"Aye! do I! But for no long time!" He picked up his sword, and wiped it with a lace handkerchief and thrust it into its scabbard.
Nigel looked round. Coming at a sharp trot was a small troop of hors.e.m.e.n from the direction of Donauwerth.
"I doubt ye"d best cry quits and tak" your horse. They won"t follow you if you"re by yourself, but if you"re hampered with a prisoner, I canna vouch for them." There was a kindly gleam in his eyes as he said it.
Nigel took the hint, and holding out his hand said, "Farewell, Sir John!
And thanks for your courtesy."
"Farewell, Mr Charteris, and if at any time you should see fit to change camps, or need a friend in other ways, call upon Jock Hepburn!"
And while Nigel sought his horse, the other turned to his, and meeting the hors.e.m.e.n rode off with them.
CHAPTER x.x.xVII.
THE DEFENCE OF THE LECH.
Two Bavarians had been recommended to him as aides-de-camp, men of good breeding and great courtesy. They had arrived with the Elector Maximilian, but had asked Tilly as a favour to be attached to an officer of experience with the view of learning all they could. In some way Nigel"s name came up, and to Nigel they were attached. Nigel found their society and their comradeship very agreeable, and kept them constantly employed. At the table their talk ran much on the notable warriors of old and modern times, and personal daring and valour they extolled as the most G.o.dlike virtues: from which Nigel deduced that they had seen little of actual service, for men who have been through the grim experience of a hardly-fought campaign, not to say two or three, know how little these avail at one time, how greatly at another, according to the twists and turns of fortune or the success of strategy: know how they are displayed by the commonest soldier or by the greatest general without bragging, or any claim to be considered unusual. But the two aides were not much older than himself, and very devout men, and there was no harm in their talk if it was rather too much in one tune.
Gustavus" army made a formidable show as it took up a position on the high ground on the opposite bank of the Lech. Nigel noted that his artillery was lighter and more numerous than Tilly"s, and his batteries were placed more closely together on ground that was somewhat higher than Tilly"s, and therefore should have more effect gun for gun, and showed an intention of making a great attack on one spot.
Nigel knew that their own position was a strong one, and with the river swollen as it was by melting snows, that it was practically impossible for Gustavus to push home his attack, however heavy the fire of his artillery, without a bridge.
On the morrow when day broke the artillery on both sides began their clamour, and, although a few shots fell into the midst of the most forwardly placed regiments, the battle for hours was between artillery.
The position chosen for his artillery by Gustavus showed at once the eye of the strategist, for the fire swept across the northern angle of the triangle, and in that area the fire was constant and appalling in its severity. If Tilly had chosen the post of posts for Nigel that offered the greatest number of chances of death, that was it. Nigel even thought that Father Lamormain"s exhortations to get slain, if possible, were in a fair way to fulfilment. And to his surprise his two aides-de-camp, unaccustomed as they were, showed a n.o.ble rivalry in devotion. They dared the most hazardous risks, while they carried his orders to the different contingents, with an air of doing nothing notable which charmed Nigel, though it made him shake his head. For his own part he urged upon his artillery commander the greatest economy in his fire, to direct it with the greatest care upon one selected spot till he had put the enemy"s guns to silence, and to reserve himself and his men as much as possible for the attempt to cross that would surely be made later in the day.
Then on the Swedish bank of the river a great smoke arose from fires of damp wood and straw. The wind blew it into Tilly"s camp, where it mingled with the smoke of the artillery. It soon became difficult to see what was forward.
"The bridge!" said Nigel. "He is building a bridge!"
For long it was impossible to be sure where it was being begun. The noise of hammering was lost in the noise of the firing. The smoke belched forth for hundreds of yards along the river bank. The fire of Gustavus" ordnance continued, relentlessly pounding away upon all the batteries of Tilly within range, and being light, their position was changed from one half-hour to another as the Swedish officers thought fit.
"A bold swimmer might spy it out!" was the suggestion of one aide-de-camp.
Nigel had thought of it; but for a man to go into that icy and turbulent water was to meet certain death, even were he roped. He would be numbed before he could see anything, or shot by some of the Swedes, who doubtless lay securely along their higher bank.
A boat, a raft, anything that floated on the surface would be a mark.
No! There was but one way, to wait till the bridge workers had advanced to mid-river and then shatter their handiwork. But with what engine?
Nigel had discovered that the guns of the Swedes from their slightly higher elevation commanded all the available pieces of Count Tilly, raking the Imperial entrenchments with a desolating precision.
Yet a reply had to be made. Every officer that could be spared was busy encouraging the gunners to face the enemy and load their pieces, sponge, ladle in the powder, ram home the fresh charges, with the certainty that here and there along the line a great ball would come, smashing backs and limbs, or terrifying the manhood out of their veins.
Again and yet again Nigel himself would s.n.a.t.c.h the rammer from a trembling wretch and ram home the charge: would point the gun, wedging it up to get the greater height needed. It was desperate work. And his two aides worked like him, shirking nothing.
