Gathering at the river.

Hetzenberg gunboat Acheron, from a drawing

by

Lieutenant Mary Amadeus, circa 1750.

*

“Baron Tapfer was a good man, brave and competent,” Count Ostenberg said. “He had something of a reputation with the ladies, I believe; but as he was widowed some years ago no one minded his ways. It’s of a piece with his bravery that he should save the life of Despotissa Theofilia at the cost of his own.”

Grand Duke Karl nodded. “Yes, all credit to him for that. Does he have any surviving family?”

“Yes, there’s a son in the Foot Guards, and another studying in Paris I think.”

Karl turned to his secretary, who was taking the minutes of the meeting. “Please see that a suitable letter of condolence is drafted for them in my name, and I’ll append my signature and seal.”

The secretary nodded and made a note of the order. Karl turned back to the table. “Of course, we shall require clarification of the situation that led to his death before we can formulate a suitable response to the outrage.”

Ostenberg nodded. “Yes, Your Grace, although it will take time. Communications between here and Morea are slow at best. Judging from the Baron’s last report it’s all of a piece with the instability in the region. Messengers are waylaid and even quite strong bodies of troops attacked by bandits. Vessels sailing those waters are always at risk from piracy and roving letters of marque. Even so, it is still quite a shock to learn of a direct attack on the person of the Despotissa.” He grimaced. “Her arm wound is said to be severe. It may be that she has already passed away from the shock. If not, she will bear a grave injury, perhaps even lose the limb: A horrid thing for a woman to contemplate.”

“What do you suggest, Count?”

Ostenberg pursed his lips. “We shall have to replace Tapfer with a new representative who will report on the state of affairs in Morea. I confess I’ve been keeping a watching brief on the Mediterranean ever since the Letter from Vienna arrived. Any major eruption of hostilities in the theater will necessarily impinge upon us here in time. A set of eyes and ears in Morea will give us advance warning.”

“Quite so.” Karl thought. “At the moment we have too much close at hand to command our attention to spare much more thought for the situation there. Please select a number of names to put forward for the position of ambassador to the Principality of Morea and we shall discuss their capabilities at a later date. In the meantime I shall grant Baron Tapfer a posthumous award of the Order of High Distinction. Perhaps his son will accept it on his father’s behalf.”

Ostenberg nodded. “I’ll make arrangements, Your Grace.”

“Good. Now; to other matters…”

* * *

General Rauppen-Schlepper’s staff watched as he bent over the map showing the Eisenwasser Valley. The headquarters pavilion was silent as all present concentrated on their chief. Rauppen-Schlepper pursed his lips. “The Gravies may attempt a delaying action here.” He placed a finger on a point where the Wohl Hills came within two miles of the river. “The highway between Wohl and Wentwitz runs through there, and it’s an ideal spot for them to fight a delaying action. If the Gravies can gain that road within the next two days they’ll move faster and in better order than we can. By delaying us for long enough they can take Wentwitz and cross the river to safety.” He looked up at them from beneath beetling brows. “We cannot permit that to happen, gentlemen.”

“We have the advantage of the river, sir,” Captain Scharfe pointed out, peering down at the map. “It may be possible to convey troops by means of the riverine flotilla to that point before the Gravies can reach it. Even a regiment or two supported by the guns of the flotilla would disrupt any attempt they make to block our advance.”

“Can those boats carry enough men in time?”

“I confess I don’t know, sir. I’d suggest speaking to Captain Creighton about that.”

General Rauppen-Schlepper nodded. “Take a message. To Captain Creighton, commanding the gunboat flotilla. Sir, I would be most obliged if you would attend upon my headquarters at your earliest convenience to discuss a plan of co-operation between army and navy. Your humble servant, etc. etc.”

A staccato rattle of musketry sounded in the distance. General Rauppen-Schlepper looked up then glanced at his fob watch. “Ah, that’ll be the picket lines. Punctual as ever.” He gave his staff a wintry smile. “A new day begins, gentlemen! Let us be about our business.”

* * *

Ursula woke up to full morning in Horatio’s cot, feeling warm and drowsy and so very content. Rolling over she yawned, stretched then winced as a certain soreness made itself felt. What a night that was! She thought, lying there, gazing up at the deck overhead. Feet clumped around up there and the little gimbaled chronometer and compass mounted on the bulwark nearby told her it was nine of the clock and that they were sailing north-westward. She yawned again as she looked up at the stern-lights above her head and tried to judge whereabouts Acheron was on the river. She gave it up as a bad job just as Horatio appeared bearing a mug of coffee.

“Good morning, lover!” he said softly, coming to the cot side.

“Good morning yourself!” she purred, sitting up and wrapping her arms around his neck. Pulling him close she kissed him long and deep as he set aside the mug and began to caress her body. Horatio’s touch sparked new feelings and she pulled him down onto the cot and slid her arms under his coat. He allowed her to play for a few moments then groaned and drew away. “Oh, I wish I could stay in bed with you all day and night but duty calls.”

She gave him a sad smile. “I know. It was naughty of me to tempt you.”

“You can be as naughty as you like later,” he whispered, squashing the tip of her nose with his finger.

“Promise?” she said brightly, picking up the heavenly-scented mug of coffee.

“Oh yes!”

She sipped. “Mmm! What with this delightful bedside service and your promise, I think I’ll keep you around.”

Horatio chuckled. “Thank you for that!” He glanced out of the stern-lights. “We’re drawing nigh to Viehdorf, darling. The lookout sighted the barges tied up on the shore and taking on the wounded. We should reach the village in an hour.”

“And what shall we do then?” she asked, handing him the mug so he could take a sip.

He drank and handed it back. “I’m not sure. No doubt I’ll be in trouble with Captain Creighton for disobeying a direct order.”

“Only if he finds out, Horatio.”

“I suppose so.”

She reached up and stroked his cheek. “I won’t make trouble for you, my love. Maybe I can slip ashore and join Mary Amadeus without the good Captain seeing me. Just tell him you were delayed by someone updating you on the situation in Kimmelsbrücke. It won’t be far from the truth. If Creighton sees me around after that there’s no way he’ll be able to say how I arrived there.”

