CHAPTER V.

LADY REGINA ARRIVES AT KORSHOLM.

All who had life and sound limbs in Vasa had gone down to the shore, to see the uncommon sight of a man-of-war. Five or six hundred people lined the shore--rowed out in boats, climbed the masts of the vessels, or got on the roofs of the warehouses to get a better view.

Two hundred recruits regarded with mixed feelings the vessel which was perhaps destined to take them from their Fatherland for ever. Behind them stood a large crowd of mothers, sisters, and sweethearts, crying bitterly at the thought of the approaching separation.

The Commissary-General, Ulfsparre, was away in Sweden. The next authority, Steward Peder Thun, as well as the military commander, received the new-comers; the recruits formed in ranks, and the captain of the "Maria Eleonora" offered his arm courteously to Lady Regina, to escort her to Korsholm. But at this moment the proud young girl felt that she was a prisoner; she declined the officer's arm, and walked alone with a royal bearing between the ranks of the recruits and the gaping crowd.

Such a strange sight put the whole town in a great commotion. In a moment the strangest rumours about her arose and spread.

"She is an Austrian princess," said some; "the Emperor's daughter, taken prisoner during the war, and sent here for safety."

Others pretended she was the Queen Maria Eleonora; but why did she come to Korsholm?

"I will tell you," said one, whispering with an important air to another. "She is in league with her German countrymen against the king, and therefore she is to be confined in remote Korsholm."

"That is not true," rejoined another, who had heard some vague stories of the conspiracies against the king's life. "It is," added he in a low voice, as if fearing to be heard by the object of his remarks, "a nun from Walskland, hired by the Jesuits to make away with the king. Six times she has given him deadly poison, and six times he has been warned in dreams not to drink. When she offered him the draught for the seventh time, the king drew his sword and forced her to swallow her own poison."

"Then how can she be here alive?" said an old lady very innocently.

"Alive!" repeated the story-teller, without being put out in any degree; "oh, that is another matter. These creatures can dissemble to such an extent... Yes, indeed; do you remember the Hollanders last year, how they bolted molten lead? I do not wish to say anything, but just look--the black-haired nun is as pale as death!"

"Has she given the king poison?" cried a trembling female voice close behind.

It was Meri, who with bated breath had listened to every word.

"What rubbish!" said a sea-captain with a mysterious knowing air. "When I was at Stralsund, last spring, I saw those eyes, which one cannot easily forget. The girl was then taken to Stockholm, and one of the guards told me the entire story. She is a Spanish witch, who has sold herself to the evil one, in order to be the most beautiful woman on earth for seven years. Look at her: do you not see that the devil has kept his word? Take care; in those eyes there is something that charms and bewitches. When she became as beautiful as she is now, she entered the Swedish camp, and gave the king a love-potion, so that he could neither see or hear anyone else but herself for seven whole weeks. His generals thought this a sin and shame, and the enemy pressed them sorely; so one night they took her secretly and sent her to spend the seven enchanted years at Korsholm."

"Did the king love her?" asked Meri with emotion.

"Of course he did," answered the blunt sea-captain.

"Did she also love the king?"

"What is there more curious than a woman? How the deuce do you expect me to know all about it? The foul-fiend is wiser than other folks, that is certain. She gave the king a copper ring..."

"With seven circles inside each other, and three letters engraved on the plate..."

"What the devil do you know about that? I have heard of the seven circles, but not of the plate."

Meri took a deep breath. "He wears it still!" she said to herself with a great joy.

Meri was superstitious, like all the people of that period. She never doubted the existence of witches, enchantments, and love potions; but this strange dark girl, who loved the king and was beloved by him in return ... was she really guilty of the horrible things they said about her? The poor forgotten one was seized with the most violent wish to approach this extraordinary being, who had been so near the great monarch. Each moment was precious. In a few hours she must return to Storkyro. She took heart and followed the stranger to Korsholm.

The old residence inside the ramparts, in spite of its fine outlook, was more sombre than magnificent. Frequent changes of Stadtholders, who only lived there a little while at a time, had given to the double-storied granite building, with its side wings for prisoners, a terribly deserted appearance. It certainly more resembled a jail than a great governor's residence. The dreariness was increased by its present inhabitants, stern Fru Marta, with her aged maid-servants, some invalid soldiers, and gruff jailors. Had Gustaf Adolf recollected the condition of the place, he would probably not have sent his young prisoner to such a depressing abode.

Fru Marta expected her guest, who had been described to her as a dangerous and depraved young person, of superhuman cunning. She had, therefore, prepared a little dark chamber within her own for Lady Regina and her attendant, and made up her mind to keep the closest watch on the wild young lady. Fru Marta was a good, honest soul, but sharp and severe like a lady of the old school, who had brought up all her children with the rod. It never entered her mind that a lonely, defenceless, and forsaken young girl, isolated in a strange land, needed a comforting, sympathetic hand and motherly kindness; Fru Marta felt that discipline ought to tame a spoilt child, and then milder treatment could be introduced.

When Lady Regina, accustomed to the freedom of the sea, entered this gloomy dwelling, an involuntary shudder passed through her slight frame. This feeling remained when she was received on the threshold by the old lady, in a close linen cap and a long dark woollen cloak.

