CHAPTER V MARAUDERS

Malcolm had brought with him from Tilly’s camp a supply of provisions sufficient for three or four days, and a flask of wine.  Before he started from New Brandenburg the syndic had slipped into his band a purse containing ten gold pieces, and whenever he came to a village which had escaped the ravages of the war he had no difficulty in obtaining provisions.

It was pitiable at each place to see the anxiety with which the villagers crowded round him upon his arrival and questioned him as to the position of the armies and whether he had met with any parties of raiders on the way.  Everywhere the cattle had been driven into the woods; boys were posted as lookouts on eminences at a distance to bring in word should any body of men be seen moving in that direction; and the inhabitants were prepared to fly instantly at the approach of danger.

The news that Tilly’s army was marching in the opposite direction was received with a deep sense of thankfulness and relief, for they were now assured of a respite from his plunderers, although still exposed to danger from the arrival of some of the numerous bands.  These, nominally fighting for one or other of the parties, were in truth nothing but marauders, being composed of deserters and desperadoes of all kinds, who lived upon the misfortunes of the country, and were even more cruel and pitiless than were the regular troops.

At one of these villages Malcolm exchanged his attire as a serving man of a rich burgher for that of a peasant lad.  He was in ignorance of the present position of the Swedish army, and was making for the intrenched camp of Schwedt, on the Oder, which Gustavus had not left when he had last heard of him.

On the fourth day after leaving the camp of Tilly, as Malcolm was proceeding across a bare and desolate country he heard a sound of galloping behind him, and saw a party of six rough looking horsemen coming along the road.  As flight would have been useless he continued his way until they overtook him.  They reined up when they reached him.

“Where are you going, boy, and where do you belong to?” the leader of the party asked.

“I am going in search of work,” Malcolm answered.  “My village is destroyed and my parents killed.”

“Don’t tell me that tale,” the man said, drawing a pistol from his holster.  “I can tell by your speech that you are not a native of these parts.”

There was nothing in the appointments of the men to indicate which party they favoured, and Malcolm thought it better to state exactly who he was, for a doubtful answer might be followed by a pistol shot, which would have brought his career to a close.

“You are right,” he said quietly; “but in these times it is not safe always to state one’s errand to all comers.  I am a Scotch officer in the army of the King of Sweden.  I was in New Brandenburg when it was stormed by Tilly.  I disguised myself, and, passing unnoticed, was forced to accompany his army as a teamster.  The second night I escaped, and am now making my way to Schwedt, where I hope to find the army.”