And standing a little by himself, looking deeply embarrassed, was a captain of the field artillery, who had no claim to nobility at all, but who knew more than any man in Erzberg how to get the best from an eight-pounder.
Who had called them here? Not Balcke. Balcke might have called the artilleryman to a conference, but he would never have included the Fapps colonel if he could have helped it. Nevertheless someone had chosen them all. Someone had gone down the lists of officers with a hard, cold eye, hunting through the layers of waste and corruption for those on whom the system rested. Wéry could almost hear a passionless voice, saying 'Him . . . Not him, he's a fool . . . So is he. We'll have the Major. Yes, and make sure Wéry is there . . .' He could guess, too, who it had been: Bergesrode, the black-clad priest who was first secretary to the Prince.
And each had had the same message. The north-east bastion at five o'clock. And make it seem by chance.
'No good, no good,' clucked Baron Altmantz, prodding with his fingers at the wood of one of the cannon's wheels. 'One shot, and it will go, you see.'
'Stick to your horse-parades, and let a man do his job,' said Knuds. 'We overhaul them every summer.'
'Time for another one, then,' said the Fapps colonel. 'But I'd not like to be the man who fires this, whatever shape the carriage is in.' His fingers stroked the row of Latin numerals that humped vaguely across the barrel above the touch-hole. 'Sixteen thirty-two. The middle of the great war. Probably hasn't been let off since.'
'We test them, too,' growled the citadel commander.
The infantry colonel had moved to peer along the line of the barrel and out over the city.
'With shot?' he said incredulously.
'We drag them round to the west rampart and fire into the hillside. That is, we do it when His Highness's Treasury allows us the powder.'
'A miracle!' said the infantry colonel. But whether he meant the common-sense of the garrison or the occasional generosity of His Highness's Treasury was not clear.
Baron Altmantz got painfully to his feet, dusting his knees. He looked up and saw Wéry.
What, him too? his expression said.
The hussars had been outraged by Wéry's attachment to their unit. Altmantz in particular, who was not only colonel but who had also provided at his own expense the men, horses and uniforms for two full troops of the regiment, felt he should have been consulted. But he had been powerless in the face of His Highness's whim. All he could do was ignore the new officer as far as possible. And whenever this did not work he would affect to be mystified as to why Wéry existed or what services he performed.
He turned his shoulder and joined the collected brains of the army of Erzberg, brooding over the single gun.
'So what's up?' asked Balcke, dropping all pretence. 'Does anyone know? Something to do with you, is it, Wéry?'
'I sent a report up this morning, sir. It may be that.'
'Hah! Thought so.'
'Is that right?' said the Fapps colonel. 'I was sure it would be those Frenchmen who came in yesterday.'
'French?' said Knuds, astounded.
'A gaggle of them arrived in the city yesterday, bold as you please. I'd not like to guess what they wanted, but I doubt if it was good news for us.'
'Surprised they didn't get lynched in the streets.'
'The city's too hot against us to be bothered with a real enemy.'
'And who do you suppose . . .'
'Ah, the army!' said an affable voice behind them.
Wéry turned. They all did.
It was a tall gentleman in a buff coat and white wig. He was heavily built, but given his height he was not fat by the standards of Erzberg society. His face was fleshy, and his nose blunt like an owl's beak. His pale eyes beamed at the gathering as if they were a favourite dish that his cook had whipped unexpectedly out of a hidden kitchen.
The officers came to attention. Wéry, standing a little behind them, did the same.
'I was walking the ramparts between my appointments,' said the gentleman in the buff coat. 'It was just a sudden whim I had. Really, they let me have so little air during the day, you know.'
At the gentleman's elbow was the black robed, craggy-faced figure of Bergesrode.
'And what brings such a distinguished group of officers to these Avails?'
The colonels hesitated. Then Knuds, still at attention, said, 'Inspection, Your Highness,' as if it were perfectly normal that a field marshal, three colonels, a major and a couple of captains should mount the sort of inspection that was usually left to a sergeant.