“Good idea.” A hail up on deck attracted his attention. “I’d better go.”

She grabbed his lapels. “One more kiss before you do!”

“Oh, very well…” he winked and kissed her.

* * *

Being at a loose end Mary Amadeus had turned her attention to the wounded in and around Viehdorf. It was an effort to bear the painful cries and groans that filled the air but she persevered all day and long into the night, tending to the wounded, comforting the dying and writing last letters full of heartbreak for a life cut short. When the barges from Kimmelsbrücke arrived at dawn she and Philip were up early to meet them. Their combined skills had fashioned a kind of bosun’s chair arrangement by which the stretchers bearing the more seriously wounded could be swayed aboard with the least pain and discomfort to the men.

They were working still when Acheron appeared upriver. Philip touched her arm. “Take a break, my dear,” he said softly. “You’ve earned it.”

She wiped her face with her hands. “Yes, I think I shall. I have a hunch Ursula will be aboard. It’ll be good to see her again.”

Acheron sailed toward Viehdorf, a lovely sight with her lateen rig swelling full in the morning breeze. Struck by the beauty of the moment Mary fetched a sheet of paper and a pen from her pack and sat on the bank, sketching Acheron as she drew into the roadstead. It was a complete change from her most recent activity and she could feel the tension leaving her mind. Mary’s keen eyes could pick out Horatio on Acheron’s quarterdeck but there was no sign of Ursula. She waved and Horatio waved back.

The gunboat swung into the bank and lost way, kissing up onto the muddy flat alongside her fellows with barely a shudder. Horatio walked forward to the foredeck as the brow was run out onto the shore, and Mary put her sketch away and went to meet him.

They embraced and kissed each other on the cheek. “It’s good to see you!” she said.

“And it’s good to see you.” He smiled at her fondly. “But you look tired. Have you been up all night?”

She glanced up at the village. “Yes. You look as tired as I feel. Have you been up all night too?”

“In a manner of speaking,” he said and coughed.

“Is Ursula aboard?” Mary asked, craning to peer up at the deck.

“She is, but she can’t come out if Captain Creighton’s around. Have you seen him?”

Mary looked at him askance. “Yes, he went up to the General’s headquarters half an hour ago.”

“Good!” Horatio turned and nodded to the tall Midshipman who was watching from the deck. He in turn nodded to the bosun who disappeared below. A few seconds later Ursula appeared, hurrying along the deck clad in the same clothes she’d worn when escaping the Margraf’s clutches. She bounced down the brow with a broad grin and swept Mary up in a fierce embrace. “It’s good to see you safe and sound, dear!” she cried.

“And you!” Mary said. “How’s Konrad?”

“Alive and getting better.”

“Wonderful!”

“Indeed. I’d better go report to the Captain,” Horatio said. He saluted, gave Ursula a broad wink, and walked away up the levee.

Mary looked from Horatio to Ursula, who was watching him go with an expression of deep affection. “What have you been up to?” she demanded.

Ursula’s cheesy grin was answer enough.

Passion, plans and a death.

*

Horatio departed the palace through the main gate, the sentries coming to attention as he passed. His buckled shoes clacked on the cobblestones, waking small echoes from moonlit streets that had quieted at last after the victory celebrations of the evening. Soon, the statue of St. Ungulant appeared ahead. The twice life-size effigy was posed on a great round pedestal overlooking the river, the saint’s crosier clutched in his hands in a way that reminded Horatio of a particularly belligerent petty officer he’d known. Ursula was sitting on the pedestal, swinging her legs and grinning as he came up. He felt his heart glow as bright as the full moon and he smiled warmly. “You made it intact, then!”

“Oh yes!” she said, hopping down and walking up to him. “I had worse trouble climbing over the convent wall.”

“Why did you – ” He stopped. “Do I really want to know?”

“Not really.” She took him in her arms and kissed him. “I may tell you someday, but for now, we have a boat to catch.”

They walked hand-in-hand down to the quayside and drew an odd look from the sentry guarding the brow as he came to attention. The crew was ready and waiting and their commander’s companion excited a number of nudges and knowing winks among them. “I’ll lay schillings to a slice of stollen that someone’s running a book on you coming aboard,” Horatio whispered.

Ursula winked. Her eyes glowed and she seemed in suppressed high spirits. “No doubt.”

“Good morning, sir,” Midshipman Steiner said, coming forward, his eyes fixed on Ursula. “Is all well?”

“Very well indeed, Steiner.” Horatio slipped his arm around Ursula’s waist. “The Grafin will accompany us on our voyage back to Viehdorf. Are the men rested?”

Steiner’s face was wooden. “Rested and fed, sir.”

“Very good. We will get under way.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Let go forward!” Horatio called. Up forward the harbor watch slipped the hawsers. “Let go aft!” A splash announced the stern hawser was free. Men boomed off from the quayside and the oars emerged from their ports as Acheron moved out into the flow. “Helm, steer for the arch and take us downriver. Mr. Steiner, you have the deck. The Grafin and I are going below.”

*

Ursula led the way below, her heart beginning to beat with anticipation, each pulse strong and hard in her breast. She knew the way to Horatio’s cabin and they went there now, hand in hand, silent. She opened the door, entered. Moonlight came through the stern windows and flooded the small, plain cabin with silver and deep shadows. She looked at his cot, set athwart ships under the stern-lights, and her head swam with expectancy. My first time!

He closed the door behind him and stood there, leaning on it as he gazed at her. “You could sleep alone in here, you know,” he said quietly. “I can take Steiner’s cabin. It would preserve your reputation.”

“So formal!” She gave him a sad smile. “My dear, I don’t think I have much of a reputation left…” Slipping into his embrace she kissed him then held him close, feeling his warmth, his heart beating as hard as her own. “I burnt my bridges the moment I defied my father’s authority.” She shook her head. “I love him, but what he plans is not for me.”

