle." 
 
 "I ... a miserable prisoner! Impossible." 
 
 "To the saints and genius, nothing is impos- 
 sible. The Swede is loyal. He follows his king, 
 for good or evil. He has especially a great rever- 
 ence for old King Gustaf Vasa. If it could now 
 be proved that the said king, in death-bed repent- 
 ance, declared the Lutheran doctrine to be false, 
 that he abjured and condemned the reformation, 
 that he charged his youngest son, the papistical 
 Johan, to atone for his great errors . . ." 
 
 " What do you dare to say?" burst out Mes- 
 senius, with undisguised surprise. " A lie so evi- 
 dent, which is in direct opposition to Gustaf Vasa's 
 last words and death, all of which has been so faith- 
 fully recorded . . ." 
 
 "Calm yourself, revered friend," interrupted 
 the Jesuit, coolly. " If it further could be proved 
 that the second founder and bulwark of Lutheran- 
 ism, Charles IX, likewise on his death-bed declared 
 the reformation a misfortune and a blasphemy . . ." 
 
 Messenius regarded the Jesuit with dismay. 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 307 
 
 "And if it finally can be proved that King 
 Gustaf Adolf himself, before breathing his last on 
 the battle-field of Liitzen, was seized by a sudden 
 inspiration, and died a heretic's death, in unavail- 
 ing repentance and anguish of soul . . ." 
 
 Messenius' pale cheeks flushed. 
 
 " Then," continued the Jesuit, with the same 
 imperturbable boldness, " then there remains of 
 the Wasa dynasty only the foolish Erik XIV, the 
 acknowledged papist Johan III, and the professed 
 Catholic Sigismund, with none of whom do we 
 need to trouble ourselves. Once convinced that 
 their greatest kings, all of them in fact, either 
 have been papistical or have become so in their 
 last moments, the veil will finally fall from the 
 eyes of the Swedish people; they will penitently 
 confess their guilt, and at last fall back into the 
 bosom of the only saving Roman church." 
 
 " And how will you, reverend father, in the face 
 of all the facts, convince the Swedes of the apostacy 
 of their kings?" 
 
 "I have already said," replied the Jesuit, flat- 
 teringly, " that such a great and meritorious mis- 
 sion can be accomplished only by the gifted Johan- 
 nes Messenius. All know that you are the most 
 learned man and the greatest historian of Sweden. 
 They know that you have possessed, and still hold 
 in your hands, more historical documents and 
 secrets than any one else in the whole kingdom. 
 Use these advantages skillfully and judiciously; 
 fabricate documents that never existed; imagine 
 events which jiever took place . . ." 
 
 " What do you dare to say?" exclaimed Mes- 
 senius, with flaming cheeks. 
 
 The Jesuit misunderstood his emotion. 
 
 " Yes," continued the father, " the undertaking 
 
308 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 is a bold one, but far from impossible. A hasty 
 flight to Poland will, besides, place you in security.'* 
 
 "And it is to me — to me — you propose this?" 
 
 "Yes," added Hieronymus, in the same tone. 
 "I realize that Gustaf Adolf would cause you the 
 greatest trouble, and therefore I take that part of 
 the task. You have thus only Gustaf I and Charles 
 IX as your share, to portray them in such a light 
 as will best serve our cause and that of the holy 
 church." 
 
 ^'■Ahi a me, malespiritus 1 " cried Messenius, in 
 ah outburst of rage, which the Jesuit, in spite of 
 his sagacity, was far from expecting. "You vile 
 calumniator! you liar! you wretch, who profane 
 with your touch the holiest things! — do you believe 
 that I, Johannes Messenius, have worked so many 
 long years to become Sweden's greatest historian, 
 in order suddenly, in so infamous, so unheard-of 
 a way, to violate the historical truth which I have 
 re-established with such protracted toil? Pack 
 yourself off this instant! quick . . . away, in Ge- 
 hennam!" . . . and with these words the old man, 
 beside himself with anger, flung at the Jesuit's 
 head everything that he could get hold of — books, 
 papers, inkstand, sandbox — with such violence 
 that the bold monk started. The father's sallow 
 face became for a moment still paler . . . then he 
 took a few steps backwards, rose to his full height, 
 and opened the plaited Spanish doublet of velvet, 
 which covered his breast. A crucifix, set with 
 flashing diamonds, and surrounded by a crown of 
 thorns composed of rubies, glittered.unexpectedly 
 in the gathering twilight. 
 
 This ornament seemed to have a magic efi^ect 
 upon Messenius. His excited voice suddenly be- 
 came silent; his anger changed almost instantly to 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 309 
 
 unmistakable fear . .. . his knees trembled; he 
 staggered, and was on the point of falling, but 
 supported himself with diiBculty against the high- 
 backed chair by the writing-table. 
 
 The Jesuit, advancing slowly, pierced the pris- 
 oner with those indescribable eyes which have been 
 compared to the rattlesnake's. " Have you for- 
 gotten, old man," said he, with a measured and 
 commanding tone, letting each crushing word be 
 followed by a pause calculated to increase its sharp 
 effect, "have you forgotten the penalty which the 
 church and the laws of our holy order ordain fc* 
 sins like yours? For apostacy, death . . . and you 
 have seven times apostatized! For blasphemy, 
 death . . . and you have seven times blasphemed! 
 For disobedience, death. . . . and you have seven 
 times disobeyed! For sin against the Holy Ghost, 
 damnation . . . and who has sinned like you! For 
 heresy, the stake . . . and who has merited it like 
 you! For offense and disrespect against the holy 
 ones of the Lord, eternal fire . . . and who has 
 offended like you?" 
 
 "Grace, holy father, grace!" exclaimed Mes- 
 senius, while he writhed like a worm under the 
 Jesuit's terrible threats. 
 
 But Father Hieronymus continued: 
 
 "Nicolaus Pragensis, the celebrated man, went 
 over to Calvin's false doctrines, and dared defy 
 the head of our order. He fled to the remotest 
 corner of Bohemia; but revenge found him. The 
 dogs tore his body, and the spirits of hell tear his 
 soul . . ." 
 
 "Grace! mercy!" sighed the prisoner, annihilated. 
 
 " Well," continued the Jesuit, haughtily, " I 
 have given you the choice between glory and per- 
 dition; I will present it to you once more, although 
 
310 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 you do not deserve it. Do you believe, miserable 
 apostate, that I, the head of the German and North- 
 ern Jesuits, -who do not acknowledge any one 
 above me except the holy father at Rome — do you 
 believe that I, who have defied a thousand dan- 
 gers to seek you here in your wretched corner, will 
 allow you with your disobedience and irresolution 
 to deter me, the invisible ruler of the whole North? 
 I ask you once more, in the name of our holy or- 
 der, if you, Johannes Messenius, will be faithful 
 to the oath you swore in your youth, and passively 
 obey the behests and commands which I, your 
 superior and your judge, enjoin upon you?" 
 
 " Yes, holy father," answered the prisoner, 
 trembling; " 1 -will." 
 
 " Listen, then, to the penalty I impose. You 
 say that you have through your whole life striven 
 for a single aim: to gain the name of the greatest 
 historian in the North; and you think that you 
 have at last attained your aim?" 
 
 "Yes, holy father, this has been my aim, and I 
 have attained it." 
 
