The Vasas were among the oldest and best of the great Swedish families.  It was said of them that they ever loved a friend, hated a foe, and never forgot.  Gustav was born in the castle of Lindholmen, when the news that the world had grown suddenly big by the discovery of lands beyond the unknown seas was still ringing through Europe, on May 12, 1496.  He was brought up in the home of his kinsman, the Swedish patriot Sten Sture, and early showed the fruits of his training.  “See what I will do,” he boasted in school when he was thirteen, “I will go to Dalecarlia, rouse the people, and give the Jutes (Danes) a black eye.”  Master Ivar, his Danish teacher, gave him a whaling for that.  White with anger, the boy drove his dirk through the book, nailing it to the desk, and stalked out of the room.  Master Ivar’s eyes followed the slim figure in the scarlet cloak, and he sighed wearily “nobilium nati nolunt aliquid pati,—­the children of the great will put up with nothing.”

Hardly yet of age, he served under the banner of Sten Sture against King Christian, and was one of six hostages sent to the King when he asked an interview of the Swedish leader.  But Christian stayed away from the meeting and carried the hostages off to Denmark against his plighted faith.  There Gustav was held prisoner a year.  All that winter rumors of great armaments against Sweden filled the land.  He heard the young bloods from the court prate about bending the stiff necks in the country across the Sound, and watched them throw dice for Swedish castles and Swedish women,—­part of the loot when his fatherland should be laid under the yoke.  Ready to burst with anger and grief, he sat silent at their boasts.  In the spring he escaped, disguised as a cattle-herder, and made his way to Luebeck, where he found refuge in the house of the wealthy merchant Kort Koenig.

They soon heard in Denmark where he was, and the King sent letters demanding his surrender; but the burghers of the Hanse town hated Christian with cause, and would not give him up.  Then came Gustav’s warder who had gone bail for him in sixteen hundred gulden, and pleaded for his prisoner.

“I am not a prisoner,” was Gustav’s retort, “I am a hostage, for whom the Danish king pledged his oath and faith.  If any one can prove that I was taken captive in a fight or for just cause, let him stand forth.  Ambushed was I, and betrayed.”  The Luebeck men thought of the plots King Christian was forever hatching against them.  Now, if he succeeded in getting Sweden under his heel, their turn would come next.  Better, they said, send this Gustav home to his own country, perchance he might keep the King busy there; by which they showed their good sense.  His ex-keeper was packed off back home, and Gustav reached Sweden, sole passenger on a little coast-trader, on May 31, 1520.  A stone marks the spot where he landed, near Kalmar; for then struck the hour of Sweden’s freedom.