CHAPTER XIX.
IN A GREEN VALLEY.
He was as good as his word. Before the sun had been up an hour six ofthe mutineers, chosen by lot from a hundred of the more guilty,dangled from a great tree which overhung the brook, and were alreadyforgotten--so short are soldiers' memories--in the hurry and bustle ofa new undertaking. The slope of the ridge which divided us from theneighbouring valley was quickly dotted with parties of men makingtheir way up it, through bracken and furze which reached nearly to thewaist; while the horse under Count Waska rode slowly off to make thecircuit of the hill and enter the next valley by an easier road.
My lady chose to climb the hill on foot, in the track of the pikemen,though the heavy dew, which the sun had not yet drunk up, soondrenched her skirts, and she might, had she willed it, have beencarried to the top on men's shoulders. The fern and long grass delayedher and made our progress slow, so that the general's dispositionswere in great part made when we reached the summit. Busy as he stillwas, however, he had eyes for us. He came at once and placed us in asmall coppice of fir trees that crowned one of the knobs of the ridge.From this point, where he took up his own position, we could command,ourselves unseen, the whole valley, the road, and river--the scene ofthe coming surprise--and see clearly, what no one below could discern,where our footmen lay in ambush in parties of fifty; the pikemen amongsome black thorns, close to the north end of the valley, the musketmena little farther within and almost immediately below us. The latter,prone in the fern, looked, viewed from above, like lines of sheepfeeding, until the light gleamed on a gun-barrel or sword-hilt anddispelled the peaceful illusion.
The sun had not yet risen above the hill on which we stood, and thevalley below us lay cool and green and very pleasant to the eye. Abouta league in length, it was nowhere, except at its southern extremity,where it widened into a small plain, more than half a mile across. Atits northern end, below us, and a little to the right, it diminishedto a mere wooded defile, through which the river ran over rocks andboulders, with a dull roar that came plainly to our ears. A solitaryhouse of some size, with two or three hovels clustered about it, stoodnear the middle of the valley; but no smoke rose from the chimney, nocock crowed, no dog barked. And, looking more closely, I saw that theplace was deserted.
So quiet it seemed in this peaceful Thuringian valley, I shudderedwhen I thought of the purpose which brought us hither; and I saw mylady's face grow sad with a like reflection. But General Tzerclasviewed all with another mind. The stillness, the sunshine, the verysong of the lark, as it rose up and up and up above us, and, stillunwearied, sang its song of praise, touched no chord in his breast.The quietude pleased him, but only because it favoured his plans; thelark's hymn, because it covered with a fair mask his lurking ambush;the sunshine, because it seemed a good augury. His keen and vigilanteye, the smile which curled his lip, the set expression of his face,showed that he saw before him a battle-field and no more; a stepupwards--a triumph, a victory, and that was all.
I blamed him then. I confess now, I misjudged him. He who leads onsuch occasions risks more than his life, and bears a weight ofresponsibility that may well crush from his mind all moods or thoughtsof weather. At least, I did him, I had to do him, this justice: thathe betrayed no anxiety, uttered no word of doubt or misgiving.Standing with his back against a tree and his eyes on the northernpass, he remained placidly silent, or talked at his ease. In this hecontrasted well with the Waldgrave, who continually paced up and downin the background, as if the fir-grove were a prison and he a captivewaiting to be freed.
'At what hour should they be here?' my lady asked presently, breakinga long silence.
She tried to speak in her ordinary tone, but her voice soundeduncertain. A woman, however brave, is a woman still. It began to dawnupon her that things were going to happen which it might be unpleasantto see, and scarcely more pleasant to remember.
'I am afraid I cannot say,' the general answered lightly. 'I have donemy part; I am here. Between this and night they should be here too.'
'Unless they have been warned.'
'Precisely,' he answered,' unless they have been warned.'
After that my lady composed herself anew, and the day wore on, indesultory conversation and a grim kind of picnic. Noon came, andafternoon, and the Countess grew nervous and irritable. But GeneralTzerclas, though the hours, as they passed without event, withoutbringing that for which he waited, must have tried him severely,showed to advantage throughout. He was ready to talk, satisfied to besilent. Late in the day, when my lady, drowsy with the heat, dozed alittle, he brought out his Caesar, and read, in it, as if nothingdepended on the day, and he were the most indifferent of spectators.She awoke and found him reading, and, for a time, sat staring at him,wondering where she was. At last she remembered. She sat up with astart, and gazed at him.
