CHAPTER V: THE RETURN OF THE FALLEN

GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS II (1594-1632)

ELECTED KING OF SWEDEN, OF THE GOTHS AND VANDALS

Gustavus Adolphus II. Elected King of Sweden, of the Goths and Vandals

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"Even such is Time, which takes in Trust,
Our Youth, our Joy, our All we Have,
And pays us but with Earth and Dust,
Who in the Dark and Silent Grave,
Where we have wandered all our Ways,
Shuts up the story of our Days
But from this Earth, this Grave, this Dust,
My God will raise me up, I trust."
—Walter Raleigh.

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"Ille faciet..."
—King Charles IX, of Gustavus Adolphus II.

*

"Virtue alone outlasts the Pyramids
Her monuments remain, when Egypt's fall."
—Edward Young.

CHAPTER V

THE RETURN OF THE FALLEN

Gustavus remained three weeks in Munich, his affable manners, his charming personality, his moderation and justice winning love even from the Roman Catholics; he carried his toleration so far as to attend High Mass on Ascension Day, where for two hours he listened to, and beheld the solemn pomp and imposing ceremonies of the faith he had come to combat and to check.

Not for a moment was he deceived as to the stability of all this sparkling glory; his allies were more jealous than ever, his friends more disunited; worst of all, Wallenstein had at last concluded a bargain with the Emperor.

An infernal bargain it was, in substance this: Wallenstein was to raise an army by any means he could, he was to support it by any means he could, and he was to have over it supreme authority; in no way was Ferdinand to interfere, even in matters of life and death; Wallenstein was to be King and Governor over any troops he could get. This was the Bohemian's revenge for his dismissal, which still rankled so gallingly in his cold heart; the Emperor had to take him at his own terms, but with bitter resentment and the resolve to get rid of him the moment he was no longer necessary; the murder of Wallenstein, which actually took place in 1634, was no doubt decided upon when he took over the command of the Imperial forces in the spring of 1632.

Everyone hated Wallenstein; but it was a mighty name; in three months it had got together forty thousand men, the most ruthless, bloody, dishonest ruffians ever called soldiers, scoundrels of all classes, faiths, and nationalities; there was, they knew, no hope of pay from Ferdinand, but there was great hope of plunder from Wallenstein, the boldest robber, the most unscrupulous mercenary even in an age so prolific of both.

Wallenstein began by tampering with the treacherous John George; and with Arnim, his one-time lieutenant, who had recently gone over to the Protestants, he was soon in complete accord; the toils of treachery began to enmesh Gustavus.

Wallenstein soon made the terror of his name lively again in Germany; he pressed into Saxony, the Saxons ran, and blood and ruin marked the track of the fell followers of the awful Bohemian.

Gustavus left Munich, moved northwards, heard on every side bad news, the wavering of John George, the falling away of the Bavarian conquests, the march of Maximilian to meet Wallenstein, the rush of Pappenheim on to Franconia.

The Swede's great hope and desire was a pitched battle in which he could crush Wallenstein as he had crushed Tilly at Breitenfeld, but he did not know how to accomplish this; he was too beset, his operations were on too large a scale; it was almost impossible for him to have a definite and concerted plan of action.

He made a dashing attempt to prevent the junction of his enemies, but was too late. Wallenstein touched with Maximilian, June 14th, 1632, and then "All in thunder and lightning, all in fire and tempest" took and destroyed the Palatinate.

He had now sixty-five thousand troops, which his genius for command, the icy force of his character and the fascination of his name, kept in hand, villains as they were; the authority of such a man as Wallenstein over such troops as his can well be likened to the authority of Lucifer over lesser devils.

Gustavus had split up his forces so that he had only eighteen thousand men under his personal command; he fell back on Nuremberg, which he had pledged his word to protect. On came Wallenstein, bloated with the blood, black with the smoke of sacked and burning towns and villages, threatening vengeance against Nuremberg.

It was more to the honour than to the advantage of Gustavus to remain in this city; had he abandoned it to the fury of the Imperialists and fallen back on the Rhine he might have drawn up all his forces, detached Maximilian (who was not likely to fight outside Bavaria), met Wallenstein on equal terms, and come to a truce or a peace with Ferdinand.

