"So, sir, you would leave me for Wallenstein!" said the dry, wiry old man with the short grey beard resting on a charger of ruff, looking keenly out of a pair of very sharp eyes, which were the eyes of General Tilly, Count of Tzerclaës. "What in thunder made you think Wallenstein was in favour again?"
"It is true then, General?"
"It may prove true in time. It depends on Gustavus, on Magdeburg, on Saxony. Are you by chance a necromancer? Your calf country has produced a brood of them at times. And your King Jamie, who was father-in-law to our famous Winter King by the way, made rather a name for himself rooting out the witches, didn't he?"
Nigel Charteris knew Count Tilly's predilection for a gird at foreign officers. But as the old general was in a good vein he made no attempt to defend the memory of King Jamie, who was dead, and had died a Protestant, to Nigel in itself a proof of something lacking in his intelligence.
"Not I, General! I had it from a haughty damsel I found in the same house with the nest of Magdeburgers I brought you."
"Who was she, captain?"
"She gave herself out to be the Lady Ottilie of Thüringen! She is of a surety highly-born. But I didn't know what to make of her. She is not given to much speech, and what there is is tart in flavour. Would she by chance be a daughter of the Landgrave? She hinted at the Wartburg."
"Not she! The Landgrave has no daughter. I should like to see this damsel. She may tell an old man more than she would tell a young one like yourself. Send for her!"
Nigel gave an order to a soldier.