CHAPTER XX.

RUPERT-WITH-THE-RED-PLUME.

I lay long insensible, concealed by a mound of rubbish which the explosion of the bridge had thrown up between me and the sconce, where the fierce Croats and savage Spaniards had barbarously slain all our poor wounded men, and thrown them into the river; for the first objects which appeared when sense returned, were several corpses in dark green tartan floating on the surface of the Elbe almost below me, and in the yellow flush with which the setting sun tinged the broad river. Many of these bodies were half-stripped by those infamous women who followed the Imperialists in such numbers, and who found an unwonted prize in the silver brooches and jewelled biodags of the Highland soldiery.

"Oh cursed bigotry, and accursed ambition!" thought I, when reflecting on these horrors; for ambition had produced the war of aggression, and religious bigotry had inflamed the minds of the enemy, and urged them to that atrocious pitch of cruelty, of which the sack of Magdeburg was an example so terrible! I was about to stagger up to seek a draught of water--for the agony I endured from thirst cannot be written--when a heavy hand was laid upon me, and a somewhat familiar voice said--

"If you would escape death, lie still as if you were dead."

I looked up, and in the splendidly armed cavalier who addressed me, recognised by his military orders the great Count of Carlstein, and by his voice that Imperialist who had bestowed on me the golden chain, and from whom I had received the flag of truce.

"Lie still," he continued hurriedly, "till nightfall, at least, and then I will have you conveyed away. I had an order from Tilly to put all to the sword in forcing a passage here, and his orders must be obeyed by all who receive them. Feign death if you would escape."

Unable to reply, I sank again, and how long I remained so, I have not the least idea; but, when aroused fully, I found myself on horseback, and supported on the saddle on one side by a gentleman in bright armour; on the other, by a man in the Celtic garb of my own regiment. The whole landscape swam around me, but I perceived that there was a brilliant moon shining; that the Elbe with its ruined bridge lay on my right, and yellow fields, with rustling trees and green hedges, extended to the left. A mouthful of brandy and water revived me, and I said to the soldier--

"Who are you?"

"Dandy Dreghorn, sir, of puir Captain Learmonth's company," he replied, and then I recognised him as one of the Low Country pikemen, of whom we had a few in the regiment, from the counties on the Highland border.

"And how did you escape?"

"By feigning mysel stane deid, sir, sae they just dookit me in the Elbe; but I could swim like a cork, and hid myself among the green rashes till this gentleman saved me. Oh, sir, it was an awesome butchery! mair than forty gallant fellows, who were sairly wounded, shot deid, or hacked to pieces by knives and whingers, and flung into the river. If ever I spare an Imperialist after this night o' bluid, my name is no Dandy Dreghorn!"

"And where are we going--why in this direction?"

"To a house that I wot of, not far from this," replied the gentleman, who had a large red plume in his helmet; "there, orders have been given to convey you."

The country became more woody as we proceeded, and the moonlit road wound past various lonely tarns, overgrown by broad-leaved plants and water lilies; the deep water on which they floated, being rendered yet darker by the shade of many an aged oak. After a pause, I said--

"From whom have you orders concerning me?"

"The Count of Carlstein," replied the stranger.

"That ferocious butcher! Then I am hopelessly a prisoner."

"That depends upon the count," he replied, laughing; "but I am sorry you should have such a bad opinion of him."

"Pardon me, sir"--said I, checking the bridle of the horse; "what have I permitted myself to say? I now perceive that you are the count himself!"

Dandy started on hearing this; but the count--for it was indeed he--smiled, and said--

"I thought you would soon recognise me."

"Good Heaven! you are a Scotsman, and yet can butcher your own countrymen thus!"

"I do not butcher them," he replied in a broken voice; "they defended that bridge after a fair warning of what they might expect if the fort was stormed, and bravely have they fought, leaving it without one cannon lost or colour taken. Besides, sir, please to remember that I am not the only Scotsman who serve the Emperor. We have more than one regiment of our countrymen, and many a Scottish commander, in the army of the Empire."

"And why is this?"

