by G. A. Henty
“I trust that when you return to Dresden, lieutenant, I shall be able, myself, to do my best to prove my gratitude for your services.”
After taking leave of the count, his wife, and daughter, Fergus rode back to the royal quarters. As Karl took his horse, he said:
“Herr lieutenant, I know not how we are going to manage.”
“In what way, Karl?”
“Two magnificent horses, complete with saddlery, holsters, and pistols, arrived here half an hour since. The man who brought them said they were from Count Eulenfurst, and handed me this note:
“‘Pray accept the horses we send you, as a feeble token of our gratitude. May they, by their speed and staunchness, carry you unharmed through dangers well nigh as great as those you faced for us.’”
Fergus walked by the side of the soldier as he led the horse round to the stable.
“There, sir,” Karl said, pointing to a pair of splendid animals; “they are fit for a king.”
“’Tis a noble gift, and indeed, I doubt whether the king himself has such horses in his stables. The question is, what is to be done with them? My present charger is an excellent one and, as a gift of the marshal, I could not part with it. As to the others, it is out of the question that I can take both. It would be altogether contrary to rules. I am entitled to forage for two horses—that is, when forage is to be had.
“Ah! I see what had best be done. Come to my room with me. I will give you a letter to the count.”
He wrote as follows:
“Dear Count Eulenfurst,
“I cannot refuse the noble gift that you have made me, and thank you and the countess for it, with all my heart. At present, however, it places me in a difficulty. Aides-de-camp are allowed to take only two horses; indeed, my orderly could not take with him more than one led horse. The animal I have was the gift of Marshal Keith. That being so, you will see that I could not part with it. The only solution, therefore, that occurs to me is to beg you to add to your kindness, by taking care of the one that I send back to you by the bearer, until I return to Dresden; or find means to send for it, in the event of one of the others being killed.
“The only fault with your gifts is that they ought to be kept for state reviews, or grand occasions; for it seems wrong to take such noble creatures into the midst of a heavy fire. I am sure that I shall feel more nervous, lest a ball should injure my horse, than I shall do for my own safety.”
When he had folded and sealed this, he handed it to Karl, who had followed shortly after him.
“I am sending back one of the horses, Karl, and asking the count to take care of it for me, until I return or send for it. Do you see any difference between them?”
“It would be hard to pick the best, lieutenant. They both struck me as being perfect in all points—both are four years old.”
“Well then, you must take one at random, Karl. Had one been better than the other, I should have left it behind. As it is, take whichever you choose.”
“The man who brought them told me, sir, that both were bred on the count’s estates; and that he prided himself on having some of the best blood in Europe, both for beauty and stamina. He thought this pair were the pick of the stables.”
“I almost wish I could leave them both behind, but I could not do so without hurting the feelings of the count and countess. But they are too good for an aide-de-camp’s work.”
“I don’t think anything can be too good for that, sir. An aide-de-camp wants a horse that will stop at nothing; and sometimes he has to ride for his life, pursued by the enemy’s cavalry. You will be the envy of the division, on one of those horses.”
Karl returned an hour later with a message from the countess, saying that she could not disturb her husband, who was then resting, but that she understood Mr. Drummond’s difficulty, and they should be very glad to take care of the horse for him, until he wanted it.
“You did not see the countess, I suppose, Karl?”
“Yes, sir, I saw her. She had me taken upstairs to her room. She asked if I was your servant, and when I said yes, she told me that she hoped I would take great care of you. I said that was my duty.
“‘Nevertheless, do more than your duty,’ she said. ‘His life is a very precious one to us.
“‘Is it not, Thirza?’
“The young lady nodded.
“‘Here are five gold crowns for yourself,’ she went on, handing me the money. ‘They may help to make your bivouac more comfortable.
“‘And now,’ she said, ‘there is something else, but I do not wish you to tell your master.’
“What am I to do, your honour?”
“You had better keep it to yourself, Karl,” Fergus laughed. “I daresay I shall hear of it, someday.”
“Very well, lieutenant, then that is all there is to report.”
The next morning Fergus started early. Two days previously, a Prussian governor had been appointed to Dresden, and three thousand men were left under his command. Similar appointments were also made to all the fortified towns in Saxony; for now that the negotiations were broken off, and the King of Poland had declared finally for the Confederates, Saxony was to be treated as a conquered country. Nevertheless, strict injunctions were given that all cattle, wheat, and other provisions taken for the use of the garrisons, or for storing up in fortresses whence it might be forwarded to the army, were to be paid for; and that any act of pillage or ill treatment was to be most severely punished, as the king was still most anxious to gain the goodwill of the mass of the population.
CHAPTER 5
Lobositz
In Dresden itself, the feeling was far from hostile to the invaders. The discontent with the vicious government had been extreme, and the imposts now levied were less onerous than those which had been wasted in profusion and extravagance. The conduct of the troops had been admirable; and in the case of Count Eulenfurst, the personal visit of the king to express his regrets, and his generosity to the families of the servants, had produced a most excellent effect.
