CHAPTER IV.
LADY REGINA'S OATH.
The next day was one of hot and furious battle. The Swedes bombarded the castle with a heavy fire, and drew near to the walls under the cover of earthworks. The Imperial troops fought well. Time was precious for both sides; in a few days Tilly would be in the rear of Gustaf Adolf; a possible thunder-bolt to the Swedes; a certain relief for the garrison.
Lady Regina and her attendants were now shut up in the inner rooms, and could no longer view the extraordinary spectacle of the siege. But there was much to do within. Large numbers of wounded had to be nursed; the young lady moved like a spirit of light from couch to couch in the armoury, where the wounded had been placed; her healing hands poured balm on their wounds; her compassionate voice poured consolation into their hearts. She spoke of the Holy Faith for which they suffered; promised honours and rewards to those who recovered, and eternal salvation to the dying.
The heavy artillery thunder made the walls tremble. Lady Regina suddenly remembered that she had left her rosary up in the little turret, and it was now needed for the prayers of the dying. She had already reached the threshold of the armoury, when a terrific crash shook the castle to its very base. Pale with fear, she hesitated, and at the same moment the Count of Lichtenstein rushed in.
"What has happened?" exclaimed the young lady.
"Thank the saints, my fair cousin, that you took my advice yesterday. The turret has fallen."
"Then we are lost."
"Not yet. The Swedes thought it would fall into the moat, but it has fallen inside. The enemy will soon try an assault. Come to this window which overlooks the walls. Can you see? Father Hieronymus is on his knees by the large gun. I will wager that he sees the Swedish king."
The count was right. The Jesuit's keen glance was fixed on one spot, and his lips hastily muttered prayer after prayer. He had discovered Gustaf Adolf on horseback with Pehr Brahe. The two kept near the outworks, sheltered somewhat by a heap of debris. Father Hieronymus relied upon the heavy shot, into which, with prayers and fasting, he had run the gold from the Holy Mother's mantle. He stooped to direct the cannon, and the pupils of his eyes contracted, his nostrils expanded, while Latin prayers continued to flow from his lips. Then he rose quickly, and after swinging the lighted match in the form of a cross, fired.