THE PHANTOM COACH: Collected Ghost Stories (30 page)

Suddenly, without a moment’s warning, as if they had sprung from the earth, an immense body of the enemy’s foot poured in upon us from the very direction in which our left wing, under Riesch, had lately passed along. In an instant, the air was filled with shouts, and smoke, and shots, and gleaming sabres—the snow was red with blood—men, horses, and artillery were massed together in inextricable confusion, and hundreds of our brave fellows were cut down before they could even draw their swords to strike a single blow.

‘Call up the Bavarian reserve!’ shouted the prince, sitting his horse like a statue and pointing up the road with his sword.

The next instant I was rolling under my horse’s feet, with a murderous grip upon my throat, a pistol at my head, and in my ears a sound like the rushing of a mighty sea. After this I remember nothing more, till by-and-by I came to my senses, and found myself, with some five or six wounded
cuirassiers
, lying in an open cart, and being transported along a country road apparently skirting the forest. I thought at first that I also was wounded and that we were all prisoners, and so closed my eyes in despair.

But as the tide of consciousness continued to flow back, I discovered that we were in the care of our own people, and in the midst of a long string of ambulances bringing up the rear of the Imperial army. And I also found that, more fortunate than my companions, I had been stunned and badly bruised, but was otherwise unhurt.

Presently Gustav came riding up, and with a cry of joy exclaimed:

‘How now,
lieber Freund!
No broken bones? All well and safe this time?’

‘All well and safe,’ I replied; ‘but sore from head to foot, and jolted almost to death. Where’s my horse, I wonder?’

‘Dead, no doubt; but if you can ride, take mine, and I’ll secure the first I can get.’

‘Is the battle over?’

He shook his head.

‘Ay,’ he said, gloomily. ‘The battle is over—and lost.’

‘Lost!—utterly?’

‘Utterly.’

And then, still riding beside the cart and bending towards me as he rode, he told, in a few bitter sentences, all he knew of the day’s disaster.

Moreau, with Generals Grouchy and Grandjean, had, it seemed, lain in wait with the main body of his army at the further end of the forest, where the great Munich and Wasserburg road debouches upon the open plain, in order to drive our forces back as soon as the heads of the first columns should emerge on that side; while Ney, prepared to execute a similar manoeuvre with his division, was stationed for the same purpose at the mouth of the other great
chausée
.

Richepanse, meanwhile, separated by an accident from half his brigade, instead of retreating, advanced with great intrepidity, and fell upon us flank and rear, as I have said, when we least expected danger. Thus it was that the Imperial army was attacked and driven back upon itself from three points, and defeated with great slaughter.

‘As for our losses,’ said Lichtenstein, ‘Heaven only knows what they are! It seems to me that we have scarcely a gun or a baggage-waggon left; while our men, herded together, trampled, cut down by thousands—
Herr Gott!
I cannot bear to think of it.’

That night we retired across the Inn and halted upon the Tyrolean side, making some show of defence along the line of the river, in the direction of Saltzburg. Our men, however, had none of the spirit of resistance left in them. The seemed as if crushed by the magnitude of their defeat. Hundreds deserted daily. The rest clamoured impatiently for a retreat. The whole camp was in dismay and disorder.

Suddenly, none could exactly tell how, a rumour went about that Moreau was about to attempt the passage of the Lower Inn.

This rumour soon became more definite.

The point chosen was distant some three or four marches from that where we were now posted.

All the boats upon the Isar had been seized and sent down the river as far as Munich.

From Munich they were about to be transported overland to the nearest point upon the Inn.

Two bridges of boats were then to be thrown across the river, and the French battalions were to march over to our attack.

Such was the information which the peasantry brought to our camp, and which was confirmed by the scouts whom we sent out in every direction. The enemy’s movements were open and undisguised. Confident of success and secure in our weakness, he disdained even the semblance of strategy.

On the 4
th
 of December the archduke called another council of war; and some hours before daybreak on the morning of the 5
th
, our whole right wing was despatched to the point at which we anticipated an attack.

At dawn, Gustav, who had been out all night on duty, came in wet and weary, and found me still asleep.

‘Rouse up, dreamer!’ he said. ‘Our comrades are gone, and now we can sing ‘De Profundis’ for ourselves.’

‘Why for ourselves?’ I asked, raising myself upon my elbow.

‘Because Riesch is gone; and, if I am not very much mistaken, we shall have to fight the French without him.’

‘What do you mean? Riesch is gone to repulse the threatened attack down the river!’

‘I mean that my mind misgives me about that attack. Moreau is not wont to show his cards so plainly. I have been thinking about it all night; and the more I think of it, the more I suspect that the French have laid a trap, and the archduke has walked into it.

And then, while we lit our fire and breakfasted together off our modest rations of black bread and soup, my friend showed me, in a few words, how unlikely it was that Moreau should conduct any important operation in so ostentatious a fashion. His object, argued Lichtenstein, was either to mislead us with false rumours, and then, in the absence of Riesch’s division, to pour across the river and attack us unexpectedly, or, more probably still, it was his design to force the passage of the Upper Inn and descend upon us from the hills in the rear.

