Part 10

Gabriel on his black horse pressed irresistibly forward. The troop of horsemen, that followed his waving plume, advanced deepest into the fray. His gigantic form, overtopping all about him, and the unwearied strength of his arm, that scattered his enemies like stubble, attracted Pappenheim's attention. He had hitherto encouraged his Walloons by the brandishing of his glittering sabre, and the thunder of his voice, that was perfectly audible over the roar of battle; but at sight of the bold onward movement of this enemy's officer he suddenly resolved, like a Grecian hero of antiquity, once more to assay the oft-proved might of his sword. His afterwards world-renowned youthful rashness carried him where the throng was densest, and Mannsfield's out-lawed General was soon confronted by Count Pappenheim, the most zealous servant of his Emperor, the most ardent champion of his faith.--Both men were of gigantic stature, both felt, that by one well-aimed stroke a loss might be inflicted on the opposite party which would with difficulty be repaired. Gabriel heeded not his fixed intention, nor Pappenheim the duty of a leader; forgetful of every other consideration it seemed as if each of them desired but to achieve the object immediately before him or die.--A life and death combat ensued between the two officers, a combat such as most rarely occurs in modern warfare. Each gazed for a second motionlessly in the other's face. Pappenheim observed with astonishment a bright streak of purple, like a sacrificial flame, on the forehead of his antagonist, while Gabriel stared at the crossed swords on Pappenheim's brow.--That was the Pappenheim, that was the mark, of which the student, nine days ago at the dinner-table of his landlord, Reb Schlome Sachs' had spoken, the same student who had reminded him of his father and mother.--All the past, the immediate future, passed with the infinite-swiftness of thought before his mental vision. He desired to live, to live for his revenge. The mournful presentiment, that to-day, so near the longed for goal, he must die without having attained it, the mournful presentiment, with which he had once before on this day been imbued, sprung up with redoubled violence in his breast. That an adverse destiny should have led him to-day, this very day, against the doughtiest champion of the Imperial army!... He would gladly have retreated, but again he had gone too far, it was no longer possible to withdraw. Pappenheim stormed against him with all the mad audacity of youthful ardour, a terrible combat began. Both were unusually powerful men, both were accomplished swordsmen. Pappenheim had expected to encounter an opponent skilful as himself, but he found his master. The foreboding of death which had passed over Gabriel, had not dispirited but had made him cautious, he had acted for some time on a system of defence, but suddenly spied a weak point in his adversary's too impetuous attack and, raising himself suddenly in saddle, planted a masterly thrust which his knightly foe could not parry with sufficient rapidity.... Pappenheim dropped lifeless from his horse.... Gabriel drew a deep breath, and the Bohemian cavalry pressed bravely forward, while the cuirassiers discouraged by the presumed death of their leader began to give ground. Suddenly, however, a rumour flies through the ranks. That young Anhalt has been thrown from his horse wounded, and has fallen into the hands of the Imperialists. Gabriel heard it, and shortly afterwards orders ring out in Bubna's sonorous voice, who had succeeded to the command in place of young Anhalt--Still there is hope of victory: but the whole aspect of affairs is speedily changed.

