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
“I shall take my wife to her mother,” the peasant said, “and leave
her there. I hope God will take her soon, and then I will go and take
service under the Swedish king, and will slay till I am slain. I would
kill myself now, but that I would fain avenge my wife and child on some
of these murderers of Tilly's before I die.”
Malcolm felt that the case was far beyond any attempt at consolation.
“If you come to the Swedish army ask for Ensign Malcolm Graheme of
Reay's Scottish regiment, and I will take you to one of the German
corps, where you will understand the language of your comrades.” So
saying he turned from the bloodstained village and continued his way.
CHAPTER V MARAUDERS
Malcolm had brought with him from Tilly's camp a supply of provisions
sufficient for three or four days, and a flask of wine. Before he
started from New Brandenburg the syndic had slipped into his band a
purse containing ten gold pieces, and whenever he came to a village
which had escaped the ravages of the war he had no difficulty in
obtaining provisions.
It was pitiable at each place to see the anxiety with which the
villagers crowded round him upon his arrival and questioned him as to
the position of the armies and whether he had met with any parties
of raiders on the way. Everywhere the cattle had been driven into the
woods; boys were posted as lookouts on eminences at a distance to bring
in word should any body of men be seen moving in that direction; and the
inhabitants were prepared to fly instantly at the approach of danger.
The news that Tilly's army was marching in the opposite direction was
received with a deep sense of thankfulness and relief, for they were
now assured of a respite from his plunderers, although still exposed to
danger from the arrival of some of the numerous bands. These, nominally
fighting for one or other of the parties, were in truth nothing but
marauders, being composed of deserters and desperadoes of all kinds, who
lived upon the misfortunes of the country, and were even more cruel and
pitiless than were the regular troops.
At one of these villages Malcolm exchanged his attire as a serving man
of a rich burgher for that of a peasant lad. He was in ignorance of the
present position of the Swedish army, and was making for the intrenched
camp of Schwedt, on the Oder, which Gustavus had not left when he had
last heard of him.
On the fourth day after leaving the camp of Tilly, as Malcolm was
proceeding across a bare and desolate country he heard a sound of
galloping behind him, and saw a party of six rough looking horsemen
coming along the road. As flight would have been useless he continued
his way until they overtook him. They reined up when they reached him.
“Where are you going, boy, and where do you belong to?” the leader of
the party asked.
“I am going in search of work,” Malcolm answered. “My village is
destroyed and my parents killed.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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