



Produced by Martin Robb







THE LION OF THE NORTH

A Tale of the Times of Gustavus Adolphus,


By G. A. Henty




PREFACE.


MY DEAR LADS,

You are nowadays called upon to acquire so great a mass of learning
and information in the period of life between the ages of twelve and
eighteen that it is not surprising that but little time can be spared
for the study of the history of foreign nations. Most lads are,
therefore, lamentably ignorant of the leading events of even the most
important epochs of Continental history, although, as many of these
events have exercised a marked influence upon the existing state of
affairs in Europe, a knowledge of them is far more useful, and, it
may be said, far more interesting than that of the comparatively petty
affairs of Athens, Sparta, Corinth, and Thebes.

Prominent among such epochs is the Thirty Years' War, which arose from
the determination of the Emperor of Austria to crush out Protestantism
throughout Germany. Since the invasion of the Huns no struggle which
has taken place in Europe has approached this in the obstinacy of the
fighting and the terrible sufferings which the war inflicted upon the
people at large. During these thirty years the population of Germany
decreased by nearly a third, and in some of the states half the towns
and two-thirds of the villages absolutely disappeared.

The story of the Thirty Years' War is too long to be treated in one
volume. Fortunately it divides itself naturally into two parts. The
first begins with the entry of Sweden, under her chivalrous monarch
Gustavus Adolphus, upon the struggle, and terminates with his death and
that of his great rival Wallenstein. This portion of the war has been
treated in the present story. The second period begins at the point when
France assumed the leading part in the struggle, and concluded with the
peace which secured liberty of conscience to the Protestants of Germany.
This period I hope to treat some day in another story, so that you may
have a complete picture of the war. The military events of the present
tale, the battles, sieges, and operations, are all taken from the best
authorities, while for the account of the special doings of Mackay's,
afterwards Munro's Scottish Regiment, I am indebted to Mr. J. Grant's
Life of Sir John Hepburn.

Yours sincerely,

G. A. HENTY




CHAPTER I THE INVITATION


It was late in the afternoon in the spring of the year 1630; the
hilltops of the south of Scotland were covered with masses of cloud, and
a fierce wind swept the driving rain before it with such force that it
was not easy to make way against it. It had been raining for three days
without intermission. Every little mountain burn had become a boiling
torrent, while the rivers had risen above their banks and flooded the
low lands in the valleys.

The shades of evening were closing in, when a lad of some sixteen years
of age stood gazing across the swollen waters of the Nith rushing past
in turbid flood. He scarce seemed conscious of the pouring rain; but
with his lowland bonnet pressed down over his eyes, and his plaid
wrapped tightly round him, he stood on a rising hummock of ground at the
edge of the flood, and looked across the stream.

"If they are not here soon," he said to himself, "they will not get
across the Nith tonight. None but bold riders could do so now; but
by what uncle says, Captain Hume must be that and more. Ah! here they
come."

As he spoke two horsemen rode down the opposite side of the valley and
halted at the water's edge. The prospect was not a pleasant one. The
river was sixty or seventy feet wide, and in the centre the water swept
along in a raging current.

"You cannot cross here," the boy shouted at the top of his voice. "You
must go higher up where the water's deeper."

The wind swept his words away, but his gestures were understood.

"The boy is telling us to go higher up," said one of the horsemen.

"I suppose he is," the other replied; "but here is the ford. You see the
road we have travelled ends here, and I can see it again on the other
side. It is getting dark, and were we to cross higher up we might lose
our way and get bogged; it is years since I was here. What's the boy
going to do now? Show us a place for crossing?"

The lad, on seeing the hesitation of the horsemen, had run along the
bank up the stream, and to their surprise, when he had gone a little
more than a hundred yards he dashed into the water. For a time the water
was shallow, and he waded out until he reached the edge of the regular
bank of the river, and then swam out into the current.

"Go back," the horseman shouted; but his voice did not reach the
swimmer, who, in a few strokes, was in the full force of the stream, and
was soon lost to the sight of the horsemen among the short foaming waves
of the torrent.

"The boy will be drowned," one of the horsemen said, spurring his horse
up the valley; but in another minute the lad was seen breasting the
calmer water just above the ford.

"You cannot cross here, Captain Hume," he said, as he approached the
horsemen. "You must go nigh a mile up the river."

"Why, who are you, lad?" the horseman asked, "and how do you know my
name?"

"I'm the nephew of Nigel Graheme. Seeing how deep the floods were I came
out to show you the way, for the best horse in the world could not swim
the Nith here now."

"But this is the ford," Captain Hume said.

