CHAPTER VI.

THE FINNS AT LECH.

Before our story proceeds further, it is necessary to bestow one more look on Frankfurt.

Lady Regina was closely guarded after her midnight visit to the king; and later in the spring, when the waters were released from their icy fetters, she was sent to Finland, where we may find her again. No religious hatred, still less revenge, prompted the anger of the usually generous Gustaf Adolf towards the young girl; abused confidence deeply stabs a noble heart, and Regina said nothing to remove the idea of her guilt from the king's mind; in fact, she strengthened it more and more by her fanaticism, and hatred still possessed her young heart, which ought to have been given to love alone.

An extraordinary incident increased the king's resentment. On the night that the Jesuit was taken to prison, to be executed next day, the terrible monk escaped; no one knew how. These fearful men had allies and secret emissaries and passages everywhere; that very night a hitherto concealed door was discovered in the king's bed-chamber. Bertel's innocence came to light through this, but the mysterious escape of the monk again excited the king's wrath, and the late lieutenant had still to remain a private soldier.

By the middle of February, 1632, the king was ready for departure; he then took the stronghold at Kreutznach in March, after a short siege, and left the queen, as well as Axel Oxenstjerna, in Mayence. But Tilly had in the meantime surprised Gustaf Horn at Bamberg, and done great mischief. The king pursued him down the Danube, and wished to invade Bavaria by crossing the Lech. In vain did his generals object that the river was too deep and rapid, and that the Elector, with Tilly, Altringer, and 22,000 men, stood on the opposite side. The king spoke like Alexander at the passage of the Granicus.

"Shall we, who have crossed the Elbe, Oder, and Rhine, nay, even the Baltic, stop alarmed at the River Lech?"

The passage was decided upon.

The king tried for some time to find a suitable crossing. At last he discovered it near a bend in the stream; a dragoon disguised as a peasant heard that the Lech was twenty-two feet deep. Trestles were made of timber torn from cabins; four batteries of seventy cannon in all, were erected on the bank, and breastworks thrown up for the skirmishers, while fires of damp straw and green wood enveloped the neighbourhood in thick smoke. Still, Tilly was old and experienced; he soon occupied the wood on the other side with his force; dug trenches and made fortifications, from which he directed a heavy fire. On the 3rd of April the Swedish cannon replied with terrific effect. On April 5th the trestles for a bridge were laid in spite of the fire of the enemy; planks were then thrown across, and, as usual, the Finns led the attack. Three hundred infantry, headed by little Larsson, and the brave Savolaxen Paavo Lyydikain, were ordered to cross the planks, and defend the bridge on the opposite shore; each was promised a reward of ten riks thalers. In a few moments the fate of Bavaria would be decided.

The Finns carried spades and trenching tools, and cheering as they advanced, rushed at the double over the bridge. Immediately a tremendous cross-fire from all Tilly's batteries was directed upon them; every moment balls dropped splashing into the foaming waters, or flew over the charging Finns, and now and then fell amongst them, scattering death on every side. Those who got over worked vigorously at throwing up earthworks, which soon protected their front, although their flanks were still exposed to the enemy's fire.

Tilly realised the importance of this position, and his fire redoubled. The Swedes riddled the opposite wood with a storm of shot, which struck the stones and tree-tops, scattering fragments and branches far and wide upon the Bavarians, who stood underneath awaiting the order to charge. The king, in order to encourage his men, hastened to the front, and himself fired sixty shots. The cannon thunder was heard for miles.

