It was
now nearly two years since a pitched battle had been fought, for
although there had been many skirmishes and assaults in the preceding
year no great encounter had taken place between the armies since
Gustavus fell at Lutzen, in October, 1632, and the Scotch brigade
had not been present at that battle. In the time which had elapsed
many recruits had arrived from Scotland, and Munro's regiment had
been again raised to the strength at which it had landed at Rugen
four years before. Not half a dozen of the officers who had then,
full of life and spirit, marched in its ranks were now present.
Death had indeed been busy among them. On the evening of their
arrival in sight of the Imperialist army the two Grahemes supped
with their colonel. Munro had but just arrived from the duke's
quarters.
"I suppose we shall fight tomorrow, Munro," Major Graheme said.
"It is not settled," the colonel replied; "between ourselves the
duke and Horn are not of one mind. The duke wants to fight; he
urges that were we to allow Nordlingen to fall, as we have allowed
Ratisbon and Donauworth, without striking a blow to save it, it would
be an evidence of caution and even cowardice which would have the
worst possible effect through Germany. Nordlingen has ever been
staunch to the cause, and the Protestants would everywhere fall away
from us did they find that we had so little care for their safety
as to stand by and see them fall into the hands of the Imperialists
without an effort.
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