Friday, July 23, 1683
Xavier
Vienna
“It’s good to have you back.” Balthasar greeted Xavier when he led his detachment onto the earthworks that made up the covered way in front of the Löbl Bastion. Thick oak palisades and newly built blockhouses kept the defenders sheltered from any Turks who might be bold enough to approach the glacis, if they approached above ground. But they wouldn’t approach above ground, not now that their parallels were so close. Close enough to target the defenders, if the defenders didn’t hit them first. “Did you hear about the sally yesterday?”
“No.” Xavier had been hungry for information about the siege, but Katja’s news hadn’t included anything about a sally. “What happened?”
“A detachment of university students went out and captured some Ottoman cattle, drove them back into the city. Stole them from right under the Grand Vizier’s nose.”
Xavier doubted that. From the Ottoman camp, yes. From anywhere near the Grand Vizier, not likely. He’d followed Katja and Maria up a church steeple that morning and studied the Ottoman camp. It was enormous, and the Grand Vizier would be in the most strongly defended portion of the camp. A pasha was unlikely to suffer the noise and smell of cattle anywhere near his tent. But Balth’s version made a better story.
Balth continued. “Von Starhemberg gave it to the students and the wounded soldiers.”
“Then perhaps I am returning to duty a day too early. My sister took good care of me, but she and Agnes didn’t serve beef. Said it was getting too expensive.” Xavier tried to force a laugh. He was glad to be back. Katja’s care had helped him recover most of his strength, enough that he could climb a tower and convince her he was healthy. Had Katja not had a long-embedded aversion to heights, he might not have fooled her. But Katja had been dealing with her own discomfort, and Maria had perhaps heard too many rumors of the break with Wilhelm—or maybe too much truth—and seemed wary of Xavier. If either had noticed his strength slackening, they’d not said anything, but he’d recognized his weakness and been grateful to sit in the barber’s chair once they’d left the church.
“So you kissed your sister goodbye and now you’re back?”
“Something like that.”
Balth’s lips pulled to the side. “How much would you mind if I kissed your sister?”
“Quite a lot, actually.” Xavier glared, then tried to soften it.
Balth held up a hand. “All right, all right. Just asking. Does she have a sweetheart?”
Xavier had watched Katja with Toby. Almost like they were children again, but something more than friendship seemed to be forming. It was hard to tell for certain—Xavier had been partially delirious for most of his observations—but whether it was Katja and Toby or Katja and Balth, the timing was all wrong. “Seems like a lot of trouble to court a woman when the city is under siege. Why spend so much effort when the two people in question might not survive the month?”
“You’re evading. I thought we were good enough friends for plain talk. That’s why I brought up the matter with you now rather than going behind your back.”
“Does Katja want to go behind my back?”
“I haven’t asked her. She’s unfailingly polite, but I’m not sure how she feels. Perhaps you could ask her?”
Unfailingly polite. Xavier had used that term often but as a description for Wilhelm, not for Katja. Still, women had few choices. They could be polite, or they could be pariahs. “If the subject comes up, perhaps I will ask.”
Xavier had planned to stay in the barracks now that he was recovered. He could better supervise his men from there. But if Katja had suitors, maybe he should sleep at home. Agnes and Maria came and went too often to be proper chaperones, same with Martin and the footmen.
Katja could make her own decisions, but he didn’t think she and Balth would make a good match. Balth didn’t like concerts much and quickly became bored when the singing at the opera stopped for a musical interlude. Katja, on the other hand, had inherited their father’s passion for music. The women Balth had admired in the past always had impeccable manners and subservient demeanors. Would he want someone as opinionated and impulsive as Katja when all the other society ladies returned to the city? If they had a city to return to when this was all finished. Maybe that was part of the problem. There weren’t many choices at present, so Balth couldn’t afford to be picky.
Balth gestured to the enemy lines. “It’s strange. They were normal this morning—maybe even gave us more fire than usual. But this afternoon, it tapered off.” Balth’s teeth showed in a wide grin. “They’ve been at it for nine days now. Maybe they planned on a quick capitulation and they’ll have to ration their fire now because they’re running low on balls and powder.”
Xavier doubted that. Some cities fell quickly, but surely the Grand Vizier wasn’t short on supplies this soon. Even if he was, he could have more brought in. Unlike the defenders, he wasn’t surrounded by hostile forces.
