While I was reflecting that Ernestine might have displayed some more emotion, for the worst of perils encompassed us, Spürrledter came running after the soldiers to give them a glass of brandy; and, while their minds were intent upon the flask, he approached me, and slyly, with his hand behind him, thrust into mine a purse, with a brief whisper:—
"My young lady sends you this, Herr Kombeek—it is a long march to Vienna."
The purse was of blue velvet, embroidered with silver thread, and the generous girl seemed to have filled it well. To have declined the gift in my desperate circumstances, would have been uncourteous to her, folly to myself, and false modesty; I concealed it at once in my sporran, and a glow of gratitude kindled in my heart.
"I shall end by loving Ernestine, but I shall see her no more," thought I; "the interest we take in each other is pure and sincere. I could not have loved Prudentia at all. Oh, no! I grow sick when I reflect on my folly. 'Twas the dream of a day, and she is the sister of Bandolo!"
I saw little of the country during the march, for my whole attention was excited by the vast bodies of Imperialists then pouring along the left bank of the Elbe—horse, foot, and artillery—in tens of thousands, towards the ducal capital of Saxe-Lauenburg; and on that day's march I observed and learned more of their internal economy, than a hundred battles with them could have taught me.
Though rusty armour and patched doublets, plumeless helmets and battered morions, were very common in the Imperial ranks, nothing military could surpass the magnificence of many of the officers. Their mantles and trunk hose were of the richest velvets Florence and Genoa could produce; their armour of the most gorgeous gilded plate from Venice and Milan, covered with sacred mottoes' figures, and charms, either religious or necromantic, to render them invulnerable—for they all believed implicitly in fated bullets and enchanted mail; their pistols and daggers were from Parma; their swords from Bilboa and Toledo. On their breasts sparkled the stars of St. George of Austria, of the Golden Fleece, and other knightly orders peculiar to the Empire. Here I saw Tilly's weatherbeaten Walloon infantry, and that savage Croatian force which had slaughtered our wounded Highlanders in cold blood at Boitzenburg; among these were one regiment of horse, the Krabats of Castanovitz, lightly armed with steel helmets and fur pelisses; another of infantry or Uskokes, famous for their agility in all rapid movements. But Tilly's best troops were the fine old Imperial Reitres in their black armour; the pikemen of Pappenheim, the cavalier of a hundred wounds; the musketeers of Wrangel, of Gordon, and Camargo; the Italian bands of Savelli, and the glittering Spanish infantry, so easily distinguished by their fine lofty bearing, their brilliant arms, and short quick step on the march.
His regiments usually consisted of men armed in five different ways; thus, in each company of a hundred soldiers, fifty were musketeers, thirty were pikemen, ten were halberdiers, and ten arquebussiers, armed also with swords and daggers; but these numbers varied so much, that I have seen companies of three hundred files, and regiments of three thousand. Every company carried a standard, and their order of battle was eight ranks deep.
Hard drinking, gaming, and licentiousness prevailed to the utmost extent, and thus (unlike the orderly armies of Christian and Gustavus) the Imperial camp swarmed with jugglers, dancers, posture-makers, and women of every description, from the luxurious ladies of the rich and powerful nobles, down to the cruel and dastardly death-hunter, who acted the lascivious wanton in the soldier's tent, and who murdered him when wounded, that she might plunder him with impunity when dead. Discipline was relaxed; yet desertion, punishment, grumbling, the saying of prayers and masses were incessant. The corps were destitute of surgeons and chaplains; but (attracted by the presence of Tilly, a brother of their order) a swarm of long-robed and severe-visaged Jesuits hovered on the skirts of the army. Tilly's cavalry gave all their horses romantic names after great warriors renowned in song or antiquity. Thus, Count Merodé rode Amadis of Gaul; Count Kœningheim had the Cid Rodrigo; a third rode Palmerin of England; a fourth, Tirante the White, and so on. Prisoners were never exchanged, all being shot who could neither pay ransom, or stoop to serve under the eagle. A colonel's ransom was £1000; a subaltern's, as much as he could scrape together.
The Scottish and Irish soldiers of fortune frequently passed from one service to the other; for, being passionate rogues, it sometimes happened that in quarrels they shot their senior officers, or ran them through the body; for, though we took their pay and fought their battles for glory and pleasure, we despised all these foreigners in our hearts, and made it a rule never to submit to the slightest encroachment or annoyance even from the best of them. Hence our quarrel with the king.
There were several regiments of Scottish and Irish musketeers in the Imperial service, and the best and bravest officers of the empire were Scots and Irishmen. Among the former, I may mention Field-marshal Count Leslie, who became governor of Sclavonia; the Gordons, one of whom became Colonel-general of infantry, and High-chamberlain of the empire, and who slew the great Duke of Friedland; the M'Dougals, one of whom became a general of horse, and the Lindesays of Crauford, and others. Of the gallant Irish nation, were Colonels Macarthy, Grace, O'Neill, and Walter Butler, all brave men as ever looked face to face on Death; but save the old Welshman, Colonel Morgan, there was no Englishman of note in these wars—but Morgan was in himself a host.