THE CASTLE OF KIEL.
Fresh air and light, a little food and wine, with one night's sound
sleep, completely restored me.
Partially undressed, and with a rich velvet mantle thrown over me, I
was lying upon a beautiful bed, which, as I afterwards learned, was
the couch of that valiant Duke of Holstein, Adolph, archbishop of
Bremen, who overran the Ditmarsch, and compelled the proud Hamburgers
do him homage. The four columns sustaining the canopy were of
exquisitely carved oak; the canopy itself, and the coverlet, were of
blue silk, brocaded with gold flowers; the former was surmounted by
plumes of feathers, and was lined with white silk, fringed with
silver within and gold without. It was too luxurious, and seemed
like a beautiful toy, made only to be admired, or for a fairy to
sleep in. The apartment was neither wainscoted nor tapestried, but
was hung with matting of shining straw; the ceiling was composed of
oak, the beams of which intersected each other, forming panels
wherein had been recently emblazoned all the armorial bearings of
Christian IV.; the variously coloured lions of Denmark, Sleswig,
Norway, and Gothland; the golden dragon of Schonen; the paschal lamb
of Juteland; the blue cavalier of Ditmarsch; the nettle leaves of
Holstein; the cygnet of Stormar; the cross of Oldenburg, &c. &c.; the
leopard, the crossed spears, and the crowned savages, wreathed and
armed with clubs. Three windows of stained glass faced the gulf of
Kiel; one of these had been broken by the passage of a cannon-shot,
and fragments of the iron bars and brass wire which formed the
latticed grating were visible beyond.
The whole furniture was in confusion; in some places mirrors were
broken; in others, were pictures that bore strong traces of having
received a passing slash from a sword.
I had just made a survey of all this by one glance, and throwing
aside the mantle was about to rise, when Count Kœningheim, who had
been writing in a recess of one of the windows--for the castle walls
were of enormous thickness--approached, and bade me good-morning.
I gave my hand to this soldier of fortune, who, only a night or two
ago, had expressed his rage at me for loving a woman whom he vowed
not to marry even if she was a queen, with the wealth of India for
her dowery.
"Well, my comrade," said he, after a few words of compliment and
inquiry had passed; "Zounds! was not yonder blow-up a rough
interruption of our tilting-match?"
"Your magazine of powder, was it not?"
"Twenty tons were stored up in the Hall of Appeal. On the night of
the bombardment I had a saucisson laid, and the hall undermined, to
blow up the whole in case of being obliged to abandon Kiel. Your
partial conflagration fired the saucisson, and has cost the emperor
more powder than he will probably commit to my care again--for some
time at least."
"And my comrades--did they all escape?"
"All, save one. Favoured by the confusion, they vanished from the
streets, and, regaining their boats, got clear off; but that secret
entrance will not serve their purpose a second time."
"And he who did not escape?" said I.
"Is now hanging from yonder tower," said the count, opening one of
the pointed windows, and showing me a prospect of the town, the chief
feature of which was the great square tower of the church, with its
lofty and tapering hexagonal spire, from the summit of which there
dangled something like a crow. I could perceive it to be a human
figure, but diminished by distance, and wavering in the sea breeze;
it swung to and fro, now against the spire, and now a few feet from
it in the air.
"Count Kœningheim," said I, turning with anxiety and indignation
from this startling spectacle, "and have you--who, like myself, am a
Scottish soldier of fortune--dared to hang one of my comrades?"
"If yonder Danish purser, whilome a distiller and smuggler, was one
of your comrades, then I have indeed dared to do so."
"The poor man was only serving his king and his country."
