Malcolm had brought with him from Tilly's camp a supply of provisions
sufficient for three or four days, and a flask of wine. Before he
started from New Brandenburg the syndic had slipped into his band a
purse containing ten gold pieces, and whenever he came to a village
which had escaped the ravages of the war he had no difficulty in
obtaining provisions.
It was pitiable at each place to see the anxiety with which the
villagers crowded round him upon his arrival and questioned him as to
the position of the armies and whether he had met with any parties
of raiders on the way. Everywhere the cattle had been driven into the
woods; boys were posted as lookouts on eminences at a distance to bring
in word should any body of men be seen moving in that direction; and the
inhabitants were prepared to fly instantly at the approach of danger.
The news that Tilly's army was marching in the opposite direction was
received with a deep sense of thankfulness and relief, for they were
now assured of a respite from his plunderers, although still exposed to
danger from the arrival of some of the numerous bands. These, nominally
fighting for one or other of the parties, were in truth nothing but
marauders, being composed of deserters and desperadoes of all kinds, who
lived upon the misfortunes of the country, and were even more cruel and
pitiless than were the regular troops.
At one of these villages Malcolm exchanged his attire as a serving man
of a rich burgher for that of a peasant lad. He was in ignorance of the
present position of the Swedish army, and was making for the intrenched
camp of Schwedt, on the Oder, which Gustavus had not left when he had
last heard of him.
On the fourth day after leaving the camp of Tilly, as Malcolm was
proceeding across a bare and desolate country he heard a sound of
galloping behind him, and saw a party of six rough looking horsemen
coming along the road. As flight would have been useless he continued
his way until they overtook him. They reined up when they reached him.
“Where are you going, boy, and where do you belong to?” the leader of
the party asked.
“I am going in search of work,” Malcolm answered. “My village is
destroyed and my parents killed.”
“Don't tell me that tale,” the man said, drawing a pistol from his
holster. “I can tell by your speech that you are not a native of these
parts.”
There was nothing in the appointments of the men to indicate which party
they favoured, and Malcolm thought it better to state exactly who he
was, for a doubtful answer might be followed by a pistol shot, which
would have brought his career to a close.
“You are right,” he said quietly; “but in these times it is not safe
always to state one's errand to all comers. I am a Scotch officer in the
army of the King of Sweden. I was in New Brandenburg when it was stormed
by Tilly. I disguised myself, and, passing unnoticed, was forced to
accompany his army as a teamster. The second night I escaped, and am now
making my way to Schwedt, where I hope to find the army.”
The man replaced his pistol.
“You are an outspoken lad,” he said laughing, “and a fearless one. I
believe that your story is true, for no German boor would have looked
me in the face and answered so quietly; but I have heard that the Scotch
scarce know what danger is, though they will find Tilly and Pappenheim
very different customers to the Poles.”
“Which side do you fight on?” Malcolm asked.
“A frank question and a bold one!” the leader laughed. “What say you,
men? Whom are we for just at present? We were for the Imperialists the
other day, but now they have marched away, and as it may be the Swedes
will be coming in this direction, I fancy that we shall soon find
ourselves on the side of the new religion.”
The men laughed. “What shall we do with this boy? To begin with, if he
is what he says, no doubt he has some money with him.”
Malcolm at once drew out his purse. “Here are nine gold pieces,” he
said. “They are all I have, save some small change.”
“That is better than nothing,” the leader said, pocketing the purse.
“And now what shall we do with him?”
“He is a Protestant,” one of the men replied; “best shoot him.”
“I should say,” another said, “that we had best make him our cook. Old
Rollo is always grumbling at being kept at the work, and his cooking
gets worse and worse. I could not get my jaws into the meat this
morning.”
A murmur of agreement was raised by the other horsemen.
“So be it,” the leader said. “Dost hear, lad? You have the choice
whether you will be cook to a band of honourable gentlemen or be shot at
once.”
“The choice pleases me not,” Malcolm replied. “Still, if it must
needs be, I would prefer for a time the post of cook to the other
alternative.”
“And mind you,” the leader said sharply, “at the first attempt to escape
we string you up to the nearest bough. Carl, do you lead him back and
set him to work, and tell the men there to keep a sharp watch upon him.”
One of the men turned his horse, and, with Malcolm walking by his side,
left the party. They soon turned aside from the road, and after a ride
of five miles across a rough and broken country entered a wood. Another
half mile and they reached the foot of an eminence, on the summit of
which stood a ruined castle. Several horses were picketed among the
trees at the foot of the hill, and two men were sitting near them
cleaning their arms. The sight of these deterred Malcolm from carrying
into execution the plan which he had formed--namely, to strike down his
guard with his club as he dismounted, to leap on his horse, and ride
off.