Simultaneously with the attack upon the Bohemian right wing the Duke upon his own right had made a feigned false attack of Poles and Cossacks against the Hungarian cavalry drawn up opposite to them, an attack however soon repelled and dissipated by the resistance it encountered. The Hungarians, whose chief Bornemissa was unable to sit on horseback, allowed themselves to be deceived by this stratagem; they pursued the fugitives and looking upon themselves as already masters of the field, broke their serried ranks to seek for plunder. Duke Maximilian and Lichtenstein, who had been watching for this favourable moment, advanced with fresh choice troops against the Hungarians. Anhalt saw the danger that threatened his left, and sent reinforcements from Hohenlohe's cavalry in the centre to the aid of the hard-pressed troops. But Lichtenstein received them with a well-directed fire of cannon and musketry, the front ranks fell, and Hohenlohe's cavalry took to sudden flight without having struck a blow. A panic terror seized the Hungarians, they followed the bad example that had been given them, turned their backs upon the enemy and burst through the ranks of their own infantry. Every effort to stop the flight of the Hungarians, was vain, they threw themselves into the valley near Motol, and endeavoured to cross the Moldau by swimming; but the river was swollen, and most of them found their grave under its waves. The infantry, thrown into disorder, deserted by the cavalry and without artillery, was itself also now obliged to make up its mind for a speedy retreat.--The left wing and centre of the Bohemian army was beaten, Lichtenstein and Boucquoi had no longer an enemy before them. The Duke also made a sweep round with his right wing and main-body to the left and occupied the heights, on which Anhalt had planted the whole of his artillery, and from which his troops had advanced too far. In a short time it was in the hands of the Duke, and Frederick's soldiers were exposed to the fire of their own cannon. This happened exactly at the moment when Pappenheim had fallen, Anhalt had been taken prisoner by the Imperialists and Bubna had succeeded to the command.--Bubna ordered a retreat to be sounded. The troops, in rear exposed to the fire of the artillery, in front to the terrible onset of the Imperial cavalry, now as their services were no longer needed elsewhere united in one body,--retired in as good order as the unfavourable circumstances would admit of.--A bit of high ground to which they had fought their way between two fires revealed to them the comfortless aspect of the field of battle.... Corpses and arms that had been cast away strewed the plain. The centre and left wing was discovered in full flight. A determination had to be quickly taken. It was necessary to separate. Bubna decided that he would endeavour to conduct the horse back to Prague, so as at least to preserve the remnant of his cavalry for Frederick. Schlick and his Moravian infantry is firmly resolved to die rather than fly, and while Bubna accompanied by Gabriel turns in the direction of Prague, the Moravian regiments in serried ranks press through the victorious Imperial army, and fighting their way reach the wood of Stern, where they again make a stand, but soon succumb valiantly resisting to the last....

The victory of the Imperialists was complete, and achieved in less than an hour.--Four thousand Bohemians, among them one Count and several noblemen, had fallen. Young Anhalt, young Schlick and other superior officers were prisoners, all the artillery and camp had fallen into the enemy's hands. The loss of the Imperial-Bavarian army had been proportionally small. Count Meggau, Rechberg, and fourteen other officers had remained dead on the field, Godfrey of Pappenheim was afterwards found, alive but badly wounded, under a heap of slain.

Considering the complete overthrow of the Bohemian army, the Duke had held all pursuit of the fugitives unnecessary, and close to Prague, on the highroad, several battalions of infantry that Schlemmersdorf was leading back to Prague united themselves to Bubna's orderly masses of horse.--Schlemmersdorf held out his hand sadly to Bubna and Gabriel: all three rode in silence through the Strahower Gate. As they entered the city they saw the Palatine. He was clad, as for a feast, in satin. Habernfield had not succeeded in persuading him to come to the battle-field, he would not ride out fasting, had purposed that very day to give an entertainment, and would not betake himself to camp till the cloth was drawn. Tidings of the complete overthrow of his troops interrupted the ill-timed banquet, he hurried to the gates, where his Generals, Prince Anhalt and Count Hohenlohe were already coming to meet him. The first was without a helmet and terribly excited.

"Gracious Sire. You have lost the battle, and I my only son on the field!" he cried to him with the agitated grief of an inconsolable father: "all is lost!"

Frederick was for a moment unable to answer, violent emotion deprived him of the power of speech.--"I now know what I am," he said at length, "there are virtues which only misfortune can teach us, and we Princes discover in adversity alone, what manner of men we are."

"Gracious Sire!" now said Schlemmersdorf, who at that moment rode through the gate, in a tone of mournful reproach. "You were sitting joyously and cheerfully at table, while your army let itself be shot down before the gates in your cause."

