Lady Cecilia Vasa, and destined to win future fame as one of the greatest

heroes of Sweden and the liberator of his native land.



At the age of six the boy was sent to be educated at the court of Sten

Sture, then the administrator and virtual king of Sweden. Here he was not

spoiled by indulgence, his mode of life and his food were alike simple

and homely, and he grew up with a cheerful spirit and a strong body, his

chief pleasure being that of hunting among the rocks and forests with his

companions, all of whom grew to love and admire him.



King Hans, when monarch of Sweden in 1499, on a visit to Sten Sture

noticed the boy playing about the hall and was much pleased by his fine

and glowing countenance. Patting him on the head, he said:



"You will certainly be a man in your day, if you live to see it."



He afterwards, thinking of the high descent of the boy and that he might

grow to be a future foe of Denmark, asked Sten Sture to let him take the

lad to Copenhagen and bring him up in his court. The wise Lord Sten

quickly fathomed the king's thoughts and answered that the boy was too

young to be taken from his parents. He soon after sent him to his father,

then in command at Aland.



"The young wolf has slipped out of my net," said King Hans in later

years, when he was told of the splendid development of the boy as he grew

to manhood.



At the age of twenty-four he left the academy at Upsala, where he had

been educated in the arts and sciences, and repaired to the court of Sten

Sture the Younger, where he was soon a general favorite, loved for his

amiable character and admired for his wit and vivacity. At that time the

war by which Christian II. made himself master of Denmark was going on

and young Vasa aided by his courage in winning victory on more than one

hard-fought field.



In 1518, during a negotiation between Sten Sture and Christian, then in

sore straits in his fleet, the latter agreed to go ashore to confer with

the Swedish leader if six gentlemen were sent on board his fleet as

hostages. This was done, but before the conference took place a favorable

change of wind changed the treacherous king's intention and he sailed off

for Denmark with his hostages, all of whom were imprisoned and held to

secure the neutrality of their relatives in Sweden.



Among these captives was young Gustavus Vasa, who, thus perfidiously

taken, was cruelly confined. Finally, at the request of Herr Erik Baner,

a distant relative of the Vasas, the young man was set free, Baner

binding himself to pay a heavy penalty in money if he permitted him to

escape. Thus it was that Vasa found a new home at Kalloe Castle, in

Jutland, where his deliverer lived, and where he was well treated and

given much freedom.



"I shall not cause you to be strictly guarded nor put you in

confinement," said good old Baner. "You shall eat at my table and go

where you please, if you faithfully promise not to make your escape or

journey anywhere without letting me know."



To this the young man bound himself verbally and by writing, and was

given liberty by his generous warder to go where he pleased within six

miles of Kalloe. At first he was always accompanied by an attendant, but

as he won the old man's love and confidence he was suffered to go alone.



But he could not forget the perfidy by which he had been made prisoner,

and in 1519, when King Christian was preparing a great expedition against

Sweden, the boasts of the young Danish nobles of what they proposed to do

chafed his proud soul. Day and night his bitterness of spirit grew, and

finally, as the time came for the expedition to set sail, he could bear

it no longer but resolved to break his parole and escape to his native

land.



It was in the summer of 1579 that he set out, having dressed himself in

peasant clothing. Starting in the early morning and avoiding the open

roads, he made his way by by-paths, and at noon of the following day

reached the town of Flensburg, where he fortunately met some Saxon

traders driving a herd of cattle from Jutland to Germany. He joined

these, and on September 30 reached the free town of Luebeck. Here the

authorities gave him permission to remain, with a warrant for his

personal safety while in the town.



Meanwhile Sir Erik Baner had been wrathfully seeking him, and appeared in

Luebeck shortly after he reached there, complaining of his ingratitude for

the good treatment given him, and threatening the senate of Luebeck with

Christian's enmity if they should protect one of his foes.



Gustavus boldly answered that he was no lawful prisoner, but a man seized

by breaking a solemn compact, and therefore that he had the right to set

himself free. As for the six thousand riks-thalers, which Sir Erik had

bound himself to pay, he would return them with interest and gratitude

when he got home.



"I trust to this," he concluded, "that I am in a free town, on whose

word, when once given, I should be able to depend."



This appeal won his case with the senate, and Sir Erik was obliged to

return without his ward.



