CHAPTER IV.

LADY REGINA'S OATH.

The next day was one of hot and furious battle. The Swedes bombarded the castle with a heavy fire, and drew near to the walls under the cover of earthworks. The Imperial troops fought well. Time was precious for both sides; in a few days Tilly would be in the rear of Gustaf Adolf; a possible thunder-bolt to the Swedes; a certain relief for the garrison.

Lady Regina and her attendants were now shut up in the inner rooms, and could no longer view the extraordinary spectacle of the siege. But there was much to do within. Large numbers of wounded had to be nursed; the young lady moved like a spirit of light from couch to couch in the armoury, where the wounded had been placed; her healing hands poured balm on their wounds; her compassionate voice poured consolation into their hearts. She spoke of the Holy Faith for which they suffered; promised honours and rewards to those who recovered, and eternal salvation to the dying.

The heavy artillery thunder made the walls tremble. Lady Regina suddenly remembered that she had left her rosary up in the little turret, and it was now needed for the prayers of the dying. She had already reached the threshold of the armoury, when a terrific crash shook the castle to its very base. Pale with fear, she hesitated, and at the same moment the Count of Lichtenstein rushed in.

"What has happened?" exclaimed the young lady.

"Thank the saints, my fair cousin, that you took my advice yesterday. The turret has fallen."

"Then we are lost."

"Not yet. The Swedes thought it would fall into the moat, but it has fallen inside. The enemy will soon try an assault. Come to this window which overlooks the walls. Can you see? Father Hieronymus is on his knees by the large gun. I will wager that he sees the Swedish king."

The count was right. The Jesuit's keen glance was fixed on one spot, and his lips hastily muttered prayer after prayer. He had discovered Gustaf Adolf on horseback with Pehr Brahe. The two kept near the outworks, sheltered somewhat by a heap of debris. Father Hieronymus relied upon the heavy shot, into which, with prayers and fasting, he had run the gold from the Holy Mother's mantle. He stooped to direct the cannon, and the pupils of his eyes contracted, his nostrils expanded, while Latin prayers continued to flow from his lips. Then he rose quickly, and after swinging the lighted match in the form of a cross, fired.

The gun belched forth flame and smoke. Oh, hate and fury! When the smoke cleared off, the two horsemen still rode unharmed side by side. But this time Gustaf Adolf had a narrow escape, for the ball had struck the debris, and covered both with dust.

Tired, weary, and quite exasperated, the Jesuit left the ramparts.

"Wait, ruler of Belial, until I succeed in taking your ring from you, and then you shalt be destroyed!"

The king now commanded an assault on the outworks. Axel Lilje, Jacob Ramsay, and Hamilton, pressed on with their men. Frightful difficulties were here encountered. They were obliged to climb up the steep rocks under a heavy fire, and then cross the moat and scale the walls. The irresistible Scots and Finns led the way. Those who fell were immediately replaced by others, with their swords between their teeth. The king himself rode as near as possible in order to encourage his troops. A bullet tore away a piece of his glove, without wounding him. It was now a common belief that Gustaf Adolf was invulnerable.

At last, after two hours desperate conflict, the Scots and the Finns triumphed. The outworks were captured, and the defenders driven back into the castle. It was then four in the afternoon.

A few hours rest ensued. At a council of war it was resolved to storm the castle at daybreak, and the Finns were to lead the forlorn hope.

The position of the garrison was far from hopeless. They could still concentrate 1,000 men at any threatened point. But they had lost their moral courage. In vain did Keller try to restore their spirits; in vain did the monks carry the golden image of the Virgin around the ramparts. At nightfall disorder reigned; the troops refused to obey orders, and some wished to escape in the darkness.

At midnight, Lady Regina was praying before the altar in the chapel to the mother of God.

"Holy Mary," she whispered, "guard this castle against the heretics. But if it be thy will that the fortress shall fall, then also bury in its ruins all thy enemies: the godless king, and his heathen Finns who have fought the most to-day against thy Holy Cause."

"Amen!" said the voice of Father Hieronymus behind her. A dark smile played over his pale countenance.

"Do you realise what you are asking for, my daughter?"

"Victory for the Catholic faith. Death to the heretics."

"The youthful mind is subject to change. Have you sufficient devotion to hate the enemies of the faith, even if ever, as a woman, you felt tempted to love one of them?"

"I have, my father; yes, I declare it!"

"You are my penitent, and I would save your soul from eternal damnation. Have you courage to sacrifice yourself for the holy faith, and thereby secure the eternal crown of a martyr?"

"Yes, my father!"