"And you have made a fruitless sacrifice of yourselves," said Frederick sorrowfully, and a tear filled his eyes: "I am undone!"

"God forbid," cried Schlemmersdorf; "we are bringing the remnant of the army about seventeen battalions to you; the fugitives at the first blast of the trumpet will return to their standards, Mannsfield's flying division stands ready for battle in rear of the enemy, eight thousand fresh troops in support have arrived from Hungary and have already reached Brandeis.... Only give orders for the gates to be shut, and for the burghers to arm and the city can hold out against a long siege."

"What do _you_ think, Prince?" Frederick turned to Anhalt. He shrugged his shoulders. "Advise me, gentlemen, advise me, what is your opinion?" cried Frederick almost imploringly, "what should be done?"

"First of all," observed Bubna with a side glance at Anhalt, "a brave general must be nominated to conduct the defence of the city...."

"You have requested my advice, gracious Sire!" Anhalt now continued, "well then, the open street is a bad place for a serious consultation: permit me to accompany you to the castle, there we will think the matter over...."

The battle lost had not diminished Anhalt's influence over the feeble Frederick. The Palatine turned his horse, and accompanied by Anhalt, Hohenlohe and Schlemmersdorf, rode to the Hradschin. Bubna looked after them in bitter wrath.

"What do you think of doing, Bitter?" enquired Bubna after a long and painful pause.

"At all events I shall remain to-night in the city," replied Gabriel, "to-morrow we shall hear, what sort of a plan Frederick's council has hatched, and I shall guide myself accordingly.... It is settled that our Mannsfield shall continue the war, even if Frederick concludes a peace. Whatever happens, I intend to share Mannsfield's fate."

"You are no Bohemian, Bitter! you are free.... but I, I, ... I love not Frederick, I esteem him not:--but the diet has elected him: if he is obliged to leave Prague a fugitive, I must go with him, I cannot act otherwise. Only when he has obtained a secure retreat, shall I join Mannsfield--therefore Bitter, farewell!"

Gabriel pressed Bubna's hand, but suddenly the old soldier threw his arms passionately round Gabriel's neck and kissed him repeatedly with impetuosity. "You saved my life at the skirmish of Netolitz," he said, "I have never thanked you for doing it. I always believed that I should some day repay the old debt. But our paths divide--Bitter! we are approaching a period, insecure, and prolific of disorder: ... The immediate future may bring death to us, I do not know whether we shall ever meet again. Bitter! I feel as if I shall never see thee more.... I thank thee.... farewell!"

Bubna tore himself away by a violent effort, his rough powerful voice shook, large tears flowed slowly over his powder-blackened face. Without leaving Gabriel time to reply, he spurred off in the direction of the Hradschin. But once more he halted and making a signal with his hand, cried, "farewell, Bitter, for ever!"

Gabriel could make no answer from emotion, and was obliged almost to cling to his horse's neck to prevent rocking in his seat.--That strange flutter within him of a sad presentiment of death, when Schlemmersdorf called him to the field, had disappeared in the heat of the fight, but was again powerfully excited when he had stood in single combat against the awful Pappenheim. For a moment he had given himself up as lost beyond redemption. But he had conquered, he had returned without a wound, safe and sound to Prague: it seemed to him as though he had risen superior to destiny. A bold violent feeling of self-confidence in his strength attained to its highest pitch, and spite of bitter discontent for the lost battle, he still smiled within himself at the childish terrors to which he had given way. But Bubna's leave-taking, the gloomy presentiment, which the aged, gallant veteran steeled in many a battle had undoubtedly given voice to, and which Gabriel had involuntarily referred to himself, had once again violently shaken him. In swift course, as though to leave his gloomy thoughts behind, he spurred over the bridge into the Altstadt, and first held rein in the Marienplatz before his residence. His devoted armourer was waiting for him impatiently at the gate.

"Thank God, gracious Sir, you live; you are not wounded.... The battle is lost, is it not?"

