Abigail's Cousin

by Ron Pearse

  Parker murmured: "I wonder what happened to the villagers." The duke continued with his commentary:

  "There's my Lord Cutts, in the thick of it."

  "Living up to his nickname, no doubt, sir."

  "The Salamander. Gad, he hacks to right and left. It makes no difference, man or wood. It's either blood or splinters. It's mostly wood but he is so fierce in his onslaught that they recoil at his approach. I don't wonder at the French, they're only mortal. Cutts is a truly awesome sight."

  "We need a few more salamanders, sir. Have we taken any farmhouses?"

  The duke continued: "My lord is ordering the men inside so he must have but it's a slow business as each house must be assaulted one by one. It's a bloody business."

  "Sir, look!" screamed Parker, "I can see cavalry approaching from behind the village!"

  The duke aimed his glass: "You're right Parker. Well spotted. See how the French are desperately trying to remove their own obstacles to allow their cavalry through. Some can't wait and are leaping the obstacles and landing on top of them."

  "Has Lord Cutts seen them yet, my lord?" asked a frantic Parker frustrated at his powerlessness at this distance to do anything. The duke lowered his glass:

  "My lord Cutts has signalled the Bluecoats. They're running at the double. Can you hear that thunder of hooves?"

  He re-sighted his glass: "Hauptmann Frick is lining up the Bluecoats. He's a cool devil. His sword is raised. Wait for it. Wait for it. Thunder drowns all other sounds. It's down." Moments later they hear a crackled of musketry, then seconds later there's a second volley. Now he hears the whinnying of horses and can only imagine the slaughter as musket balls strike both man and beast. Then there's a third fusillade of fire.

  "Gad!" says Marlborough, "It's slaughter" and momentarily puts down the glass but then, as though mesmerised by the bloody event happening remotely from them, like a drug he wants more of, he lifts it again to his eye, adding excitedly: "The Bluecoats are running with fixed bayonets. Some are falling. The French must be firing at them from the palisades."

  Parker's thoughts are still with the Bluecoats’ rate of fire and as if he has not heard the duke's latest commentary, says: "Their rate of firing, my lord. That did the trick. I didn't know the Hessians had the new gun."

  The duke had put down his glass. "There's no more to see. At the sight of those bayonets, the French turned and ran." And then as if he had not heard Parker, asked: "You were saying Parker?"

  "The Bluecoats’ rate of firing, my lord." replied his aide to which the duke answered: "Cadogan had a thousand wheellocks left over. I gave them to the Prince. It was a good investment."

  The duke put the glass to his eye again and Parker heard his distressed voice: "Poor Frick! It seems a French ball brought him down."

  "My lord!" It was Parker. He was pointing to their right and the duke trained his glass upon a forested area where a large number of French escadrons were forming up. Marlborough observed them for a moment, and lowered his glass.

  "What do you think, Parker?" he asked his aide who did not answer but scanned the more distant area of the Nebel where more of Churchill's forces were crossing the Nebel. He said in an urgent tone:

  "I can see no infantry, sir, to protect them once they've crossed." And as if in answer to his words both men heard the awful thunder of hooves as the French escadrons launched themselves recklessly down the bluffs. The cavalry crossing the Nebel seemed completely oblivious of the French.

  Marlborough looked towards Blenheim where Lord Orkney and Lord Cutts were fully engaged. No help from that quarter. Helplessly he trained his eye on the ridge where a group of senior French officers were observing their own cavalry. The duke recognised the comte de Merode-Westerloo.

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  The comte turns to his commander-in-chief: "Voyez monsieur, plus escadrons anglaises essaient de traverser le fleuve," getting the reply from le marechal: "Je les ai vu il y a longtemps." Marshal Tallard points and says:

  "If you look to your right you can see our response."

  The comte does so excitedly shouting: "Monsieur l'Electeur has also seen it. What do you think, your grace?"

  The Elector responds: "It seems the English cannot escape."

