AN ITALIAN AND A SPANIARD.
An hour before dawn came Sergeant Blick to awaken Nigel with the news,
"We have the man on the sorrel horse!"
Nigel awoke completely, sprang out of bed, and was attired, even to his
jack-boots and spurs, in a few minutes. Then getting astride his horse
he was out of Eger and a mile on the road to Pilsen in a very few more.
"A kind of accursed Jew fellow! Some dark Moorish infidel of a heretic!"
was Sergeant Blick's summing up.
Sure enough it was that learned Doctor Pietro Bramante himself.
But this was not the field of prophecy or of divination. This was the
atmosphere of dawn, the kingdom of cold fact. Nigel nodded and said in
his brief military manner--
"Doctor! You must please turn out your saddle-bags and your pockets for
some papers which are lost. Sergeant, assist the doctor!"
The learned doctor began to protest, as might have been expected, but
Nigel merely vouchsafed that it was "in the service of the Emperor." He
himself searched the prisoner, whose multifarious garments made the
matter one of difficulty. And the fact that, if not an Israelite, he
was a very near relation, did not make the operation to Nigel a pleasant
one. But when he had finished, he was sure that nothing so bulky as
Count Tilly's despatches were upon him.
Sergeant Blick produced in his turn many curious vessels and books and
bottles from the saddle-bags, crossing himself at sight of anything
unusual, for he had no doubt that he was dealing, if not with the Evil
One, with one of his familiars. Nothing was found. Nigel with no excess
of courtesy bade him pack up his belongings.
"From what town came you to Eger?"
"Even from Hof by Olsnitz!"
"And for what reason got you half a truss of hay?"
"To save the inn charges and time!"
"And your companions?"
"They rest in Eger, being bound for Gräslitz. I know them not. We did
but join company for protection."
"At what inn did they rest?"
"I did not ask! Neither did I tell them that I had business with the
Duke."
"Enough!" said Nigel, and wheeled his horse.
With a rueful countenance the diviner began to replace his utensils,
carefully and patiently. He had at least learned two virtues.
Nigel, gravelled, rode back into the town in an ill-humour and called
for his breakfast. By the time that was finished the troopers were at
the door.
There was no help but to go forward, and one may be assured that neither
hill nor stream nor any wayside beauty of Bohemia could do aught to
bring his mind back to a calm mood. He suspected the "Jew," as he called
him. He suspected Gordon, and as for the phantasmagoria of last night,
he could make nothing of it. His tendency was to disbelieve, only his
respect for Wallenstein's powers of thought diminished his disbelief to
something approaching mere doubt. The one thing that stood out was the
vision of Ottilie von Thüringen.
Surely it was her "wraith." And if it had by chance been that of some
familiar friend in Scotland, or of some one of his blood relations, he
would have been awed, but he would have regarded it, in accord with
tradition, as portending or announcing some stroke of fate.
He had been carried too much out of himself to hear what Wallenstein had
muttered, to observe closely how that great one received the vision.
This at least he had garnered, that Wallenstein also recognised her.
But who then was she? There was another feeling that sprang up in his
heart, an uneasy half-born pang, which he dismissed only to find it
knocking at the door again. The "wraith" of Ottilie had gazed at
Wallenstein, not with eyes of speculation, as the playwright Shakespeare
had it, but as one might gaze with open eyes in dream at some beloved
object limned only in the brain behind.
But she had gazed at Wallenstein with a benignity which had softened the
whole countenance, a benignity which he himself in his two days' contact
with her had never surprised upon it. And this the geometrical
hocus-pocus of the vile Jew had foreshadowed when he contrived that the
right focus of her orbit should also be the centre of Wallenstein's. As
Nigel had no knowledge of geometry, and regarded it as a cabalistic
invention, though he had heard of telescopes, and of Columbus, and
vessel charts, he esteemed this part of the diviner's doings as mere
trickery, akin to the old devices of the magicians before Pharaoh. But
by no explanation of mere artifice could he doubt that he saw the
"wraith" of Ottilie, and that Wallenstein also saw. While recognising
her as some one he knew, had Wallenstein thought of her in any close
relation to himself? His attitude of surprise said no. But was it
possible that Wallenstein could forget so mysterious an occurrence,
dismiss it as a mere dream?
Nigel had had five or six years of close companionship with men. There
are men who, from their cradle to their grave, are attended and
companioned by women, and shrink from the rough and, on the whole,
kindly and bracing contact with their kind. Nigel had thrust himself
into the world of man at the dawn of manhood, and in the fellowship of
arms he had found as mixed a chance-medley as the world of men could
show, free from the namby-pamby of the courts, free from the court's
petty chicane, free from the emulous avarice of the mart; not in some
corners destitute of scholarship, though scholarship was rare; rejoicing
in bodily strength and skill in arms, in hearty eating, in wine, and
beer, and song, in which they honoured women much more than they ever
did in such commerce of love or licence as the fortune of war or the
conditions of the camp afforded.
From his study of manhood this Nigel had observed, that whereas among
the younger men the talk of doings in the lists of love was as frequent
as their flagons, it was almost entirely to seek among the older
officers, as among the older soldiers, giving place to criticism of
their professional doings, the appraising of the abilities of those more
advanced in rank, to politics, to affairs more akin to those of that
world without, that in some shape or form paid the reckoning.