He stroked her hair, which was growing wild now she had escaped the attention of the maids for more than a few hours. She looked up at him, and they kissed, slowly at first then with passion. “I love you!” she murmured, drawing back for a moment.
His gaze was intense. “And I love you!”

“Oh, my dear --!”

He cast off his uniform coat and sword belt, the expensive sword of honor clattering to the deck. Ursula began to unbutton his shirt, giggling at the novelty, the way her fingers slipped and fumbled in her excitement. Pulling it open she ran her hands over his broad chest, feeling the dark hair brushing her palms, the sheer warmth of his skin. And then he was undoing her buttons, his long sensitive fingers popping them open from top to bottom. She stood trembling, head tilted back, eyes closed, her hands resting lightly on his hips until she felt the last button give way. Her senses were hyper-attuned, every little motion and movement her lover made flared brightly in her mind. A sudden coolness flowed over her skin as her shirt fell away then Horatio was caressing and kissing her where no man had ever kissed or caressed. She cradled his head, stroking his curly brown hair, sighing and murmuring sweet nonsense words as his lips and tongue stoked her fires higher and higher.

Of one accord they moved to the cot, laid down, undressed. With the moonlight streaming down and water chuckling beneath Acheron’s hull, Ursula and Horatio made love long into the night.

* * *

It seemed all Kimmelsbrücke had turned out to greet His Grace Duke Karl of Hetzenberg. They raised the echoes with their cheers as he rode his fine thoroughbred stallion Achilles through the Wohl Gate at the head of a body of courtiers and ambassadors from foreign realms. The guards from Infantry Regiment Krancke and the militia struggled to hold the crowd back as Karl rode through the streets with head held high, acknowledging their open delight, feeling a deep glow of pure happiness. A tidy victory, the enemy on the run, awards and honors to be bestowed – and the prospect of meeting this mysterious niece of mine for the first time! This is a day to cherish!

A sizable delegation was gathered to greet him in the courtyard of the Bishop’s Palace, Chancellor Count Ostenberg and his brother Wolfram to the fore. “Well met, Your Grace!” Ostenberg cried as Karl dismounted and a groom hurried forward to take charge of Achilles. He and Ostenberg exchanged bows. “Give you joy of the victory, sire!”

“I thank you most warmly, Chancellor,” Karl said and turned to his brother.

"Give you joy also, Your Grace,” Wolfram murmured as they embraced.

“Thank you.” Karl held him at arms’ length and gazed at him. “Something is amiss with you, brother? Don’t deny it; I know you too well.”

“Ursula has eloped.”

Karl blinked. “With whom?”

“He is a young naval officer who earned distinction in rescuing her.” Wolfram looked gloomy. “It appears he quite turned her head!”

"How shocking!" Karl hid a smile behind an expression of deep gravity. “That is unfortunate indeed! I collect the young man’s name is Lieutenant Horatio Horngebläse?”

“The same.” Wolfram boiled with suppressed fury and Karl had to look away or burst out laughing. Now, isn’t that all of a pattern with what I know of the young hellcat?

“It may mollify you to know the Reich Duke of Beerstein has awarded the young hothead the Order of the Goblet, a most prestigious award for someone so young.”

“Hmph!”

“The Reich Duke’s ambassador is here to present it, along with the Order of the Crown to our most excellent General Rauppen-Schlepper for his recent victory.” He gestured to his breast, where hung an ornate and heavy honor. “Not only that but I have received the Grand Star of the Order of Neues Sudland.” He clapped his brother on the shoulder and steered him toward the doors of the palace. “Be of good cheer if you can, Wolfram. This is a day for celebration!”

“What do you intend to do?” Wolfram asked with a gallows smile as they walked inside.

“I shall ride north and join the army. The Reich Duke’s ambassador will award Rupert with his Order then we’ll chase the Gravies off our land.”

Wolfram looked at Karl askance. “Gravies, brother? Surely you too have not fallen into using the vernacular?”

Karl smiled. “It’s an easy term to remember.” They came to the chamber set aside for their deliberations. Karl waited until the Chancellor and his closest advisors had entered and shut the door before getting to the meat of the matter.

“Gentlemen, we shall squeeze the juice out of what’s left of the Margraf’s army then carry the war onto his soil. The rest of the army is a day’s march behind me. It includes the Guard and the siege train. They should arrive here by nightfall tomorrow. I intend to invade the Margravate and lay siege to Randstadt. With most of his army battered and chased away far to the north, the Margraf will be hard-pressed to defend it for long.”

“With Randstadt in our possession we can push the border east to a more secure and defensible line,” Wolfram murmured, thinking it through.

“Precisely.” Karl smiled. “The Eisenwasser Valley shall be ours!”

A knock on the door heralded a messenger. Uttering a quick explanation he thrust a piece of paper in Count Ostenberg’s hand. The Count dismissed the man and glanced at the paper. He frowned. “What news, Chancellor?” Karl asked.

Ostenberg handed him the paper. “It seems our ambassador to the Principality of Morea has been murdered...

Clearing house.

If I may crave the indulgence of my readers for a moment...

I'm in the process of clearing house prior to emigrating and I came across a stash of Military Modelling magazines from 1981 amidst the heap of stuff from 30+ years of wargaming.

These are in very good condition, include useful articles by some of the foremost names in our hobby, and feature uniforms and battle accounts. The August 1981 issue shown above includes an article on Schleiswig-Holstein troops in Russian service during the SYW. They're posted on eBay at the moment, so if anyone would care to take a look they may be found here...

http://shop.ebay.co.uk/merchant/barnardsstar2009

...just below the Dragon magazines on the page. Mailing costs are to UK but I'll throw it open to anyone who is interested if they make themselves known to me via eBay.

Best, A J

The best laid plans of mice and Archbishops...

*

Ursula woke in the late evening with a headache thumping between her eyes. She got out of bed feeling groggy, a feeling not helped by her attendants, who came rushing as soon as they heard her moving about. The maids assigned to her were fractious, as angry with her as they dared to be for staying away about her own mysterious business instead of being dutiful and attending upon her father’s court. She sent them scurrying with burning ears by using a few choice phrases and finished dressing herself in an increasingly vile temper.

