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

who would see what wealth the Polish exchequer afforded him moved there in thalers.

Meanwhile, he had something on his mind he wanted to raise with Captain Poinatowski. ‘If General von Bittinghofen wanted our regiment in Danzig, why didn’t he order us all here in the first place, instead of all this to-ing and fro-ing?’

‘I imagine he wanted to see how you’d react, excellency,’ said Poinatowski.

‘React? To orders? How did he think I’d react? Do I give the impression of being insubordinate?’

Poinatowski laughed. ‘I understand your question, excellency, but I fear you are not yet attuned to our reality here in Poland. Our army is not the army of France, nor of Great Britain, excellency. Most of our officers are a mongrel corps of displaced persons. We sweep them up for gold, for we have no large cadre of our own. So we get the disgraced, the failed, the just plain greedy, often the incompetent, but all of them, invariably, with a great conceit of themselves, who see orders as more of an advisory matter, to be disputed, usually for no other reason than their own pride or contrariness and seldom through any greater tactical wisdom. So I am presuming the general asked you here to see how you would react to his plans first, before making his ideas actual orders. For as I am sure you can understand, to be seen having to coerce one’s officers to one’s will is not a look any general would wish to be known for. Nor would the chance of them downright disobeying you, be one you’d be willing to take, too often.’

‘Good grief,’ said James, shaking his head. ‘Well, here’s hoping he knows me better now.’

‘Oh, I think you can depend on that, excellency, given the very great honour he has just bestowed upon you. All implicit, needless to say. But no-one in the army will have missed the import of the mission that has been entrusted to you.’

‘Why does everybody in this damned country speak in riddles?’ snapped an irritated James.

Which drew another indulgent laugh from the Pole. ‘I warned you. Do not ask. That is the way madness lies. But, just this once as you have already embarked on your questioning, I will attempt to give you a context, so be patient please … Just because you march in the military traditions of the Duke of Marlborough …’

James knew nothing could be further from the truth.

‘… the military traditions of the Duke of Marlborough …’ James thought back, dully, to the field of Glenshiel and to all the chaos of leadership that had surrounded and blighted that day. But he said nothing, and instead wondered whether having read about Marlborough could count in any way towards marching in his military tradition.

‘… most armies of mittel Europa are forged from a baser metal,’ Poinatowski was continuing. ‘Lumpen, illiterate peasantry, who can barely speak their own language, let alone understand any complex instruction issued in it. They are closer to the horse or bullock that pulls a plough than to a thinking man. So they are whipped and bullied into lines and columns, basic commands send them right or left, forward or stand … load, point, shoot. They are not required to think for themselves, for they cannot. They have no culture in it. Nor are they encouraged. What foolish general, or even a king, would wish upon himself an army of soldiers capable of thinking for themselves? Imagine what democratical terminus might lie at the end of that turnpike? No, all that is required of a soldier is that they be more afraid of their officers than the enemy. In fairness, we Poles have had to be a little more fleet of foot than that to survive down the centuries, with our nation’s borders re-drawn with every war or dynastic marriage that comes along. We have acquired a modicum of self-awareness – a few building blocks of understanding – as you demonstrated to yourself, with your orders that day against those Russian hussars.’

‘My orders? And they demonstrated what, exactly?’ said James, trying not to sound exasperated. ‘No orders could have been simpler, or more straightforward, that day.’

‘To you maybe, excellency,’ said Poinatowski. ‘But think. You required a substantial body of troops to hold more than one order in their heads at a time, and then execute them in a sequence that required timing and concentration. I do not know any other body of troops here capable of such complexity, on our side or the enemy’s. But your regiment managed it. And are now famous for it. Everybody knows it, including the general. Imagine how he feels today. Not only has he a senior officer he can rely upon to obey his orders, he has a commander who actually, just might be capable of successfully conducting irregular manoeuvres against the enemy without his command collapsing into a confused rabble. What joy! What prospects for breaking the wheels off the Russians’ sedate encirclement! Which is why we speak in riddles … so as not to lend ourselves hostage to fortune.’

‘So I am now the favourite, am I?’ asked a now sardonic James. ‘Thank you for your most enlightening lecture.’

‘It was my duty, excellency, and I give you joy of your new status, with only two further words to add, by way of an advisory – professional jealousy.’

After James had bid farewell to Poinatowski, he went off to settle his affairs with the banker. It transpired Mr MacDougall knew the house of Ferdinand von Kettler – apparently the old man did not use his title in the city – so, his business done, James set out to call on Dorothea.

She was not there. When he asked when she might be back, the old duke, in a full wig that dragged on him like a pack-mule’s panniers, said absolutely nothing. James was not actually asked to leave the house