The Baltic War(200)
He shook himself as the line of ships disappeared over the horizon.
"Get the net in, Emile!" he said sharply.
His brother-in-law gaped at him, and Franchot clouted him on the ear with one gnarly fist.
"Move, imbecile! That—" he waved an arm at the plumes of smoke still visible to the northeast "—is worth a month's worth of fish to the first ones to report it!"
Emile blinked at him for a moment longer, then nodded in sudden understanding and bent with Franchot to haul in the net.
The Lippe River,
a few miles northeast of Soest
"Remember, there's no need to get into an actual battle," said Turenne. "All you need to do is create enough of a stir to make the enemy think we're planning an attack on Hesse-Kassel."
Jean de Gassion tugged his beard. "I have to engage in some combat, Marshal—or all we'll be doing is alerting the Hessians that we're in the area. If I retreat too quickly, they might come far enough north pursuing me to pose difficulties for you when you return."
As Turenne considered the problem, he watched his forces—three thousand cavalrymen, of the five thousand they'd brought on the raid—starting to ford the Lippe. He'd take those northeast to the Teutoburgerwald, while Jean de Gassion would take the remaining two thousand men to the southeast, in a feint at Kassel.
The Lippe was a small river. This far upstream, it was an easy crossing. They'd probably only lose a handful of horses, if they lost any at all. That was Turenne's main worry, at the moment, not the question de Gassion was raising. Given the imperative necessity for moving as quickly as possible, he hadn't brought very many extra horses on the expedition. He'd only allowed for losing one-fifth of the mounts they'd started with. That was a good enough ratio, normally, with experienced and capable cavalrymen. But they still had to get through the low mountains of the Teutoberg Forest. Even using the gap at Bielefeld, that sort of terrain would wear on the horses.
But that die was cast already, and there was no point fretting over it. Gassion needed an immediate answer.
"I'm just not too concerned about that, Jean. Remember that I'm taking all the Cardinals and you'll be armed with nothing except muskets and pistols. Don't get involved in anything beyond a minor skirmish or two. It's more important that you get out of it with your force intact, so you can come up in time to hold the bridge over the Weser. You actually have more distance to travel than I do."
He gave his eager subordinate a smile. Like most of Turenne's lieutenants, Gassion was also a young man—in his case, less than two years older than the marshal himself. They all tended to be a bit impetuous, and none more so than Gassion. Not surprisingly, of course, since he was a Gascon.
"Please, Jean! Restrain yourself, if you would. The one thing I do not want to face is racing back with the enemy on my heels and finding that I have to cross the Weser at a ford." He waved at the nearby Lippe. "This is barely a stream; the Weser's a real river."
"But—"
"Oh, stop worrying. The Hessians have most of their army to the south, facing the archbishop of Cologne, and the landgrave is with them himself. All they have left in the capital, according to our reports, is a garrison. They're not likely to march more than a regiment out of the city after you, and a regiment"—now he waved toward the Cardinal rifle in a saddle holster on his horse, standing a few feet away—"three thousand of us armed with these can drive off in a few minutes."
"If you have any ammunition left," said Gassion. Like most Gascons, he was stubborn as well as headstrong.
Turenne wasn't disturbed by that, however. The same traits also made Jean de Gassion a superb cavalry commander. So, Turenne just gave him a level gaze, saying nothing. After a few seconds, Gassion smiled and threw up his hands.
"Fine, fine! I shall be obedience personified, Marshal. And I'll be at the bridge, when you get there."
"All I ask. Godspeed, Jean, and good fortune."
Chapter 45
The Wardersee, near Segeberg
thirty miles northwest of Luebeck
The march from Hamburg had been exhausting, so General Torstensson ordered a rest once the regiments reached the Wardersee. The lake north of the town of Segeberg provided all the water they needed and they'd brought their other supplies from Hamburg. Behind them, TacRail units were laying a line from Hamburg that would make resupply quite reliable, once it was finished.
By then, of course, the war might be over. Such, at least, was Eric Krenz's caustic opinion.
"And why couldn't we have billeted in Segeberg?" he groused, wrapping his blanket around him more tightly and sliding himself closer to the campfire the battery had made. This early in May, it was still chilly in the morning.