"Yes, this is the ford in dry weather. The bottom here is hard rock and
easy to ride over when the river is but waist deep, but below and above
this place it is covered with great boulders. The water is six feet
deep here now, and the horses would be carried down among the rocks, and
would never get across. A mile up the river is always deep, and though
the current is strong there is nothing to prevent a bold horseman from
swimming across."

"I thank you heartily, young sir," Captain Hume said. "I can see how
broken is the surface of the water, and doubt not that it would have
fared hard with us had we attempted to swim across here. In faith,
Munro, we have had a narrow escape."

"Ay, indeed," the other agreed. "It would have been hard if you and I,
after going through all the battlefields of the Low Countries, should
have been drowned here together in a Scottish burn. Your young friend is
a gallant lad and a good swimmer, for in truth it was no light task to
swim that torrent with the water almost as cold as ice."

"Now, sirs, will you please to ride on," the boy said; "it is getting
dark fast, and the sooner we are across the better."

So saying he went off at a fast run, the horses trotting behind him. A
mile above he reached the spot he had spoken of. The river was narrower
here, and the stream was running with great rapidity, swirling and
heaving as it went, but with a smooth even surface.

"Two hundred yards farther up," the boy said, "is the beginning of the
deep; if you take the water there you will get across so as to climb up
by that sloping bank just opposite."

He led the way to the spot he indicated, and then plunged into the
stream, swimming quietly and steadily across, and allowing the stream to
drift him down.

The horsemen followed his example. They had swum many a swollen river,
and although their horses snorted and plunged at first, they soon
quieted down and swam steadily over. They just struck the spot which the
boy had indicated. He had already arrived there, and, without a word,
trotted forward.

It was soon dark, and the horsemen were obliged to keep close to his
heels to see his figure. It was as much as they could do to keep up with
him, for the ground was rough and broken, sometimes swampy, sometimes
strewn with boulders.

"It is well we have a guide," Colonel Munro said to his companion; "for
assuredly, even had we got safely across the stream, we should never
have found our way across such a country as this. Scotland is a fine
country, Hume, a grand country, and we are all proud of it, you know,
but for campaigning, give me the plains of Germany; while, as for your
weather here, it is only fit for a water rat."

Hume laughed at this outburst.

"I sha'n't be sorry, Munro, for a change of dry clothes and a corner by
a fire; but we must be nearly there now if I remember right. Graheme's
hold is about three miles from the Nith."

The boy presently gave a loud shout, and a minute later lights were seen
ahead, and in two or three minutes the horsemen drew up at a door beside
which two men were standing with torches; another strolled out as they
stopped.

"Welcome, Hume! I am glad indeed to see you; and--ah! is it you, Munro?
it is long indeed since we met."

"That is it, Graheme; it is twelve years since we were students together
at St. Andrews."

"I did not think you would have come on such a night," Graheme said.

"I doubt that we should have come tonight, or any other night, Nigel, if
it had not been that that brave boy who calls you uncle swam across
the Nith to show us the best way to cross. It was a gallant deed, and I
consider we owe him our lives."

"It would have gone hard with you, indeed, had you tried to swim the
Nith at the ford; had I not made so sure you would not come I would have
sent a man down there. I missed Malcolm after dinner, and wondered what
had become of him. But come in and get your wet things off. It is a
cold welcome keeping you here. My men will take your horses round to the
stable and see that they are well rubbed down and warmly littered."

In a quarter of an hour the party were assembled again in the sitting
room. It was a bare room with heavily timbered ceiling and narrow
windows high up from the ground; for the house was built for purposes
of defence, like most Scottish residences in those days. The floor was
thickly strewn with rushes. Arms and trophies of the chase hung on
the walls, and a bright fire blazing on the hearth gave it a warm and
cheerful aspect. As his guests entered the room Graheme presented them
with a large silver cup of steaming liquor.

"Drain this," he said, "to begin with. I will warrant me a draught of
spiced wine will drive the cold of the Nith out of your bones."

The travellers drank off the liquor.

"'Tis a famous drink," Hume said, "and there is nowhere I enjoy it so
much as in Scotland, for the cold here seems to have a knack of getting
into one's very marrow, though I will say there have been times in the
Low Countries when we have appreciated such a draught. Well, and how
goes it with you, Graheme?"

"Things might be better; in fact, times in Scotland have been getting
worse and worse ever since King James went to England, and all the court
with him. If it were not for an occasional raid among the wild folks of
Galloway, and a few quarrels among ourselves, life would be too dull to
bear here."

"But why bear it?" Captain Hume asked. "You used to have plenty of
spirit in our old college days, Graheme, and I wonder at your rusting
your life out here when there is a fair field and plenty of honour,
to say nothing of hard cash, to be won in the Low Country. Why, beside
Hepburn's regiment, which has made itself a name throughout all Europe,
there are half a score of Scottish regiments in the service of the King
of Sweden, and his gracious majesty Gustavus Adolphus does not keep them
idle, I warrant you."

