Let us turn for a moment to another scene. Sture, who had been carried bleeding from the field of battle, had been taken first to Örebro. But the journey over the ice and snow at the dead of winter so aggravated his wound that it was clear to all he could take no further part in carrying on the war. He gave orders therefore to be removed to Stockholm, where he might be under the tender care and sympathy of his wife. It was God's will, however, that he should never see her more. On the 2d of February, when almost within sight of the castle walls, he died; and the loved one for whose sympathy he had longed was given nothing but her husband's lifeless corpse.[39] They buried of him all that earth could bury; but his undaunted spirit remained still among his people, cheering them in their misfortunes, and ever calling upon them to resist the hand of the oppressor. Sten Sture's character is one which draws forth a warmth of sentiment such as can be felt for no other character of his time. Living in an age when hypocrisy was looked upon with honor, and when falsehood was deemed a vice only when unsuccessful, he showed in all his dealings, whether with friends or foes, a steadfast integrity of purpose with an utter ignorance of the art of dissimulation. Not a stain can history fix upon his memory. Highly gifted as a statesman, courageous on the field of battle, ever courteous in diplomacy, and warm and sympathetic in the bosom of his family, his figure stands forth as one of the shining examples of the height to which human character can attain. It is with a sigh we leave him, and turn again to trace the history of his people.