The Golden Portifor - 32. Chapter 32

Andreas Wittig led his troop of the Prinzengarde at full gallop along the highway to Vorplatzenberg from Mittenheim. The sky was lightening behind them as they crested the ridge above the suburb of Sankt Hubert. Andreas reined in and looked back across the river to the dark mass of the city. He called over the Prinzengarde sergeant he had selected for this mission, a talented youth not yet twenty but a formidable marksman and terrifying swordsman.

He pointed across the hilly countryside through which the road snaked, rose and dipped to reach the frontier. ‘Piotr, I can’t see no fires yet in that direction, so if the enemy is in Mittenheim and marching on the city, they’re being unusually civil and considerate for soldiers. So I’d say the buggers are still snoring and farting in their blankets. Likely enough they’re delayed by digging siege lines if, as we hope, the fortress resisted them. We can take the road at full tilt for a few miles in that case. After that, it’ll be a dangerous ride. We may have to leave the road and be more cautious in a while.’

‘Yes sir, my lord,’ the man replied.

‘Very good. Now it happens that the cuirassiers of the Bavarian army also wear white coats with a variety of facings. So I want you to get our troopers to remove their Ruritanian cockades, and case that guidon of ours. If we get the chance, we may need to became good little subjects of the Elector Max for a while. Follow me?’

The young man grinned. ‘Absolutely, my lord. To the death.’

Andreas spurred Orcus, his favourite black stallion, down the road as it wound down the back slope of the ridge. He and his troop galloped like the wind through the next village, where peasants were emerging to begin the day’s labour and the church was chiming the angelus. They blinked with astonishment as the soldiers thundered past. Reckless for a while they kept up the mad pace, and since the road to the frontier was good and dry their mounts did not complain for the five miles they covered. But at the cresting of the next ridge some were labouring, and Andreas reined in.

‘Sergeant, a respite. Still no sign ahead. No pillars of smoke from marauders and no scouts out this far, apparently. What d’yer think, Piotr?’

‘My lord, I think it would be unwise to assume they’re going to slow down to pillage the farms and villages on their way to the city. I’d think they’ll send their best cavalry out in advance, and leave the sacking and thievery to the footsloggers behind.’

‘Hmm, and since they need light to scout properly, their fellows wouldn’t leave till first light.’ Andreas pulled out and consulted the watch Serge had given him some days before they left Strelsau for Mittenheim, observing that he’d learned from his own experience it was an essential tool for any officer. It had taken a while for Jan Lisku to explain to the boy how time was measured. But, as with all things Andreas regarded as essential for his chosen occupation, he had applied himself diligently.

He snapped closed the lid of the timepiece. ‘Sunrise was at half past four,’ he observed. ‘It’s been well past an hour since then by the reckoning of this machine. Say they go at a cautious canter, which they will since they’ll be riding through enemy territory. It’s a road of twenty-five miles and we’re over two hours now from Mittenheim and we’ve been travelling at speed, so it would seem to me that we must have already passed over a third the way. And we’ll likely meet them in four or five miles if we carry on at a canter. Agreed, Piotr?’

The NCO did his own internal calculation and then nodded. ‘What do you propose, my lord?’

‘Well, sergeant, you will notice the first distant spirals of smoke rising into the morning sky over that hill yonder, which I would think is the fortress of Vorplatzenberg under assault. Was that a rumble of distant gunfire to your ear?’

‘Yes, my lord. Could be ours or theirs, but it’s guns alright.’

‘Then time to select your fellow with the strongest mount and tell him to return at a brisk canter to His Royal Highness. Tell him that the Bavarians are indeed in the Duchy and the fortress of Vorplatzenberg resists. He is to report that I am proposing to gather as much intelligence as I can of their strength. Now send your fellow off. Tell him to raise the alarm as he rides through the villages. The folk hereabouts need to get their animals and possessions inside their churches.’

Andreas watched the trooper set off back down the road to Mittenheim in a scatter of dust. He turned to the west, a grim smile on his handsome face.

***

Serge had gone back in haste to his quarters to arm himself and assume his uniform. Karl came running into his suite in time to assist.

‘I heard a cannon, sir! Is it the enemy?’