 "Your aim is false!" exclaimed the Jesuit, in 
 crushing tones. "Your aim is of sin and the 
 devil ; for you have worked for your own glory, and 
 not for that of the holy church, as you have sworn. 
 Therefore I inflict upon you the punishment that 
 you destroy, with your own hands, the idol of your 
 life — your great fame with posterity — by perverting 
 history, and writing it, not as it is, but as it ought 
 to be. I bid you cast away fame and posterity, in 
 order to serve the cause of the present, which is the 
 victory of the Roman church in the North. I bid 
 you write the history of the kings Gustaf I and 
 Charles IX in such a way that all they have done 
 for the Reformation may redound as a ruin and a 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 311 
 
 curse to them and their kingdom. And I bid you 
 base this new history on documents so plausible that 
 in the eyes of the people they may defy any 
 proofs to the contrary ...» documents which 
 do not exist, I know it full well, but which you 
 shall manufacture . . . documents whose 
 spuriousness may possibly be discovered in a com- 
 ing generation, but which for the present shall 
 serve the desired purpose." 
 
 " And thus," said Messenius, in a voice which 
 trembled with the most varied emotions — fear, 
 anger, humiliation, "thus I shall stand before pos- 
 terity as a base falsifier, an infamous defamer of 
 history's holiest truth . . " 
 
 "Yes; and what then?" resumed the Jesuit, 
 with a mocking smile; "what matters it if you, 
 miserable tool, sacrifice your name, provided the 
 church gains its great victory? Of what benefit 
 to you is the praise of men, if your soul burns in 
 the fire of hell? and what harm can human con- 
 tempt do you, if through this sacrifice you have 
 gained the martyr's crown in heaven?" 
 
 " But the cause of truth — the inexorable judg- 
 ment of history?" 
 
 "Bah! what is historical truth? Is it anything 
 more than the obedient slave who follows at the 
 heels of human errors . . . the parrot which 
 thoughtlessly repeats human follies? Or is it not 
 rather reality such as it ought to fie, purified from 
 error, freed from crime and folly . . . God's 
 kingdom on earth, as wise as it is almighty, as 
 good as it is holy and wise?" 
 
 " But is it then we who dictate to God what is 
 goo.d and wise? Has he not himself told us this, 
 through reality as it is?" 
 
 "Ha! vacillating apostate! you still dare to 
 
312 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 argue with your superior about right and wrong! 
 Choose and obey! Choose on one side temporal 
 and eternal death; on the other the joys of Para- 
 dise and the glory of the saints. One word more; 
 and upon this depends your weal or woe: Will you 
 obey my commands?" 
 
 " Yes, 1 will obey," answered the prisoner, 
 trembling and crushed. And the Jesuit strode 
 away, silent and cold, with a ruler's nod that the 
 slave had his good grace. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ABI, MALE SPIEITUS. 
 
 A WEEK or SO had passed since we listened to 
 the secret conference. During this time, 
 the Jesuit had not lost sight of the prisoner. He 
 was daily seen to smuggle himself, under the pre- 
 text of medical attendance, into Messenius' room, 
 and spend several hours with him. He was too 
 prudent to rely upon the vacillating promise of the 
 prisoner. What they did together, no one in the 
 castle knew, and the governor had no suspicions. 
 The situation of Kajana Castle, remote from the 
 world, had lulled Wernstedt into a feeling of 
 security; he rather found pleasure in the society of 
 the foreign doctor, who gave evidence of great 
 learning joined to great worldly experience. 
 
 There was one, however, who, with a vigilant 
 eye, followed the stranger's steps; and this was 
 Lucia Grothusen, Messenius' wife. A Catholic by 
 education and conviction, she had always strength- 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 313 
 
 ened her husband in his papistical trickeries; the 
 Jesuit knew this quite well, and therefore felt sure 
 of her co-operation, although he cautiously avoided 
 trusting his plans to the tireless female tongue. 
 But the subtlest plans are often stranded upon 
 these hidden impulses of the human heart, 
 especially woman's heart, which work in quite 
 a dijBFerent direction from the one which cold 
 reason marks out. The Jesuit, with all his 
 shrewdness, had been mistaken in Lucia. He 
 had not calculated that when fanaticism in her 
 head cried, "Push on!" love cried still louder in 
 her heart, "Hold back!" And with women, love 
 always gains the mastery. 
 
 Lucia was an uncommonly sharp-sighted 
 woman; she had seen through the Jesuit before he 
 could suspect it. She saw the destructive inward 
 strife which raged in Messenius' breast — a strife of 
 life and death between fanaticism on the one hand, 
 which bade him sacrifice fame and posterity for the 
 victory of the church, and on the other ambition, 
 which continually pleaded in his ears: " Will you, 
 then, yourself, break down your whole life's work? 
 Will you, then, blindly desecrate the sanc- 
 tuary of history? Will you expose to contempt 
 the brilliant name whicli still, in the night of cap- 
 tivity, is your wealth and your pride?" 
 
 AH this, Lucia saw with the sharp eye of love; 
 she saw that the man she loved, and for whom she 
 had sacrificed an entire life in patience and self- 
 denial, might sink under this terrible inward strife; 
 and she resolved to save him by one bold and deci- 
 sive step. 
 
 Late one evening, the lamp still burned on 
 Messenius' writing-table, where he and the Jesuit 
 had been working together since morning. Lucia 
 14 
 
314 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 had received permission to retire to her bed, which 
 stood at the other end of the long room, near the 
 door; and she pretended to be asleep. The men 
 at the table had finished their work, and were con- 
 versing in a low voice, now, as always, in Latin, 
 which language Lucia understood very well. 
 
 " I am content with you, my friend," said the 
 Jesuit, with apparent satisfaction. "These docu- 
 ments, which bear the stamp of truth, will be 
 sufficient to prove the conversion of King Gustaf 
 Wasa and King Charles; and this introduction, 
 signed by you, will further strengthen their 
 validity. I will now return to Germany through 
 Sweden, in order to have these documents printed, 
 either through our adherents in Stockholm, or, if 
 found possible, in Lubeck or Leyden." 
 
 Messenius stretched out his hand involuntarily, 
 as if to snatch back a precious treasure from a 
 robber's hands. 
 
 " Holy father," exclaimed he, with visible con- 
 sternation, "is there then no reprieve? My name 
 . . . my reputation . . . Have mercy upon 
 me, holy father! — give me back my name! " 
 
 The Jesuit smiled. 
 
 " Do I not give you a name," said he, " far 
 greater and more glorious than the one you lose — 
 a name in the chronicles of our holy order— a name 
 among the martyrs and benefactors of the church 
 — a name which may one day be counted among 
 the saints?" 
 
 " But with all this, a name without honor — 
 a liar's, a falsifier's name!" burst out Messenius,. 
 with the despair of a condemned man who is 
 shown the glory of heaven shining through the 
 clouds of the scaffold. 
 
 " Weak, vain man, who do not know that great 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 315 
 
 ends are never won by the fear or praise of human- 
 ity!" said the Jesuit, in a contemptuous tone. 
 "You might still be able to recall your word and 
 forfeit your claims to the gratitude of all Christen- 
 dom. But happily it is now impossible. These 
 documents" — and with this he extended his hand 
 triumphantly with the papers — " are now in a hand 
 which knows how to keep them, and, against your 
 will, to use them for the glory of the church, the 
 victory of faith, and your own soul's eternal wel- 
 fare." 
 