“Who have you there, Carl?” one of the men asked as they rose and
approached the newcomers.
“A prisoner,” Carl said, “whom the captain has appointed to the
honourable office of cook instead of old Rollo, whose food gets harder
and tougher every day. You are to keep a sharp eye over the lad, who
says he is a Scotch officer of the Swedes, and to shoot him down if he
attempts to escape.”
“Why, I thought those Scots were very devils to fight,” one of the men
said, “and this is but a boy. How comes he here?”
“He told the captain his story, and he believed it,” Carl said
carelessly, “and the captain is not easily taken in. He was captured by
Tilly at New Brandenburg, which town we heard yesterday he assaulted and
sacked, killing every man of the garrison; but it seems this boy put
on a disguise, and being but a boy I suppose passed unnoticed, and was
taken off as a teamster with Tilly's army. He gave them the slip, but
as he has managed to fall into our hands I don't know that he has gained
much by the exchange. Now, youngster, go up to the castle.”
Having picketed his horse the man led the way up the steep hill. When
they reached the castle Malcolm saw that it was less ruined than it had
appeared to be from below. The battlements had indeed crumbled away,
and there were cracks and fissures in the upper parts of the walls,
but below the walls were still solid and unbroken, and as the rock was
almost precipitous, save at the point at which a narrow path wound up
to the entrance, it was still capable of making a stout defence against
attack.
A strong but roughly made gate, evidently of quite recent make, hung
on the hinges, and passing through it Malcolm found himself in the
courtyard of the castle. Crossing this he entered with his guide what
had once been the principal room of the castle. A good fire blazed in
the centre; around this half a dozen men were lying on a thick couch of
straw. Malcolm's guide repeated the history of the newcomer, and then
passed through with him into a smaller apartment, where a man was
attending to several sauce pans over a fire.
“Rollo,” he said, “I bring you a substitute. You have been always
grumbling about being told off for the cooking, just because you
happened to be the oldest of the band. Here is a lad who will take your
place, and tomorrow you can mount your horse and ride with the rest of
us.”
“And be poisoned, I suppose, with bad food when I return,” the man
grumbled--“a nice lookout truly.”
“There's one thing, you old grumbler, it is quite certain he cannot do
worse than you do. My jaws ache now with trying to eat the food you gave
us this morning. Another week and you would have starved the whole band
to death.”
“Very well,” the man said surlily; “we will see whether you have gained
by the exchange. What does this boy know about cooking?”
“Very little, I am afraid,” Malcolm said cheerfully; “but at least I can
try. If I must be a cook I will at least do my best to be a good one.
Now, what have you got in these pots?”
Rollo grumblingly enumerated their contents, and then putting on his
doublet went out to join his comrades in the hall, leaving Malcolm to
his new duties.
The latter set to work with a will. He saw that it was best to appear
contented with the situation, and to gain as far as possible the
goodwill of the band by his attention to their wants. In this way their
vigilance would become relaxed, and some mode of escape might open
itself to him. At dusk the rest of the band returned, and Malcolm found
that those who had met him with the captain were but a portion of the
party, as three other companies of equal strength arrived at about the
same time, the total number mounting up to over thirty.
Malcolm was conscious that the supper was far from being a success; but
for this he was not responsible, as the cooking was well advanced when
he undertook it; however the band were not dissatisfied, for it was
much better than they had been accustomed to, as Malcolm had procured
woodwork from the disused part of the castle, and had kept the fire
briskly going; whereas his predecessor in the office had been too
indolent to get sufficient wood to keep the water on the boil.
In the year which Malcolm had spent in camp he had learned a good deal
of rough cookery, for when on active duty the officers had often to
shift for themselves, and consequently next day he was able to produce
a dinner so far in advance of that to which the band was accustomed that
their approbation was warmly and loudly expressed.
The stew was juicy and tender, the roast done to a turn, and the
bread, baked on an iron plate, was pronounced to be excellent. The band
declared that their new cook was a treasure. Malcolm had already found
that though he could move about the castle as he chose, one of the band
was now always stationed at the gate with pike and pistols, while at
night the door between the room in which he cooked and the hall was
closed, and two or three heavy logs thrown against it.
Under the pretence of getting wood Malcolm soon explored the castle. The
upper rooms were all roofless and open to the air. There were no windows
on the side upon which the path ascended, and by which alone an attack
upon the castle was possible. Here the walls were pierced only by narrow
loopholes for arrows or musketry. On the other sides the windows were
large, for here the steepness of the rock protected the castle from
attack.