As Fergus rode into the camp, mounted on his new acquisition, it at once caught the marshal’s eye.
“Why, Fergus,” he exclaimed, “have you been robbing the King of Poland’s stables? That is a noble animal, indeed.”
“It was a present from Count Eulenfurst, marshal,” Fergus replied. “He sent me two, but one of them he is going to keep for me until I return; for I could not part with Rollo, who is as good a horse as anyone can wish to ride; and I know his paces.”
“You are right, lad, for it is always well to accustom yourself to a horse, before you want to use it in action; but in faith, it will be a pity to ride such a horse as that through the heat of a battle.”
“I feel that, sir; but as the count, in his letter with the horses, said that he hoped they would carry me safely through dangers as grave as those I had encountered at his house, I feel that he would be hurt if, on my return, I admitted to him that I had saved it for show occasions.”
“You are right,” Keith said approvingly; “but that is the more reason that you should accustom yourself to it, before you use it for such work; as horse and rider should be as one on the field of battle and, unless the horse has absolute confidence in its rider, it is very difficult to keep it steady under fire.”
“I suppose we shall not see the king for some time, marshal,” Fergus said later, as Keith was chatting with him.
“On the contrary, he will be with us tomorrow. He rides today to have another look at the Saxon position, and to give his orders there. He will, tomorrow morning, join us. It is we who are likely to have the first fighting; for the Austrians must come to the relief of the Saxons, who are shut up, as in a trap, by our divisions. They made a great mistake in not retiring, at once, into Bohemia; which they could have done without difficulty, had they lost no time.
“There is no greater mistake than shutting a large force up, either in a fortress or an intrenched camp, unless that fortress is an absolute obstacle to an
enemy. This is not the case with Pirna. The mountains can be crossed at many other points and, by leaving five or six thousand men in a strong position at the end of each defile, we could disregard them altogether, and march on southward. They have already been three weeks there, and we believe that they cannot hold out very much longer. However, it is probable that they may be able to do so until an Austrian force comes up, and tries to relieve them.
“From what we hear, two armies have already entered Bohemia, and we may expect that our first battle will not be far distant.”
“Do we block the only line of retreat, sir?” Fergus asked.
“No, indeed. We do not absolutely close the direct road, but our position, and that of Marshal Schwerin facing Koeniggraetz, so menaces their line of retreat that they dare not venture from their shelter; and our cavalry render it impossible for any supplies to be thrown in, unless the convoy is supported by an army. There are, we know, paths across the hills by which infantry might effect a passage; but as there is nowhere a place for them to retire to, we should easily overtake them and force them to surrender.
“No, their only hope is in the coming of relief.”
A few hours later, the king himself rode in. In the evening, orders were issued that a force of cavalry and infantry were to march at daylight, and that the rest of the army were to follow, two hours later. It was soon known that the king had received news that Marshal Browne—an Irish officer of great distinction, who commanded the Austrian force gathered at Budin, on the Eger—was expecting the arrival of artillery and pontoons from Vienna, in the course of a day or two, and was preparing to cross the river. It was evident, then, that his intention was to relieve the Saxon army, in the first place.
The roads through the defiles were very heavy and difficult, but that afternoon the advance force reached Termitz. Late in the evening the rest of the army arrived there.
A squadron of cavalry had been sent off, as soon as the vanguard arrived, to ascertain the movements of the enemy; and they returned, at ten at night, with information that the Austrians had crossed the Eger that day, and were to encamp at Lobositz. The army at once moved on across the mountains and, after a very difficult and fatiguing march, arrived near Lobositz; and lay down for some hours in the order in which they had marched, taking up their position as soon as it was light.
The infantry were in two lines. Their left was posted on a steep hill known as the Lobosch, part of whose lower slopes extended to the village of Lobositz. A battery, with infantry supports, took post on a hill called Homolka, which commanded the whole plain between the two armies. The centre stretched across the valley between those hills.
On the low hill on which stood the little town, the Austrians had thrown up intrenchments, and posted a very strong artillery force, whose fire would sweep a greater portion of the Prussian position. Except at this point, the ground between the two armies was low and swampy. The Austrian force was greatly superior in numbers, consisting of 72 squadrons of horse, 52 battalions of infantry, and 98 guns; while the Prussians had 55 squadrons, 26 battalions, and 102 guns.
It was evident to both commanders that the village of Lobositz was the decisive point; and indeed, the nature of the ground was such as to render operations almost impossible, in the marshy plain intersected by rivulets, which in many places formed large ponds.
At seven in the morning the Prussian action began by a heavy fire between the left, on the slopes of Lobosch, and 4000 Croats and several battalions of Hungarians, scattered among the vineyards and the stone walls dividing them. A heavy fog covered the whole country and, until a full view could be obtained of the position of the enemy, neither of the commanders deemed it prudent to move.
At twelve o’clock, however, the fog began to clear up. The main body of the Austrians was still invisible; and the king, seeing but a comparatively small force in the plain near Lobositz, thought that this must be the rear guard of the Austrians; who, he imagined, having found the line by which they intended to succour the Saxons occupied in force, had retired, having thrown up batteries and left a strong force at Lobositz, to prevent the Prussians from advancing.
