The Lightstep (13 page)

The Count and the Prince looked at one another, and the
Prince smiled broadly. For a moment Wéry sensed a tussle in
the air between them.

'Things,' said the Prince, 'that he may well imagine I will find
difficult to grant him. And I do.'

There was a long pause.

The army of Erzberg consisted of three infantry battalions,
two squadrons of hussars, a handful of ceremonial life guards,
some dragoons employed on frontier duties, and a battery of field
artillery. At full strength it would have numbered some three and
a half thousand men. After the recent campaign, and the fight at
Hersheim, it was of course no longer at full strength.

At Wéry's last estimate the Army of the Sambre-et-Meuse had
nearly eighty thousand effectives, counting the troops who
had been dispatched for the expedition to Ireland, and who now
appeared to be returning. The Army of the Rhine was smaller, but
not by much. It would also have to watch the Emperor's garrisons
at Mainz and Frankfurt, but that made no difference. Uniting the
two commands would give Hoche all the freedom of action that
he needed.

And the Erzberg's defences were hardly defences at all: one
line of bastioned walls, a ditch, and the citadel. No outworks.
Nothing to compare with the massive fortifications Wéry
remembered at Mainz, which had held the Imperial force for
four months.

And not enough powder. Or time. Or men to captain the
guns.

'We are in a serious situation, gentlemen,' said the Prince.

No one answered him.

Beyond the ring, another man entered the bastion.

Wéry recognized the newcomer at once, from the largeness of
his head upon his delicate body, and from his long nose and pink
cheeks. It was Gianovi, the First Minister of Erzberg, strutting
purposefully towards them. He had no coat, despite the wind, but
bright white silk breeches and a dark blue velvet doublet, which
would have been better off indoors on such a day.

Following Wéry's glance, Bergesrode looked over his shoulder.

'Highness,' he murmured at his master's elbow.

The Prince turned. He showed no surprise. Instead his face
broke once more into that expression of gourmand's glee that he
had worn on greeting the army officers.

'Ah, the First Minister! Dear me – does this mean that I am
late, after all?'

The First Minister bowed.

'Your pardon, Highness,' he said smoothly. 'I have not checked
my watch. If you are late, then I am also. I had – a sudden whim
– to take the air before the Privy Council meets.'

His voice had a light accent, and his tone took it for granted
that any meeting between the Prince and the army would of
course include the First Minister as well. The officers stood rigid,
hiding behind wooden expressions. But the Prince showed no
surprise at this arrival in the middle of his council of war.

'Indeed? Indeed? We are of like mind this morning. Good!
And I have come upon an inspection of the defences, Gianovi.
These gentlemen tell me many things I find fascinating.'

Gianovi eyed the officers with a little smile. He held his huge
head a little on one side, and with his long nose and pink cheeks
he reminded Wéry of a jay on a fence, watching a snail and
wondering if it were good to eat.

'I imagine they have been instructing you in what steps are
necessary to breach the walls, Highness.'

'I do not believe we discussed that, no.'

'It surprises me,' said the First Minister in a tone of no great
surprise. 'I should have thought it was the first – indeed the
only – step that we would require of the army in our current
position.'

'Our current position?' said the Prince, as if it had been the last
thing on his mind.

'I believe the letter from General Hoche requires us, as well as
expelling forthwith from the city all who – ahem – plot against
the Republic, to make breaches in the walls of both the citadel
and the town, as evidence of our goodwill. Of course,' he added,
'I have not yet seen this letter, but I believe it is quite specific . . .'

From the expression on Bergesrode's face, the First Minister
must have quoted it almost verbatim.

'Of course you are right,' said the Prince. 'We must consider
our options.'

'We might very well consider our options,' said the First
Minister briskly, 'supposing we had more than one.'

The Prince frowned. But he did not rebuke his servant for his
tone.

'We shall appeal to the Circle, of course.'