‘No, young Karl. It was a warning shot from the fort up on the hill above Sankt Hubert. That means it’s had certain news of an invasion. Go get your own regimentals on. It looks like we’re off to battle again.’

‘I hopes Ando’s alright, sir,’ the boy observed.

‘If anyone’s going to come through this unscathed, I’d put my money on Captain the Freiherr Wittig von Bernenstein. I’d wager it’s he who was responsible for that warning.’

‘My stuff’s stored across in the stables, sir. I’ll go saddle and fetch Brunhild and Erebus. I’ll be waiting in the Outer Court whenever you’re ready, my lord.’

‘Good lad. Now, off you go. Have you seen my lord of Strelsau?’

‘Er ... yes, sir. He was in the prince’s antechamber.’

‘Hmm. He must have gone by the time I left the prince. When you see Master Jan, tell him to start packing my gear, one way or another I believe our stay in Mittenheim has come to an end. He is to join the exodus eastwards towards Strelsau; I don’t want him getting caught up in a siege of this city. And after that run over to the North Citadel. My lord Mehmed needs to decide whether he wants to join in the amusement of Christians killing one another. I’ll join you in the Outer Court as soon as the prince hands me his orders. Then we ride.’

‘Where to, my lord?’

‘Why, to arrest a traitor of course.’

***

Wilchin trotted to keep up with Willi von Strelsau, having returned to his company after parting with Karl. Since he was not his servant, Wilchin saw no reason not to chat with his excellency the Count of Strelsau as he liked. ‘So, yer has no servants, my lord, even though yer’s a Graf and all?’

‘No, imp. Much to my own surprise I’m now a recognised member of the royal family, which means that all those people in olive green you see swarming about here are mine to command.’

‘Karlo says him and his lord’s servants do most of your laundry and stuff when you’re in Strelsau.’

‘Hmph. It’s convenient enough and Lord Serge is kind to help me. Graf though I may now be, I’ve not had any money to pay anyone with till lately.’

‘I’m looking for a post, my lord. Could be a pretty good groom, if you’re interested.’

Willi surveyed Wilchin. ‘Child, you need to work on your diction before I could employ you.’

‘Me what?’

‘Never mind. I suppose you have talents no normal groom would have, such as ...?’

‘Well my lord, I has a talent for deception, more than usual in a servant I’d say.’

‘Not a promising start ... go on.’

‘I understands and speaks every language there is.’

‘But not grammatically, I fear.’

‘As yer says, my lord. Can’t write or read though. Still, I am pretty healthy and never likely to get sick.’

Willi stopped in his tracks, curious. ‘And why is that, Master Wilchin?’

‘Well sir, that’d be telling. But wiv Jonas I been to some strange places and met some even stranger people, many of ‘em not exactly people as such. I been to the place that my lord Phoebus’s grandad broke into, though I got away again wiv some benefits, unlike him.’

‘And who really is this Jonas? An elf, you boys say.’

Wilchin scratched his head. ‘He’s a prince amongst elves, sir, not just any elf. That I know. But Jonas can be close-mouthed when it suits him and he don’t share his story. When yer knows him, yer respects that. We’ve not yet seen much more than his jokes and laughter, but I’m sure there a lot more to him than he’ll ever show or tell, unless he has to.’

Willi sighed. ‘I should have paid more attention to the creature when he was still with us. But his dazzling beauty tended to drive everything out of your mind when you looked at him. That should have been enough of a clue. It was inhuman; truly so as it now appears.’

They had by now reached the prince’s state rooms, and Willi passed the doors, pages bowing as the Lord Chamberlain passed. Wilchin tagged along after him as if he had every right, though even he was taken aback when they encountered Prince Henry leaving his suite in the other direction. The prince had assumed a cuirass and gorget and was bearing his staff of command.

‘Ah Willi! There you are. Just in time. I’m off up to the hills above Sankt Hubert. We’ve had word from young Captain von Bernenstein. We can expect the first assault on our lines by mid afternoon, according to his information. You might just be in time to say your farewells to Phoebus, Willi. He has assumed command of the Prinzengarde, since Colonel Barkozy cannot be found anywhere. That tells us that his master, Dudley, is indeed going for broke and Barkozy’s thrown in with him. I’ll have the man hung if I catch him, or maybe I’ll give him to the pasha to play with.’

