He died on the march soon after. Men said of him that he had served
his master well.
The snow-king had not melted in the south. He was master of the
Roman empire from the Baltic to the Alps. The way to Austria and
Italy lay open before him. Protestant princes crowded to do him
homage, offering him the imperial crown. But Gustav Adolf did not
lose his head. Toward the humbled Catholics he showed only
forbearance and toleration. In Munich he visited the college of the
Jesuits, and spoke long with the rector in the Latin tongue,
assuring him of their safety as long as they kept from politics and
plotting. The armory in that city was known to be the best stocked
in all Europe and the King's surprise was great when he found
gun-carriages in plenty, but not a single cannon. Looking about him,
he saw evidence that the floor had been hastily relaid and
remembered the "dead" monks at Wuerzburg. He had it taken up and a
dark vault appeared. The King looked into it.
"Arise!" he called out, "and come to judgment," and amid shouts of
laughter willing hands brought out a hundred and forty good guns,
welcome reenforcements.
The ignorant Bavarian peasants had been told that the King was the
very anti-Christ, come to harass the world for its sins, and carried
on a cruel guerilla warfare upon his army.
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