But it was out of the question for Gustavus to abandon Nuremberg; he at once additionally fortified the city, encamped and entrenched his army round it, and waited for Wallenstein, who came up with his huge army and a train of Imperialist generals, Maximilian himself, Gallas, Aldringer, Piccolomini, Hoick and Sparre, all brave with plumes and gold, spangles and steel.

Gustavus, spying them through his perspective glass, hoped for a battle; but such was not Wallenstein's desire. At first he was inclined to betray Ferdinand to Gustavus, then he sat down to starve the Swedes out; taking no notice of the other generals, Wallenstein withdrew into his tent in the midst of his eight-mile camp and coldly waited outside the Swedish positions.

Wallenstein kept his own hordes together by sheer terror, hangings and floggings, and disclosed his mind to no one; his icy coldness seemed to scorn all men, friend and foe.

He had one advantage over Gustavus, the possession of the Croats, light cavalry excellent at forays, "the ranke riders and common harryers of the Imperial army" who scoured up all available provisions for miles round, while the Swedes had no horsemen.

For two months this inaction went on; then hunger, then plague broke out in the town, in both camps; Gustavus had to see people die so fast graves could not be made to hold them, dead horses tainting the air, men fighting for a pittance of bread, a fragment of meat.

In those ghastly summer months 29,000 souls perished among besiegers and besieged, the wretched Frederic fell ill, the famous discipline of Gustavus began to break.

This infuriated the King; he blamed, and justly, not the Swedes, but the Germans.

"They are no Swedes that commit these crimes," he said sternly to the troops, "but you Germans yourselves. Had I known you to be such a people...I would never have saddled a horse for your sakes...I came but to restore every man to his own, but this most accursed and devilish robbing of yours does much abate my purpose. I have not enriched myself by as much as by one pair of boots since my coming to Germany, though I have had forty tons of gold pass through my hands."

While Gustavus was thus inactive in Nuremberg he was not idle; he drafted out, in common with the German Princes with him the terms of a peace to be offered to the Emperor, one of which was the acceptance by Ferdinand of the cherished Corpus Evangelicorum of Gustavus.

The conditions in town and camps became more terrible; Wallenstein regarded the agonies of his men with dark indifference, but Gustavus could not endure the sufferings of the Swedes; when, on 12th August, his reinforcements under Oxenstiern, Banèr and Bernard reached Nuremberg he resolved to storm the Imperial camp on the hills at Alte Veste. He had hoped that Wallenstein would be drawn out to prevent the reinforcements coming up; but the Bohemian never stirred and Gustavus began to be desperate from sheer want of food.

On the 24th August a general assault was made on Alte Veste, a frantic fight of twelve hours against awful odds (with the King as usual in the hottest of the contest) which ended in the repulse of the Swedes; they left four thousand dead on the slopes, Banèr wounded, Torstenson a prisoner; Gustavus had had his boot shot away, Bernard's horse had been killed under him. Wallenstein remained unmoved, but admitted that the battle had been hot; to the Emperor he wrote that "the King's course is already downward, he has completely lost credit and will be completely done for as soon as Pappenheim arrives."

While he wrote this Gustavus had drawn off from Nuremberg, leaving a garrison behind him; four days afterwards Wallenstein, too, left the walls of the famished city.

Gustavus had, with touching, simple gallantry, sent him a challenge, which he had ignored, but now he was after the Swede to defeat him in the open; at Merseburg he met Pappenheim while Gustavus was returning to the siege of Ingolstadt. On hearing that the enemy was in Saxony, Gustavus swung round, left Bavaria, and in eighteen days was at Erfurt—"as if he had flown," said Wallenstein, checked in his advance on Dresden; he, too, turned and came up to Naumburg, to entrench himself against the King.

It was late October now, and cold. Wallenstein did not believe that Gustavus would fight that winter.

But the King had decided to do so; he felt that his only security lay in the possibility of another victory like Breitenfeld; he was filled, too, with a strong presentiment that his work was over, his life done; it would be a miracle indeed if he could continue to fight as he had fought, expose himself as he had exposed himself, and live.

