CHAPTER IV.
THE FIRE ALIGHT.
I laughed at my own fears when the morning came, and showed no changeexcept that cheerful one, which our guest's presence had worked insidethe castle. Below, today was as yesterday. The sun shone as brightlyon the roofs, the smoke of the chimneys rose as peacefully in the air;the swallows circling round the eaves swung this way and that asswiftly and noiselessly as of old. The common sounds of everyday life,the clank of the pump in the market-place as the old crones drewwater, and the cry of the wood-cutter hawking his stuff, alone brokethe stillness. I sniffed the air, and smiling at Fraulein Anna'swarning, went back into the house, where any fears which yet lingeredin my mind took instant flight at sound of the Waldgrave's voice, socheerful was it, so full of life and strength and confidence.
I do not know what it was in him, but something there was whichcarried us all the way he wished us to go. Did he laugh at the thoughtof danger; straightway we laughed too, and this though I knewHeritzburg and he did not. Did he speak scornfully of the burghers;forthwith they seemed to us a petty lot. When he strode up and downthe terrace, showing us how a single gun placed here or there, or inthe corner, would in an hour reduce the town; on the instant we deemedhim a Tilly. When he dubbed Hofman and Dietz, 'Old Fat and Lean,' thegroom-boys, who could not be kept from his heels, sniggered, and hadto be whipped back to the stables. In a word, he won us all. Hisyouth, his gaiety, his confidence, were irresistible.
He dared even to scold my lady, saying that she had cosseted thetownsfolk and brought this trouble on herself by pleasuring them; andshe, who seemed to us the proudest of the proud, took it meekly,laughing in his face. It required no conjuror to perceive that headmired her, and would fain shine in her presence. That was to beexpected. But about my mistress I was less certain, until afterbreakfast nothing would suit her but an immediate excursion to theWhite Maiden--the great grey spire which stands on the summit of theOberwald. Then I knew that she had it in her mind to make the bestfigure she could; for though she talked of showing him game in thatdirection, and there was a grand parade of taking dogs, all the worldknows that the other side of the valley is the better hunting-ground.I was left to guess that the White Maiden was chosen because all thewide Heritzburg land can be seen from its foot, and not corn andwoodland, pasture and meadow only, but the gem of all--the townnestling babelike in the lap of the valley, with the grey towersrising like the face of some harsh nurse above it.
My lord jumped at the plan. Doubtless he liked the prospect of a ridethrough the forest by her side. When she raised some little demur,stepping in the way of her own proposal, as I have noticed women will,and said something about the safety of the castle, if so many left it,he cried out eagerly that she need not fear.
'I will leave my people,' he said. 'Then you will feel quite sure thatthe place is safe. I will answer for them that they will hold yourcastle against Wallenstein himself.'
'But how many are with you?' my lady asked curiously; a little inmischief too, perhaps, for I think she knew.
His handsome face reddened and he looked rather foolish for a moment.'Well, only four, as a fact,' he said. 'But they are perfect paladins,and as good as forty. In your defence, cousin, I would pit themagainst a score of the hardiest Swedes that ever followed the King.'
My lady laughed gaily.
'Well, for this day, I will trust them,' she said. 'Martin, order thegrooms to saddle Pushka for me. And you, cousin, shall have the honourof mounting me. It is an age since I have had a frolic.'
Sometimes I doubt if my lady ever had such a frolic again. Happierdays she saw, I think, and many and many of them, I hope; but such aday of careless sunny gaiety, spent in the May greenwood, with joy andyouth riding by her, with old servants at her heels, and all thebeauties of her inheritance spread before her in light and shadow, shenever again enjoyed. We went by forest paths, which winding round thevalley, passed through woodlands, where the horses sank fetlock-deepin moss, and the laughing voices of the riders died away among thedistant trunks. Here were fairy rings deep-plunged in bracken, andchalky bottoms whence springs rose bright as crystal, and dim aislesof beeches narrowing into darkness, where last year's leaves rustledghostlike under foot, and the shadow of a squirrel startled theboldest. Once, emerging on the open down where the sun lay hot andbright, my lady gave her horse the rein, and for a mile or more wesped across the turf, with hoofs thundering on either hand, and bitsjingling, and horses pulling, only to fall into a walk again withflushed cheeks and brighter eyes, on the edge of the farther wood.Thence another mile, athwart the steep hillside through dwarf oaks andhuge blackthorn trees, brought us to the foot of the Maiden, and wedrew rein and dismounted, and stood looking down on the vale ofHeritzburg, while the grooms unpacked the dinner.
