THE WHITE FLAG.
The provisions, procured at so much danger and with such loss, were a
seasonable, but scanty relief; for nineteen waggon-loads of flour and
butter went but a short way among the starving population of
Stralsund; and I remember that the strong taste of the Griefswalde
garlic made most of our men ill. The fields around that notable Hans
Town abound with this plant, which usually flowers about Whitsuntide;
thus all the flesh of their cattle, with the milk and butter, taste
of it--at least we thought so.
Provoked by the alarm and loss he had suffered, and by the temporary
supply of a day's food procured for Stralsund, Wallenstein ordered
the trenches to be pushed on with greater vigour, and urged the
blockade by sea, taking advantage of the absence of King Christian,
who was then lingering about Wolgast (the capital of a duke of the
house of Pomerania), in the hope of being joined by Bernard of
Saxe-Weimar, and Major-general Slammersdorf, who were endeavouring to
rouse the timid boors of the Danish isles; but it always happened
unfortunately, that when the eloquence, ardour, or gold of the
gallant duke mustered a few recruits, the terrible aspect of the old
grumbler Slammersdorf, minus a leg, an arm, an eye, and all over cuts
and patches, invariably scared and scattered them to their farms and
fastnesses in the woods.
The cannonading continued daily without cessation; but so admirable
were the means of defence, and so excellent were the precautions
taken by Marshal Leslie, that the loss of life in Stralsund was
trifling when compared to the slaughter, made by our cannon and
musketry, among the Imperial pioneers and trench-guards; but still
starvation stared us gauntly in the face; and some of the poorer
class of citizens, after devouring dogs and cats, and every animal,
even to their household storks, perished of sheer destitution.
We received not a farthing of pay at that time; and I remember that
Major Fritz, by establishing a liason with a generous old countess,
contrived to keep himself and the officers of his regiment, as he
said, "in very good feather." I remember, also, the Baron Karl
saying in jest--
"Der Teufel! Captain Rollo, if this starvation is pressed much
further, we shall all be reduced to eat horses, like our Scandinavian
ancestors!"
This actually became the case; twenty of Karl's pistoliers were
dismounted by order of Sir Alexander, and their horses were shot,
flayed, and exposed for sale in the market-place, where a wild
assemblage of hungry women and hollow-eyed children beheld this
hideous food displayed at an exorbitant price by the burgomaster; and
where strong men contended with them, for the hoofs, the entrails,
and offal.
By the kindness of Doctor Pennicuik, the head of our medical staff, I
was enabled to procure many little things for Ernestine, without
which I do not believe she could have survived on the coarse, scanty,
and uncertain supplies of food received by the troops. Yet to convey
her out of Stralsund was impossible; for the cannon and musketry of
the enemy prevented all egress; and twice cartels with flags of truce
had been fired on, though sent out with the intention of craving that
the wives and children of the citizens, and various Imperial
prisoners then in our possession, might be permitted to leave the
gates.
Around Ernestine and myself, death and disaster had narrowed our
circle of dear friends; but our tenderness for each other increased;
and, when off duty, my time was constantly spent in bestowing
consolation and attentions on my beautiful charge. One day, about
this time, I was sitting with the Baron Karl and Major Fritz at the
window of a house which overlooked the bastions of the Frankendör,
which my regiment still occupied, and from whence we could see the
Imperialists in their trenches beyond the lake. Karl and I were
lunching on a piece of young horse, which had been delicately broiled
by his servant; and, as the baron was quartermaster-general, he had
contrived that we should have the additional luxuries of pepper and
salt, with a hard biscuit each, and a can of muddy wine to wash down
the steaks of the poor bay trooper.
"Another slice, baron, if you please," said I, after my second had
vanished.
"Ah--you like it then! I question much if Fritz, or his old widow,
have often a repast so tender; for this was the youngest horse in my
troop--quite a foal, poor brute! However, I beg that we may call it
excellent venison, only that it has not been kept long enough by our
cook."
"Call it what you please, Karl," said Frits; "but I will not permit
my countess to be laughed at. She is a generous old dame, and quite
adores me! She lavishes on me the contents of her larder and
wine-cellar; I lavish my tenderness on her in return. 'Tis the best
way of subsisting, when the military chest and the market-place are
alike empty."
"But is not this dish excellent?"
"Admirable! Your cook will make his fortune; and to dine with you
will become quite a proverb. Instead of 'Lucullus dines with
Lucullus,' people shall say, 'We are to dine with Karl'--in his
repasts he is a perfect Sybarite. _Mensa prima_--horse-flesh with
salt; _Mensa Secunda_--ditto, with pepper."
