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Chapter 57

Southern battle line


Usan could smell the faint scent of naphtha from the hull of the Ifrit to his right. Steam and smoke billowed out of its chimney and exhaust valves. It was primed and ready to go, as were his men, waiting patiently behind all three tanks. Waiting for his order to attack.

“The Chaldiran,” one of Matei’s aides said, pointing toward a split in the clouds.

From it emerged the airship. Like water bursting from a tube, it dipped lower, signal flags waving madly on the starboard side. Too madly, in fact, for Usan could not keep up with all of it. He tried waving to Mordechai to slow down, but the kafir could not or would not respond. Usan sighed and did his best to catch everything.

“What are they saying?” Matei asked, his voice high and anxious.

The voivode’s sudden appearance startled Usan. He drew his own red flag and waved his acknowledgement to the Chaldiran. The airship confirmed his reply, sped up, and flew over the raging battle lines.

“What did they say?” Matei asked again.

“The battle is going well above the capital,” he replied. “Victory is imminent.”

“Is that all?”

Usan shook his head. He pointed to his right, up the Maros River Valley toward the center of the battlefield. “No. They also say that the enemy has a thin defense in the center, along the river in that direction.” He paused, then: “They recommend that we move into the center and exploit this weakness.”

“Is Lupu going to do so as well?”

Usan shrugged. “I cannot say, my lord. I could not catch all the message.”

Matei spit and turned toward the ridgeline. Usan followed.

Artillery on both sides had all but ceased firing, as the lines were now too thoroughly entangled. Only the mortars on the enemy side fired from time to time, into the flanks. Wasteful, Usan thought. Such firing had done little or nothing to stem the steadied, patient Wallachian advance. Stragglers and wounded were falling back for protection on both sides.

Usan offered his spyglass to Matei. The voivode took it and focused on the left flank.

“It’s time to really push them,” Matei said. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Usan nodded. “Yes. The Ifrits and my orta are ready to go, my lord.”

Matei handed the spyglass back. “I’m not talking about your men, Usan. I’m talking about the cavalry. Are Captain Dordevic’s Serbians ready?”

“Yes,” Usan said, “as are our Ottoman sipahi.”

“Very well, then. Get word to our cavalry to attack in a—what do you call it—an envelope?”

“Double envelopment, my lord,” Usan corrected politely. He suppressed a smile. Matei Basarab was no soldier, for sure. “A double envelopment led by cavalry, followed with infantry.”

“Let us do that,” Matei said. “Get word to Captain Dordevic, and to the sipahi, to attack on the flanks immediately.”

“What of my orta?” Usan asked. “The Ifrits? If we attack the Jews now, my lord, we could rout them.”

Matei shook his head. “As much as I hate to admit it, Lupu may be correct. If their center is weak, then it may be best to move your orta and the Ifrits there. If we break their lines there, Usan, then you and your men would have free rein in the streets of Gyulafehérvár.

“But let us be prudent. Let’s wait to see what happens on the flanks here first, then we’ll decide what to do with your men.”

Usan was about to argue against such an action when he was halted by the low, rumbling sound of an engine.

He looked skyward, and there, one of the enemy’s small planes, like the one he had seen fly over Meinbach a week before, sped across his vision, across the battle line, and straight toward the Chaldiran.


The Smooth Operator


Tuva flew as close as she was willing to get, then banked right. She heard a pop and saw a flash of fire and smoke from the gondola as someone in there took a shot at her. It missed by a mile, and Tuva forced herself not to laugh and make an obscene gesture in the gondola’s general direction. It never hurt to rankle the enemy, but this was serious business. Men were dying on the ground below them, and her duties flying above it all were equally serious.

Tuva banked right. She’d take a quick look at what’s going on in the center, and then swing back around and examine those columns of enemy cavalry.


Southern battle line


Colonel Friedrick Burkenfeld of First Cavalry was annoyed. Not because of General von Mercy’s decision to promote Gerhardt Renz to be field general over himself…well, all right, that was annoying, and in Friedrick’s mind, more than insulting. Right now, however, his biggest annoyance was the fact that Colonel Zelikovich seemed resigned to ignore his request to seize the stone wall.

What a fool!

But that was what happened, he knew, when you put an inexperienced, untested army into the field. True, the enemy probably had as many green troops as the Sunrise; the Wallachians had been an Ottoman vassal state for a long time, and their involvement with European wars had been minimal at best over the last few decades. But what did the Wallachians have that the Sunrise didn’t?

Turks. Lots of them.

“What are your orders, Colonel?” Burkenfeld’s aide-de-camp asked as they emerged from the tree line and into a small opening of rolling hills and farmland.

Burkenfeld reined his restless horse to a stop and surveyed the ground. Beautiful country, indeed, was this Transylvanian plateau. But rises and dips in the terrain made it difficult to know for sure where enemy cavalry were deploying and when it would strike. The only reliable sense in a time like this was one’s hearing, and even that was hampered by the relentless gunfire just a mile away.

“What companies are deploying to the left flank?” he asked.

“Shaffenburg’s, Vizthum’s, Salm’s, Raabe’s, and Lapierre’s, sir. Nearly five hundred horse, as ordered.”

Burkenfeld nodded. “You make sure Vizthum’s dragoons dismount and deploy. Tell him to find a good clump of trees or hillocks and hold those Ottoman bastards at bay, you hear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And send for Captain Gayling.” Burkenfeld dismounted, handing the reins over to his personal aide. “Tell him to bring his dragoons and deploy here, right where we stand. If Colonel Zelikovich refuses to defend his position, then we will.”


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