THE HUNTER'S COT.
I had lost the path, and knew not which way to turn; yet the
necessity for action made me walk hastily forward in the line which
seemed parallel with the road I wished to pursue; but on becoming
confused among the trees and thickets of large bushes, I lost the way
irretrievably, and stumbled on through the wood, deprived of the
waning moonlight, and even that of the stars, while having, moreover,
to fear the wild animals, and other denizens of a more dangerous
character, who usually haunt the German forests.
After pursuing a narrow path for nearly half an hour, I came to an
open space where the trees had been cleared away, and in the centre
of which stood a hut of the most rustic description.
Four trees, yet rooted, formed its four corners; the walls were of
spars with the bark on; the roof was composed of planks covered by
bark and moss, with large stones placed at intervals to keep down the
eaves, and make the whole erection steady; while above the little
doorway, which was almost buried under a mountain of sweet
honeysuckle and wild-roses, a deer's skull and antlers were elevated
on a large pole, and served to inform me that it was the dwelling of
a huntsman.
After some hesitation I knocked, and though the hour was unusually
late, or rather early, the door was opened almost at the first
summons, for a huntsman is as easily roused as a soldier. Before me
stood a man half dressed, blowing the match of his carbine, and
viewing me narrowly from head to foot.
"Your business, Mein Herr?" he asked, with surprise.
"I have lost my way, and will reward----"
"Handsomely?"
"Ay, _handsomely_, any one who will be so kind as be my guide," I
added, surprised at Lis parenthetical remark; "will you do so?"
"That depends upon which way yours may be," replied the fellow
gruffly, lowering his carbine.
"My way is the road to Bergedorf."
"Are you sure it is not Bredenburg? there were some of your
countrymen in garrison there yesterday."
"Nay, Bergedorf, I tell you!" said I, becoming impatient at the
fellow's incivility.
"You are nearly four miles from the direct road, and could never find
it alone; but if you would choose to pass the night, or rather I
should say the remainder of the morning, with me, I will gladly set
you on the right road for a draught of beer at the first tavern."
"That would not be a very handsome reward," said I, entering; "so,
you are not an Imperialist, then?"
"I am nothing but the humble servant of Mein Herr, and, being under
the authority of Duke Rodolph Maximillian, care not a jot either for
the King of Denmark or the Emperor Ferdinand."
"But your lord serves under the banner of Austria."
"I have no lord," replied the hunter gruffly, as he shut the door
with a bang that shook the cottage; "I am an enemy to all lords--I am
a free forester, and own no master. Der teufel! what between the
taxes of the Duke, the knights of Ertemberg, who would hang us for
shooting the deer, and the bishops of Anhalt and Bremen, who would
burn us because we will not go to mass, life is not worth having save
in the woods, where one is free."
The interior of the hut was as rude as its exterior had promised. In
a small chimney built of rough stones a fire was smouldering; on the
plain wooden table, something like a cold supper of meat and bread,
with beer, in one of those large glazed bowls which come from
Muscovy, was standing, as if awaiting a belated visitor; and by the
smoky oil lamp that hung from a rafter of the roof, and shed a light
over the rudely constructed and humble edifice, I could perceive
that, under his bushy eyebrows, my host scanned me frequently in a
scrutinizing manner, which, to say the least of it, was very
unpleasant.
His bearing and expression were by turns full of oily civility and
sullenness; his figure was strong and athletic--short, and somewhat
bow-legged; his head and face were large, and the latter had a very
unprepossessing cast of features; the nose of a hawk, wide cracked
lips of a livid colour, teeth like fangs, but coated with tartar; a
low brow overshadowed by a forest of hair, and ears partly shorn
off--in their mutilation announcing most satisfactorily the reason of
his aversion to the bishops, knights, and lords of the district. In
short, he was hideous.
"I fear I have disturbed you, my friend," said I.
"Not in the least--make no apologies, I pray you. All night I have
been waiting for a friend who is journeying from Bredenburg to the
castle of Lauenburg. Here is his supper, of which you may partake if
you choose, and then pass the remainder of the morning on these
deer-skins, or in that poor bed in the little room within."
"Many thanks, woodman," said I; "though not much used to luxuries of
late, I shall be but too happy to accept of your little bed."
"The Herr may please himself," he muttered gruffly.
"At what hour of the morning do you usually set forth?"
"In these woods all hours are alike, Mein Herr--say, six."
"But, I have not a horologue, and how shall we know?"
"When the sun shines between the forked branches of a tree opposite,
I know at this season the hour of six."
"I have five hours to sleep, then--fail not to waken me, and when we
pass the boundary of the Hamburg territory, I will give you all I can
afford at present--ten rixdollars!"
"'Tis a bargain--I will not fail," he replied, as a deep gleam shot
over his sullen eyes, and he ushered me into a little room, where,
setting down the light, he left me. The bed was little better than a
palliase, filled with dry rushes or straw, spread upon a sparred
frame; but to me, who had slept so often on the bare ground in my
belted plaid, and when hunting had slumbered on the winter moors till
my locks were frozen to the whitened heather, even that palliase was
a luxury; and after laying against the door a few large billets of
wood, to prevent ingress without my knowledge, I was about to
extinguish the light, when several stains of blood upon the
floor--blood recently spilt, arrested me; but the quarters of a deer
which hung in a corner seemed sufficiently to account for them.
