THE DEFENCE OF THE LECH.
Two Bavarians had been recommended to him as aides-de-camp, men of good
breeding and great courtesy. They had arrived with the Elector
Maximilian, but had asked Tilly as a favour to be attached to an officer
of experience with the view of learning all they could. In some way
Nigel's name came up, and to Nigel they were attached. Nigel found their
society and their comradeship very agreeable, and kept them constantly
employed. At the table their talk ran much on the notable warriors of
old and modern times, and personal daring and valour they extolled as
the most godlike virtues: from which Nigel deduced that they had seen
little of actual service, for men who have been through the grim
experience of a hardly-fought campaign, not to say two or three, know
how little these avail at one time, how greatly at another, according to
the twists and turns of fortune or the success of strategy: know how
they are displayed by the commonest soldier or by the greatest general
without bragging, or any claim to be considered unusual. But the two
aides were not much older than himself, and very devout men, and there
was no harm in their talk if it was rather too much in one tune.
Gustavus' army made a formidable show as it took up a position on the
high ground on the opposite bank of the Lech. Nigel noted that his
artillery was lighter and more numerous than Tilly's, and his batteries
were placed more closely together on ground that was somewhat higher
than Tilly's, and therefore should have more effect gun for gun, and
showed an intention of making a great attack on one spot.
Nigel knew that their own position was a strong one, and with the river
swollen as it was by melting snows, that it was practically impossible
for Gustavus to push home his attack, however heavy the fire of his
artillery, without a bridge.
On the morrow when day broke the artillery on both sides began their
clamour, and, although a few shots fell into the midst of the most
forwardly placed regiments, the battle for hours was between artillery.
The position chosen for his artillery by Gustavus showed at once the eye
of the strategist, for the fire swept across the northern angle of the
triangle, and in that area the fire was constant and appalling in its
severity. If Tilly had chosen the post of posts for Nigel that offered
the greatest number of chances of death, that was it. Nigel even thought
that Father Lamormain's exhortations to get slain, if possible, were in
a fair way to fulfilment. And to his surprise his two aides-de-camp,
unaccustomed as they were, showed a noble rivalry in devotion. They
dared the most hazardous risks, while they carried his orders to the
different contingents, with an air of doing nothing notable which
charmed Nigel, though it made him shake his head. For his own part he
urged upon his artillery commander the greatest economy in his fire, to
direct it with the greatest care upon one selected spot till he had put
the enemy's guns to silence, and to reserve himself and his men as much
as possible for the attempt to cross that would surely be made later in
the day.
Then on the Swedish bank of the river a great smoke arose from fires of
damp wood and straw. The wind blew it into Tilly's camp, where it
mingled with the smoke of the artillery. It soon became difficult to see
what was forward.
"The bridge!" said Nigel. "He is building a bridge!"
For long it was impossible to be sure where it was being begun. The
noise of hammering was lost in the noise of the firing. The smoke
belched forth for hundreds of yards along the river bank. The fire of
Gustavus' ordnance continued, relentlessly pounding away upon all the
batteries of Tilly within range, and being light, their position was
changed from one half-hour to another as the Swedish officers thought
fit.
"A bold swimmer might spy it out!" was the suggestion of one
aide-de-camp.
Nigel had thought of it; but for a man to go into that icy and turbulent
water was to meet certain death, even were he roped. He would be numbed
before he could see anything, or shot by some of the Swedes, who
doubtless lay securely along their higher bank.
A boat, a raft, anything that floated on the surface would be a mark.
No! There was but one way, to wait till the bridge workers had advanced
to mid-river and then shatter their handiwork. But with what engine?
Nigel had discovered that the guns of the Swedes from their slightly
higher elevation commanded all the available pieces of Count Tilly,
raking the Imperial entrenchments with a desolating precision.
Yet a reply had to be made. Every officer that could be spared was busy
encouraging the gunners to face the enemy and load their pieces, sponge,
ladle in the powder, ram home the fresh charges, with the certainty that
here and there along the line a great ball would come, smashing backs
and limbs, or terrifying the manhood out of their veins.
