Chapter 14
On the road to Kassa (Košice)
Near the High Tatras
Groomsmen tied fetters around the front legs of the troubled horse. They ran ropes through the neck and girth straps to give themselves control and pull power if the horse decided to buck or try to bolt. Christian von Jori watched the procedure in dismount, waiting to give the word while the rest of the company continued to follow the Sunrise toward Kassa. He had hoped to make the entire trip without losing a horse, or horses, in this case. No such luck.
“Very well,” he said, giving the nod as the groomsmen were ready. “Bring it down.”
Together, three groomsmen pulled the ropes while the other two controlled where the horse would fall. It was proving to be difficult. The horse, even in its debilitated state, struggled to break free of the fetters. Two cavalrymen passing by stopped, dismounted, and gave assistance. The horse was then brought under control. Finally, it fell.
The fetters and rope were kept in place and held tightly as Christian came forward to inspect the right hind leg. He pressed his fingers into the swelled tendons. The horse whinnied and kicked, but the fetters held firm. He placed the leg down.
Damn!
“Stand back, please,” he ordered. He pulled his pistol from his holster and aimed it toward the horse’s chest. The modern Santee would do its work quickly, he knew, though he hated using it in this capacity.
He pulled the trigger, the gun fired, and the horse stopped fighting.
The groomsmen removed the fetters and used them to bring the second horse down in the same manner. Christian inspected its front left hoof. A small bone fracture that, if allowed to persist, would continue to grow until the horse simply could not walk, much less trot or gallop. Infection would set in and, ultimately, death.
He pulled another loaded pistol from his saddle holster and did the deed quickly.
“Have the regimental cooks field dress them both and have the meat packed in salt,” he said to the horse’s riders, climbing back onto his own horse and tucking away his pistols. “You can skin them as well and keep the hides if you like. Collect their tail hair and give it to the medical corps. They’re always in need of suture material.”
Christian turned away from the two bloody carcasses and regained his place in the line of cavalrymen making their way to Kassa.
Kassa (Košice)
Northern boundary of the Great Hungarian Plain
Christian rounded the corner and raised his gloved hand quickly to keep from being blinded by a hot, bright light rising behind the rolling hills beyond the city walls. He was disappointed, not only because he couldn’t see the path forward and thus guide his horse effectively, but because his company, along with the rest of Colonel Renz’s cavalry regiment, were entering the city as rear guard for the Grand Army of the Sunrise. Rear guard and protector of the supply train. An honorable duty, indeed, but not one that always garnered the most glory.
It had been decided that the Joshua Corps, supported by flankers from Colonel Burkenfeld’s First Cavalry Regiment, would have the honor of leading the army into Kassa, to some fanfare and spectacle, for rumor had it that Jews were not permitted to live in the city itself. Those living outside the city walls could enter it by day, but were then ushered out every evening. When General Roth heard of this injustice, giving the Joshua Corps the lead was an easy decision to make.
“You should wear your hat, sir,” Lieutenant Karl Enkefort said, bringing his horse up alongside Christian’s. “The one I gave you?”
Christian paused, then said in a near whisper, “It doesn’t fit me, Lieutenant. And the damnable brim keeps falling down over my eyes. Might as well wear a blindfold.”
The lieutenant struggled to hide a chuckle. “Yes, sir. My apologies. Perhaps we can find you one that’s more befitting the shape of your head…sir.”
Karl Enkefort was one of the veterans of the company. He had been a sergeant under Captain Tideman, but Christian had promoted him to lieutenant. He had a terribly dry wit, one that could easily run him afoul of his superiors, but his organizational skills were excellent. Right now, Christian needed all the help he could get on that score. Being a company commander was an honor, save for all the administrative work, day after day, hour after hour. Keeping up with the roll to ensure men were being paid properly and on time for their service; ensuring that each man received his daily ration of food; making sure that men did not recklessly waste ammunition firing haphazardly into the wood line along the march, for sport or game; keeping them from drinking excessively on the march and thus, getting into fights which, more often than not, saw them injured or dead; ensuring that they had adequate clothing and bedding… An endless stream of tedious details that gave Christian a headache. Thankfully, Lieutenant Enkefort was good at keeping it all under control.
“My head is perfectly shaped, Lieutenant, and far better looking now with my new eye patch. It’s the hat that’s the problem.”
At Isaac’s request, Nurse Devorah Bayer had fashioned Christian a new eye patch out of black silk. The strap lay a little tight across his forehead, but it stayed in place even during a rigorous march as they had just finished. His eye patch was too tight, his hat too loose.
What a way to start a campaign!
The road sloped down, and the sun dipped behind the distant hills. Christian dropped his hand with a deep sigh and a head shake and guided his horse back to the center of the road. “How are the men?”