One maid dared her wrath by reappearing with a message from the Archbishop, left there earlier in the day while she was absent. Ursula snatched it from the woman and slit open the seal. The note was terse.

“My dear daughter, you will oblige me by attending upon my offices as soon as you read this note, no matter what the hour. There is news of great import to your future welfare that I wish to convey to you. As an aside I do not like to be kept waiting. With love, Your Father.”

She tapped it on the palm of her hand for a while then went in search of her maids. “Would the Archbishop still be awake at this hour?” she asked, glancing at the clock.

“Yes, Mistress,” one replied. “The news of the victory set everyone astir, and the Archbishop is working on the ramifications even now. It’s said we can expect a visit from the Grand Duke himself at any time!”

“Really?” Ursula had never met her uncle, although she was charitable enough to hope Philip’s good nature sprung from his father. “I suppose I’d better go find my father.” She thought of the labyrinthine complexity of the palace. “And one of you had better show me the way!”

*

Ten minutes of steady walking later and Ursula arrived at the office used by her father. All the time his phrase there is news of great import to your future welfare that I wish to convey to you ran through her mind. I don’t like the sound of that!

As the center of an important diocese the palace kept late hours as a matter of course, but this night saw a greater bustle with a strong undercurrent of satisfaction. Her father greeted her with a warm smile when he saw her and she curtseyed to him, her spirits lifting slightly.

“It’s good to see you, child!” he said, embracing her.

“I came as soon as I could, father. My friend was wounded and near to death, so I attended upon him. I’m glad to say he’s recovering now.”

“That was a generous and Christian act, my girl.”

She shrugged. “It was the least I could do. Without him, I’d still be a prisoner of the Margaf.”

“Indeed.” The Archbishop was dressed in the informal garb of a cleric of his stature, although it had an air of genteel shabbiness as if it had been well-worn for years. He picked up a paper, glanced at it with a distracted air, and set it down. “It has occurred to me that your unwed status remains a source of potential trouble within the realm and a point of contention with our neighbor. My brother, the Grand Duke shall be here tomorrow. He will be accompanied by a number of ambassadors from friendly states. I intend to consult with him on taking the opportunity of their presence to seek out a suitable match for you.”

Ursula’s heart gave a lurch. “What?”

A crease appeared between her father’s brows, a phenomenon that she herself shared when vexed. “Ursula, you must realize your days of gallivanting around playing secret agent are over! You are of an age where most of your contemporaries of rank have long since been married.”

“Do my feelings not come into this? I just happen to love Horatio Horngebläse!”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” he snapped. “You, wed to a mere lieutenant?” He waved a hand in dismissal. “Yes, he’s covered himself in distinction; but he really cannot be contemplated as a suitable match for you!” He shook his head. “No, you shall be married to a prince of another realm, and that marriage shall cement relations between our two states. Thus it has always been, and so it shall always be!”

“I really must object, father!” She stormed, her headache pounding harder by the minute. “This is the Age of Reason! Marrying me off to some fat foreign potentate with horrible manners is positively mediaeval!”

He raised his eyes to heaven, as if seeking divine guidance. “Ursula, the needs of the state far outweighs even our needs. Most nations require a steady line of succession. You must’ve gained knowledge of international affairs through your recent work. You’ve surely witnessed the way nations come into conflict because an inheritance has come into dispute.” He took a deep breath. “Please, child, do your duty to our nation. Marry whomever your uncle and I select for you and go in peace. If Lieutenant Horngebläse is so important to you, it may be that we can have him assigned as naval attaché to the realm you marry into. As long as you do your duty to your husband and produce an heir, you can conduct an affair with your young man. Most husbands of our rank will tolerate such providing you are both discreet.”

Ursula gaped at him. “I don’t believe I’m hearing this! You, a leader of the Church, would condone an affair?”

“Oh, grow up, Ursula!” he shouted. “It has always been the way! I keep trying to get the concept of duty to the state into your addled brain and yet you still refuse to grasp what I’m saying. It behooves us all to do things for the greater good. Some of those things we find distasteful, but that’s the way it is. Now, I’ve quite had enough of your willfulness tonight. I resent being forced to raise my voice. Please return to your chambers and we shall hear no more about this until your Uncle arrives.”

Ursula curtseyed in a slow and deliberate manner, turned on her heel and left the room with a sweep of her skirts. We’ll see about that!

* * *

It was close to midnight by the time Acheron reached Kimmelsbrücke. With the threat of enemy action removed Horatio was able to catch some sleep in his cabin during the voyage. He was therefore quite awake as they swung into their berth. Midshipman Steiner from the late Styx had taken Kurt’s place. Horatio ordered him to let the men rest while he himself went to find suitable barges to recover the wounded from Viehdorf.

The barge captains were surly to begin with, resentful at being kept waiting for valuable cargoes while the river was cleared; but they soon understood the import of Horatio’s request and got to work with a will. The mention of compensation guaranteed by the state worked as a sweetener. As he negotiated, ever and anon Horatio’s thoughts strayed to the great palace on the hill and the special person within. As he watched the barges swing out into the stream on the start of their journey downriver he mulled over the order not to tarry in town given him by Captain Creighton. “I’ve never disobeyed an order yet, but by God, this night I shall!” he said to the now-silent quayside. Tapping his tricorn firmly on his head, he set off up the street to the palace.

He was not too surprised to see the great building still abuzz with the excitement of victory. He was greeted by the officer of the watch, who shook his hand. “You and the flotilla played a great part in the victory, my friend!” the man said expansively. “Had it not been for you old General Rauppen-Schlepper would’ve faced a much greater task. Now the enemy’s beaten all he has to do is follow them up and see them off the premises.”

“I’m sure you exaggerate our deserts,” Horatio replied with a distracted smile.

“Nonsense, old chap! Come, have a glass of wine with me.”

Horatio held up his hand. “Alas, I must decline, for I am on the wing. I’m here to deliver a message then I must return to the flotilla.”