To ascertain this, twenty squadrons of cavalry were ordered to advance; but on doing so, they were received by so tremendous a fire from the batteries of the village, and from others at Sulowitz, another village in the plain on their right, that they fell back with much loss, pursued by the Austrian cavalry. By the time they had resumed their positions behind the infantry, the fog had entirely lifted; and the king and Marshal Keith obtained a full view of the Austrian position, from the spot where they had stationed themselves on the hill. They agreed that no attack could be made against the enemy’s centre or left, and that they could be assailed only on their right.
The troops on the Lobosch Hill were, therefore, largely reinforced; and the whole army advanced, inclining towards the left so as to attack Lobositz from the side of the plain, as well asfrom that of the mountain. A tremendous artillery fire, from the guns on the hills, heralded the advance.
The troops on the Lobosch Hill made their way forward rapidly. The ground was so steep that they commanded a view down into the vineyard, and their fire was so heavy that the Croats and Hungarians fell, as fast as they raised their heads above the stone walls to fire; and although General Browne reinforced them by some of the best Austrian infantry, they were rapidly driven down towards Lobositz. At the foot of the hill they were supported by several more battalions, brought from the Austrian centre. General Lacy, who commanded these, was wounded.
The Prussians halted at the foot of the slope and were reformed; having fallen into some disorder, from the irregular nature of the ground over which they had been fighting. The guns were brought forward, so as to cover their next advance; while a very strong force was sent to support the batteries on the Homolka Hill, so as to check the enemy’s centre and left, should they attempt any movement across the plain.
In the meantime, Marshal Browne was reinforcing the defenders of Lobositz with the whole of his right wing. The village was defended with desperate bravery but, owing to the position, the king was able to reinforce the assailants very much more rapidly than the Austrian commander could bring up his distant troops. The Prussian artillery concentrated their fire upon the place, and set it in flames from end to end; when its defenders were forced to abandon it, and retreat with precipitation on their cavalry.
In order to cover their withdrawal, the Austrian left moved down to the village of Sulowitz, and endeavoured to pass the dam over a marshy rivulet in front of it; but the fire from the battery on the Homolka rendered it impossible for them to form, and also set that village on fire, and they were therefore called back. The Austrian centre moved to its right, and occupied the ground behind Lobositz as soon as the defenders of the village had fallen back, and then Marshal Browne formed up his whole force afresh.
His position was now as strong as it had been when the battle first began, for the Prussians could not advance except between the swampy ground and the river; and would have been exposed, while doing so, to the fire of batteries both in front and in flank. The Austrians were still greatly superior in numbers, and all the advantages that had been gained might have been lost by a renewal of the action. The total loss in killed, wounded, and prisoners on the part of the Austrians was 3308. That of the Prussians was about the same.
Although indecisive—and indeed, claimed as a victory by both parties—the consequences showed that the advantage lay with the Prussians. Marshal Browne’s object had been to relieve the Saxons, Frederick’s to prevent this; and for the moment he had wholly succeeded.
On the other hand was the fact that Marshal Browne had drawn off his army practically intact, and that it was impossible for the king to winter in Bohemia, as he would have done had the Austrian army been defeated and dispersed; and the latter were still in a position to make a fresh attempt to rescue the Saxons.
To prevent this, the king despatched the Duke of Bevern
with a large force, as if to get between the Austrians and the river Eger. This movement had the desired effect. Marshal Browne at once fell back, recrossed the river, and took up his position at his former camp at Budin. From there he opened communications with the Saxons, and it was arranged that these should pass the Elbe; and that he, with 8000 men, should also do so, and march to meet them.
The Saxons, however, were detained, owing to the terrible weather and the enormous difficulty of the defiles, and only crossed on the 13th. In the meantime the Prussians had taken up positions to cut off the Saxon retreat, and after crossing they found themselves hemmed in, and the roads so commanded by newly-erected batteries that, being utterly exhausted by fatigue and hardships, they had no resource but to surrender.
The terms enforced were hard. The officers were allowed to depart, on giving their parole not to serve again, but the whole of the rank and file were incorporated in the Prussian army.
Fergus Drummond and Lindsay stood by their horses, with the other members of the staff, some short distance behind the king and Marshal Keith, as they anxiously endeavoured to discover the whereabouts and intentions of the Austrian army; while the crack of musketry, between the Croats and the troops who were gradually pressing them down the hill, continued unabated.
“This is slow work, Drummond,” Lindsay said, as hour after hour passed. “I should not like to have anything to do with the king, just at present. It is easy to see how fidgety he is, and no wonder. For aught we know there may be only three or four thousand men facing us and, while we are waiting here, the whole Austrian army may have crossed over again, and be marching up the river bank to form a junction with the Saxons; or they may have gone by the defiles we traversed the last two days, and may come down into Saxony and fall on the rear of our camp watching Pirna, while the Saxons are attacking in front. No wonder his majesty paces backwards and forwards like a wild beast in a cage.”