A little change in the breeze and he saw where the Swedish engineers, working like men possessed, pushed out the bridge a few planks at a time, fastening them to pontoons which others rolled down to them. Now he knew his direction, and five of his guns were trained directly on to the growing bridge. But scarcely had they dropped their first hustling load of round-shot than a furious cannonade of the Swedes put the whole five out action. No gunners" bravery availed, or could avail. It was tempting useless slaughter.
Then Nigel led down files of musketeers from the entrenchment and disposed them along the banks to scare away the workers, but the enemy did likewise, and so hara.s.sed the musketeers that few of their shots reached a mark at all.
All along the banks on either side the battle raged in some sort. Mainly it was an affair of cannon-b.a.l.l.s, but wherever musketry could be expected to make an impression Tilly ordered his men forward, exposing himself to the continual cannon fire. But everywhere the Swedes made the greater havoc, though the position, if resolutely defended, was still impregnable, and the Imperialists became more and more depressed.
The bridge crept out another yard. It could be seen how Gustavus was bringing up a fresh picked body of his veterans, Swedes all of them, calm, resolute, bearded men, bronzed and scarred with many a fight, ready for the rush across that would herald the hand-to-hand fighting that would follow.
Nigel hated the suspense. He longed for the moment when he could lead down his musketeers and pikemen to the crash of the charge. And yet was it wise to wait? Could nothing be done?
A raft with twenty men upon it? Dare he? He named it to his aides. Dare?
They would dare. They need not risk his life, more valuable than theirs.
Here was greater fighting to be done. There was no taunting. But how skilfully they plied him too!
Up the river four hundred yards to give it greater impact they got some of the Bavarian woodmen to lash logs together and cross them with other logs, and three men from the banks of the Danube to guide the raft as well as they could and fend it off the banks with long poles. A small keg of powder and a hatchet apiece made the cargo for this short voyage.
Except the polemen, the rest crouched low, holding by the ropes.
Nigel was there. He did not ask himself why he was there, risking his life, but what he would be able to do.
The river boiled and swirled. The logs creaked. The whole raft would have turned if it could, if it had not been for the frantic straining of the polemen.
The setting out of the voyagers was unnoticed amid so much din and turmoil, but they had scarcely fared half the way in less than a minute of time than musket-shot came scrambling among them. Two hundred yards more, a mere leap it looked along the water. They held their breath and braced their limbs for the shock. There was the half-built bridge. A crash! What a rending, and churning of the waters! They were upon it, the raft driven half upon it; of the raft"s crew half of them were hurled into the river, the other half upon the bridge. Five of the bridge builders went down before them, two of them to Nigel"s sword.
Then the keg of powder was staved in and set endwise under the planking and a match made ready. But the bridge builders were reinforced by twenty stout pikemen, who pushed on to the bridge head and thrust at Nigel"s men with fury.
It was an unequal contest, for while five men engaged the enemy, the other five or six endeavoured to free the raft from the timbers of the bridge, and Nigel waited in the deadliest peril, firing the match.
The raft was wellnigh free, the water began to take hold of it again, twisting it determinedly, when the Swedes, checked for the moment by the stubbornness of the Imperialists, bore down their opponents. But Nigel had got the tarred rope well alight. "Now for your lives!" he said, and regardless of pike-thrust and musket-shot they flung themselves on to the raft and swept on, while the powder sullenly exploded, breaking loose a full half of the work completed, and blowing seven or eight stout pikemen into the waves.
For Nigel there was the rushing water, a volley of musketry, a sharp pain followed by a momentary sensation of falling into the stream, then nothing.
But night was drawing in, and Gustavus could not cross.
CHAPTER x.x.xVIII.
A SURPRISE AT RATISBON.
Nigel awoke to the jolting of an ox-waggon, over which was a rough covering. He was lying in his cloak on a truss of straw. Beside him sat one of his aides-de-camp, Captain von Gratz. But just now he looked strangely unlike a military man, and was reciting prayers, fingering a rosary which hung about his neck while he did so, with an earnestness that suggested that some one was on the point of death.
For a moment or two or three Nigel could not bring his mind to any clear understanding. The officer had a lantern. Outside, through the opening in the rough hood, was a blue sky and frosty-looking stars. Tramp!
Tramp! The army was on the march. Whither and why? Heaven, what a pain!
In his side, or was it in his shoulder? Nigel felt stiff for the most part, but the pain was sharp and not always in one place.
The aide-de-camp raised the lantern and looked at him, gave him a draught of some kind, which sent the blood circulating more warmly, and made his stiff limbs feel as if they were being teased by a thousand p.r.i.c.ks. Then he said "Hush!" and went on praying till Nigel fell asleep.
In the morning they had reached Neuburg, and Nigel was sufficiently himself to understand what had happened. Count Tilly had had his right leg shattered by a cannon-ball, and a man of seventy-three, tough even as Tilly, does not suffer such wounds with impunity. Altringer, his next in command, was dead. The Elector Maximilian, swayed by Tilly, had ordered a retreat from that wellnigh impregnable position. With nightfall the retreat had begun, to Neuburg first. Then it was to be Ingolstadt, where another stand would be made. Count Tilly was still alive. The next question Nigel put was for the other aide-de-camp. He had been drowned in the Lech. He had "died for the faith," as his comrade-in-arms said.
"You are a regular priest?"