“Of course; of course. Do you know where to go in this infernal maze?”

“I’ve been here before. I think I can find my way.”

“Good luck to you then, my friend, and God send the navy more victories!”

“Amen!”

*

Conscious of the time Horatio walked swiftly through the maze of passageways, rooms and corridors, and reached Ursula’s suite at the same time she herself appeared. He looked at her with surprise and delight, mixed with concern at her heightened color and furious expression. “Hello!”

“Hello yourself!” The angry she-bear managed a smile instead of a snarl. “I’m surprised to see you, but delighted all the same.”

“What’s amiss?” he asked, glancing at the maid who accompanied her.

She took his arm and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll tell you inside. Come!”

The maids were waiting up for her return. “Shoo!” she snapped. “I need a word with the Lieutenant in private!”

“But Mistress, you need a chaperone!” one protested.

“And you’ll get my boot up your backside if you don’t get out!” she retorted.

The women fled and Ursula collapsed onto a chaise-longue with an explosive sigh of relief. “Dear God! Horatio, dearest, I’m sorry to appear such a brute but I feel as if I’ve thrust my head into a hornets’ nest, what with all these ninnies buzzing around. My father really hasn’t helped matters.” She rubbed her forehead. “I’ve such a headache, too!”

Horatio looked at her with concern then poured a glass of wine from a carafe on a side table and silently handed it to her. He half expected her to swill it down in one gulp but she sipped it. He looked around and spotted a large bottle of eau de cologne and a cloth left on a bureau. Soaking the cloth in the ice-cold perfume he took it over to Ursula, knelt by her side and applied it to her forehead.

“Ooh! Bliss!” she sighed and cocked an eye at him. “Where did you ever learn to be so attentive on a woman?”

“Do you really want to know?” he grinned.

She shook her head. “You don’t fool me. You’re no ladies’ man!”

“True, alas!”

“But not for want of trying?” She waved a hand. “Never mind; I’m glad.” She took the cloth away long enough to pull his head down and kiss him. “I’m really glad to see you safe and well, my dear.”

“I’m all too glad to be here with you again.”

“You’re not needed downriver?”

“Not until morning. I came up to fetch some barges to convey the wounded safely to town.” He glanced at the clock. “I’m taking a liberty by being here with you at all. Captain Creighton was most specific about my not tarrying.”

“Ah.” She kissed him again, a much longer, lingering kiss. “It’s so good to see you, and just when I need comforting.”

“What’s happened to make you so furious?” She explained, the color rising in her cheeks once more. “Good God!” he said.

“Yes. I need to get away from here!”

He hesitated, thinking fast. “Acheron is moored at the quay…”

Ursula grinned. “Really!”

“Yes. How soon can you pack?”

She snorted. “I’m quite ready now!”

“You can’t leave by the main entrance or your father will hear and you’ll be fetched back.”

“There’s no other way out – or is there?”

She moved him aside gently, got up and walked to the tall windows that let onto a balcony. He followed her outside and they looked down. “I can climb down that,” she said, pointing at the stonework. “There are plenty of foot and handholds. You can head out the main doors; I’ll go out that side gate we used before and meet you at the statue to St. Ungulant on the road down to the quay.”

“You’ll have trouble doing anything so bold in those skirts,” he said, looking at her attire.

“Then the skirts will have to go.”

Ursula went back inside and disappeared into the adjoining room, which Horatio saw was a bedroom. He heard the sound of doors and drawers being pulled open. “I’ve got something here somewhere, if those wretched maids haven’t thrown it away – ah!”

She emerged bearing a pile of clothing which looked familiar to Horatio. “Isn’t that the man’s garb you were wearing when we rescued you?” he asked.

“Yes. At least the maids had these cleaned and pressed. They seem to like having things cleaned and pressed.”

To Horatio’s astonishment she began to undress, pulling at the rich cloth with uncaring haste. He hurriedly turned his back but realized he could see her reflected quite well in the window glass, with the dark night beyond. Oh well. I did try to be a gentleman, he thought, watching proceedings with interest. Ursula undressed, casting the dress and undergarments aside and seeming not to care whether he watched or not. “Men’s clothing is so much more practical!” she complained as she pulled the britches up her long legs and tucked the shirt into the waistband. “Why the hell do we women put up with skirts and corsets?”

“It’s an unjust world,” he said faintly.

“Isn’t it? I should be able to just walk away from all this without let or hindrance, but no…”

“Quite so.”

He watched her reflection as she pulled on her outdoor boots and stood up. “There, finished!”

He turned and grinned. Ursula grinned back as she sauntered up to him. “Can you imagine how dull life would be if we did what we were told all the time?” she asked, hugging him.

“Life with you will never be dull!” He said, gazing at her fondly.

She pulled his head down and gave him a long kiss. “I aim to make sure of that! Now,” she said, releasing her clasp and heading for the window, “I’ll make tracks. Throw those clothes into my room and shut the door. When you leave, tell those pests outside I’ve gone to bed and am not to be disturbed. See you by the Saint!”

With that, she clambered over the stone balustrade and disappeared from sight. Horatio gathered up her discarded clothes, grinning broadly. There may be trouble ahead, but with Ursula by my side I just don’t care!

After the battle.

General Rauppen-Schlepper at work.

*

General Rauppen-Schlepper was not displeased with the efforts his troops made to pursue the enemy, although they were without exception tired after the long day. His main concern was the lack of fresh cavalry. Rumtopft’s Dragoons had covered themselves in glory and had earned their new battle honor of Viehdorf, but they were almost spent as a military force. Their surviving troops had been converged into two full-strength squadrons, and Rauppen-Schlepper could see them ahead where they were probing the retreating Gravies in a slow and desultory fashion. Their colonel had been taken to Viehdorf where his wounds could be tended, and that brave gentleman’s welfare was of much concern to his men.

The Bishop’s Horse were not in much better shape, although their colonel was full of vigor and ready to lead his men into the fray once more. At the moment they were acting as reserve, close to hand and ready to respond to Rauppen-Schlepper’s orders.