‘And what is Lord Serge’s mission, sire?’

‘Why, to run the swine Dudley to ground. He has a warrant for his arrest. The problem is that the damnable traitor has ridden off with our cavalry brigade and will be doing his best to make sure it will not be in any place where it can help us when the Bavarians commence their assault. If his scheme succeeds, he won’t need to fear apprehension.’

‘Command of the Prinzengarde is not a distinction that our Phoebus will much relish, sire,’ Willi observed. ‘He was always a reluctant soldier.’

The prince shrugged. ‘It’s his Tarlenheim loyalty I prize in the narrow place we now are. I’m not asking him to lead the regiment into battle, am I?’

‘And why send him with one of your last cavalry regiments?’

‘Ever curious, eh Willi? And ever observant. We shall see, won’t we.’ Laughing in his carefree way and apparently quite unmoved by their predicament, the prince continued on his way to the Outer Court, his aides-de-camp forming after him.

Wilchin chirped up as Willi stared after his cousin. ‘I thinks you and I better go find Karlo, sir. He’s quiet is Karlo, but he’s a clever one. He’ll have thought up a plan by now. ‘Spect he’ll be talking it through with Brunhild.’

Willi spun around on the boy, his eyebrow raised. ‘Brunhild? His horse?’

‘Ah sir, now that’s another long story.’

***

‘Good work, Piotr,’ said Andreas. ‘Very alert of you.’

‘Thank you, my lord,’ replied his sergeant, who had just returned from observing the last of the enemy disappearing up the road to Mittenheim. ‘But it was luck. A lot of our boys in the Prinzengarde are from Mittenheim, and enlisted so we could be in our Red Elphberg’s guard, after he was made our duke. Me and a couple of the lads know about this stretch of woodland, and the old iron workings that made these deep trenches. I played in them myself when I was a kid. But these Bavarians wouldn’t know you could hide a regiment of cavalry in here.’

Andreas smiled with satisfaction. ‘And so they rode right past us, and now we’re well behind their lines.’

‘So what next, sir?’

‘Their infantry and artillery will be toiling behind their advance units. So we can do all sorts of mischief if we like. But I think our prince would want us to collect as much information as we can, that and take any useful prisoners that might come our way. But first we need to become Bavarians. So let’s picket our squadron along the road, all peaceful like we’re at rest, and see who turns up.’

Quarter of an hour later, a rumble from the west announced the approach of a train of artillery. With barely a look their way, the train passed them by. Piotr Welsch, Andreas’s sergeant, made a cheery wave in their direction with a clay pipe he’d lit up, while Andreas himself made a pantomime of inspecting the hooves of several of the horses. The end of the train was a line of ammunition carts, and the rear wagon, as was customary, was marked by a flag; in this case it was the Ordinarfahne, the blue and white lozenges of Bavaria. Piotr casually lifted it from the wagon as it passed by. He handed it to his corporal, and it became their temporary guidon as they trotted on westward.

They began passing infantry columns and took to the broad grass verges along the post road, Andreas exchanging amiable salutes and cries of ‘Grüss Gott!’ with the mounted infantry officers. He began memorising the standards of each regiment and the numbers of units. In mid-afternoon they crested a rise and in a loop of the Ebrendt below them they saw the star of the fortress of Vorplatzenberg. It was wreathed with smoke and the little town downriver of it was in flames.

‘The fortress is surrounded but I don’t think the enemy is contemplating an assault, do you Piotr?’

‘No my lord. But they’ve left a lot of their guns here to pound the place and keep it contained.’

‘The artillery train we passed on the road was only about two companies by my count. Maybe 12 guns, no more.’

‘That’s a weakness the prince needs to know about, sir.’

‘Hmm. Though their line regiments will have pieces of their own of course. Time to return up the road, Piotr?’

‘I think so, my lord. We’ll make it back to our own lines before nightfall.’

‘And then we’ll need to cross them to get back to our comrades. But one thing at a time.’

Taking it easy on their mounts and perfectly untroubled on the road, since they were heading towards the Ruritanian enemy, Andreas’s troop began to encounter troops taking up positions as the sun sank in the west and the sky began to darken. ‘Over the ridge there is Sankt Hubert,’ observed his sergeant, ‘and that’s where we need to go.’

