In spite of the urgent entreaties of Gustavus and the pressing peril of
Magdeburg, the wavering Duke of Brandenburg could not bring himself
to join the Swedes. He delivered Spandau over to them, but would do no
more. The Swedish army accordingly marched to Berlin and invested his
capital. The duke sent his wife to Gustavus to beseech him to draw off
his army and allow him to remain neutral; but Gustavus would not listen
to his entreaties, and insisted, as the only condition upon which he
would raise the siege, that the duke should ally himself with him, and
that the troops of Brandenburg should join his army.
These conditions the duke was obliged to accept, but in the meantime his
long hesitation and delay had caused the loss of Magdeburg, which after
a gallant defence was stormed by the troops of Pappenheim and Tilly on
the 10th of May. The ferocious Tilly had determined upon a deed which
would, he believed, frighten Germany into submission; he ordered that no
quarter should be given, and for five days the city was handed over to
the troops.
History has no record since the days of Attila of so frightful a
massacre. Neither age nor sex was spared, and 30,000 men, women, and
children were ruthlessly massacred. The result for a time justified the
anticipations of the ferocious leader. The terrible deed sent a shudder
of horror and terror through Protestant Germany. It seemed, too, as if
the catastrophe might have been averted had the Swedes shown diligence
and marched to the relief of the city; for in such a time men were not
inclined to discuss how much of the blame rested upon the shoulders of
the Duke of Brandenburg, who was, in fact, alone responsible for the
delay of the Swedes.
Many of the princes and free towns which had hitherto been staunch to
the cause of Protestantism at once hastened to make their peace with
the emperor. For a time the sack of Magdeburg greatly strengthened the
Imperialist cause. No sooner did the news reach the ears of the Duke
of Brandenburg than his fears overcame him, and he wrote to Gustavus
withdrawing from the treaty he had made, and saying that as Spandau had
only been delivered to him in order that he might march to the relief of
Magdeburg he was now bound in honour to restore it.
Gustavus at once ordered Spandau to be evacuated by his troops, and
again marched with the army against Berlin, which he had but a few days
before left. Here he again dictated terms, which the duke was forced to
agree to.
The Swedish army now marched to Old Brandenburg, thirty-four miles west
of Berlin, and there remained for some time waiting until some expected
reinforcements should reach it.
The place was extremely unhealthy, and great numbers died from malaria
and fever, thirty of Munro's musketeers dying in a single week. During
this time the king was negotiating with the Elector of Saxony and the
Landgrave of Hesse. These were the two most powerful of the Protestant
princes in that part of Germany, and Tilly resolved to reduce them to
obedience before the army of Gustavus was in a position to move forward,
for at present his force was too small to enable him to take the field
against the united armies of Tilly and Pappenheim.
He first fell upon the Landgrave of Hesse, and laid Thuringen waste with
fire and sword. Frankenhausen was plundered and burned to the ground.
Erfurt saved itself from a similar fate by the payment of a large sum of
money, and by engaging to supply great stores of provisions for the use
of the Imperial army. The Landgrave of Hesse-Cassel was next summoned
by Tilly, who threatened to carry fire and sword through his dominions
unless he would immediately disband his troops, pay a heavy contribution
and receive the Imperial troops into his cities and fortresses; but the
landgrave refused to accept the terms.
Owing to the unhealthiness of the district round Old Brandenburg,
Gustavus raised his camp there, and marched forward to Werben near the
junction of the Elbe with the Havel. He was joined there by his young
queen, Maria Eleonora, with a reinforcement of 8000 men, and by the
Marquis of Hamilton with 6200, for the most part Scotch, who had been
raised by him with the consent of Charles I, to whom the marquis was
master of the horse.
Werben was distant but a few miles from Magdeburg, and Pappenheim, who
commanded the troops in that neighbourhood, seeing that Gustavus was now
in a position to take the field against him, sent an urgent message to
Tilly for assistance; and the Imperial general, who was on the point of
attacking the Landgrave of Hesse-Cassel, at once marched with his army
and effected a junction with Pappenheim, their combined force being
greatly superior to that of Gustavus even after the latter had received
his reinforcements.
Malcolm had not accompanied the army in its march from Old Brandenburg.
He had been prostrated by fever, and although he shook off the attack it
left him so weak and feeble that he was altogether unfit for duty.
The army was still lying in its swampy quarters, and the leech who had
attended him declared that he could never recover his strength in such
an unhealthy air. Nigel Graheme, who had now rejoined the regiment cured
of his wound, reported the surgeon's opinion to Munro.
“I am not surprised,” the colonel said, “and there are many others in
the same state; but whither can I send them? The Elector of Brandenburg
is so fickle and treacherous that he may at any moment turn against us.”
