THE HIGHLAND OUTPOST.
Through tracts of level land, as yet unscathed by war; along
bridle-roads, bordered by rich meadows and comfortable farmhouses;
and through little towns, that were as picturesque and as pretty as
bright red bricks, spotless plaster, and paint could make them, we
rode back by the way we had come. On one side lay the gulf; on the
other, occasional tarns and groves of wood, covering the gentle
slopes that rose almost imperceptibly from the margin of the dark
blue sea. Yet the denizens of those pleasant places were all
bondsmen; and, without consent of the lord from whom they held their
_hufe_ by tenure, could neither marry nor give in marriage, become
craftsmen, or engage in service elsewhere than in the land on which
they were born.
All those places, too, swarmed with supernatural inhabitants, who
were a source of terror to the poor peasantry. The little hillocks
were inhabited by wicked and avaricious but industrious Trolds; the
moors, by tall, pale, and beautiful Elle women, who attracted young
men by their winning gestures, and then breathed on their faces to
make them sicken and die. All the wells and lakes were
enchanted--here a fiery dragon watched the ransom of a king; there
the wild huntsman kennelled his black hounds;--here dwelt a witch who
sold fair winds; there a devil who wrought all manner of mischief.
But at that time our minds were full of other things; and we rode
round the margin of the Kielerfiörd, accompanied by the tall priest,
whose long legs, as he bestrode his mule, almost reached to the
ground on each side.
"I have heard that Carlstein freed you without ransom, after being
taken prisoner in Luneburg," said Kœningheim.
"Without ransom!--I need scarcely thank him for that, being so poor
that I might have remained captive until the day of doom. I could
only give the good count my thanks, and leave him my best wishes."
"And your heart, too--is it not so? Well, I must not be less
generous; besides, the Emperor has more prisoners at Vienna than he
knows what to do with. Your comrades have landed, as I mentioned,
some twenty miles down the gulf, and are there forming a sconce, with
what object, and for what service, the brave King Christian only
knows; but, before returning to Kiel, I shall see you safe within
pistol-shot of his outposts."
"Count," said I, "you shall ever be remembered among my dearest
friends."
"Among soldiers friendship soon ripens, and a short acquaintance goes
a long way. Is it not so, Father Ignatius?"
The Jesuit was too much occupied by his own thoughts to make any
reply.
"Do not omit to impress upon poor Ernestine, that before another week
is past, if her sister is between the Elbe and the Limfiörd, she
shall be free, and the insults she has suffered will be dearly
avenged; for the old count is coming, and Merodé cannot escape us
both."
"Have you no kinder message than this?"
"I know of none that would be more welcome--from me, at least.
Besides," said he, turning with a bitter curl on his fine lip; "what
other message would you have me send by you to the woman you love?
There is somewhat of a sneer in the question, Captain Rollo, and you
might have spared me that. Suppose, now, that I had committed to
your charge the most warm and ardent messages of love, fidelity, and
so forth; would they have been welcome to your ears? would they have
been pleasant to your memory? would they have been faithfully, and
without diminution, conveyed to Ernestine?"
"They would have been pleasant neither to my ear nor to my memory," I
replied; "yet, on my honour, I would have conveyed them faithfully to
her."
"Acknowledge, however, that you asked for what you had no wish to
hear."
"I confess that I did."
"Then, be assured, I have no such messages to send to Ernestine. For
her I have indeed a true and tender love; but only such as I have for
her sister--or as a father or brother might have for them both.
Count Rupert is one of my oldest and earliest friends. He was my
tutor and patron under Mansfeldt and Sir John Hepburn in the Flemish
war. He would gladly see us more nearly and clearly connected than
by the mere ties of comraderie, but that can never be; and Ernestine,
with whom rumour has so often done me the honour to link my name,
knows that well--though she knows not the reason why."
These words filled me with joy; for Kœningheim had so much that
was brilliant and fascinating about him, that, had we both assailed
the heart of Ernestine at the same time, I fear me much that the poor
captain of Scottish musketeers, might have had but a poor chance of
success when competing with the accomplished noble of the German
empire.
"The reason--the reason," he continued, muttering under his thick
mustaches: "Ah--Christi Creutz be about me!--if she, or thou, or he
knew it, how you would all shrink from me!"
This was scarcely spoken--yet we heard it; and the priest bent his
keen grey eyes on the count, whose gaze was lowered on the mane of
his horse; for the memory of years long past was rising before him,
and his thoughts were turned inward.