They reined in at the roadside and Andreas had time to grow a little uncomfortable, for Bavarian troops were marching past them with provosts at hand to direct their position. His disguised Ruritanian troop would very soon be noticed and was decidedly out of place.

‘Hoch! Hoch!’ came a shout from the road below, and a galloping officer drew up in front of them.

‘You sir!’ he addressed Andreas. ‘Where do I find General Gumpp? Quickly now. I have despatches.’

Andreas saluted and put on the courtly manner that he had been acquiring over the summer, with the help of the young ladies of the court, where his looks and exploits had made him particularly celebrated. He had also taken several opportunities to introduce himself to the more intimate parts of the female anatomy, since they were on offer, with no discredit to him and much to Karl’s amusement.

‘My dear sir,’ he said, ‘this could not be better. We are on our way to take our turn as the general’s escort. Ride along with us.’

‘Oh, very good. Thank you captain,’ came the reply. ‘It’s getting damnable dark now.’

‘Gentlemen!’ Andreas called out. ‘Mount up!’

With the aide at Andreas’s side, the Prinzengarde jingled off up the road. ‘Ah! I see you fellows are of the Graf von Arco’s Horse.’

Andreas’s mind was voracious in absorbing every military detail that came his way, including the order of battle of the Bavarian Army. So he wasn’t in the least thrown by this spurious identification. ‘Indeed sir, we are detached from His Excellency the Graf’s own life company.’

‘Are we in contact with the enemy?’ the officer asked.

‘I believe they’re within spitting distance of you, sir,’ Andreas replied with a smile. ‘Should we carry on this road towards the ridge, we’ll be among them in less than five minutes. So we should rein in, for we are at our pickets.’

‘And where’s the general?’

‘Damned if I know,’ Andreas replied, and punched the man hard in the face. His sergeant adroitly caught the man as he sagged in his saddle, removed his despatch case and let him fall in the road.

‘Now fellows!’ Andreas called back to his men in his clear young voice. ‘Ride for the hill and the safety of our lines!’

Thundering after their captain, the Prinzengarde rode down the Bavarian pickets and onwards up the way to the outer forts of Mittenheim and the Ruritanian lines. Some random shots pursued them though the surprise was total. But, as Andreas knew, the danger was not behind them but would come from their friends to the front.

He began bellowing in the country speech: ‘Bozh fur den Cherven Elphberg!’ It was all he could think of. No Bavarian troops would shout that. His men shouted behind him ‘Der Prinzengarde! Der Prinzengarde!’ Struck by inspiration he drew the sword of Fäerie, raising it high over his head. He felt the mystical weapon vibrate in his hand. The world around him seemed to slow, and it was as though he and his men were galloping in slow motion through the thickest of soupy fogs. He had the strange feeling that he was seeing musket balls floating past him, no faster than a lazy fly on a summer afternoon; he flicked his head to let one buzz past his left ear. And then the feeling eased and he drew up Orcus amongst soldiers in Ruritanian blue. ‘Captain Wittig von Bernenstein of the Prinzengarde,’ he gasped out. ‘Where’s His Royal Highness?’

***

Out of the corner of his eye, Serge kept catching Mehmed Pasha grinning to himself as they rode side by side at the head of the column of the Prinzengarde, four hundred cuirassiers jingling behind them.

‘Stop it,’ he finally complained. ‘You’re enjoying this.’

‘What?’ the pasha queried, grinning.

‘Me so far out of my depth as to be commanding a regiment.’

‘Perhaps, but your prince really had no choice.’

‘And why’s that?’

‘I believe that their colonel, the man Barkozy, is quite popular in his regiment, as also is the rebel and traitor who raised and trained it. So anyone else might experience trouble in leading these men behind you to the arrest of those very men, but not you.’

Intrigued, Serge had to ask. ‘And why’s that?’

‘You have a certain ... profile, most of which you owe to me I have to say. Your deeds on the field of Basovizza have earned you fame of a sort. Had I my way, of course, your career would have ended there. But circumstances dictated otherwise. And then you are of the house of Tarlenheim, which I have learned is a name of some power in your land. They will therefore obey you, when a lesser man might find himself questioned.’