The kitchen in which he cooked and slept had no other entrance save that
into the hall, the doorway into the courtyard being closed by a heap of
fallen stones from above. Two or three narrow slits in the wall allowed
light and air to enter. Malcolm saw that escape at night, after he had
once been shut in, was impossible, and that in the daytime he could not
pass out by the gate; for even if by a sudden surprise he overpowered
the sentry there, he would be met at the bottom of the path by the
two men who were always stationed as guards to the horses, and to give
notice of the approach of strangers.
The only chance of escape, therefore, was by lowering himself from one
of the windows behind, down the steep rock. To do this a rope of some
seventy feet long was necessary, and after a careful search through the
ruins he failed to discover even the shortest piece of rope.
That afternoon some of the band on their return from foraging drove in
half a dozen cattle, and one of these was with much difficulty compelled
to climb up the path to the castle, and was slaughtered in the yard.
“There, Scot, are victuals for the next week; cut it up, and throw the
head and offal down the rock behind.”
As Malcolm commenced his unpleasant task a thought suddenly struck him,
and he laboured away cheerfully and hopefully. After cutting up the
animal into quarters he threw the head, the lower joints of the legs,
and the offal, from the window. The hide he carried, with the four
quarters, into his kitchen, and there concealed it under the pile of
straw which served for his bed.
When the dinner was over, and the usual carousal had begun, and he knew
there was no chance of any of the freebooters coming into the room, he
spread out the hide on the floor, cut off the edges, and trimmed it up
till it was nearly circular in form, and then began to cut a strip two
inches wide round and round till he reached the centre. This gave him a
thong of over a hundred feet long. Tying one end to a ring in the wall
he twisted the long strip until it assumed the form of a rope, which
was, he was sure, strong enough to bear many times his weight.
This part of the work was done after the freebooters had retired to
rest. When he had finished cutting the hide he went in as usual and sat
down with them as they drank, as he wished to appear contented with his
position. The freebooters were discussing an attack upon a village some
thirty miles away. It lay in a secluded position, and had so far escaped
pillage either by the armies or wandering bands. The captain said he had
learned that the principal farmer was a well-to-do man with a large herd
of cattle, some good horses, and a well stocked house. It was finally
agreed that the band should the next day carry out another raid which
had already been decided upon, and that they should on the day following
that sack and burn Glogau.
As soon as the majority of the band had started in the morning Malcolm
made his way with his rope to the back of the castle, fastened it to the
window, and launched himself over the rock, which, although too steep
to climb, was not perpendicular; and holding by the rope Malcolm had
no difficulty in lowering himself down. He had before starting taken
a brace of pistols and a sword from the heap of weapons which the
freebooters had collected in their raids, and as soon as he reached the
ground he struck off through the wood.
Enough had been said during the conversation the night before to
indicate the direction in which Glogau lay, and he determined, in the
first place, to warn the inhabitants of the village of the fate which
the freebooters intended for them.
He walked miles before seeing a single person in the deserted fields. He
had long since left the wood, and was now traversing the open country,
frequently turning round to examine the country around him, for at
any moment after he had left, his absence from the castle might be
discovered, and the pursuit begun. He hoped, however, that two or three
hours at least would elapse before the discovery was made.
He had, before starting, piled high the fire in the hall, and had placed
plenty of logs for the purpose of replenishing it close at hand. He put
tankards on the board, and with them a large jug full of wine, so that
the freebooters would have no occasion to call for him, and unless they
wanted him they would be unlikely to look into the kitchen. Except when
occasionally breaking into a walk to get breath, he ran steadily on.
It was not until he had gone nearly ten miles that he saw a goatherd
tending a few goats, and from him he learned the direction of Glogau,
and was glad to find he had not gone very far out of the direct line.
At last, after asking the way several times, he arrived within a short
distance of the village. The ground had now become undulating, and the
slopes were covered with trees. The village lay up a valley, and it
was evident that the road he was travelling was but little frequented,
ending probably at the village itself. Proceeding for nearly two miles
through a wood he came suddenly upon Glogau.
It stood near the head of the valley, which was here free of trees,
and some cultivated fields lay around it. The houses were surrounded
by fruit trees, and an air of peace and tranquillity prevailed such as
Malcolm had not seen before since he left his native country. One house
was much larger than the rest; several stacks stood in the rick yard,
and the large stables and barns gave a proof of the prosperity of its
owner. The war which had already devastated a great part of Germany had
passed by this secluded hamlet.