"I have thought of going a dozen times," Graheme said, "but you see
circumstances have kept me back; but I have all along intended to cross
the seas when Malcolm came of an age to take the charge of his father's
lands. When my brother James was dying from that sword thrust he got in
a fray with the Duffs, I promised him I would be a father to the boy,
and see that he got his rights."

"Well, we will talk of the affair after supper, Graheme, for now that
I have got rid of the cold I begin to perceive that I am well nigh
famished."

As the officer was speaking, the servitors were laying the table, and
supper was soon brought in. After ample justice had been done to this,
and the board was again cleared, the three men drew their seats round
the fire, Malcolm seating himself on a low stool by his uncle.

"And now to business, Nigel," Colonel Munro said. "We have not come back
to Scotland to see the country, or to enjoy your weather, or even for
the pleasure of swimming your rivers in flood.

"We are commissioned by the King of Sweden to raise some 3000 or 4000
more Scottish troops. I believe that the king intends to take part in
the war in Germany, where the Protestants are getting terribly mauled,
and where, indeed, it is likely that the Reformed Religion will be
stamped out altogether unless the Swedes strike in to their rescue. My
chief object is to fill up to its full strength of two thousand men
the Mackay Regiment, of which I am lieutenant colonel. The rest of the
recruits whom we may get will go as drafts to fill up the vacancies in
the other regiments. So you see here we are, and it is our intention
to beat up all our friends and relations, and ask them each to raise a
company or half a company of recruits, of which, of course, they would
have the command.

"We landed at Berwick, and wrote to several of our friends that we were
coming. Scott of Jedburgh has engaged to raise a company. Balfour of
Lauderdale, who is a cousin of mine, has promised to bring another; they
were both at St. Andrew's with us, as you may remember, Graheme. Young
Hamilton, who had been an ensign in my regiment, left us on the way. He
will raise a company in Douglasdale. Now, Graheme, don't you think you
can bring us a band of the men of Nithsdale?"

"I don't know," Graheme said hesitatingly. "I should like it of all
things, for I am sick of doing nothing here, and my blood often runs
hot when I read of the persecutions of the Protestants in Germany; but I
don't think I can manage it."

"Oh, nonsense, Nigel!" said Hume; "you can manage it easily enough if
you have the will. Are you thinking of the lad there? Why not bring him
with you? He is young, certainly, but he could carry a colour; and as
for his spirit and bravery, Munro and I will vouch for it."

"Oh, do, uncle," the lad exclaimed, leaping to his feet in his
excitement. "I promise you I would not give you any trouble; and as for
marching, there isn't a man in Nithsdale who can tire me out across the
mountains."

"But what's to become of the house, Malcolm, and the land and the
herds?"

"Oh, they will be all right," the boy said. "Leave old Duncan in charge,
and he will look after them."

"But I had intended you to go to St. Andrews next year, Malcolm, and
I think the best plan will be for you to go there at once. As you say,
Duncan can look after the place."

Malcolm's face fell.

"Take the lad with you, Graheme," Colonel Munro said. "Three years under
Gustavus will do him vastly more good than will St. Andrews. You know it
never did us any good to speak of. We learned a little more Latin than
we knew when we went there, but I don't know that that has been of any
use to us; whereas for the dry tomes of divinity we waded through, I
am happy to say that not a single word of the musty stuff remains in my
brains. The boy will see life and service, he will have opportunities
of distinguishing himself under the eye of the most chivalrous king in
Europe, he will have entered a noble profession, and have a fair chance
of bettering his fortune, all of which is a thousand times better than
settling down here in this corner of Scotland."

"I must think it over," Graheme said; "it is a serious step to take.
I had thought of his going to the court at London after he left the
university, and of using our family interest to push his way there."

"What is he to do in London?" Munro said. "The old pedant James, who
wouldn't spend a shilling or raise a dozen men to aid the cause of his
own daughter, and who thought more of musty dogmatic treatises than of
the glory and credit of the country he ruled over, or the sufferings
of his co-religionists in Germany, has left no career open to a lad of
spirit."

"Well, I will think it over by the morning," Graheme said. "And now tell
me a little more about the merits of this quarrel in Germany. If I
am going to fight, I should like at least to know exactly what I am
fighting about."

"My dear fellow," Hume laughed, "you will never make a soldier if you
always want to know the ins and outs of every quarrel you have to fight
about; but for once the tenderest conscience may be satisfied as to
the justice of the contention. But Munro is much better versed in the
history of the affair than I am; for, to tell you the truth, beyond the
fact that it is a general row between the Protestants and Catholics