CHAPTER XX.

THE HIGHLAND OUTPOST.

Through tracts of level land, as yet unscathed by war; along bridle-roads, bordered by rich meadows and comfortable farmhouses; and through little towns, that were as picturesque and as pretty as bright red bricks, spotless plaster, and paint could make them, we rode back by the way we had come. On one side lay the gulf; on the other, occasional tarns and groves of wood, covering the gentle slopes that rose almost imperceptibly from the margin of the dark blue sea. Yet the denizens of those pleasant places were all bondsmen; and, without consent of the lord from whom they held their _hufe_ by tenure, could neither marry nor give in marriage, become craftsmen, or engage in service elsewhere than in the land on which they were born.

All those places, too, swarmed with supernatural inhabitants, who were a source of terror to the poor peasantry. The little hillocks were inhabited by wicked and avaricious but industrious Trolds; the moors, by tall, pale, and beautiful Elle women, who attracted young men by their winning gestures, and then breathed on their faces to make them sicken and die. All the wells and lakes were enchanted--here a fiery dragon watched the ransom of a king; there the wild huntsman kennelled his black hounds;--here dwelt a witch who sold fair winds; there a devil who wrought all manner of mischief. But at that time our minds were full of other things; and we rode round the margin of the Kielerfiörd, accompanied by the tall priest, whose long legs, as he bestrode his mule, almost reached to the ground on each side.

"I have heard that Carlstein freed you without ransom, after being taken prisoner in Luneburg," said Kœningheim.

"Without ransom!--I need scarcely thank him for that, being so poor that I might have remained captive until the day of doom. I could only give the good count my thanks, and leave him my best wishes."

"And your heart, too--is it not so? Well, I must not be less generous; besides, the Emperor has more prisoners at Vienna than he knows what to do with. Your comrades have landed, as I mentioned, some twenty miles down the gulf, and are there forming a sconce, with what object, and for what service, the brave King Christian only knows; but, before returning to Kiel, I shall see you safe within pistol-shot of his outposts."

"Count," said I, "you shall ever be remembered among my dearest friends."

"Among soldiers friendship soon ripens, and a short acquaintance goes a long way. Is it not so, Father Ignatius?"

The Jesuit was too much occupied by his own thoughts to make any reply.

"Do not omit to impress upon poor Ernestine, that before another week is past, if her sister is between the Elbe and the Limfiörd, she shall be free, and the insults she has suffered will be dearly avenged; for the old count is coming, and Merodé cannot escape us both."

"Have you no kinder message than this?"

"I know of none that would be more welcome--from me, at least. Besides," said he, turning with a bitter curl on his fine lip; "what other message would you have me send by you to the woman you love? There is somewhat of a sneer in the question, Captain Rollo, and you might have spared me that. Suppose, now, that I had committed to your charge the most warm and ardent messages of love, fidelity, and so forth; would they have been welcome to your ears? would they have been pleasant to your memory? would they have been faithfully, and without diminution, conveyed to Ernestine?"

"They would have been pleasant neither to my ear nor to my memory," I replied; "yet, on my honour, I would have conveyed them faithfully to her."

"Acknowledge, however, that you asked for what you had no wish to hear."

"I confess that I did."

"Then, be assured, I have no such messages to send to Ernestine. For her I have indeed a true and tender love; but only such as I have for her sister--or as a father or brother might have for them both. Count Rupert is one of my oldest and earliest friends. He was my tutor and patron under Mansfeldt and Sir John Hepburn in the Flemish war. He would gladly see us more nearly and clearly connected than by the mere ties of comraderie, but that can never be; and Ernestine, with whom rumour has so often done me the honour to link my name, knows that well--though she knows not the reason why."

These words filled me with joy; for Kœningheim had so much that was brilliant and fascinating about him, that, had we both assailed the heart of Ernestine at the same time, I fear me much that the poor captain of Scottish musketeers, might have had but a poor chance of success when competing with the accomplished noble of the German empire.

"The reason--the reason," he continued, muttering under his thick mustaches: "Ah--Christi Creutz be about me!--if she, or thou, or he knew it, how you would all shrink from me!"

This was scarcely spoken--yet we heard it; and the priest bent his keen grey eyes on the count, whose gaze was lowered on the mane of his horse; for the memory of years long past was rising before him, and his thoughts were turned inward.