No signs of work were to be seen, the village was as still and quiet as
if it was deserted. Suddenly Malcolm remembered that it was the Sabbath,
which, though always kept strictly by the Scotch and Swedish soldiers
when in camp, for the most part passed unobserved when they were engaged
in active service. Malcolm turned his steps towards the house; as he
neared it he heard the sound of singing within. The door was open, and
he entered and found himself on the threshold of a large apartment in
which some twenty men and twice as many women and children were standing
singing a hymn which was led by a venerable pastor who stood at the head
of the room, with a powerfully built elderly man, evidently the master
of the house, near him.
The singing was not interrupted by the entrance of the newcomer. Many
eyes were cast in his direction, but seeing that their leaders went on
unmoved, the little congregation continued their hymn with great fervour
and force. When they had done the pastor prayed for some time, and then
dismissed the congregation with his blessing. They filed out in a quiet
and orderly way, but not until the last had left did the master of the
house show any sign of observing Malcolm, who had taken his place near
the door.
Then he said gravely, “Strangers do not often find their way to Glogau,
and in truth we can do without them, for a stranger in these times too
often means a foe; but you are young, my lad, though strong enough to
bear weapons, and can mean us no ill. What is it that brings you to our
quiet village?”
“I have, sir, but this morning escaped from the hands of the freebooters
at Wolfsburg, and I come to warn you that last night I heard them agree
to attack and sack your village tomorrow; therefore, before pursuing my
own way, which is to the camp of the Swedish king, in whose service I
am, I came hither to warn you of their intention.”
Exclamations of alarm arose from the females of the farmer's family, who
were sitting at the end of the room. The farmer waved his hand and the
women were instantly silent.
“This is bad news, truly,” he said gravely; “hitherto God has protected
our village and suffered us to worship Him in our own way in peace and
in quiet in spite of the decrees of emperors and princes. This gang
of Wolfsburg have long been a scourge to the country around it, and
terrible are the tales we have heard of their violence and cruelty.
I have for weeks feared that sooner or later they would extend their
ravages even to this secluded spot.”
“And, indeed, I thank you, brave youth, for the warning you have given
us, which will enable us to send our womenkind, our cattle and horses,
to a place of safety before these scourges of God arrive here. Gretchen,
place food and wine before this youth who has done us so great a
service; doubtless he is hungry and thirsty, for 'tis a long journey
from Wolfsburg hither.”
“What think you, father, shall I warn the men at once of the coming
danger, or shall I let them sleep quietly this Sabbath night for the
last time in their old homes?”
“What time, think you, will these marauders leave their hold?” the
pastor asked Malcolm.
“They will probably start by daybreak,” Malcolm said, “seeing that the
journey is a long one; but this is not certain, as they may intend
to remain here for the night, and to return with their plunder on the
following day to the castle.”
“But, sir,” he went on, turning to the farmer, “surely you will not
abandon your home and goods thus tamely to these freebooters. You have
here, unless I am mistaken, fully twenty stout men capable of bearing
arms; the marauders number but thirty in all, and they always leave at
least five to guard the castle and two as sentries over the horses; thus
you will not have more than twenty-three to cope with. Had they, as they
expected, taken you by surprise, this force would have been ample to
put down all resistance here; but as you will be prepared for them, and
will, therefore, take them by surprise, it seems to me that you should
be able to make a good fight of it, stout men-at-arms though the
villains be.”
“You speak boldly, sir, for one but a boy in years,” the pastor said;
“it is lawful, nay it is right to defend one's home against these
lawless pillagers and murderers, but as you say, evil though their ways
are, these freebooters are stout men-at-arms, and we have heard that
they have taken a terrible vengeance on the villages which have ventured
to oppose them.”
“I am a Scottish officer in the King of Sweden's army,” Malcolm said,
“and fought at Schiefelbrune and New Brandenburg, and in the fight when
the Imperialists tried to relieve Colberg, and having, I hope, done my
duty in three such desperate struggles against the Imperialist veterans,
I need not shrink from an encounter with these freebooters. If you
decide to defend the village I am ready to strike a blow at them, for
they have held me captive for five days, and have degraded me by making
me cook for them.”
A slight titter was heard among the younger females at the indignant
tone in which Malcolm spoke of his enforced culinary work.
“And you are truly one of those Scottish soldiers of the Swedish hero
who fight so stoutly for the Faith and of whose deeds we have heard so
much!” the pastor said. “Truly we are glad to see you. Our prayers have
not been wanting night and morning for the success of the champions of
the Reformed Faith. What say you, my friend? Shall we take the advice of
this young soldier and venture our lives for the defence of our homes?”
“That will we,” the farmer said warmly. “He is used to war, and can give
us good advice. As far as strength goes, our men are not wanting. Each
has his sword and pike, and there are four or five arquebuses in the
village. Yes, if there be a chance of success, even of the slightest, we
will do our best as men in defence of our homes.”