 Father Hieronymus had scarcely uttered these 
 words, before a hand behind him swiftly and un- 
 expectedly seized the papers, which he had raised 
 so triumphantly, snatched them from his hand, 
 crumpled them together, tore them in a hundred 
 pieces, and strewed the fragments over the floor 
 of the prison. This movement was so unlocked 
 for, the Jesuit was so far from expecting anything 
 of the kind, that he for a moment lost his usual 
 resoluteness, and with amazement which overcame 
 his presence of mind, gave the daring hand time to 
 finish its work of destruction. When the frag- 
 ments lying around convinced him of the reality of 
 his loss, he compressed his lips with rage, he raised 
 his arms, and with the ferocity of a tiger fell upon 
 the presumptuous being who had dared to annihilate 
 his plans in the very moment of victory 
 
 Lucia — for the daring hand was hers — met the 
 outbreak of the monk's fury with the energetic 
 courage which distinguishes woman when she 
 struggles for her holiest possessions. In her 
 youth she had been able to take a man by the 
 collar, and this scarcely womanly strength of arm 
 had more than once been exercised during the con- 
 stant quarrels with the rude soldiers of the castle. 
 
316 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 She hastily clasped her sinewy fingers around the 
 monk's outstretched arms, and held them as in a 
 vise. 
 
 " Well," said she, in a mocking tone, "keep your 
 distance from me, sir; what is it you wish?" 
 
 " Mad woman!" roared the Jesuit, foaming with 
 rage. "You know not what you have done! Miser- 
 able thief ! you have stolen a kingdom from your 
 church and a paradise from your husband!" 
 
 "And from you I have stolen your booty — from 
 the wolf his secure prey; is it not so?" answered 
 Lucia, in a tone which in its turn began to rise 
 with the fire of her violent temper. "Monk," con- 
 tinued she, with increasing anger, as she violently 
 shook the mighty man, who in vain tried to get 
 loose, "I know a thief who, in the sheep's cloth- 
 ing of the church, comes to steal from a great 
 man his honor, from a whole nation its history, 
 from a poor forsaken woman her sole pride — her 
 husband's peace, fame, and life. Tell me, pious and 
 holy monk, what punishment does such a thief de- 
 serve? Would not Amma falls be too shallow for 
 his body, and the eternal fire too cool for his soul?" 
 
 The Jesuit glanced quickly toward the window, 
 outside which the mighty torrent descended 
 gloomily in the winter night. 
 
 " Ha!" exclaimed Lucia, with a bitter smile, 
 "you fear me — you, the powerful one who rules 
 kingdoms and consciences! You fear that under 
 i"y gr^y dress might be concealed a man's arm, 
 which could hurl you down into the cataract's abyss. 
 Becalm . . . I am only a woman, and therefore I 
 fight with a woman's weapons. You see . . . I do 
 not throw you out of the window ... I content 
 myself with placing the wild beast behind bolts and 
 bars. Tremble, monk ! I know who you are ! 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 317 
 
 Lucia Grothusen has followed your steps; you are 
 betrayed, and it is she who has betrayed you." 
 
 " Betrayed!" repeated the Jesuit, who realized 
 but too well what this word involved. In a time 
 so full of hatreds, when two religions fought to- 
 gether for temporal and spiritual supremacy, when 
 the Jesuits' plots irritated the Swedes in the high- 
 est degree, a member of this order, detected in 
 disguise within the borders of the kingdom, was lost 
 beyond rescue. But the threatening peril restored 
 to this dangerous character all its elasticity. 
 
 " Betrayed by you, my daughter," repeated he, 
 as his arms dropped, and his features assumed an 
 expression of do'^bt and mild grief. " That is im- 
 possible!" 
 
 Lucia regarded him with hate and distrust. 
 
 "I your daughter!" exclaimed she, pushing 
 the monk from her with aversion. " Falsehood is 
 your daughter, and deceit your mother. These are 
 your relatives!" 
 
 "Lucia Grothusen," said the Jesuit, very gently, 
 " when you were a child, and followed your father, 
 Arnold Grothusen, who was expelled with King 
 Sigismund, you came one day, a distressed fugitive, 
 and surrounded by persecutors, to a peasant's cot. 
 They refused you refuge; they threatened to de- 
 liver you to your enemies. Then your childish 
 eyes discovered in a corner of the hut an image of 
 the Virgin, a relic from former times, profaned as 
 a plaything for ignorant children. You took this 
 image, you kissed it, you held it up before the 
 hard-hearted inmates of the cot, and said to them: 
 'See, the Virgin Mary is here; she will protect us!'" 
 
 ""Well, what then?" said Lucia, with an invol- 
 untary softness in her voice. 
 
 " Your childish trust ... no; what do I say? — 
 
318 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 the Holy Virgin — moved the hard peasants; they 
 gave you shelter, they placed you in security. 
 Still more, they gave you the image, which you 
 have ever since preserved as your guardian saint; 
 and there it hangs yet upon your v^all. What you 
 once said, I say now: 'The Virgin Mary is here; 
 she will protect me.' " 
 
 Lucia tried in vain to struggle against an inner 
 emotion. She bit her lip and made no reply. 
 
 "You are right," continued the monk, with 
 shrewd calculation, "I am a Catholic like you, per- 
 secuted like you; if my disguise is known, they 
 will kill me. My life is in your hands; betray me; 
 I flee not; I die for my faith, and I forgive you 
 my death." 
 
 " Fly! " said Lucia, half conquered; "I give you 
 till to-morrow. But only on the condition that you 
 do not see my husband again." 
 
 " Well, then," said the Jesuit, sadly, " I fly, but 
 I leave here my beautiful dream of a better future. 
 Ah, I had imagined the great Messenius and his 
 noble wife as those who would reinstate the Catho- 
 lic church in the North; I had imagined the time 
 when millions of people would say: 'We wandered 
 in darkness and blindness, but the light of history 
 has dawned for us; the great Messenius has re- 
 vealed to us the falseness of the Reformation.'" 
 
 "If it could be done without infringing upon 
 the truth! " exclaimed Lucia, whose fiery soul was 
 more and more transported by the future which 
 the Jesuit so skillfully placed before her view. 
 
 "The truth!" repeated the Jesuit, with mild 
 persuasion. " Oh, my friend, truth is our faith — 
 falseness is the heretics' faith. If you become 
 convinced that I ask of your husband only the 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 319 
 
 truth itself, will you then, instead of tearing down 
 your church, help to rebuild it?" 
 
 "Yes, I will!" answered Lucia, warmly and 
 earnestly. 
 
 "Then listen . . ." continued the Jesuit; but 
 he was just then interrupted by Messenius, who, 
 hitherto stunned and crestfallen, now seemed to 
 waken from a horrible dream. 
 
 "4Si, male spiritus !" exclaimed he, with frantic 
 violence, as though he feared the Jesuit's serpent 
 tongue would once more conquer. '■'•Abi, Abi 1 
 you are not a human being, you are the prince of 
 lies himself, you are the very serpent of paradise! 
 Abi, abi in ceternam ignem, sabitaculum tutim, in 
 regnum mendacii, imperium tuum .'" And with 
 this he pushed the Jesuit before him toward the 
 door, while Lucia made not the least effort to 
 hinder. 
 