From what he could see of the Gravies’ cavalry their hussar regiment posed the biggest danger. Their colonel was on his way back to Kimmelsbrücke under escort, but his capture and whatever losses they’d suffered on the field hadn’t affected them much. They were still numerous and well-handled, showing the potential of their type in slowing pursuit, probing flanks and harassing stragglers. If their infantry had not been so battered the hussars would no doubt be looking for trouble. The Seinfeld cuirassiers were acting as reserve, standing until the Hetzenberg army had followed up to within long musket shot before turning their mounts and riding away perhaps a quarter mile to the next position. Occasionally they would threaten a charge, and of course he would have to respond, even though he knew it to be a bluff. It will not do to be careless now, when these poor men have achieved so much.

Some two hundred yards behind the dragoons Wohl and Brabenachel’s regiments were acting as the main body, with his headquarters party riding at walking pace between the two. They too had fought well, though not with such distinction as to earn battle honors. The infantrymen were as tired as the cavalry troopers and after an earlier attempt to follow the retreat in line had resorted to marching in column, it being much easier to maintain cohesion. A couple of platoons had been deployed to either flank to help sweep up the stragglers from the Dunkeldorf-Pfuhl army, and a good many exhausted Gravies were being sent to the rear under escort. It had to be done, but it meant a slow erosion of the infantry’s remaining fighting capabilities.

Behind him marched Sleibnitz’s regiment, largely untouched by the battle. They were deployed in line and were easily keeping up with the more battle-weary regiments ahead. Rauppen-Schlepper had treated Colonel Sleibnitz with cool reserve when giving his orders for the pursuit. I’ll deal with him later, and don’t I wish him joy of the encounter! Sleibnitz’s connections with the Ducal family had stood him in good stead until now; but Rauppen-Schlepper had his own power, and the victory would give him an ascendancy that would outstrip any Sleibnitz could muster. Once this campaign is over a nice posting on the frontier, well away from civilization, will suit that fellow.

The baggage train was following at its own speed but the artillery had been left in Viehdorf, along with Graf Philip and his protégé Lieutenant Mary Amadeus. Rauppen-Schlepper smiled in recollection. They had taken possession of the Margraf’s guns with a glee that was positively unnerving. I can see interesting times ahead for those two.

And now dusk was falling. Rauppen-Schlepper looked around then consulted his watch. “Captain Scharfe, I will issue orders,” he called and his chief of staff rode up. “Direct this to Major Kirchner, commanding Rumtopft’s Dragoons. The pursuit will be terminated for today upon receipt of this order. Maintain your position until the infantry comes up then encamp. To the colonels of Brabenachel and Wohl, they are to move up to the cavalry position and encamp, sentries to be posted.”

Scharfe scribbled the orders then paused and looked up. “And Sleibnitz, sir?”

“Sleibnitz,” Rauppen-Schlepper drawled. “Yes, they are to encamp in the same location and will provide sentries and vedettes for the entire army.”

Scharfe hid a grin as he wrote this. “Very good sir.” He turned and called. “Gallopers!”

The messengers took their copies of the orders and sped away. Before long bugle and trumpet calls sounded. A collective sigh of relief seemed to float into the air as the men realized the long, long day was over at last. Ahead, the nearest enemy hussar squadron heard the calls and understood their day was nearly over too. As Rauppen-Schlepper watched, the captain of the squadron rode forwards a ways and saluted the Rumtopft Dragoons, and the courtesy was matched by the dragoon commander. Just as it should be, Rauppen-Schlepper thought. War can be a beastly business if the proprieties are not observed.

* * *

The flotilla had swung at their moorings a quarter mile from Viehdorf for a long and frustrating day. Every man aboard Acheron, Cocytus and Phlegethon had watched the battle from whatever vantage points they could find, but the height of the levee hid most of it. Although Horatio knew the mortars the three gunboats carried could easily pound the mercenaries in the village up on the bund, it was still the home of Hetzenberg people and therefore out of bounds. He was glad to see the infantry sweep the enemy from its streets, and once Captain Creighton was assured the village was clear, he gave orders for the flotilla to close with the shore.

Acheron, Cocytus and Phlegethon were drawn up bows-on to the shore, with brows run onto the bank. The streets of Viehdorf were busy with detachments tending to the wounded from both sides that had been assembled there. Cottages had been commandeered for hospitals and operating theaters and the moans and screams of wounded men seemed all-pervading. As Creighton walked grim-faced across the brow to the shore Horatio followed, and they were met by an officer of the medical corps who saluted them. “Good morning, gentlemen. I’m Captain Hecht, commanding the medical detachment here.”

“Good morning, Captain,” Creighton replied, and introduced himself and Horatio. “I give you joy of the victory.” He looked around. “You have plenty of poor wounded fellows here, it seems. I trust the butcher’s bill was not too high?”

Hecht sighed. “High enough, I fear. Brabenachel and Wohl’s regiments suffered greatly, as did the Rumtopft Dragoons. We have their colonel here. He was wounded but should live, with the blessing.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Creighton said gravely. “My command is staying ashore for the night. Is there anything we can do to aid you here?”

“If you have men aboard with knowledge of medicine I would appreciate their services, sir.”

“You shall have them, sir.” Creighton rubbed his jaw. “Captain, it occurs to me that we could commandeer a barge or two and transport the wounded in them to Kimmelsbrücke. Traveling by water would be much kinder on them than a jolting progress over rutted country lanes for hours upon end.”

Hecht had to follow Creighton’s speech with close attention, for the Captain’s German was not quite adequate for such a discourse, but he readily grasped the meaning and beamed. “That would be wonderful! I do confess that, careful as we are, such prolonged jolting carries away many a poor fellow and agonizes those who do survive.”

“The river traffic is being held in Kimmelsbrücke, sir,” Horatio said to Creighton. “With your permission, once my men have rested a while, I’ll take Acheron back upriver and shake a couple of barges loose. It shouldn’t take more than four hours before they arrive here.”

