NIGEL COLLECTS HIS DUES.
Nigel's quick eye roved over the throng.
"Now, Master Scrivener!" he said, picking out a lean-faced worthy who
shrank behind a burly citizen. "Sit you at this table and write down the
names and conditions of the prisoners!"
The scrivener drew forth pen and inkhorn.
"Now, madame! Yours!"
"Ottilie of Thüringen!" She had risen to make the reply, and again their
eyes met in silent combat.
"It would be as well, your Highness, if you carried your friend to
another room! What is her name and condition?"
"Elspeth Reinheit, daughter of Andreas Reinheit, farmer, of Eisenach in
Thüringen!"
Then she motioned to the young pastor, who came forward with an air of
defiance which sat ill upon him, and together they lifted the girl. At
the mention of her name she had opened her still tear-laden eyes and let
them seek those of Nigel, who appeared not to see; but the young pastor,
as he and the dark lady lifted their charge, knitted his brows as if a
spasm of jealousy had waylaid him, who had some right to the feeling
where the sick girl was concerned. They passed out by the door of the
room which had harboured the Magdeburgers.
"Now, sirs, step hither to the scrivener one by one; let him write your
name and calling. And whatever of money or money's worth you carry on
your persons place it here on the table."
There was a low murmuring, but no open dispute of his will.
A grim smile relaxed the features of the musketeers.
A grave portly merchant came forward and announced himself as "Ulrich
Pfeifer, silk mercer," and deposited a gold chain and a purse of money.
The eyes of the soldiers glistened as they heard the clink of the good
metal. If they had thought their captain was, though a hearty fighter, a
somewhat indifferent gatherer of the spoils, they were ready to retract
their opinion. As for Nigel's face, it showed no eagerness or greed.
The merchant of silk was followed by a tanner, a hosier, an armourer, a
shoemaker, and a maker of gloves. There were a few gold chains in the
company, and the money was in purses of divers kinds and conditions, and
of all the currencies of Europe. After the merchants came the craftsmen
and artisans, who made but meagre contributions: and not a few lips
trembled as the hard-earned and hardly-kept florins rattled on the
table. Then came the apprentices, shamefaced, turning out their pockets
in proof that they had none but a few copper coins, which Nigel
Charteris bade them pick up again.
The scrivener's task being completed, together with the heaping of the
spoil, Nigel called for Sergeant Blick and bade him conduct the
prisoners to the camp and set a guard over them, till he should come to
take Count Tilly's instructions for their disposal. At which order they
one and all looked more crestfallen than before, for it portended they
knew not what. Two months' leaguer with all its hardships, its alarms,
its hunger; a week's storming with its perils from without, two days of
horrors within, had left them all with a lively sense of the power of
the Emperor to enforce his edicts. And in their ears the name of Count
Tilly was a synonym for an incarnation of the powers and practices of
the Evil One.
But there was no appeal from the Catholic captain. The young pastor, who
had returned, and the scrivener headed the procession. The soldiers
below received them. Sergeant Blick gave the orders, and the noise of
their retreating feet came through the open window to the ears of Nigel.
"Now," said he to the two men-at-arms, who had been with him from the
beginning of the episode, "you can search the house for yourselves.
Touch nothing of that which belongs to the ladies who were here; nor
load yourselves with that which is heavy to carry and of no certain
worth. Say to the Lady Ottilie of Thüringen that I crave her presence
here in a quarter of an hour. The other two of you remain on guard
without."
The order obeyed, he poured out his booty into a heap, picked out the
gold pieces and the chain, that had been so cherished an adornment of
the silk weaver, and put them in a purse of leather, which he fastened
securely and disposed with equal care about him; then the silver pieces,
which were far more numerous and bulky, he divided into four parts, two
for Sergeant Blick, and one each for the musketeers, in case their
ransacking of the house under the conditions laid down should provide
them with but a meagre reward. These three weighty and bulky parcels,
tied in separate purses, he fastened beneath his cloak to his
sword-belt, and he had scarcely done so before the haughty Ottilie made
her entry. Her bearing was serene and high.
He rose from the chair and bade her be seated. She accepted the offer
without thanks but without any show of disdain. She seemed to have
allowed herself to enter upon a softer mood.
"I have asked for an audience, your Highness----"
"Why Highness?" she asked. "In German lands that is for princesses."
"It accords with your bearing! The grades of rank in these countries are
bewildering. What would you be called?"
"In Thüringen I am styled plainly, madame!"
"Madame, be it then! Are you the daughter of the Landgrave of
Thüringen?"
"In what way does that concern one of Tilly's captains of musketeers? I
go where I choose, and own no man for my master."