 '■'■ Insanit miser!'''' muttered the Jesuit, as he 
 disappeared. 
 
 "Thanks, my friend!" said Lucia, with a re- 
 lieved heart, as though freed from a dangerous 
 spell. 
 
 "Thanks, Lucia!" answered Messenius, more 
 mildly than usual with him for a long time in ad- 
 dressing his wife. 
 
320 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE JUDGMENT OF THE SAINTS. 
 
 T T^ERY early the following morning, Father 
 ^ Hieronymus entered the room occupied by 
 Lady Regina von Emraeritz and old Dorthe. Pale 
 from vigils and grief, the beautiful girl sat by the 
 bedside of her faithful servant. At the entrance 
 of the Jesuit, Regina hastily rose. 
 
 "Save Dorthe, my father!" she exclaimed im- 
 petuously. . . . "I have looked for you every- 
 where, and you have abandoned me! " 
 
 "Hush!" said the Jesuit in a -whisper. "Speak 
 low; the walls have ears. So . . . indeed! 
 . . . ]3orthe is sick? Poor old woman! it is 
 too bad; I cannot help her. They have found out 
 our disguise. They suspect us. We must flee 
 this day — this moment." 
 
 " Not before you have made Dorthe well. I be- 
 seech you, my father; you are wise, you know all 
 remedies; give Dorthe a restorative, immediate in its 
 effect, and we will follow you wherever you choose." 
 
 " Impossible! — we have not a moment to lose. 
 Come!" 
 
 " Not without Dorthe, my father! Holy Virgin! 
 should I abandon her, ray nurse, my motherly 
 friend?" 
 
 The Jesuit stepped to the bed, took the old 
 woman's hand, touched her brow, and pointed to it 
 in silence, with a mien of which Regina but too 
 well understood the significance. 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 331 
 
 "She is dead!" exclaimed the young girl, in 
 dismay. 
 
 "Yes; what matters it?" continued the Jesuit; 
 and a strangely sinister smile struggled with the 
 air of regret which he tried to assume. " You see, 
 my child," added ho, " that the saints have wished 
 to spare our faithful friend a toilsome road, and 
 have taken her instead up to the heavenly glory. 
 There is nothing more to be done here. Come!" 
 
 But, in the midst of her tears, Regina had per- 
 ceived the peculiar smile, and it struck her with an 
 indescribable terror. She seemed to divine a dark 
 secret. 
 
 "Come!" repeated he, hastily. "I will give 
 Messenius' wife, who is a Catholic, the charge of 
 burying our friend." 
 
 Regina's dark eyes stared at the monk in 
 horror. 
 
 " Last evening, at seven o'clock," said she, 
 " Dorthe was in gpod health. Then she drank the 
 potion of strengthening herbs which you have pre- 
 pared for her each evening. At eight o'clock she 
 was taken ill . . . ten hours afterward she has 
 ceased to live." 
 
 "The fatigue of the long journey ... a 
 cold ... an inflammation . . . nothing 
 more is wanted. Come! " said the Jesuit, un- 
 easily. 
 
 But Regina did not go. 
 " Monk!" said she, in a voice that trembled with 
 horror and loathing, " you have given her poison." 
 
 " My child, my daughter, what are you thinking 
 of? Grief has unsettled your reason; come, I 
 forgive you." 
 
 " She was a burden to you ... I saw your 
 impatience on our journey here. And now you 
 V 
 
323 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF ^ 
 
 wish me to place myself in your power without 
 protection. Holy Virgin, save me! I will not go 
 with you! " 
 
 The Jesuit's mobile features hastily changed 
 their expression, and assumed that commanding 
 severity with which he had made Messenius yield. 
 
 " Ohild," said he, " do not draw upon yourself 
 the anger of the saints by listening to the sugges- 
 tions of the tempter. Remember where you are, 
 unfortunate, and who you are. One moment's 
 further hesitation, and I leave you here, a prey to 
 want, captivity, death; a target for the heretics' 
 scorn, a lost sheep which the Holy Virgin has 
 abandoned. Here, perdition and misery . . 
 there, in your fatherland, freedom, fortune, the 
 comforts of religion, the favor of the saints. 
 Choose, but choose quickly, for the sleigh stands 
 waiting; the morning dawns, and day must not 
 find us in this heretic den." 
 
 Regina hesitated. 
 
 "Swear," said she, "that yoa are innocent of 
 Dorthe's death!" 
 
 "I swear it," exclaimed the Jesuit," by this 
 cross and by the holy Loyola's bones. May the 
 firm ground open under my feet, and the abyss 
 swallow me alive, if I have ever given this woman 
 any other drink than that of health and healing." 
 
 "Well," said Regina, " the saints have heard 
 your oath and written it down in the book of judg- 
 ment. Farewell, Dorthe, my friend, my mother! 
 Come, let us go! " 
 
 Both hurried out! 
 
 It was still dark. A pale streak of light ap- 
 peared over the dusky firs at the borders of Koivu- 
 koski fall. The horses stood harnessed to the 
 sleigh. The sleepy guard at the castle gates gave 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 323 
 
 free passage to the physician, whose familiar inter- 
 course with the commander was known to all. 
 
 The Jesuit believed himself already in safety, 
 when a sleigh from the mainland met the fugitives 
 on the narrow bridge, and drove close up to them 
 in the darkness. The monk's sleigh turned partly 
 upon its side, and was hindered only by the half- 
 rotten and rickety railing of the bridge from up- 
 setting into the depths below. 
 
 Regina gave a cry of affright. 
 
 At the sound, a man sprang from the other 
 sleigh and approached the fugitives. 
 
 " Regina! " cried a well-known voice, which 
 trembled from surprise. 
 
 " You are mistaken, my friend," the .Jesuit hur- 
 ried to say, in a disguised voice. " Give way to 
 Doctor Albertus Simonis, army physician in the 
 service of his royal majesty." 
 
 "Ha! it is you, miserable Jesuit!" cried the 
 stranger. "Guard, to arms! To arms, and seize 
 the greatest villain on earth! " And so saying, he 
 grasped the monk by his fur cloak. 
 
 For an instant Hieronymus tried to disengage 
 the sleigh and escape by the speed of his horses. 
 But when he found that this was impossible, he 
 left his fur cloak behind him, squirmed from his 
 enemy's grasp, and, throwing himself quickly over 
 the railing of the bridge, jumped down on the ice, 
 which, in the unusually intense cold, had formed 
 between the castle island and the mainland. In a 
 short time he had disappeared in the twilight. 
 
 The guardsman at the castle gates, attracted by 
 the cry, discharged his gun after the fugitive, but 
 without hitting him. Some of the soldiers were 
 inclined to pursue him on the ice. 
 
 "Don't do that, boys!" cried a bearded ser- 
 
334 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 geant; " it has thawed during the night, the stream 
 has out the ice underneath; I think it will break 
 up to-day." 
 
 " But he jumped down there!" cried some. 
 
 " The devil will get him," answered the ser- 
 geant, calmly, lighting his morning pipe. "I think 
 by this time he has reached Amma." 
 
 " What do you say?" exclaimed the man from 
 the other sleigh, in horror. 
 
 " I say that the old woman * has got her break- 
 fast to-day," answered the sergeant, with undis- 
 turbed composure. "Listen! she barks like a 
 chained dog; now she is satisfied." 
 
