by G. A. Henty
In a few minutes they reached the hotel, and the count led Fergus to a door.
“You will find Thirza alone there. We thought that you had best see her so, at first.”
Half an hour later, the count and countess entered the room.
“He looks very pale and thin, mother,” Thirza said, after the countess had affectionately embraced Fergus.
“You would hardly have expected to find him fat and rosy,” the count laughed. “A man does not lose his arm, and go about as if the matter was not worth thinking of, a few weeks afterwards. He is certainly looking better than I expected to find him.
“That empty sleeve is a sad disfigurement, though,” he added slyly.
“How can you say so, father?” Thirza exclaimed indignantly. “I think quite the contrary, and I feel quite proud of him with it.”
“Well, there is no accounting for taste, Thirza. If you are satisfied, I have no reason to be otherwise.
“And now, Drummond, we want to hear all about Liegnitz and Torgau; for we have only heard the Austrian accounts. Dresden illuminated over Daun’s first despatch from Torgau, saying that the Prussian attacks had been repulsed with tremendous slaughter, and a complete victory gained. The next morning there came, I believe, another despatch, but it was not published; and it was not until we heard that Daun and Lacy were both within a few miles of the town that we knew that, somehow or other, there had been a mistake about the matter, a mistake that has not yet been cleared up, at Dresden.”
“The defeat part of the business I can tell you from my personal observation, the victory only from what I heard. Certainly, when I came to my senses, after the surgeons had seen to my wounds, I had no thought of anything but a disastrous defeat. Never did the Prussians fight more bravely, or more hopelessly. They had to mount a steep ascent, with four hundred cannon playing upon them; and an army, more than three times their number, waiting at the top to receive them.”
He then proceeded to tell them the whole story of the battle.
“Ziethen seems to have blundered terribly,” the count said.
“I believe that that is the king’s opinion, too; but Ziethen himself defends his action stoutly, and maintains that he could never have succeeded in a direct attack, in broad daylight. Anyhow, as the matter came out all right in the end, the king was too well satisfied to do no more than grumble at him.
“The other was a hard-fought battle, too.”
“The news of that was a relief to us, indeed,” the count said. “It seemed to everyone that Frederick was so completely caught in the toils that he could not hope to extricate himself. As you know, in this war I have, all along, held myself to be a neutral. I considered that the plot to overthrow Frederick and partition the kingdom was a scandalous one, and that the king disgraced himself and us by joining in it; but since that time, my sympathies have become more and more strongly with Frederick. It is impossible not to admire the manner in which he has defended himself. Moreover, the brutality with which the Confederates and Austrians, wherever their armies penetrated Saxony, treated the Protestants, made one regard him as the champion of Protestantism.
“He was wrong in forcing the Saxons to take service with him in his army, after their surrender at Pirna; and the taxes and exactions have, for the last three years, weighed heavily on Saxony, but I cannot blame him for that. It was needful that he should have money to carry on the war, and as Saxony had brought it on herself, I could not blame him that he bore heavily upon her.
“Then, too, Thirza has, for the last two or three years, become a perfect enthusiast for the Prussians. Whether it was the king’s gracious manner to herself, or from some other cause, I cannot say; but she has certainly become an ultra-Prussian.
“And now lunch must be ready, and you look as if you wanted it, Drummond; and I am sure Thirza does. She was too excited to eat supper, when we got here last night; and as for her breakfast, it was altogether untouched.”
“No doubt you think, Drummond,” Count Eulenfurst said, when he called the next morning, “that you have done your duty fairly to Prussia.”
“How do you mean, count?” Fergus replied, somewhat puzzled by the question.
“I mean that you have served five campaigns, you have been twice made a prisoner, you were wounded at Zorndorf, you nearly died of fever last winter, now you have lost your arm at Torgau; so I think that you have fully done your duty to the king under whom you took service, and could now retire with a thoroughly clear conscience.
“My own idea is that the war has quite spent its strength. France is practically bankrupt. Austria and Russia must be as tired of the war as Prussia, and this last defeat of their hopes cannot but discourage the two empresses greatly. I hear, from my friends in Vienna, that in the capital and all the large cities they are becoming absolutely disgusted with the war; and though it may go on for a while, I believe that its fury is spent.
“At any rate, I think you have earned a right to think of yourself, as well as others. You certainly have nothing to gain by staying longer in the service.”
“I was thinking the same, last night, count. Certainly one man, more or less, will make no difference to Frederick; but I thought that, unless you spoke of it, I should let matters go on as they are, except that I thought of asking for three months’ leave to go home.”
“That you should go home for a few months is an excellent plan, Drummond; but I think it would be better that, when you were there, you should be able to stay five or six months, if so inclined. Go to the king, tell him frankly that you feel that you want rest and quiet for a time, that you have no longer any occasion in the pecuniary way for remaining in the army, and that you want to get married—all good reasons for resigning a commission. You see, we have now some sort of right to have a voice in the matter. You had a narrow escape at Torgau, and next time you might not be so fortunate; and, anxious as we are for Thirza’s happiness, we do think it is high time that you retired from the service.”
