قراءة كتاب The Mercenary: A Tale of The Thirty Years' War

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The Mercenary: A Tale of The Thirty Years' War

The Mercenary: A Tale of The Thirty Years' War

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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advancement.

"It should serve your turn. I know a soldier when I see one, and you have quitted yourself manfully."

"Thanks, General!" Nigel glowed all over with his commendation.

At this moment the unknown lady made her entrance. Count Tilly signed to Nigel to stay: raising his fine eyebrows with a movement that gave him a quizzical air, and a slightly amused look crept into his face. He rose and bowed politely—

"The Lady Ottilie of Thüringen?"

A look flashed from her eyes to Count Tilly's as she bowed in return.

"It is the name by which I am known to your officer here!"

"There is a singular likeness between your face and that of a lady I once met at the court of Vienna," said Count Tilly, as if it were a matter of no moment.

"Indeed!" she said unmovedly. "At the present moment I am seeking a safe-conduct to Thüringen, for myself and two persons in whom I am interested."

"To what part?"

"To Eisenach, or, if not, then to any point on the frontiers!"

"And your business, madame?"

"To restore my friends to their families, and rest, after the horrors to which you have subjected us, Count."

Tilly made no sign of displeasure. The air of amused courtesy still sat in his eyes, in his manner.

"How long have you been in Magdeburg?" he asked.

"Ten days, reckoned by time," she said with meaning.

"You must have changed into a cat, or an owl, to get into the city ten days ago!" he said, surveying her calmly. "Yes. It was possible to you. Now, are you ready to start at once?"

"Within an hour, Count!"

"Good! Captain Charteris here will escort you and your party as far as Erfurt. After that you must make your own plans!"

The Lady Ottilie von Thüringen did not look overjoyed at the news. She stole a glance at the captain, who on his side evinced no rejoicing, and then at the general. One might have supposed that she suspected some design on the part of the elder man.

"It is the utmost I can hope for, I suppose," she said grudgingly.

"Women should stay at home!" said the Count. "Especially girls of your age and condition," he added, waving his hand in token of dismissal.

The lady's lips curled as she bowed and withdrew. It was plain she was accustomed to having her own way, and not accustomed to being rebuked by generals, however eminent.

"My young friend," the Count went on to Nigel, "you will have a curious convoy as far as Erfurt. When you leave them at Erfurt, see that some trustworthy men are to accompany them. I seldom forget faces, and more rarely voices. Be careful. Look closely after her. Find out what you can! Don't make love to her! It is of no importance to you what I think. I may be misled by a resemblance. It is a thousand chances that I am. But for you, the less you know at the outset the better for you. It is a great protection sometimes not to know anything. Here is an order for a lieutenant and twenty troopers. Take any travelling carriage and four horses you can lay hands on. And stay, here are a hundred gold crowns for your expenses. On leaving Erfurt you will go as fast as possible to Vienna, after which, God be with you till we meet again!"

Nigel pocketed the crowns and the blessing with a good grace, thanked Count Tilly, and saluted. It was not often that an officer found such favour with the dry old general.

He was too busy during the next hour with his preparations to trouble his head with the speculations of Count Tilly as to the identity of "dark Ottilie," as he called her to himself. In point of fact he was rather disappointed to be called upon to act as escort even as far as Erfurt. He would so much more willingly have ridden by the shortest road to Vienna, where his ambition was already, if we may speak of a man's desire outstripping his body by three days or so.

For his secret heart sang "Wallenstein," and not "Ottilie" dark or fair. Yet Wallenstein, for the little that Nigel Charteris had seen of him, or knew of him through others, was not a man to be beloved of men. He had been twice married, which might prove that he was beloved of women, or not, according to the side the pleader took. Nigel could recall without difficulty the long narrow face with the large ears set close back against the head, the high deeply-furrowed brow, the thoughtful scrutinising eyes from which all laughter was absent, the plain linen collar turned flatly down over his cuirass, the little tuft on his chin, the look of solid power about the face as a whole, a face dominated by resolution rather than pride.

What was it then that drew Nigel Charteris to him? It was perhaps the sense of the orderliness and discipline that prevailed about the famous general and emanated from him. It was perhaps the audacity that had led him to offer, in the dark days of the empire, to raise an army of twenty thousand men which should cost the Emperor nothing but his mandate, or the sound foresight that in fact provided thirty thousand for the war of '26. Nigel Charteris had marched with him as a mere subaltern to the crushing defeat of Mansfeld at Dessau on the Elbe, had joined in the resistless pursuit through Silesia, through Mähren into Hungary, where Mansfeld was striving to unite with Bethlem Gabor of Siebenbürgen, most turbulent of Electors. Nigel had seen the army of thirty thousand grow into seventy thousand, and the Emperor able to dictate in the affairs of Europe. There had been nothing to equal Wallenstein's army in the world.

And then the Habsburger, listening to jealousies, to his own fears perhaps, to the Jesuits certainly, to Maximilian of Bavaria, had bidden Wallenstein, laden as he was with honours and riches, lay down his baton. Wallenstein had made no demur, raised no standard of rebellion, had gone into retirement. The army mouldered away regiment by regiment. Some had joined Tilly, like Nigel. More had become idlers in the great cities. It had been Wallenstein's army. Without him to command even the Emperor could not keep the snows from melting.

And now came this mysterious message that Wallenstein would be summoned again. His old officers would be flocking back. Nigel felt it in his bones. Loyalty to a great leader is one of the strongest engines in the world, least visible to the eye, most potent in effect.

A travelling carriage was found, the body hung by leathern straps, steadied by light chains, to the solid box and hinder seats, which were just above the axles. From somewhere had sprung two serving maids, the one a plump, wide-chested, short Saxon girl, evidently a retainer of Elspeth Reinheit; the other, an older, slightly-wizened woman of dark complexion, with a certain air about her of one accustomed to the chambers of great ladies, of one above the common herd of waiting women, and as plainly the attendant of Ottilie of Thüringen. The two had probably been hidden in some garret of the house in Magdeburg, and followed their mistresses, having no other goal to make for, to the outskirts of the camp. The Saxon girl was already on terms of familiarity with the troopers. The other held herself pursed up and aloof.

Nigel mounted the two on the hinder seat of the coach, their mistresses within, and presently gave the order to the lieutenant, who sent on two men in advance. Nigel and the lieutenant followed at the head of ten troopers. The other eight rode behind as a rearguard.

They gave a glance back at the smoking ruins of Magdeburg, out of which still rose some spires of churches which had successfully defied the conflagration, and were no longer the objective of Tilly's cannon, and rode along the level road towards Strassfurt, comparing their military experiences of the last three days.

The young

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