But to make his way to Sweden, then torn and distracted by war, and the

seas held by hostile craft, was no easy matter and he was forced to

remain eight months in Luebeck while his country was being rapidly subdued

by its invaders. They were not idle months, for Gustavus learned much

while there of political and industrial economy and the commerce and

institutions of the Hanseatic League and its free towns, knowledge which

became of much service to him in later years. In the end he succeeded in

making his way to Sweden in a small trading vessel, and on the 31st of

May, 1520, landed secretly on its shores, with nothing but his sword and

his courage to sustain him against an enemy who had, step by step,

subjugated nearly the whole land.





Of the cities, only Stockholm and Calmar remained in the hands of the

Swedes, and the latter, in which he had landed, seemed full of cowards

and traitors. The place was not safe for a declared patriot, and he left

it, making his way up the country. Here he learned with indignation how

envy, avarice, and private feuds had induced many Swedes to betray one

another to the enemy, and his efforts to exhort the people to unity and

resistance proved vain. Most of them were weary of the war, and Christian

had won over many of the peasants.



"He is a gracious master to us," they said, "and as long as we obey the

king neither salt nor herring will fail us."



When Gustavus sought to win them over to more patriotic views they became

angry and threatening, and in the end they assailed him with arrows and

lances, so that he was obliged to make his escape. His position, indeed,

became so critical that he was forced to disguise himself and proceed

through forests and unsettled lands. Finally he reached the manor-house

in which resided his sister Margaret and her husband, Sir Joachim Brahe.



They received him with the highest demonstrations of joy, as they had

feared that they would never set eyes on him again; but their delight in

his presence was turned into consternation when they learned that he was

there with the purpose of seeking to foment an insurrection against

Christian, who had then made himself complete master of Sweden and was on

the point of being crowned king.



Joachim Brahe and his wife were at that time preparing to attend

Christian's coronation at Stockholm, and were deeply disturbed by what

seemed to them the mad purpose of the young patriot. Joachim offered to

do his utmost to reconcile Gustavus to the king, and Margaret threw

herself in tears and distress on his neck, beseeching him to desist from

an undertaking which she felt sure would bring death to him and ruin to

his whole family.



But Gustavus was not to be persuaded, and on the other hand he warned

Joachim against trusting himself in Christian's hands, speaking of him as

a base wretch whom no one could trust. Joachim proved equally hard to

move, and the three soon parted, Joachim and his wife for

Stockholm--where death awaited him at the hands of the traitor king--and

Gustavus for a place of concealment where he could foment his plans.

During this interval he met the old archbishop, Jacob Ulfsson, who

earnestly advised him to go to Stockholm and warmly promised to plead his

cause with the king. But the fugitive knew Christian far better than the

aged churchman and had no idea of putting his head within the wolfs jaws.

Little did the good archbishop dream of the terrible tragedy that was

even then taking place in Stockholm.



The news of it came to Gustavus in this way. One day while out hunting in

the vicinity of his hiding-place, he unexpectedly met the faithful old

steward of his brother-in-law Joachim, who was so choked with grief on

seeing him that he found it impossible to speak and could answer the

young lord's question only with tears and gestures. Finally he succeeded

in telling the fearful tale of that bloody day at Stockholm, the death

under the executioner's sword of the father and brother-in-law of the

horror-stricken listener, the imprisonment of his mother and sisters, and

the fact that he would soon become a hunted fugitive, a high price having

been set upon his head.



Who can describe the bitter grief of the son and brother at these

terrible tidings, the hot wrath of the patriot, the indignation of a true

and honest heart! On that fatal day the young fugitive had lost all he

loved and cherished and was made a hunted, homeless, and almost penniless

outlaw. But his courage did not fail him, he could foresee the

indignation of the people at the dastardly act, and he determined to

venture liberty and life against the ruthless tyrant.



A series of striking adventures awaited him, which it needed his utmost

resolution to endure. He was then concealed at Raefsnaes, one of his

paternal estates, but felt it necessary at once to seek a safer refuge,

and collecting what gold and silver he could, he set out with a single

servant for Dalarna. They had not gone far before they reached the ferry

at Kolsund, which he crossed, leaving his man to follow. But the fellow,

who had no faith in his master's project, took the opportunity to mount

his horse and flee, taking with him the gold and jewels which had been

entrusted to his care.



Seeing the act of treachery, Gustavus in all haste recrossed the ferry,

and pursued the runaway so hotly that he leaped from his horse in alarm

and hid himself in the woods. Recovering the horse and its valuable

burden, the fugitive pursued his course, paying no further heed to the

treacherous servant.