'Are we still waiting?' she said.
'We are still waiting,' he answered, closing his book with a smile.'But,' he continued, a moment later, 'I think I hear something now.Keep back a little, if you please, Countess.'
We all stood up among the trees, listening, and presently, though themurmuring of the river in the pass prevented us hearing duller sounds,a sharp noise, often repeated, came to our ears. It resembled thesnapping of sticks under foot.
'Whips!' General Tzerclas muttered. 'Stand back, if you please.'
The words were scarcely out of his mouth before a handful of horsemenappeared on a sudden in the road below us. They came on like tiredmen, some with their feet dangling, some sitting sideways on theirhorses. Many had kerchiefs wound round their heads, and carried theirsteel caps at the saddle-bow; others nodded in their seats, as ifasleep. They were abreast of our pikemen when we first saw them, andwe watched them advance, until a couple of hundred yards brought theminto line with the musketmen. These, too, they passed withoutsuspicion, and so went jolting and clinking down the valley, every manwith a bundle at his crupper, and strange odds and ends banging andswinging against his horse's sides.
Two hundred paces behind them the first waggon appeared, draggedslowly on by four labouring horses, and guarded by a dozen footsoldiers--heavy-browed fellows, lounging along beside the wheels, withtheir hands in their breeches pockets. Their long, trailing weaponsthey had tied at the tail of the waggon. Close on their heels cameanother waggon creaking and groaning, and another, and another, with adrowsy, stumbling train of teamsters and horse-boys, and here andthere an officer or a knot of men-at-arms. But the foot soldiers hadmostly climbed up into the waggons, and lay sprawling on the loads,with arms thrown wide, and heads rolling from side to side with eachmovement of the straining team.
We watched eighty of these waggons go by; the first must have been amile and more in front of the last. After them followed a disorderlyband of stragglers, among whom were some women. Then a thick, solidcloud of dust, far exceeding all that had gone before, came down thepass. It advanced by fits and starts, now plunging forward, nowhalting, while the heart of it gave forth a dull roaring sound thatrose above the murmur of the river.
'Cattle!' General Tzerclas muttered. 'Five hundred head, I should say.There can be nothing behind that dust. Be ready, trumpeter.'
The man he addressed stood a few paces behind us; and at intervalsalong the ridge others lay hidden, ready to pass the signal to anofficer stationed on the farthest knob, who as soon as he heard thecall would spring up, and with a flag pass the order to the cavalrybelow him.
The suspense of the moment was such, it seemed an age before thegeneral gave the word. He stood and appeared to calculate, now lookingkeenly towards the head of the convoy, which was fast disappearing ina haze of dust, now gazing down at the bellowing, struggling, waveringmass below us. At length, when the cattle had all but cleared thepass, he raised his hand and cried sharply--
'Now!'
The harsh blare of the trumpet pierced the upper stillness in which westood. It was repeated--repeated again; then it died away shri
lly inthe distance. In its place, hoarse clamour filled the valley below us.We pressed forward to see what was happening.
The surprise was complete; and yet it was a sorry sight we saw down inthe bottom, where the sunshine was dying, and guns were flashing, andmen were chasing one another in the grey evening light. Our musketmen,springing out of ambush, had shot down the horses of the lasthalf-dozen waggons, and, when we looked, were falling pell-mell uponthe unlucky troop of stragglers who followed. These, flying all ways,filled the air with horrid screams. Farther to the rear, our pikemenhad seized the pass, and penning the cattle into it rendered escape bythat road hopeless. Forward, however, despite the confusion anddismay, things were different. Our cavalry did not appear--the dustprevented us seeing what they were doing. And here the enemy had amoment's respite, a moment in which to think, to fly, to stand ontheir defence.
And soon, while we looked on breathless, it was evident that they weretaking advantage of it. Possibly the general had not counted on thedust or the lateness of the hour. He began to gaze forward towards thehead of the column, and to mutter savagely at the footmen below us,who seemed more eager to overtake the fugitives and strip the dead,than to press forward and break down opposition. He sent down Ludwigwith orders; then another.
But the mischief was done already, and still the cavalry did notappear; being delayed, as we afterwards learned, by an unforeseenbrook. Some one with a head on his shoulders had quickly drawntogether all those among the enemy who could fight, or had a mind tofight. We saw two waggons driven out of the line, and in a momentoverturned; in a twinkling the panic-stricken troopers and teamstershad a haven in which they could stand at bay.