With Oxenstierna, as they had marched through the autumn forests of Thuringia, he had spoken of his beloved kingdom and his little child, drawing up a plan of regency for Christina if he should fall; at Saale, where the marketplace was packed with people praising him, he had said:

"Think not of me, I am a weak and dying man. Think of the Cause."

He took a kind farewell of his Queen, who had come to Erfurt, of his Chancellor, charged the garrison to have a good care of them, and rode after his troops, on the 31st of October 1632.

Wallenstein took Leipzig, but Gustavus saved Naumburg; the inhabitants went on their knees to him in their gratitude and the King was troubled.

"God will surely punish me for receiving such adoration—yet I hope He will not suffer my work to fail whatever becomes of me."

COUNTDOWN TO LÜTZEN VII: DAYS OF VICTORIES V

DAYS OF VICTORIES

A historical tale by Werner von Heidenstam
translated from the Swedish and adapted by Sandra Dermark

V. The raid on the Old Holdfast

The Catholics saw with dread how the invincible Protestant army was gradually closing in on the Kaiser's own capital. Tilly lay in his grave, and the other, even more redoubtable warlord, Wallenstein, who had been banished on account of his hubris, sat, ominous and offended, at his distant palace of Friedland. Before him lay a chart on which zodiac signs had been drawn. He didn't want to hear about religion, but the dark loner did believe in the stars. They were his gods. By the position of the stars and the planets, he believed he could read the events of his life in the future, and he read of a great, dizzying destiny. Yet the Kaiser had to beg for a long time, and to promise him unfathomable glory and power, and even carte blanche, before he rose once more from obscurity, to support him with freshly-recruited troops. Until then, Gustavus Adolphus had led the events of the war, but Wallenstein decided to quietly and secretly force him to return up north again, step by step, not by uncertain battle, but by attacking his allies, and through war of attrition and want, like by means of a mysterious enchantment.

A half mile away from Nuremberg, Wallenstein had built, on three hills, a mammoth camp, that everyone spoke of as if it had been a fairytale. It was so vast that its triple palisade of deforestated woodland even encircled streams and hamlets. It took many hours to ride around its perimetre, and breastplates and cannons were glimmering everywhere.

"As long as I breathe", Gustavus Adolphus said, "Wallenstein will never succeed".

And he wrote to Oxenstierna, who was making haste thither with reinforcements: "This opponent is an evil spirit, that only can be exorcized through fasting". Wallenstein's fortified hills loomed like a world of wraiths, whose residents never showed themselves at the light of day, but still spread dread and misery. The water in the springs and fountains was poisoned. Famished stray horses staggered on the roads, and some of them, stung by gadflies, had become mad and threw themselves headlong from the steep cliffs. On the streets, ailing people lay starving and dying of fever. In Wallenstein's camp, the filth reached such levels that the soldiers couldn't sleep at night, for the tents were completely full of grasshoppers.

Then, one dark autumn night, Wallenstein awoke to the sound of gunshots and to the shouts of wide-awake women and youngsters. Mothers used to scare their children with threats of the Swedes to make them behave themselves, and now, the bullets of the dreaded ones were already rattling through the tents. Gustavus Adolphus could no longer bear to see his men suffer. With muskets in their right hands and the left ones free, his soldiers were climbing up the deforestated and steep slopes of the highest hill.

On the top of the hill, there was an old holdfast. There stood Wallenstein, against the rays of the rising sun, which, for instants, managed to pierce the thick gunsmoke. A dark armour covered his slender torso, and his face, the sun caught red in his raven hair, remained inexpressive, like that of a dead man. None of his warriors had ever seen him laugh or received a word of kindness from his lips. Sternly and coldly, he gave his commands in a sharp voice, keeping silence every now and then. From total obscurity, he had risen to the power which he had created himself, and only his presence was enough for his soldiers to fight with all their fury.