It was late in November when Gustavus reached Dalarna. He was now

completely disguised, having exchanged his ordinary dress for that of a

peasant, cutting his hair round, wearing the round hat and short baize

jacket of the countrymen, and carrying an axe on his shoulder in the

fashion of peasant-lads seeking work. No one would have dreamed of his

being the sole heir of the great house of the Vasas.



His first service was with a rich miner named Anders Persson, in whose

barn he threshed grain for several days. But his fellow threshers soon

saw that he was not accustomed to the work and his general manner did not

seem that of a common farm-hand, while one of the women caught the

glimpse of a silk collar under his coarse jacket. These suspicious

circumstances were told to the miner, who sent for Gustavus and quickly

recognized him, for he had often seen him in former days at Upsala.



Anders received him hospitably, but when he heard from him of the

Stockholm massacre and his aid was requested in the liberation of the

country, he grew alarmed. Fearing to entertain so dangerous a guest, he

advised him to go farther north and to change his place of abode

frequently.



Accepting this advice, Gustavus set out for Ornaes, but on his way, while

crossing a newly frozen stream, the thin ice broke under him and he was

plunged into the chilling water. Light and active, he soon got out again,

drying his clothes and passing the night at the house of the ferryman.



Reaching Ornaes the next day, he went to the house of a former friend, but

who now, unknown to him, had become connected by marriage with the Danes

and was devoted to the interests of the new king. It was a critical

situation for the friendless fugitive. His treacherous host craftily

welcomed him and pretended to approve his purpose, in which he offered to

assist him and to seek adherents to his cause among his neighbors.



The guest was conducted to a garret at the top of the house and here,

weary from his wanderings and gratified at having found a sympathizing

friend, he lay confidingly down and was soon lost in slumber. Meanwhile

Arendt, the treacherous host, sought a neighbor, Mans Nilsson, whom he

told of the rich prize he had found and asked his aid in capturing him

and gaining the high reward offered for him by the king. He was mistaken

in his man. Mans hated treachery. But Arendt found others who were less

scrupulous and in the early morning returned to his home heading twenty

men, collected to aid him in the capture of his unsuspecting guest. To

his utter surprise and dismay, on entering the garret to which Gustavus

had been led he was nowhere to be found. He had unaccountably

disappeared, and search as they could no trace of the fugitive was

forthcoming.



There was a woman concerned in this strange escape, which had happened

thus. Barbara, Arendt's wife, though Danish in her sympathies, had a

warm, romantic interest in Gustavus Vasa, and when she saw her husband,

on his return from his visit to Mans Nilsson, drive past the house and in

the direction of the house of the Danish steward, she suspected him of

treachery and determined to save their too-confiding guest.



Ordering Jacob, one of her men, to harness a sledge with all haste and

secrecy and keep it in waiting behind the building, she sought the

garret, woke Gustavus, and told him of his peril and of her desire to

save him. Not venturing to bring him down into the house, she opened the

window, and though it was eighteen feet from the ground, she aided him in

his descent with a long towel, such as were then in common use. Gustavus

then sprang into the sledge and was driven briskly off.



Arendt, when he learned of how his expected victim had fled, was

furiously angry with his wife, and, as we are told, never forgave her and

refused ever to set eyes on her again.



This was the most extreme danger that the fugitive patriot ever passed

through, and at that interval his hope of freeing his country from the

yoke of the foreigner seemed the sheerest madness. But other perils lay

before him and only vigilance and good fortune saved him more than once

from death or capture. Surrounded by foes and with scarce a friend who

dared aid him in the whole district, his final escape seemed impossible.



The friendly Barbara had advised him to seek Herr Jon, the priest of

Svaerdsjoe, and his driver took the road over the frozen Lake Runn, they

ascending its banks in the smoke coming down from the Fahun copper mines,

and about sunrise reaching a village on the northeast end of the lake.

Jacob was unacquainted with the country beyond this point and Gustavus

went to a house to inquire the way. As he was on the point of entering

he saw within a miner, Nils Haussen, whom he knew to be a Danish partisan

and who would have recognized him at sight. Quickly and without being

seen, he turned behind the door and went towards another village beyond.

Here he met a friendly smelter who agreed to guide him on the way. When

they parted Gustavus gave him a silver dagger, saying gratefully:



"If God helps me, seek me, and I will richly repay you for your aid."



As night came on he sought quarters in a road-side cottage, and as he sat

before the fire in the evening the good-wife said to him:



"Young man, make me some pudding skewers, since you have nothing else to

do."



Gustavus laughingly replied that he would be glad to do so if he only

knew how. This adventure has an interesting resemblance to that of King

Alfred, when, hidden from the Danes in the swine-herd's hut, he let the

good woman's cakes burn on the fire.



