The Baltic War(202)

"Good. Ask him what he wants me to do. Keep moving—if so, where?—or remain here until further notice."



"On my way." Frank headed toward the stairs that led up to the second-story room where the army's radio operators had set up their equipment.



Torstensson turned back to the table. "My guess is that the emperor will want us to remain here, until something develops. But, whether we do or not, we need to send a force north to secure the southern shore of the Plöner See." His finger indicated a large lake less than twenty miles north of the Wardersee. "It's most likely the French will come though this corridor once they begin their retreat from Luebeck. The Danes will pass to the east of the Plöner See, looking to reach their defenses at the Danewerk, but not the French. They'll pass south of the lake, trying to reach the headwaters of the Stör at Neumünster, and follow that down to the Elbe north of Hamburg. But they won't ever get there, because we'll have them trapped here."



Frowning, Colonel Bryan Thorpe leaned over the table and placed his finger on a different spot on the map, farther south.



"They might choose to take the more direct route, General. Just follow the Trave to Oldesloe, and then . . ."



His voice trailed off, as he studied the map.



"And then . . . what, Bryan?" Torstensson shook his head. "They'd find themselves in a worse trap, and one that ought to be obvious to their commanders even before they decamp. Even to that jackass Charles de Valois. Yes, the Trave would make an easy route at the beginning, but once they pass through Oldesloe"—he began moving his finger around on the map, after Thorpe removed his own—"their choices become dismal. They could reach the headwaters of the Alster easily, of course, but what good does that do them? The Alster would take them to Hamburg, where they'd be caught between our garrison in the city and us following them. Their only other options would be just as bad. They could march directly west, trying to avoid us, but that takes them through heavily wooded terrain with few roads, few villages, and only small streams. For an army the size of theirs, a disaster in the making, even this time of year. Or they march to the northwest, trying to reach the Stör from that direction. But the only route they could take would be to continue following the Trave, which leads them . . ."



He gave the English colonel a smile. Thorpe nodded. "Yes, I see. Which leads them right to us, here at Segeberg."



Torstensson planted both hands on the table, continuing to study the map. "Still . . . Given de Valois, such stupidity can't be ruled out. But if it does happen, we can march down the Trave from here faster than the French can come up the river. Meet them somewhere around"—he finger tapped a spot on the map—"Oldesloe, at a guess."



He spent the next few minutes discussing the army's logistical situation. By the time that was done, Frank Jackson had returned.



"The emperor wants you to stay put," he said. "The Ostenders are still in their fieldworks outside of Luebeck. Either they haven't gotten the news that Simpson has passed through the Great Belt, or they don't believe it, or they're just being sluggish and stupid, take your pick. But the emperor figures it doesn't matter. Sooner or later, they'll have to begin their retreat, and he wants you to wait for them here."



"The French, at any rate," said Torstensson. "What about the Danes? They'll take their army back on the eastern side of the Plöner See, I'm sure of that."



Frank shrugged. "Gustav Adolf didn't say anything on that subject. Just—wait here, and trap the enemy when they come. The exact identity of the enemy unspecified. You want me to get in touch with him again?"



Torstensson shook his head. "No, that's not necessary. The orders are quite clear."



He wasn't surprised, in any event. After Mike Stearns had demonstrated in December how easy it was to fly a man into Luebeck, Torstensson himself had been flown in twice—the second occasion, just three weeks earlier—to consult with the emperor. He knew that once the siege was broken, Gustav Adolf wanted to keep Danish casualties as low as possible. Their land forces, at least. He would be quite happy to see most of the Danish navy sunk or ruined, since that would give him the greatest leverage in his negotiations with Christian IV for a new union       of Kalmar. But there was no point in killing or wounding Danish soldiers who, soon enough, would be serving under Gustav's own colors. Let them escape Luebeck and take refuge in the Danewerk. They could be plucked there like ripe fruit, once the Danish king yielded and accepted the inevitable.