“Will it please your worship at once to repair to the castle?” the
leader of the townspeople said. “The count has just sent down to inquire
into the reason of the alarm.”
“Yes,” Malcolm replied, “I will go at once. In the meantime, sir, I
pray you to see to the wants of my soldiers, who have taken a long night
march and will be none the worse for some refreshment. Hast seen aught
of the Imperialists?”
“They are at a village but a mile distant on the other side of the
town,” the citizen said. “Yesterday we counted eighteen villages in
flames, and the peasants who have come in say that numbers have been
slain by them.”
“There is little mercy to be expected from the butchers of Magdeburg,”
Malcolm replied; “the only arguments they will listen to are steel and
lead, and we will not be sparing of these.”
A murmur of assent rang through the townsfolk who had gathered round,
and then the burgomaster himself led Malcolm up the ascent to the
castle. The news that the newcomers were a party of Scots had already
been sent up to the castle, and as Malcolm entered the gateway the count
came forward to welcome him.
“You are welcome indeed, fair sir,” he said. “It seems almost as if you
had arrived from the clouds to our assistance, for we had heard that the
Swedish king and his army were encamped around Old Brandenburg.
“His majesty has moved west, I hear,” Malcolm said; “but we have been a
month away from the camp. My detachment consisted of a body of invalids
who came up among the hills to get rid of the fever which was playing
such havoc among our ranks. I am glad to say that all are restored, and
fit as ever for a meeting with the Imperialists. I heard but yestereven
that you were expecting an attack, and have marched all night to be here
in time. My party is a small one, but each man can be relied upon; and
when it comes to hard fighting twenty in good soldiers may turn the
day.”
“You are heartily welcome, sir, and I thank you much for coming to our
aid. The townspeople are determined to do their best, but most of them
have little skill in arms. I have a score or two of old soldiers here in
the castle, and had hoped to be able to hold this to the end; but truly
I despaired of a successful defence of the town. But enter, I pray you;
the countess will be glad to welcome you.”
Malcolm accompanied the count to the banquet hall of the castle. The
countess, a gentle and graceful woman, was already there; for indeed but
few in Mansfeld had closed an eye that night, for it was possible that
the Imperialists might attack without delay. By her side stood her
daughter, a girl of about fourteen years old. Malcolm had already stated
his name to the count, and the latter now presented him to his wife.
“We have heard so much of the Scottish soldiers,” she said as she held
out her hand, over which Malcolm bent deeply, “that we have all been
curious to see them, little dreaming that a band of them would appear
here like good angels in our hour of danger.”
“It was a fortunate accident which found me within reach when I heard of
the approach of the Imperialists. The names of the Count and Countess
of Mansfeld are so well known and so highly esteemed through Protestant
Germany that I was sure that the king would approve of my hastening to
lend what aid I might to you without orders from him.”
“I see you have learned to flatter,” the countess said smiling. “This is
my daughter Thekla.”
“I am glad to see you,” the girl said; “but I am a little disappointed.
I had thought that the Scots were such big fierce soldiers, and you
are not very big--not so tall as papa; and you do not look fierce at
all--not half so fierce as my cousin Caspar, who is but a boy.”
“That is very rude, Thekla,” her mother said reprovingly, while Malcolm
laughed gaily.
“You are quite right, Fraulein Thekla. I know I do not look very fierce,
but I hope when my moustache grows I shall come up more nearly to your
expectations. As to my height, I have some years to grow yet, seeing
that I am scarce eighteen, and perhaps no older than your cousin.”
“Have you recently joined, sir?” the countess asked.
“I have served through the campaign,” Malcolm replied, “and have seen
some hard knocks given, as you may imagine when I tell you that I was at
the siege of New Brandenburg.”
“When your soldiers fought like heroes, and, as I heard, all died sword
in hand save two or three officers who managed to escape.”
“I was one of the three, countess; but the tale is a long one, and can
be told after we have done with the Imperialists. Now, sir,” he went on,
turning to the count, “I am at your orders, and will take post with my
men at any point that you may think fit.”