There is a niche in the great pillar, a man's height from the ground,in which one person may conveniently sit. The young Waldgrave spiedit.
'Up to the throne, cousin!' he cried, and he helped her to it, sittinghimself on the ledge at her feet, with his legs dangling. 'Why, thereis the Werra!' he continued.
A large quantity of rain had fallen that spring, and the river whichcommonly runs low between its banks, was plainly visible, a silverstreak crossing the distant mouth of the valley.
'Yes,' my lady answered. 'That is the Werra, and beyond it is, Isuppose, the world.'
'Whither I must go back this day week,' he said, between sighing andsmiling. 'Then, hey for the south and Nuremberg, the good cause andthe great King.'
'You have seen him?'
'Once only.'
'And is he so great a fighter?' my lady asked curiously.
'How can he fail to be when he and his men fight and prayalternately,' the Waldgrave answered; 'when there is no license in thecamp, and a Swede thinks death the same as victory?'
'Where is he now?'
'At Munich, in Bavaria.'
'How it would have grieved my uncle,' my lady said, with a sigh.
'He died as he would have wished to die,' the Waldgrave answeredgently. 'He believed in his cause, as the King of Sweden believes inhis; and he died for it. What more can a man ask? But here is Franzwith all sorts of good things. And I am afraid a feast of beauty,however perfect, does not prevent a man getting hungry.'
'That is a very pretty compliment to Heritzburg,' my lady said,laughing.
'Or its chatelaine!' I heard him murmur, with a tender look. But mylady only laughed again and called to me to come and name the hills,and tell my lord what land went with each of the three hamlets betweenwhich the lower valley is divided.
Doubtless that was but one of a hundred gallant things he said to her,and whereat she laughed, during the pleasant hour they whiled away atthe foot of the pillar, basking in the warm sunshine, and telling thevalley farm by farm. For the day was perfect, the season spring. I layon my side and dreamed my own dream under the trees, with the hum ofinsects in my ears. No one was in a hurry to rise, or set a term tosuch a time.
Still we had plenty of daylight before us when my lady mounted andturned her face homewards, thinking to reach the castle a little afterfive. But a hare got up as we crossed the open down, and showing goodsport, as these long-legged mountain hares will, led us far out of ourway, and caused us to spend nearly an hour in the chase. Then my ladyspied a rare flower on the cliffside; and the young Waldgrave mustneeds get it for her. And so it wanted little of sunset when we cameat last in sight of the bridge which spans the ravine at the back ofthe castle. I saw in the distance a lad seated on the parapet,apparently looking out for us, but I thought nothing of it. Thedescent was steep and we rode down slowly, my lady and the Waldgravelaughing and talking, and the rest of us sitting at our ease. Nor didthe least thought of ill occur to my mind until I saw that the lad hadjumped down from the wall and was running towards us waving his cap.
My lady, too, saw him.
'What is it, Martin?' she said, turning her head to speak to me.
> I told her I would see, and trotted forward along the side of the pathuntil I came within call. Then I cried sharply to the lad to know whatit was. I saw something in his face which frightened me; and beingfrightened and blaming myself, I was ready to fall on the first I met.
'The town!' he answered, panting up to my stirrup. 'There is fightinggoing on, Master Martin. They are pulling down Klink's house.'
'So, so,' I answered, for at the first sight of his face I had fearedworse. 'Have you closed the gate at the head of the steps?'
'Yes,' he said, 'and my lord's men are guarding it.'
'Right!' I answered. And then my lady came up, and I had to break thenews to her. Of course the young Waldgrave heard also, and I saw hiseyes sparkle with pleasure.
'Ha! the rascals!' he cried. 'Now we will trounce them! Trust me,cousin, we will teach these boors such a lesson as they shall longremember. But what is it?' he continued, turning to my lady who hadnot spoken. 'The Queen of Heritzburg is not afraid of her rebellioussubjects?'
My lady's eyes flashed. 'No, I am not afraid,' she said, withcontempt. 'But Klink's house? Do you mean the Red Hart, Martin?'
I said I did.
She plucked her horse by the head, and stopped short under the arch ofthe gateway. I think I see her now bending from her saddle with thelight on the woods behind her, and her face in shadow. 'Then thosepeople are in danger!' she said, her voice quivering with excitement.'Martin, take what men you have and go down into the town. Bring themoff at all risks! See to it yourself. If harm come to them, I shallnot forgive you easily.'
The Waldgrave sprang from his horse, and cried out that he would go.But my lady called to him to stay with her.
'Martin knows the streets, and you do not,' she said, slidingunassisted to the ground. 'But he shall take your men, if you do notobject.'
