The Lion of the North: A Tale of the Times of Gustavus Adolphus — John Shaqi
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
It stood near the head of the valley, which was here free of trees,
and some cultivated fields lay around it. The houses were surrounded
by fruit trees, and an air of peace and tranquillity prevailed such as
Malcolm had not seen before since he left his native country. One house
was much larger than the rest; several stacks stood in the rick yard,
and the large stables and barns gave a proof of the prosperity of its
owner. The war which had already devastated a great part of Germany had
passed by this secluded hamlet.
No signs of work were to be seen, the village was as still and quiet as
if it was deserted. Suddenly Malcolm remembered that it was the Sabbath,
which, though always kept strictly by the Scotch and Swedish soldiers
when in camp, for the most part passed unobserved when they were engaged
in active service. Malcolm turned his steps towards the house; as he
neared it he heard the sound of singing within. The door was open, and
he entered and found himself on the threshold of a large apartment in
which some twenty men and twice as many women and children were standing
singing a hymn which was led by a venerable pastor who stood at the head
of the room, with a powerfully built elderly man, evidently the master
of the house, near him.
The singing was not interrupted by the entrance of the newcomer. Many
eyes were cast in his direction, but seeing that their leaders went on
unmoved, the little congregation continued their hymn with great fervour
and force. When they had done the pastor prayed for some time, and then
dismissed the congregation with his blessing. They filed out in a quiet
and orderly way, but not until the last had left did the master of the
house show any sign of observing Malcolm, who had taken his place near
the door.
Then he said gravely, “Strangers do not often find their way to Glogau,
and in truth we can do without them, for a stranger in these times too
often means a foe; but you are young, my lad, though strong enough to
bear weapons, and can mean us no ill. What is it that brings you to our
quiet village?”
“I have, sir, but this morning escaped from the hands of the freebooters
at Wolfsburg, and I come to warn you that last night I heard them agree
to attack and sack your village tomorrow; therefore, before pursuing my
own way, which is to the camp of the Swedish king, in whose service I
am, I came hither to warn you of their intention.”
Exclamations of alarm arose from the females of the farmer's family, who
were sitting at the end of the room. The farmer waved his hand and the
women were instantly silent.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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