“Before doing that,” the count said, “you must join us at breakfast. You
must be hungry after your long march, and as I have been all night in
my armour I shall do justice to it myself. You will, of course, take
up your abode here. As to other matters I have done my best, and the
townspeople were yesterday all told off to their places on the walls.
I should think it were best that your band were stationed in the
marketplace as a reserve, they could then move to any point which might
be seriously threatened. Should the Imperialists enter the town the
citizens have orders to fall back here fighting. All their most valuable
goods were sent up here yesterday, together with such of their wives
and families as have not taken flight, so that there will be nothing to
distract them from their duty.”
“That is good,” Malcolm said. “The thought that one is fighting for
home and family must nerve a man in the defence, but when the enemy
once breaks in he would naturally think of home first and hasten away to
defend it to the last, instead of obeying orders and falling back with
his comrades in good order and discipline.”
The meal was a cheerful one. Malcolm related more in detail how he and
his detachment happened to be so far removed from the army.
Just as the meal came to an end a drum beat in the town and the alarm
bells began to ring. The count and Malcolm sallied out at once to the
outer wall, and saw a small party of officers riding from the village
occupied by the Imperialists towards the town.
“Let us descend,” the count said. “I presume they are going to demand
our surrender.”
They reached the wall of the town just as the Imperialist officers
approached the gate.
“In the name of his majesty the emperor,” one of them cried out, “I
command you to open the gate and to surrender to his good will and
pleasure.”
“The smoking villages which I see around me,” Count Mansfeld replied,
“are no hopeful sign of any good will or pleasure on the part of his
majesty towards us. As to surrendering, we will rather die. But I am
willing to pay a fair ransom for the town if you will draw off your
troops and march away.”
“Beware, sir!” the officer said. “I have a force here sufficient to
compel obedience, and I warn you of the fate which will befall all
within these walls if you persist in refusing to admit us.”
“I doubt not as to their fate,” the count replied; “there are plenty of
examples before us of the tender mercy which your master's troops show
towards the towns you capture.
“Once again I offer you a ransom for the town. Name the sum, and if it
be in reason such as I and the townspeople can pay, it shall be yours;
but open the gates to you we will not.”
“Very well,” the officer said; “then your blood be on your own heads.”
And turning his horse he rode with his companions back towards the
village.
On their arrival there a bustle was seen to prevail. A hundred horsemen
rode off and took post on an eminence near the town, ready to cut off
the retreat of any who might try to escape, and to enter the town when
the gates were forced open. The other two hundred men advanced on foot
in a close body towards the principal gate.
“They will try and blow it open with petards,” Malcolm said. “Half of
my men are musketeers and good shots, and I will, with your permission,
place them on the wall to aid the townsfolk there, for if the gate is
blown open and the enemy force their way in it will go hard with us.”
The count assented, and Malcolm posted his musketeers on the wall,
ordering Sergeant Sinclair with the remainder to set to work to erect
barricades across the street leading from the gate, so that, in case
this were blown in, such a stand might be made against the Imperialists
as would give the townspeople time to rally from the walls and to gather
there.
The Imperialists heralded their advance by opening fire with pistols and
musketoons against the wall, and the defenders at once replied. So heavy
was the fire that the head of the column wavered, many of the leading
files being at once shot down, but, encouraged by their officers, they
rallied, and pushed forward at a run. The fire of the townspeople at
once became hurried and irregular, but the Scots picked off their men
with steady aim. The leader of the Imperialists, who carried a petard,
advanced boldly to the edge of the ditch. The fosse was shallow and
contained but little water, and he at once dashed into it and waded
across, for the drawbridge had, of course, been raised. He climbed up
the bank, and was close to the gate, when Malcolm, leaning far over
the wall, discharged his pistol at him. The ball glanced from the steel
armour.
Malcolm drew his other pistol and again fired, this time more
effectually, for the ball struck between the shoulder and the neck at
the junction of the breast and back pieces, and passed down into the
body of the Austrian, who, dropping the petard, fell dead; but a number
of his men were close behind him.