Nigel smiled at her petulance.
"It concerns me in this way. Magdeburg is a heap of ruins. It is true a
few streets remain, but I have no mind to leave you and your friend
Elspeth Reinheit to be the chance prey of fire, or of plunder-seeking
cut-throats."
"You describe your soldiery with admirable precision!" she interrupted.
"I was referring to the human vermin that swarm from their haunts in
cities whenever order gives way to disorder, and to camp-followers who
are like unto them." His voice took on a deeper seriousness. "Come to
the window, it is beginning to get dusk, you will see them."
She rose and moved across in her stately way to the casement. He pointed
to the street.
"Do you see those?"
Three nondescript tattered ruffians and a woman with half-naked breasts,
clad in remnants, gave vent to raucous laughter, and each man fingered a
long knife at his girdle. On the back of each was a stuffed wallet, and
at the sight of the lady they raised a shrill cry of glee, and made
across. The lady shuddered.
"I have men outside," he said. "But if they were not, do you think your
puny dagger-play, or your proud tongue, would save you? They would hack
off your slender fingers for their rings, strip you for your fine linen,
and if they left you your life...."
The girl's face blanched.
"You need not go on! I understand. What are we to do?"
"Your friend Elspeth Reinheit dwells at Eisenach? And you, madame, at
some castle near by? Is it not so?"
"I have friends at the castle of the Wartburg!" she said.
"Good! I will arrange an escort and send you both to your friends. It is
about three days' journey."
"Elspeth will not be able to ride!"
"Then she must have a coach, if one can be found."
"And the pastor?"
"I cannot answer for him. There are too many of them as it is."
"As to that," she said, "it depends on one's faith. But there is talk of
a betrothal between them." The girl watched his face with a close
scrutiny as she said it.
"I do not know what Count Tilly may order concerning him. She is quite
welcome to her pastor," he said with indifference. "As I said, there are
far too many pastors, and priests too for that matter, for quiet living.
If they would baptise the children, marry the youths and maidens,
administer the sacraments, and amuse you women in between without
interfering with the other business of the world, it would be far
better."
"We had better make ready!" she said. "And the dead pastor?"
"He must be left to his flock. Count Tilly will dismiss the poorest
prisoners. Do you, madame, get your charge ready at once for her journey
to the camp. The men shall make a litter!"
"You are more an officer of Wallenstein than of Tilly!" she said. "Were
I you, I should seek employment with the former."
"Wallenstein! I was with Wallenstein till the Emperor accepted his
resignation!"
"The Emperor will recall him!" she said confidently.
Nigel sprang towards her eagerly.
"Is this true? And if true, how do you know it? Who are you?"
She smiled a lofty, condescending, tantalising smile and left him.
Wallenstein! Wallenstein in chief command again! Wallenstein the supreme
general of generals, the man who could pick men, place them in the exact
rank they could fill, caring nothing for archdukes or landgraves, only
for soldiers,--the man who could make war itself an orderly thing, not
quartering rough soldiers promiscuously upon quiet burgher families, but
levying contributions and spending them in pay and provisions like any
merchant, getting good value for them. Wallenstein appealed to the Scot
in Nigel as a thorough man, no less brave than Tilly, but a genius for
organising armies, a good Catholic, but no fanatic. It was like a shrill
summons to Nigel to hear that Wallenstein might take the field again.
But how could this proud damsel of Thüringen know? Who was she?
To be the daughter of the Landgrave of Thüringen was to be almost the
daughter of a prince. She had not admitted it, but that she came of very
noble birth he was sure. She must be steeped in Lutheranism to be in
Magdeburg during the siege. Yet she seemed not to regard either the dead
pastor or the living with the respect that one who was strong in the
faith would be likely to show.
His men-at-arms came in, doublets and pockets stuffed. They had found no
wine at all events.
He bade them take two of the old pikes from the pile of arms, tear down
a curtain, and with them make a rough litter.
"I must take one more look at my uncle," Elspeth murmured when her
companion returned with her, and Nigel opened the door. She paid her
last dues of affection, loth to leave her dead to a possibly
unceremonious burial at strange hands. But Ottilie had explained the
matter to her. Then she came out and lay down upon the litter.
The two musketeers lifted her as if she had weighed but a few pounds,
and tramped towards the door.
Her friend walked just beside her. Nigel cast one look round and
followed.
Then they made their way to the outskirts of the town beyond the
ramparts and the fosses.
When Nigel had with infinite trouble found them privacy and housing for
the night, the lady of Thüringen responded graciously enough to his
"good night!" adding, "I am glad my dagger failed me, Sir Captain. You
are too courteous to die by a woman's hand."