The two sleepers now stood up half-awake, and Bertel could recognise by the faint morning light the little, thick-set Larsson and his own faithful Pekka. But there was no opportunity for explanations. All three were brought out, bound, and put into a cart, and then the long caravan, composed of wagons for the wounded and baggage, under the charge of the Croats, began slowly to move.
Bertel knew that he and his companions were now prisoners of the Imperialists. He soon recovered his memory, and learned from his countrymen in captivity how it all happened. When the faithful Lapp felt the reins loose, he galloped with his unconscious master back to camp. But this was being plundered by the wild Croats, and when they saw a Swedish officer dragged along half dead by his horse, they took him prisoner, in the hope of a good ransom. Pekka, who would not forsake his master, was also taken prisoner. Larsson, on the other hand, had, at the Pappenheimers' attack, charged too far amongst the enemy, and having received a sabre thrust in the shoulder, and a wound in the arm, was unable to extricate himself. Who had triumphed Larsson did not know with certainty.
It was now the third day after the battle; they had marched for a day and night in a southerly direction, and then stopped for a few hours in a deserted village.
"Accursed crew!" exclaimed the little captain, whose jovial disposition did not abandon him under any circumstances; "if they had not stolen my flask, we might now drink Finland's health together. But these Croats are thieves of the first water, compared with whom our gipsies at home are innocent angels. I should like to hang a couple of hundred of them from the ramparts of Korsholm, as they hang petticoats on the walls of a Finnish garret."
The march continued with brief halts for several days, not without great suffering and discomfort to the wounded, who, improperly bandaged, were prevented by their fetters from helping each other. At the outset they travelled through a desolated country, where provisions were obtained with great difficulty, and whose population took to flight at the sight of the dreaded Croats. But they soon arrived in richer parts, where the Catholic inhabitants assembled to curse the heretics, and exult over their king's fall. The whole Catholic world shared this rejoicing. It is stated that in Madrid brilliant performances took place, in which Gustave Adolf, another dragon, was conquered by Wallenstein as St. George.
After seven days' wearisome journeying, the cart with the captive Finns drove late one evening over a clattering drawbridge, and stopped in a small courtyard. The wounded prisoners were led out, and conducted up two crumbling flights of stairs into a turret room in the form of a semi-circle. It seemed to Bertel as if he had seen this place before, but darkness and fatigue prevented him from making sure. The stars shone through the grated windows, and the prisoners were revived with a cup of wine. Larsson said with satisfaction:
"I will bet anything that the thieves have stolen their wine from our cellars, while we lay in Würzburg, for better stuff I have never tasted!"
"Würzburg!" said Bertel thoughtfully. "Regina!" added he, almost unconsciously.
"And the wine-cellar!" sighed Larsson, mocking him. "I will tell you something.
'The greatest fool upon the earth
Is he that believes in a girl's worth.
When love comes, the little dear,
Marry instead the cup of good cheer.'