THE CAMP IN THE FOREST.
As the stranger made his announcement, I chanced to turn my eyes on
the Waldgrave's face; and if there was one thing more noteworthy at
the moment than the speaker's air of perfect and assured composure, it
was my lord's look of chagrin. I could imagine that this sudden and
unexpected discovery of a kinsman was little to his mind; while the
stranger's manner was as little calculated to reconcile him to it. But
there was something more than this. I fancy that from the moment he
heard Tzerclas' name he scented a rival.
My lady, on the other hand, did not disguise her satisfaction. 'I am
pleased to make your acquaintance,' she exclaimed, looking at the
stranger with frank surprise. 'Your name, General Tzerclas, has long
been known to me. But I was under the impression that you were at
present in command of a body of Saxon troops in Bohemia.'
'My troops, such as they are, lie a little nearer,' he answered,
smiling; 'so near that they and their leader are equally at your
service, Countess.'
'For the present I shall be content to claim your hospitality only,'
my lady answered lightly. 'This is my cousin, the Waldgrave Rupert.'
'Of Weimar?' the general said, bowing.
'Of Weimar, sir,' the young lord answered.
The stranger said no more, but saluting him with a kind of careless
punctilio, took hold of my lady's rein and led her horse forward into
the firelight.
While he assisted her to dismount I had time to glance round; and the
cheerful glow of the fire, which disclosed arms and accoutrements and
camp equipments flung here and there in splendid profusion, did not
blind me to other appearances less pleasant. Indeed, that very
profusion did something to open my eyes to those appearances, and
thereby to the nature of the men amongst whom we had come. The
glittering hilts and battered plate, the gaudy cloaks and velvet
housings which I saw lying about the roots of the trees, seemed to
smack less of a travellers' camp than a robbers' bivouac; while the
fierce, swarthy faces which clustered round the farther fire, reminded
me of nothing so much as of the swash-buckling escort which had more
than once accompanied Count Tilly to Heritzburg. Then, indeed, under
the old tiger's paw Tilly's riders had been as lambs. But we were not
now at Heritzburg, nor was Count Tilly here. And whether these knaves
would be as amenable in the greenwood, whether the Waldgrave had not
done us all an ill service when he voted for moving on, were questions
I had a difficulty in answering to my satisfaction; the more as, even
before we were off our horses, the rude stare the men fixed on my lady
raised my choler.
On the other hand their leader's bearing left nothing to be desired.
He welcomed my mistress to the camp with perfect good breeding, the
Waldgrave with civility. He hastened the preparation of supper, and in
every way seemed bent on making us comfortable; sending his knaves to
and fro with a hearty good-will, which showed that whoever stood in
awe of them, he did not.
Meanwhile, I had a third fire kindled a score of paces away, where a
small thicket held out the hope of privacy, and here I placed our
women, bidding three or four of the steadier men remain with them. The
injunction was scarcely needed however. Our servants were simple
fellows born in Heritzburg. They eyed with shyness and awe the
swaggering airs and warlike demeanour of Tzerclas' followers, and
would not for a year's wages have intruded on their circle without
invitation.
The moment I had seen to this I returned to my lady, and then for the
first time I had an opportunity of examining our host. A man of middle
height, sinewy and well-formed, with an upright carriage, he looked
from head to foot the model of a soldier of fortune, and moved with a
careless grace, which spoke of years of manly exercise. His face was
handsome, cold, dark, stern; the nose prominent, the forehead high and
narrow. Trimly pointed moustachios and a small pointed beard, both
perfectly black, gave him a peculiar and somewhat cynical aspect; and
nothing I ever witnessed of his dealings with his troops led me to
suppose that this belied the man. He could be, as he was now,
courteous, polished, almost genial. I judged that he could be also the
reverse. He was richly, even splendidly, dressed, and seemed to be
about forty years of age.
My lady sent me for Fraulein Max, who had been overlooked, and was
found cowering beside the newly kindled fire in company with Marie
Wort and the women. Though I think she had only herself to thank for
her effacement, she was inclined to be offended. But I had no time to
waste on words, and disregarding her ill temper I brought her, feebly
sniffing, to my lady, who introduced her to her new-found kinsman.
'Pardon me,' he said, looking negligently round him. 'That reminds me.
I, too, have a presentation to make. Where is--oh yes, here is friend
Von Werder. I thought, my friend,' he continued, addressing the other
and older man whom we had seen by his fire, 'that you had disappeared
as mysteriously as you came. Herr von Werder, Countess, was my first
chance guest to-night. You are the second.'