I blew out the lamp, and threw myself upon the truckle-bed to sleep.
Familiarity with danger certainly deadens at times the keener sense
of it; and now, when reflecting upon the adventures of that morning,
I can perceive that my position was full of perils, which
sufficiently indicated themselves. Far from my comrades, close to
the Imperialists, solitary and alone, I had entrusted myself to a
foreign outlaw, a man of whom I knew nothing, save that his ears had
been shorn off by a common executioner--the half savage denizen of a
German forest, who in my sleep might slay me for the value of my
jewelled brooch or gilded corslet.
The small aperture, which in the daytime lighted the inner room of
this little log-hut, overlooked the dense obscurity of the forest,
and was securely fastened by a crossbar of oak. Retreat that way was
impossible, even had I thought of looking for it; but that idea never
occurred to me, for suspicions scarcely suggested themselves. Thus,
I lay placidly down to sleep, and the monotonous rustle of the forest
leaves, and creaking of the laden branches, soon nursed me into the
land of dreams.
I had slept about two hours, when one of those convulsive starts,
which come so unaccountably in one's sleep, awoke me to all my
energies. I heard a noise in the outer apartment, and through the
roughly boarded partition saw a light shining into the darkness
around me. The sound of hoofs were heard, and several men dismounted
at the door of the hut.
I sprang up, and, placing my eye to the partition, beheld through the
aperture Bandolo, the spy, enter, accompanied by three soldiers of
the regiment of Merodé, who immediately attacked the platter of
victuals, and drained by alternate draughts the wooden bowl of beer.
I gave myself up for lost!
"Well, Bernhard, my jovial _schwindler_, here we are at last!" said
Bandolo, adding with a mighty oath, "and a rough ride I have had of
it from Bredenburg. (Give me a glass of strong water.) I have just
left Dunbar, the Scottish major, there. He will not surrender, he
swears, while he has breath to draw; and begs King Christian to
relieve or reinforce him, as the post must fall (some beef,
Bernhard), and as the respectable Hausmeister, Otto Roskilde, I bear
his urgent letter to----"
"To the Danish king?"
"No, to Count Tilly!" said Bandolo, with a loud oath and a hoarse
laugh; "the old Scot may wait long enough for succour. If I could
respect any quality but wealth, I should certainly respect his
valour. He gave me six doubloons to carry this letter to King
Christian!"
"Six doubloons!" muttered the Merodeurs, whose eyes sparkled at the
idea of such a sum being in the pockets of a man who was within arm's
length of them.
"When I give it to Tilly," said Bandolo, speaking with his mouth
full, "he will pay me six doubloons more--happy dog! Maldicion de
Dios! I shall retire from business some of these days, and buy me a
count's patent in the Electorate of Hanover. The avenues will all be
blocked up to-morrow night, and the poor old fool of a Scot, who
trusts to me as the king's messenger, will be deceived by me, as
Count Tilly's friend."
"Friend!" reiterated the Merodeurs with a roar of laughter.
"Then the Scot will be taken," said Bernhard.
"Nay," said a soldier of Merodé; "he may be taken dead, but never
alive. I am one of Tilly's old grumblers, and have met with this
ironheaded Scot before. He will never surrender--but I remember me,
Bandolo, he was too free in giving thee wine at Bredenburg."
"Ah! when I said that Tilly was retreating towards the Weser--Rollo,
Bernhard, another cup of the strong water!" Bandolo swore in German
and Spanish alternately, though he was disguised again in a brown
hat, a black cloak, and false paunch, like the well-fed Holsteiner,
our old Hausmeister at Glückstadt. "Drink, Bernhard, drink!--to the
amiable and generous Count Tilly, who hath the face of a rat, with
the heart of a tiger! Drink to the eternal perdition of all
Protestants, my merry Merodeurs, and to the continuance of this
glorious war, which pours the doubloons into the pockets of Bandolo,
who will erelong give you all a right welcome to his county in
Hanover! Drink, drink--or, maldetto! I will dash my glass in the
face of the first who refuses!"
"Hush!" said the forester, with a prolonged whisper, laying a hand
upon his mouth, and pointing towards the little chamber I occupied.
"Hush--why? is there any one there who knows me?"
"No."
"I am glad of it--for I am becoming such a well-known rascal; but
have you women, there? if so, you must lend me another ruff, for mine
was torn to rags overnight."
(My heart beat quicker! I remembered the story of the village girl's
death, and that her clenched hand retained the fragment of a man's
ruff or collar--and now I saw that Bandolo's broad lace one, of point
d'Espagne, was nearly all torn away. This ruffian--this bravo--the
assassin of poor Dreghorn--this man of a hundred murders--had just
added another item to his frightful list of atrocities!)
I was pondering whether or not his false paunch was pistol proof,
while my host whispered something rapidly in his ear. The wretch set
down his glass, and grew red and white by turns.