"Let us change the subject," said the Jesuit, bending over his mule towards me; "the gloomy fiend is uppermost, and his dark thoughts are upon him."

Amid Kœningheim's forced gaiety, I had frequently perceived a melancholy enthusiasm; at times, his laugh would cease abruptly, and his brow would knit; then his eye became clouded, and his voice sad. What secret thought was this that preyed upon the soul of the naturally gay and gallant soldier, souring his manner, and prematurely silvering his dark and curly hair? I was perplexed and interested; but courtesy compelled me to conceal what I observed. Animated by the same feeling, and to change the conversation, the Jesuit told us a legend concerning St. Knud, which he had lately learned from the MSS. of an old brother of his order. It related to the adventures of his saint, when first he came thither to preach among the Sclavi, who of old inhabited all Holstein, which derives its name from _holt_, an ancient word for a forest, the whole promontory of Chersonesus Cimbrica being then covered by dense woods of pine and beech, extending from the Baltic to the Western Sea.

Marvelling sorely at the wildness of the country and its inhabitants, St. Knud came to a place where there was a little green valley between two hills, which were covered to their summits by foliage, and there a little figure suddenly approached him.

Unlike the painted Sclavi, who were naked, or clad only in the skins of bears, and armed with bows and spears of flint, the mannikin wore a grey doublet with large horn buttons, and an enormous red cap, which was nearly three feet in diameter, though he was barely two feet in height. He had a large and solemn visage, a long hooked nose, a back with a prodigious hump, and a heavy paunch; he carried a flute about twice the length of himself, whereon he began to play melodiously at the approach of the saint, who, on hearing the music, felt his feet beginning to trip; and had he not signed the cross in time, nathless his sacred character, his palmer's gown, which had lain for a time in the holy sepulchre, his staff, which had been cut on Mount Calvary, and his escallop from the shores of Galilee (for St. Knud had just returned from Jerusalem), he would have been compelled to dance like all who heard the fairy music of this grotesque little gnome, who was king and liege lord of all the Trolds in Denmark.

On beholding the sign of the cross, the Trold stamped his little foot with rage, and broke his immense flute into a hundred pieces, all of which vanished with a shrill sound.

"By that sign, I know thou shalt conquer!" said the imp, passionately.

"Who art thou that knowest this?" asked St. Knud.

"I am called Skynde, king of the Trolds," said the mannikin, under his enormous mustaches, which, with his beard, resembled a frozen waterfall, "and I am come to meet thee in the name of all the underground people, whom thy coming hath alarmed; and we hope to sign a peace or truce with thee, that we may not be driven out of this pleasant land, where we have dwelt since the waters of the flood subsided, and permitted us to crawl out of the crannies of the great ark--yea, ages before the days of Dan, son of Humble--ages before the Cimbri, the Goths, or the Jutes had a name, or came beyond the green rampart of the Danesvark. We are kind and benevolent to all who do not molest us; but savage and revengeful to those who do. Your Maker is also ours, for when he created men, he also made the happier little Trolds, and a thousand other spirits which such gross eyes as thine cannot see; but if thou wilt pray to this good Master for us--but not against us--we will never molest thee, nor thy servants, nor followers, even unto the end of time."

Then the saint promised that he would pray every day for the little Trolds of the land; and thereupon King Skynde threw up his red cap with joy, and again stamped with his feet. Then two little imps, each about a foot in height, bare-armed and bare-legged, with leather aprons, and beards descending to their knees, and all begrimmed with smoke and dust (for they had just ascended from some fairy forge far down in the bowels of the earth), appeared, bearing between them a large goblet of gold, and, staggering under its weight, with their leather aprons they gave a last polish to the magnificent chasings which adorned it, and, scrambling down a mole-track, disappeared.

"Brother Knud," said the elfin king, with grave majesty, as he placed his hand upon the edge of the cup, which was higher than his girdle, "take this goblet; it is one of thousands made by my smiths; keep it for the first church you build in Holstein; and rest assured, while it remains in the land of the Sclavi, thy good people shall never be molested by the Trolds."

"This cup," continued the priest, "or one said to be it, is still shown in the convent of St. Knud at Eckernfiörd; and, whether it be the fairy goblet or not, we must acknowledge that never did mortal hands frame a more magnificent chalice."