He spoke in a tone of easy patronage, with his back half turned to the
person he mentioned. I looked at the man. He seemed to be over fifty
years old, tall, strong, and grey-moustachioed. And that was almost
all I could see, for, as if acknowledging an inferiority, and
admitting that the terms on which he had been with his host were now
altered, he had withdrawn himself a pace from the fire. Sitting on the
opposite side of it near the outer edge of light and wearing a heavy
cloak, he disclosed little of his appearance, even when he rose in
acknowledgment of my lady's salute.
'Herr von Werder is not travelling with you, then?' my lady said;
chiefly, I think, for the sake of saying something that should include
the man.
'No, he is not of my persuasion,' the general answered in the same
tone of good-natured contempt. 'Whither are you bound, my friend?' he
continued, glancing over his shoulder and throwing a note of command
into his voice. 'I did not ask you, and you did not tell me.'
'I am going north,' the stranger answered in a husky tone. 'It may be
as far as Magdeburg, general.'
'And you come from?'
'Last, sir? Frankfort.'
'Well, as you say last, whence before that?'
'The Rhine Bishoprics.'
'Ah! Then you have seen something of the war? If you were there before
it swept into Bavaria, that is. But a truce to this,' he continued.
'Here is supper. I beg you not to judge of my hospitality by this
night's performance, Countess. I hope to entertain you more fittingly
before we part.'
Though he made this apology, the supper needed none. Indeed, it was
such as made me stare--there in the forest--and was served in a style
and with accompaniments I little expected to find in a soldiers' camp.
Silver dishes and chased and curious flagons, flasks of old Rhenish
and Burgundy, glass from Nuremberg, a dozen things which made my
lady's road equipage seem poor and trifling, appeared on the board.
And the cooking was equal to the serving. The wine had not gone round
many times before the Waldgrave lost his air of reserve. He
complimented our host, expressed his surprise at the excellence of the
entertainment, asked with a laugh how it was done, and completely
resumed his usual manner. Perhaps he talked a little too freely, a
little too fast, and viewed by the other's side, he grew younger.
What my lady saw or thought as she sat between the two men it was
impossible to say, but she seemed in high spirits. She too talked
gaily and laughed often; and doubtless the novelty of the scene, the
great fires, the dark background, the burnished trunks of the beeches,
the bizarre splendour of the feast, the laughter and snatches of song
which came from the other fire, were well calculated to excite and
amuse her.
'These are not all your troops?' I heard her ask.
'Not quite,' the general answered drily. 'My men lie six hours south
of us. I hope that you will do me the honour of reviewing them
to-morrow.'
'You are marching south, then?'
'Yes. Everything and every one goes south this year.'
'To join the King of Sweden?'
'Yes,' the general answered, holding out his silver cup to be filled,
and for that reason perhaps speaking very deliberately, 'to join the
King of Sweden--at Nuremberg. But you have not yet told me, countess,'
he continued, 'why you are afield. This part is not in a very settled
state, and I should have thought that the present time was----'
'A bad one for travelling?' my lady answered. 'Yes. But, I regret to
say, Heritzburg is not in a very settled state either.' And thereon,
without dwelling much on the cause of her troubles, she told him the
main facts which had led to her departure.
I saw his lip curl and his eyes flicker with scorn. 'But had you no
gunpowder?' he said, turning to the Waldgrave.
'We had, but no cannon,' he answered confidently.
'What of that?' the general retorted icily. 'I would have made a bomb,
no matter of what, and fired it out of a leather boot hooped with
cask-irons! I would have had half a dozen of their houses burning
about their ears before they knew where they were, the insolents!'
The Waldgrave looked ashamed of himself. 'I did not think of that,' he
said; and he hastened to hide his confusion in his glass.
'Well, it is not too late,' General Tzerclas rejoined, showing his
teeth in a smile. 'If the Countess pleases, we will soon teach her
subjects a lesson. I am not pushed for time. I will detach four troops
of horse and return with you to-morrow, and settle the matter in a
trice.'
But my lady said that she would not have that, and persisted so firmly
in her refusal that though he pressed the offer upon her, and I could
see was keenly interested in its acceptance, he had to give way. The
reasons she put forward were the loss of his time and the injury to
his cause; the real one consisted, I knew, in her merciful reluctance
to give over the town to his troops, a reluctance for which I honoured
her. To appease him, however, for he seemed inclined to take her
refusal in bad part, she consented to go out of her way to visit his
camp.
