Then came the news that Pappenheim's men had broken and fled. Then that the artillery on the hills were in the hands of Gustavus, a fact that they soon became aware of. In face of them was the Swedish left, behind them were their own guns, and on their left flank Gustavus, marching through the débris of Pappenheim's host, was sweeping down upon them. The day was over. Nigel and Hildebrand rallied their tattered remnant of fifty saddles and rode after Tilly to act as his bodyguard. Nigel scanned the field with a quick eye and caught sight of him. A Swedish captain of horse was on the point of taking the little general prisoner when Nigel, spurring his horse, rode the Swede down.
Nigel's sword went through him. The man rolled over with the onset, and then fell with his upturned face grinning at his slayer in the very spasm of death. There was one final flash of recognition between four eyes. It was enough. Nigel was out of his saddle in an instant, an instant of deadly peril, ransacked the man's doublet, took out a bulky letter, and sprang to horse again. They had remounted Count Tilly, who was barely able to sit his horse by reason of his wounds. Nigel bade two sturdy troopers hold him on by any means; and taking the lead, rallying whatever troopers came his way, and sending word to the few remaining foot-regiments to follow, he pressed with all speed towards the open country to the northward. It was a miserable remnant of a mighty army which bivouacked at Halle.
The last glimpse of the field of battle that Nigel caught had shown him Pastor Rad, with a regiment of Swedes on their knees before him, offering up in stentorian tones a thanksgiving for the Swedish victory over his German and Catholic brethren.
[CHAPTER XXVI.]
AT HALBERSTADT.
It was the evening of the third day after Breitenfeld. Vague rumours of disaster had travelled across the intervening country of Halberstadt, city, bishopric, and independent state in one, a stronghold for, rather than of, the Empire, the domain and seat of Leopold the Bishop, a Habsburger and cousin of Ferdinand. The city was not strong enough to resist for long an attack by Gustavus, should he choose to make one, but it was strong enough to serve for a short while as a rallying-place for Tilly's fugitives.
Leopold the Bishop and his spoiled favourite niece, as he chose to call her, the Archduchess Stephanie, stood on the flat roof of the tallest tower of the palace looking along the road to the southernward. On the face of Leopold, a proud ecclesiastical face, rather rotund than ascetic, sat an extreme anxiety, and his sharp eyes roved restlessly from the road to the city walls, where men were mustered and ordnance trained, and officers bustled to and fro with an air of urgency. For who knew what a few hours might reveal, whether the banners of Sweden, or of Saxony, of Brandenburg or Hesse Cassel, would come swaying and fluttering from the passes in the hills.