More than half of the Finns had now been killed, wounded, or drowned, but the entrenchments were completed. And at that instant the king ordered the afterwards celebrated Count Carl Gustaf Wrangel to go to their assistance. The Finns, exalted with pride by their countrymen's success, and also anxious for the safety of their comrades, begged eagerly to be led into the midst of the fight, and in a moment Wrangel was surrounded by 300 Finnish volunteers, with whom he heroically charged across the shaking planks. The gallant Duke Bernhard, who, like the king, had a certain partiality for the Finns, received permission to make a diversion in their favour. Followed by a troop of Finnish cavalry, he found and passed over a ford, and fell upon the enemy's right flank. The surprised Bavarians fell into disorder, and in spite of their numerical superiority, gave ground before the attack. Duke Bernhard's troop played havoc with the enemy, and soon cut their way through to their comrades at the end of the bridge. Through this daring exploit the Finns obtained the dreaded name, "Hackapeliter," from the words "hakkaa päälle!" Go Ahead! which they shouted as they charged.

Stimulated by the Finns' success, the Swedish and German infantry now began to cross the bridge. Tilly, avoiding exposing his troops to the murderous Swedish fire till the last moment, now sent Altringer's infantry to take the fortifications, and drive the enemy into the river. The Bavarians advanced at the double, and although decimated by the hail of bullets, threw themselves furiously on the earthworks.

Wrangel's men stood firm. Almost enveloped by the enemy's massive column, the Finns gave them a hot reception. Pouring in a deadly volley at fifty yards, every bullet told. The Bavarians wavered for a moment; most of them were new recruits; they faltered. The Finns got time to reload; another volley; and the assailants fled in disorder along the bank. Altringer rallied them with great difficulty, and again led them to the onset; at that moment a cannon-shot whizzed so close to his head that he fell senseless to the ground. Again the Bavarians gave way. Tilly saw this, and sent his favourite Wallachians to their assistance. But even these veterans had to retreat, so terrific was the fire. Then Tilly seized a banner, and led the attack in person. Before, however, he had taken many steps, he fell, struck down by a falconet ball, which had smashed one leg. The old general was carried from the field, and died a fortnight afterwards at Ingolstadt.

The Bavarian army now became utterly demoralised. The Elector retreated under cover of the darkness, leaving 2,000 dead on the field, and the way open to the heart of Bavaria.

Next day the entire Swedish army crossed the Lech. The king with a liberal hand distributed rewards to his brave troops. Amongst these was a horseman who had accompanied Duke Bernhard, who praised him in the highest terms. This was Bertel; three slight wounds attested the duke's account. Bertel regained his rank, but not the king's confidence, which he valued above everything. But he resolved to win this back at all costs.

Gustaf Adolf then marched to Augsburg, which took the oath of allegiance, and gave brilliant festivals in his honour. Here report, which joined the names Gustafva Augusta, whispered that the king had abandoned himself, like another Hannibal in Capua, to effeminacy and pleasure. Rumour was wrong. Gustaf Adolf was merely resting, and revolving still more daring enterprises in his mind. But from this time the king's pathway began to darken. The death angel went before him with drawn sword, and aimed now here, now there, a blow at his life, as if to cry constantly in his ear, "Mortal, thou art not a god."

One could almost think that the powers of darkness had obtained more power over him; now ambition began to gain ground in his mind, and he was no longer solely animated by the sacred cause of Liberty and Faith. A secret and terrible enemy seemed everywhere in his path, dealing deadly blows which could not as yet reach their mark. At the bold but unsuccessful attack on Ingolstadt there was, relates Fryxell, a cannon on the ramparts called a "Fikonet," and celebrated for shooting both far and true. The gunner on the ramparts saw out on the field a man with a waving plume riding a fine charger, and surrounded by attentive followers. "There," he said, "rides a great lord, but this will stop his career;" then he aimed and fired the "Fikonet." The ball brought down horse and rider, and the others hastened to the place in great dread; but the king, for it was he, raised himself up, covered with blood and dust, but unharmed, from underneath the dead horse, exclaiming,

"The apple is not yet ripe."

The citizens of Ingolstadt buried the horse, and stuffed his skin as a remembrance. Shortly afterwards the king was riding at the side of the young Margrave of Baden Durlach, who had just before been one of the most brilliant figures at the Augsburg balls. A cannon-shot passed very near the king, and as he looked round, a headless horseman rode by his side and then sank to the ground.