“I was speaking to Malcolm,” Nigel replied, “and he said that he would
he could go for a time to recruit his health in that village among the
hills where he had the fight with the freebooters who made him captive.
He said he was sure of a cordial welcome there, and it is but three
days' march from here.”
“'Tis an out-of-the-way place,” Munro said, “and if we move west
we shall be still further removed from it. There are Imperial bands
everywhere harrying the country unguarded by us, and one of these might
at any moment swoop down into that neighbourhood.”
“That is true; but, after all, it would be better that he should run
that risk than sink from weakness as so many have done here after
getting through the first attack of fever.”
“That is so, Nigel, and if you and Malcolm prefer that risk to the other
I will not say you nay; but what is good for him is good for others, and
I will ask the surgeon to make me a list of twenty men who are strong
enough to journey by easy stages, and who yet absolutely require to get
out of this poisonous air to enable them to effect their recovery. We
will furnish them with one of the baggage wagons of the regiment, so
that they can ride when they choose. Tell the paymaster to give each
man in advance a month's pay, that they may have money to pay what they
need. Horses are scarce, so we can give them but two with the wagon, but
that will be sufficient as they will journey slowly. See that a steady
and experienced driver is told off with them. They had best start at
daybreak tomorrow morning.”
At the appointed time the wagon was in readiness, and those who had to
accompany Malcolm gathered round, together with many of their comrades
who had assembled to wish them Godspeed. The pikes and muskets, helmets
and breast pieces were placed in the wagon, and then the fever stricken
band formed up before it.
Munro, Nigel, and most of the officers came down to bid farewell to
Malcolm, and to wish him a speedy return in good health. Then he placed
himself at the head of the band and marched off, the wagon following in
the rear. Before they had been gone a mile several of the men had been
compelled to take their places in the wagon, and by the time three miles
had been passed the rest had one by one been forced to give in.
Malcolm was one of the last. He took his seat by the driver, and the
now heavily freighted wagon moved slowly across the country. A store of
provisions sufficient for several days had been placed in the wagon, and
after proceeding fifteen miles a halt was made at a deserted village,
and two of the houses in the best condition were taken possession of,
Malcolm and the sergeant of the party, a young fellow named Sinclair,
occupying the one, and the men taking up their quarters in another.
The next morning the benefit of the change and the removal from the
fever tainted air made itself already apparent. The distance performed
on foot was somewhat longer than on the preceding day; the men were in
better spirits, and marched with a brisker step than that with which
they had left the camp. At the end of the fourth day they approached the
wood in which the village was situated.
“I will go on ahead,” Malcolm said. “Our approach will probably have
been seen, and unless they know who we are we may meet with but a rough
welcome. Halt the wagon here until one returns with news that you may
proceed, for there may be pitfalls in the road.”
Malcolm had kept the horse on which he had ridden to Landsberg, and it
had been tied behind the wagon. During the last day's march he had been
strong enough to ride it. He now dismounted, and taking the bridle over
his arm he entered the wood. He examined the road cautiously as he went
along. He had gone about half way when the farmer with four of his men
armed with pikes suddenly appeared in the road before him.
“Who are you,” the farmer asked, “and what would you here?”
“Do you not remember me?” Malcolm said. “It is but three months since I
was here.”
“Bless me, it is our Scottish friend! Why, lad, I knew you not again, so
changed are you. Why, what has happened to you?”
“I have had the fever,” Malcolm said, “and have been like to die; but I
thought that a change to the pure air of your hills and woods here would
set me up. So I have travelled here to ask your hospitality.”
By this time the farmer had come up and had grasped Malcolm's hand.
“All that I have is yours,” he said warmly. “The lookout saw a wagon
coming across the plain with three or four men walking beside it, and he
thought that many more were seated in it; so thinking that this might be
a ruse of some freebooting band, I had the alarm bell rung, and prepared
to give them a hot reception.”
“I have brought some sick comrades with me,” Malcolm said. “I have no
thought of quartering them on you. That would be nigh as bad as the
arrival of a party of marauders, for they are getting strength, and
will, I warrant you, have keen appetites ere long; but we have brought
tents, and will pay for all we have.”
“Do not talk of payment,” the farmer said heartily. “As long as there is
flour in the storehouse and bacon on the beams, any Scottish soldier of
Gustavus is welcome to it, still more if they be comrades of thine.”
“Thanks, indeed,” Malcolm replied. “I left them at the edge of the wood,
for I knew not what welcome you might have prepared here; and seeing so
many men you might have shot at them before waiting to ask a question.”
“That is possible enough,” the farmer said, “for indeed we could hardly
look for friends. The men are all posted a hundred yards further on.”
The farmer ordered one of his men to go on and bring up the wagon, and
then with Malcolm walked on to the village. A call that all was right
brought out the defenders of the ambush. It had been arranged similarly
to that which had been so successful before, except that instead of the
pit, several strong ropes had been laid across the road, to be tightened
breast high as soon as an enemy came close to them.