'Commendable,' beamed the Prince-Bishop of Erzberg. 'Commendable! No, come, gentlemen, we are all colleagues. Let us be at ease together. Continue your work and share your conclusions with me. I shall play truant from my duties to assist you with yours.' His smile took in all of them, and he nodded agreeably to Wéry, whom he seemed to recognize without difficulty.
The colonels looked sidelong at one another. They were wondering at all the play-acting. Could the Prince not even be seen to consult his officers any more?
After a moment the citadel commander, gruffly, began to speak about the armament on the walls, repeating much of what he had said earlier. Wéry sidled closer. The Prince looked like some genial and indulgent uncle, listening to a favourite nephew recite his piece.
But the questions he asked . . .
'How much powder is there in the city . . . ?
'Dear me. And how long would that last, if the guns were firing all day . . . ?
'How many trained gunners are there . . . ?
'Very well, so how long will it take to train more?'
'Six weeks, Your Highness. About six weeks,' said Knuds, beginning to look uncomfortable.
'That right, Grasse?' interjected Balcke.
'Um . . . If it's just to crew a gun in a fixed position, I'd say less, sir,' said the artilleryman. 'But to captain it, manage the charges, lay, elevate – three months at least. And it needs plenty of live firing. As much as . . .'
'It's gun captains we need,' growled Balcke.
Knuds's left shoulder seemed to shrug involuntarily.
'If only it had been possible for the Treasury to have allowed us . . .' he ventured.
'Of course,' sighed the Prince. 'Really, they are so unreasonable! And how is the mood of the men?'
'Excellent, Your Highness,' said Balcke stiffly. 'It is excellent.'
The Prince's smile broadened. 'Come, my dear Colossus. I am no despot. I think you may be frank with me.'
Balcke hesitated. 'Show them an enemy, Your Highness, and they will do their duty.'
'Oh, I am sure of it. And the militias, what of them?'
Again the officers hesitated.
First the guns, then morale, and now the militia – the half trained bands of countrymen who would fulfil secondary tasks for the army in time of war, and who in a last resort might be called on to man the defences.
Where was all this leading?
'Your Highness must of course address that question to the inspectors of militia.'
'I believe that I shall. And I believe that the inspectors will tell me that the mood of the militias, too, is excellent. However, let us suppose that I were to command that the militias take to the field beside the – ah – regular army. What would you gentlemen, as experienced soldiers, advise me to expect?'
'The country militias should be well enough,' said Altmantz, after a moment's pause. 'Put a peasant behind a plough or behind a musket, it's the same thing. He'll keep it pointing straight ahead. But I'd not like to arm the guilds.'
'Not with the city in the mood it is at present,' grunted Balcke. 'We'd have to be desperate, or damned fools.'
'You are right, of course you are right,' said the Prince, nodding his head sorrowfully. 'The mood of the city is most uncertain. Indeed it is not inconceivable that, should certain events occur, the question of keeping order may arise again . . .'
Keeping order. Wéry saw the words register on the officers'
faces. 'Keeping order' must mean martial law. And the Prince would only do that if there were more riots. Or a siege.
The officers looked at each other. Martial law? A siege? In time of peace?
Balcke cleared his throat.
'The men would do their duty, Your Highness. As we have said.'
The Prince swung his owlish face to the others. There were grunts that might have been assent. His gaze fell last upon Wéry.
'Ah, Captain,' said the Prince. 'It is a pleasure to see such a hard-working officer in the open air. Are you also part of this inspection?'
'Er, I believe so, Your Highness.'
'Excellent. I found your recent report most interesting, Captain. Have you by any chance shared it with your fellow inspectors?'
'Er, no, not yet, Your Highness.'
Bergesrode had strictly forbidden him to pass anything to anyone outside the Prince's office.
'Perhaps you would do so.'
Everyone was looking at him. And they were beginning to guess now.