I felt a sudden conviction that he was right.

‘It is so—it must be so!’ I exclaimed. ‘What is to be done?’

‘Nothing—unless to die hard when the time comes.’

‘Will you not lay your suspicions before the archduke?’

‘The archduke would not thank me, perhaps, for seeing further than himself. Besides, suspicions are nothing. If I had proof—proof positive—if my uncle would but grant me a party of reconnaissance—— By Heaven! I will ask him.’

‘Then ask him one thing more—get leave for me to go with you!’

At this moment three or four drums struck up the
rappel
—were answered by others—and again by others far and near, and in a few seconds the whole camp was alive and stirring. In the meanwhile, Lichtenstein snatched up his cap and rushed away, eager to catch the prince before he left his tent.

In about half-an-hour he came back, radiant with success. His uncle had granted him a troop of twenty men, with permission to cross the Inn and reconnoitre the enemy’s movements.

‘But he will not consent to let thee join,
mein Bruder
,’ said Gustav, regretfully.

‘Why not?’

‘Because it is a service of danger, and he will not risk the life of a second officer when one is enough.’

‘Pshaw! as if my life were worth anything! But there—it’s just my luck. I might have been certain he would refuse. When do you go?’

‘At mid-day. We are to keep on this side, following the road to Neubevern till we find some point narrow enough to swim our horses over. After that we shall go round by any unfrequented ways and bridle-paths we can find; get near the French camp as soon as it is dusk; and find out all we can.’

‘I’d have given my black mustang to be allowed to go with you.’

‘I don’t half forgive the prince for refusing,’ said Gustav. ‘But then, you see, not a man of us may come back; and, after all, it’s more satisfactory to get one’s bullet on the open battle-field than to be caught and shot for a spy.’

‘I should prefer to take my chance of that.’

‘I am not quite sure that I should prefer it for you,’ said my friend. ‘I have gained my point—I am glad to go: but I have an impression of coming disaster.’

‘Ah! you know I don’t believe in presentiments.’

‘I do know it, of old. But the sons of the house of Lichtenstein have reason to believe in them. I could tell you many a strange story if I had time—— But it is already ten, and I must write some letters and put my papers in order before I start.

With this he sat down to his desk, and I went out, in order to leave him alone while he wrote. When I came back, his charger was waiting outside in care of an orderly; the troop had already assembled in an open space behind the tent; and the men were busy tightening their horses’ girths, looking to the locks of their pistols, and gaily preparing to be gone.

I found Lichtenstein booted and spurred and ready. A letter and a sealed packet lay upon the table, and he had just opened the locker to take a slice of bread and a glass of
kirschwasser
before starting.

‘Thank heaven you are come!’ he said. ‘In three minutes more I should have been gone. You see this letter and packet?—I entrust them to you. The packet contains my watch, which was my father’s, given to him by the Empress Catherine of Russia; my hereditary star and badge as a count of the early Roman Empire; my will; my commission; and my signet ring. If I fall today, the packet is to be given to my uncle. The letter is for Constance, bidding her farewell. I have enclosed in it my mother’s portrait and a piece of my hair. You will forward it,
lieber Freund——
’

‘I will.’

He took a locket from his bosom, opened it, kissed it, and gave it to me with a sigh.

‘I would not have her portrait fall into rude and sacrilegious hands,’ he said; ‘if I never come back, destroy it. And now for a parting glass, and goodbye!’

We then chinked our glasses together, drank to each other in silence, clasped hands, and parted.

Away they rode through the heavy mire and beating rain, twenty picked men, two and two, with their captain at their head. I watched them as they trotted leisurely down the long line of tents, and when the last man had disappeared, I went in with a heavy heart, telling myself that I should perhaps never see Gustav von Lichtenstein again.

Throughout the rest of the day it continued to rain incessantly. It was my turn that night to be on duty for five hours; to go the round of the camp, and to visit all the outposts. I therefore made up the best fire I could, stopped indoors, and, following my friend’s example, wrote letters all the afternoon.

About six in the evening the rain ceased, and it began to snow. It was just the Hohenlinden weather over again.

At eight, having cooked and eaten my solitary supper, I wrapped myself in my rug, lay down before the fire, and slept till midnight, when the orderly came, as usual, to wake me and accompany me on my rounds.

‘Dreadful weather, I suppose, Fritz?’ I said, getting up unwillingly, and preparing to face the storm.

‘No,
mein Herr
; it is a beautiful night.’

I could scarcely believe him.

But so it was. The camp lay around us, one sheet of smooth dazzling snow; the clouds had parted, and were clearing off rapidly in every direction; and just over the archduke’s tent where the Imperial banner hung drooping and heavy, the full moon was rising in splendour.

A magnificent night—cold, but not piercing—pleasant to ride in, pleasant to smoke in as one rode. A superb night for trotting leisurely round about a peaceful camp; but a bad night for a reconnoitring party on hostile ground—a fatal night for Austrian white-coats in danger of being seen by vigilant French sentries.