"Let us change the subject," said the Jesuit, bending over his mule
towards me; "the gloomy fiend is uppermost, and his dark thoughts are
upon him."
Amid Kœningheim's forced gaiety, I had frequently perceived a
melancholy enthusiasm; at times, his laugh would cease abruptly, and
his brow would knit; then his eye became clouded, and his voice sad.
What secret thought was this that preyed upon the soul of the
naturally gay and gallant soldier, souring his manner, and
prematurely silvering his dark and curly hair? I was perplexed and
interested; but courtesy compelled me to conceal what I observed.
Animated by the same feeling, and to change the conversation, the
Jesuit told us a legend concerning St. Knud, which he had lately
learned from the MSS. of an old brother of his order. It related to
the adventures of his saint, when first he came thither to preach
among the Sclavi, who of old inhabited all Holstein, which derives
its name from _holt_, an ancient word for a forest, the whole
promontory of Chersonesus Cimbrica being then covered by dense woods
of pine and beech, extending from the Baltic to the Western Sea.
Marvelling sorely at the wildness of the country and its inhabitants,
St. Knud came to a place where there was a little green valley
between two hills, which were covered to their summits by foliage,
and there a little figure suddenly approached him.
Unlike the painted Sclavi, who were naked, or clad only in the skins
of bears, and armed with bows and spears of flint, the mannikin wore
a grey doublet with large horn buttons, and an enormous red cap,
which was nearly three feet in diameter, though he was barely two
feet in height. He had a large and solemn visage, a long hooked
nose, a back with a prodigious hump, and a heavy paunch; he carried a
flute about twice the length of himself, whereon he began to play
melodiously at the approach of the saint, who, on hearing the music,
felt his feet beginning to trip; and had he not signed the cross in
time, nathless his sacred character, his palmer's gown, which had
lain for a time in the holy sepulchre, his staff, which had been cut
on Mount Calvary, and his escallop from the shores of Galilee (for
St. Knud had just returned from Jerusalem), he would have been
compelled to dance like all who heard the fairy music of this
grotesque little gnome, who was king and liege lord of all the Trolds
in Denmark.
On beholding the sign of the cross, the Trold stamped his little foot
with rage, and broke his immense flute into a hundred pieces, all of
which vanished with a shrill sound.
"By that sign, I know thou shalt conquer!" said the imp, passionately.
"Who art thou that knowest this?" asked St. Knud.
"I am called Skynde, king of the Trolds," said the mannikin, under
his enormous mustaches, which, with his beard, resembled a frozen
waterfall, "and I am come to meet thee in the name of all the
underground people, whom thy coming hath alarmed; and we hope to sign
a peace or truce with thee, that we may not be driven out of this
pleasant land, where we have dwelt since the waters of the flood
subsided, and permitted us to crawl out of the crannies of the great
ark--yea, ages before the days of Dan, son of Humble--ages before the
Cimbri, the Goths, or the Jutes had a name, or came beyond the green
rampart of the Danesvark. We are kind and benevolent to all who do
not molest us; but savage and revengeful to those who do. Your Maker
is also ours, for when he created men, he also made the happier
little Trolds, and a thousand other spirits which such gross eyes as
thine cannot see; but if thou wilt pray to this good Master for
us--but not against us--we will never molest thee, nor thy servants,
nor followers, even unto the end of time."
Then the saint promised that he would pray every day for the little
Trolds of the land; and thereupon King Skynde threw up his red cap
with joy, and again stamped with his feet. Then two little imps,
each about a foot in height, bare-armed and bare-legged, with leather
aprons, and beards descending to their knees, and all begrimmed with
smoke and dust (for they had just ascended from some fairy forge far
down in the bowels of the earth), appeared, bearing between them a
large goblet of gold, and, staggering under its weight, with their
leather aprons they gave a last polish to the magnificent chasings
which adorned it, and, scrambling down a mole-track, disappeared.
"Brother Knud," said the elfin king, with grave majesty, as he placed
his hand upon the edge of the cup, which was higher than his girdle,
"take this goblet; it is one of thousands made by my smiths; keep it
for the first church you build in Holstein; and rest assured, while
it remains in the land of the Sclavi, thy good people shall never be
molested by the Trolds."
"This cup," continued the priest, "or one said to be it, is still
shown in the convent of St. Knud at Eckernfiörd; and, whether it be
the fairy goblet or not, we must acknowledge that never did mortal
hands frame a more magnificent chalice."
