The Lion of the North: A Tale of the Times of Gustavus AdolphusHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
History
The Lion of the North: A Tale of the Times of Gustavus Adolphus
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Gustav II Adolf, King of Sweden, 1594-1632 -- Fiction; Thirty Years' War, 1618-1648 -- Fiction
On his return to the platform Malcolm found, looking over the low
parapet, that on the side farthest from the church great icicles hung
down from the mouth of the gutter, the water having frozen again as it
trickled from the platform. These icicles were three or four inches in
diameter and many feet in length. They were carefully broken off, and
were laid down on the platform where they would remain frozen until
wanted. Malcolm now felt secure against the attacks of thirst for
some days to come. The stones of the parapet were next tried, and were
without much trouble moved from their places, and were all carried to
the side in which the door was situated, in readiness to hurl down upon
any who might assault it. Some of the beams of the upper flooring were
removed from their places, and being carried down, were wedged against
the upper part of the door, securing it as firmly as did the stones
below. These preparations being finished, Malcolm took a survey of the
situation outside.
The group of peasants had increased largely, some thirty or forty men
armed with pikes, bills, and scythes being gathered in a body, while
many more could be seen across the country hurrying over the white plain
towards the spot. The windows of the lower apartment had been barricaded
with planks, partly to keep out missiles, partly for warmth. A good fire
now blazed in the centre, and the soldiers, confident in themselves and
their leader, cracked grim jokes as, their work being finished, they sat
down around it and awaited the attack, one of their number being placed
on the summit of the tower to give warning of the approach of the enemy.
“I would that we had a musket or two,” Malcolm said; “for we might then
keep them from the door. I have only some twenty charges for my pistols,
and the most of these, at any rate, I must keep for the defence of the
stairs.”
Presently the sentry from above called out that the peasants were moving
forward to the attack.
“Sergeant,” Malcolm said, “do you fasten my green scarf to a long strip
of plank and fix it to the top of the tower. We cannot fight under
a better banner. Now let us mount to the roof and give them a warm
reception.”
“Look out, sir,” the sentry exclaimed as Malcolm ascended the stair,
“three or four of them have got muskets.”
“Then we must be careful,” Malcolm said. “I don't suppose they are much
of marksmen, but even a random shot will tell at times, and I want to
take you all back safe with me; so keep low when you get on the roof,
lads, and don't show your heads more than you can help.”
Heralding their attack by a discharge from their muskets, whose balls
whistled harmlessly round the tower, the peasants rushed forward to the
door and commenced an assault upon it with hatchets and axes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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