'The king dead!' shrieked Arwed, with wild amazement, and running to the nearest guard post, he immediately returned with a blazing torch. The light disclosed a horrid scene. Covered with blood, Charles's beautiful hero-like form rested upon the inner scarp of the trench. His head had sunk down upon the parapet. On the right temple was the death-wound. The left eye was sunken in; the right, strained wholly out of its orbit, stared horribly forth; and the right hand, which held the hilt of his sword with a convulsive grasp, proved that the brave spirit, even on the instant of its flight, was disposed to resist the impending death.
A long and fearful pause succeeded the discovery. 'The play is out!' finally observed Megret, breaking the general silence: 'We may now go to supper.'
Arwed looked shudderingly upon the man who could treat the sudden and awful death of his general and king with such cool insolence--and at that moment a horrible suspicion pervaded his soul.
'This sad occurrence must be concealed from the troops,' said Siquier. 'It would entirely dispirit them. I will merely inform the prince of Hesse, and he can command what further is to be done.'
He departed in haste. Megret followed him. Arwed remained with Swedenborg by the corpse, holding fast its lifeless left hand, and covering it with his kisses and tears.
'So, it is thy fate to be destroyed by assassination, thou kingly hero!' mourned the faithful Swedenborg. 'Why couldst thou not have fallen worthy of thyself, by the hand of an honorable enemy, in the open field of battle?'
'Let us not judge too rashly and uncharitably,' said Arwed, combating, in Swedenborg's, his own suspicions. 'That the king was hit by one of the balls from the batteries of the enemy, is more probable than the monstrous crime which you seem to conjecture.'
'The king's face was turned toward the enemy,' said Swedenborg, with grave significancy: 'and the ball hit him on the right side. The calibre, to judge from the size of the wound, was too small for a heavy gun, and no musket would reach this place from the walls of Frederickshall.'
'Impossible!' cried Arwed. 'Who could have projected such a crime--who could have committed it?'
'He who eats my bread tramples me under foot,--was done to Gustavus by the fourth man who rode with him out of the camp:'--said Swedenborg in a chanting tone, as if in answer to both questions. The trench had now become illuminated with torches and filled with warriors. Through the hastening crowd of officers pressed the prince of Hesse.