No doubt Lady Regina's inclination of the head was somewhat stiff, and her whole bearing somewhat reserved, when she greeted Fru Marta on the castle steps. But Fru Marta was not intimidated by it. She took the young girl by both hands, shook them vigorously, and nodded a greeting, about half-way between a welcome and a menace. Then she surveyed her guest from head to foot, and the result of the examination was muttered aloud:

"Figure like a princess ... no harm; eyes black as a gipsy's ... no evil; skin as white as milk ... no mischief; proud ... ah, ah, that is bad; we shall be two about that, my young friend."

Regina impatiently made a motion to proceed, but Fru Marta did not let go her hold.

"Wait a bit, my dear," said the stern dame, as she endeavoured to recollect her ancient stock of German words; "it takes time to go a long way. One who crosses my threshold must not be taller than the door-post. Better to bend in youth than creep in old age. There ... that's the way for a young girl to greet one who is older and wiser..."

And before Lady Regina knew it, the strong old lady had put her right hand on her neck, her left against her waist, and with a sudden pressure, forced her proud guest to bow as deeply as one could desire.

Lady Regina's pale cheeks were covered with a flush as red as the sunset sky before a storm. More erect and prouder than before rose the girl's slender figure, and her dark eyes flashed fire. She said nothing, but old Dorthe was determined to give Fru Marta a lesson in politeness on her mistress' behalf. She advanced with lively southern gesticulations, and screamed, beside herself with anger:

"Miserable Finnish witch, how dare you treat a high-born lady in such a manner? Do you know, vile jailor, whom you have the honour of receiving in your house? You do not! Then I will tell you. This is the exalted Lady Regina von Emmeritz, _née_ Princess of Emmeritz, Hohenloe, and Saalfield, Countess of Wertheim and Bischoffshöhe, heiress of Dettelsbach and Kissingen, &c. Her father was the Prince of Emmeritz, who owned more castles than you, miserable wretch, have huts in your town. Her mother was Princess Würtemberg, related to the Electoral House of Bavaria, and her still living uncle, the Right Reverend Bishop of Würzburg, is lord of Marienburg, and the town of Würzburg, with all the lands belonging to it. You take advantage of us because your heretic king has taken our land and town, and made us prisoners; but the day will come when St. George and the Holy Virgin will descend and destroy you, you heathen; and if you harm a hair of our heads, this castle shall be levelled to the ground, and you, miserable witch, and your whole town, annihilated ..."

It is probable that old Dorthe's outpourings would not have come to an end for some time, had not Fru Marta made a sign to her servants, at which they carried off the old woman without any ceremony, and in spite of her strenuous resistance, to one of the small rooms on the lower floor, where she was left to herself to further reflect upon the high lineage of her young lady.

But Fru Marta took the astonished Regina, half by force, half voluntarily, by the arm, and led her to the allotted room near her own, with a view over the town. Here the stern old lady left her for the present, yet not without adding the following admonitions at the door:

"I can tell you, my young friend, to obey is better than to weep; the bird that sings too early in the morning is in the claws of the hawk before evening. Follow the laws of the country you are in. It is now seven o'clock. At eight supper is served, at nine you go to bed, and at four in the morning you get up, and if you don't know how to card and spin, I will give you some sewing, so that time shall not hang heavy on your hands. Then we will talk together, and when your waiting woman learns to hold her tongue you may have her back again. Good night; don't forget to say your prayers; a psalm Prayer Book lies on the dressing-table."

With these words Fru Marta shut the door, and Lady Regina was alone. Solitary, imprisoned, in a foreign land, left to the mercy of a hard keeper ... her thoughts were of the most depressing kind. Lady Regina fell on her knees, and prayed to the saints, not from the heretic Prayer Book, but with the rosary of rubies which her uncle, the bishop, had formerly given her as sponsor. What did she pray for? Only Heaven and the black walls of Korsholm know that; but a sympathetic heart can imagine her petitions. She prayed for the saints' assistance; for the victory of her faith and the downfall of the heretics; she prayed also that the saints might convert King Gustaf Adolf to the only saving Church; that he, another Saul, might become another Paul. Finally she prayed for freedom and protection ... the hours fled; her supper was brought in, and still she continued her supplications.

At last Lady Regina arose and looked out of the little window. There lay a landscape in the sunset glow; it was not Franconia, with its luxuriant vineyards; it was not the rushing Main; the town yonder was not rich Würzburg, with its rows of cloisters and high turret spires. It was poor, pale Finland, with an arm of its sea; it was young little Vasa, with its church, Mustasaari, the oldest in East Bothnia; one could plainly see the reflection of the sun on the small Gothic windows, of stained glass belonging to Catholic times, and it seemed to Regina as if she saw the transfigured saints looking out from their former temple. And at this moment, had not the eye of the setting sun itself such a beatific look, as it serenely gazed down upon the world's strife! All was silent and still--the evening glow, the landscape's pretty verdure, the newly mown fields with their rows of sheaves, the small red houses with their shining windows--all conduced to devotion and peace.

Suddenly, Lady Regina heard in the distance a mild, plaintive song, simple and unaffected, as if proceeding from nature's own heart, on a lonely evening, with a setting sun on the shore of a silent sea, when all sweet memories awaken in a longing breast. At first she did not listen, but it came nearer ... now it was obstructed by a cottage wall, now by a group of hanging birches; now it was heard again, high, clear, and free; and finally one could distinguish the words.