We dismounted, in a confused medley of men and horses, in the stablecourt, which is small, and being surrounded by high buildings, wasalmost dark. The grooms left at home had gone to the front of thehouse to see the sight, and there was no one to receive us. I bade thefive men who had ridden with us get their arms, and leaving the horsesloose to be caught and cared for by the lad who had met us, I hastenedafter my lady and the Waldgrave, who had already disappeared under thearch which leads to the Terrace Court.
To pass through this was to pass from night to day, so startling wasthe change. From one end to the other the terrace was aglow with redlight. The last level beams of the sun shone straight in our eyes aswe emerged, and so blinded us, that I advanced, seeing nothing beforeme but a row of dark figures leaning over the parapet. If we could notsee, however, we could hear. A hoarse murmur, unlike anything I hadheard before, came up from the town, and rising and falling in wavesof sound, now a mere whisper, and now a dull savage roar, caused theboldest to tremble. I heard my lady cry, 'Those poor people! Thosepoor people!' and saw her clench her hands in impotent anger; and thatsight, or the sound--which seemed the more weirdly menacing as thetown lay in twilight below us, and we could make out no more than afew knots of women standing in the market-place--or it may be somememory of the helpless girl I had seen at Klink's, so worked upon methat I had got the gate unbarred and was standing at the head of thesteps outside before I knew that I had stirred or given an order.
Some one thrust a half pike into my hand, and mechanically I countedout the men--four of the Waldgrave's and five, six, seven of our own.A strange voice--but it may have been my own--cried, 'Not by the HighStreet. Through the lane by the wall!' and the next moment we weredown out of the sunlight and taking the rough steps three at a time.The High Street reached, we swung round in a body to the right, andplunging into Shoe Wynd, came to the locksmith's, and thence went onby the way I had gone that other evening.
The noise was less down in the streets. The houses intervened anddeadened it. At some of the doors women were standing, listening andlooking out with grey faces, but one and all fled in at our approach,which seemed to be the signal, wherever we came, for barring doors andshooting bolts; once a man took to his heels before us, and again nearthe locksmith's we encountered a woman bare-headed and carryingsomething in her arms. She almost ran into the midst of us, and at thelast moment only avoided us by darting up the side-alley by the forge.Whether these people knew us for what we were, and so fled from us, ortook us for a party of the rioters, it was impossible to say. Thenarrow lanes were growing dark, night was falling on the town; onlythe over-hanging eaves showed clear and black against a pale sky. Theway we had to go was short, but it seemed long to me; for a dozentimes between the castle steps and Klink's house I thought of the poorgirl at her prayers, and pictured what might be happening.
Yet we could not have been more than five minutes going from the stepsto the corner beyond the forge, whence we could see Klink's sidewindow. A red glare shone though it, and cleaving the dark mist whichfilled the alley fell ruddily on the town wall. It seemed to say thatwe were too late; and my heart sank at the sight. Nor at the sightonly, for as we turned the corner, the hoarse murmur we had heard onthe Terrace, and which even there had sounded ominous, swelled to anangry roar, made up of cries and cursing, with bursts of recklesscheering, and now and again a yell of pain. The street away before us,where the lane ran into it, was full of smoky light and upturnedfaces; but I took no heed of it, my business was with the window. Icried to the men behind me and hurried on till I stood before it, andclutching the bars--the glass was broken long ago--looked in.
The room was full of men. For a moment I could see nothing but headsand shoulders and grim faces, all crowded together, and all alikedistorted by the lurid light shed by a couple of torches held close tothe ceiling. Some of the men standing in such groups as the constantjostling permitted, were talking, or rather shouting to one another.Others were savagely forcing back their fellows who wished to enter;while a full third were gathered with their faces all one way roundthe corner where I had seen the sick man. Here the light wasstrongest, and in this direction I gazed most anxiously. But thecrowded figures intercepted all view; neither there nor anywhere elsecould I detect any sign of the girl or child. The men in that cornerseemed to be gazing at something low down on the floor, something Icould not see. A few were silent, more were shouting andgesticulating.
I stretched my hands through the bars, and grasping a man by theshoulders, dragged him to me. 'What is it?' I cried in his ear,heedless whether he knew me, or took me for one of the ruffians whowere everywhere battling to get into the house--at the window we hadanticipated some by a second only. 'What is it?' I repeated fiercely,resisting all his efforts to get free.
'Nothing!' he answered, glaring at me. 'The man is dead; cannot yousee?'
'I can see nothing!' I retorted. 'Dead is he?'
'Ay, dead, and a good job too!' the rascal answered, making a freshattempt to get away. 'Dead when we came in.'