“That decides it, count. I myself have had quite enough of this terrible work. Were I a Prussian, I should owe my first duty to the country, and as long as the war continued should feel myself bound to set aside all private considerations to defend her to the last; but it is not so, and my first duty now is assuredly to Thirza, to you, and to the countess. Therefore I will, this morning, go to the king and ask him to allow me to resign my commission.”
“Do so, Drummond. I thought of saying as much to you, last year; but the anxiety of those terrible three or four days after Torgau decided me. If I thought that your honour was concerned in remaining longer in the army, I should be the last to advise you to leave it, even for the sake of my daughter’s happiness; but as it is not so, I have no hesitation in urging you to retire.”
“’Tis a good time for me to leave, now. My cousin, the Earl Marischal Keith, returned here three days ago, and I will get him to go with me to the king.”
“I shall say nothing to my wife and Thirza about it, till I see you again, Drummond. Of course the king cannot refuse, but I should like him to take it in good part; as indeed, I doubt not that he will.”
“I have no doubt that he will, too, count. You may think it absurd, and perhaps vain of me; but indeed it is of the king that I am thinking, rather than of myself. During the past three years he has been good enough to treat me with singular kindness. He has had trouble and care which would have broken down most men, and I think that it has been some relief to him to put aside his cares and troubles, for an hour or two of an evening, and to talk to a young fellow like myself on all sorts of matters; just as he does to Sir John Mitchell, and my cousin, the Earl Marischal.”
“I have no doubt of it, Drummond, and I quite understand your feeling in the matter. Still, we are selfish enough to think of our feelings, too.”
As soon as the count left, Fergus put on his full uniform and went to the king’s quarters. He first saw the Earl Marischal, and told him his errand.
“You are quite r
ight,” the old man said heartily. “You have done more than enough fighting, and there is no saying how long this war may drag on. I told you, when I first heard of your engagement to the young countess, that I was glad indeed that you were not always to remain a soldier of fortune; and I am sure that the king will consider that you have more than done your duty, by remaining in his service for a year, after having so splendid a prospect before you. Frederick is disengaged at present, and I will go over with you to him, and will myself open the matter.”
Fergus had not seen the king since his arrival at Leipzig.
“I am truly glad to see you on your feet again,” the latter said, as Fergus followed his cousin into the room. “I felt by no means sure that I should ever see you again, on that day after Torgau; but you still look very thin and pulled down. You want rest, lad. We all want rest, but it is not all of us that can get it.”
“That is what he has come to speak to you about, your majesty,” Keith said. “I told you, a year ago, that he was engaged to be married to the daughter of Count Eulenfurst.”
The king nodded.
“I remember her, the bright little lady who received me, when I went to her father’s house.”
“The same, sire. He thinks that the warning he had at Torgau was sufficient; and that, having done his best in your majesty’s cause, he has now earned a right to think of himself and her; and so he would beg your majesty to allow him to resign his commission, and to retire from the service.”
“He has certainly well earned the right,” the king said gravely. “He has done me right good and loyal service, even putting aside that business at Zorndorf; and not the least of those services has been that he has often cheered me, by his talk, when I sorely needed cheering. That empty sleeve of his, that scar won at Zorndorf, are all proofs how well he has done his duty; and his request, now that fortune has smiled upon him in other ways, is a fair and reasonable one.
“I hope, Colonel Drummond,” he went on in a lighter tone, “that as you will be settled in Saxony—and this war cannot go on for ever—I shall someday see you and your bride at Berlin. None will be more welcome.”
“He is going home to Scotland for a few months, in the first place,” Keith said. “It is only right that he should visit his mother and people there, before he settles here. He will, like enough, be back again before the campaign opens in the spring.”
Fergus, whose heart was very full, said a few words of thanks to the king for the kindness that he had always shown him, and for what he had now said; and assured him that he should not only come to Berlin, as soon as peace was made; but that, as long as the war lasted, he would pay his respects to him every year, when he was in winter quarters. He then withdrew, and made his way to the hotel.
“It is done,” he said to the count as he entered. “I have resigned my commission, and the king has accepted it. He was most kind. I am glad that I have done it, and yet it was a very hard thing to do.”
Thirza uttered an exclamation of joy.
“I am glad, indeed, Fergus, that you are not going to that terrible war again.”
“I can understand your feelings, Drummond,” the count said, putting his hand upon his shoulder. “I know that it must have been a wrench to you, but that will pass off in a short time. You have done your duty nobly, and have fairly earned a rest.
“Now, let us talk of other things. When do you think of starting for Scotland?”
“To that I must reply,” Fergus said with a smile, “‘How long are you thinking of stopping here?’ Assuredly I shall not want to be going, as long as you are here. And in any case, I should like my mother to have a week’s notice before I come home; and I think that, in another fortnight, my wound will be completely healed.”
“I was thinking,” the count said, “that you will want to take a nurse with you.”
“Do you mean, count,” Fergus exclaimed eagerly, “that Thirza could go with me? That would be happiness, indeed.”
“I don’t quite see why she should not, Drummond. There are churches here, and clergymen.
“What do you say, Thirza?”