Reaching the parsonage of Herr Jon on the following day, he first went to

the barn and helped the laborers to thresh, at the same time asking them

what side their master took. Learning that he was no friend of the Danes,

he made himself known to him and was graciously received, staying with

him for three days.



But this place soon became unsafe. One day Herr Jon's housekeeper entered

a room where Gustavus was washing, the priest standing by, towel in

hand.



"Why are you holding the towel for this common fellow?" she asked.



"That is none of your affairs," said the priest.



But fearing that the woman would talk, he thought it best for his guest

to seek a safer retreat, and sent him to Swen Elfsson, gamekeeper for the

crown, who lived not far away.



Meanwhile the Danish steward, who had been told by the treacherous Arendt

of the character of his guest, had his agents out in search of the

fugitive and some of them entered the cottage of the gamekeeper. At that

moment the good-wife was about putting her bread in the fire, and

Gustavus was standing by the hearth in his peasant's dress, warming

himself. The men who entered inquired for the fugitive, but before

answering the woman raised her bread shovel and struck Gustavus hastily

on the back, exclaiming:



"What are you doing here gaping at strangers? Have you never seen a man

before? Pack yourself off to the barn and go on with your threshing."



Never dreaming that the man who had been so angrily treated by a

peasant's wife could be the young lord they sought, the steward's

messengers left the house to continue their search elsewhere.



But the incident warned the gamekeeper that his guest was not safe

anywhere in that vicinity, and to get him away unobserved he hid him in a

large load of hay and drove off towards the forest. On the way some of

the Danish scouts were met, and these, having some suspicion of Swen,

began poking their lances through the hay. One of these wounded Gustavus

in the leg, but he lay silent and motionless and the scouts soon went

their way.



But the cut on the concealed man's leg bled so freely that blood soon

began to run from the cart and tinge the snow. Seeing this, Swen, fearing

that the trail of blood might betray him, opened his knife and thrust it

into the leg of his horse, so that if any one should perceive the blood

stains he could assign this as their cause.



He finally delivered his charge to the care of some loyal gamekeepers on

the edge of the forest; but these, not considering their houses safe as

hiding-places, took him into the forest, where he lay hidden for three

days under a great fallen fir tree, they bringing him food and drink.

Finding even this place insecure, he went deeper into the woods and

sought shelter under a lofty fir tree which stood on a hill in the midst

of a marsh. The place has ever since been called "The King's Height."



Finally the effort of the Danish agents to find him relaxed and his

faithful friends conducted him through the vast forests to Raettwik's

Church, at the eastern end of the great Lake Silja.



His perils were yet by no means at an end. He spoke of his purpose at

this place to an assembly of the peasants and was pleased to find that

they listened to him with willing ears. Having thus sown his first seed

in favorable soil, he proceeded to Mora on the northern end of the lake,

where the priest received him in a friendly manner. But he was being

sought by the Danes in that district and the priest did not dare to hide

him in his own house, but committed him to the care of a peasant named

Tomte Mattes. As the search was becoming active he was concealed in a

vaulted cellar, reached by a trap-door in the floor.



He had not been long there when the Danish scouts, who were searching the

whole district, reached the peasant's house, where they found his wife in

the midst of her brewing of Christmas ale. As they entered, the shrewd

woman turned a great tub over the trap-door, so that they did not

perceive it, and thus for the third time the future king of Sweden owed

his liberty and life to a woman's wit.



Shortly after that, at one of the Christmas festivals, as the men of Mora

were leaving the church, Gustavus called them to him where he stood on a

low mound beside the churchyard and addressed them in earnest tones,

while they gazed with deep sympathy on the manly form of the young noble

of whose sufferings and those of his family they were well aware.



He spoke of the risk to his life that he ran in venturing to speak to

them at all, but said that his unhappy country was dearer to him than

life. He pointed out the persecution which Sweden had formerly endured

from Danish kings, and of how they had robbed the country of its wealth.



"The same times and the same misfortunes have now returned," he said.

"Our land swims, so to say, in our own blood. Many hundred Swedish men

have been made to suffer a disgraceful and unmerited death. Our bishops

and senators have been cruelly murdered. I myself have lost father and

brother-in-law," he continued, his eyes streaming with tears, "and the

blood of all these martyrs cries for redress and retribution on the

tyrant."



The men of Dalarna, he said, had long been noted for their courage when

their land was in danger. They were renowned for this in history, and all

Sweden looked upon them as the firmest defenders of its liberties.