 All listened, appalled, to the din of the waters. 
 It seemed to them that the mighty fall roared more 
 wildly, more terribly than before, in the gray winter 
 twilight. The sergeant was right; it was like the 
 howl of an angry dog that has secured its prey. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 BEETEL AND BEGINA. 
 
 OUR wandering Don Quixote, whom we left, 
 worn out by the fatigue of his adventures, 
 sleeping in a peasant's cottage at YliharmS, re-ap- 
 peared at Kajana castle, engaged in the vain at- 
 tempt to secure the feared and hated Jesuit, whom 
 he had recognized through the window-pane of 
 the miserable forest hut. Bertel's circuitous course 
 during the ten or twelve days interim can easily be 
 imagined. Led by false traces in his chase after 
 
 * Tlie Finnish word Ammd means old woman. 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 325 
 
 the fugitives, he had scoured all the roads in East 
 Bothnia, as far even as Uleaborg; and it was only 
 when he there lost all track of them that he re- 
 solved, as a last resort, to seek the fugitives far 
 away in the wilderness of Kajana. Why the young 
 knight pursued them with such an indefatigable 
 perseverance, will soon be shown. 
 
 Some hours after the scene on the bridge, we 
 find Bertel in the new apartment which the gov- 
 ernor had assigned to Lady Regina, and where she 
 was under the protection of one of his female re- 
 latives. More- than three years had elapsed since 
 these two young people last met, under such differ- 
 ent circumstances, in Frankfort-on-the-Main, in the 
 presence of the great king. Bertel was then an 
 inexperienced youth of twenty, Regina an equally 
 inexperienced girl of sixteen. Both had since then 
 endured many trials; with both had the first burn- 
 ing enthusiasm of youth been cooled by trials and 
 by suffering. The distance between the prince's 
 daughter and the humble lieutenant had been 
 diminished through BertePs military fame and 
 lately acquired coat of arms; nay, at this moment, 
 she, an abandoned prisoner, might consider herself 
 honored by the attentions of a nobleman. But the 
 distance between tl},eir convictions, their sym- 
 pathies, their hearte — had this been diminished 
 through these trials, -which generally strengthen a 
 conviction instead of breaking it? 
 
 Bertel approached the young lady with all the 
 stately courtesy which the etiquette of his time 
 had retained as an inheritance from the chivalry 
 of past centuries. 
 
 " My lady," said he, in a slightly trembling 
 voice, "since my hope of finding you at Korsholm 
 failed, I have pursued you through forest and 
 
326 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 wilderness, as one pursues a criminal. Perhaps 
 you divine the cause that prompted me to do 
 so?" 
 
 Regina's long black eyelashes were slowly lifted, 
 and she regarded Bertel with an inquiring glance.. 
 
 " Sir," answered she, "whatever has prompted 
 you, I am convinced that your reasons have been 
 noble and chivalrous. You cannot have meant to 
 take an unhappy young girl back to her prison; you 
 have only wished to snatch her away from a man 
 whom the poor deceived one has regarded ever 
 since childhood as a holy and pious person, and 
 whose deeply concealed wickedness she has now 
 for the first time learned to know and detest." 
 
 "You are mistaken," said Bertel, with warmth 
 and animation. " It is true I shuddered when I 
 saw you in the company of this man, whose real 
 character I perceived before you, and I then re- 
 doubled my efforts to rescue you from his hands. 
 But before I imagined any danger from that di- 
 rection, I hastened to find you with the glad tid- 
 ings of a deed of justice . . . late, but I hope not 
 too late." 
 
 " A deed of justice, you say?" repeated Re- 
 gina, with a surprise which drove the blood to her 
 cheeks. " ^ 
 
 "Yes, my lady," continued Bertel, regarding in 
 amazement this picture of dazzling beauty, "at 
 last, after several years of vain effort, I have suc- 
 ceeded in obtaining this deed of justice toward aix 
 innocent sufferer. You are free; you can now, un- 
 der the protection of the Swedish arms, return to 
 your fatherland; and here — "at these words Bertel 
 bent his knee and handed Regina a paper with the 
 regency's seal — "hei'e is the document which in- 
 sures your freedom." 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 327 
 
 Regina had overcome her first emotion, and re- 
 eived the precious document with cool dignity. 
 
 " Sir," said she, in short and measured tones, 
 I know that you do not ask my thanks for having, 
 eyond any of your countrymen, acted like a man 
 f honor." 
 
 Bertel arose, a little surprised at this pride, 
 rhich however he ought to have expected. 
 
 " What I have done," said he, with a touch of 
 oldness in his turn, " I have done only to efface 
 n act of injustice which might have thrown a 
 hadow upon the memory of a great king. Each 
 ne of my countrymen would have done the same 
 s I, had not the exigencies of war made him for- 
 ;et the reparation you had a right to demand, 
 i'irst of all would the noble-minded King Gustaf 
 ^dolf have sought to make amends for the hasty 
 leed of a moment's indiscretion, had not Providence 
 o suddenly cut short his days. . . . But," said Ber- 
 el, interrupting himself, "I forget that the king 
 ?hom I love and admire, you hate!" 
 
 At these words the bright and beautiful color 
 gain rose to Regina's cheeks. Without knowing 
 t, Bertel had touched one of the most sensitive 
 hords in this ardent heart. A new discovery — a 
 wonderful resemblance in figure, voice, gesture, 
 iay, in thought, a resemblance which she had never 
 lefore observed, and which these three years had 
 ieveloped in Bertel's whole personality — made an 
 ndescribable impression upon the young South- 
 rner's soul. It seemed to her that she saw him 
 iimself, the greatest of mortals, the pride of her 
 [reams, her life's happiness and misery; him, the 
 leloved and feared, the conqueror of her country, 
 er faith, and her heart . . . and that he himself 
 
328 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 said to her, in the well-known tones: "Reginayou 
 hate me." 
 
 This impression came so swiftly, so strongly, and 
 with such a surprising power, that Regina suddenly 
 grew pale, staggered, and was compelled to lean 
 on Bertel's outstretched arm. 
 
 "Holy Virgin!" whispered she, bewildered, 
 and not knowing what she said, " should I hate 
 you . . . you whom I ..." 
 
 Bertel caught this half-unspoken word, incom- 
 prehensible and yet so full of meaning, with a 
 surprise as sudden and unexpected as Regina's. 
 Beside himself with amazement, fear, and hope, he 
 was still too chivalric to avail himself of so invol- 
 untary a confession. Mute and respectful, he led 
 the young girl to her protector, in whose care she 
 soon recovered from her sudden faiiitness — an 
 effect of long-suppressed emotions, which now 
 sought relief. 
 
 Bertel had obtained the commission to escort 
 Lady Regina von Emmeritz to Stockholm, from 
 whence she could, at the opening of navigation, 
 return to her fatherland. He was therefore at 
 liberty to remain at Kajana Castle until his cjiarge 
 should be ready for the journey; and this event 
 was again delayed through the unforeseen lack of a 
 fitting female companion for the high-born pris- 
 oner. 
 