  As the senior officers watch the drama unfold below which the duke of Marlborough had also seen developing without being able to help, Tallard asks his Bavarian colleague: "How is the situation in Oberglau, monsieur?"

  "I came away for some excitement. His Excellency Prince Eugene has made three attacks which we have repulsed with heavy losses on his side. Our front is rock-firm."

  More French escadrons plunge down the bluffs to engage the English and Danish cavalry at the Nebel, and some have even, somewhat rashly, plunged into the river to cross it and take their enemy in the rear, but they are experiencing great difficulty finding purchase for the ground on either bank is a morass, and to the horror of the French and Bavarian commanders, the French horsemen are falling down unable to rise whereas the allied riders direct their horses to where there is firmer ground. Cadogan's preparations are paying a dividend.

  The comte suddenly shouts abruptly to Tallard: "See, monsieur, on the far left. The English have a causeway further along and are wheeling behind the gens-d'armes who cannot escape the bog. They are hemmed in. It's a massacre."

  The Elector is also stunned: "The English are on firm ground while our horses flounder. How can this be?"

  There are not only English but a large Danish contingent and both take advantage of their knowledge denied the French attackers of where to lead their horses without sinking into the morass in which the French are floundering. There is little action as the allied cavalrymen simply watch the struggles of their enemies. Many of the French hussars are taken prisoner. Tallard's extra escadrons which on firm ground might have annihilated the Danish and English retreat thanking their luck that they saw the danger before it was too late.

  Tallard turned to the Elector: "Shall we ride over to Oberglau, monsieur? You can show me how things should be done." Then turning to the comte observed: "The English set you a trap, monsieur le comte, and you fell right into it. More easy victories like that we can ill afford."

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  Colonel Cadogan, the duke's quartermaster, had already, through his laying out of fascines and fodder made the potentially sodden ground viable for the cavalry, and was also now engaged in another pioneering task, that of clearing away dead horses which made the terrain impossible for allied cavalry and Marlborough was close by observing his men labour to carry out his orders, when beneath a dead horse a human corpse was discovered. It proved to be a French gens-d'armes which gave Marlborough an idea and he had dispatched Captain Parker to Lord Orkney.

  At the sight of two horsemen galloping towards him, he spotted his own aide and speculated that Orkney had reacted favourably to his idea. As the two riders approached and reined their mounts, one spoke to the duke:

  "Your grace!" to which the duke returned greeting and further outlined his plan: "Captain Masham. Observe this unfortunate rifleman. French and English dragoons look much the same, would you agree?"

  Masham looked at the dead soldier and more particularly at his uniform dismounting to check precisely, whereupon Marlborough observed:

  As you see captain; different coats, red with blue cuffs, but identical pantaloons. Also, the bonnet is different. Pray, observe where I point."

  Masham directed the glass towards Blentheim while the duke remarked: "I want to surround the village, but I need to know how the perimeter is defended. Que pensez-vous?"

  In answer Masham started to strip off his long military coat whereupon Parker did the same to the corpse, handing the bloodstained garment to Masham, who, unsmiling put it on. Then took the Frenchman's bonnet and replaced his own. Masham turned to the duke:

  "Je l'essayerai monsieur. Ou reviendrai-je a rapport
er. Ici?"

  In answer, the duke said: "Oui, monsieur le lieutenant, ici. Bonne chance!"

  Masham was soon lost to view as the battle for Blentheim was still raging with Lord Cutts leading his cavalry in vain, almost vainglorious attempts to capture more houses but it was a slow business and costly in men and having conferred with the duke, believed the best way to reduce the village was to surround it with batteries and pound away. But what was the total perimeter. This was Masham's mission. Meanwhile Cutts was losing a large number of his men considering the situation so bad that he rode over in person to consult the duke who turned to Parker:

  "Scour the rear, captain, I beg you. Any man who can handle a musket is desperately needed: Wagon drivers, cooks, orderlies. If you see my lord Churchill, ask him if he can spare a platoon. Off with you!"

