To All Eternity

by Christopher Nicole

  “No. It would be too dangerous. We must act very decisively, but very quietly. Karlovy checked the town out earlier this year. He knows where to go.”

  The horses’ hooves clipped the cobbles as they entered the little town.

  “Halt there.”

  It was the night watch, two men armed with staves.

  “We are on our way to Lake Balaton, to hunt,” Karlovy explained.

  “In the middle of the night? It is forty miles to Lake Balaton.”

  “We wish to get there tomorrow,” Karlovy said. “In fact, today.”

  The watchman raised his lantern the better to see him, and then the others, pausing when he uncovered Anna; and then found himself looking down the barrel of her revolver.

  “Make a sound and I will shoot you,” she said.

  The other man was speechless as Karlovy’s men dismounted to secure their arms.

  “You will come with us,” Anna said.

  They proceeded into the town, arriving at the main street.

  “This is the Budapest road,” Karlovy said. “That is where they will come.”

  “And where do they stop?”

  “At the inn on the corner.” He pointed.

  The inn was in darkness, save for a light hanging outside the door.

  “That will be our position,” Anna decided. “You said there was a garrison.”

  “The post is at the other end of town, but it is only a sergeant and six troopers. With the army only a few miles away, there is no reason for more.”

  Berkeley listened. There was no sound from the south. The army might be on manoeuvres, but it believed in a good night’s sleep.

  A cock crowed.

  “Let’s do it,” Anna said.

  They walked across the street, leading their horses, still stamping river water from their boots, and into the yard. A dog barked, and an upstairs window opened. “Who is there?”

  “Weary travellers,” Karlovy said.

  “We are closed.”

  “I beg you to open. We will not trouble you until it is time for breakfast. We just wish to stable our horses and rest our bones.”

  The innkeeper closed the window, and a moment later they saw the flare of a light. Karlovy and one of his men stood at the door. The two watchmen were immediately behind them, held by Berkeley and Lockwood and menaced by Anna’s revolver. Karlovy’s other two men held the horses.

  The dog continued to bark, and was beside his master when the door was opened. He was a big dog and bared his teeth, instinctively recognising the intruders as enemies.

  “What the . . .” the innkeeper gazed at the rifle presented to his chest.

  “Obey us, and live,” Karlovy said. “And keep that dog under control.”

  The innkeeper gasped and seized the dog’s collar just as it seemed the animal was about to launch an attack.

  “Back up,” Karlovy commanded.

  The innkeeper retreated into the taproom and the anarchists followed, save for the two men with the horses which were now led round the side of the building to keep them out of sight from the street.

  The innkeeper was carrying only a candle. Karlovy went behind the bar to find a lantern, which he lit. The innkeeper stared at the two watchmen, eyes huge. The dog growled. Then the innkeeper’s eyes grew even larger as he gazed at Anna.

  “What are you doing?” he asked. “There is nothing here to rob.”

  “Let us be the judge of that,” Anna said. “How many people are in the building?”

  “My wife and son, and two travellers.”

  “Karlovy, you and Pietr go with him, find them and lock them up. Put the dog in the side room and shut the door.”

  Karlovy nodded, and pushed the innkeeper in front of him.

  “Berkeley, will you and Lockwood fetch the gear,” Anna said.

  “What about these two?”

  Anna smiled. “They are not going to misbehave themselves. Sit down, gentlemen.”

  The watchkeepers obeyed, faces working behind the gags.

  Berkeley and Lockwood got the bags down from the horses and brought them inside.

  “I assume you know how to assemble a Hotchkiss gun?” Anna asked.

  “I do. Are you saying there is a Hotchkiss in here?”

  “Did you not tell me that Harry was a machine gunner in your army?”

  Berkeley and Lockwood looked at each other. Then they put the gun together, arranging the belt of bullets. “This is one hell of a weapon.”

  “It cost me a great deal. And unfortunately, it will have to be abandoned. Still, we should make enough this morning to pay for it.”