Gabriel hurried, without heeding the armourer's words up the steps and beckoned him to follow. Gabriel threw himself into an arm chair, the armourer stood straight as a taper before him, expecting his orders.

"Martin!" began the General after a long reflection; "you have always been faithful to me, from my heart I thank you for it--you must do me one more service, perhaps the last. This night will decide the fate of Prague, of the whole country. I do not doubt that Frederick will follow the whispered suggestions of his council, will fly; ... in that case the ensuing morning must not find me in Prague.... I dare not fall alive into the hands of the Imperialists...."

"Only, gracious Sir, fly," interposed Martin, rubbing the back of his hand across his moist eyes; "don't lose a moment!"

"No, Martin! I must stay here to-night, I _must_ Martin!" he repeated impetuously, as if the man had contradicted him; then rapidly paced the chamber, and said softly to himself. "How, if Frederick were cowardly and wicked enough to open at once and instantly the gates of Prague for the entrance of the enemy.--How if I, the outlaw, should fall alive into the hands of the Imperialists, if I, born in ignominy, should die ignominiously by the hand of the executioner, should die without having avenged myself; ... No, no, I stay in Prague at all hazards, I _must_ revenge myself.... and then?... surely I have a trusty sword, I will never fall alive into the hands of my enemy.... Martin!" he said aloud, "in every event let two of the dragoons who accompanied me to Prague, wait for me to-morrow morning early at the Schweinthor well armed and with a saddled horse. If in the course of the night the city is put into a state of defence, it will be announced to the burghers and you will hear of it. If this is not the case, we must conclude that Frederick gives up all idea of resistance, surrenders his crown.--The best plan will be for you to go to the Hradschin and watch carefully whether the Palatine takes flight. No carriage can pass out of the city unperceived. To-morrow at daybreak you come to the gate and make your report to me. If the city is given up, I shall go to Brandeis to meet the Hungarian reinforcements, endeavour to form a junction between them and Mannsfield, and the war begins anew.--If the Imperialists march in, they will seek me; say that I escaped with the Palatine."

"Gracious Sir!" cried Martin, "fly at once, tarry not a moment. I will fly with you, I will never forsake you."

"What is the matter with you?" said Gabriel, moved in spite of the disorder of his spirits by the armourer's proposal. "You are now a domiciled citizen of Prague, no one will trouble himself about you, and when the first storm, which will only touch lofty heads, has blown itself out, you can go on with your business in peace. Consider, old man! you have only one leg, you are no longer young, a soldier's life is no longer suitable for you.... or are you afraid lest they should pay you out for your fidelity to me? No, Martin! there is no fear of that, they do not know of it, and even if they did know!..."

"No, it is not that, gracious Sir," replied Martin; "I only fear on your account. Why will you pass this night in Prague?... fly at once!"

"I _cannot_, Martin! I _cannot_," said Gabriel; "it will be time enough to fly to-morrow.... I adhere to the directions that I have given. Now leave me alone, I have still matters to think over.--We shall see one another to-morrow."

Martin lingered yet another moment. "Gracious Sir!" he said.

"Do you still wish to say anything?... Yes, I recollect, I must reward you for your faithful service, and to-morrow in my hurry I might forget it ..." Gabriel began to unlock a cabinet.

"For God's sake. Sir! How could you misunderstand me so? that is not what I desire, I am rich enough:--but grant me this favour--fly to-day, fly at once...."

Martin's obstinacy was striking. "What reason have you? Have you any information? Do you think that a rising in favour of the Imperialists will break out in the city? speak!

"No, by God Almighty, I have no information, gracious Sir!... but," he added in a low unsteady voice, "I fear, I know not why, that I shall never see you alive again to-morrow."

Gabriel gave an involuntary shudder. The words of the honest armourer accorded so exactly with Bubna's farewell.--

"Martin!" he said, after he had recovered his self-possession, "your love to me makes you take a gloomy view of everything.... I cannot set off today, I _must stay here_--my resolution is immovable!"

