The three men looked at one another. It was certain death for two out of the three. Which two? Would the others, their comrades, face it out and cut down the hated Catholics? There was a certain disadvantage in knowing their fellows. They were not sure of them. They were quite sure about the musketeers and Tilly's captain. Nigel Charteris had led a round dozen of storming parties.
"Come you!" said he with the short stern note of command.
The man indicated came sullenly forward, laid his weapon in a corner and stood upright against the wall. One by one the rest did the same as he did.
One of them was a young pastor whose thick, coarse, straw-coloured hair, heavy brow and lower jaw, companioned by two cold blue eyes, proclaimed physical energy and dour obstinacy to be his, whatever theology he carried in his wallet.
"My Bible is my weapon," he said, looking his captor in the face. "Woe unto you who wound maidens and spoil the houses of the true faith! Woe to the Edict of Restitution, edict of robbery and murder in the name of which you come! Woe to the Emperor, rightly named of Rome, for from Rome he has his orders, and from Rome his monstrous superstitions!"
His intention was to kneel beside Elspeth, but Nigel pointed to the wall.
It was a medley of weapons; an old halbert or two, some ancient bows, swords of divers patterns, daggers not a few, pikes and hunting knives, two heavy smith's hammers, and half a dozen pistols and firelocks of ponderous make and uncertain utility. These made up the tale of them.
It was a medley of men who surrendered them. Some of their belts and other accoutrements proclaimed them the organised defenders of the city, other than the Swedish soldiery that Gustavus had thrown into the place together with his devoted officer Falkenburg. The rest were merchants, artificers, apprentices, of whom some had doubtless assisted in the defence of the city, and others probably had continued to ply their callings with what peace they could.
Why they had mustered in this house round their old pastor, and with what hope remained, Nigel could only guess. In fact he cared nothing to know. It was but a nest of hornets to destroy.