THE PASTOR'S PILGRIMAGE.
The Archduchess Stephanie had rightly counted on a safe journey from
Halberstadt to Bohemia, however small an escort she might be accorded.
For, as the Countess Ottilie von Thüringen she claimed safe conduct
whenever there was any risk of getting embroiled with small bodies of
Protestant levies, and her escort was far too mindful of its own safety
to risk giving any other account of her than she chose to give.
As it was a matter of knowledge to the chief conspirators in each place
that she was a medium of communication between Wallenstein and the
Protestant leaders, her name was sufficient to guarantee her safety
through country patrolled by their troops.
So it was the track of the Countess Ottilie von Thüringen that Pastor
Rad picked up at Erfurt. He learned that she had an escort of twenty
Imperial troopers: that she had in her train several women servants or
companions, the information not being very exact or well-defined: that
she was making her way to Prague.
To Prague, then, the pastor made his way easily enough. The man that had
come through the fires at Magdeburg and run innumerable risks at
Breitenfeld, although not himself using the arms of the soldiery but
only spiritual weapons, was in a measure a kind of prodigious heroic
creature, and fared well accordingly. Much talking and preaching made
him exceedingly hungry, and the farmers and burghers, who one after the
other housed and fed him, were as much amazed at, and respected him as a
trencherman, a thing they were well able to judge of, as they were at
his exploits, of which they were, in truth, obliged to take the greater
part at his own telling.
Prague was in a great turmoil. For bruit of the advance of the Saxon
troops was in every mouth, though no one knew anything for certain.
Indeed Pastor Rad knew as well as any one, though he kept his own
counsel. The way of things was indeed greatly to his liking. The
Lutherans were getting the upper hand, just as but a short year before
the Catholics had done. It was in this wise. The Catholics had learned
that no sufficient aid could reach them from Vienna. They had looked for
Wallenstein to organise their defence, and had he chosen to raise his
own banner, it is possible that a sufficient force of Catholic gentry
and their retainers could have been mustered that, together with the
Imperial garrisons, might have given the Saxons a very long pause.
But to the amazement of all, Wallenstein dismantled his house, collected
his furniture in waggons and his household in coaches, and set out
without haste towards Vienna. In fact, he rested at Znaim. This had
given the signal for something like panic, and although it was the dead
of winter, Catholic family after Catholic family followed in his wake,
each departure making it still more difficult for the next, and creating
confusion through the desperate efforts of each not to be the
hindermost.
From the innkeepers Pastor Rad learned that the Countess Ottilie had
rested but a night and gone on to Znaim, which being learned, the
pastor could not resist the temptation of spending a day or two in the
congenial company of the Lutherans of Prague, proving how well he could
bray out prophetic denunciations against the fleeing Catholics. As he
took his daily stand near the south gate of the city, his exuberant
yellow locks floating in the wind, he was able to assail with his
scriptural invective all the fugitives, with the certainty that some of
his words at least would be, if not exactly treasured, at all events
remembered by dint of his unwearied reiteration.
It was only when the burghers of Prague, tenacious of their privileges
and of the well-ordering of their city, even with the dismal prospect
before them of an occupation by their friends the Saxons, awakened to a
sense of the unseemliness of his clamour, that Pastor Rad remembered the
Lady Ottilie and Elspeth Reinheit, whose father was so well-to-do.
Once again he took staff in hand and trudged on to Znaim. At Znaim the
host could only say that the Lady Ottilie had set out a full month
before for Vienna.
He looked blank at the prospect. But he was by nature persistent, and
unwilling to give up his search, which was now somewhat uninviting.
Vienna meant Popery rampant, Jesuits in scores, rough soldiery, not
rougher than usual, but with the licence of authority to subject a mere
Lutheran pastor to all kinds of insults. There would be Lutherans even
in Vienna, but those few and needy, and for companions on the road he
would overtake the very Catholics he had so denounced.
Of money he had no great store, but he had contrived some replenishing
of his purse at Prague, and husbanded his money as much as possible,
taking advantage of every opportunity that offered of a free meal. In
this way he accomplished the journey without much interruption, a few
hard blows from the servants of those who remembered his oratory at
Prague, excepted.
Vienna with its populace, as it seemed to him, speaking all the tongues
except German and curiously garbed, thronging with priests and nuns and
soldiers, stared at him, professed not to understand his speech. He
slunk into the first inn that offered a semblance of refuge and frugal
fare at a modest price. Having slept as well as he was able, he set out
the next morning to find the Lady Ottilie von Thüringen.
Having first approached some of his own belief and discovered that they
knew nothing of her, not even her name, he accosted some of the better
class of burgesses, who showed him greater courtesy than he expected,
but could give him no information. Failing with the citizens, he
addressed himself with more politeness than he was in the habit of using
(he had no very abundant stock in his wallet) to some of the gentlemen
who aired themselves and their newest raiment in the principal streets.
One or two of them manifested sufficient interest to take note of the
name on their tablets and asked him to describe the lady, which he did
with much particularity. These having heard, dismissed him with a vague
negative, but left a disturbing impression on his mind that they knew
more than they pretended.
Two days went by in this manner and in losing his way and finding it in
the tortuous streets of the city. On the third day, however, he saw, as
he stood gazing at the palace of the Emperor, an officer of high rank,
as it seemed, come out and mount his horse which had been held by a
soldier at the entrance.
The pastor's eyes roved wearily over this new subject, noting with
contemptuous attention the plumed hat, the gold lace galloons and other
striking embellishments, when something familiar in the officer's
features or attitude came home to his consciousness. Then he recognised
Nigel as the miscreant of Magdeburg, who had given him that
never-to-be-forgotten chastisement.