“Quick, lads!” Malcolm cried. “Put your strength to this parapet. It is
old and rotten. Now, all together! Shove!”
The soldiers bent their strength against the parapet, while some of the
townspeople, thrusting their pikes into the rotten mortar between the
stones, prised them up with all their strength. The parapet tottered,
and then with a tremendous crash fell, burying five or six of the
Imperialists and the petard beneath the ruins.
A shout of exultation rose from the defenders, and the Imperialists
at once withdrew at full speed. They halted out of gunshot, and then
a number of men were sent back to the village, whence they returned
carrying ladders, some of which had been collected the day before from
the neighbouring villages and others manufactured during the night.
The enemy now divided into three parties, which advanced simultaneously
against different points of the wall.
Notwithstanding the storm of shot poured upon them as they advanced,
they pressed forward until they reached the wall and planted their
ladders, and then essayed to climb; but at each point the stormers were
stoutly met with pike and sword, while the musketeers from the flanking
towers poured their bullets into them.
The troops proved themselves worthy of their reputation, for it was not
until more than fifty had fallen that they desisted from the attempt and
drew off.
“Now we shall have a respite,” Malcolm said. “If there are no more of
them in the neighbourhood methinks they will retire altogether, but
if they have any friends with cannon anywhere within reach they will
probably send for them and renew the attack.”
The day passed quietly. Parties of horsemen were seen leaving the
village to forage and plunder the surrounding country, but the main body
remained quietly there. The next day there was still no renewal of the
attack, but as the enemy remained in occupation of the village Malcolm
guessed that they must be waiting for the arrival of reinforcements.
The following afternoon a cloud of dust was seen upon the plain, and
presently a column of infantry some four hundred strong, with three
cannon, could be made out. The townspeople now wavered in their
determination. A few were still for resistance, but the majority held
that they could not attempt to withstand an assault by so strong a
force, and that it was better to make the best terms they could with the
enemy.
A parlementaire was accordingly despatched to the Imperialists asking
what terms would be granted should the place surrender.
“We will grant no terms whatever,” the colonel in command of the
Imperialists said. “The town is at our mercy, and we will do as we
will with it and all within it; but tell Count Mansfeld that if he will
surrender the castle as well as the town at once, and without striking
another blow, his case shall receive favourable consideration.”
“That will not do,” the count said. “They either guarantee our lives
or they do not. I give not up my castle on terms like these, but I
will exercise no pressure on the townspeople. If they choose to defend
themselves till the last I will fight here with them; if they choose to
surrender they can do so; and those who differ from their fellows and
put no faith in Tilly's wolves can enter the castle with me.”
The principal inhabitants of the town debated the question hotly.
Malcolm lost patience with them, and said: “Are you mad as well as
stupid? Do you not see the smoking villages round you? Do you not
remember the fate of Magdeburg, New Brandenburg, and the other towns
which have made a resistance? You have chosen to resist. It was open to
you to have fled when you heard the Imperialists were coming. You could
have opened the gates then with some hope at least of your lives; but
you decided to resist. You have killed some fifty or sixty of their
soldiers. You have repulsed them from a place which they thought to
take with scarce an effort. You have compelled them to send for
reinforcements and guns. And now you are talking of opening the gates
without even obtaining a promise that your lives shall be spared. This
is the extremity of folly, and all I can say is, if you take such a step
you will well deserve your fate.”
Malcolm's indignant address had its effect, and after a short discussion
the townspeople again placed themselves at the count's disposal, and
said that they would obey his orders.
“I will give no orders,” the count said. “My Scottish friend here agrees
with me that it is useless to try to defend the town. We might repulse
several attacks, but in the end they would surely break in, for the
walls are old and weak, and will crumble before their cannon. Were there
any hope of relief one would defend them to the last, but as it is
it would be but a waste of blood, for many would be slain both in
the defence and before they could retreat to the castle; therefore we
propose at once to withdraw. We doubt not that we can hold the castle.
Any who like to remain in their houses and trust to the tender mercy of
Tilly's wolves can do so.”