"Very well; then know that the fortress will be taken in a short time. You will be a prisoner; you are young and beautiful, and may easily win the king's favour. When you can approach his person, and the Holy Virgin grants an opportunity, you must----"

The Jesuit now took out a crucifix of silver, and when he pressed a spring in the breast of the image, a keen dagger flew out.

"Grace, my father; this task is terrible.

"No respite. The Holy Church demands a blind obedience. _Perinde ac cadaver_. As a corpse which has no will of its own. Do you love the Holy Virgin?"

"You know that I do."

"Look at her golden robe. She has lost a part of it during the night. It is a bad omen, and indicates her anger. Do you love me also, my daughter?"

"I revere you more than anyone else, my father."

"Then look at this mutilated head."

The Jesuit removed his black leather cap, and exposed the horrible stumps of two severed ears.

"Thus have the blasphemous king's Finns treated your confessor and friend. Do you still hesitate to avenge the mother of God and myself?"

"What must I do, my father?"

"Listen! The heretic king wears on his right forefinger a ring of copper; this is a talisman against death and injury. You must gain possession of this ring by some artifice, and then if your arm is too weak to deal the blow, call upon me. We will reach his heart, even if it was guarded by a dragon's scales."

"If it is the will of the saints ... so be it."

"Place two fingers on this crucifix, and repeat this oath. I swear by this cross, and by all the saints, to accomplish what I now vow before the image of the Holy Virgin. If I ever break this oath, may a curse rest upon me and my posterity to the seventh generation.

"Thy will be done on earth, as it is done in Heaven. Amen!"

Lady Regina faithfully repeated these words after the monk.

The night's silence sealed this terrible oath, which, with iron fetters, chained the coming generations to the hesitating decision of a girl of sixteen.

While this passed, the troops of stormers assembled in the outworks. A number of volunteers had obtained permission to join them. All relied upon victory.

Among the volunteers appeared Lieutenant Bertel.

"Thunder and lightning! is that you, Bertel?" exclaimed Lieutenant Larsson.

"As you see," said the youth, shaking his hand cordially.

"Well, I declare, the good boy wishes to sport his new commission. There's not a single drop left in my flask. But say, why have you changed your name, Bertel? What sort of a mixture is it? neither Swedish or Finnish."

"It was done at Breitenfeld," said Bertel, slightly blushing. "The comrades have long called me so, and--it is shorter."

"Well, I hope you are not too proud to bear a peasant's name, now you are an officer?"

"Have the lots already been drawn?" said Bertel.

"No. You are just in time to try your luck."

As all the younger officers desired the honour of leading the forlorn hope, the difficulty was settled by drawing lots. After these were shaken up in a helmet, Bertel was the successful competitor.

"Look out for yourself, my boy!" cried little Larsson. "Thunder and lightning, remember that the castle is full of Jesuits. Trap-doors everywhere, a dagger in every crucifix, and at the moment of victory the castle will be blown up."

It was half an hour to the dawn. Bertel with seven men was ordered to closely reconnoitre the fortress. The rest of the troops were held in readiness.

The night was pitch dark. Bertel's men approached the drawbridge without being challenged: To their complete astonishment they found it down.*

* Some authors say that the drawbridge could not be drawn up on account of the weight of the many dead who were left there after the strife.

Bertel stopped for an instant, remembering Larsson's warnings. Was this a trap? All was silent. Then Bertel and his men stepped softly over the bridge.

"Who goes there?" thundered a German sentinel through the darkness.

"Swede!" cried Bertel, cleaving his head. "Comrades, the castle is ours!"

And the seven pushed on resolutely after him.

Inside the drawbridge stood two hundred Imperialists on guard. These became panic-stricken and thought the whole Swedish army was upon them. They tried to regain the sally-port, but the bold lieutenant and his seven men opposed them. The darkness in the arched gateway was impenetrable; friend could not be distinguished from foe. The press soon became so great that no sword could be used, and the rash assailants were in danger of being crushed to death by the rushing host of mailed warriors.

But those in the outworks had heard Bertel's cry, and the whole Swedish force now rushed against the castle; the rest of the garrison seized their weapons and hastened to defend the entrance. But the Finns had obtained a footing, and in a short time stood inside the castle yard. Keller and his men fought desperately, and many Swedes and Finns fell here, at the very moment of victory. Their fall excited their countrymen to revenge. They began to cry, "Magdeburger pardon," and this shout meant death without quarter to all the Imperialists. The carnage became awful. Many monks threw themselves into the mêlée, some with torches, some sword in hand. Most were cut down, others cast themselves on the ground feigning death. Day had broken over the sanguinary scene.

Then Lennart Torstensson started forward, seized the madly struggling Keller round the waist, and took him prisoner. The remainder of the Imperialists laid down their arms, and all was over.