"I will willingly join with you for our land's deliverance," he

concluded, "and spare neither my blood nor my sword, for these are all

the tyrant has left me to use in your cause."



Many of the Dalmen heard him with cries of vengeance, but the most of

them stood in doubt. They did not know Gustavus personally and had heard

that Christian was cruel only to the great, but was kind and generous to

the peasantry. They could not yet make up their minds what to do, and

begged him to seek safer quarters for himself, since he was being

everywhere diligently sought by his pursuers.



In fact, his peril continued extreme and for some days he was forced to

lie hidden under Morkarlely Bridge, near Mora Church, though it was in

the dead of a Swedish winter. He was able at length to resume his

journey, but it was with an almost despairing heart, for he could see no

hope either for himself or for his country. His led way over mountains

and through desolate valleys, his nights being spent in wayside sheds

which had been built for the shelter of travellers. On he went, through

forests filled with snow and along the side of mountain torrents, and

finally came within view of the lofty mountains beyond which lay the

sister kingdom of Norway.



Never had patriot more reason to be disheartened than the unhappy and

hunted fugitive, never had the hope of liberating an oppressed country

seemed darker, and the fugitive would have been justified in abandoning

his native land and seeking a refuge in the bleak hills of Norway. Yet

the adage has often held good that it is the darkest hour before the dawn

of day, and so it was to prove in his case. While he waited in that

desolate quarter to which he had been driven, events were shaping

themselves in his favor and the first rising took place against the

Danes.



The stirring speech of the young noble at Mora Church had not been made

in vain. Many of those who heard it had been strongly taken by his

manliness and his powerful language, and, strangely, the most deeply

impressed of all was Rasmas Jute, a Dane who had served the Stures and

was now settled in Dalarna.



Hearing that a Danish steward had come to that quarter to seek the

fugitive and was now at the house of the sergeant of Mora parish, he

armed himself and his servants and fell on the steward unawares, the

first to take arms for Gustavus being thus a man of Danish birth. Soon

afterwards a troop of Danish horsemen, a full hundred in number, was

seen marching over the frozen surface of Lake Silja. So numerous a body

of soldiers was unusual in those parts, and suspecting that they were in

search of Gustavus, and might do something to their own injury, the

peasants began ringing the church bells, the usual summons to arms.



The wind carried the sound far to the northward, and on hearing the

warning peal the peasantry seized their arms and bodies of them were soon

visible hasting down the hills towards Mora. The Danish troopers, on

seeing this multitude of armed men, shut themselves in the priest's

house. Here they were attacked by the furious Dalmen, who broke open the

doors and rushed in. The terrified Danes now fled to the church and took

refuge in its steeple, whither they were quickly followed. Only by

dejected appeals and a promise not to injure Gustavus Vasa did they

succeed in escaping from the tower, and the Dalmen, thinking that some of

them might remain concealed in the narrow spire, shot their arrows at it

from every side. For more than a hundred years after some of these arrows

remained sticking in the old wooden spire.



Dalarna being looked upon as a centre of Swedish patriotism, a number of

the persecuted noblemen took refuge there, and those confirmed all that

Gustavus had told the people. And when Lars Olssen, an old warrior well

known to them, arrived and told them of the gallows which Christian had

erected, of the new taxes he had laid on the peasantry, and of the report

that he had threatened to cut a hand and a foot off each peasant, with

other tales true and false, they were deeply stirred. When Lars learned

that Gustavus had been there and what had passed, he reproached them for

their folly in not supporting him.



"Good men," he said, "I know that gentleman well, and tell you that if

yourselves and all the people of the country are not to be oppressed and

even exterminated Gustavus Vasa is the only one who has sense and

knowledge enough to lead us and lay hand to so great a work."



While they were talking another fugitive came from the forest, who

confirmed all that Lars had said and gave them a full account of the

blood-bath at Stockholm and of how the body of Sten Sture, their beloved

leader, had been torn from the grave and dishonored.



These stories filled their hearers with horror, terror, and fury; war and

bloody retribution was their only cry; their hearts were filled with

remorse that they had let Gustavus, their country's chief hope, depart

unaided. Two of them, the fleetest snow-skaters of the region, were

chosen to follow him and bring him back, and off they went through the

forests, following his track, and at length finding him at Saelen, the

last village in that section, and immediately at the foot of the lofty

Norwegian mountains. A few words sufficed to tell him of the great change

of feeling that had taken place, and with heart-felt joy Gustavus

accompanied them back, to begin at length the great work of freeing his

native land.