‘That’s comforting, I suppose. But what in God’s name will I do if we come to a dispute or if we encounter the Bavarians?’

‘You have a second major here who seems competent and not that enamoured of Barkozy, whom he wants to replace as lieutenant-colonel. Your last resort is of course myself. Count on me to prompt you. I take it these displays of nervousness are a symptom you really have no clue how to apprehend these men, or where the troops they are leading may have been hidden away.’

‘True enough, Mehmed. All I know is they took the road north.’

‘Hmm. Were I the traitor Dudley, I would give out to my subordinates that the prince had instructed him to take a position to lay in wait for the Bavarians and entrap them, and then march them to a place where they would be unable to assist when his officers began to question why they weren’t heading towards the sound of cannon fire in the distance. In my armies I had all too many pashas who would do exactly that without any treason being in their minds, such as they were. Wilful and arrogant generals with no sense are too common in all armies in all ages of the world. But at least there will be reason behind this man Dudley’s plan, for I take him to be more than averagely competent as a commander.’

‘So if he is taking rational decisions, there is a chance we can use reason to shadow his march?’

‘Quite so, my dear infidel. Verstand. Your favourite German word. Now I know you read much and store all of it in that handsome head of yours. You’ve been poring over maps of late, so is there a road you could take from the city of Mittenheim leading you in a direction that would not make the officers riding alongside you immediately suspicious, but which would eventually take them beyond the chance of helping the prince?’

Serge pondered a while. ‘The roads from Mittenheim radiate to all points of the compass. But he must go north to cross the river, and indeed that was the direction his column was observed to take when it left the city, along the post road to Ebersfeld, which we are now on in pursuit. But then he would eventually need to veer eastward or he might otherwise end up in a place where his men might actually be useful to His Royal Highness.’

‘So there you are. And which road do you think he might have taken?’

Serge considered further before eventually speculating. ‘He would be heading into the north eastern part of the duchy of Mittenheim, a land cut through by many valleys running in a southwesterly direction towards the Ebrendt into which their small rivers empty. At their northern ends they run into a cross ridge, the great hilly moor of the Eberstenwald which is the border with the Ruritanian province of Merz. Several of these would be perfect for his purposes, as they would lead him away from the capital of the province and from the coming battle. And he must leave the principal route, the post road, as questions would soon be raised in the minds of his officers as to why they were on a route that would take them clean out of the province.’

Serge hesitated, then continued. ‘He would take the road up the final valley before the post road left the duchy of Mittenheim. It’s the valley of a rivulet called the Alauth. It has no town of any distinction in its fifteen-mile length, but it runs parallel to the post road to its east, and would take him just as surely away from the action. Also it is deeper cut than the others, and so is less exposed to the sound of the distant rumble of battle.’

‘Very well, then we must ride for this Alauth valley, and step up the pace. The evidence that horses leave of their passage will soon tell us if the man Dudley did what you think he did.’

‘No Mehmed. Afternoon is wearing on, and we must catch him. If I’m right, there is a chance we may yet cut him off. He’s over an hour ahead of us by now, and I doubt he’s sparing his mounts. He has no horse artillery to slow him down. See that bluff ahead? It’s the opening of the valley preceding the Alauth, a rather broader one named for the Vahnensee that lies in its upper reaches. It’s an easy ride up to the eastern ridge top. We can cut off an entire corner of Dudley’s route. We’d just better hope it is the Alauth he will take.’

***

Prince Henry of Ruritania had taken up a command post on the crest of the ridge between two of the perimeter forts of the Mittenheim defences. They had no names as yet, but had been designated as Forts No 3 and No 4. They were hilltop round towers broached at two levels by deep gun ports, with at their base four lunettes each housing batteries of six guns. The road from Vorplatzenberg ran right between them and then down to the city below.

At the roadside the prince had set up his pavilion, under which he was sitting in a chair grimly surveying the distant approach of the Bavarians through his telescope. He had marched the entire garrison up to the ridge to form a line, but had no reserves and was sadly outnumbered. The sun was setting before him, and the clouds in the western sky were lit up pink by its dying rays. It was at that point that a rattle of gunfire rose from the hillside below. An assault? Not possible. The Bavarians could not marshal their full strength before dark fell.