He reasoned from the general to the particular, from those who had
failed to become Wallensteins to him who had not failed. He was
forty-eight, and if any man could find his interest in affairs of state
or war that man was Wallenstein. But the diviner had declared that
Wallenstein's future was bound up with a woman--had raised up, by what
witchcraft or geometry Nigel could give no guess, a vision of her with
rapt eyes bent on Wallenstein. Was Wallenstein at forty-eight proof
against the lure, proof against the charm of a majestic lovely woman, in
whom was nothing of Circe, nothing of that Helen of Troy, whose face, so
Kit Marlowe had phrased it, had
"... launched a thousand ships,
And burned the topless towers of Ilium,"
yet whose bodily presence had left Nigel with a hunger of the heart and
an unrest unaccustomed, as it was unsought, and unappeasable?
He knew it when he saw the vision, and he feared lest Wallenstein should
feel it, and, feeling it, stretch out his lion paw for the lioness
Destiny had offered.
These thoughts occupied much of his time as he journeyed to Pilsen, and,
with the exception that a well equipped and horsed light travelling
carriage passed them on the road with curtains closely drawn, no
traveller had passed or met them. But nearing Pilsen a pair of cavaliers
on very excellent beasts overtook them, and, saluting Nigel, made as if
they would fain keep him company. He could not profess to be travelling
faster seeing they had overtaken him, and a look at their horses showed
that they were better-bred animals and in better condition than his own.
Their politeness was marked, and one of them appeared to be an Italian
and one a Spaniard by his accent, though they addressed Nigel and his
lieutenant in good German. This they presently confirmed, for the
Italian gave his name as the Cavalier Marco Strozzi and introduced the
other as Don Phillipo di Tortaugas. They were travelling to Vienna, and
their valets were coming behind, having been outstripped by their
masters, who were eager to reach that city.
Nigel was bound to reciprocate their confidences by giving his own and
his companion's names and conditions, mentioning that a military errand
was taking him also to Vienna.
They were well-bred men and well travelled, for they spoke with
assurance of many towns and cities and princes and gentlemen of repute
of their acquaintance. They were curious to know of this Edict of
Restitution, of which every one spoke, and displayed some measure of
sympathy with the Emperor, who was the instrument of the Pope in the
enforcing of it. In their countries they were thankful to say heresy was
practically non-existent. In them the Church was powerful and paramount,
and they had no doubt of the ultimate success of the Church in Germany.
They spoke of Wallenstein, of whom they had heard much, and asked Nigel
if he thought Wallenstein was well affected towards the Edict. If so,
why had he been requested by the Emperor to give up his command? Nigel
cautiously answered that Wallenstein was before all things a
professional soldier, and had laid down his baton when the Emperor had
no more present need of him.
By the time they arrived at Pilsen the four gentlemen were on good terms
and sat down together to the evening meal. The two cavaliers insisted on
ordering the wine, whereof they themselves drank but sparingly, and made
merry with numerous tales of Italy and Spain, so that Nigel and his
lieutenant thought that they had never spent a more sociable evening. At
length the two cavaliers professed themselves sleepy and called for
candles, and Nigel and his comrade, not only professing, but most
indubitably inclined the same way, also made for their night quarters.
Now it was Nigel's custom to have his saddle-bags and holsters brought
to his own chamber, and this had been done. Sergeant Blick had always
this service to do, and Nigel dismissed him to a final quart of beer,
and was himself very soon asleep. In two hours he awoke,--a fact he set
down to the account of the unusual quality of the wine he had taken,
which was costly beyond his own purse limits, and some wines have the
nature to be greatly soporific, yet the effect is of somewhat brief
lasting.
He turned on his side, and, as he did so, he thought he heard the
creaking of a leathern strap, for his saddle-bags and holsters were new
and did not easily open. Then he took a deep audible breath and made as
if he sank into sleep again. But his ears were fully alert, and he made
sure that the noise was real. Very silently he turned again upon his
right side, meaning to possess himself of his sword, which was always
placed near his right hand, stretching out to take it. In an instant his
hand was caught in a noose and fastened to the bedpost. Springing up to
release it, his left ankle was seized and tied to another bedpost, and a
very effective bandage pushed into his mouth. The rest of him was
secured very quickly, and, as he could not cry out, he had the felicity
of knowing that his possessions were being thoroughly ransacked by the
two marauders, whoever they were.
Not a word was said. The room was in pitch darkness, and presently the
thieves stole away. For long he could not release himself by as much as
a single knot, but by infinite workings of his neck and chin and ankles
and wrists, till all were sore alike, he wore some fastening loose. And
just as he had attacked the last one, which bound his left leg, he heard
the sound of horses below in the courtyard, and presently the great
gates closed with a clang, and the hoofs of four horses sounded on the
cobblestones of the street.
He struck a light. All that he carried was on the floor, and saddle-bags
and holsters were empty. Nothing had been taken. His money, his clothes,
his weapons were all there. It had not then been for these.
It was a search for something, and that something was the despatches.
And these had been already stolen. It was evident that the first
plotters and the second were of diverse parties. The first might
conceivably be men who served the Protestant cause; but who were the
second? It was to the interest of the Protestant cause that their
leaders throughout Germany should know what forces they had to meet,
what Tilly was going to do next. But of whom else?