Father Ignatius had just reached this point in his story, when, as we passed Kiel on our left, his eye observed the human figure still dangling from the lofty spire, with the crows flying in circles round it. With some asperity, he asked the count what this display meant; and Kœningheim, who long before this had recovered his equanimity of mind and calm, intrepidity of manner, replied briefly--

"A Dane, whom we strung up as you see, for guiding a night attack."

The priest expressed great indignation at this unnecessary barbarity.

"Count, count!" said he; "I could have expected better things from you."

"Nay, good father," he replied, "do not chide me for this. Condemned by a court-martial, the man was hanged by our provost, who may have exceeded his duty by hanging him higher than usual. But you may order him to be interred the moment you enter Kiel."

Saying that such ferocities disgraced the armies of the Empire, the priest bade us adieu, and, whipping up his mule, turned off towards Kiel, and his tall figure was long visible as he threaded his way between the neglected fields; for the poor Holsteiners being doubtful who might reap, were omitting to till or sow their fertile land in many places.

Had he continued with us, the priest would have had fresh cause for indignation; for when with our four dragoons we entered Lytjenbürg, which a regiment of Imperialists had just quitted, we found one of the magistrates hanging by the neck in the market-place. Here, as elsewhere in Holstein, there stood a bronze figure of Justice, having a sword in one hand, with a rod in the other; and, to a hand of this figure, a lieutenant-colonel of Tilly's Croatian horse had appended the burgomaster for some real or imaginary insult.

Notwithstanding the rage and horror this had excited among the people, Kœningheim, who was a daring and reckless fellow, rode right through the town (which is one of the most ancient in the duchy), and halted at the door of an inn which bore the sign of _Wildbrat_, the famous dog of Christian I., which proved more faithful than all the king's courtiers, and thus gave a name and motto to the noblest of Danish orders. Dinner was ordered, and promptly served up, with the best of Rhenish, Neckar, and Moselle, the former being nearly ninety years old at least, so it was averred by the host, who had not the least idea that he was ever to be paid for the good cheer he was providing. In that, however, he was mistaken, for Kœningheim--an honourable soldier of fortune--paid like a prince; and, after giving refreshments to the four dragoons who had kept guard at the door, we again set forth, and, just as darkness was closing, came in sight of King Christian's outposts by the Kielerfiörd.

The sun had set, enveloped in clouds; there was no moon visible; the cold grey sky had gradually become an inky black one, and the level shore with its bordering woods was shrouded in dusky obscurity; but within cannon-shot of it the Danish fleet were lying at anchor. One mile from the shore, on advantageous ground, the king had formed a strong redoubt, banked up with earth and palisades, mounted with cannon, and garrisoned by a thousand men under his own immediate orders. These men consisted of my own regiment and three companies of Dutch. His fleet protected them on the seaward, and their cannon and situation on a hillock rendered it inacessible from the landward. On the road to Kiel, and in other directions, he had posted out-guards, and perdues were scattered beyond them.*

* Out-picquets with advanced sentinels.

From the summit of a knoll over which the roadway wound, and between two thickets of trees, which, together with the darkness of the night, completely concealed us, we could distinctly perceive, far down in the hollow, between us and the redoubt, a guard of soldiers bivouacked round a watch-fire.

Thanking Kœningheim for his kind escort, and expressing regret that I did not possess even a tester to give his dragoons, that thev might have a can of Rostock beer on their return, I now begged that he would leave me, being so near my comrades that I could reach them in perfect safety, while to him the vicinity was full of peril. He assented to this, and, after looking at the outpost through his Galileo glass, handed it to me, and I was glad to perceive by it that the soldiers around the watch-fire belonged to my own regiment.

By the red glow which the blazing fire shed on the green trees of an adjacent wood, and the grassy meadow beyond, I could perceive my brave comrades standing in groups, with their steel accoutrements glittering, or rolled in their tartan plaids, and resting on the sward between their piles of arms; while far in front, upon the roadway, were two advanced sentinels, standing motionless and still as they leaned against their pikes, the points of which glittered like red stars in the light of the wavering fire.

"Now, farewell, Kœningheim," said I, dismounting, and handing the bridle of the horse I had ridden to one of the dragoons (for it belonged to the German cavalry), "on foot I can reach the outpost. Remember to perform all you have promised for the rescue of our poor Gabrielle, and thus complete the kindness of a day which I shall never forget."