Time after time, the Swedes were put to rout, and the living slipped on the blood of the slain. Ablaze with impatience, the King commanded the army in the midst of the carnage and gunfire, and the sole of one of his boots was shot away. Lennart Torstensson was taken prisoner and, afterwards, imprisoned in such a moist and cold dungeon in Ingolstadt (where Tilly had died) that he would later suffer from painful gout for a lifetime. 
With a flashing, slashing blade in his hand, Stålhandske stormed forth, surrounded by his Finnish riders, but they were driven backwards down the slope. When night finally fell with splashing rain, which would render gunpowder useless, the attackers were forced to turn back.

However, it didn't last long before they attempted to storm the Old Holdfast one more time. One day, the Swedish army was placed in battle array before Wallenstein's camp, waiting for four hours to give battle. But, as mysteriously silently as he used to sit himself in a reunion, his cannons and muskets kept silence. Even the sentinels went back into the encampment. Only when the Swedes had marched away did Wallenstein finally leave the place. And, behind him, the whole great holdfast burned to the ground, for he had given orders that that should be done.

Soon, news and more news would come from Saxony that Wallenstein had begun to devastate their land. To support their allies, the Swedes marched even further up north, travelling on the same roads they had already taken before in the victorious days of Breitenfeld. Oxenstierna rode by the King's side, and, like the year before, the march went, at night, through wooded valleys, by the light of blazing torches. Slowly and quietly, for no one to hear their words, both riders conversed about their dearest dreams, of a Northern Baltic Empire and an alliance of Scandinavian and Germanic Protestants with Sweden for a leading land. Serious and pensive, they finally took their leave of each other, weighed down by a silent intuition that this farewell was perchance their last one.

When the King rode into Erfurt, where Mary Eleanor was waiting for him, she had, full of desire, already hastened to the market square in the company of her court ladies. He followed her up to their apartments in the local castle, but both were so distracted and in such low spirits that everyone realized it. Hustle and bustle reigned in every corner, and, the very next morning, he had to lead his army against Wallenstein, who was not far away from his present quarters. He entrusted the Queen to his council, called war a scourge, and reminded everyone that he, himself, could every moment fall prey to misfortune or death.

"We shall see each other", he whispered to her. "If not in this finite life, it will be in the joys of Eternity".

With tears in both their eyes, they embraced clinging to each other, he gave her the most passionate of his kisses, and then he rode away into the sunset.

...

