By My Sword Alone by David Black (ebook reader ink TXT) 📕

at any given moment. Knowledge is power, chevalier. Watch, and listen, and learn.’

James Lindsay decided he liked her, but he also remembered the word de Valençay had warned him never to use in his presence.

And then it was their turn to be accosted.

A boy in a cornet’s uniform was at James’ elbow.

‘Excellency! Excellency!’

James turned to snap, but the boy’s face was so full of eager urgency all he managed was, ‘And what can I do for you, young man?’

‘Colonel Chevalier Lindsay is to report to the Zamek Królewski, forthwith, excellency! A carriage is waiting outside, excellency!’

At the mention of ‘the Zamek Królewski’ Dorothea’s eyes blazed.

‘Then lead on, young man,’ and James steered Dorothea towards the tall doors. The young cornet’s brow furrowed as he saw the grandly dressed gräfin sweep past him. ‘I, em, I …’

‘Do your orders specify Chevalier Lindsay, alone?’ said James.

‘No, excellency.’

‘Then let us all proceed.’

*

The meeting with King Stanislas I was a low key affair, in a small ante-room of the palace. The king was wigless and had obviously come out from his wardrobe, in mid change, to greet this colonel of his famous the Dzików dragoons.

He cut the jowly, rubber-lipped figure of a middle-aged baker or cobbler or some other such artisan, and he looked tired, but with a determined set to him.

‘Colonel Chevalier Lindsay, come, embrace me!’ he said, in perfect French. ‘Let not two fighting men stand on foolish ceremony!’ And without more ado the king stepped forward and threw his arms around James, who could only imagine the look on Dorothea’s face. Who’s well connected now? he was thinking.

‘And Gräfin von Kettler,’ said the king, standing back, and holding out his hand to be kissed. ‘So pleased to see you at my court in these times. I trust your mother is well?’

Dorothea touched her lips to the back of the royal hand, and retreated one step. ‘She is, your majesty.’

‘And I see you have already made the acquaintance of our hero of the moment,’ he added with a benevolent smile that said he knew this young woman well. ‘I would have expected nothing less of you, Dorothea. Hah! Hah!’ And his great laugh boomed out.

‘Hero, your majesty?’

‘How demure of you to pretend you do not know,’ said the king, archly. ‘Only this very morning he has defeated a Russian army of 18,000 men in the hills to the south of the city, with only two squadrons of the Dzików dragoons!’

Then he turned to James and said, ‘A great victory for our cause, which we shall never forget!’

James was on the point of interrupting him, to point out that it had been only a minor cavalry skirmish, which had indeed gone well, but mainly because his two squadrons had probably marginally outnumbered the Russian hussars, and the Russians had been inexpertly handled. But something in the looks all round told him it would be wiser to keep his mouth shut. All he said was, ‘Your majesty is too kind. Any of your officers would have performed with as much zeal.’

‘But chevalier,’ said the king, overflowing with benevolence, ‘any of my officers were not there. You were!’ The king then commanded, ‘Dorothea! Embrace the chevalier for his bravery! Kiss him!’

Dorothea turned her head so as the king could not see the sudden wickedness in her eyes as they met James’, and she obeyed, with a relish James could not fail to experience.

‘Now, chevalier!’ barked the king, once Dorothea had disentangled herself. ‘General von Bittinghofen has orders for you. We are on the move this very night. We cannot stand against this Russian army; we have not enough men.’

James, with a little ironic smirk to himself, found he was reflecting on how short a time the fruits of his morning victory had lasted, when just two squadrons had been enough Poles to see all those Russians off, apparently.

But no such reflections were assailing the king. ‘However, the city of Danzig we can defend, until assistance arrives from our friends. So go now and prepare your men. And see that the gräfin is provided with a comfy coach too. I’m sure I can depend on you for that, you gallant fellow, eh?’

They were all the same, these kings.

9

The Siege of Danzig, Part One

The cold defied belief. James had never felt anything like it, where your breath condensed and froze on your face and the end of your nose and in your eyelashes, and the air you breathed burned your throat and caused your teeth to ache. And it had been like this for days now, with no sign of it lifting. When he’d complained the locals had laughed at him and told him to get used to it; it would be like this now, until April.

He was out riding along the sluggish stretch of water the locals called the Martwa Wisła, or Mottlau river, a tributary of that great river, the Vistula, which emptied into the Baltic several leagues to the east of here.

There was ice in the water, drifting on the flow, and the water that was flowing looked almost viscous, with vapour curling up in wisps, so much colder was the air above it. Estelle’s hooves crunched the snow in a rhythmic syncopation with the plodding of the other horses following on behind. Their sound was sharp in the cold air, utterly echoless, deadened by the endless muffling carpet of white. James was not alone. Immediately to his rear was a young cornet of the Dzików dragoons he’d co-opted as an aide, and behind him, three troopers, one carrying his personal guidon.

The cornet was an eager young man whose noble family name was another of those consonant wastelands that, when he’d tried to pronounce it, he’d drawn only barely concealed smirks from all within earshot. Since then he referred