'It will be recalled that Hoche had withdrawn a part of his Army of the Sambre-et-Meuse from Germany,' he began. 'Our understanding was that an expedition to Ireland was contemplated . . .'
The Prince nodded, encouragingly.
'. . . It now appears that this expedition has been aborted. The troops who were to take part in it are on their way back to Germany. What is more, Hoche himself, although recently appointed Minister of War in Paris, has given up the post and has also returned to Germany.'
'Indeed,' said the Prince. 'A remarkable move. One would have thought that the star of the Republic had plunged suddenly into disgrace, were it not for the other elements you drew to our attention. Continue, Captain.'
'The Army of the Sambre-et-Meuse is to be united with the Army of the Rhine in a new army, the Army of Germany, and Hoche is to be in command.'
'Plainly there has been something of a change of plans in Paris,' said the Prince. 'The French forces in Germany are to be reorganized and returned to full strength. Intriguing. Mystifying, one might say. You had a theory, Captain. You put it rather elegantly, I thought. Please share it with these gentlemen.'
'I think Paris must be planning to enforce its will on some party in Germany,' finished Wéry.
'And I am inclined to agree with you. For I have been graced with a letter from the vigorous General Hoche, in which he demands many things.'
Someone drew breath. And suddenly the things that had puzzled them – the clandestine meeting, the questions about the defences and militia – had fallen into place.
'Dear Virgin!' exclaimed the Fapps colonel. 'Is it us they are coming for?'
'That depends on exactly what he is demanding, doesn't it?' said Balcke.
The Count and the Prince looked at one another, and the Prince smiled broadly. For a moment Wéry sensed a tussle in the air between them.
'Things,' said the Prince, 'that he may well imagine I will find difficult to grant him. And I do.'
There was a long pause.
The army of Erzberg consisted of three infantry battalions, two squadrons of hussars, a handful of ceremonial life guards, some dragoons employed on frontier duties, and a battery of field artillery. At full strength it would have numbered some three and a half thousand men. After the recent campaign, and the fight at Hersheim, it was of course no longer at full strength.
At Wéry's last estimate the Army of the Sambre-et-Meuse had nearly eighty thousand effectives, counting the troops who had been dispatched for the expedition to Ireland, and who now appeared to be returning. The Army of the Rhine was smaller, but not by much. It would also have to watch the Emperor's garrisons at Mainz and Frankfurt, but that made no difference. Uniting the two commands would give Hoche all the freedom of action that he needed.
And the Erzberg's defences were hardly defences at all: one line of bastioned walls, a ditch, and the citadel. No outworks. Nothing to compare with the massive fortifications Wéry remembered at Mainz, which had held the Imperial force for four months.
And not enough powder. Or time. Or men to captain the guns.
'We are in a serious situation, gentlemen,' said the Prince.
No one answered him.
Beyond the ring, another man entered the bastion.
Wéry recognized the newcomer at once, from the largeness of his head upon his delicate body, and from his long nose and pink cheeks. It was Gianovi, the First Minister of Erzberg, strutting purposefully towards them. He had no coat, despite the wind, but bright white silk breeches and a dark blue velvet doublet, which would have been better off indoors on such a day.
Following Wéry's glance, Bergesrode looked over his shoulder.
'Highness,' he murmured at his master's elbow.
The Prince turned. He showed no surprise. Instead his face broke once more into that expression of gourmand's glee that he had worn on greeting the army officers.
'Ah, the First Minister! Dear me – does this mean that I am late, after all?'
The First Minister bowed.
'Your pardon, Highness,' he said smoothly. 'I have not checked my watch. If you are late, then I am also. I had – a sudden whim – to take the air before the Privy Council meets.'
His voice had a light accent, and his tone took it for granted that any meeting between the Prince and the army would of course include the First Minister as well. The officers stood rigid, hiding behind wooden expressions. But the Prince showed no surprise at this arrival in the middle of his council of war.
