CHAPTER III.
LADY REGINA.
In the beginning of October, 1631, it was a dull autumn day, about three or four weeks after the battle of Breitenfeld, and in one of the rooms of the tower of the castle of Würzburg the beautiful Regina von Emmeritz was sitting with several of her attendants; they were all working on a banner of white silk with the image of the Holy Virgin on it. It was intended for a standard of victory to stimulate the troops defending the castle. The young maidens indulged in an animated conversation, for the terror of the castle, the old, selfish bishop, had just started off, as he alleged, on a journey through the diocese, but in reality to escape Gustaf Adolf's approaching warriors. Trembling for his treasures, he had previously entrusted the defence of the town and castle to the valiant and trustworthy captain of horse, Keller, with fifteen hundred men; and this commander, relying upon the impregnable position of the fortress on the banks of the Main, had assured his reverence that the heretic king should crush his head against the walls, before any of his godless host obtained an entrance.
The lovely Regina was scarcely sixteen, and her curls were dark as the night, cheeks rosy as the dawn, and black eyes shining like two stars which at midnight mirror themselves in a mountain lake. She was the pet and idol of the aged bishop; he had therefore unwillingly left her with his other treasures in the castle, depending, however, upon Keller's assurance that the thick walls well mounted with heavy guns, were, in such uncertain times, the best harbour for beauty and gold; and Keller was a commander of fidelity and honour; with such a precious trust he would sooner bury himself underneath the ruins of the fortress than surrender.
Lady Regina raised her brilliant eyes from the embroidery and glanced through the little turret window over the river, where at that moment a carriage, escorted by some troopers, was crossing the bridge from the town to the castle.
"Who is this traveller?" she said, with the concentrated gaze which rarely fixed itself upon any object except the large and beautiful marble image of the Madonna in her sanctuary.
"Ah!" exclaimed Ketchen, the youngest and most talkative of the maidens, "ah, Holy Virgin, how charming it is to live in such times as these! Every day, new faces, stately cavaliers, brave young knights, and now and then a little feast in town. It is quite a different thing from sitting shut up in a cloister, and hearing the monks chant De Profundis from morn till eve. Yes," continued she saucily, "may his grace, the bishop, only stay away a good long time!"
"Ketchen," admonished Regina, "take care not to speak ill of the services and masses of the monks! Remember that our confessor, Father Hieronymus, is a member of the Holy Inquisition, and that the castle dungeons are deep and dark."
Ketchen remained silent for a moment. But directly afterwards she boldly said,
"If I were in your place, lady, I would rather think of the handsome Count of Lichtenstein, than of that terrible Father Hieronymus. He is a valiant knight; God grant that he may return victorious from the war against the heretics!"