THE RINGSTETTEN SAGA VI: A NEW ADVERSARY

Previously on the Ringstetten Saga:
The old veteran has learned at Breitenfeld that he was meant to fall and to lose to a younger, more open-minded opponent. And that act of kindness provided by Gustavus makes him reflect on the Swedish ruler's character contrasted with his own. He tells the surgeon: "Your liege is truly a noble knight!"
Though Jean 't Serclaës de Tilly has lost self-confidence and he feels that the end is near, he keeps on advising Elector Maximilian: "Hold Regensburg, and if it should fall, flee abroad! Hold Regensburg!" Then, the old Walloon kisses his rosary, his hand drops holding it, he shuts his eyes and stops breathing, as his rapier, that hangs from the wall, falls to the ground. The clank of Spanish steel in utter darkness is the last impression he receives in seventy-three long years.
The Swedes do show their emotions at the funeral, as the Requiem and Dies irae are chanted, when the deceased generalissimo is to be conveyed to his favourite chapel of Altötting: the church on the Tillyan regiment's flag. Even Gustavus himself is shedding tears: "Alas! The honorable old Tilly is no more!"
The Protestant army then captures Regensburg, the Elector flees subsequently abroad, and soon the whole Electorate of Bavaria, its capital and all, is at the Swedes' feet, and Austria before them.
The Kaiser has no other choice than playing a wild card: a younger and more open-minded, but dangerously wealthy and clever commander. Guess his surname!
Well, if you have thought of "Wallenstein", as in "Albrecht Eusebius Wenzel von Wallenstein", you won't get any prize, in spite of the fact that you haven't got it wrong.
So the appearance of this perverted parvenu forces the Swedish army to return up north again in mid-summer. Cue Gustavus storming the Alte Feste on the 24th of August, to force the Imperialists to leave their headquarters and make a sortie! Cue Kunz, Gerhard's ensign, falling... among the many casualties of the first wave raid! Luckily, Gerhard and Alois escape the violent and bloody decimation. It could get worse. And worse is what it all gets. The Swedes lose the battle, dozens of flags and half their ranks.
The former Leaguesman, now raised to the rank of sergeant for saving Gerhard's life at the Lech, is wounded in the head and chest, while the lieutenant is taken prisoner and brought alive, with many other POWs of officer rank, to Wallenstein's headquarters. There, they have a first glimpse of the Kaiser's new generalissimo: a raven-haired, finely styled and all dressed up parvenu with an ominous death glare.
The highest-ranking prisoners (colonels and generals, including the daring Johan Banér and the more serious Lennart Torstensson) are carried in chains to Catholic dungeons, while the lower-ranking ones such as Gerhard are freed and allowed to return to the Swedish encampment to tell their liege of Wallenstein's plans. Then, the Catholics leave the stronghold, which they set on fire, for more northern lands, intending to recapture the Leipzig area and lure Gustavus into a trap, ensuring that the Swedes will counterattack in November (when, according to the stars, the Swedish king is due to fall in battle). As you might expect, the Swedes find the empty fort burning to the ground, and the released subaltern officers informing them of their new adversary's plans. Liselotte and Hedwig are overjoyed to see Gerhard free and among friends, but the now seventeeen-year-old lieutenant is puzzled: why would Wallenstein set him free? There is something about the seemingly kindly and cool generalissimo that gives him (Gerhard) a thrill!
As for Alois, he recovers from his wounds within a week and a half.
The late Kunz has been replaced as ensign by a born Swedish farm boy, the blond, freckled and blue-eyed Erik Klang, knighted von Hohenklang by royal decree.
A year and a day have elapsed since the Ringstetten siblings left Küstrin.
Gustavus wants the rematch, and thus, he sets off in pursuit of Wallenstein.
During their autumnal pursuit of the Duke of Friedland, our four young heroes learn a lot about him (since Alois had been at Wallenstein's service before the great general's disgrace): he was born into the Bohemian landed gentry (in the province he nowadays rules), with the surname Waldstein, known to be a troublemaker at 16 and expelled from Altdorf University, he has travelled to many petty courts, battlefields and seats of learning in Southern Europe... earned his fortune and a longer surname by marrying a childless dowager way past her prime, and then (after the death of his first wife) by marrying the Austrian Chancellor's daughter, his current spouse and mother of their two children... he is even wealthier and smarter than the Kaiser himself... this Wallenstein guy was once allied with Tilly, but that was rather short-lived... many courtiers have left Vienna for Friedland in search of more comfort and pleasure: "Compared to Friedland, the Hofburg is a nunnery! The Wallensteins keep dozens of pure-bred horses and of blue-blooded servants, they feast every evening from platinum tableware and sip the choicest Riesling or Champagne from the choicest Bohemian glass!" Then there's his fear of loud noises such as gunfire (the reason why Wallensteinian officers wear satin ribbons wrapped around their spurs while not on horseback, and why household servants at Friedland wear slippers), his brittle health, that forces him to strut around in a sedan chair instead of riding on horseback, his quick temper and the fact that he has anyone in his ranks or household who contradicts him executed... But, above all, his passion for science, especially for astrology: it is on the Ides of November that Gustavus will meet his fate according to the stars... The Noble House Wallenstein’s motto, Invita Invidia, is well-known throughout the Realm. And the Kaiser has given this mysterious upstart, said to be skilled in necromancy, carte blanche!
We get to know from the King why he has spared the lives of Catholic civilians, and even why he sent his own surgeon to tend to Count Tilly's wounds.
When he was a child, his father Charles IX, a stern and no-nonsense ruler who rarely smiled or cried or celebrated anything, took the young Gustavus to witness the beheadings of Catholic nobles (fortunately, only adult males were executed), and even Johan Banér's father was one of those executed, little Johan’s widowed mother having to raise her ten children alone, and the people of the estate, like those of many noble houses, still refusing to acknowledge Charles IX as their rightful king, called their liege still Duke of Värmland, a usurper, and a traitor.

