In half an hour he
reached the Swedish lines, and rode at once to the tent of the duke
who was upon the point of mounting; beside him stood a man in the
livery of Wallenstein. As he rode up Malcolm drew his pistol, and
said to the man:
"If you move a foot I will send a bullet through your head."
"What is this?" exclaimed the duke in astonishment, "and who are
you, sir, who with such scant courtesy ride into my camp?"
Malcolm raised his vizor. "I am Captain Graheme of Munro's
regiment," he said, "and I have ridden here to warn your excellency
of treachery. Wallenstein has been foully murdered. Egra is in
the hands of the Imperialists, the Duke of Saxe-Lauenburg has been
beguiled into a trap and taken prisoner, and this fellow, who is
one of Butler's troopers, has been sent here to lead you into a
like snare."
"Wallenstein murdered!" the duke exclaimed in tones of horror.
"Murdered, say you? Impossible!"
"It is but too true, sir," Malcolm replied; "I myself saw his friends
Illo, Terzky, and Kinsky assassinated before my eyes at a banquet.
Wallenstein was murdered by his favourites Leslie and Gordon and
the Irishman Butler. I was seized and thrown into a dungeon, but
have escaped by a miracle to warn you of your danger."
"This is a blow indeed," the duke said mournfully. Turning to
his attendants he ordered them to hang the false messenger to the
nearest tree, and then begged Malcolm to follow him into his tent
and give him full details of this terrible transaction.
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