"By the way," said he, "did you not tell me that you were without money? My purse is at your service. Take it, Captain Rollo, for one cannot have too much of that ware."

I was about to decline, when a sound that came from the thick underwood which surrounded the knoll, made us pause. Kœningheim stooped his head to listen, and the four German troopers blew the fuses of their musketoons.

"A passing wind has rustled the branches," said Kœningheim, shortening his reins.

"Nay," said I, whose Highland ear had been practised in my native forests to every casual sound; "it was the footsteps of men--for I heard the crackle of decayed wood and withered leaves."

"Then _we_ are too long here," replied Kœningheim, wringing my hand with honest warmth; "farewell!--I will remember all you have said, and all you wish."

"_Ready!_" cried a voice among the trees; "guard pans--present--give fire!"

"Christi Creutz!" cried Kœningheim, as a volley of six muskets streaked with red fire the dark bosom of the coppice, and, struck by six deadly shots, the count and his four German dragoons fell heavily on the turf, while their affrighted horses dashed down the knoll and disappeared. One dragged his rider a considerable way. Then I heard a wild Highland _scraigh_, and Sergeant Diarmed Macgillvray of Drumnaglas, with a patrol of six musketeers, surrounded me.

I cannot express the grief and indignation this occurrence excited within me. With my own hand I could have slain Drumnaglas, had he not given me a warm embrace, and welcome back--as he said--to life and liberty; and had I not been aware that he mistook the count's escort for a reconnoitring party or patrol of the Imperialists, with a Scottish prisoner whom it was his duty to free; and, with the most perfect Highland _sang froid_, he turned over the slain, one after the other, and shook them, saying--

"Tead--tead as a herring, too--Got pless us!"

The count still breathed, but a ball had passed through his breast, beating into the wound a portion of his cuirass and buff coat; thus he suffered the most excruciating agony. But as I still hoped he might live, I desired the Highlanders to cross their fatal muskets, and with their plaids laid over the barrels, to form a temporary bier, on which we conveyed him, groaning heavily and bleeding profusely, to the out-guard, where M'Coll of that Ilk commanded, and from thence to the sconce, where the regiment received me as one who had indeed returned from the dead; for Ian and all the officers had most respectable knots of black crape on their sword-hilts and left arms, in honour of my memory. Even the standard poles had the same grim livery, which was very gratifying to me; as men have seldom an opportunity of beholding the respect paid to their memory when defunct.

"Tell me, Ian," said I, when the congratulations had a little subsided; "has Ernestine heard the rumour of my death?"

"She believes you to be a prisoner in Kiel."

"And these confounded badges of crape--for whom does she believe they are worn?"

"For the Duke of Pomerania, as I told her."

"But old Bagislaus IV. is not dead."

"It matters not--his name was the first that occurred to me."

"Ah! pray, Ian, go--or send some one to say that I am safe--that I am here, and in a few minutes will be by her side."

"Dioul! why not go yourself?"

"I dread the excess of joy----"

"Excess of joy never killed any one, whatever excess of grief may do. Ah! if you only loved yourself half so well as you love this dark-eyed woman----"

"Or as you love Moina," retorted I; for Ian, though he really admired Ernestine, and considered it a duty to love her as his own kinswoman, had never been altogether able to overcome his first prejudices against her foreign taint, as he called her German accent and her Spanish blood.

"Moina dwells by Kilchiuman," said he, "and her eyes have never looked on other hills than those whose shadows darken the waters of the Oich and Garry. Moina is a daughter of the old race; she has no foreign blood in her veins, or strange accents on her tongue."

"But Ernestine is your natural-born kinswoman, and Moina is _not_."

"My kinswoman!--well, so she is--blood is warmer than water, and by the Cairn na cuimihne!" said he, tossing up his bonnet, "I would march to the cannon's mouth for her; but it is a devil of a pity her mother was a stranger--a Spaniard."

"Nay, I think it has been a great improvement on the old Rollo blood; for I am sure that two such beautiful dark eyes were never seen in the old Tower at Cromartie; but while we chatter here like a couple of pyets, poor Kœningheim is enduring, I fear me, the agonies of death."