'Indeed? Indeed? We are of like mind this morning. Good! And I have come upon an inspection of the defences, Gianovi. These gentlemen tell me many things I find fascinating.'
Gianovi eyed the officers with a little smile. He held his huge head a little on one side, and with his long nose and pink cheeks he reminded Wéry of a jay on a fence, watching a snail and wondering if it were good to eat.
'I imagine they have been instructing you in what steps are necessary to breach the walls, Highness.'
'I do not believe we discussed that, no.'
'It surprises me,' said the First Minister in a tone of no great surprise. 'I should have thought it was the first – indeed the only – step that we would require of the army in our current position.'
'Our current position?' said the Prince, as if it had been the last thing on his mind.
'I believe the letter from General Hoche requires us, as well as expelling forthwith from the city all who – ahem – plot against the Republic, to make breaches in the walls of both the citadel and the town, as evidence of our goodwill. Of course,' he added, 'I have not yet seen this letter, but I believe it is quite specific . . .'
From the expression on Bergesrode's face, the First Minister must have quoted it almost verbatim.
'Of course you are right,' said the Prince. 'We must consider our options.'
'We might very well consider our options,' said the First Minister briskly, 'supposing we had more than one.'
The Prince frowned. But he did not rebuke his servant for his tone.
'We shall appeal to the Circle, of course.'
'Of course,Your Highness. And I am sure our neighbours will listen politely. The representatives of Ansbach and Bayreuth will then apply to Berlin for instructions. Those instructions will take time to come, but we can imagine what they will be. The other Protestant princes will wait for Berlin to reject us, and will then do the same. So, I imagine, will some of the Catholic counties. I did happen – quite by chance – to speak with the delegate from Bamberg this afternoon, who told me in confidence that he would seek instructions to press for the Circle to offer help. In the case of his state, he believes, this would mean money. The delegates from Eichstatt and the cantons will no doubt say similar things . . .'
'I did think,' sighed the Prince,'that my cousin Bamberg might send a musket or two.'
'Not one state in the Circle will offer troops, because not one state believes that we or they could possibly resist if – in an entirely
imaginary situation, which I am sure no sane man, least of all a Prince who is father of his people, would contemplate – if General Hoche and his legions were provoked into descending upon us.'
His bright little eyes swept the row of officers as if to suggest that it was they, rather than the Prince, who must be responsible for the insanity that he had come hurrying to the bastion to prevent.
The officers glared back at him.
'And the Emperor?' said the Prince, unperturbed. 'After all, he has pledged to us that the integrity of the German body will be maintained.'
Gianovi bowed. 'Your Highness is accurate. We shall of course appeal to Vienna. We may at the same time enquire precisely what His Imperial Majesty intended by the words "integrity" and "German body" which seem so curiously open to interpretation. I am sure His Imperial Majesty will consider our case – when he can tear his mind from his negotiations with France. But we must be prepared for the possibility that he may be slower than we would wish to return to armed confrontation, and may perhaps require a greater cause even than the fate of Erzberg before he does so.'
'You may be right, my dear Gianovi,' mused the Prince. 'We are almost helpless, it seems, in the face of the French phenomenon. Although . . .'
And he looked away into the air, as if he were addressing no one in particular, and contemplated only the passing of the seasons.
'. . . Although I have wondered of late whether our helplessness, and that of the Empire and of all the crowned heads of Christendom, is not so much a lack of means, but of will . . .
'And whether, if that were the case, it might not be possible for the will of Christendom to be recovered by some example, be it never so small, from amongst the ranks of princes.'
Gianovi spread his hands.
'But if will were all, Highness,' he said carefully,'we might have achieved many things that we have not. We would now have a printed German prayer book in your territories, and cultivation of clover, not to speak of emancipation of the serfs, reform of the monasteries, a broadening of the university curriculum, taxation of the nobility and many other right and just things that you have sought over the years. Alas, we sometimes meet with a will that is countervailing, armed with force that is – in this case – overwhelming.'
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