“These are not as good as the pit,” the farmer said as they passed them;
“but as we have to use the road sometimes we could not keep a pit
here, which, moreover, might have given way and injured any one from a
neighbouring village who might be riding hither. We have made a strong
stockade of beams among the underwood on either side, so that none could
break through into the wood from the path.”
“That is good,” Malcolm said; “but were I you I would dig a pit across
the road some twelve feet wide, and would cover it with a stout door
with a catch, so that it would bear wagons crossing, but when the catch
is drawn it should rest only on some light supports below, and would
give way at once if a weight came on it. It would, of course, be covered
over with turf. It will take some time to make, but it will add greatly
to your safety.”
“It shall be done,” the farmer said. “Wood is in plenty, and some of my
men are good carpenters. I will set about it at once.”
On arriving at the village Malcolm was cordially welcomed by the
farmer's wife and daughters. The guest chamber was instantly prepared
for him and refreshments laid on the table, while the maids, under the
direction of the farmer's wife, at once began to cook a bounteous meal
in readiness for the arrival of the soldiers. A spot was chosen on some
smooth turf under the shade of trees for the erection of the tents, and
trusses of clean straw carried there for bedding.
Malcolm as he sat in the cool chamber in the farm house felt the change
delightful after the hot dusty journey across the plain. There was quite
an excitement in the little village when the wagon drove up. The men
lifted the arms and baggage from the wagon. The women offered fruit and
flagons of wine, and fresh cool water, to the soldiers. There was not
only general pleasure throughout the village caused by the novelty of
the arrival of the party from the outer world, but a real satisfaction
in receiving these men who had fought so bravely against the oppressors
of the Protestants of Germany. There was also the feeling that so long
as this body of soldiers might remain in the village they would be able
to sleep in peace and security, safe from the attacks of any marauding
band. The tents were soon pitched by the peasants under the direction of
Sergeant Sinclair, straw was laid down in them, and the canvas raised to
allow the air to sweep through them.
Very grateful were the weary men for the kindness with which they were
received, and even the weakest felt that they should soon recover their
strength.
In an hour two men came up from the farm house carrying a huge pot
filled with strong soup. Another brought a great dish of stew. Women
carried wooden platters, bowls of stewed fruit, and loaves of bread; and
the soldiers, seated upon the grass, fell to with an appetite such as
they had not experienced for weeks. With the meal was an abundant supply
of the rough but wholesome wine of the country.
To the Scottish soldiers after the hardships they had passed through,
this secluded valley seemed a perfect paradise. They had nought to do
save to eat their meals, to sleep on the turf in the shade, or to wander
in the woods and gardens free to pick what fruit they fancied. Under
these circumstances they rapidly picked up strength, and in a week after
their arrival would hardly have been recognized as the feeble band who
had left the Swedish camp at Old Brandenburg.
On Sunday the pastor arrived. He did not live permanently at the
village, but ministered to the inhabitants of several villages scattered
among the hills, holding services in them by turns, and remaining a few
days in each. As the congregation was too large for the room in the farm
house the service was held in the open air. The Scotch soldiers were all
present, and joined heartily in the singing, although many of them were
ignorant of the language, and sang the words of Scotch hymns to the
German tunes.
Even the roughest of them, and those who had been longest away from
their native country, were much moved by the service. The hush and
stillness, the air of quiet and peace which prevailed, the fervour with
which all joined in the simple service, took them back in thought to the
days of their youth in quiet Scottish glens, and many a hand was passed
hastily across eyes which had not been moistened for many a year.
The armour and arms were now cleaned and polished, and for a short time
each day Malcolm exercised them. The martial appearance and perfect
discipline of the Scots struck the villagers with admiration the first
time they saw them under arms, and they earnestly begged Malcolm that
they might receive from him and Sergeant Sinclair some instruction in
drill.
Accordingly every evening when work was done the men of the village were
formed up and drilled. Several of the soldiers took their places with
them in the ranks in order to aid them by their example. After the drill
there was sword and pike exercise, and as most of the men had already
some knowledge of the use of arms they made rapid progress, and felt an
increased confidence in their power to defend the village against the
attacks of any small bands of plunderers. To Malcolm the time passed
delightfully. His kind hosts vied with each other in their efforts to
make him comfortable, and it was in vain that he assured them that he
no longer needed attention and care. A seat was always placed for him
in the coolest nook in the room, fresh grapes and other fruit stood in
readiness on a table hard by. The farmer's daughters, busy as they were
in their household avocations, were always ready to sit and talk with
him when he was indoors, and of an evening to sing him the country
melodies.
At the end of a fortnight the men were all fit for duty again, but the
hospitable farmer would not hear of their leaving, and as news from
time to time reached them from the outer world, and Malcolm learned that
there was no chance of any engagement for a time between the hostile
armies, he was only too glad to remain.