There was no more hesitation, and a cannonball, the first which the
Imperialists had fired, at that moment crashed into a house hard by, and
sharpened their decision wonderfully.
“I have no great store of provisions in the castle,” the count said,
“and although I deem it not likely that we shall have to stand a long
siege we must be prepared for it. There are already more than 700
of your wives and children there, therefore while half of the force
continue to show themselves upon the walls, and so deter the enemy from
attempting an assault until they have opened some breaches, let the rest
carry up provisions to the castle. Any houses from which the women have
fled are at once to be broken open. All that we leave behind the enemy
will take, and the less we leave for them the better; therefore all
stores and magazines of food and wine must be considered as public
property. Let the men at once be divided into two bodies--the one to
guard the walls, the other to search for and carry up provisions. They
can be changed every three or four hours.”
The resolution was taken and carried into effect without delay. Most of
the horses and carts in the town had left with the fugitives, those
that remained were at once set to work. The carts were laden with large
barrels of wine and sacks of flour, while the men carried sides of
bacon, kegs of butter, and other portable articles on their heads. The
Imperialists, seeing the movement up the steep road to the castle gate,
opened fire with their arquebuses, but the defenders of the wall replied
so hotly that they were forced to retire out of range. The cannon played
steadily all day, and by nightfall two breaches had been effected in the
wall and the gate had been battered down.
But by this time an ample store of provisions had been collected in the
castle and as the Imperialists were seen to form up for the assault the
trumpet was sounded, and at the signal the whole of the defenders of the
walls left their posts and fell back to the castle, leaving the deserted
town at the mercy of the enemy. The Imperialists raised a shout of
triumph as they entered the breaches and found them undefended, and
when once assured that the town was deserted they broke their ranks and
scattered to plunder.
It was now quite dark, and many of them dragging articles of furniture
into the streets made great bonfires to light them at their work
of plunder. But they had soon reason to repent having done so, for
immediately the flames sprang up and lighted the streets, flashes ran
round the battlements of the castle, and a heavy fire was opened into
the streets, killing many of the soldiers. Seeing the danger of thus
exposing the men to the fire from the castle, the Imperialist commander
issued orders at once that all fires should be extinguished, that anyone
setting fire to a house should be instantly hung, and that no lights
were to be lit in the houses whose windows faced the castle.
Foreseeing the possibility of an attack from the castle, the Austrians
placed a hundred men at the foot of the road leading up to it, and laid
their three cannon loaded to the muzzle to command it.
“Have you not,” Malcolm asked the count, “some means of exit from the
castle besides the way into the town?”
“Yes,” the count said, “there is a footpath down the rock on the other
side.”
“Then,” Malcolm said, “as soon as they are fairly drunk, which will be
before midnight, let us fall upon them from the other side. Leave fifty
of your oldest men with half a dozen veteran soldiers to defend the
gateway against a sudden attack; with the rest we can issue out, and
marching round, enter by the gate and breaches, sweeping the streets as
we go, and then uniting, burst through any guard they may have placed to
prevent a sortie, and so regain the castle.”
The count at once assented. In a short time shouts, songs, the sound
of rioting and quarrels, arose from the town, showing that revelry was
general. At eleven o'clock the men in the castle were mustered, fifty
were told off to the defence with five experienced soldiers, an officer
of the count being left in command. The rest sallied through a little
door at the back of the castle and noiselessly descended the steep path.
On arriving at the bottom they were divided into three bodies. Malcolm
with his Scots and fifty of the townspeople formed one. Count Mansfeld
took the command of another, composed of his own soldiers and fifty more
of the townspeople. The third consisted of eighty of the best fighting
men of the town under their own leaders. These were to enter by the
gate, while the other two parties came in by the breaches. The moment
the attack began the defenders of the castle were to open as rapid
a fire as they could upon the foot of the road so as to occupy the
attention of the enemy's force there, and to lead them to anticipate a
sortie.
The breach by which Malcolm was to enter was the farthest from the
castle, and his command would, therefore, be the last in arriving at its
station. When he reached it he ordered the trumpeters who accompanied
him to sound, and at the signal the three columns rushed into the town
uttering shouts of “Gustavus! Gustavus!”