Pulling his hat over his brows the pastor followed Nigel to his
lodgings, and from midday till dusk he watched, following when Nigel set
out, waiting when he returned. In what way he was to come at his desired
end he did not know; but his old suspicion that between Nigel and
Elspeth was some dark secret understanding had leapt to his mind with
renewed vigour. It was a great joy to him when at dusk Nigel once more
emerged, wrapped in a military cloak, bent upon some, so the pastor
judged, furtive errand.
The dusk that favoured Nigel favoured him also. He followed with all the
sleuth-hound in his composition, alert and noiseless. He wanted no
second rencontre with that energetic Scot, but he did want to know very
much whither he was bound.
He had much ado to keep pace, for Nigel walked quickly, but the pastor
was a sturdy man and young. He kept well up and always in the shadow.
The road lay away from the main streets into meaner ones, then left the
houses altogether. On the left lay the city walls, furnished now and
again with guard-houses, and defensive angles, and projections. On the
right was a high bank, surmounted by a wall, of what height or thickness
he could not gauge.
At a certain point Nigel stopped, looked round a moment, and then began
to climb the bank. The pastor stood in the nearest shadow at the foot
and watched till Nigel was at the top. Then the darkness was too much
for him. Very stealthily the pastor climbed too. He was not a forest man
for nothing. At the top it was clear that Nigel had disappeared. He must
therefore have climbed the wall.
The wall was high, about twice the height of a man, with a coping-stone
at the top, pent-house-wise, and grown thickly with moss and lichen and
wild flowers. The wall was also rough, and the little clumps of moss
showing in the interstices marked uneven places of which a climber might
take advantage if he had long fingers and stout toes. But how to get off
the ground was a problem. For a few moments he groped, half inclined to
impute to "the Popish captain," as he called him, the sin of witchcraft,
in addition to those of greed, unchastity, impiety, and a string of
others of which the pastor was satisfied already. Then something that
flicked him in the face, to wit, the leafless bough of a tree, brought
him the solution. To spring for one a little above his head, and use it
for a hand-grip while he stepped from toe-place to toe-place, and
finally could dig his fingers securely into a great clump of moss at the
coping with his right hand and haul himself up, took but a short
interval of time. The getting down was not difficult.
The darkness had swallowed up Nigel. The grass made his footfall
noiseless. The pastor's eyes, accustomed to the half darkness of the
forest, were well fitted to the task at present. They enabled him merely
to avoid or to thread the tangle of the bushes and get more and more
into the open where the sky, now starlit, now cloudy by turns, allowed
him a longer vision. At last he saw that the belt of grassland dotted by
bushes was succeeded by formal walks and beds for flowers. A mile or so
ahead he caught fitful glimpses of lights in some tall pile of
buildings, which he conjectured to be the palace. These must be the
demesnes of the Emperor's dwelling-place. His Popish captain was bent
upon a rendezvous, doubtless with Elspeth. But where? Cautiously he
stalked along making a straight line for the palace, keeping to turf or
soft flower-beds by preference, and every now and then standing in the
shadow of a sapling to seek for the amorous pair, to listen for the
whispers that might betoken their presence. And so going farther and
farther he came to a hedge, behind which was another wall, this time of
no great height, but still sufficient. Along this he crept seeking for a
gate. Here was a garden close for growing fruit, he argued, and the
lovers might well have left a door unfastened in their eagerness. But
having made the circuit and discovered three doors all secure, he found
he must prove again his skill in climbing. The wind blowing just
sufficiently to make the twigs and boughs keep up a low whistling, made
it impossible to judge where he should make his attempt. So he selected
the corner with an eye to an easy ascent. Once upon the wall he paused,
lying flat and clasping its top with both hands.
There he lay listening with both ears, trying to get used to the
whispering of the branches till he could distinguish the tones of human
murmuring. Then he dragged himself along a few more yards.
Pastor Rad felt that Providence was with him. His motive was excellent
in his own eyes. He was engaged in the pursuit of the evil-doer. What he
should do when he had found him was not at present clear. Providence
would point out by process of revelation what the next step should be.
For the time being he crawled to the detriment of his clothing along the
wall. His patience and his stealth, the latter not usually mentioned in
connection with Providence, were rewarded. He heard voices, a man's and
a woman's.
The one was that of the ruthless Catholic Scotsman, the betrayer of
Elspeth Reinheit. Had he not cause to remember its deep tones? The other
was not Elspeth's. For a few instants he was at a loss. They were also
deep and rich and aristocratic; the words they uttered were choice
rather than homely. Then something in them recalled the very woman he
was seeking, Ottilie von Thüringen.
At this moment when he waited for the inspiration he expected, an
untoward interruption befell. He dislodged a large stone, which fell
with a very noticeable thud on the inner side of the wall, and he was at
the same time clutched by the leg, and very unceremoniously pulled to
the ground on the outside of the wall by a pair of ruffians, who, with a
choice garnishment of oaths growled under their breaths, proceeded first
to rifle his pockets quite thoroughly, and then to bind his arms behind
his back, his legs together, and to lay him, so trussed, on his back.
Then they began to clamber up the wall, only to find that the love-birds
they had come to seek had flown.
Pastor Rad wriggled in vain while his captors explored the orchard
close, and at the end of their fruitless search they returned, untied
his legs and marched him firmly and rudely towards the palace, where
they placed him in a guard-room, satisfied that if they had missed a
salmon they had at least caught a dog-fish.