Another fortnight passed, and Malcolm reluctantly gave the word that on
the morrow the march must be recommenced. A general feeling of sorrow
reigned in the village when it was known that their guests were about to
depart, for the Scottish soldiers had made themselves extremely popular.
They were ever ready to assist in the labours of the village. They
helped to pick the apples from the heavily laden trees, they assisted to
thrash out the corn, and in every way strove to repay their entertainers
for the kindness they had shown them.
Of an evening their camp had been the rendezvous of the whole village.
There alternately the soldiers and the peasants sang their national
songs, and joined in hearty choruses. Sometimes there were dances, for
many of the villagers played on various instruments; and altogether
Glogau had never known such a time of festivity and cheerfulness before.
Late in the evening of the day before they had fixed for their departure
the pastor rode into the village.
“I have bad news,” he said. “A party of Pappenheim's dragoons, three
hundred strong, are raiding in the district on the other side of the
hills. A man came in just as I mounted my horse, saying that it was
expected they would attack Mansfeld, whose count is a sturdy Protestant.
The people were determined to resist to the last, in spite of the fate
of Magdeburg and Frankenhausen, but I fear that their chance of success
is a small one; but they say they may as well die fighting as be
slaughtered in cold blood.”
“Is Mansfeld fortified?” Malcolm asked.
“It has a wall,” the pastor replied, “but of no great strength. The
count's castle, which stands on a rock adjoining it, might defend itself
for some time, but I question whether it can withstand Pappenheim's
veterans.
“Mansfeld itself is little more than a village. I should not say it
had more than a thousand inhabitants, and can muster at best about two
hundred and fifty men capable of bearing arms.”
“How far is it from here?” Malcolm asked after a pause.
“Twenty-four miles by the bridle path across the hills.”
“When were the Imperialists expected to arrive?”
“They were ten miles away this morning,” the pastor replied; “but as
they were plundering and burning as they went they will not probably
arrive before Mansfeld before the morning. Some of the more timid
citizens were leaving, and many were sending away their wives and
families.”
“Then,” Malcolm said, “I will march thither at once. Twenty good
soldiers may make all the difference, and although I have, of course, no
orders for such an emergency, the king can hardly blame me even if the
worst happens for striking a blow against the Imperialists here. Will
you give me a man,” he asked the farmer, “to guide us across the hills?”
“That will I right willingly,” the farmer said; “but it seems to me a
desperate service to embark in. These townspeople are of little good for
fighting, and probably intend only to make a show of resistance in order
to procure better terms. The count himself is a brave nobleman, but I
fear that the enterprise is a hopeless one.”
“Hopeless or not,” Malcolm said, “I will undertake it, and will at once
put the men under arms. The wagon and horses with the baggage I will
leave here till I return, that is if we should ever come back again.”
A tap of the drum and the soldiers came running in hastily from various
cottages where they were spending their last evening with their village
friends, wondering at the sudden summons to arms. As soon as they had
fallen in, Malcolm joined them.
“Men,” he said, “I am sorry to disturb you on your last evening here,
but there is business on hand. A party of Pappenheim's dragoons are
about to attack the town of Mansfeld, where the people are of the
Reformed Religion. The siege will begin in the morning, and ere that
time we must be there. We have all got fat and lazy, and a little
fighting will do us good.”
The thought of a coming fray reconciled the men to their departure
from their quiet and happy resting place. Armour was donned, buckles
fastened, and arms inspected, and in half an hour, after a cordial adieu
from their kind hosts, the detachment marched off, their guide with a
lighted torch leading the way. The men were in light marching order,
having left everything superfluous behind them in the wagon; and they
marched briskly along over hill and through forest without a halt, till
at three o'clock in the morning the little town of Mansfeld, with its
castle rising above it, was visible before them in the first light of
morning.
As they approached the walls a musketoon was fired, and the alarm bell
of the church instantly rang out. Soon armed men made their appearance
on the walls. Fearing that the burghers might fire before waiting to
ascertain who were the newcomers, Malcolm halted his band, and advanced
alone towards the walls.
“Who are you who come in arms to the peaceful town of Mansfeld?” an
officer asked from the wall.
“I am an officer of his Swedish Majesty, Gustavus, and hearing that
the town was threatened with attack by the Imperialists, I have marched
hither with my detachment to aid in the defence.”
A loud cheer broke from the walls. Not only was the reinforcement a most
welcome one, small as it was, for the valour of the Scottish soldiers
of the King of Sweden was at that time the talk of all Germany, but the
fact that a detachment of these redoubted troops had arrived seemed a
proof that the main army of the Swedish king could not be far away.
The gates were at once opened, and Malcolm with his band marched into
Mansfield.