With Frederick the Great: A Story of the Seven Years' War by G. A. Henty (parable of the sower read online txt) 📖

am well off, and what misery it is to be one's own master, and to be always wondering how the day is to be got through."

"Well, you are not likely to have to complain that you have nothing to do, for some time now, Karl."

"No, cornet. I have felt a new man, since I heard the great news. There is always plenty to do, on a campaign. There are the horses to be cleaned, food to be cooked, forage and rations to be fetched. Then, too, on a campaign every one is merry and good tempered, and one sings as one marches and sits round the campfire. One may be cold and wet and hungry, but who cares? One swears at the moment, but one laughs again, as soon as the sun shines."

"Well, Karl, you had best turn in at once, for at three o'clock we shall want to be called."

"You can rely upon my waking, sir. Does my officer wish to take a full-dress suit with him?"

"No; the order is that all are to start in marching order, and that all baggage is to be cut down to the smallest proportions. No officer is to take more than can be carried in his valises."

It was the first week in August when the three columns, each twenty thousand strong, moved from their respective starting points. Although the king was nominally in command of the central division, Marshal Keith was the real commander. He rode with the king at the head of the column, and his aides-de-camp, and those of Frederick, were constantly on their way up and down the line, carrying orders and bringing in reports as to the manner in which the regiments maintained their respective positions, and especially how the artillery and baggage train kept up.

There was no necessity, at present, for taking precautions. The march would for some days lead through Prussia, and it was morally certain that the Saxon army--which was small and scattered and, even if united, would not equal the strength of one of the Prussian armies--would not attempt any serious resistance; for the country was flat, and there would be no defiles where a small force of men could successfully oppose a larger one. Nevertheless, the daily marches were long for the infantry and the baggage, but by no means fatiguing for mounted men. The staff and aides-de-camp, with their orderlies, rode behind the leaders. The troopers were sometimes employed, instead of the officers, when a short written order had to be sent back to the rear of the column.

The harvest having been gathered in, the cavalry rode across the open country, thus reducing the length of the column. The day was very hot, and the infantry opened their ranks, as much as possible, to allow the passage of what little air was moving. At nine o'clock the troops were halted. Each man had been served with a breakfast, before starting; and the haversacks were now opened, and a meal made of the bread they contained, washed down with an allowance of rough wine, carried in each regimental waggon. Then the men sat down, under the shade of greatcoats supported by ramrods and other contrivances, and either slept or talked until half-past two; when the bugle sounded. The greatcoats were rolled up and strapped on to the knapsacks, then there was a vigorous use of the brush, to remove the thick dust gathered on the march. At three the column got into motion again, and halted for the night at half-past six; when fires were lighted, coppers put on, and the main meal of the day presently served.

The rations of the officers were the same as those of the men, but the greater part of them supplemented the food by that carried in their orderlies' saddlebags. Lindsay, Fergus, and the marshals other two aides-de-camp had arranged that, when possible, they should mess together; and their servants should prepare the meal by turns, while those not so engaged looked after the horses, saw that they were fed, watered, and groomed. The servants were all old campaigners, and though neither Lindsay nor Fergus had thought of giving them orders to that effect, both Donald and Karl had laid in a stock of provisions.

Donald had cooked a pair of fowls on the previous evening. Karl had bought a sucking pig. One of the German officer's servants had a huge piece of salt beef, that had already been boiled, while the other had a hare. It was agreed at once that the fowls should be left for early breakfast; and the beef put aside for dinner, and for supper, also, if nothing else could be obtained. Karl, as the servant of the junior officer, was cook for the evening, and he acquitted himself admirably.

Each officer carried in his saddlebag a tin plate, a drinking horn, and a knife, fork, and spoon. There was no dish, but the spit was handed round, and each cut off a portion. Soup made from the ration of meat was first served, then the hare, and then the sucking pig, while the four orderlies had an ample meal from the ration of meat. A supply of spirits had been carried in the staff waggon. This they took, plentifully watered, with the meal; with a stronger cup afterwards.

The night was so fine that all agreed that it was not worthwhile to erect the tent carried for them in the waggon. At eight o'clock the order for the next day's march came out, and two of the king's orderlies started on horseback with copies of it to the commanders of brigades, who in their turn communicated to the colonels of their respective regiments.

The next evening the force encamped round Torgau, a very strong fortress, where a great store of provisions had been collected. Ample quarters were assigned to the marshal and his staff in the town. Here they halted for a day to allow the other armies, which had both farther to march, to keep abreast of them on their respective lines of route.