“Pray do so, Lieutenant.” Creighton cocked an eye at him. “And in spite of the…attractions in town, don’t tarry ashore, do ye hear?”

Horatio knew the Captain alluded to Ursula and felt his face grow warm. “The thought didn’t enter my mind, sir!”

Creighton gave him an arch look. “I’m sure it didn’t. Away with you now, for these fellows need our help.”

Creighton headed off into the village to inspect the scene of the action and make arrangements for the wounded to be moved when the barges arrived.

As Horatio was about to head back up the brow he heard someone calling his name. Looking back he saw Mary Amadeus walking toward him and smiled with delight, even as he goggled slightly at the sight of her in uniform. “Mary!”

Mary Amadeus came up and hugged him, drawing more than one grin from those nearby. “I saw the flotilla come in and had to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too.” He gave her a fond smile. “You reek of gunpowder!”

“I do.” She shrugged. “It’s par for the course with me, but I’d welcome a bath before another day is out.”

“You took part in the battle?”

“I did. Philip and I managed to acquire some guns from the Gravies, and he’s back there now attending to the matter.”

“You make it sound like an ordinary purchase at a store!”

She grimaced. “It was bought at the cost of a lot of blood on the enemy’s part, but serves ‘em right for invading us.”

“You bloodthirsty wench!” he grinned. “You’re beginning to sound like Ursula.”

“The she-bear is still back in Kimmelsbrücke I think,” Mary said. “She intended to make sure Konrad was cared-for.”

“It was good of her to do so. I’m heading that way now. If you’d like to come along you’d be welcome.”

“Ah.” Mary looked uncertain. “I’d love to, Horatio, but I have a number of commitments here. Give my love to Ursula when you see her.”

Horatio could guess the shape of her commitment and smiled inwardly. “I’ll surely do that.”

* * *

The she-bear was exhausted, but Ursula knew her own tiredness was as nothing compared to Konrad’s. She’d tended to him with care and compassion, seeing to his needs no matter how base and squalid. He’d passed through the night and come into the morning light alive but weak. The fever had broken at the same time as news had arrived of victory over Dunkeldorf-Pfuhl. Now he slept, and she sat in the chair by the window wondering in a fuzzy way how Mary and Horatio and Cousin Philip were doing.

A knock sounded at the door and she looked up as it opened. A woman stood on the threshold, looking pale and anxious. She was some considerable age older than Ursula and she wrung her hands as her gaze swung from her to the bed where Konrad lay. “Forgive my abrupt appearance, Excellency,” the woman said, advancing into the room and dropping into a curtsey. “I am Elizabeth Beckenbaur, Konrad’s wife. I came as soon as I heard he was ill.”

Ursula rose and to Elizabeth’s surprise gave her a warm and kindly hug. “You’ve no need to apologize, Elizabeth; and please, call me Ursula.” Taking Elizabeth’s hand she led her to the chair by the bedside. “Your husband is alive and recovering now.”

“You’ve been here all night?” Elizabeth took Konrad’s hand and he smiled in his sleep and clasped it tight.

“Yes.” Ursula wiped her hands over her face. “I admit I’m pretty much exhausted.”

Elizabeth took her hand and squeezed it with tears in her eyes. “How can I ever thank you for tending to my husband?”

“There’s no need. It was the least I could do for my friend and mentor.” Ursula’s head swam and she blinked away the fatigue. “Now, if you are sure you’ll be fine here, I shall take my leave. I hear the siren song of my bed.” A thought popped into her head as she headed for the door. “Oh, and when he’s fit enough to travel, I’ll pay for you both to take the waters at Bolschen. I hear they’re a sovereign remedy for all kinds of ills. You’ll be able to travel by barge all the way there. It’ll be much kinder on an invalid’s bones than a coach.”

“You’re too generous, Excellency!”

“Ursula. I’m off now before I fall over, but I’ll pop in later today.”

Ursula left with the warm glow of a deed well done. The barracks adjutant fell over himself ordering a carriage to take her back to the palace, and she waited in his office for it to arrive, feeling pleasantly tired and listening to the joyful bells of celebration ringing out across the town. Sometimes things do go right.

* * * * *

My apologies to all those who follow this blog. I've been rather busy of late, and with my visa interview confirmed I'll be busier still preparing for that these next few weeks. I'll be able to wrap up the current edition of the Chronicles but it'll be as-and-when.

Battle honors.

The Battle of Viehdorf.

*

A busy day today, so only a short post and a new poll. Having read the battle account below, which regiment(s) do you think should receive battle honors for Viehdorf? I've included all but the artillery batteries for both sides (which have their own system of recording deeds) and Babbington's Legion mercenary regiment. The poll is set for multiple answers.

*

I hope to write an account of the aftermath to the battle and a "how I write" article on the Chronicle in general at a later date. Cheers! A J

The Battle of Viehdorf - Finale

The End.

The resolution in Viehdorf village.

*

Away to the left of the brigade Regiment Brabenachel was suffering mixed fortunes. A heavy volley felled many a man, although its colonel was miraculously untouched. The grenadiers, tried beyond the endurance even of those stalwart men, fled to the rear. Colonel Brabenachel gritted his teeth, waved his sword once more and led the remainder forward into the retiring enemy. Another enemy volley seared the air but it was too little, too late. The Brabenachel regiment closed with sword and bayonet and soon the enemy company broke and fled.

General Rauppen-Schlepper rode forward slowly, accompanied by his staff. All across the front the enemy was retiring or fleeing, and his fine regiments were following up. “It seems we have a victory, gentlemen,” he said with a quiet smile.

“Thanks be to God!” Captain Scharfe said.

“Amen! And thanks be also to these stalwart fellows!” the General said heartily, encompassing the Hetzenberg army with a sweep of his arm.

Scharfe nodded. “Indeed sir.” He peered through his telescope. “The main body of the Gravies appears to be withdrawing in some disorder, but that mercenary regiment is approaching from the right. They and their cavalry will help shield them.”

“I wonder why our guns do not fire upon them. It would hasten their retreat.”

