The terrible Wallenstein had become reconciled to the emperor, and gathering a formidable army, turned like a dark cloud upon the rich city of Nürnberg. Gustaf Adolf cut short his victorious career in Bavaria, and hurried to meet him; and here the two armies remained in entrenched camps facing each other for eleven weeks—the panther and the lion, ready to spring, sharply watched each other's movements. The surrounding country was stripped bare to provide for the wants of the two hosts, and foraging parties were constantly dispatched to more remote places to get supplies. Among the Imperialists those mostly employed in this task were Isolani's Croats; the Swedes generally sent Taupadel's dragoons and Stälhandske's Finnish cavalry.
Famine, heat, and plague, and the plundering German soldiers, spread want and misery everywhere. Gustaf Adolf, having united himself with Oxenstjerna's and Baner's forces, could now muster 50,000 men. On the 24th of August, 1632, he marched against Wallenstein, who stood behind impregnable entrenchments. Long before daylight the thunder of Torstensson's guns was heard against Alte Veste. In the darkness of the night 500 musketeers of the white brigade were climbing up the steep redoubts, and reached the tops under a terrible fire. For a moment victory seemed to reward their strenuous efforts; confusion reigned amongst the half-awakened enemy; the cries of the women, and the fire from the Swedes, added to the disorder, and made the attack easy. But Wallenstein, calm and unmoved, sent away the women, and directed a murderous fire on the assailants. The brave brigade was driven back with heavy losses. The king, however, would not give way; once more the white brigade renewed the attack; but in vain. Gustaf Adolf then called his Finns, for, as Schiller relates, "the courage of the Northmen puts the Germans to shame." It was the East Bothnians in the ranks of the Swedish brigade. Death stared them in the face in the form of hundreds of guns; with unsurpassed courage and determination they climbed up the entrenchments, slippery with rain and blood. But against these strong works and the deadly fire, nothing could prevail; in the midst of death and destruction they tried again to reach the top of the redoubts, but in vain; those who escaped the shot and pikes were hurled back; for the first time one saw Gustaf Adolf's Finns retreat; and the attempts made by the other troops were also in vain. The Imperialists hastened out in pursuit, but were driven back; again they sallied forth with the same result. With heavy losses on both sides the battle continued all day, and many of the bravest commanders were killed. The angel of death again sent a bullet towards the king, but it only touched the sole of his boot.
The Imperial cavalry fought with the Swedish on the left flank. Cronenberg, with his cuirassiers, clad in iron mail from head to feet, who were called "the invincibles," overthrew the Hessians. The Landgrave of Hessen remarked with anger that the king by the sacrifice of the German troops tried to save his own.
"Very well," said Gustaf Adolf, "I will send my Finns, and hope that the change of troops will bring a change of fortune."
Stälhandske, with the Finns, was now sent against Cronenberg and his invincibles. A grand contest, which will never be forgotten, then started between these two powerful forces; on the shore of the River Regnitz, which was covered with bushes, these troops met in conflict, man to man, horse to horse; swords were blunted on helmets, long pistols flashed, and many a brave horseman was driven into the river. The Finns' horses were hardier than the beautiful Hungarian chargers, and thus they shared in the victory. The brave Cronenberg fell, and his invincibles then fled from the Finns. In his place, Fugger appeared with a great force, and drew the Finns in continuous battle slowly towards the enemy in the forest. But here the Imperialists were met with the fire from the Swedish infantry. Fugger fell, and his horsemen were again routed by the exhausted Finns.
At the close of the day more than three thousand killed covered the hills and the fields. "In the battle at Alte Veste, Gustaf Adolf was considered worsted, because the attack failed," says Schiller. The following day he altered his position, and on the 8th of September he marched away to Bavaria. Forty-four thousand men, both friends and foes, had been destroyed by plague and war during these terrible weeks in and around Nürnberg.
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The darkness of the autumn increased, and its fogs covered the blood-stained fields of Germany, and still the battles did not cease. Here it was ordained that only one great spirit should find everlasting rest, after many storms, and pass from life's dark night to eternal light. The angel of death came closer over Gustaf Adolf's noble head, and threw over him a gleam of light from a higher world, which is sometimes seen shining around the great souls of the earth in their last moments. The bystanders do not understand it, but the departing ones know what it means. Two days before his death, Gustaf Adolf received the homage of a god from the people of Naumburg, but through his soul fled the shadow of the coming change, and he said to the royal chaplain, Fabricius:
"Perhaps God will soon punish them for their foolishness, and myself also, the object of it; and show that I am only a weak mortal."
The king had marched into Saxony to follow the traces of the destructive Wallenstein. At Arnstadt he bade farewell to Axel Oxenstjerna; in Erfurt he said good-bye to the queen. There, and in Naumburg, one could see by his arrangements that he was prepared for what would come. Wallenstein, who thought he had gone into winter quarters, sent Pappenheim away to Halle with 12,000 men; he himself stood at Lützen with 28,000, and the king was in Naumburg with 20,000 men.