  “Where do you want it?”

  “Just inside the door. They must come into the yard before we open fire.” She wore a watch on her lapel, and this she now checked. “It will be light in an hour, and they are due immediately after that.”

  From upstairs there came the sound of a strangled scream. The dog was still barking.

  “I should shoot that animal,” Anna said. “He will wake up the town.”

  “Not so fast as the sound of a shot,” Berkeley said.

  Karlovy and his man came down the stairs.

  “All correct?” Anna asked.

  “All correct. They will be able to get free in time.”

  “Not in sufficient time. Let’s eat.”

  They ate bread and sausage, and Anna made some coffee. It began to grow light outside.

  “Take your positions,” she said.

  Karlovy went outside to join his two men in the yard; they had now tethered the horses all of which had been saddled. Armed with rifles, they took up their positions just inside the gate to the yard, so that they would be behind anyone entering. In the building, Lockwood sat behind the Hotchkiss gun, hand on the crank. Anna, Berkeley and the fourth man were armed with rifles.

  “You understand,” Anna said. “We shoot to kill.”

  Berkeley swallowed, but he was in too deep to have any other ideas.

  Slowly the town began to come to life. The innkeeper’s dog had now grown tired of barking and appeared to have gone to sleep. But other dogs in the town barked and there were sounds of movement. A slow clatter of hooves and wheels marked the approach of the milk float.

  Berkeley glanced at Anna, who again looked at her watch. “They are late.”

  The milk float turned into the inn gates. The milkman walked beside his horse, patting it on the rump. The bottles clinked. Noticing nothing wrong, he came right inside, only pausing when he heard movement behind him. Karlovy stepped up to him. Inside the inn they could not hear what he said, but the milkman visibly blanched, then led his float towards the side of the building, escorted by one of Karlovy’s men.

  “We are running out of time,” Berkeley said.

  “They will be here. They . . . Listen.”

  They heard the clatter of hooves, the rumble of wheels. A moment later, two dragoons rode into the yard and drew rein, looking left and right; they wore pale blue capes over red breeches, and crested black helmets. Their carbines were slung on their backs. With Karlovy and his men concealed, there was nothing out of the ordinary. The second dragoon had remained at the gate, and now he waved his arm. The rumbling grew louder and the two wagons rolled through the gate into the yard, their escort to either side and behind. “Now,” Anna said.

  Lockwood glanced at Berkeley, and received a quick nod. He began cranking the handle and the Hotchkiss emitted a hail of bullets. The two lead dragoons, one already dismounting, were the first to fall. Then the gun was moving to fire into the escort.

  “The drivers,” Anna shouted.

  Berkeley levelled his rifle and fired, and one of the men on the driving seat of the first wagon uttered a shriek and fell. The other also went down, by whose shot he didn’t know. Those on the second wagon attempted to turn their vehicle but were cut down by Karlovy’s people. The dragoons at the rear swung their horses to escape the hail of bullets, but they too were scattered left and right by the r
ifles. Only one appeared to be unhurt as he galloped the length of the street towards the military post.

  “He will alarm them,” Berkeley said.

  “Six men and a sergeant?” Anna said, contemptuously. The sound of the firing and the cries of the wounded and dying men had awakened the town. Shouting people joined the barking dogs, but as Karlovy sent two shots down the street no one came to investigate. “Hurry. Lockwood, stay with the gun.” Anna ran out of the building. There were bodies scattered everywhere; the cobbles were red with blood. The dragoon captain rolled on his side, groaning as he reached for the revolver he had dropped when he fell. Anna levelled her own pistol and shot him through the head. “Hurry,” she shouted again, her voice unemotional.

  Two of Karlovy’s men ran to the horses to fetch the saddlebags. Karlovy himself kept the gate watching the street, and occasionally firing at anyone who showed himself. Berkeley joined Anna and the third man to tear open the canvas hoods of the wagons, exposing the boxes inside. These were locked, but were opened by shots from the rifles. Inside were both paper and coin,

  “Take the paper,” Anna commanded, and the saddlebags were packed.