Father Ignatius had just reached this point in his story, when, as we
passed Kiel on our left, his eye observed the human figure still
dangling from the lofty spire, with the crows flying in circles round
it. With some asperity, he asked the count what this display meant;
and Kœningheim, who long before this had recovered his equanimity
of mind and calm, intrepidity of manner, replied briefly--
"A Dane, whom we strung up as you see, for guiding a night attack."
The priest expressed great indignation at this unnecessary barbarity.
"Count, count!" said he; "I could have expected better things from
you."
"Nay, good father," he replied, "do not chide me for this. Condemned
by a court-martial, the man was hanged by our provost, who may have
exceeded his duty by hanging him higher than usual. But you may
order him to be interred the moment you enter Kiel."
Saying that such ferocities disgraced the armies of the Empire, the
priest bade us adieu, and, whipping up his mule, turned off towards
Kiel, and his tall figure was long visible as he threaded his way
between the neglected fields; for the poor Holsteiners being doubtful
who might reap, were omitting to till or sow their fertile land in
many places.
Had he continued with us, the priest would have had fresh cause for
indignation; for when with our four dragoons we entered Lytjenbürg,
which a regiment of Imperialists had just quitted, we found one of
the magistrates hanging by the neck in the market-place. Here, as
elsewhere in Holstein, there stood a bronze figure of Justice, having
a sword in one hand, with a rod in the other; and, to a hand of this
figure, a lieutenant-colonel of Tilly's Croatian horse had appended
the burgomaster for some real or imaginary insult.
Notwithstanding the rage and horror this had excited among the
people, Kœningheim, who was a daring and reckless fellow, rode
right through the town (which is one of the most ancient in the
duchy), and halted at the door of an inn which bore the sign of
_Wildbrat_, the famous dog of Christian I., which proved more
faithful than all the king's courtiers, and thus gave a name and
motto to the noblest of Danish orders. Dinner was ordered, and
promptly served up, with the best of Rhenish, Neckar, and Moselle,
the former being nearly ninety years old at least, so it was averred
by the host, who had not the least idea that he was ever to be paid
for the good cheer he was providing. In that, however, he was
mistaken, for Kœningheim--an honourable soldier of fortune--paid
like a prince; and, after giving refreshments to the four dragoons
who had kept guard at the door, we again set forth, and, just as
darkness was closing, came in sight of King Christian's outposts by
the Kielerfiörd.
The sun had set, enveloped in clouds; there was no moon visible; the
cold grey sky had gradually become an inky black one, and the level
shore with its bordering woods was shrouded in dusky obscurity; but
within cannon-shot of it the Danish fleet were lying at anchor. One
mile from the shore, on advantageous ground, the king had formed a
strong redoubt, banked up with earth and palisades, mounted with
cannon, and garrisoned by a thousand men under his own immediate
orders. These men consisted of my own regiment and three companies
of Dutch. His fleet protected them on the seaward, and their cannon
and situation on a hillock rendered it inacessible from the landward.
On the road to Kiel, and in other directions, he had posted
out-guards, and perdues were scattered beyond them.*
* Out-picquets with advanced sentinels.
From the summit of a knoll over which the roadway wound, and between
two thickets of trees, which, together with the darkness of the
night, completely concealed us, we could distinctly perceive, far
down in the hollow, between us and the redoubt, a guard of soldiers
bivouacked round a watch-fire.
Thanking Kœningheim for his kind escort, and expressing regret
that I did not possess even a tester to give his dragoons, that thev
might have a can of Rostock beer on their return, I now begged that
he would leave me, being so near my comrades that I could reach them
in perfect safety, while to him the vicinity was full of peril. He
assented to this, and, after looking at the outpost through his
Galileo glass, handed it to me, and I was glad to perceive by it that
the soldiers around the watch-fire belonged to my own regiment.
By the red glow which the blazing fire shed on the green trees of an
adjacent wood, and the grassy meadow beyond, I could perceive my
brave comrades standing in groups, with their steel accoutrements
glittering, or rolled in their tartan plaids, and resting on the
sward between their piles of arms; while far in front, upon the
roadway, were two advanced sentinels, standing motionless and still
as they leaned against their pikes, the points of which glittered
like red stars in the light of the wavering fire.
"Now, farewell, Kœningheim," said I, dismounting, and handing the
bridle of the horse I had ridden to one of the dragoons (for it
belonged to the German cavalry), "on foot I can reach the outpost.