"Because, like myself, they are all true Catholics, and serve the Catholic League, whose princes are pledged to exterminate Protestantism. And yet, sir, I was not always a Catholic. I remember well when I toddled at my poor mother's apron to our village kirk at home; I remember its time-worn arches, the pointed windows, and the gloomy pews; I can remember the venerable minister, with his thin haffets and lyart pow, his benignant face, and smooth Geneva bands; I remember the deep religious awe with which I lent my little voice to swell the choral psalm, and heard him expound who in his youth had heard Knox preach and Spottiswoode declaim! I can remember the grave, attentive faces of the congregation, the laced lairds and plaided shepherds, the young girls who have now become grandmothers, and the old people who are now in their graves--rest them, God!--ay, graved in Scottish earth, where I may never lie. Yes--yes--I can remember the day when I was a stanch Presbyterian, and would have looked--like you--with horror on the cross and eagle of the Empire. But if you knew all that I owe to the Church of Rome, you might pardon me for having rushed into its arms. Early in life, my misfortunes--it matters not what they were, or how they came about--made me, with others--a slave in Barbary. There I remained for five long years. Oh! what years these were, of hardship and repining; of toil and stripes; of hunger and mortification; of pain of body and agony of mind. Yet no effort was made by our countrymen in Scotland to relieve us, though we were numerous--gentlemen, seamen, and merchants--chained together like felons or wild beasts...... As Christian men--though Scots, heretics, and Presbyterians--ten of us were redeemed from slavery by the poor monks of the blessed Order of Redemption. Those true servants of God brought us to the Italian shore, and there upon the sands of Porto Fino, just where the Levanter landed us, on our knees we vowed to fight for that religion which had saved us from a life that was worse than a thousand deaths. We joined the army of the Emperor Ferdinand II.--ten of us--all privates in a troop of Lindesay's Scottish Reitres. We fought against the Elector Frederick, against Mansfeldt, old Sir Andrew Gray, and the Margravine of Anspach; hewing our way through Lusatia, Upper Austria, and the Palatinate of Bohemia. The storming of Frankenthal saw the ninth of my comrades slain, and me a captain; the siege of Bergen-op-zoom saw me a colonel of pikes. I was sergeant-major di battaglia, under Don Gonzalez de Cordova in Hainault, and am now Camp Master-general and Count of Carlstein, Lord of Geizer and Koningratz, under the Black Eagle. I believe, young gentleman, you will acknowledge that I owe these old monks of Redemption much; for I should have waited long enough, if I had tarried until some of our Scottish ministers came to Barbary to release me, to heal my scars and break my fetters. But enough of these prosy explanations," he added loftily, haughtily--almost fiercely; "I have saved your lives, when I might have left you both to your fate. Taunt me not with the loss of those poor fellows at Boitzenburg--for they had a fair warning to march off without firing a shot, or being fired on--to withstand an assault and risk extermination."

"May I ask to what family you belong, and what is your Scottish name, Sir Count?"

"I belong to a family that never regretted my loss, so I disown it," he replied bitterly. "The Imperialists call me _Rupert-with-the-Red-Plume_; but what is your name, and who are your family?"

"Like your own, count, my family were not much distressed by my departure; so their name matters little--their memory less; but our Highlandmen call me Philip M'Combich, which means Philip, the son of _my friend_."

The Count laughed at this mode of retorting upon his reserve, saying--

"Well, well, let us each keep our little secrets; but here we are arrived at last. This is my temporary chateau, and a very comfortable one you will find it."

With their copper vanes glittering in the moonlight, the highpointed and old-fashioned gables of a hall now appeared above some thick copsewood. Entering an avenue of old beech-trees, we were alternately in light and shadow as we passed their ivied stems; we came to a broad fosse full of long reeds and wild water-plants, chiefly floating lilies, and over this we passed by an old and moss-green bridge of stone, at the end of which was an archway surmounted by armorial bearings which proved afterwards to be those of my friend, the Baron Karl of Klosterfiord, one of whose mansions on the Luneburg side of the Elbe had been appropriated by the Imperialists as the quarters of the Count of Carlstein and a troop of Reitres, whose horses were stabled in all the lower apartments where the doors would admit them.

The vast and irregular façade of the old chateau, with its broad balconies, its steeple-like turrets and indented gables, was bathed in white moonlight, a number of noisy and half-armed soldiers thronged the courts, or played at dice and shovelboard, over cans of German beer in the stone chambers on the ground floor, where they burned large fires on the tesselated pavement, and recklessly were never in want of fuel, while doors, windows, and furniture lasted.

As we entered the court, two young ladies in light-coloured dresses appeared at the upper balcony, and waved their handkerchiefs to the Count, whom I immediately concluded to be as gay as other generals of Ferdinand II. I was surprised, however, at not seeing more of the fair sex, for a vast number followed the soldiers of the Catholic League; and there are several instances of their garrisons, which, on obtaining permission to march out with the honours of war, brought away more women than men--death-hunters and ammunition-wives. In morality the Imperialists formed a strong contrast to the armies of the Protestant champions, Christian of Denmark and Gustavus of Sweden, who would not permit camp-followers of any description to hang upon the skirts of their forces.

Under their black iron helmets, the tipsy Reitres of Carlstein savagely eyed poor Dandy Dreghorn, who kept close by my side as we crossed the quadrangle to the door of the vestibule, where the count kindly assisted me to dismount, and gave me his arm to lean upon when ascending the stair. Dandy was following us closely, when the count desired a greyhaired lance-spesade of the troop, whom he called Gustaf Spürrledter, to "take him among the soldiers, and be answerable for his safety and comfort, limb for limb--and body for body."

We entered a brilliantly lighted room, where a magnificent supper was laid, with covers for three; it was waiting for the count, towards whom the young ladies sprang with a cry of joy, and embraced him--

"My daughters," said he; "Ensign Mac--upon my word, I forget your name!"

I bowed, and tottered to a seat, for the effect of my contusion, and the ride on horseback over a villanous road, were telling severely upon me now.

I could only perceive that one lady was very dark, that the other was fair, and that both looked kindly and pityingly upon me.

"Off with his helmet, girls!" said the count, "and bring him a cup of wine."

I felt my steel cap removed, then a deluge of warm blood spread over my eyes, and blinded me. A cry burst from the young ladies.

"Poor boy!" I heard the count saying; "poor boy! Ho, Gustaf Spürrledter--away with him to bed--quick there below!"