Again and yet again Nigel himself would snatch the rammer from a
trembling wretch and ram home the charge: would point the gun, wedging
it up to get the greater height needed. It was desperate work. And his
two aides worked like him, shirking nothing.
A little change in the breeze and he saw where the Swedish engineers,
working like men possessed, pushed out the bridge a few planks at a
time, fastening them to pontoons which others rolled down to them. Now
he knew his direction, and five of his guns were trained directly on to
the growing bridge. But scarcely had they dropped their first hustling
load of round-shot than a furious cannonade of the Swedes put the whole
five out action. No gunners' bravery availed, or could avail. It was
tempting useless slaughter.
Then Nigel led down files of musketeers from the entrenchment and
disposed them along the banks to scare away the workers, but the enemy
did likewise, and so harassed the musketeers that few of their shots
reached a mark at all.
All along the banks on either side the battle raged in some sort. Mainly
it was an affair of cannon-balls, but wherever musketry could be
expected to make an impression Tilly ordered his men forward, exposing
himself to the continual cannon fire. But everywhere the Swedes made the
greater havoc, though the position, if resolutely defended, was still
impregnable, and the Imperialists became more and more depressed.
The bridge crept out another yard. It could be seen how Gustavus was
bringing up a fresh picked body of his veterans, Swedes all of them,
calm, resolute, bearded men, bronzed and scarred with many a fight,
ready for the rush across that would herald the hand-to-hand fighting
that would follow.
Nigel hated the suspense. He longed for the moment when he could lead
down his musketeers and pikemen to the crash of the charge. And yet was
it wise to wait? Could nothing be done?
A raft with twenty men upon it? Dare he? He named it to his aides. Dare?
They would dare. They need not risk his life, more valuable than theirs.
Here was greater fighting to be done. There was no taunting. But how
skilfully they plied him too!
Up the river four hundred yards to give it greater impact they got some
of the Bavarian woodmen to lash logs together and cross them with other
logs, and three men from the banks of the Danube to guide the raft as
well as they could and fend it off the banks with long poles. A small
keg of powder and a hatchet apiece made the cargo for this short voyage.
Except the polemen, the rest crouched low, holding by the ropes.
Nigel was there. He did not ask himself why he was there, risking his
life, but what he would be able to do.
The river boiled and swirled. The logs creaked. The whole raft would
have turned if it could, if it had not been for the frantic straining of
the polemen.
The setting out of the voyagers was unnoticed amid so much din and
turmoil, but they had scarcely fared half the way in less than a minute
of time than musket-shot came scrambling among them. Two hundred yards
more, a mere leap it looked along the water. They held their breath and
braced their limbs for the shock. There was the half-built bridge. A
crash! What a rending, and churning of the waters! They were upon it,
the raft driven half upon it; of the raft's crew half of them were
hurled into the river, the other half upon the bridge. Five of the
bridge builders went down before them, two of them to Nigel's sword.
Then the keg of powder was staved in and set endwise under the planking
and a match made ready. But the bridge builders were reinforced by
twenty stout pikemen, who pushed on to the bridge head and thrust at
Nigel's men with fury.
It was an unequal contest, for while five men engaged the enemy, the
other five or six endeavoured to free the raft from the timbers of the
bridge, and Nigel waited in the deadliest peril, firing the match.
The raft was wellnigh free, the water began to take hold of it again,
twisting it determinedly, when the Swedes, checked for the moment by the
stubbornness of the Imperialists, bore down their opponents. But Nigel
had got the tarred rope well alight. "Now for your lives!" he said, and
regardless of pike-thrust and musket-shot they flung themselves on to
the raft and swept on, while the powder sullenly exploded, breaking
loose a full half of the work completed, and blowing seven or eight
stout pikemen into the waves.
For Nigel there was the rushing water, a volley of musketry, a sharp
pain followed by a momentary sensation of falling into the stream, then
nothing.
But night was drawing in, and Gustavus could not cross.