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  The village of Oberglau had not been fortified in the manner of Blentheim partly because it possessed natural defensive features such as perimeter walls built by the inhabitants to prevent animals from invading their gardens and the Bavarians esconced behind these stone walls were safe from attack by cavalry and their positions were near impregnable to musketeers. The Prince therefore had one route into the village and after three attacks had failed to make much impression. When the Elector intimated leaving the village for a while his French cavalry commander le marechal Marsin raised no objection.

  Marsin was bored. His cavalry had not seen action as Prince Eugene's attacks had been successfully fended off by the Bavarian infantry. As far as he was concerned the battle was already won though not knowing what was happening on the right flank, he was happy to observe the return of the Elector who might put him in the picture and was pleasantly surprised to see him accompanied by his own esteemed commander, le marechal Talllard and spurred his mount to greet the two men. He had good news for him:

  "We have just beaten off the third attack from the Prince. He must be getting rather desperate. I shouldn't be surprised were he to call for help from le Malbrouk."

  No sooner had he spoken when they all hear a rider approaching at a gallop, who loses no time in giving his message:

  "Monsieur le marechal! There are more escadrons on the way in support of the Prince," and immediately Tallard aims his glass in the direction indicated. He tells his fellow marshal: "They bear the standard of the Prince Holstein-Beck. And there are more crossing the Nebel."

  Marsin pleads with Tallard: "Allow me monsieur to attack those crossing at the river." But Tallard advises him he will soon have action closer to home whereupon Marsin excuses himself and rides into the village calling for Blainville, his aide-de-camp, who is soon addressing him.

  "I have a job for our Irishmen, Blainville. Look!" He hands him his glass and Blainville spots the cavalry crossing which Marsin has been denied permission to attack. Blainville says: "What are your orders, monsieur!"

  "Fetch Fitzgerald, hurry!"

  He heard the name pass from mouth to mouth in the village until a few minutes later, he saw a rider approach.

  "Fitzgerald!" The rider assented and Blainville told him: "Marshal Marsin's compliments, captain. He wants your Wild Geese to mount an attack at the river where the English are now trying to cross to bring up support for Prince Eugene."

  Blainville pointed far off beyond the bluff and Fitzgerald screwed his eyes against the sun but, apart from the movement of animals and men could see little of the uniform they wore.

  "They are English!" Fitzgerald demanded.

  "Yes, they're all English," Blainville lied and without further talk Fitzgerald wheeled his horse yelling: "Lads, come on! The English are trying to cross the Nebel. It's the chance you've been waiting for. Come on now!"

  There was a rush towards him from all sides, horses and men jostling in an undisciplined manner and when Fitzgerald saw he had a good crowd he led the way from the village towards the bluff plunging down the steep sides and were soon out of sight disappearing below the edge of the cliff and for moments all were lost to sight.

  Then Blainville saw Fitzgerald reappear from below the bluff turning and waving his men to follow, and Blainville saw he had stopped about three hundred yards away from the river urging his foot to come forward and form up. Blainville could imagine what he was saying having listened to Fitzgerald's rantings in Oberglau. Most of it washed over him but monsieur le marechal had kindly given him the gist of his utterances.

  Le marechal had learned English at school and later had been posted to the Court of St James when the restored English King Charles needed French money. Louis had placed him there as a spy and go-between and came to learn of the Irish problem. He could understand their hatred of the English, yet would the French have been any better? Nonetheless there had been atrocities, both on the Irish and English side, and Fitzgerald's rallying cry would stay with him for ever:

  "Remember, Drogheda! No quarter! Death to the English!"

  Tallard's translation echoed in Blainville's head as he watched Fitzgerald harangue his Irish 'Wild Geese' and order them forward, and looked towards the river was astonished to see the red cross of St George. His intelligence was not wholly correct and his lie had come true.

