Nigel saluted his old commander-in-chief. Wallenstein nodded, and bade a servant bring a chair.
"You were with me in the late wars?" was his question, not in the abrupt military fashion, though there were no more words, but in a tone which bespoke a certain graciousness and a certain distance.
"I was, your Grace—lieutenant, then captain of musketeers!"
"And are now with Count Tilly? You were at Magdeburg?"
"Yes! I am now riding with despatches to the Emperor!"
This was the second time he had implied that he had the despatches to deliver, knowing in fact that he had none. He had lied boldly to Gordon, the commandant who should have been a shopkeeper, and thought nothing of it. Besides, Gordon was a Protestant. He did not like lying even by implication to Wallenstein, but he had the wish not to give the great commander an ill opinion of his capacity.
"It is well!" said Wallenstein. "I do not ask you to show them to me. But I should like to know something of Count Tilly's dispositions. I am out of harness. I am enriched and decorated with titles, and put aside. The Jesuits would like to use me as a flail to beat the Protestants, but they do not want the flail for itself, or to beat them. The flail is a passably good flail, and will not wear out yet. How many men has Count Tilly?"
"Twenty thousand foot; two thousand horse!" said Nigel promptly.
"And artillery?"
"Fifty pieces of all kinds!"