Then, following the Elbe, the army arrived after two marches in front of Dresden. The court of Saxony had, for years, been wasting the revenues of the country in extravagance and luxury; while intriguing incessantly with Austria, and dreaming of obtaining an increase of territory at the expense of Prussia. No effort had been made to prepare to carry out the engagements entered into with Austria; and the army, utterly neglected, numbered but some fifteen thousand. These were scattered over the country, and but poorly provided with artillery.

When, then, the news arrived that three Prussian armies had crossed the frontier, there was no thought of resistance; but orders were despatched for the whole force to concentrate at Pirna, a strongly fortified camp among the defiles of the mountains separating Saxony from Bohemia. The position was almost an impregnable one, and they could receive reinforcements from Bohemia.

On the arrival of the Prussian army the king fled, and Dresden threw open its gates. As Frederick hoped to detach Saxony from the alliance against him, the greater portion of the army were encamped outside the town; three or four regiments, only, marching in and quartering themselves in the empty Saxon barracks. The aid Saxony could render Frederick would be insignificant, but it was most desirable for him that he should ensure its neutrality, in order to secure his communications with Prussia when he marched forward into Bohemia.

Finding the king had gone, his first step was to send a general officer, with a party of soldiers, to seize the archives in the palace. Among these was discovered the prize he most desired to find; namely a signed copy of the secret treaty, between Austria, Russia, France, and Saxony, for the invasion and partition of Prussia. Copies of this document were instantly sent off to the courts of Europe, thus affording an ample justification for what would otherwise have appeared a wholly unprovoked attack by Prussia upon her neighbours. Had it not been for the discovery of this document, Frederick would probably have always remained under the stigma of engaging in an unprovoked and ambitious war; for the court of Austria had hitherto, positively and categorically, declared to Frederick's ambassador and envoys the non-existence of any such treaty or agreement between the powers.

As the queen had remained in the palace, Frederick took up his abode in another royal building, Marshal Keith and a large number of officers being also quartered there. In order to prevent any broils with the citizens, orders were issued that certain places of refreshment were to be used only by officers, while the soldiers were only to frequent wine and beer shops selected in the neighbourhood of the barracks, and were strictly forbidden to enter any others. Any soldier caught in an act of theft or pillage was to be hung, forthwith, and all were enjoined to observe a friendly demeanour to the people.

One evening, Fergus had been sent with a message to the camp, two miles from the town. It was nearly ten o'clock when he started to ride back. When within half a mile of the town he heard a pistol shot, in the direction of a large house, a quarter of a mile from the road.

Without hesitation he turned his horse's head in that direction. In a couple of minutes he arrived at a pair of large gates. They were closed, but he dismounted, fastened the bridle chain to them and, snatching the pistols from his holsters, ran along by the side of a high wall, until he came to a tree growing close to it.

With some difficulty, for his high boots were ill adapted to such work, he climbed the tree, got on to the wall, and dropped down. He was in large park-like grounds. Guided by a light in a window, he ran to the house. The door was closed. After hesitating for a moment he ran along and, soon coming, as he expected, to an open window, he at once climbed through it. A door was open and, passing on, he entered a large hall in which a light was burning.

Pausing to listen now, he heard voices upstairs and, holding a pistol in each hand and his drawn sword in his teeth, he lightly ascended the stairs. On the landing two men lay dead. Light was issuing from a half-closed door and, noiselessly approaching it, he looked in.

It was a small room. At the end stood eight or ten scared women, huddled together; while a soldier, with a pistol in one hand and a sword in the other, stood sentry over them. These were evidently the servants of the chateau, who had been unceremoniously hauled from their beds and gathered there, under a guard, to prevent them from screaming or giving any alarm. As Fergus was equally anxious that no alarm should be given, at present, he retired quietly.

A pair of double doors faced the top of the staircase. This was evidently the grand reception room and, listening intently, he could hear a murmur of voices inside. Turning the handle and throwing them suddenly open, he entered.

Upon the floor lay the body of a gentleman. A lady, pale as death and in a half-fainting condition, leant back in a settee; while a girl of thirteen or fourteen lay on a couch, with bound hands and a handkerchief fastened across her mouth.

Three soldiers were engaged in examining the contents of a large coffer of jewels. As the door opened they turned round and, on seeing a solitary officer, sprang forward with terrible oaths. Fergus shot one of them as they did so, dropped the pistol, and seized his sword. Both men fired. Fergus felt a stinging sensation in his left arm, and the pistol held in that hand dropped to the ground.

Confident in his swordsmanship, he awaited the onslaught of the two marauders. The swords clashed, and at the second pass one of them fell back, run through the body. The other, shouting for aid, stood on the defensive. Fergus heard the rush of heavy steps coming down the staircase and, just as three other men rushed into the room, he almost clove his opponent's head in two, with a tremendous blow from his claymore.