"He has cost the Emperor twenty tons of good gunpowder--an
unanswerable argument," replied the count, as he folded up his
despatch and endorsed it to Tilly, whose troops were down somewhere
about the mouth of the Elbe. "And did you really imagine, Captain
Rollo, that I would have hanged one of our kindly Scots, as I hung
yonder purser? _Hawks dinna pyke oot hawks' een_; and I assure you,
that although we fight under different banners, I love the blue
bonnet far too well to hang its wearer as a Danish scarecrow. In the
devilish mood I was in on the night of the bombardment, I would have
thought no more of slaying you--if able--than of taking this glass of
wine; but after the affair was over--after I thought you fairly
crushed to death--and a day or two had elapsed, it seemed a shame and
a scandal to me that a brave Scot, with the tartan on his breast and
the kilt above his knee, should lie uncoffined like a dog under a
fallen house. I set the pioneers of Camargo to dig out your remains,
and had fully resolved to inter them with all the honours of war in
the great church of the good city of Kiel. We had not the most
remote hope of finding you alive in the vault, like Holger Danske in
that dungeon under Cronborg castle, where, as the legend says, he has
sat for a thousand years with his armed knights around him."
"And where is the Danish fleet?"
"At the mouth of the gulf, where Christian has landed, and ordered
your regiment of Highlanders to erect a strong sconce on the shore.
But enough of these things at present. You will breakfast with me,
and then we will talk of military business afterwards."
"Business," thought I; "that must mean my transmission as a prisoner
of war into Central Germany!" He led me through various apartments
to one, the princely magnificence of which excited my admiration.
Kœningheim laughed at me, saying--
"Erelong, there may be no other hangings on these walls than such as
the spider spins."
During breakfast he asked me many questions concerning
Ernestine--casually, concerning her health and amusements, but all
with kindness, and without the slightest tinge of jealousy. Though
his friendship was sincere, it was evident that he did not love her.
There was a riddle in this? The count, her father--old
Rupert-with-the-Red-plume--was at Vienna, and was soon expected by
the army to resume the command of his division. The poor man
consequently still believed that his daughters were in perfect safety
with the old Queen of Denmark.
"Then," said I, "neither you nor he are aware that Gabrielle has been
abducted by Merodé?"
"Merodé--abducted!" stammered Kœningheim, as his sun-burnt cheek
grew pale, and then flushed with anger; "do you tell me that Merodé
has dared----"
As briefly as possible I related the dangers into which the sisters
had fallen; the affair of Bandolo, and the retention of Gabrielle at
Fredricksort.
The count thrust his breakfast from him.
"Fire and sword!" he exclaimed; "to know now that they have been in
the Wohlder, within a few toises of my outposts, and I knew not of
it! Oh! Captain Rollo, I love those girls as if they were my own
sisters--for they are good, amiable, winning, and indeed most
loveable; yet withal, and notwithstanding Carlstein's kind
intentions, believe me I have no more idea of marriage than of flying
in the air. Oh no! I shall never marry! I do not think that the
world possesses a daughter of Eve who could tempt me to forsake the
camp for her bower, or the head of my regiment for the poor pastime
of dangling at her skirt. Fortunately, it is not far from this to
Fredricksort, and Gabrielle shall be freed even if we must take the
place by storm. Ten devils! to think she has been so long with such
a man as Merodé!"
"Perhaps he is not so bad as rumour makes him. He may respect the
high rank and perfect purity of Gabrielle."
"Respect--he, Merodé!" reiterated Kœningheim, with an angry laugh;
"we might as well expect heaven and hell to change places, as to find
one virtuous emotion in the heart of that ignoble soldier. The fool!
he thinks that poor Carlstein is in hopeless disgrace, when at this
very hour he may be travelling from Vienna with greater honours than
any of us, save Wallenstein, have yet attained. Rest assured that I
will free Gabrielle, and protect her until she is restored to her
father or her sister. If Merodé will not yield her," continued
Kœningheim, beginning to buckle on his cuirass and sword; "by
Heaven! I will pistol him at the head of his regiment. I am not a
man who stands on trifles, neither is Carlstein--old
Rupert-with-the-Red-plume--as we Imperialists call him."
"You lads of the black eagle make small account of human life; and
value blood no more than water."