"But what are the Imperialists about?" said I; "something unusual is
stirring by the side of the lake."
"Some Imperialists are launching a boat--and there are several men
crowding into her."
"One tall fellow wears a red feather," said I.
"'Tis Rupert of Carlstein himself! For what can the old blockhead
wish to sail on the lake, right under our batteries?"
"'Tis a fast day," said Karl, "and perhaps he is going to fish,
supposing that our twenty-four pounders may have roused a few eels
from the mud of the lake."
"Come, come, Herr Baron," said I, "the count is my particular friend,
and I have to beg----"
"Pardon me, I forgot. One of course does not like to hear that man
called a blockhead who may say to one some morning, 'My dear fellow,
I have the most sincere respect for you--I love you as if you were my
own son, the child of my dear defunct so and so. I will give with my
daughter the chateau of Giezar, and my fief of Kœningratz, with
100,000 doubloons in hard and heavy cash.' Der Teufel! I would not
like to hear him spoken of otherwise than in the highest strain of
commendation; but come--another slice of the venison!"
"See--they have unfurled a white flag of truce."
"Then I hope your Scots at the Frankendör, will receive it as Arnheim
received those with which I twice approached Wallenstein--that is,
with a smart volley of musketry."
We snatched up our swords, and hurried down to the Frankendör, which
we reached just as the boat grounded, and three men, one of whom bore
a white standard displayed from a halbert, approached the gate that
faced the lake.
One was a gaudily attired drummer, who beat a long roll, during which
the trio stood until a Highland drummer beat a reply; then they
approached, and we could perceive that one of our visitors was a
herald (clad in the magnificent tabard of the Imperial college), and
in the other, by his rich dress and stately figure, I recognised at
once the count, the father of Ernestine, and my father's brother,
though he was then ignorant of our relationship. I burned with
impatience to address him; but neither the place nor the time suited.
Ian despatched Phadrig Mhor for orders to the quarters of the marshal
commanding, who desired that neither the herald nor his companions
were to be admitted, even blindfold, lest they might merely be a
party come to spy our defences and destitute condition; and that he
would question them in person.
After a few minutes' delay, the venerable Leslie approached the
klinket of the Frankendör; it was opened, and he stepped out alone
and unattended to receive the envoys of the Duke of Friedland. As he
passed out, I said to him hurriedly--
"Marshal, I pray you to excuse me; one of the Imperialists at the
gate is the great Count of Carlstein--his daughter is starving among
us here in Stralsund,--ask him now, if for Heaven's sake and her own,
he will take her with him to the German camp."
I said this in a voice made tremulous by emotion; but I foresaw that
Ernestine would have to suffer yet greater misery, if she remained
among us; and I had secretly resolved, that the mere selfish
gratification of enjoying her society, should not be made paramount
to her health and happiness.
"I shall mention your wishes to the count," said Leslie; and his
words sounded like a parting knell to me, for I was assured that we
should be separated at last.
"I have done but my duty," thought I; "it were no kindness to keep
her here in Stralsund."
Our marshal--whose little and somewhat decrepit figure, clad in a
plain buff coat laced with silver, and who wore a white scarf of silk
over his right shoulder, sustaining a basket-hilted Scottish sword,
appeared to great disadvantage beside the towering figure of the
count--advanced three paces from the gate, and, raising his blue
bonnet, announced himself with brief formality to the visitors,
adding, "You have been received somewhat differently from those
cartels I lately sent towards your trenches."
"We obey but the orders of Wallenstein," replied the count, with
grave brevity.
"Well, herald--what do you require of us?--I am ready to listen and
reply."
In modern times, this was one of the last instances of a city being
summoned by a herald; but the revival of the obsolete custom, suited
the vain, splendid, and chivalric ideas of Wallenstein. This herald,
who wore a tabard that blazed with embroidery (for it was charged
with the bars argent and gules of Hungary; the red lion of Bohemia;
the fesse of Austria; the triple tower of Castile, and all the
countless quarterings of the great German empire), after coughing
once or twice, took off his conical hat, and, unrolling a paper,
began thus in hoarse and guttural German.
"By orders of Albrecht, Count of Wallenstein, Duke of Friedland and
Mechlenburg, General of the Empire and Oceanic seas, and in the name
of the most high and mighty prince, Ferdinand----"
"Oho--so your Duke puts his name before the Emperor's!" said Sir
Alexander Leslie; "come--Master Herald--that is not so bad!"
Carlstein bit his lips and smiled.