Enkefort nodded. “Very good, sir.” He shifted in his saddle and pointed to the rear. “We’re strung out from here back to Neuneck’s men at the head of supply.”
Christian nodded and looked back to where the lieutenant was pointing, though the column was too long and the road too winding to see the supply train. “Any concern with the horses?”
“No, sir, not since those two you had to put down. Fatigue, of course, both with the men and their steeds. We pushed pretty hard, as you well know. Otherwise, we’re in good condition. Be nice to bivouac soon, though, to give everyone a good rest.”
Colonel Renz had organized the Second Cavalry Regiment into ten companies of roughly one hundred men each, plus supporting staff. Right now, Christian’s company was a little understrength, with only about eighty viable soldiers, a mixture of both medium and light cavalry. Now that they had arrived in Kassa, Christian hoped that their personnel issues would be addressed and solved. There was always that hope.
The road curved sharply along a wooded hillside. Colonel Renz came into view, waiting with his staff on the edge of a steep escarpment, spyglass in hand and trained toward Kassa.
Christian’s horse clopped through a fresh pile of dung. The smell annoyed him, which was surprising because, as Isaac might say, Christian’s sense of smell should be “blind” to such offal at this point in his military career. He rubbed his nose vigorously. “Keep the men in line and moving forward, Lieutenant Enkefort,” he said. “I need to speak with our regimental commander.”
“Yes, sir.” Enkefort saluted quickly, turned his horse away, and disappeared down the column.
✧ ✧ ✧
Christian waited while Colonel Renz finished his survey of Kassa. The colonel then handed his spyglass to his aide-de-camp. He sighed and stretched, then said, “It’s a beautiful city, no?”
To Christian, Kassa was no better or worse than any other city he had seen in Bohemia, Poland, or anywhere else.
In the distance, nestled against the hills that protected the rising sun, was a walled city atop its own bluff. Two walls, in fact, protected the citizens and the buildings therein. From his vantage point, Christian could see the steeple of a great cathedral, a castle, and other towers rising through a dying fog. Below the bluff and outside the walls were common homes, farms, and cropland in support of the city. A typical eastern European city in Christian’s mind.
“Yes, sir,” he said, “it’s quite lovely.”
“Thank our God we’re here,” Renz said. “Another few days, and we might have been in a bit of trouble.”
“My company only lost two horses, sir.”
“Did you salvage the meat?”
Christian nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Very good. Then I want you to keep your men moving, Captain. Per General von Mercy’s orders, we’re not to enter the city.” He pointed to the Hernád River, which snaked its way along the edge of Kassa. “Bivouac your men on the east side of the river. Find a good spot, set camp, and sit tight.”
“Yes, sir. Have we encountered any resistance up the column?” Christian asked.
Colonel Renz shook his head and chuckled. “None. General Roth said they folded like a cheap suit.”
Christian furrowed his brow. “What does that mean?”
“Damned if I know. One of those up-time expressions.” The colonel huffed. “They’re going to kill the German language with all of their silly talk.”
Christian wasn’t so sure of that, but said nothing. During his time as a mercenary for the Sunrise, he had found many up-time sayings delightful and oftentimes much more expressive of the situation than the more brusque German expressions. Perhaps it was a matter of personal taste. Colonel Renz had an air of the aristocracy about him, though Christian had never been able to learn the colonel’s background. The colonel could like or dislike up-time expressions all he wanted, so long as he was a good commander. So far, Colonel Renz was proving to be one.
“Sir, will I have an opportunity to acquire more horses for my company?” Christian asked, leaning forward in the saddle to catch the colonel’s eye. “I’m understrength. I need twenty, twenty-five more men. I know that there are companies over strength. I’d like your permission to—”
“You know as well as I do, Captain,” Colonel Renz said, “that mercenaries are very particular about whom they serve. Especially the cavalry. They pick a captain and stick with him. But, you have leave to try.” He turned to his aide-de-camp. “Which of our companies are over budget?”
The aide-de-camp, a man not much older than Christian, pulled some papers from his leather satchel and reviewed them quickly. “Truckmuller, Mitzlaff, and Horst.”
“Very well. Speak with them and see if they can accommodate your needs.”
Behind them on the road, the army moved right along. Christian’s company had just finished passing. Neuneck’s cavalry were now moving into view, clopping through piles of dung and muddy sloshes of evening rain.
“Catch up with your company, Captain,” Colonel Renz said. “Keep moving forward. And remember. Smile and greet with kindness the citizenry that come out of their homes to observe our march. As the commanding general orders, we’re to be seen as liberators, not conquerors.”
Christian nodded. “Yes, Colonel.”