At this point my lady sent me on an errand to her women, which caused
me to be away some minutes. When I came back I found that a change had
taken place. The Waldgrave was speaking, and, from his heated face and
the tone of his voice, it was evident that the old wine which had
begun by opening his heart had ended by rousing his pugnacity.
'Pooh! I protest _in toto!_' he said as I came up. 'I deny it
altogether. You will tell me next that the Germans are worse soldiers
than the Swedes!'
'Pardon me, I did not say so,' General Tzerclas answered. The wine had
taken no effect on him, or perhaps he had drunk less. He was as suave
and cold as ever.
'But you meant it!' the younger man retorted.
'No, I did not mean it,' the general answered, still unmoved. 'What I
said was that Germany had produced no great commander in this war,
which has now lasted thirteen years.'
'Prince Bernard of Weimar, my kinsman!' the Waldgrave cried.
'Pardon me,' Tzerclas replied politely. 'Pardon me again if I say that
I do not think he has earned that title. He is a soldier of merit. No
more.'
'Wallenstein, then?'
'You forget. He is a Bohemian.'
'Count Tilly, then?'
'A Walloon,' the general answered with a shrug. 'The King of Sweden? A
Swede, of course.'
'A German by the mother's side,' my lady said with a smile.
'As you, Countess, are a Walloon,' Tzerclas answered with a low bow.
'Yet doubtless you count yourself a German?'
'Yes,' she said, blushing. 'I am proud to do so.'
What courteous answer he would have made to this I do not know. She
had scarcely spoken before a deep voice on the farther side of the
fire was heard to ask 'What of Count Pappenheim?'
The speaker was Von Werder, who had long sat so modestly silent that I
had forgotten his presence. He seemed scarcely to belong to the party;
though Fraulein Max, who sat on the Waldgrave's left hand, formed a
sort of link stretched out towards him. Tzerclas had forgotten him
too, I think, for he started at the sound of his voice and gave him
but a curt answer.
'He is no general,' he said sharply. 'A great leader of horse he is;
great at fighting, great at burning, greatest at plundering. No more.'
'It seems that you allow no merit in a German!' the Waldgrave cried
with a sneer. He had drunk too much.
But Tzerclas was not to be moved. There was something fine in the
toleration he extended to the younger man. 'Not at all,' he said
quietly. 'Yet I am of opinion that, even apart from arms, Germany has
shown since the beginning of this war few men of merit.'
'The Duke of Bavaria,' the same deep voice beyond the fire suggested.
'Maximilian?' Tzerclas answered. This time he did not seem to resent
the stranger's interference. 'Yes, he is something of a statesman.
You are right, my friend. He and Leuchtenstein, the Landgrave's
minister--he too is a man. I will give you those two. But even they
play second parts. The fate of Germany lies in no German hands. It
lies in the hands of Gustavus Adolphus and Oxenstierna, Swedes; of
Wallenstein, a Bohemian; of--I know not who will be the next
foreigner.'
'That is all very well; but you are a foreigner yourself,' the
Waldgrave cried.
'Yes, I am a Walloon,' Tzerclas said, still quietly, though this time
I saw his eyes flicker. 'It is true; why should I deny it? You
represent the native, and I the foreign element. The Countess stands
between us, representing both.'
The Waldgrave rose with an oath and a flushed face, and for a moment I
thought that we were going to have trouble. But he remembered himself
in time, and sitting down again in silence, gazed sulkily at the fire.
The movement, however, was enough for my lady. She rose to her feet to
break up the party; and turning her shoulder to the offender, began to
thank General Tzerclas for his entertainment. This made the Waldgrave,
who was compelled to stand by and listen, look more sulky than ever;
but she continued to take no notice of him, and though he remained
awkwardly regarding her and waiting for a word, as long as she stood,
she went away without once turning her eyes on him. The general
snatched a torch from me and lighted her with his own hand to our part
of the camp, where he took a respectful leave of her; adding, as he
withdrew, that he would march at any hour in the morning that might
suit her, and that in all things she might command his servants and
himself.
He had sent over for her use a small tent, provided originally, no
doubt, for his own sleeping quarters; and we found that in a hundred
other ways he had shown himself thoughtful for her comfort. She stood
a moment looking about her with satisfaction; and when she turned to
dismiss me, there was, or I was mistaken, a gleam of amusement in her
eye. After all, she was a woman.