The King's Ring. Zacharias Topelius
be to heaven," he said, "for these wounds, which have procured me the happiness of having such a beautiful hostess!"
The count's wounds were numerous, but not dangerous. Taken captive at Breitenfeld, he had shortly afterwards, still weak from his wounds, been exchanged, and immediately hastened here, to regain health and strength in the neighbourhood of his heart's mistress.
"But," he added, "I heard with great alarm that the enemy, seeking whom they may devour, were on their march hither to the rich vales of Franconia. Then I hurried, quickly as I could, to share with you, beautiful Regina, all these dangers and terrors. Be calm! Königshofen will make a stand against them, and Father Hieronymus, who, also wounded, escaped from the disastrous field of Breitenfeld, is busy inciting the country people to resistance all along the enemy's advance.
"And so you think," anxiously asked Regina, "that these terrible heretics will venture as far as this place?"
"The protection of the saints will be with beauty and faith," answered the count evasively. "Besides, we shall soon receive more reliable news."
As he spoke, Regina looked out of the window, and perceived a troop of horsemen, who were hurrying at full speed towards the fortress.
"I cannot be mistaken," she exclaimed; "it is Father Hieronymus himself who returns here."
"A bad omen," muttered the count between his teeth.
Lady Regina was right; it was Father Hieronymus who at that moment rode over the drawbridge. In appearance, the father was a little insignificant man, thin and pallid, with sharp features, and deeply sunk, hollow eyes, whose quick glance fled inquiringly from one object to another. He still wore the long sword suspended from the rope round his waist. But the bald spot no longer shone on the crown of his head; wounded at that place, he wore over it a sort of skull-cap or calotte of leather, the black colour of which made a ghastly contrast with his cadaverous-looking face. Never had the dreaded Jesuit showed himself in so forbidding a form. The men-at-arms stood at attention, and all the servants in the castle hastened to receive his commands. A secret anxiety took possession of all the bystanders. It looked as if terror and death had ridden in his train through the gates of Würzburg Castle.
The monk hastily surveyed the garrison drawn up in the courtyard, and then greeted Lady Regina with a smile, which was probably intended to make him look more agreeable, but which had exactly the opposite effect.
"St. Petrus and all the saints protect you, gracious lady! The times are very awful, very bad. The Holy Virgin has allowed the vile heretics to penetrate to our very gates—on account of our sins!" he added, crossing himself devoutly.
"And Königshofen?" inquired Count Fritz, who anticipated the answer.
"The treacherous commander has capitulated."
"But did not the peasants oppose the enemy's march through the forest?"
"All scattered like chaff—on account of our sins."
"And the holy Brigitta's image?"
"The vile heretics have placed it as a scarecrow in a wheat-field. But," continued the Jesuit, his voice acquiring suddenly a commanding tone, "what is this I see, my daughter? Why are you still here, and the castle filled with women and children, while the enemy may arrive at any moment at your gates?"
"Lady Regina shall never need a protector as long as I am alive," exclaimed Count Fritz.
"The castle is provisioned for a whole year," said Regina timidly. "But, worthy father, you are fatigued, you are wounded, and need rest. Allow me to dress your wounds; you are hurt in the head."
"It is nothing, my daughter. Do not think of me. You must fly instantly to the impregnable fortress of Aschaffenburg."
"Ha! I fear it is too late," exclaimed Count Fritz, who was looking out upon the river and town.
"Holy Virgin, are they already here?"
The Jesuit and Lady Regina rushed to the window. The afternoon sun was shedding its rays over Würzburg and the surrounding country. Horsemen could be seen riding at full gallop through the streets, and a whole host of panic-stricken people were rapidly moving towards the castle—monks and nuns, women and children, dragging after them a number of hand-carts containing the best of their household effects. Beyond the town, in the direction of Schweinfurter, on the east bank of the river, appeared a troop of cavalry, from whose threatening but cautious advance one could easily recognise the vanguard of the Swedish army.
"Accursed devils!" burst out the Jesuit, with an indescribable expression of hatred on his pallid face. "These heretics can fly. May the earth open and devour them!" And he ran out with frantic zeal to place himself at the head of the garrison.
The bishop's castle, also called Marienburg, raises its old walls high above the right bank of the Main. On the river side of the town the rock is high and precipitous, but on the other side sloping and easily ascended. A rampart in the shape of a half moon formed a formidable outwork before the gates; and if the enemy surmounted this obstacle, a deep moat, cut in the solid rock, awaited him on the other side; and even if he crossed this successfully, the inner and higher castle wall blocked his way, lined with steel-clad defenders, prepared to receive him with a devastating fire, and crush him with the large stones collected on the walls. The only passage over the river was a narrow bridge, and the forty-eight guns of the fortress commanded and swept the whole town and neighbourhood. From this it will be seen that Keller at the head of 1,500 valiant troops, and well provided with all necessaries, had good reason in bidding the departing bishop to be of good heart.
But Gustaf Adolf had an overwhelming reason for becoming master of this castle, cost what it would. Tilly had now drawn to himself large reinforcements, and stood, a few weeks after the battle of Breitenfeld, fully equipped and eager for revenge, with 30,000 men on the march from Hessen, to assist Würzburg.
The king summoned the town, and forced his way into the suburbs, but it was already late in the day, and the attack had to be postponed. The next morning the town surrendered. But Keller had profited by the darkness of the night to transfer his whole force, a large number of fugitives, and the portable property of the town, to the castle, after which he blew up two arches of the bridge, and thus blockaded the enemy's way.
But to return to the fortress.
That night none but the little children could sleep in the bishop's castle. Crowds of soldiers, monks, and women, were constantly arriving; one baggage-wagon after the other rattled in through the castle gates; the vaults echoed with the cries of the watch, the orders of the officers, and the children's crying, and above all this noise and confusion one could plainly hear the masses of the monks, who were invoking in the chapel the protection of the Holy Virgin and all the saints, on behalf of the threatened fortress, the strongest castle of the Catholics in all Franconia.
In order to provide for this human host, Lady Regina had not only opened the bishop's private rooms, but also the two spacious drawing-rooms set aside for her own use in the interior of the castle, and with her maids moved up to the small chambers in the east turret. In vain it was represented to her that this point was exposed to the fire of the enemy. She here had the best and most extensive prospect in the whole fortress, and was not willing to forego it. "Do not interfere with me," she said to the cautious Jesuit; "I wish to see the heretics mown down by our guns. It will be a fine spectacle."
"Amen," answered Father Hieronymus. "You remember, my daughter, that this castle is protected by two miraculous images of the Virgin, one of pure gold, the other of gilded wood. I will hang up the latter in your apartment; it will avert the enemy's shot like so many puff-balls from your turret."
At daybreak, Lady Regina was on the look-out at her little turret window. It was a glorious sight, when the sun rose over the autumn hills with their still verdant vineyards, through which the River Main wound like a glittering serpent of gold and silver in the morning light. In the town all was activity; four Swedish regiments marched in with flags flying and drums beating, their armour shining in the bright sunlight, and the plumes of their officers waving in the wind. At this sight, fear and curiosity