Its value was soon proved. A company of our musketeers, pursuing somestragglers through the medley of flying horses and maddened cattlewhich covered the ground near the pass, came upon this rude fortress,and charged against it, recklessly, or in ignorance. In a moment avolley from the waggons laid half a dozen on the ground. The rest fellback, and scattered hither and thither. They were scarcely dispersedbefore a handful of the enemy's officers and mounted men came ridingback from the front. Stabbing their horses in the intervals betweenthe waggons, they took post inside. Every moment others, some witharms and some without, came straggling up. When our cavalry at lastarrived on the scene, there were full three hundred men in the waggonwork, and these the flower of the enemy. All except one haddismounted. This one, a man on a white charger, seemed to be the soulof the defence.
Our horse, flushed with triumph and yelling loudly, came down the linelike a torrent, sabreing all who fell in their way. Half rode on oneside of the convoy and half on the other. They had met with noresistance hitherto, and expected none, and, like the musketmen, wereon the barricade before they knew of its existence. In the open, thestoutest hedgehog of pikes could scarcely have resisted a chargedriven home with such blind recklessness; but behind the waggons itwas different. Every interstice bristled with pike-heads, while themusketmen poured in a deadly fire from the waggon-tops. For a fewseconds the place belched flame and smoke. Two or three score of theforemost assailants went down horse and man. The rest, savingthemselves as best they could, swerved off to either side amid a roarof execrations and shouts of triumph.
My lady, trembling with horror, had long ago retired. She would nolonger look. The Waldgrave, too, was gone; with her, I supposed. Halfthe general's attendants had been sent down the hill, some with oneorder, some with another. In this crisis--for I saw clearly that itwas a crisis, and that if the defenders could hold out until darknessfell, the issue must be doubtful--I turned to look at our commander.He was still cool, but his brow was dark with passion. At one momenthe stepped forward as if to go down into the _melee_; the next herepressed the impulse. The level rays of the sun which just caught thetop of the hill shone in our eyes, while dust and smoke began to veilthe field. We could still make out that the cavalry were sweepinground and round the barricade, pouring in now and then a volley ofpistol shots; but they appeared to be suffering more loss than theycaused.
Given a ring of waggons in the open, stoutly defended by resolute men,and I know nothing more difficult to reduce. Gazing in a kind offascination into the depths where the smoke whirled and eddied, as thesteam rolls this way and that on a caldron, I was wondering what Ishould do were I in command, when I saw on a sudden what some one wasdoing; and I heard General Tzerclas utter an oath of relief. Back fromthe front of the convoy came three waggons, surrounded and urged on bya mob of footmen; jolting and bumping over the uneven ground, andoften nearly overturned, still they came on, and behind them a largertroop of men. Finally they came almost abreast of the enemy'sposition, and some thirty paces to one side of it. There perforce theystayed, for the leading horses fell shot; but it was near enough. Inan instant our men swarmed up behind them and began to fire volleysinto the enemy's fortress, while the horse moving to and fro at alittle distance forbade any attempt at a sally.
'That man has a head on his shoulders!' General Tzerclas mutteredbetween his teeth. 'That is Ludwig! Now we have them!'
But I saw that it was not Ludwig; and presently the general saw ittoo. I read it in his face. The man who had brought up the waggons,and who could still be seen exposing himself, mounted and bare-headedin the hottest of the fire, ordering, threatening, inciting, leading,so that we could almost hear his voice where we stood, was theWaldgrave! His blue velvet cloak and bright fair head wereunmistakable, though darkness was fast closing over the fight, and itwas only at intervals that we could see anything through the pall ofsmoke.
'Vivat Weimar!' I cried involuntarily, a glow of warmth and pridecoursing through my veins. In that moment I loved the young man as ifhe had been my son.
The next I fell from the clouds. What would my lady say if anythinghappened to him? What should I say if I stood by and saw him fall?And he with no headpiece, breast or back! It was madness of him toexpose himself! I started forward, stung by the thought, and before Iknew what I was doing--for, in fact, I could have done no good--I wason the slope and descending the hill. Almost at the same moment thegeneral gave the word to those who remained with him, and began todescend also. The hill was steep there, and it took us five minutes toreach the scene of action.
