CHAPTER II.
THE NOBLEMAN WITHOUT A NAME.
At dawn on the 8th of September, the Swedish army was exercised. They felt sure of complete victory. From all parts news arrived that the enemy's army was almost destroyed. The king left one division of his troops to follow the Imperialists; whilst the rest received the agreeable order to loot Tilly's camp: the spoil was divided into lots. The treasures were enormous, and many a man was enriched for life. The whole army wore a joyous look; the dead were quickly buried, and the wounded forgot their pains. In the bright September morning, the battlefield was covered with groups of delighted soldiers, and here, if ever, Beskow's words could be used, "The air was cooled with the waving of the flags gained in the victory."
The king had passed the night in a carriage. After he had read the army prayers, and given orders for the first part of the day, he called for those who had most distinguished themselves in the battle. And now many a brave deed was recognised with honours and promotion. But higher than any other reward, was the inner satisfaction, and the praise they received from this hero, whom the whole of Europe had now learnt to admire.
Amongst those who were specially called was a young man, who plays a great part in this history. Gustaf Bertila was only twenty years old, and his heart was beating at this time more rapidly than it had ever done in the most terrible moments of the conflict. He knew well that the noble king would not take any account of his crime, which was that he had disobeyed orders in battle; he blushed and grew pale by turns, as he thought of what the king might mean by this special summons, which was in itself a great honour.
The king had erected his tent under one of the great elms, at Gross Wetteritz, because all the buildings in the neighbourhood were burnt or destroyed by friends or enemies.
After waiting for half an hour, Bertila was introduced into the royal presence. Gustaf Adolf was sitting on a low chair, and his arm was resting on a table, covered with maps and papers. The king was tall and portly, and his tight-fitting buff coat made him look still more corpulent.
When Bertila entered, the king lifted up his mild and beautiful blue eyes; he had just signed an order, and looked sharply at the young man.
Gustaf Adolf was short sighted, and therefore had a difficulty in recognising persons, and when he met individuals only slightly known to him, it gave his look a peculiar sharpness, which, however, disappeared immediately.
"Your name is Bertila," said the king, as if he wished to assure himself that he had heard it correctly the day before.
"Yes, your Majesty."