  The Irishmen had also seen it and they seemed to go berserk rushing forward and paying no heed to Fitzgerald until about fifty yards from the first of the foot and horse at the Nebel. Fitzgerald ordered them to halt, aim and fire, and Blainville saw there were many casualties, both of horses and men.

  Fitzgerald shouted to his men: "Reload! Kill all the English bastards." While his men were reloading which meant cleaning the barrel, dropping in the charge and ball, blowing the chamber to blow away black powder, dusting the chamber with new powder, cocking the weapon and then waiting for their slower comrades to finish.

  Marshal Marsin now rode up to Blainville and gave a running commentary of the gist of the Fitzgerald harangue:"Don't let a single mother-fucker survive. Cut their hearts out. Revenge the Boyne." He added in a malicious voice: "If Fitzgerald had spent more time training his men, they might have sent more of the English into the fires of the Inferno."

  But one person was pleased for the commander-in-chief himself rode up, shouting: "Excellent, excellent monsieur le marquis. I have dispatched Zurlauben's escadrons in support of the Irish. There is Colonel Fouchard waving. Away they go!"

  Blainville suddenly espies a rider galloping towards them from the left but it's not for them. He turns off to his left. Tallard speculates:

  "No doubt it’s from le Malbrouk. Rescue my poor army being massacred."

  Marshal Marsin yells flattering words to Tallard: "He'll be too late. Colonel Fouchard's dragoons are giving the Holsteiners a drubbing."

  Blainville reports: "Even so, the Prince has detached some of his cuirassiers. About a hundred, I think. What say you, le marechal?"

  There was no answer from either marechal as Tallard's glass was pointing down the valley. He points and says to his fellow marechal:

  "D'you see! There is le Malbrouk himself. That's his white horse. We must be threatening to breach his centre."

  "Indeed, monsieur. You're right, le grand duc soi-meme."

  Tallard observed: "It's now a straight fight between cavalry. Whoever wins here will win the day."

  Blainville begs Marsin to borrow his glass and he hands it to the marquis who studies the position now a hundred paces in width and as broad but with the Nebel behind the allies which perhaps gives them the edge for they fight desperately knowing retreat is impossible. There is no sign of Fitzgerald or his men. Evidently they have been caught up in the general melee. Then he is diverted by another galloping rider who joins the rider of the white charger and wonders what he is saying before handing the glass back to Marsin with a curt: "Merci bien, monsieur!"

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  It is Captain Parker who has ridden up to the duke on the white charger commenting: "Fugger's making hi
mself felt, sir. Marsin's dragoons are no match for Fugger's cuirassiers. Some of them are getting out of the fray and riding back up the hill which is too steep for a horse anyway."

  "That's the Irish for you, Parker." Commented the duke acidly, "It's not their fight. They're here to kill Englishmen but they're just a badly trained rabble. In fact, they might well have handed me victory. Their sortie was ill-timed and called in reserves they don't have. I must thank the Prince for his help. It has been invaluable."

  Parker watched the Irish horsemen struggle up the bluff they had careered down just a few moments before baffled why they could not make it and Parker was about to make a scathing comment when he noticed the duke riding towards a solitary horseman and heard the duke's words:

  "You are in error, Mister Hill; the enemy is that way," pointing with his baton to the melee now breaking up as more beaten Irish and Bavarians withdraw and gallop away. The duke tells Lieutenant Hill: "You have nothing to do but face this way and the day is yours."

  Parker watches as Hill points to his torn sleeve but does not hear what he says because another voice intrudes:

  "Message from my Lord Cutts, captain. Says he's spared a few of his men to join Captain Masham's irregulars."

  Parker is rejoined by the duke who puts his glass to his right eye and points towards Blentheim and says to his aide: "We're too far away. Let's gallop. You too lieutenant. The three horses break into a sustained gallop which Marlborough's charger enjoys as until now he has cantered, chafing at the bit. Now the duke puts distance between himself and the other two and when Blentheim comes back into view, or rather the thick pall of smoke hanging over the village, he reins in.