If I had foolishly thought that I could do anything, I wasdisappointed. By this time the battle was over. Manning every waggonwithin range, and pouring in a steady fire, our sharp-shooters hadthinned the ranks behind the barricade. The enemy's fire had firstslackened, and then ceased. A little later, one wing, unable to bearthe shower of shot, had broken and tried to fly, and in a moment ourpikemen had gained the work.
We heard the flight and pursuit go wailing up the valley, but thedisorder, and darkness, and noise at the foot of the hill where wefound ourselves, were such that I stood scared and bewildered,uncertain which way to turn or whither to go. On every side of me menwere stripping the dead, the wounded were crying for water, and cattleand horses, wounded or maddened, were rushing up and down among brokenwaggons and prostrate loads. Such eyes of cruelty and greed glared atme out of the gloom, such shouts cursed me across dead men that I drewmy sword and carried it drawn. But the scene robbed me of half myfaculties; I did not know which way to turn; I did not know what todo; and until I came upon Ludwig, I wandered aimlessly about, lookingfor the Waldgrave without plan or system. It was my first experienceof the darker side of war, and it surpassed in horror anything I hadimagined or thought possible.
Ludwig, badly wounded in the leg, I found under a waggon. I had stoodbeside him some time without seeing him, and he had not spoken. Butwhen I moved away I suppose he recognized my figure or step, for whenI had gone a few paces I heard a hoarse voice calling my name. I wentcautiously back to the waggon, and after a moment's search detectedhim peering from under it with a white, fierce face, which reminded meof a savage creature at bay.
'Hallo!' I said. 'Why did you not speak before, man?'
'Get me some water,' he whispered painfully. 'Water, for the love ofHeaven!'
I told him that I had no flask or bottle, or I should before this havefetched some for others'. He gave me his, and I was starting off whenI remembered that he might know how the Waldgrave had fared. I askedhim.
'He led the pursuit,' he muttered. 'He is all right.' Then, as I wasagain turning away, he clutched my arm and continued, 'Have you apistol?'
'Yes,' I said.
'Lend it to me until you come back,' he gasped. 'If these vulturesfind me they will finish me. I know them. That is better. I shall winthrough yet.'
I marked where his waggon stood, and left him. The river was distantless than a quarter of a mile, but it lay low, and the banks weresteep; and in the darkness it was not easy to find a way down to thewater. Succeeding at last--and how still and peaceful it seemed as Ibent over the gently flowing surface and heard the plash and gurgle ofthe willows in the stream!--I filled my bottle and climbed back tothe plain level. Here I found a change in progress. At intervals upand down the valley great fires had been kindled. Some of these,burning high already, lit up the wrecked convoy and the dark groupsthat moved round it, and even threw a red, uncertain glare far up theslopes of the hills. Aided by the light, I hastened back, and findingLudwig without much difficulty, held the bottle to his lips. He seemednearly gone, but the draught revived him marvellously.
When he had drunk I asked him if I could do anything else for him. Helooked already more like himself.
'Yes,' he said, propping his back against the wheel and speaking withhis usual hardihood. 'Tell our little general where I am. That is all.I shall do now we have light. I am not afraid of these skulkers anylonger. But here, friend Martin. You asked about your Waldgrave justnow?'
'Yes,' I said. 'Has he returned?'
'He never went,' he replied coolly. 'But if I had told you when youfirst asked me, you would not have gone for water for me. He is down.He fell, as nearly as I can remember, on the farther side of thesecond fire from here.'
With a curse I ran from him, raging, and searched round that fire andthe next, like one beside himself. Many of the dead lay stripped tothe skin, so that it was necessary to examine faces. And this ghastlytask, performed with trembling fingers and by an uncertain light, tooka long time. There were men prowling about with knives and bundles,whom I more than once interrupted in their work; but the sight of mypistol, and my face--for I was full of fierce loathing and would haveshot them like rats--drove them off wherever I came. Not once but manytimes the wounded and dying begged me to stay by them and protectthem; but my water was at an end and my time was not my own. I leftthem, and ran from place to place in a fever of dread, which allowedof no rest or relaxation. At last, when I had well-nigh given up hope,I found him lying half-stripped among a heap of dead and wounded, atthe farthest corner of the barricade.
