The King's Ring. Zacharias Topelius
I ask your Majesty to read this letter. When I said farewell to my old father he gave me this letter, and said, 'My son, go and try to win your king's favour, through your faithfulness and valour. And if some day you can obtain it for your own sake, and not only for the sake of your father's name, then give him this letter, and tell him that it is my last will. His great heart will understand what I mean.'"
The king opened the letter and read it, and on his face was seen that deep flush, which in his later years was the only sign of the struggles of a soul, able to control itself. It came as a light cloud on the king's forehead, deepened for a moment, and then passed away without leaving any trace. When he had finished reading, his eyes rested for a moment on the handsome youth who was still kneeling at his feet.
"Stand up," said the king at last.
Bertila obeyed.
"Do you know what this letter contains?"
"No, your Majesty."
The king watched him closely, but was satisfied with the honest and truthful expression of his face.
"Your father is a strange man. He hates all noblemen since the days of the Peasants' War. He fought many tough battles as their leader; and Fleming's troops took possession of his farm. He forbids you ever to bear a noble name, if you wish to avoid his curse."
Bertila did not reply. A thunder-bolt from a clear sky had come down upon his happiness, and all his dreams of a noble and knightly name had been destroyed at one blow.
"A father's will must be obeyed," continued the king with great seriousness.
"The noble name which I had intended for you, you cannot accept. Do not feel sad, my young friend, you shall keep your sword and your lieutenant's commission; with them, and your brave arm, the path to honour will always be open to you."
The king now dismissed him, and the young man left the tent with mixed feelings.
CHAPTER III.
LADY REGINA.
In the beginning of October, 1631, it was a dull autumn day, about three or four weeks after the battle of Breitenfeld, and in one of the rooms of the tower of the castle of Würzburg the beautiful Regina von Emmeritz was sitting with several of her attendants; they were all working on a banner of white silk with the image of the Holy Virgin on it. It was intended for a standard of victory to stimulate the troops defending the castle. The young maidens indulged in an animated conversation, for the terror of the castle, the old, selfish bishop, had just started off, as he alleged, on a journey through the diocese, but in reality to escape Gustaf Adolf's approaching warriors. Trembling for his treasures, he had previously entrusted the defence of the town and castle to the valiant and trustworthy captain of horse, Keller, with fifteen hundred men; and this commander, relying upon the impregnable position of the fortress on the banks of the Main, had assured his reverence that the heretic king should crush his head against the walls, before any of his godless host obtained an entrance.
The lovely Regina was scarcely sixteen, and her curls were dark as the night, cheeks rosy as the dawn, and black eyes shining like two stars which at midnight mirror themselves in a mountain lake. She was the pet and idol of the aged bishop; he had therefore unwillingly left her with his other treasures in the castle, depending, however, upon Keller's assurance that the thick walls well mounted with heavy guns, were, in such uncertain times, the best harbour for beauty and gold; and Keller was a commander of fidelity and honour; with such a precious trust he would sooner bury himself underneath the ruins of the fortress than surrender.
Lady Regina raised her brilliant eyes from the embroidery and glanced through the little turret window over the river, where at that moment a carriage, escorted by some troopers, was crossing the bridge from the town to the castle.
"Who is this traveller?" she said, with the concentrated gaze which rarely fixed itself upon any object except the large and beautiful marble image of the Madonna in her sanctuary.
"Ah!" exclaimed Ketchen, the youngest and most talkative of the maidens, "ah, Holy Virgin, how charming it is to live in such times as these! Every day, new faces, stately cavaliers, brave young knights, and now and then a little feast in town. It is quite a different thing from sitting shut up in a cloister, and hearing the monks chant De Profundis from morn till eve. Yes," continued she saucily, "may his grace, the bishop, only stay away a good long time!"
"Ketchen," admonished Regina, "take care not to speak ill of the services and masses of the monks! Remember that our confessor, Father Hieronymus, is a member of the Holy Inquisition, and that the castle dungeons are deep and dark."
Ketchen remained silent for a moment. But directly afterwards she boldly said,
"If I were in your place, lady, I would rather think of the handsome Count of Lichtenstein, than of that terrible Father Hieronymus. He is a valiant knight; God grant that he may return victorious from the war against the heretics!"
"May they all be exterminated by fire and sword!" interjected one of the girls in a devout manner.
"Poor heretics!" said Ketchen smiling.
"Beware!" repeated Lady Regina, with naïve earnestness. "A heretic deserves no mercy. Anyone who kills a heretic has pardon for seven sins; Father Hieronymus has often thus instructed me. To hate the heretics is the eighth sacrament, and to love a single one of them is to consign your soul to eternal torment."
Regina's black eyes emitted fire with these words. One could easily see that the worthy father's teachings had taken deep root in her soul.
Still Ketchen did not refrain.
"It is said that their king is good and noble, and that he shelters all the weak, and does not allow his soldiers to plunder and outrage their enemies."
"Satan often assumes the disguise of an angel."
"They also say that his men are brave and humane. I myself heard an old Italian soldier tell the knights in the armoury how seventy men belonging to a heretic people called Finns, defended their king for more than an hour against fifteen hundred Neapolitans. And when most of these Finns had fallen, the rest were succoured and finally triumphed; afterwards they bound up the wounds of their enemies as well as their own."
Lady Regina rose, and was about to return a quick answer to this unpalatable speech, but at that moment a servant appeared at the door, and announced that the Count of Lichtenstein, sick and wounded, had arrived at the castle, and craved shelter. The young lady, who, as the niece of the old bishop, took the part of hostess of the castle in his absence, immediately hastened down to welcome the new arrival, who was a distant relative of the family.
The maidens now exchanged significant glances, as if they considered this event especially opportune. It had long been gossiped amongst them that the old bishop had chosen the count as the future husband of the young lady. But in vain had they endeavoured to discover any signs of emotion on the part of their young mistress at the intelligence of his arrival. If Lady Regina entertained any tender passion, she well knew how to conceal it.
"Is it true," asked one of the girls, "that the king of the heretics has won a great victory over the soldiers of the true faith, and is now approaching this castle with his godless army?"
"So it is said," answered another. "But he is unable to come here. Our people have erected the image of the Swedish saint, Brigitta, in his path, in Thüringer forest, and she will stop his progress."
In the meanwhile, Lady Regina had ordered one of the bishop's own apartments to be put in order for the guest, and provided in every way for his comfort. The young Count of Lichtenstein was a proud and stately youth, dark as a Spaniard, and with eyes almost as bright as Regina's. He approached the beautiful hostess with faltering steps, and with an ardent glance, before which Regina cast down her eyes.
"How grateful