CHAPTER VI

A freezing night in November, a cutting wind sweeping up from the Baltic, a sky so black with heavy clouds that not a star gleamed through, and the sentries on the walls of Stralsund shivered at their posts.

It was the only city in Pomerania still held for Karl; everything was ready for defense in case of an attack, and the eyes and ears of the sentinels were strained against the darkness of the night.

They knew not when they might be surrounded by the armies of the Czar.

A clatter of hoofs out of the obscurity of the night and the sentinels at the gates stood at attention.

It was one o’clock in the morning and the whole town slept.

“Who goes there?” challenged the sentry, as the horsemen drew up at the gate.

There were but two of them, as shown by the lantern beams above the arched entrance.

The foremost answered.

“We are couriers dispatched from Turkey by the King of Sweden,” he said.

The soldier looked at him curiously and saw a tall, powerful-looking man in a gray suit and dark blue mantle, wearing a black peruke and a riding-hat laced with gold.

“Sir, it is a long while since we have heard of the King of Sweden at Stralsund,” remarked the sentry, not moving from his post.

“Call out the guard,” said the stranger imperiously. “I must pass.”

His companion, a slight, fair young man, wrapped in a heavy furred mantle, now spoke.

“Fellow, do not keep us here parleying this bitter night--we have ridden from Hungary to Mecklenburg, and it is sixteen days since we saw a bed.”

The guard had now turned out into the narrow gate space, and the officer asked the strangers their business.

“Sir,” said the first speaker, “we bring dispatches from the King of Sweden.”

“The Governor is in bed,” said the officer, “you must wait till daybreak.”

“Sir,” cried the traveler, with a flash of terrible blue eyes from the shadow of his laced hat, “if you do not go at once and wake General Dücker you will all be punished to-morrow.”

The officer admitted them into the town at this, but was still inclined to refuse to wake the Governor.

“My God!” murmured the fair young man. “Is this journey to have no end?”

His companion turned sternly to the soldiers.

“Dismount my friend,” he said. “He is exceedingly fatigued.”

Two of the men ran forward to the horse’s head. As they grasped the bridle the rider sank fainting from the saddle.

“Poor During!” exclaimed his companion. “He is not used to these hardships.”

He looked with some tenderness at the slack figure of the young man as the soldiers carried him to the guardroom, and bade them treat him with all care and respect.

In the meanwhile a sergeant had been sent to awaken the Governor, who, thinking it must be some person of importance or some imperative message, bade the stranger to his presence.

General Dücker’s house was near the gates, and it was only a short time after his appearance at the city walls that the messenger from Demotica was admitted to the bed-chamber of the Governor.

That gentleman, startled by this sudden rousing from his sleep, stood in a dressing-gown by the side of his bed; a valet was lighting the candles that stood on mantleshelf and bureau.

The stranger entered, making the room look small. He brought with him the cold outer air; wet, dirty snow was on his boots that were flecked with mud to the knees; he flung back his heavy blue mantle and showed his gray coat, laced with gold which was like that of a German officer.

“You are from Turkey, sire?” asked the General, speaking with some sternness as he observed the visitor did not remove his braided hat.

“Yes,” replied the other, “we have traveled all through Germany, from Moravia to Westphalia--good riding in sixteen days.”

He took off his hat as he spoke, and flung himself into the first chair he came to with a careless ease very displeasing to the Governor of Stralsund.

“You came a long way round,” he remarked.

“The journey, sir, could have been made shorter by half.”

The stranger looked full at the speaker; his face looked pale between the full curls of the black peruke; his blue eyes, that were of an unusual size and brilliancy, held a curious expression.

“Is it possible,” he said, “that my most loyal subjects have forgotten me?”

“By Heaven,” cried General Dücker, in a loud voice, “it is the King!”

He threw himself on his knees and kissed Karl’s hand.

“It is the King come back!”

“And not too soon, General Dücker,” smiled Karl. “Come, I will sleep a little.”

But the old soldier was sobbing with joy, the valet had run from the room with the great news, and the house was lit from cellar to garret in an instant, and full of the officers of the garrison.

“But like this! Your Majesty returns alone?”

“There was neither money nor men to be had from the Porte,” said Karl dryly. “My escort I left at Pitesti on the Turkish frontier. I had no wish to go through Germany like a traveling show, satisfying the curiosity of the vulgar. I took Colonel During with me, and we made a detour, traveling with post-horses. We were not known anywhere. I have not taken my clothes off since we started,” he added. “We rode day and night I fear I have nearly killed During.”

He smiled and rose.

“So I am on Swedish soil again--and this is the sole town I hold in Pomerania. There is much for me to do, General Dücker.”

The town was now full of people and illuminated from end to end; candles and lamps appeared in all the windows, barrels of wine were rolled into the streets, and the King’s health drunk amid fierce excitement.

The soldiers pressed round the house of the Governor hoping for a glimpse of the King who had returned to restore Sweden’s fortunes.

A chamber was hastily prepared for the King; he had no clothes save those he wore, and his boots that he had worn for sixteen days had to be cut from his legs, so swollen were they with excessive riding.

He tossed off the dark peruke that had served as a disguise, looking different with his clipped fair hair and more like the King these men remembered fifteen years ago.

“To-morrow I will inspect the fortifications, General Dücker,” he said, as he stretched his great length on the bed.

He bid them open the shutters that the light of the illuminations might fall across the room, and the sound of his people’s acclamations come to his ears.

He was soon in a deep slumber of absolute exhaustion; his hand, even in his sleep, stretched towards his sword that lay by his side.

In this wild way did the wild King come home.