Chapter XLV: Nanci

My captor, Wolfgang Count Pappenheim, the intended son-in-law of Duke Charles, was the son and heir of the great Pappenheim of the German wars, he who had received no less than fourteen wounds at the battles of Leipzig and Prague, and was surnamed _le Balafré_, as he bore on his person exactly one hundred scars received in the field of honour.

Young Pappenheim had won himself a high reputation for bravery in those wars, especially by his defence of the castle of Wilsburg, a stronghold of the Margravine of Anspach, when it was assailed by the King of Sweden, who was anxious to secure it for the Protestants of the Franconian circle; but when summoned, Wolfgang replied--

'I will never surrender to a king of Sweden, but shall perish here, and the ruins of Wilsburg will be my monument.'

Gustavus believed him on his father's reputation, and consequently abandoned the siege. Thus I had 'the mortifying honour,' as Sergeant Alsfeldt told me, 'of having surrendered my sword to one of the finest soldiers in the army of the German emperor.'

In a state of anxiety that amounted almost to agony, I marched towards Nanci, along a road the darkness of which, as it was buried among coppice, was in unison with the gloom and loneliness that oppressed my heart. The cold white moon waned and went down beyond the level horizon. The country thereabout, though richly wooded, is flat and uninteresting, until the plain is bounded by the Vosges. The scenery grew dark, and the orangeries, vineyards, and coppice that bordered the way seemed black and sombre, as the stars, like diamonds in a dark-blue dome, twinkled in the early morning sky.

The yellow dawn began to gild its eastern quarter above the distant chain of the Vosges; green hill tops brightened in the rising tide of light, and the vanes of village spires and of old châteaux embosomed among oaks that were perhaps coeval with Lothario, king of Lorraine, glittered in the rosy beams. Squirrels and rabbits fled before us across the road from hedge to hedge; the larks began to sing joyously, as the brilliant morning came to gladden the hearts of all, apparently, but me; for I had but one thought--Nicola!

'Where was she, then? Where, how, and with whom had she passed the weary hours since our fatal separation?'

I dared not trust myself to think, as footsore, weary, damp with midnight dew, and covered with the dust of the summer roadway, I came in sight of the city of Nanci, which I now regarded with horror as the probable scene of a long and exasperating imprisonment, or (it might be) a cruel and ignominious death; for I was in the hands of soldiers who were without scruple, pity, or remorse--the fierce men of the long and barbarous thirty years' war.

Alsfeldt, the sergeant who had charge of me, proved, however, to be a kind and considerate fellow. Perceiving that I was without a covering for my head, he attempted to appropriate for my use the hat of the first man we met; a proceeding which I would by no means sanction. He was fond of extolling the bravery of his colonel, the Prince of Vaudemont, under whom he had served at the defence of Wilsburg, and in some of the more recent battles of the Empire. At a wayside beer-house I entertained him and the musketeers of my escort with cans of beer each; an act of attention which won me their entire good-will. The sergeant drank to my health and better fortune as he raised the huge wooden tankard to his lips and held it there, with the cheek-plates of his morion and his long, bushy moustaches dipping in the froth, till the contents were drained to the bottom. The soldiers all promised faithfully to prosecute every inquiry in the city and garrison concerning the lady I had lost at the auberge of the Three Willows; but they frankly told me that I had but a slender chance of seeing her again if she was actually lured away by the abductor of Laura of Lutzelstein.

The bells were being merrily rung as we entered Nanci, and we also heard heavy salvos of artillery thundered from the ramparts.

'What does all this mean?' I asked, 'Has a victory been won?'

'No, monsieur,' replied the sergeant; 'but Duke Charles and the Duke of Alsace pass in state through the streets to-day to high mass; and if you would wish to see them proceed from the palace to the church of St. Epurus, instead of marching you direct to where Count Pappenheim ordered me, I shall halt for a time in the great square to oblige you.'

'Thanks, sergeant,' said I; 'but as I neither wish to be stared at nor mocked by the rabble, I would rather proceed to prison at once.'

'Nay, monsieur, 'tis to the palace, and not to a prison I am to conduct you.'

Nanci, long celebrated as one of the most pleasant towns in Lorraine, stands in the midst of a beautiful plain on the left bank of the Meurthe, a river which rolls from the western flank of the Vosges, bearing rafts of timber and faggots on its foaming current to the lower country. Nanci is divided into two quarters: the old town of the eleventh century, and the new one of the fifteenth. The former, which is surrounded by walls, defended by towers, and enclosed by gates and ditches, contains, or contained in 1636, the ducal palace, the great square, which is planted with stately lime-trees, and the ancient parish church of St. Epurus. The streets through which I was conducted to this great square were old and quaint, crooked and narrow.

By a magnificent gate resembling a triumphal arch, but defended by cannon, and moreover decorated by green bays, garlands, and banners, we entered the city. Within were guards of citizens clad in fine velvet doublets, armed with sword, arquebuse, and partizan, wearing the Duke's colours in their scarfs and on their hats; while bodies of Lorraine troops and vassals, mingled with imperial pikemen, lancers, musketeers, and artillery, under the princes of Vaudemont and Lillebonne, filled all the thoroughfares. The Marquis de Marsal, the Counts of Rosiers and Luneville, with other military nobles of the two duchies, all clad in brilliant armour, with plumes in their helmets, gilded truncheons in their hands, and orders of chivalry sparkling on their breasts, rode through the streets, maintaining order among the vast concourse of citizens and peasantry who thronged them, to welcome and behold their gallant native prince--the hero of Prague--proceed from his ducal palace to the city church.

In the principal square and near the palace gate my escort halted and stood close around me. The sergeant placed his arm through mine for the double purpose of protecting me and precluding an escape; and there we stood unobserved among the masses of people who loaded the air of the clear, bright summer morning with clamorous shouts, while cheers, the tolling of bells, with the perpetual thunder of cannon and bombardes rang on every side.

Exactly at the hour of ten a commotion was visible at the palace; a thrill pervaded the dense multitude; all men present who were not soldiers uncovered their heads, and all grew silent for a moment; then there burst forth a hurrah of welcome as the procession issued from the bannered portal of the palace.

Duke Charles had been long absent from his native city, serving under his patron and protector the Emperor; and now, to celebrate his sudden return, all the loyalty of his people had flashed up, as if to gild with a farewell splendour the expiring glory of his house, and power--for the ancient Duchy of Lorraine was doomed ere long to be merged and lost in the growing kingdom of the line of St. Louis. Yet his forefathers had been men of power and valour, who had transmitted to him a noble inheritance, with numerous titles, for he was Duke of Lorraine and Merc[oe]ure; of Calabria, Bar, and Guelderland; Marquis of Pontamoussin, and Nomenay; of Provence, Vaudemont, Zutphen, Blamond, Saar-warden and Salm; Hereditary Provost of Kummelsberg and Governor of Anjou.