Steadily they progressed over the gently undulating hillocks, the horse knowing to avoid the muddy hollows, patiently plodding on.
Incredibly this must be the open country between the lines-and still nothing.
His flesh crawled with anticipation of a suspicious volley but in the unnatural quiet he shambled on and on. There were other men now, staring out at him but in a different dress, which he recognised-Uvarov’s Smolensk Grenadiers.
Keeping up his pretence he let the horse amble on until a kindly Jaeger sergeant took the bridle. “You can rest now, old man, you’re safe with us,” he said, holding out an arm to help him.
Briskly, he threw aside his smock and slid down.
“Take me to your officer,” he demanded in perfect Russian.
He had done it.
“His Majesty is dining and may not be disturbed on any account,” the haughty major-domo said icily.
The politesse of the Hohenzollern court-in-exile was not about to be put aside for an unannounced arrival, no matter the gravity of his news, and Gursten was taken to a reception room. He fumed. It had already taken three hours to find and borrow the required dress uniform, and now this!
He had reported to Bennigsen, his headquarters lying on the way to Konigsberg, and then with a courier’s warrant had galloped madly to the Pregel river and the city. Blucher, the military aide-de-camp, had been grateful for his report but all decisions lay with His Imperial Majesty King Friedrich Wilhelm, Elector of Brandenburg, and nothing could be done until his pleasure was known.
“Flugelleutnant Klaus Gursten,” the equerry intoned at last.
He entered with every expression of respect-whatever his faults, his sovereign was heir to Frederick the Great.
“Your Majesty,” he murmured, from the depths of an elaborate bow. He straightened and made an elegant but lesser bow to the Queen, the much-admired Luise of Mecklenburg-Strelitz.
Friedrich frowned, but then his noble brow cleared. “We are always minded to hear from our loyal officers, Leutnant. Do you have news for us at all?”
“Majesty, I’m to report from Generalleutnant von Hohenlau with much urgency. He is at present under siege from the French and-”
“Siege? How can this be?”
“Sire, we were ordered to extend our lines to the sea and while so extended Marshal Soult pierced our flank and, with superior forces, continued on to encircle us. We are now beleaguered.”
“And you crossed the lines to tell us so?”
“Sire.”
“A brave and entirely meritorious act. Be assured I shall remember this at the next levee, which I believe shall be no later than-”
“Majesty, the Generalleutnant is desiring to know your wishes in respect of his position. Should he fall back on Heilungen or stand as ordered?”
“Ah, Leutnant Gursten, I know von Hohenlau well, the stubborn old fellow, and if it is a question of orders he would as soon die as yield. He will stand and I honour him for it.”
“Sire, it’s an entire division and more he has with him that-”
“Leutnant! You have done your duty in reporting. Leave us to the strategicals. Right, Blucher?”
“Your Majesty, the leutnant is no doubt alluding to the parlous situation of any army left to its own devices. If it’s not supplied it must fall, no matter what heights of courage are shown.
“I put it to you, sire, that if we cannot supply he must necessarily break out, and at immeasurable cost. I cannot at all see how it is possible to divert a sizeable portion of our remaining troops to force a corridor through to von Hohenlau.”
“Good God, Blucher! First you say that he cannot retire without ruinous loss, now you say he cannot be supplied! Are you seriously demanding I order a capitulation?” The King’s pale face reddened.
The bluff general stood erect, splendid in his dark blue full-dress uniform and silver epaulettes, his eyes fierce, and said nothing.
“Sire, there may be an alternative,” dared Gursten.
“What did you say?”
“Sire, Generalleutnant von Hohenlau has extended to the sea. Cannot we make supply with boats?”
“Ha!” spat Blucher. “You’ve forgotten something. The Prussian Navy in Rostock was trapped when Bernadotte took Pomerania. We’ve nothing left will protect your boats, sir!”
“We have nothing, but our allies have, sir.”
“Who?”
“The English are masters of the seas. Cannot we ask them to-”
“It’ll be too late. By the time we get word to London …”
“I wasn’t thinking of such, sir.”
“Then what?”
“They trade much in the Baltic, and guard their ships well. Should we request a service of their men-o’-war, I’m certain they’ll come to the aid of an ally.”
“A fine idea,” Friedrich said, looking relieved. “As may well prevent a regrettable humiliation.”
Blucher glowered. “And just how do you propose to ask ’em? Wave some sort of flag as they go past? Do you know where they are?”
“Sire,” Gursten said stiffly, “I request permission to requisition a vessel to sail out and find the nearest English ship of war to aid us.”
“Granted.”
There was no shortage of vessels. Coastwise trade had been paralysed and he was able to choose a fast-looking two-master.
“Where do you wish to go, Leutnant?” the captain asked respectfully.
“Why, out to meet an English cruiser!”
CHAPTER 17
AT PRECISELY THE RIGHT POSITION in the middle of the Baltic Sea, Lively struck her foremast pennant and the convoy ceased to be. They had reached the dispersal point and the merchantmen quickly clapped on sail and made for their various destinations, with their cargoes of cheap muslins, quiltings, dimities and crockery, tinware, machinery, boots and woollens. They were headed to Memel in the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, Riga in Livonia and Reval-old Hanseatic ports trading freely and profitably with Britain in defiance of Bonaparte.
Lively and her escorts, however, lay to, for their job was not yet done. There would be a returning Baltic convoy. The ancient medieval towns were trading timber, hemp, iron and tallow, vital supplies in keeping the Royal Navy defiantly at sea, England’s wooden walls and the last defence of the islands.
For Tyger it had been an uneventful five days on passage. Kydd had exercised the men but with a regular honing, not a harsh forging. While there was clear improvement there had been no real challenges in the Baltic.
There was little to do as they lay comfortably a-weather. It was the smaller cutters and brigs that did the hard work, bustling about to shepherd their charges, issue upcoming sailing-order instructions and see to convoy details while the two frigates remained as the unmoving visible centre of preparations.
The convoy was shaping up well in assembly when, one morning, Lively hung out Tyger’s pennants. This was unusuaclass="underline" the two frigate captains had taken to dining each other out alternately, exchanging whatever news there was at that time.
Aboard Lively Hozier greeted Kydd warmly, then went on, “Dear fellow, I’ve been handed something of a puzzler. I’ve a German cove come aboard from a merchantman-all in the right rig, as far as I can tell-who claims he’s an emissary of the King of Prussia and is in a bit of a heat over some army they seem to have stranded. Not much English, but demanding our assistance as an ally. They are, aren’t they?”
“Didn’t they stay out of Pitt’s coalition? If so, they’re not.”
“Ah, but recollect, the new one we started last year?”
“I’m no lawyer, David, but I’d wager a coalition is not an alliance anyway. We’re not bound to get tangled in their problems-and, besides, what the devil can we do to save an army? I’d say we send the beggar away with our warmest regrets and stay with our main duty.”
“They’re fighting the French, and must tie down an awful lot of Boney’s best. Seems a pity we can’t do something for ’em.”