"By the grace of God, Emperor of the Romans," continued the herald,
reading very fast; "King of Germany, Hungary, Bohemia, Dalmatia,
Croatia, Sclavonia, Bulgaria, Bosnia, Servia, and Rescia; Archduke of
Austria; Duke of Burgundy, Brabant, Stiria, Carinthia, Carniola,
Luxembourg, Wittemburg, and Lord of Silesia----"
"Gude guide us!" muttered the Scottish marshal.
"Marquis of the Holy Roman Empire, Burgau, and Moravia; Count of
Hapsburg, the Tyrol, Ferrette, and Kiburg; Landgrave of Alsace; Lord
of Portnau and Salines; I, Rudolf of Mentz, Black Eagle king-of-arms,
summon the burgomaster and citizens of Stralsund, with the
general----"
"The burgomaster has no authority here," said Sir Alexander Leslie;
"I alone command in Stralsund."
"With the general and Scottish troops of the King of Sweden, to
surrender and open the gates of the said city, on the third day from
this, by twelve o'clock at noon, under pain of a general assault,
after which every man, woman, and child, soldier and civilian,
without respect to age or rank, will be put indiscriminately and
without mercy to the sword."
"I am but an unlettered soldier of fortune," replied Leslie, with a
calm smile on his round and good-humoured face; "and being but an
humble man, am altogether unable to send a fitting answer to the
proprietor of this terrible muster-roll of hard names and barbarous
titles. Do the Emperor and Duke think to frighten us with this ware?
I am but the Laird, or the Graf of Balgonie (if it better suits your
German lugs); yet by the orders I have received from Christian and
Gustavus, the allied princes of the North, who committed this once
happy and industrious city to my care, there were no provisions made
anent treating with, or surrendering its people to the tender mercies
of> the Imperial troops; therefore I am extremely sorry that I have
only gunpowder and shot at the service of the Duke of Friedland. You
may return and tell him so; with this additional message, that did I
act as _he_ would have done, I would send you all back in salted
joints, like a barrel of Fourrier's beef."
"Stout Balgonie, you say well!" said Carlstein in our own language;
"by my honour, Wallenstein will find that Stralsund might as well
have been slung in chains, as committed to the care of you and the
brave Scots of Gustavus of Sweden."
"Count of Carlstein, you are, like myself, a cavalier of fortune, and
know that we have seldom other inheritance than our fathers' swords,
and know assuredly that our honour is the very breath of our
nostrils. While one Scottish musketeer can stand by my side, and
while one stone of Stralsund remains upon another, I will never
surrender, and Wallenstein can only have the city when the last
soldier and the last stone have fallen together! You have your
answer, gentlemen--Herald, you may go; but, Count of Carlstein, I beg
one word with you."
At these words I felt my heart beat thick and fast. For me, I
thought the sun would soon set in Stralsund.
"We have among us here your eldest daughter, who is, of course, most
anxious to rejoin you, though we have treated her with every kindness
and care, even as if she had been my ain bairn; but we cannot foresee
what new dangers a day may bring forth, and a beleaguered city is
assuredly no place for women, as we know well----"
"God bless and thank you, Sir Alexander Leslie!" said the count, with
a thick voice, as a change, overspread his face; "if my daughters are
in your charge, they could not be in better hands, and 'tis well, for
receive them I cannot! Wallenstein has sworn, that until the city is
surrendered, no man, woman, or child, shall leave its gates, alive or
dead."
"Ye honour me, count," replied the marshal, whose native accent
always waxed stronger when he became friendly or familiar; "but
believe me, there are some buirdly Scottish chields here with me in
Stralsund, who will deem it their greatest happiness to hae an
opportunity o' shedding their best bluid in their defence."
"Bear my dearest blessing to my poor girls, and let us hope that
happier times are in store for us all--adieu!" and, unwilling that
his emotion should be visible before so many eyes, the count turned
abruptly away, and, stepping into the boat, was rowed, with the
herald, slowly back towards the Imperial lines.
"Girls?" I repeated, as Sir Alexander re-entered by the klinket;
"then he knows not that one of his daughters is no more."
"I saw how the puir man's heart filled, and how his eyes dimmed at
the thought of his bairns," replied the kind old marshal; "and I
could not be a hard-hearted auld tyke, and bluntly tell how one had
perished. Oh, no--ill news travel fast enough, gude kens!"
Such is the selfishness of love, that, notwithstanding the continued
danger, privation, and discomfort; to which Ernestine was certain of
being subjected, I now felt a glow of satisfaction in being assured
that I could not yet be deprived of her society.