  “Action,” Karlovy called.

  “Get the gun down there,” Anna said.

  Two of the men ran to the inn and helped Lockwood manhandle the Hotchkiss down to the gate.

  “Keep your head down, Harry,” Berkeley called.

  As each saddlebag was loaded it was taken to one of the horses; these had now been brought out into the yard.

  The first wagon was empty, save for a few scattered notes, and the silver.

  “Now the other,” Anna said.

  “Don’t you think we have enough?” Berkeley asked.

  “No,” she said, clambering into the second wagon in a flutter of skirts.

  At the gate Lockwood was cranking a stream of bullets down the street. Karlovy was still firing his rifle. The town had become a huge hubbub of sound: people shouting, women and children screaming, dogs barking, horses neighing. Anna kept on calmly filling saddlebag after saddlebag,

  Now there were shots from along the street, as the garrison post finally began to return fire. They also heard the clatter of hooves.

  “They’ve sent for help,” Karlovy said. “We’d better be off.”

  Anna nodded. “That’s enough.” She watched the last of the horses being loaded. “We need a rearguard.”

  “Lockwood and I will see to it,” Berkeley said.

  “One man will do, with the Hotchkiss.”

  “If Lockwood stays, I stay,” Berkeley said.

  She considered him for several seconds. “And what am I to tell Caterina?” she asked at last.

  “I will tell her myself,” he said.

  Another brief hesitation. Then she reached up and kissed his cheek. “I believe you will. When you leave here, ride to the west. You will catch us up.”

  She signalled her men and they all mounted.

  “God go with you, Englishman,” Karlovy said.

  *

  Berkeley knelt beside the perspiring Lockwood. “Any sign of them?”

  “Not at the moment, sir.”

  The street was empty, save for two or three bodies sprawled in the agony of death.

  “Civilians?” Berkeley asked.

  “They got in the line of fire, sir. It’s a right fuck-up.”

  “It was always likely to happen,” Berkeley said. “Open up again.”

  “No target, sir. And there’s not all that much ammo left.”

  “Then let’s get rid of it.” Berkeley ran back to where the two horses waited restlessly. The milkman was looking round the corner of the building; when he saw Berkeley he hastily ducked back again. From the upstairs of the inn there was now a considerable noise as the innkeeper and his family and friends got free. The dog started to bark again.

  “Let’s go, Harry,” Berkeley shouted.

  Lockwood sent a last rattle of bullets down the street, then left the gun and ran to his horse, vaulting into the saddle. They rode round the back of the building, past the terrified milkman, and jumped their horses over the low fence at the rear. Beyond was open country, and they galloped their horses as close due west as they could calculate, away from the rising sun. Behind them some shots were fired, but none came even close.

  “Well sir,” Lockwood panted, “I reckon Jesse James would have been proud of that.”

  “Let’s get across the border before we start congratulating ourselves,” Berkeley suggested. “Where the hell are the others?”

  But a few minutes later they saw Anna, sitting on her horse on a slight rise, waving her hat.

  *

  “A great coup,” Anna cried as they rode along. “A great victory. When the news of this reaches Vienna, that ghastly old man will have a seizure. Now we turn south, for the border.”

  “How far?”

  “Forty miles.”

  “Then we had best slow down. The horses won’t last.”

  “That is why we have the remounts.”

  “And the Austrian army?”

  “We must outrun them.”

  She was totally confident. But so were her men, chortling to each other as they rode along; one had even brought a bottle of wine, and this was passed to and fro.

  They topped a rise, and Anna drew rein to give the horses a much needed breather. Steam surrounded them from the sweating, panting beasts. Anna had a pair of binoculars, and with these she swept the country both before and behind them. “No pursuit,” she said. “They think we are too strong. Our only problem is that galloper they got away.” She studied the south-east. “No movement there, either.”