'Of course,Your Highness. And I am sure our neighbours will
listen politely. The representatives of Ansbach and Bayreuth will
then apply to Berlin for instructions. Those instructions will take
time to come, but we can imagine what they will be. The other
Protestant princes will wait for Berlin to reject us, and will then
do the same. So, I imagine, will some of the Catholic counties. I
did happen – quite by chance – to speak with the delegate from
Bamberg this afternoon, who told me in confidence that he
would seek instructions to press for the Circle to offer help. In
the case of his state, he believes, this would mean money. The
delegates from Eichstatt and the cantons will no doubt say similar
things . . .'

'I did think,' sighed the Prince,'that my cousin Bamberg might
send a musket or two.'

'Not one state in the Circle will offer troops, because not one
state believes that we or they could possibly resist if – in an
entirely imaginary situation, which I am sure no sane man, least
of all a Prince who is father of his people, would contemplate –
if General Hoche and his legions were provoked into descending
upon us.'

His bright little eyes swept the row of officers as if to suggest
that it was they, rather than the Prince, who must be responsible
for the insanity that he had come hurrying to the bastion to
prevent.

The officers glared back at him.

'And the Emperor?' said the Prince, unperturbed. 'After all, he
has pledged to us that the integrity of the German body will be
maintained.'

Gianovi bowed. 'Your Highness is accurate. We shall of course
appeal to Vienna. We may at the same time enquire precisely what
His Imperial Majesty intended by the words "integrity" and
"German body" which seem so curiously open to interpretation.
I am sure His Imperial Majesty will consider our case – when he
can tear his mind from his negotiations with France. But we must
be prepared for the possibility that he may be slower than we
would wish to return to armed confrontation, and may perhaps
require a greater cause even than the fate of Erzberg before he
does so.'

'You may be right, my dear Gianovi,' mused the Prince. 'We
are almost helpless, it seems, in the face of the French phenomenon.
Although . . .'

And he looked away into the air, as if he were addressing no
one in particular, and contemplated only the passing of the
seasons.

'. . . Although I have wondered of late whether our helplessness,
and that of the Empire and of all the crowned heads of
Christendom, is not so much a lack of means, but of will . . .

'And whether, if that were the case, it might not be possible
for the will of Christendom to be recovered by some example, be
it never so small, from amongst the ranks of princes.'

Gianovi spread his hands.

'But
if will
were all, Highness,' he said carefully,'we might have
achieved many things that we have not. We would now have a
printed German prayer book in your territories, and cultivation
of clover, not to speak of emancipation of the serfs, reform of the
monasteries, a broadening of the university curriculum, taxation
of the nobility and many other right and just things that you have
sought over the years. Alas, we sometimes meet with a will that is
countervailing, armed with force that is – in this case –
overwhelming.'

Once more, as if to underline his point, he ran his eye over the
row of sullen officers. Someone muttered, angrily. But no one
contradicted him.

Wéry counted to three. Still no one else spoke.

And so he did.

'You are right, Your Highness.'

There was a sharp, warning look on Gianovi's face. But the
Prince beamed and nodded his head, as if it were perfectly natural
that the most junior man present might have something to say.

'Do speak, Captain. We are all friends here. Although I cannot
promise you that the First Minister will suffer you to be as brisk
with his notions as he is with mine.'

'It
is
a matter of will,' Wéry said. 'The French themselves have
proved that. In '93, they were opposed by every power in
Christendom. Yet they were not overwhelmed because the
Republic had the will to demand of its people things that we all
would have thought impossible. They conscripted their fighting
men
en masse.
Even women fought for a while. All experience was
that such armies were too big, and must swiftly starve, disperse,
and beggar the state that raised them. And maybe they did. But
still they kept fighting. In the end it was the will of the Princes
that failed.'

'An interesting parable. I have thought of this too. Is it our
conclusion, then, that to fight this Republic we must become
more like it?'

Wéry looked into the watery blue of the Prince's eyes. It was
as if the affable voice had spoken his deepest, darkest thought.

'No, sir!' he said emphatically.