"Blood!" he muttered, while continuing to arm himself; "the shedding
of it under harness is but a matter of necessity, Yet, alas! Captain
Rollo, by a fatal mischance, and in a moment of ungoverned passion,
my disastrous hand has shed the blood of one whose fate hath cast a
horror over my path in life. Wherever I have gone--in the camp and
in the city, in the field and on the ocean, on the Scottish hills and
on the German plains--that cloud has overhung me! With my own
existence only, the cloud and the horror will pass away; but the
memory of the deed I have done will never die in the peaceful spot
which was blighted and cursed by its committal. I destroyed a life,
to preserve and to defend which, I would have given my own a thousand
times over, could such have been; but let me not recur to these old
memories, for they madden and unman me!"
A dark shade had overspread the handsome face of Kœningheim--his
eyes were saddened, and a spasm contracted his features; but, without
remarking the bitterness of his emotion, I continued to assist him in
accoutring, and also armed myself; for I had begun to entertain faint
hopes of not being kept as a prisoner after all.
"Come, come, Kœningheim," said I; "you are not the only man who
has slain a dear friend in a sudden quarrel."
"_Friend!_" he repeated, in a voice that made me start.
"No; when wine is in the head, and when the sword is in the hand,
such things will happen," I continued, supposing that he referred to
an unfortunate duel.
"Oh no!" said he mournfully; "such deeds as mine are done but
seldom--yet, let me not think of it! Peace--solitude--at such times
madden me. Action! action! that is the only relief. Come with me,
then; let us ride for Fredricksort, and save Gabrielle from
Merodé--the lamb from the wolf--the dove from the vulture."
We descended to the gate of Kiel, for the hope of liberty and of
freeing Gabrielle restored me to fresh energy; and though
Kœningheim expressed his doubts of my ability for exertion, I
waived every objection, and, accompanied by four dragoons of the
regiment de Wingarti, who wore black iron helmets and corslets, white
buff coats with wide skirts edged by red cloth, jackboots, swords,
musketoons and pistols, we set forth; and though scarcely able to
keep on my saddle, by weakness resulting from recent mishaps at
Eckernfiörd and Kiel, I was never behind Kœningheim by the length
of my horse's head.
To be brief, after a hard ride round the shore of the gulf, and
seeing every where the poor peasantry flying at our approach to moor,
morass, and woodland, we reached the great fortress of Fredricksort,
only to find it a pile of dismantled and blackened ruins; for in some
of their wild excesses, Merodé's officers (on the very night we were
bombarding Kiel) had set their quarters on fire. They were thus
compelled to remove to a neighbouring village, from whence--by orders
received direct from Wallenstein--they had marched no one knew
whither; but by certain smoky indications at the horizon, we supposed
their route lay towards Flensborg. Merodé had several ladies with
him in caleches, and a number of other women, and a vast quantity of
plunder, in waggons and on horses; thus his regiment marched off like
a triumphal procession, singing in chorus, with all their drums
beating and colours flying, and with crowds of camp followers
mingling and shouting among their riotous and disorderly ranks.
Such was the account we received from the tall Jesuit, Father
Ignatius, who had visited Fredricksort on the same good errand that
had brought us from Kiel, and whom we met fortunately, in a narrow
green lane (near the ruined castle), where the good man had
dismounted from his mule, and taken off its bridle, that the animal
might crop the herbage that grew by the wayside.
Accompanied by the Jesuit, we returned towards Kiel with the
unpleasant conviction that our journey had been perfectly futile; and
having a fresh source of anxiety in the doubt, whether Merodé had
taken Gabrielle away with his ladies who occupied the carriages, or
whether the poor girl had perished among the flames of the burning
fortress.
"There were no less than six waggons crowded by soldiers' wives, all
as drunk as liquor could make them," said Father Ignatius.
"'Tis fortunate for those ladies that the old Roman law, by which a
husband could slay his wife if her breath indicated wine, no longer
exists," said I.
"But those ammunition wives smelt only of schnaps and brandy," said
the priest, turning up his eyes.
Book the Tenth