Gustav Adolf, to save him, said that he was
the King.[1] At that they shot him through the head, and showered
blows upon him. When the body was found in the night it was naked.
They had robbed and stripped him.
[Footnote 1: This is the story as the page told it. He lived two
days.]
The King was dead. Through the Swedish ranks Duke Bernhard shouted
the tidings. "Who now cares to live? Forward, to avenge his death!"
With the blind fury of the Berserkers of old the Swedes cleared the
ditches, stormed the breastworks, and drove the foe in a panic
before them. The Duke's arm was broken by a bullet. He hardly knew
it. With his regiment he rode down the crew of one of the enemy's
batteries and swept on. In the midst of it all a cry resounded over
the plain that made the runaways halt and turn back.
"Pappenheim! Pappenheim is here!"
He had come with his Walloons in answer to the general's summons.
"Where is the King?" he asked, and they pointed to the Finnish
brigade. With a mighty crash the two hosts that had met so often
before came together. Wallenstein mustered his scattered forces and
the King's army was attacked from three sides at once. The yellow
brigade fell where it stood almost to the last man. The blue fared
little better.
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