However, the Count of Banér was beheaded not on religious, but rather on other grounds: for supporting the late king Johan III’s Polish Catholic widow and their fatherless child, whom Johan III’s brother Charles had sent back across the Baltic as he claimed the throne of Sweden.

One day, the royal family visited the Banér estate, to pay condolences to the countess dowager. That day, Charles IX had offered her second son Johan a place at court as a pageboy. Yet Countess Christina would, obviously, be forced to accept the offer, or else the Crown would claim the lands of House Banér.

It came as no surprise that little Johan (a rebellious lordling who would never pay attention to his lessons and rather do pranks, and who had jumped off a first-storey window and been preserved like Wallenstein), when he was offered to sit on the usurper’s knees, pulled his golden and already silver-streaked goatee, and refused to leave for the royal court, taunting Charles IX: “Why would I serve you? You killed my father! May devils take you away!”

Charles IX would gladly have knocked the child unconscious, if his own young hopeful hadn’t leapt in between. And thus, Gustavus Adolphus saved Banér for the first time.

The stern ruler was irascible, and troubled by pangs of conscience after having purged Sweden of Catholics and other enemies within the realm, but his unusually brave and clever eldest son's smiles had a soothing effect on his wrath and regrets, so he had great expectations of Gustavus and usually said "He shall do it" ("He shall do what I could not").

Charles IX died of a heart attack, after reading an offensive challenge letter from Christian IV of Denmark (a letter which said he was too old or too cautious to start a war), when Gustavus was in his late teens. 
During a deer hunt, the new king lured the young courtier, then an ensign, who was his liege lord's age, away from the rest of the party. There, by a shimmering lake, he told Johan to dismount and, drawing his own sword, gave it to the dark-haired youth.
"My father put yours to death," Gustavus told Johan, "if you wish to avenge him, I give you now the chance to take my life! Take my life, now or never! If not, let us be friends forever!" Banér was so affected by the young ruler's manners and tone of speech that he threw himself at Gustavus's feet, vowing to him a lifelong devotion.
For the Danish and Polish wars, the Vasa took young Banér to fight as a lieutenant in the Army. And thus, the ties that bound them became even stronger, reaching even the quality of love. The general is not even jealous of Queen Eleanor, ever since he accompanied his liege lord to her mother's court in Potsdam.

And thus, Gustavus was and is determined to spare as many lives as he could, and to clear the name of House Vasa, stained with the blood of feuding brothers.

By All Hallows (31-10/1-11), Leipzig, Halle, and the villages in the surrounding area have been taken back by the Imperialists. Eleanor is especially worried about the fate of her spouse, having seen his death on the battlefield in a prophetic dream. Gustavus has received and replied to a letter from his little daughter Christina at Stegeborg. Count Pappenheim, now Wallenstein's Man Friday, is commanding the garrison of Halle an der Saale and quelling an uprising in the local marketplace. Gerhard and Alois, especially our young lieutenant, are worried about the outcome of the upcoming confrontation. Liselotte and Hedwig are also worried, but about the ones they love. Liselotte wishes to marry Gerhard in Leipzig Cathedral on Christmas Eve, and he has even made her lace veil. And Albrecht von Wallenstein, together with his son and heir Berthold, leaves Schloss Lützen, where the Wallensteins are quartered, for a cold and foggy battlefield... on the eve of battle, the evening before the sixth of November 1632.