 Weeks passed in the waiting, and during this 
 time entirely new relations were formed, which one 
 could scarcely have surmised from Regina's proud 
 coldness toward her deliverer. Ah! this coldness 
 was the ice over a glowing volcano; every day it 
 grew thinner, and melted; every day Regina's 
 pride became haughtier, while its foundations 
 gradually gave way; and at last there remained 
 
FIRE AMD WATER. 339 
 
 Illy one barrier — the strongest one of all, it is 
 rue — the bitter struggle of religious convictions, 
 ^ain wall! It, too, finally crumbled before the fire 
 f a Southern passion; and ere three weeks were 
 nded, the girl of nineteen and the youth of 
 wenty-three had forgotten all dilferences of faith 
 nd rank, and sworn each other fidelity for life. 
 )id Bertel know tliat he had to thank the memory 
 if Gustaf Adolf for his beautiful, his proud, his 
 ilack-eyed bride? 
 
 A singular destiny waited to seal this union in 
 ,n unexpected and wonderful manner. With a 
 ecret anxiety for his happiness, Bertel had in vain 
 ried to discover the fate of the Jesuit. Since the 
 norning when the monk jumped over the railing 
 if the bridge, no one had heard or seen anything 
 if him, until, three weeks afterwards, a peasant 
 eported that on opening the ice a little below 
 i.mma fall, they had found the body of a man 
 nthout ears, clothed in foreign garments, which 
 he peasant brought with him, and which were 
 ecognized as those of Father Hieronymus. In 
 ddition, the honest Paldamo peasant produced a 
 ittle copper ring which had been found hanging 
 ly a cord around the dead man's neck. 
 
 Bertel looked at this ring with amazement and 
 
 "At last I have you! " exclaimed he, "this ring 
 rhich I have so long lost . . . and with you 
 he certainty of the death of this formidable man." 
 
 " The judgment of the saints upon the per- 
 urer! " exclaimed Regina, awe-stricken. 
 
 "The judgment of the saints, which confirms 
 ur happiness!" rejoined Bertel, and placed on 
 legina's finger the King's Ring. 
 14* 
 
330 TIMES OF GUSTAF^ ADOLF. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE king's ring. THE SWORD AND THE PLOUGH. 
 
 PIKE AND WATER. 
 
 ONCE more we return to Storkyro, to Bertila's- 
 farm, and to the old peasant-king. 
 It is a wintry day in March, 1635. The snow 
 already feels the influence of the spring sun,^and 
 drips from the roofs upon the sunny side; the icy 
 crust upon the northern slope of the hills is firm 
 and unyielding, but breaks on the southern side. 
 Aaron Bertila is just returning from church, with 
 all his people; his gray head is bowed; he leans on 
 Meri's arm. At his side walk two precious looking 
 thick-set figures — the old Larsson, and his lately 
 returned son, the brave and learned captain of the 
 same name, the faithful image of his little father, 
 except in years. Walking beside him is his young 
 wife, a pretty and light-hearted little creature, whose 
 features we recognize. She is none other than 
 Katchen, the plucky and merry girl, whose soft 
 hand once made the noble captain lose his wits. 
 After that day he swore by all the Greek and 
 Roman authors, whom he formerly read in Abo 
 Cathedral School — sic unde ubi apud unquam post, 
 as the ancients used to express themselves — that 
 the soft-handed novice among the Wiirtzburg sis- 
 ters of charity should one day-become his. And 
 when the vicissitudes of war again brought them 
 together, when KStchen was without protection, 
 and, besides, had nothing against an honest and 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 331 
 
 Dvial soldier, this cheerful and contented pair were 
 redded in due form in the autumn, at Stralsund, 
 nd then went to visit their round-bodied good- 
 earted father in Storkyro, where they were warmly 
 relcomed, and received as children. 
 
 It must be added that Larsson had quit the ser- 
 ice, and after much higgling obtained his discharge, 
 lut without promotion. He complained that 
 le had not a farthing left from the spoils of Ger- 
 aany, though so many of his fellow-soldiers had. 
 yi that he had earned — and if we can believe him, 
 t must have been millions — had taken wings; 
 rhere? At Nbrdlingen, he says. Certainly: in 
 evels and sprees with jolly fellows of the same 
 lalibre as himself. But now he meant to be as 
 egular and steady as a gate-post; to succeed his 
 ather as overseer of Bertila's large farms; to 
 jlough, sow, harvest, a,nd pro modulo virium pro- 
 em copiosam,in lucem,proferre, as the ancients so 
 ruly expressed themselves. 
 
 Old Bertila treats him with apparent favor. 
 Jignificant words have escaped the old man, and 
 le has just delivered his will into the hands of the 
 udge. 
 
 As for Meri, she has withered like a flower 
 without roots, and clings to life only by her feeble 
 leart-thread — the banished and rejected Gustaf 
 3ertel, now ennobled to Bertelshold. 
 
 This domestic circle, composed of such different 
 ilements, both shadowy and bright, is now 
 fathered in the large room, surrounded by the nu- 
 nerous laborers; and old Larsson still tries, in secret 
 lliance with Meri, to soften the mind of the stern 
 leasant-king toward Bertel. All their prayers and 
 easons are stranded against the unbending firm- 
 less of the old man. Larsson turns away angrily; 
 
33a TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 Meri conceals her tears iu the darkest shadows of 
 the room. 
 
 Then is heard again the tinkling of sleigh- 
 bells outside, as on Epiphany evening; a large 
 sleigh stops in the yard, and two persons alight 
 from it: an officer in his large cloak, and a young 
 beautiful woman in a magnificent mantle of black 
 velvet lined with costly fur. Meri and old Larsson 
 turn pale at this sight; Larsson hastens out, but it 
 is too late. Bertel and Regina enter the room. 
 
 Both the Larssons and Meri surround Bertel, 
 with warm although apparently embarrassed greet- 
 ings. Katchen jumps up, and, without thinking of 
 the difference between her burgher dress and the 
 costly velvet cloak, throws herself into Regina's 
 arms, who, with emotion, clasps to her heart the 
 faithful friend of her childhood. 
 
 Bertel frees himself gently from Meri's embrace, 
 and goes with a firm step straight up to old Ber- 
 tila, who, mute and cold in his high-backed chair 
 at the end of the table, does not honor him with a 
 word or a glance. 
 
 All present await with dismayed looks the result 
 of this meeting, which they all know must be 
 decisive. The young officer has removed his cloak 
 and hat; his long fair hair falls in beautiful curls 
 around his open brow; his cheeks are very pale, 
 but the blue and expressive eyes regard the iron- 
 hard features of the gray-haired man with a firm 
 and steadfast gaze. 
 
 Bertel now, as before, bends his knee, and says, 
 in a voice at once humble and steadv: 
 
 "My father!" 
 
 "Who are you? I know you not; I have no 
 son! " interrupted the old man, in chilling tones. 
 
 "My father!" continued Bertel, without allow- 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 333 
 
 ng himself to be discomfited, " 1 come once more, 
 ind for the last time, to ask your forgiveness and 
 )le£sing. Do not repulse me! I leave my father- 
 and, to fight and perhaps die on German soil. It 
 lepends upon you whether I ever return. Re- 
 nember, my fathei^ that your blessing restores to 
 'ou a son ; that your curse drives him into exile 
 orever." 
 
 The old man in the high-backed chair does not 
 ihange a feature, but his voice betrays an inward 
 itruggle. 
 