Scharfe swung his telescope over to the right. “It appears a company of Brabenachel’s regiment has advanced into the field of fire.”

“Colonel Sechs-Meilen-Scharfschütze is a gentleman. He won’t open fire with our own troops in the way.”

“I think he’s addressing the situation now, sir,” Scharfe grinned, his eye pressed to the instrument.

*

Colonel Sechs-Meilen-Scharfschütze walked over to the color party of the nearby infantry company. The captain looked round in surprise at the appearance of the grimy, sweat-stained officer, but recognized his superior rank and saluted. Colonel Sechs-Meilen-Scharfschütze returned the salute. “My dear chap, you would oblige me extremely if you would draw your men back just a little.” He gestured to the battery. Some of the men there waved cheerfully. “You see, artillery rounds have right of way on any battlefield.”

The Captain assessed the situation and bowed. “Forgive me, sir, I see we are sorely amiss in crossing into your path. I shall withdraw my company. Would fifty yards be sufficient for your purposes?”

The Colonel smiled. “It will be perfectly adequate, I do assure you.”

“Then fifty yards it shall be. Your servant, sir,” said the Captain with a bow.

“Much obliged, sir,” said the Colonel, responding in kind.

*

Now the action was all but over Mary Amadeus was taking a well-earned break from her labors. Colonel Sechs-Meilen-Scharfschütze approached. She saluted and he responded. “My dear Lieutenant, it occurred to me that you’ve been laboring most heartily for the cause, and I’ve a mind to reward your labors.” He gestured to the battery. “Would you care to direct the last salvo of the day?”

“I would be delighted, sir!” she grinned.

Wiping her hands on the seat of her britches she followed the colonel to the gun line. The gunners stood waiting, teeth shining white in their black-powder stained faces.

The Colonel addressed them. “Lieutenant Amadeus will direct the last salvo, gentlemen. Pray heed her words and obey her directions.”

Mary took a deep breath and moved to the first gun. Stooping, she peered along the length of the barrel. Calculations began to flow through her mind like a silver river of light. “Right, fifteen inches; elevation another eleven degrees…”

*

Lieutenant Klopfer walked his horse toward General Rauppen-Schlepper and his command group, savoring the feel of the springy turf beneath his feet after so long in the saddle. He was satisfied that he could file a good report with his superiors on the cavalry action, although it seemed he was too late for the infantry battle. The firing there was dying down but as he joined the command group he saw their attention was fixed on the Hetzenberg artillery.

“May I ask what’s happening, Captain?” he asked of Captain Scharfe.

“It appears Lieutenant Mary Amadeus is going to direct the last salvo of the day!” Scharfe grinned, lowering his telescope to look at him for a moment.

Klopfer blinked, astounded. “So it’s true! You do have a woman officer in your ranks!”

“Oh yes. She’s a new appointment, courtesy of Graf Philip. Now we’ll see what she can do.”

But Klopfer was already mounting up. Setting heels to flanks he spurred his mount across the field. I hope I’m in time! I’ve got to see this!

*

He was. Lieutenant Mary Amadeus was just straightening up from aiming the last gun as the hussar officer appeared with a clatter of hooves. As he leapt from his horse the artillery Colonel waved for him to remain quiet, apparently so focused on the Lieutenant’s efforts he didn’t even pay heed to the sudden appearance of a man wearing such a garish uniform. A tall young man close to Klopfer’s age stood quietly nearby, his hands behind his back, watching the Lieutenant with what seemed a proprietary air. Klopfer recognized him as Graf Philip von Hetzenberg, the heir to the Grand Duchy no less. How curious!

Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, although there seemed to be an underlying air of hilarity Klopfer had seldom experienced on a battlefield. He watched the young woman wearing the claret-colored uniform coat with bated breath.

Mary stepped back, away from the guns and took one last glance along the length of the battery. “Make ready!” she shouted. Linstocks hovered, poised to sweep down at her command. “Fire!”

The battery roared. Immediately heads turned to follow the line of shot. The cannonballs themselves appeared as short streaks of black as if a giant pencil had drawn lines in the air. And then after a heart-stopping pause they fell directly upon the enemy battery.

A collective sigh went up. Every shot had struck home. The surviving enemy gunners fled, abandoning the guns. The battery was no more.

Heads turned as everyone regarded the plump young woman with awe. She gave a little shrug, as if to say What did you expect? and walked back to where Graf Philip stood.

Philip’s heart glowed with pride. Abandoning propriety to the four winds he hugged Mary and swept her up and whirled her around. She laughed and clung to him as she swung through the air then as he set her down she smiled up at him. “I think you’d better walk over and take possession of those enemy guns, dear,” she told him. “It’ll save having to buy guns for our own battery!”

* * *

Pressed to the utmost the men of the surviving Dunkeldorf-Pfuhl infantry regiments fought off close pursuit, taking punishment but dealing it out in turn. With their cavalry and Babbington’s veterans screening them they withdrew from the field as the afternoon light began to wane. The last shots died away and the battle was over.

* * *

General Rauppen-Schlepper gave directions for the wounded to be gathered and tended to, before gesturing to an aide. “Rudi, take a message to His Excellency Count Ostenberg in Kimmelsbrücke.

“To Your Excellency, greetings. God has sent us victory this day upon the field of Viehdorf. The enemy is withdrawing northwestward in some disorder, screened by their surviving cavalry and some steady infantry. I intend to pursue for as long as daylight lasts. Casualty lists to follow. Please oblige me by forwarding this dispatch to His Grace. I remain your devoted servant, etc, etc.”

Rudi wrote the last words, Rauppen-Schlepper applied his seal to the folded paper, and a keen young aide rode away to spread the good news. Rauppen-Schlepper looked around. “Maybe I’m not too old for this scheiße after all.”

~~~~~

And so ends the Battle of Viehdorf with a convincing Hetzenberg victory. Tomorrow I'll post a series of photos supplied by Will showing the overall course of the action. All the figures involved were his, and the rules used were his own set for SYW/AWI. I'll also post a poll asking my readers which regiments on either side should be awarded battle honors.