The Mercenary Part 34

"I believe," said the Jesuit, "that you would ride in the last charge by his side, as the old paladins did at Roncesvaux." His eyes roved over Nigel approvingly. He recognised the goodness of the metal from which with his own hammer he was striking the sparks. He was older, and his enthusiasm and his resolution were deeper down, not less there than Nigel's.

"But the war is of more importance than the Emperor, or than Wallenstein!"

Nigel looked puzzled.

"I came into the world not to bring peace but a sword," said the Father, crossing himself.

"You mean?" asked Nigel.

"The war that the Church has waged through all ages and will always wage! It is not by heroic deaths of Emperors, but by the steady perennial application of means to ends that she wins her way. It is more to her ultimate purpose and advantage to maintain the Habsburgs on the throne, to preserve their pomp and power, than to let them court certain destruction in order to add one more glittering legend to the roll of military saints!"

"I begin to see something of your meaning!" said Nigel. "Then Wallenstein is only an instrument that Holy Church intends to use?"

"Precisely!" said Father Lamormain, bringing his lips together firmly, as if he could have added something further and had swiftly decided against it.

"And with what lure will you attract him?" asked Nigel.

"That we have yet to discover! He may decline altogether."

"No, Father. The man that has once commanded armies, not being a king, can never willingly lay down his baton to become a grazier of oxen, unless he be too old to march even in a litter."

"I am a man of peace, you know!" said the Jesuit.

"But you will never lay down your baton till you die!" said Nigel with understanding. Beneath the suavity were _finesse_ and a high intelligence, but below all was the measureless strength of purpose and zeal for the cause that was of the essence of his life. Nigel saw this as in a gla.s.s darkly. That to this quiet Jesuit men and women and their personal emotions, their loves, their ambitions, their humiliations, were as nothing but tools to be used, or pipes to be played upon, Nigel did not as yet even suspect--or perchance, had he suspected, might have craved leave to follow Tilly, where hard knocks were plentiful and blood ran freely, to take part in a visible strife and with open foes, men of like manner to himself.

"If you mean _this_!" said the Father gravely, lifting his crucifix from his breast to his lips. "No! Nor then! He will find work for my soul!

But now," he went on in a changed voice, "I sent for you to send you on an errand. You are to be the tempter of Wallenstein."

"Surely you can choose a legate of more credit and authority than me!"

"Possibly, but not one more likely to elicit Wallenstein's candour."

"And how will he receive an amba.s.sador of my humble station? Will he not rather deem it another affront, and throw his weight wholly into the opposite scale?"

"As to rank, the Emperor is pleased with your behaviour as a regimental commander, and your courage and conduct in the battle and the retreat from Breitenfeld. Your patent as major-general is being made out.

Wallenstein may appear cold. He may appear haughty, but you will let him understand that you are but the forerunner. You will explain that the Emperor is desirous of knowing first, whether His Grace the Duke of Friedland would be willing, should the occasion arise, to raise another army to oppose first Saxony, then Gustavus, on the part of the Empire, and in the second place, what conditions His Grace would expect to be fulfilled, and what powers must be included in his patent. Once the general extent of his demands are known a negotiation may be set on foot through channels which will safeguard his dignity."

The interview proceeded at some length, Father Lamormain laying down with great precision the details of the points on which Nigel was to touch.

"You will go to Prague ostensibly in command of reinforcements for the garrison, and to report to the Emperor the state of the defences of that city. In the ordinary course you will naturally beg the favour of being received by the Duke, and so gain his private ear."

"Having learned all you can, you will return with all speed, for events are moving quickly."

"I can but do my best," Nigel said in conclusion, "and that best may be poor. Meantime I crave the Emperor's patience, and the opportunity afterwards to gain his further favour in some military employment, for to tell the truth, Father, this emba.s.sy work is not suited to my bent.

Though I can but thank the Emperor very heartily for the honour he does me in reposing so much of his confidence in me."

So the interview ended as it had begun with a benediction, and the next day saw Nigel and a considerable body of troops, with a full complement of officers, set out for Prague.

CHAPTER XXIX.

ORBIT AND FOCUS.

The best inn at Znaim was a solidly built and roomy and uncomfortable place. Znaim is on the road from Vienna to Prague, and is actually in the Mark of Mahren, neither in Austria nor Bohemia. Whether that was a reason why His Grace the Duke of Friedland should have affrighted, as much as overjoyed, the host of the Golden Fleece by his presence it is not possible to say, but he was there with an attendance of two gentlemen and six men-servants, not counting horse-boys. As he told no one why he was going to Znaim, or whether he was pa.s.sing beyond Znaim, no one could satisfy the curiosity of the host, who having been warned by courier, had caused a large upper room to be swept, laid down a rug or two bought from a Hungarian trader, who had bought them from a Turk, and set a fire of logs roaring in the chimney by way of banis.h.i.+ng the November damp.

The great man had arrived at midday, dined with his gentlemen, who had afterwards set off on some journey to the southward. Left alone, his men-servants dismissed for the time being, the Duke amused himself by making plans and calculations on sheets of paper, also by walking to and fro, and peering out of the misty cas.e.m.e.nt. The innkeeper took it into his head that the Duke was expecting some one.

And in the late afternoon, just as the Duke had called for candles, the door opened and the man-servant announced "the Countess Ottilie von Thuringen."

From a hood of deep blue velvet edged with sable, a slight colour in her cheeks from the wind, the mysterious eyes looked out expectant and almost timid, if timidity had not been almost a stranger to the woman to whom they belonged.

The grave cold face of Wallenstein relaxed into a smile of welcome. He bowed and kissed her hand.

"So you are on your way, Countess Ottilie! 'Tis a long while since we met."

"Six months! Albrecht! Six months of inglorious rust!" There was an undertone of reproach, very faint, perhaps scarcely meant. She was a woman.

The brow of Wallenstein resumed its furrows.

"You at least have not rusted," he said. "Quicksilver could rust as soon. You have been busy, my confederate. But indeed I have not been exactly idle. And we may say truthfully that our efforts have succeeded."

"In so far that Protestant Germany is aroused from end to end by the torch of Gustavus, and that the Catholic League was never so downcast as now."

"You say rightly that Gustavus applied the torch, but it is we who have gathered the dry f.a.ggots together and spread them on the common hearth!"

"Then you are pleased with me, Albrecht!" The wistfulness in her tone was quite apparent. For a moment the great lady was merged into the woman seeking approval from the man who sat upon the throne of her admiration.

"You are wonderful as well as beautiful!" said the Duke, not as a lover says these things, but with the air of the connoisseur of minds, deeply surprised that he has discovered a masterpiece where he looked merely for an ordinary work of art.

She coloured at his words and smiled. They pleased her, glibly as they ran off his tongue, but with a lover's ardour to waft them into air how much more would they have pleased her!

"Yes!" She went on as if following out another thought. "Events are moving fast towards the point we aimed at, your recall."

"My recall? Yes! Six months ago I was dreaming of recall."

In an instant she leaned forward anxiously to ask--

"Of what then do you now think if not of recall? To what end are you planning? Towards what have I planned and journeyed and striven?"

Wallenstein felt the annoyance that all self-centred men feel at making others partners in their plans. But he showed nothing of it as he answered--

"Of a confederacy of all German states on the basis of complete religious liberty! It is of that I am thinking."

She threw back her hood and opened her cloak. Then she asked with an amused air--

"And for this it is necessary to _drive the Habsburgs over the Alps_?"