The Imperialists in the houses near were slaughtered with scarcely
any resistance. They were for the most part intoxicated, and such as
retained their senses were paralysed at the sudden attack, and panic
stricken at the shouts, which portended the arrival of a relieving
force from the army of the King of Sweden. As the bands pressed forward,
slaying all whom they came upon, the resistance became stronger; but
the three columns were all headed by parties of pikemen who advanced
steadily and in good order, bearing down all opposition, and leaving to
those behind them the task of slaying all found in the houses.
Lights flashed from the windows and partly lit up the streets, and the
Imperialist officers attempted to rally their men; but the Scottish
shouts, “A Hepburn! A Hepburn!” and the sight of their green scarves
added to the terror of the soldiers, who were convinced that the
terrible Green Brigade of the King of Sweden was upon them.
Hundreds were cut down after striking scarce a blow in their defence,
numbers fled to the walls and leapt over. The panic communicated itself
to the party drawn up to repel a sortie. Hearing the yells, screams,
and shouts, accompanied by the musketry approaching from three different
quarters of the town, while a steady fire from the castle indicated
that the defenders there might, at any moment, sally out upon them,
they stood for a time irresolute; but as the heads of the three columns
approached they lost heart, quitted their station, and withdrew in
a body by a street by which they avoided the approaching columns. On
arriving at the spot Malcolm found the guns deserted.
“The town is won now,” he said. “I will take my post here with my men in
case the Austrians should rally; do you with the rest scatter over the
town and complete the work, but bid them keep together in parties of
twenty.”
The force broke up and scattered through the town in their work of
vengeance. House after house was entered and searched, and all who were
found there put to the sword; but by this time most of those who were
not too drunk to fly had already made for the gates.
In half an hour not an Imperialist was left alive in the town. Then
guards were placed at the gate and breaches, and they waited till
morning. Not a sign of an Imperialist was to be seen on the plain, and
parties sallying out found that they had fled in the utmost disorder.
Arms, accoutrements, and portions of plunder lay scattered thickly
about, and it was clear that in the belief that the Swedish army was on
them, the Imperialists had fled panic stricken, and were now far away.
Upwards of two hundred bodies were found in the streets and houses.
A huge grave was dug outside the walls, and here the fallen foes were
buried. Only three or four of the defenders of the town were killed and
a score or so wounded in the whole affair. Although there was little
fear of a return, as the Imperialists would probably continue their
headlong flight for a long distance, and would then march with all haste
to rejoin their main army with the news that a strong Swedish force
was at Mansfeld, the count set the townspeople at once to repair the
breaches.
The people were overjoyed with their success, and delighted at
having preserved their homes from destruction, for they knew that the
Imperialists would, if unsuccessful against the castle, have given the
town to the flames before retiring. The women and children flocked down
to their homes again, and although much furniture had been destroyed and
damage done, this was little heeded when so much was saved.
All vied in the expression of gratitude towards Malcolm and his Scots,
but Malcolm modestly disclaimed all merit, saying that he and his men
had scarcely struck a blow.
“It is not so much the fighting,” the count said, “as the example which
you set the townsmen, and the spirit which the presence of you and your
men diffused among them. Besides, your counsel and support to me have
been invaluable; had it not been for you the place would probably have
been carried at the first attack, and if not the townspeople would have
surrendered when the enemy's reinforcements arrived; and in that case,
with so small a force at my command I could not have hoped to defend the
castle successfully. Moreover, the idea of the sortie which has freed us
of them and saved the town from destruction was entirely yours. No,
my friend, say what you will I feel that I am indebted to you for the
safety of my wife and child, and so long as I live I shall be deeply
your debtor.”
The following day Malcolm with his party marched away. The count had
presented him with a suit of magnificent armour, and the countess with a
gold chain of great value. Handsome presents were also made to Sergeant
Sinclair, who was a cadet of good family, and a purse of gold was given
to each of the soldiers, so in high spirits the band marched away over
the mountains on their return to the village.