Remember to perform all you have promised for the rescue of our poor
Gabrielle, and thus complete the kindness of a day which I shall
never forget."
"By the way," said he, "did you not tell me that you were without
money? My purse is at your service. Take it, Captain Rollo, for one
cannot have too much of that ware."
I was about to decline, when a sound that came from the thick
underwood which surrounded the knoll, made us pause. Kœningheim
stooped his head to listen, and the four German troopers blew the
fuses of their musketoons.
"A passing wind has rustled the branches," said Kœningheim,
shortening his reins.
"Nay," said I, whose Highland ear had been practised in my native
forests to every casual sound; "it was the footsteps of men--for I
heard the crackle of decayed wood and withered leaves."
"Then _we_ are too long here," replied Kœningheim, wringing my
hand with honest warmth; "farewell!--I will remember all you have
said, and all you wish."
"_Ready!_" cried a voice among the trees; "guard pans--present--give
fire!"
"Christi Creutz!" cried Kœningheim, as a volley of six muskets
streaked with red fire the dark bosom of the coppice, and, struck by
six deadly shots, the count and his four German dragoons fell heavily
on the turf, while their affrighted horses dashed down the knoll and
disappeared. One dragged his rider a considerable way. Then I heard
a wild Highland _scraigh_, and Sergeant Diarmed Macgillvray of
Drumnaglas, with a patrol of six musketeers, surrounded me.
I cannot express the grief and indignation this occurrence excited
within me. With my own hand I could have slain Drumnaglas, had he
not given me a warm embrace, and welcome back--as he said--to life
and liberty; and had I not been aware that he mistook the count's
escort for a reconnoitring party or patrol of the Imperialists, with
a Scottish prisoner whom it was his duty to free; and, with the most
perfect Highland _sang froid_, he turned over the slain, one after
the other, and shook them, saying--
"Tead--tead as a herring, too--Got pless us!"
The count still breathed, but a ball had passed through his breast,
beating into the wound a portion of his cuirass and buff coat; thus
he suffered the most excruciating agony. But as I still hoped he
might live, I desired the Highlanders to cross their fatal muskets,
and with their plaids laid over the barrels, to form a temporary
bier, on which we conveyed him, groaning heavily and bleeding
profusely, to the out-guard, where M'Coll of that Ilk commanded, and
from thence to the sconce, where the regiment received me as one who
had indeed returned from the dead; for Ian and all the officers had
most respectable knots of black crape on their sword-hilts and left
arms, in honour of my memory. Even the standard poles had the same
grim livery, which was very gratifying to me; as men have seldom an
opportunity of beholding the respect paid to their memory when
defunct.
"Tell me, Ian," said I, when the congratulations had a little
subsided; "has Ernestine heard the rumour of my death?"
"She believes you to be a prisoner in Kiel."
"And these confounded badges of crape--for whom does she believe they
are worn?"
"For the Duke of Pomerania, as I told her."
"But old Bagislaus IV. is not dead."
"It matters not--his name was the first that occurred to me."
"Ah! pray, Ian, go--or send some one to say that I am safe--that I am
here, and in a few minutes will be by her side."
"Dioul! why not go yourself?"
"I dread the excess of joy----"
"Excess of joy never killed any one, whatever excess of grief may do.
Ah! if you only loved yourself half so well as you love this
dark-eyed woman----"
"Or as you love Moina," retorted I; for Ian, though he really admired
Ernestine, and considered it a duty to love her as his own kinswoman,
had never been altogether able to overcome his first prejudices
against her foreign taint, as he called her German accent and her
Spanish blood.
"Moina dwells by Kilchiuman," said he, "and her eyes have never
looked on other hills than those whose shadows darken the waters of
the Oich and Garry. Moina is a daughter of the old race; she has no
foreign blood in her veins, or strange accents on her tongue."
"But Ernestine is your natural-born kinswoman, and Moina is _not_."
"My kinswoman!--well, so she is--blood is warmer than water, and by
the Cairn na cuimihne!" said he, tossing up his bonnet, "I would
march to the cannon's mouth for her; but it is a devil of a pity her
mother was a stranger--a Spaniard."
"Nay, I think it has been a great improvement on the old Rollo blood;
for I am sure that two such beautiful dark eyes were never seen in
the old Tower at Cromartie; but while we chatter here like a couple
of pyets, poor Kœningheim is enduring, I fear me, the agonies of
death."