 " My answer is brief," said he. " I had a son; 
 le became unworthy of me and all the principles 
 vhioh have governed my life. He abandoned the 
 lause of the people, for that of the pernicious 
 )ower of the nobility, which I hate and detest. I 
 lave no longer a son. I have to-day disinherited 
 lira." 
 
 The faces of the hearers turn pale at these 
 yords. But Bertel colors slightly, and says: 
 
 " My father, I do not ask your property. Give 
 b to whomsoever you consider more worthy than I. 
 ask only your forgiveness . . . your bless- 
 ng, my father." 
 
 All except Regina surround the old man, fall 
 n their knees, and exclaim: "Grace for Bertel! 
 irrace for your son ! " 
 
 " And if I had a son, do you believe he would 
 Dr my sake give up his false ambition for the dis- 
 inctions of nobility? Do you believe that he 
 rould become a peasant like me, a man of the 
 eople like me, ready to live and die for their 
 ause? Do you believe that he, with his fine 
 loved hands, would plough the earth and would 
 hoose a wife from my station, a simple and honest 
 
334 TIMES OP GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 woman, as becomes a true man, without parade 
 and boasting?" 
 
 " My father," says Bertel, in a voice more trem- 
 ulous than before, " what you ask has been made 
 impossible by the education you yourself have 
 given me. I will honor and respect your station; 
 but I have been bred to the career of a soldier, and 
 that I will not, I cannot abandon. To choose a 
 wife according to your mind, is equally impossible. 
 Here stands my mate; she is a prince's daughter, my 
 father, but she has not blushed to choose a peas- 
 ant's son for her husband; let this be a proof that 
 she will not blush to call you father." 
 
 At these words, Regina approaches humbly, as 
 if to kiss the old man's hand; and all except Bertel 
 and^ his father rise. But the fiery temper of Ber- 
 tila, the peasant king, flames forth in anger. 
 
 " Did I not say so!" exclaims he, in thundering 
 tones. " There stands the renegade who was born a 
 free peasant and became a servant of lords! Ha! 
 by Grod! I have in my day seen much strife and 
 much defiance between the sword and the plough; 
 but a defiance like this I have never seen. The 
 boy who calls himself my son dares to bring before 
 my eyes his high-born harlot and call her his wife." 
 
 Bertel springs up and supports Regina, who at 
 these words almost sinks to the floor. 
 
 "Old man," says he, in a voice trembling with 
 anger, " thank your name of father and your gray 
 head that you have been allowed to utter what no 
 one else could have uttered, and lived an hour 
 thereafter. Here is the ring I placed on the hand 
 of my lawfully wedded wife," — at these words he 
 takes from Regina's finger the king's ring — " and 
 I swear that her hand is as pure and as worthy as 
 that of any mortal to wear this ring, which for so 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 335 
 
 aany years has been worn upon the finger of the 
 ;reatest king." 
 
 Meri's eyes stare at the ring; her pale cheeks 
 ,re colored by a deep flush; she struggles violently 
 nth herself. Finally she steps nearer, presses the 
 ing with ecstaoy to her lips, and says, in a broken 
 oice, and with an emotion so strong that it dries 
 ivery tear in her eyes: 
 
 " My ring which he has worn . . . my ring 
 yhich has protected him . , . thou art inno- 
 ent of his death; he gave thee away, and then 
 ame the bullets, then came death. Do you know, 
 Tustaf Bertel, and you, his wife, the real power of 
 his ring? In my youth I went one day into the 
 nlderness, and found there a dying man, who was 
 anguishing from thirst. I gave him drink from 
 he spring; I refreshed his tongue with the juice 
 if berries. He thanked me, and said: ' My friend, 
 am dying, and have no other reward to offer you 
 han this ring. I found it on an image of the 
 loly Virgin, which alone was left uninjured in the 
 nidst of the broken emblems of Popish rites, in 
 storkyro church; and when 1 took the ring from 
 he finger of the Virgin, the image fell to dust. 
 This ring has at once the power of the saints and 
 )f magic, for^ with me the ancient greatness of 
 orcery descends into the grave.' He who wears 
 his ring is secure against fire, water, steel, and all 
 dnds of dangers, on the sole condition that he 
 lever swears a false oath, for that annuls the power 
 if 'the ring; with this ring goes happiness in peace, 
 .nd victory in war: love, honor, and fortune; and 
 srhen it is worn by three generations successively 
 rom father to son, then from that family shall come 
 irilliant generals and statesmen . . ." 
 
336 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 Here Meri paused; all listened with intense 
 expectation. 
 
 " But," continued she, " if the ring is worn by 
 six succeeding generations, then shall spring from 
 that family a powerful dynasty. ' But,' said the 
 old man to me, ' you ought to know that great gifts 
 are accompanied by great dangers. False oaths 
 and family enmity will constantly tempt the pos- 
 sessor of the ring, and seek to neutralize its power; 
 pride and inordinate ambition will continually 
 work within his breast to prepare his fall; and a 
 great steadfastness 'of soul will be required, joined 
 with a meek and humble heart, to overcome these 
 temptations. He who possesses and wears this 
 ring shall enjoy all happiness in this world, and 
 only have to conquer himself; but he will also be 
 the most formidable enemy of his own happiness. 
 All this is signified by the three letters, H. R. H., 
 which are engraved on the inside of the ring, and 
 interpreted by these words: Hex Megi Hebellis — 
 the king rebels against the king; the happiest, the 
 mightiest among men, has to fear the greatest 
 danger within his own breast.' " 
 
 " And this ring, O Regina, is ours! " exclaimed 
 Bertel, with mingled fear and joy. " What a 
 wealth and what a responsibility go with this 
 ring! " 
 
 " Beware, my daughter!" said Meri, sadly. 
 " Behind these words lurks the greatest danger of 
 the ring." 
 
 The old Bertila regarded the ring and.the 
 young people with a contemptuous smile: 
 
 "False gold!" said he. "Vanity! Useless or- 
 nament! False ambition! This is a gift worthy to 
 descend from generation to generation among the 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 337 
 
 lobility. Come, young Larsson, you, who are also 
 tf peasant origin and who wish to return to your 
 tation, although you have been a soldier, — I will 
 five you something which is neither gold nor use- 
 ess ornament, but which will perhaps bring you 
 nore blessings than all the kings' rings in the 
 yorld. Take my old axe with the oak handle 
 rom the wall there; yes, fear not, there is no 
 nagic in that; my father forged it with his own 
 land, in Gustaf Wasa's time. With it, my father 
 ,nd I have done great deeds in the forests, and 
 leared many a field. May it descend through 
 ■our family; and I promise you that he who pos- 
 esses my axe shall be blessed with happiness and 
 ontentment in his honest labor." 
 
 "Thanks, Father Bertila," answered the eap- 
 ain gleefully, as with an air of importance he 
 ried the edge of the old axe. " If we took a fancy 
 o engrave any inscription on it, I should propose 
 ?. R. B., Ruris Rusticus Robustus, which is to 
 ay briefly. 'The devil cannot disturb such a pow- 
 rful chopper! ' a very beautiful and thoughtful 
 aying among the ancients." 
 