'I agree we must not.
Justum et tenacem propositi virum.
But you
are saying we should be ready to do things that habit informs us
against.'

'Yes,Your Highness. Exactly.'

'I beg the Captain's pardon,' said Gianovi. 'But my wits are
slow this morning. He says "exactly". But I do not see exactly.
When Hoche has marched upon us, knocked down our walls
with his guns (since we were so disobliging that we did not do it
ourselves at his request) and proposes to accept the surrender of
the city, what
exactly
are these things that we should do?'

'One does not have to surrender simply because the walls are
breached,' said Wéry.

'That's right,' said Balcke. He sounded surprised. 'You stand
fast, they have to take you down man by man.'

'So,' said Gianovi. 'If I have understood, we have – in our
imaginations – defied the ultimatum, manned the walls, seen
them breached by our enemies and are now fighting street by
street while the city burns, the women are dragged from the
cellars and the children hoisted on bayonets. Very good. I have
two questions. One. Shall this course lead to victory? I doubt it,
but perhaps our young friend could explain. Two. Even if it led,
improbably, to victory, would it be worth it? The issue for which
we would burn our city is simply this: whether a certain foreign
nobleman – dear to our hearts, if not endearing in his ways –
should be permitted to remain here. General Hoche claims that
d'Erles and his party are agitating and arming against Paris. Well.
I suppose d'Erles and his friends have a pistol or two between
them and would remember how to load one if only they could
stay sober for long enough. I do not imagine that he is so pressed
for other havens that he would actually wish to remain here
during the unpleasantness itself. That is beside the point. But let
us suppose that after all is done, the Comte d'Erles is able to
return freely to our smoking ruins, as we are dragging our dead
from the rubble. Shall we hold ourselves vindicated when his gilt
coach rolls by?'

The gaze of the Prince swung from one side to the other.
How deftly he had removed himself from the argument! Now it
was a joust between the First Minister and the army, with the
Prince waiting to award the laurels to the victor.

'Let me propose your answer, gentlemen,' said Gianovi. 'For I
believe I do understand you. You will say that it is not for our dear
d'Erles, or even for the city, that we are concerned. For the sake
of Christendom, the church, virtue, truth, the French
phenomenon must be defied. No matter that the phenomenon
cannot be defeated. By defiance, even by sacrifice, you propose to
set an example that others may follow. I admit it is not
inconceivable that you may succeed – although history does not
encourage me to believe that you will. The ruins of Heidelberg
have stood for a hundred years, and what of that? It is a rallying
cry for a few bourgeois scholars who dream of a German nation
that does not exist. Nevertheless, the virtue that flows to you
from your ancestors demands this. Am I correct?'

'If you mean it's a matter of honour,' grated Balcke. 'Then yes,
I'd say you've understood. Just about.'

'Honour, yes. Dear me. Honour. I had forgotten,' sighed
Gianovi. 'Honour lies in fulfilling obligations. The Prince has an
obligation to his godson d'Erles, granted. It is for His Highness,
and not for you gentlemen, to judge whether the baptismal oaths
he has made should extend to sheltering d'Erles in the city when
the most powerful force in Germany demands his removal. He
has higher obligations, too, you would say. Although such
obligations are curiously difficult to define, let alone fulfil.

'But His Highness has yet more obligations: to the Cathedral
Chapter, who elected him; to the Estates, through whom his
territories are run; and to the thousands of his subjects who live
in the city where you would make your stand. These are
obligations he
can
fulfil. Should he not consider these too?'

He waved his arm over the battlements at the tiles and
chimneypots and wreaths of blown smoke below. The town
looked quiet this morning, subdued under the bluster of the
wind. A barge drifted below the New Bridge, heading for some
port downstream. A cart clattered distantly on the cobbles. There
were people moving in the streets. Away on the roof of the great
cathedral, which rose like a second citadel on its hill in the heart
of the city, tiny figures moved like ants on a small scaffolding
around one of the lesser spires.