'And the girl?'
'Gone, the Papist witch, on a broomstick!' he answered. 'Through thewall or the ceiling or the keyhole, or through this window; but onlyon a broomstick. The bars would skin a cat!'
I let him go and looked at the bars. They were an inch thick, and avery few inches apart. It seemed impossible that a child, much more agrown woman, could pass between them. As the fellow said, there wasbarely room for a cat to pass.
Yet my mind clung to the bars. Klink might have hidden the girl, forwithout doubt he had neither foreseen nor meant anything like this.But something told me that she had gone by the window, and I turnedfrom it with renewed hope.
It was time I did turn. The crowd had got wind of our presence andresented it. All who could not get into the house to slake theircuriosity or anger, had pressed into the narrow alley where we stood,while the air rang with cries of 'No Popery! Down with the Papists!'When I turned I found my fellows hard put to it to keep theirposition. To retreat, close pressed as we were, seemed as difficult asto stand; but by making a resolute movement all together, we chargedto the front for a moment, and then taking advantage of the
interval,fell back as quickly as we could, facing round whenever it seemed thatour followers were coming on too boldly for safety.
In this way, the knaves with me being stout and some of them used tothe work, we retreated in good order and without hurt as far as theend of Shoe Wynd. Then I discovered to my dismay that a portion of themob had made along the High Street and were waiting for us on thesteep ascent where the wynd runs into the street.
Hitherto no harm had been done on either side, but we now foundourselves beset front and back, and to add to the confusion of thescene night had set in. The narrow wynd was as dark as pitch, savewhere the light of a chance torch showed crowded forms and snarlingfaces, while the din and tumult were enough to daunt the boldest.
That moment, I confess, was one of the worst I have known. I felt mymen waver; a little more and they might break and the mob deal with usas it would. On the other hand? I knew that to plunge, exposed toattack as we were from behind, into the mass of men who blocked theway to the steps, would be madness. We should be surrounded andtrodden down. There were not perhaps fifty really dangerous fellows inthe town; but a mob I have noticed is a strange thing. Men who joinit, intending merely to look on, are carried away by excitement, andsoon find themselves cursing and fighting, burning and raiding withthe foremost.
A brief pause and I gave the word to face about again. As I expected,the gang in the alley gave way before us, and the pursued became thepursuers. My men's blood was up now, their patience exhausted; and fora few moments pike and staff played a merry tune. But quickly the mobbehind closed up on our heels. Stones began to be thrown, andpresently one, dropped I think from a window, struck a man beside meand felled him to the ground.
That was our first loss. Drunken Steve, a great gross fellow, alwaysin trouble, but a giant in strength, picked him up--we could not leavethe man to be murdered--and plunged on with us bearing him under hisarm.
'Good man!' I cried between my teeth. And I swore it should save thedrunkard from many a scrape. But the next moment another was down, andhim I had to pick up myself. Then I saw that we were as good asdoomed. Against the stones we had no shield.
The men saw it too, and cried out, beside themselves with rage. Wewere as rats, set in a pit to be worried--in the dark with a hundredfoes tearing at us. And the town seemed to have gone mad--mad! Abovethe screams and wicked laughter, and all the din about us, I heard thegreat church bell begin to ring, and hurling its notes, now sharp, nowdull, down upon the seething streets, swell and swell the tumult untilthe very sky seemed one in the league against us!
Blind with fury--for what had we done?--we turned on the mob whichfollowed us and hurled it back--back almost to the High Street. Butthat way was no exit for us; the crowd stood so close that they couldnot even fly. Round we whirled again, wild and desperate now, andcharged down the alley towards the West Gate, thinking possiblyto win through and out by that way. We had almost reached thelocksmith's--then another man fell. He was of the Waldgrave'sfollowing, and his comrade stooped to raise him; but only to fall overhim, wounded in his turn.
What happened after that I only knew in part, for from that moment allwas a medley of random blows and stragglings in the dark. The crowdseeing half of us down, and the rest entangled, took heart of grace tofinish us. I remember a man dashing a torch in my face, and the blowblinding me. Nevertheless I staggered forward to close with him. Thensomething tripped me up, something or some one struck me from behindas I fell. I went down like an ox, and for me the fight was over.
Drunken Steve and two of the Waldgrave's men fought across me, I amtold, for a minute or more. Then Steve fell and an odd thing happened.The mob took fright at nothing--took fright at their own work, andcoming suddenly to their senses, poured pell-mell out of the alleyfaster than they had come into it. The two strangers, knowing nothingof the way or the town, knocked at the nearest door and were taken in,and sheltered till morning.