 The elder Larsson now thought the oppor- 
 unity at hand to give the bitter contest a more 
 ilacable turn. He stepped up to old Bertila, lead- 
 ig by the hand the two newly married couples, 
 nd said: 
 
 " Dear old friend, let us not meddle in the 
 jord's business. Your boy and mine are both 
 reat rascals, that is granted; but are they to blame 
 bat our Lord created one of them of fire and the 
 ther of water? Bertel is like a flame — burning 
 ot, high-soaring, brilliant, transitory, and I wager 
 jat his little wife is of the same sort. My boy, 
 ere is of the purest water . . ." 
 W 15 
 
338 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 "Stop!" cried the captain. " Water has never 
 been my weak point!" 
 
 " Hold your tongue ; my boy is clear water — flow- 
 ing and unstable, contentedly keeping itself to the 
 ground, and created especially to put out the other 
 youngster's poetic blaze with its prosaic philosophy. 
 As for his wife, she is of the same stuff. Do you 
 not see, Bertila, that our Lord has intended the 
 boys to be friends? — the fire to warm the water, 
 and the water to quench the fire; and you would 
 make them enemies by taking from one and giv- 
 ing to the other. No, my friend, do not do it, that 
 is my advice; give your son what belongs to him; 
 my son shall not want it." 
 
 Old Bertila remained silent a moment. Then 
 he said, vehemently: 
 
 "Do not teach me the meaning of the Lord! 
 Can you believe that he, the newly-baked noble- 
 man, whom you compare to the fire, could be in- 
 duced to give away the ring and take the axe in its 
 stead?" 
 
 " Never!" exclaimed Bertel, excitedly. 
 
 Meri seized his hand, and looked at him be- 
 seechingly. " Give away the ring," said she. 
 "You know some of its dangers; but. there is still 
 one which I have feared to mention. All who wear 
 this ring shall die a violent death." 
 
 " What matters it?" exclaimed Bertel. "The 
 death of the soldier on the battle-field is beautiful 
 and glorious. I ask no better." 
 
 "Listen to him!" said old Bertila, contempt- 
 uously. "I expected it: he runs after fame, even 
 to the grave. A pteaceful death, like a peaceful 
 life, is to him an abomination; but you, Larsson, 
 tell me, have vou a desire to give away the axe and 
 take the ring?" 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 339 
 
 "Hm!" replied the captain, thoughtfully, "if 
 ;he ring were of gold, I might sell it in town and 
 jet a good cask of ale for it. But as it is only of 
 !opper . . . pshaw, I let it go and keep the axe, 
 /vhich is at least good to cut wood with." 
 
 "Good!" continued Bertila; "it is, as your 
 "ather said, to sprinkle water on fire. It is not I 
 vho have made fire and water eternal enemies to 
 iach other. Gome, Larsson — you, the man of 
 iound common-sense, the man of tangible things, — 
 some, be my son, and some day take my goods 
 vhen I am no longer among the living. My bless- 
 ng be with you and your descendants. May they 
 nultiply, and work like ants in the soil, and may there 
 )e an eternal enmity between them and those in high 
 jlaces, the nobility, the people with the fiery dis- 
 )ositions. May there be war and no peace between 
 :heni and you, until this useless glitter disappears 
 'rom human society. May the axe and the ring 
 ive in open feud until both are melted in the same 
 leat. When this occurs, after a hundred years, or 
 nore, then it will be time to say, class distinctions 
 lave seen their last days, and a man's merit is his 
 )nly coat of arms." 
 
 " But, my father," exclaimed Bertel once more, 
 n an entreating voice, " have you then no blessing 
 ;o give me and my posterity, at the moment when 
 ve separate forever?" 
 
 "You!" repeated the old man, still in the tones 
 >f anger. " Go,youlost, vain, worm-eaten branches 
 )f the people's great trunk, go in your pitiful 
 )arade to your certain ruin. Until the day when, 
 ,s I said, the axe and the ring, the false gold and 
 he honest steel, melt together. . . . until then I 
 five you my curse as an inheritance, even unto the 
 
340 TIMES OF GUSTAF ADOLF. 
 
 tenth generation; and with it shall follow dissen- 
 sion, hatred, strife, and finally a pitiful fall." 
 
 "Stop a little. Father Bertila! " cried young 
 Larsson. " Grace for Bertel!" 
 
 " No grace for nobility!" answered the peasant- 
 king. 
 
 " Beware, unnatural father!" cried old Larsson. 
 " The doom may fall upon your own head." 
 
 " I no longer ask any grace," said Bertel, pale, 
 but calm. ," Farewell, you who were once my 
 father! Farewell, my fatherland! I go, never to 
 see you again!" 
 
 "One moment more," interrupted Meri, who 
 with great effort and in violent emotion placed her- 
 self in his way. " You go! Yes, go . . . my 
 heart's darling, my hope, my life, my all . . . go, 
 I shall no longer stand in your way. But before 
 you leave me, you shall take with you the secret 
 which has been at once my life's highest bliss and 
 greatest agony . . ." 
 
 "Hear her not!" cried old Bertila, with a 
 changed voice and in evident alarm. "Listen not 
 to her; madness speaks from her lips! . . . Think 
 of your honor and mine!" whispered he, sternly, 
 in the pale daughter's ear. 
 
 "What do I care for your honor and mine!" 
 burst out Meri, with an impetuosity never before 
 shown. " Do you not see that he goes . . . my 
 life's joy leaves me, never more to return ? He goes ; 
 and you, hard, inhuman father, wish me to let him 
 depart with a curse to foreign lands. But thus he 
 shall not go. For every curse you fling upon his 
 head, I will give him a hundred blessings; ahd we 
 shall see which will avail the most before the 
 throne of the Highest — ^your hatred or my love, the 
 
FIRE AND WATER. 341 
 
 urse of the grandfather, or the blessing of the 
 lother . . ." 
 
 "My mother!" exclaimed Bertel, beside him- 
 elf with surprise. Duke Bernh'ard's enigmatical 
 rards now suddenly became clear to him. 
 
 " Believe her not; she knows not what she says!" 
 xclaimed old Bertila, vainly trying to appear calm. 
 
 Meri had sunk in Bertel's arms. 
 
 " It is now said," whispered she, in a failing 
 oice. "Gustaf . . . my son. Ah! it is so strange 
 ,nd so sweet to call you this. Now you know the 
 ecret of my life; . . . and I have not long to 
 ilush over it. Do you love me? . . . Yes, yes! 
 low I go from life gladly . . . the veil is lifted 
 . . light comes. . . . My father ... I for- 
 ;ive you . . . that you have hated and cursed 
 our daughter's son. . . . Forgive me . . . that 
 . . . love . . . bless . . . my son ! " 
 
 "My mother!" exclaimed Bertel, "hear me, 
 ay mother! 1 thank you ... I love you! . . . 
 lo\x shall go with me, and I will never leave you. 
 )h, you do not hear me. You are so pale . . . 
 Treat God . . . she is dead!" 
 
 "My daughter! my only child!" exclaimed 
 Bertila, the iron-hearted peasant-king, annihilated. 
 
 "Judge not, lest ye be judged!" said old Lars- 
 on, with clasped hands. " And you, our children, 
 ;o out into life with peaceful hearts. Curse and 
 ilessing struggle for your future, and not only for 
 ours, but for that of your posterity, unto the tenth 
 ;eneration. Pray to Heaven that the blessing may 
 onquer!" 
 
 "Amen ! " said young Larsson and Katchen. 
 
 " Amen ! " said Bertel and Regina. 
 
 END OF FIKST CYCLE. 
 
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