  “They will make for the border,” Karlovy said.

  “No doubt. How far have we come?”

  “Twenty miles, maybe. Do we change horses now?”

  “No. We will keep these for a while, and change when we know we will have to gallop.”

  They resumed their journey, at a slower pace now.

  “This is the border with Serbia, we are seeking?” Berkeley asked.

  “It is the border with Slovenia. The Austrians regard it as a province.”

  “Then will not the army follow us there?”

  “They will not find it easy, except in strength. The Slovenes prefer to think of themselves as independent. Anyway, where we are going it is not far – only about five miles – from Serbia. We will make it, Berkeley.”

  He could only hope she was right. Now they either walked or cantered their horses. They came to a village and even stopped at the inn for a meal, as it was midday. Anna continued with her story that they were a hunting party, only now returning from Lake Balaton. No one appeared to find anything suspicious about them. But much, Berkeley thought, might depend on how far the Austrian army had developed the use of the new wireless telegraphy.

  In the middle of the afternoon the ground fell away to the plain, and with Anna’s glasses they could make out the wide, deep River Drava. “That is the border,” Anna said.

  “And there is the bridge, with a squadron of dragoons guarding it,” Berkeley pointed out.

  “But we are not going to use the bridge.”

  “You reckon on swimming our horses across? That river must be five hundred yards wide.”

  “But you see, it bends. There.” She pointed. “At that point it ceases to be the border, which continues to the east until just south of Mohacs. That is then the border with Serbia.”

  Berkeley used the glasses. “There is water down there as well.”

  “It is just a stream. We will cross it without difficulty.”

  “And those Austrian soldiers?” He pointed.

  She took the glasses back, refocussed them, then gave them to Karlovy. “What do you reckon?”

  Karlovy studied the situation for several minutes. “A company of foot,” he said. “And a squadron of horse. Marching west.” He swung the glasses. “There is another body further to the east. But it is about two miles dist
ant.”

  “And the border is two miles further on,” Anna said. “That gap is where we shall make our break. We will change horses, now.”

  They unsaddled their weary mounts and saddled the remounts.

  “We need a diversion,” Karlovy said, “to draw off the cavalry.” He looked at his men.

  “I will do it,” one of them said.

  “You understand they will hunt you down?”

  “If they can,” the man said.

  “Very well. We will go down to that little wood. Lead your horses.”

  They made their way down the slope, keeping to gullies and the protection of the trees until they reached the plain, still sheltered by a small wood. Now the first contingent of Austrians was to the right, the cavalry walking their horses behind the infantry. They looked smart but Berkeley thought there was a certain lack of discipline. That had to be to the fugitives’ advantage.

  “Walk your horses to the far edge of the wood,” Karlovy said to the decoy, “and then ride like hell. Once your free animals are at the gallop, detach yourself and double back. By then, those of the enemy who have not followed you will be following us. If you remain here until dark, you should be able to get across.”

  The man nodded, gathered up the reins of the rejects and walked them through the trees.

  “Will he make it?” Berkeley asked.

  “If he is lucky. Now, be ready.”

  They waited until the decoy reached the end of the wood. Then he burst out with the horses behind him, neighing and galloping. Instantly there was a bugle call from in front of them, and half of the cavalry detached themselves to give chase.

  “Only half,” Anna said in disgust.

  “That is the best we could expect. Go!”

  “Stay beside me, Berkeley,” she said, and kicked her fresh mount forward. Berkeley obeyed, knowing that Lockwood would be at his shoulder. They galloped out from the trees and made straight for the water. Now there were bugle calls from their left as well, as the second Austrian body saw them. But in front of them was the shallow water of the stream. They splashed across this and out the far side. Now shots were fired, but at this distance and from the back of a galloping horse it was impossible to hit anything.

  “We are there!” Anna shouted, rising in her saddle to wave her hat.