“Oh, father,” the girl said, with a greatly heightened colour, “I could never be ready so soon as that!
“Could I, mother?”
“I don’t know, my dear. Your father was talking to me an hour ago about it, and that was what I said; but he answered that, although you might not be able to get a great many clothes made, there will be plenty of time to get your things from home; and that, in some respects, it would be much more convenient for you to be married here than at Dresden. Your marriage, with one who had so lately left the service of Prussia, would hardly be a popular one with the Austrians in Dresden. So that, altogether, the plan would be convenient. We can set the milliners to work at once and, in another fortnight, get your bridal dress ready, and such things as are absolutely necessary.
“Of course, if you would rather remain single for another three or four months, your father and I would not wish to press you unduly.”
“It is not that, mother,” she said shyly; “but it does seem so very quick.”
“If a thing is good, the sooner it is done the better,” the count said; and Thirza offered no further objection.
The next day an order appeared, that Colonel Fergus Drummond had been advanced another step in the order of the Black Eagle, following which came:
“Colonel Fergus Drummond, having lost an arm at the battle of Torgau, has resigned his commission; which has been accepted with great regret by the king, the services of Colonel Drummond having been, in the highest degree, meritorious and distinguished.”
The king, having heard from the Earl Marischal that Fergus was to be married at Leipzig before leaving for Scotland, took great interest in the matter; and when the time came, was himself present in the cathedral, together with a brilliant gathering of generals and other officers of the army in the vicinity, and of many Saxon families of distinction who were acquainted with Count Eulenfurst. Fergus had obtained Karl’s discharge from the army—the latter, who had long since served his full time, having begged most earnestly to remain in his service.
On the following day Fergus started with his wife for Scotland, drove to Magdeburg and, four days later, reached Hamburg; where they embarked on board a ship for Edinburgh, Karl of course accompanying them.
It was a day to be long remembered, in the glen, when Colonel Drummond and his Saxon wife came to take possession of his father’s estates; where his mother had now been established for upwards of a year, in the old mansion. It was late when they arrived. A body of mounted men with torches met them, at the boundary of the estate; and accompanied them to the house, where all the tenants and clansmen were assembled. Great bonfires blazed, and scores of torches added to the picturesque effect. A party of pipers struck up an air of welcome as they drove forward, and a roar of cheering, and shouts of welcome greeted them.
“Welcome to your Scottish home!” Fergus said to his wife. “’Tis a poor place, in comparison with your father’s, but nowhere in the world will you find truer hearts and a warmer greeting than here.”
His mother was standing on the steps as he leapt out, and she embraced him with tears of joy; while after him she gave a warm and affectionate greeting to Thirza. Then Fergus turned to the clansmen, who stood thronging round the entrance, with waving torches and bonnets thrown wildly in the air; and said a few words of thanks for their welcome, and of the pleasure and pride he felt in coming again among them, as the head of the clan and master of his father’s estates.
Then he presented Thirza to them as their mistress.
“She has brought me another home, across the sea,” he said, “but she will soon come to love this, as well as her own; and though I shall be absent part of the time, she will come with me every summer to stay among you, and will regard you as her people, as well as mine.”
Among the dependents ranged in the hall was Wulf, with whom Fergus shook hands warmly.
“I should never have got on as well as I have, Wulf,” he said, “had it not been for your teaching, both in German and in arms. I commend to your special care my servant Karl, who speaks no English, and will feel strange here at first. He has been my companion all this time, has given me most faithful service, and has saved my life more than once. He has now left the army to follow me.”
Fergus remained three months at home. Thirza was delighted with the country, and the affection shown by the people to Fergus; and studied diligently to learn the language, that she might be able to communicate personally with them, and above all with Mrs. Drummond, to whom she speedily became much attached.
At the end of April they returned to Saxony, and took up their abode on the estate the count had settled on them, at their marriage.
For two years longer the war continued, but with much diminished fury, and there was no great battle fought. The king planted himself in a camp, which he rendered impregnable, and there menacing the routes by which the Saxon and Russian armies brought their supplies from Bohemia, paralysed their movements; while General Platen made a raid into Poland, and destroyed a great portion of the Russian magazines in that direction, so that the campaign came to naught. Ferdinand, with the aid of his English, defeated Broglio and Soubise at Villingshausen; Soubise remaining inactive during the battle, as Broglio had done at Minden.
At the beginning of 1762 a happy event for the king took place. The Empress of Russia died; and Peter, a great admirer of Frederick, came to the throne. The Prussian king at once released all the Russian prisoners, and sent them back; and Peter returned the compliment by sending home the Prussian prisoners and, six weeks after his accession, issued a declaration that there ought to be peace with the King of Prussia, and that the czar was resolved that the war should be ended. He at once gave up East Prussia and other conquests, and recalled the Russian army. He not only did this, but he ordered his General Czernichef to march and join the king.
The news caused absolute dismay in Austria, and hastened the Swedes to conclude a peace with Frederick. They had throughout the war done little, but the peace set free the force that had been watching them; and which had regularly, every year, driven them back as fast as they endeavoured to invade Prussia on that side.