There was the moat below and a narrow one at that. But it was a sufficient barrier.
"Silence for the Commandant!" shouted the sergeant of the guard. There was silence in the grim-looking crowd that stood many deep on the other side, torches and lanterns lighting up the faces of some and leaving others mere shadowy patches, lighting up, too, the faces of many steel weapons and the barrels of many firelocks.
"Now Johann Pfarrer! In God's name tell us what this is all about, and let a man get back to his supper!"
"Magdeburg!" shouted Johann Pfarrer with a voice like a deep-toned trumpet.
"Aye! Magdeburg!" The crowed echoed and roared it lustily with a curious note of wild anger in the throat.
"Well, friends? What have I to do with Magdeburg?"
"Just this!" said Johann Pfarrer. "To-night we have heard an exact relation of the sack of Magdeburg. You have with you one of Tilly's captains and twenty of his hell-born riders."
"Faith, Johann! you may be right! I don't know where they were born. They are all good Germans!"
"The more shame!" growled Johann. "Now, Commandant, we are not joking. Deliver them all up to us, officers and men!"