All his finery was gone, and his handsome face and fair hair werestained and bedabbled with dust and blood. But he was not dead. Icould feel his heart beating faintly in his breast; and though he laysenseless and showed no other signs of life, I was thankful to findhope remained. I bore him out tenderly, and laid him down by himselfand moistened his lips with the drainings of my flask. But what next?I could not leave him; the plunderers who had already robbed him mightreturn at any moment. And yet, without cordials, and coverings, andmany things I had not, the feeble spark of life left in him must goout. I stood up and looked round in despair. A lurid glare, a pitifulwailing, a passing of dark figures filled the valley. A hundred roundus needed help; a hundred were beyond help. There were none to giveit.
I was about to raise him in my arms and carry him in search ofit--though I feared the effect of the motion on his wounds--when, tomy joy and relief, the measured tramp of footsteps broke on my ears,and I distinguished with delight a party of men approaching withtorches. A few mounted officers followed them, and two waggons creakedslowly behind. They were collecting the wounded.
I ran to meet them. 'Quick!' I cried breathlessly. 'This way!'
'Not so fast!' a harsh voice interposed; and, looking up, I saw thatthe general himself was directing the party. 'Not so fast, my friend,'he repeated. 'Who is it?' and leaning forward in his saddle, he lookeddown at me.
'The Waldgrave Rupert,' I answered impatiently. 'He is hurt almost todeath. But he is alive, and may live, your excellency. Only directthem to come quickly.'
Sitting on his horse in the full glare of the torches, he gazed downat me, his face wearing a strange expression of hesitation. 'He isalive?' he said at last.
'Yes, at present. But he will soon be dead if we do not go to him,' Iretorted. 'This way! He lies yonder.'
'Lead on!' the general said.
I obeyed, and a moment brought our party to the spot, where theWaldgrave still lay insensible, his face pale and drawn, his eyes halfopen and disclosing the whites. Under the glare of the torches helooked so like a corpse and so far beyond aid, that it was not until Ihad again thrust my hand into his breast, and felt the movement of hisheart that I was reassured.
As for the general, after looking down at him for awhile, he saidquietly, 'He is dead.'
'Not so, your excellency,' I answered, rising briskly from my knees.'He is stunned. That is all.'
'He is dead,' the general replied coldly. 'Leave him. We must helpthose first who need help.'
They were actually turning away. They had moved a couple of pacesbefore I could believe it. Then I sprang to the general's rein.
'You mistake, your excellency!' I cried, my voice shrill withexcitement. 'In Heaven's name, stop! He is alive! I can feel hisbreathing. I swear that he is alive!' I was trembling with emotion andterror.
'He is dead!' he said harshly. 'Stand back!'
Then I understood. In a flash his wicked purpose lay bared before me,and I knew that he was playing with me; I read in the cold, derisivemenace of his eye that he knew the Waldgrave lived, that he knew hemight live, might survive, might see the dawn, and that he wasresolved that he should not. The perspiration sprang out on my brow. Ichoked with indignation.
'Mein Gott!' I cried breathless, 'and but for him you would have beenbeaten.'
'Stand back!' he muttered through his closed teeth; and his eyesflickered with rage. 'Are you tired of your life, man?'
'Ay, if you live!' I roared; and I shook his rein so that his horsereared and almost unseated him. But still I clung to it. 'Come back!Come back!' I cried, mad with passion, wild with indignation attreachery so vile, so cold-blooded, 'or I will heave you from yourhorse, you villain! I will----'
I stumbled as I spoke over a broken shaft of a waggon, and in a momenthalf a dozen strong arms closed round me. I was down and up again andagain down. I fought savagely, passionately, at the last desperately,having that cold, sneering face before me, and knowing that it was formy life. But they were many to one. They crushed me down and knelt onme, and presently I lay panting and quiet. One of the men who held mehad unsheathed his dagger and stood looking to the general for asignal. I closed my eyes expecting the blow, and involuntarily drew inmy breast, as if that poor effort might avert the stroke.
But the general did not give the signal. He sat gazing down at me witha ruthless smile on his face. 'Tie him up,' he said slowly, when hehad enjoyed his triumph to the full. 'Tie him up tightly. When we getback to the camp we will have a shooting-match, and he shall find ussport. You knave!' he continued, riding up to me in a paroxysm ofanger, and slashing me across the face with his riding-whip so cruellythat the flesh rose in great wheals, and I fell back into the men'sarms blind and shuddering with pain, 'I have had my eye on you! Butyou will work me no more mischief. Throw him into the waggon there,'he continued. 'Tie up his mouth if he makes a noise. Has any one seenLudwig?'
My Lady Rotha: A Romance Page 20