Martin bowed himself over the hand, which Gabriel extended to him, and wetted it with his tears.

"My resolve is unshakeable!" repeated Gabriel once more when he was alone.... this was the last word that he had addressed to Blume.... He paced the room with long strides. Physical exhaustion, unusual but easily to be accounted for, increased his intense mental excitement. His stirring life had been always full of manifold vicissitudes, but to-day in the short space of a few hours an infinity of events had been compressed. Once awakened and kept alive by suggestion, from many quarters, he could not quite banish from his soul the thought that he should die _to-day this very day_. He had often been near to death, the enemies' balls had often whistled about him, hostile daggers had threatened him, he might often before have fallen, and unavenged, and without having accomplished his design:--_But he had never been so near it_--on the faintest doubt of the success of his plan he suffered the tortures, which legend attributes to Tantalus: only more woeful.... _If he should die to-day without having revenged himself, if he should die, behind him a desolate, empty, aimless existence, before him an unknown future, then there must be a Providence, then he must have ruined more than one human life, more than one existence_.--He struggled with the whole strength of his powerful intellect against the thought that would keep rising from the depths of his soul. But the thought was intangible, irrefutable. He might assure himself thousands of times, that there was no ground for these terrors, but for the very reason that he found no sensible foundation for his apprehensions, this inexplicable coincidence of his own sensations with that of his friend Bubna, of his devoted Martin, caused him a feeling of uneasy astonishment.--But his strong mind gradually with many a struggle composed itself. He could not in truth annihilate the painful thought, but he overcame it.

"Blume's fate, her husband's life is still in my hands," he said to himself. "The immediate future may cause an alteration in our relative positions.... the grey dawn of to-morrow must not find me in Prague.... I do not know whether I shall ever see Blume again--the favourable moment for revenge must be made use of!"

One hour later Gabriel was about to step out of the back-door of his house. He was again in the dress of a student, but he had this time thrown a broad cloak about him.

"What do you want, Martin?" he enquired in surprise, as he saw the armourer, who caught him hurriedly by the arm.

"Sir," cried he, "do not enter the Jews' quarter, fly, quit the silly passion.... he entreated; what signify Jewish women to you?... do not go into the Jews' town, they are well affected to the Emperor there."

"Martin! you mean well ... but I cannot follow your advice--See," he unfolded his cloak, under which flashed a scabbard and three pistols, "I am armed, there is nothing to be afraid of. Leave me, you know me, you are aware that my resolution is immovable.--Remember, to-morrow early at the Schweinsthor."

Gabriel stepped out and hastened to the Jews' street. Martin gazed after him as long as he was in sight, then closed the postern and murmured with a sigh: "surely I shall never see him again."

* * *

The news of Fredericks complete overthrow had soon spread over the whole city, and the highest excitement prevailed everywhere. The burghers of the Altstadt had sent up to the castle, to ask what they should do, and offered themselves to enlist troops and defend the city if Frederick would remain in Prague. Frederick's answer, which he communicated to the burghers by Anhalt's advice: "that they should endeavour to make terms with the enemy, for himself he would depart at daybreak" was not as yet known. The inhabitants of the Altstadt, well disposed to Frederick, were overwhelmed, the population of the Kleinseite on the other hand, being for the most part devoted to the Emperor, rejoiced at the victory which Duke Maximilian had won. Great excitement too prevailed in the Jews' town. Numerous groups in the open street were whispering the latest intelligence; all were of the Imperial faction. Gabriel hurried through this throng. At the corner of a street he happened to run against a crowd of students. He recognised them, they were in the habit of attending the lecture room of the Assessor Reb Lippmann Heller, the same which Gabriel, in order to keep up at least the outward appearance of a student, had attended.

"How do you do Reb Gabriel;" one of the students turned quickly round, "How do you do? a pity you were not at lecture this morning, it was a lecture! I tell you, you can only hear one like it in Prague--wonderful!"