The prince stood. But before he could despatch an aide to find out the cause of the outbreak, the sound of cheering came from along the lines below him. In a few moments a troop of horse could be seen wearily climbing up the road towards him, other units adding their cheers as the riders passed. Captain Andreas Wittig von Bernenstein raised his hat in acknowledgment as he rode. He dismounted at the pavilion and made his bow.

The prince grinned despite himself. ‘So my lord. You’re back. I didn’t quite expect your return to be as direct. Make your report.’

‘Your royal highness. We made it back safe, though we lost one horse riding the Bavarians down to get here. No casualties otherwise. We made it as far as Vorplatzenberg, and found it besieged but resisting. I have a list of units we observed drawn up by my sergeant, and we had the good fortune to encounter a staff officer with despatches for General Gumpp, which I dispossessed him of. But sire, you should know that Gumpp has left many of his guns at Vorplatzenberg, and though he may be stronger than us in other arms, he is now weak in artillery.’

‘My dear captain, you do nothing but astonish. Only the devil’s luck could have brought you back through an entire Bavarian army.’

‘I’d put it down to pure cheek, highness,’ the boy answered. ‘Could I bring to your attention the conduct of my sergeant, Piotr Welsch, a man of cool nerve and great bravery to whom the success of my mission is largely due.’

Prince Henry looked kindly on the boy. ‘The most praiseworthy thing about praiseworthy men, is how they deflect praise on their subordinates. What do you suggest, sir?’

‘He’d make a good ensign, highness. The men look up to him.’

‘Then ensign he shall be when the rest of your regiment returns to us, which God willing will be before tomorrow’s dawn. Now sir, you and your men should go and get some food and rest. You deserve and need it. Tomorrow will tax us all to the limit, I have no doubt.’

Prince Henry took the captured despatches and called for General Antonovic, then he turned to the table under his pavilion and pored over the map laid upon it, as servants brought and hung oil lamps within. His eyes widened when he opened the sealed despatches and read what they contained.

***

The sun was dipping to the horizon as the Prinzengarde crested the eastern ridge of the Vahnendaal. Serge called a halt to the march and sat Erebus beside Karl Wollherz, who had brought up his telescope. But neither by unassisted eye nor by glass did he have any luck scrutinising the dark slot of the Alauth valley below. Mehmed and his second major joined him.

‘I can’t see much down there,’ the major said glumly.

‘Time will tell,’ Serge said collapsing his telescope, ‘a quarter of an hour’s rest and then we’ll ride down into the valley and see what’s to be seen.’

Mehmed seemed cheerful enough. When asked why, he laughed and said his mood always lightened when he sensed battle ahead.

‘You’re like some predatory beast, sniffing the scent of blood in the air,’ Serge stated, but somehow the Turk’s fierce optimism lifted him.

They encountered a shepherd as the column descended slowly down a steep incline to the floor of the Alauthendaal. Serge raised his hat to the man, who it seemed was a Rothenian, and was charmed to be addressed in his own tongue.

‘Don’t get many of the gentry in this land able to speak our language, my lord,’ he said ruefully.

‘I had no idea Rothenians lived any numbers in Mittenheim,’ Serge said.

‘Oh sir, most of the shepherds in these parts are Rothenians. My good grandfather and many others came to these hills in the bad old days when the Swedes burned their way through Merz, and we’re making a living here.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. Now tell me, have you seen other soldiers pass by below?’

Serge’s heart pulsed when the man nodded. ‘Many horsemen rode up the dale not that long ago.’

‘Have you any idea how long?’

‘I saw them from the ridge top, and it’s been long enough that I could walk down to the sheepfold by the stream.’ He indicated a drystone wall and shed amongst trees nearby.

Serge looked uphill and down. Then he called over to his officers. ‘They passed by less than twenty minutes ago! Fellow, our thanks!’ He spurred Erebus on to the road that passed up the dale along the Alauth stream.

The road soon gave abundant confirmation that a body of horsemen had recently passed by. As the daylight disappeared from the sky, a challenge came from ahead, where campfires were appearing in roadside fields. Dudley had pushed his men on as far as he could that day, to distance them from where they could be useful to Prince Henry.

‘Who goes there!’

‘The Prinzengarde! Let us by in the king’s name!’ Serge called back.