The entrenchments of the Golden Lion were thronged with red-coats. With
the battle cry, 'God with us!' the Swedish battalions charged upon
them. Then opened the battery upon its assailants, hurling death among
their ranks from twenty thundering throats of fire. Unmoved, at first,
the warriors saw their comrades falling on either hand, and pressed
bravely onward. Now, however, the grape and canister shot of the enemy
began its work of destruction, and in constantly increasing rapidity of
succession sank the victims in their blood, until finally the weakened
survivors gave ground and slowly retreated.
The king, surrounded by his retinue, sat upon his charger, within the
range of the enemy's artillery, as quietly as if at a review. Arwed, at
his side, observed this new spectacle with a spirit-stirring pleasure.
Presently one of the weakened and retreating battalions came near the
king. With indignation in his eye he sprang to meet them. 'You are
Swedes,' thundered he, 'and do you fly? Back to the enemy!'
'We have lost all our officers, your majesty!' cried an old corporal.
Trembling with eager desire to enter the lists, Arwed instantly threw
himself out of his saddle, and asked, his foot still in the stirrup:
'may I lead these troops once more against the battery?'
'You may make the attempt!' replied the king kindly to him, and
immediately galloped to the other side of the battery, where also the
Swedes had begun to give ground. In a transport of joy Arwed sprang
from his horse, drew his sword, and cried to the soldiers: 'in the
king's name, halt, left wheel!'
The soldiers obeyed, and Arwed placed himself at their head.
'Think of the hero whose soldiers you are,' cried he: 'and of your own
glory; and, in God's name, march!'
'God be with us!' cried the newly encouraged band, rushing on after
their leader. Several lives were lost in the advance, but the main
part, strengthened by the fragments of the other battalions, soon stood
by the palisades safely sheltered from the fire of the enemy's cannon.
But now the little musket balls whistled from the breastworks, and
murderous grenades were bursting among them at almost every moment.
'Force out the palisades and pass the trench!' commanded Arwed, and
with prodigious strength he removed some of the pales, which he placed
over the hard frozen ditch and pushed forward. The soldiers followed
the example, and the opposite side of the wall was soon covered with
the clambering troops. The Danes defended themselves with great fury,
and the dear victory was purchased with the sacrifice of many Swedish
lives. Two musket balls passed through Arwed's hat, but in an instant
thereafter, he stood upon the breastwork and pierced the heart of one
of the marksmen with his sword. A bayonet-thrust of the other grazed
his cheek. This one fell under the blows given by the clubbed muskets
of the closely following Swedes, and soon the Swedish banner floated
proudly over the stormed works.
Meanwhile the king, who had been attempting an entrance on the other
side of the wall, hastened hither at the head of one of his battalions,
and the few remaining Danes threw down their arms and begged for
quarter.
'What, before me, upon the walls!' cried the royal hero, embracing the
bleeding Arwed. 'There is yet a true Swede! You are a captain of the
guards, Gyllenstierna.'
'We have two companies, prisoners,' said Siquier, stepping up to the
king with a sanguinary expression of countenance. They have compelled
us to storm the place, and their lives are forfeited. Does your majesty
command their execution?'
'Right, Siquier,' answered Charles, affecting to misunderstand him,
'Let the poor creatures be fed in our camp,--and when they have
satiated their appetites, let them promise not to fight against me
again in this war--and then, in God's name, let them go in peace.'
'As your majesty commands!' said Siquier, grating his teeth and
proceeding to the execution of the unwelcome commission.
'If the lord has remitted ten thousand shekels to us,' said Charles,
turning graciously to Arwed, 'surely we can remit a trifling debt to
our fellow men;--can we not, my dear captain?'
'Hail to the hero who knows how to pardon as well as to conquer!'
exclaimed Arwed with enthusiasm.
'No flattery!' cried Charles, stamping angrily. 'I know that it was
fairly meant, but I do not like it.'
He departed. Arwed leaned against the breastwork and observed the
trains of Danish prisoners who were being escorted into the camp. Then
glancing proudly upon the blood-besprinkled place he had conquered--and
afterwards towards the east, where Stockholm lay;--he sighed, 'had but
Georgina seen me!'