But nothing could soothe the ruffled temper of the enemies of Reform. The archbishop, who had once more become a real Roman Catholic (_un vrai Romain_), was continually stirring up his subordinates against the king. Brask did the same, and other prelates went greater lengths. The bishop and the provost of Westeraas, Sunnanwaeder, and Knut, instigated the peasants of Dalecarlia to revolt; and the latter, with threats, demanded of the king the banishment of the Lutheran faith from the kingdom. Gustavus reminded them of the calamities which the Roman clergy had brought on Sweden, adding that it was the duty of a king to shake off a yoke so burdensome. But the Dalecarlians, who were easily excited, were rude mountaineers who feared neither heat nor cold, were skilled in handling arms, and were equally content with sword and plough, peace and war, life and death.[439] In 1526 they refused to pay the taxes, and in a short time they did more. [Sidenote: A Pretender.] At the beginning of 1527, there appeared in the remotest parishes of their country a young man calling himself Nils Sture, who stated that he was the eldest son of the deceased administrator, and that he had left Stockholm in order to escape from a heretical prince, who could not endure at his court the presence of the legitimate heir of the kingdom. ‘As soon as Gustavus perceived me,’ he added, ‘he cast a fierce glance at me, drew his sword, and attempted to take away my life. Is this the recompense due to the merits of my father, who lost his life to save Sweden?’ Saying these words he burst into tears, fell on his knees, and begged the good peasants who stood round him to say with him a _paternoster_ to deliver the soul of the prince his father out of purgatory. The young man was handsome in person, and could speak well, so that the Dalecarlians as they listened to him mingled their tears with his. To his pathetic appeals he added terrible accusations. ‘Gustavus,’ said he, ‘has not only laid aside the national dress, but he intends also to compel the Swedes to dress in the new fashion.’ This the Dalecarlians would have esteemed a disgrace. The pretended Nils Sture had soon a large following, for the Romish system was greatly reverenced, and the name of Sture was held in high honor among the Dalecarlians. The archbishop of Drontheim declared in his favor, and the partisans of Rome hailed the young man as a Maccabæus who was going to raise up again the altars of the true God. The pretender surrounded himself with a body guard, formed a court, elected a chancellor, and coined money. This person, the hope of the sinking papacy, was in reality a farm servant from Bjoerksta in Westmanland, an illegitimate son of a female servant. He had served in several families of the gentry, and had thus acquired a certain skilfulness. He was trained for the part he had to play by Peder Grym, a man who was formerly in the service of Sten Sture, and who had become the confidential attendant of