30YW PLAY FINISHED

At last, I have finished Der Löwe aus Mitternacht! Now all I have to do is wait for Frau Oster to correct my mistakes, which will happen sometime this winter.
In my opinion, this is a milestone in my career... being my first large work in Goethe's language. It is a couch/chair drama, meant to be read instead of staged.
If I had to choose some highlights from the play, I would pick these:
PROLOGUE: Written in free verse and narrated, it explains the backstory of it all: Charles V and Luther, Jesuits and electors, Tilly and Wallenstein... to subsequently segue into Scene One, in which Wallenstein is fired (see below).
SCENE 1 (THE REICHSTAG): Wallenstein is fired by the Kaiser. But he doesn't give up. Kind of gives an idea of what this Wallenstein guy is actually like...
SCENE 4 (BREITENFELD): When Tilly tries to reunite his fleeing ranks, he is wounded by enemy officers, who call out the old Walloon's war crimes. The result is sheer badassery on the Protestant side:
Swedish Cavalry Captain (knocks Tilly in the head!): This is for Heidelberg!
Swedish Lieutenant (stabs Tilly in the side): And that's for Magdeburg!
SCENE 6 (ACROSS THE LECH):  The Protestants are throwing a new bridge across the confluence using a smokescreen (clever and well done, Gustavus!). The Catholics are desperate. This is Jean de Tilly's last stand. Like at Breitenfeld, he appears as a cornered rattler ready to strike. As his ranks falter, he says his customary Hail Mary (in Latin!), he crosses himself, he seizes a League flag, and he throws himself headlong into the fray. However, this display of badassery is rather short-lived...
SCENE 7 (RECALLED): If Tilly was the antagonist in Act I, Wallenstein takes the veteran's place in Act II. You thought he was corrupt, mad as a hatter, et cetera. This scene takes place at Friedland, and it shows the parvenu getting mad at the conditions the Kaiser offers:
Wallenstein: [···] Should I be second to that brat of an archduke? And should I play by the rules? That can't be for real!
Thus he writes a letter to the Hofburg, to receive carte blanche. And you bet the Kaiser grants him such a request. Now Wallenstein plus carte blanche equals the fact that whatever may happen...
SCENE 8 (THE ALTE VESTE): Gustavus vs. Wallenstein. The Northern Lion meets his match. Within the fort, Wallenstein sets a trap: to reconquer Leipzig and thus attract the Swedes to get to Saxony in late November. Cue the Swedes amazed upon finding the Alte Feste empty! And cue Gustavus, defeated for the first time in his life, asking for a rematch!
SCENE 9 (THE PARADE): The last farewell to Eleanor. Quite an emotive scene. She is all worried and weeping, as he dries up her tears. I will post the scene later on for you to enjoy and get teary-eyed!
SCENE 10 (LÜTZEN):  Yes, Gustavus is killed in that battle, lost in the fog and riding to his men's aid. But the way I describe it is graphic, violent, beyond comparison.
A Croatian officer, who follows the King closely on horseback: Long time have I sought you! (He shoots Gustavus in the back. The bullet shatters his right shoulder blade, and then punctures his lung. Gustavus falls unconscious off his steed, to be stabbed thrice by Croatians in the chest and back, and receive three shots to the same region. The first wound in his back brings searing chest pain. The Croatians take his clothes, weapons, and accessories as spoils of war, leaving the Swedish ruler in a bloodstained shirt.)
The Croatian officer: Now he's suffered enough. Let me give him the mercy shot! (He shoots Gustavus in the nape of the neck).
The news of the King's death spreads across the battlefield like wildfire, amidst gunshots and clanking of steel. Enter Count Pappenheim, the leader of the Catholic cavalry, who wanted to challenge Gustavus to a duel. He learns what has happened to Gustavus from a Swedish officer, who shoots him in the chest. Another punctured lung: he "drowns painfully and slowly in his own blood", in Wallenstein's encampment.
At the end of the day, the sun sets over a swampy plain littered with lifeless bodies: casualties like Gustavus, Pappenheim, and Berthold von Wallenstein (the Generalissimo's only son) as well as unsung officers and privates. "It is cold for the fallen, cold is the fog, but coldest are the hearts of the few survivors. The Protestants have finally won the battle, but they have lost much more than their liege."
SCENE 11 (WEISSENFELS): In a glass case in a parish church, the hero of freedom is mourned for by officers, privates, and a heartbroken Queen Eleanor (perchance the saddest of them all).
Eleanor (Desperate): Oh, Gustavus! Darling! Without you, I'm so alone! I wither, helpless, on my own!
FINALE: In which Queen Christina and Archduke Leopold decide to set right what their fathers have done wrong. And the moral of the story is delivered: to be considerate towards different beliefs and ideologies.