"'Tis he--'tis my man!" said he in a low thick voice, as he arose and
flung aside his cloak.
"Who--who?" asked the Merodeurs.
"A prisoner who has escaped from Tilly's quarter-guard--a scurvy
Scottish musketeer. He knows me, Bernhard, and has recognised me
frequently. Thus, if once he reaches the Danish lines or garrisons,
I can never act the spy and befriend the Count Tilly again; for I
tell you all he has discovered me--and must die! For Vida del
Demonio! I have killed many a better man before this, and shall I,"
he added, with a satanic smile on his fierce Spanish mouth, "shall I
leave in my path this adder, whom I can crush with so little
danger--here in Bernhard's hut--far from help or succour? Has he
pistols?"
"No--nor dagger; for of course I looked well," replied the forester
in the same low voice.
"We have pistols and daggers," said Bandolo, as he and the three
Merodeurs unsheathed their long poniards, and examined the edges and
points of the keen broad blades, which gleamed in the lurid light of
the smoky lamp. Its rays fell on the dogged visage of the forester,
on the bloated and ferocious features of the Merodeurs, browned by
exposure, fringed by black beards, and seamed with the scars of
battle and brawl; and on the face of Bandolo, whose eyes gleamed with
cruelty, and whose lips were compressed with determination.
It is impossible for me to describe my emotions during this
conversation, every word of which I had heard with a painful
distinctness, which has impressed it upon my memory. I was
single-handed against five! Resistance, though it might revenge,
could never save me. The window was a fixture; the door I had not
the means of barricading; and the roof of bark and planks, against
which I thrust with all my strength, was too solid for a single hand
to move. My goatskin Highland purse, the gift of Ian, with its four
concealed pistol-barrels (though each of them was not bigger than a
man's middle finger), could alone save me--and the ruffians thought I
was without pistols.
I seized the clasp of this priceless sporran. I pulled the spring,
cocked the secret locks, and placed my skene-dhu between my teeth.
Then, while these five men, intent on wanton murder, were in the very
act of examining their weapons, I softly opened the door, and, by a
single turn of my hand, fired the contents of four barrels right
amongst them, and then with sword and skene in hand, dashed through
in the smoke, and gained the outer door.
It was all the work of a moment!
Two Merodeurs had fallen wounded, and so completely were the third,
Bandolo and the forester, taken by surprise, that I had time to give
the spy a back-handed blow, which broke his right arm, and thereafter
reach their horses, which the Merodeurs had stolen, and which were
fortunately standing close by, with their bridles thrown over the
broken branch of a tree.
Though kilted, and in no way prepared for riding, I sprang across the
saddle of the first nag that came to my hand, and, dashing at random
along the forest road, was soon far from the hunter's cot--that
almost fatal trap in which I had so witlessly enclosed myself.
Thus, between the sunset and sunrise, I had thrice narrowly escaped
death.
Avoiding by something like a miracle the vast forces of Tilly, who
were then moving on to capture Bredenburg, I reached Hamburg in
safety. Long before this I had let loose the Merodeur's horse; for,
being aware that it was stolen, I feared suspicion or discovery if
found with it in my possession.
Thus, I could not overtake Major Wilson's party, as they were a full
day's march before me on the Glückstadt road.
Though anxious to reinforce the gallant Dunbar of Dyke at Bredenburg,
their honour was pledged to refrain from hostilities until they had
reached the place mentioned in their capitulation, and thus the poor
sergeant-major was left with only four hundred of our Highlanders to
contend with a column of the Imperialists, ten thousand strong.
This column was led by Tilly in person, and it invested on all sides
the town and castle of Bredenburg, the principal stronghold of the
Counts of Rantzau, a noble and warlike family of Holstein. I heard
the cannonading on my right hand, while proceeding on my solitary
way; but I only learned the frightful slaughter when I rejoined the
regiment.
Whether owing to Bandolo's treachery, or that King Christian
remembered our quarrel about the Scottish and Danish crosses, and
omitted wilfully to send succour, I knew not; but succour never came,
and Dunbar refused all terms, vowing that "the Scots, who never
feared the Romans--nathless what that liar Hegisippus said--would
never surrender to Germans or Spaniards, while they had breath to
draw!" and this answer will be found in the _Amsterdam Courant_.
The place was stormed on all sides; and old Dunbar, who maintained
the breach for nearly an hour with his two-handed sword, was killed
by a musket-shot, and every one of his brave Scots was put to the
sword, save Ensign William Lumsdaine, who escaped by swimming the wet
graff.
Before Captains Carmichael and Duncan Forbes, with the last of the
four hundred, were slain, nearly a thousand of the Imperial dead were
piled up within the slimy fosse.
Our Highlanders all died like good soldiers and true; for, of the
four companies who perished there, three were composed of the very
flower of the great Clan Chattan.*
* The Imperialists on this occasion shamefully mutilated the body of
Dunbar. "They ripped up his breast," according to Colonel Munro;
"tooke out his heart, sundered his gummes, and stuck his heart in his
mouth; they also killed our preacher, who, being on his knees begging
life, was denied mercy."