Balth straightened the blue facings of his uniform. “Well, my men have served their watch and are in need of some much-earned rest. Good luck to you. Like I said, they’ve been quiet lately.”
Xavier nodded his goodbye, then turned to his musketeers. “Look lively, men.” He didn’t want them growing complacent. The weather was far too fine to keep the Turks from working some sort of mischief in their trenches, where they were invisible beneath roofs of fascines and timber.
A loud boom rolled across the counterscarp, and the ground under Xavier’s feet trembled with a violence that threw him off balance. He collided with a man named Leitner, and both of them crashed to the earth.
It took a few long moments for Xavier to realize what had happened. The Turks had blown up a mine. Farther along the counterscarp, a long line of palisades was missing, making that portion of the defenses the most vulnerable point around all of Vienna.
“Toward the breach, men!” Xavier shouted. He gave a hand to Leitner and yanked him to his feet. “Muskets at the ready.”
They rushed toward the flattened counterscarp. Imperial soldiers had been there just moments before. Where had they gone?
The shouts of the Turks drove any other questions from Xavier’s head. The feathers on their caps bounced, and the ends of their caftans flapped behind them as they charged across the glacis and ran toward the hole in the palisades.
“Form ranks!” Xavier shouted. The men’s muskets were already primed to fire; they just had to ensure their matchcord was in position. Xavier glanced at young Derfflinger, who stood next to him. He was ready. He hoped the rest were too because waiting any longer would give the enemy an edge.
“Shoulder your muskets!
“Make ready!
“Present!
“Give fire!”
The front rank stepped back after giving their volley, allowing the next rank to step closer while the first rank reloaded.
They repeated the process twice more. A Turkish arrow lodged itself into one of Xavier’s men, but his wound was light enough that he could drag himself to safety. Xavier took the man’s prepped musket and aimed at one of the onrushing Turks. He fired and watched the man fall; the distinctive janissary hat tumbled from his head, and his bow dropped to the ground.
Xavier issued the order for fire once again, and then the Turks who had survived the first four volleys were too close to risk the time it would take to reload.
“Fix bayonets!” Xavier raised his back-curved saber while his men plugged their bayonets into the ends of their musket barrels.
Xavier didn’t need to issue additional orders. Every man would have to think for himself when the enemy reached bayonet range. He slashed at a man about to skewer young Derfflinger and then blocked a blade swinging toward himself. The sharp edges issued harsh clangs just audible over all the other noise. The Turks still yelled their calls despite losing a third of their number on the charge up the damaged glacis. Those who had survived attacked with fiendish determination.
Xavier finished off his opponent with a swipe at the man’s neck. Xavier drew in a lungful of air as the man fell and another charged at him. He ducked to avoid a sharp yataghan and met the next cut with his saber. He shoved the man back, then sliced his blade across the man’s body. The enemy grabbed at his wound and fell away.
Relief accompanied each breath that didn’t involve an enemy charging him. He should have followed Katja’s advice and spent another day recovering. Each bit of battle tested his limited physical endurance.
More Imperial troops rushed into the breach to reinforce them. Balth’s men were among the newcomers—they must have felt the blast and come back to help. Others dragged gabions toward the edge of the gap, and shots rang out from the nearest bastion and ravelin. Xavier fought off three more men, and then the Turkish assault was brought to a halt. The enemy who could still run retreated back to their lines, though few made it without receiving a ball in their backs.
Xavier caught his breath enough to speak. “Well done, musketeers.” They’d followed orders just as they’d been trained to, and they’d successfully fought off the first Turkish assault. But this was just the beginning. The Turks would learn from the experience, and the next attack would be worse.
Xavier and his men got to work repairing and replacing the palisades. Balth directed some of his men as they positioned a cheval-de-frise where it could easily be rolled down the glacis toward the enemy, should they attack again. The boar spears that stuck from the cheval-de-frise at every angle would likely impale a few Turks on its way down. It would, at the very least, slow them enough that they’d be easy to pick off with musket fire.
“Thanks for coming back.” Xavier gripped Balth’s arm in a brief thanks.
Balth nodded. “We’ve a few wounded and killed. Not nearly as many as they have, but they can afford the casualties. We can’t. Fifteen of our men disappeared when the mine exploded.”
Xavier nodded. Had they been killed and buried all at once, or had they slowly suffocated while everyone who could have helped was busy fighting off the Turkish assault?
There were key points in a siege: when the enemy arrived, when it cut off the garrison, and now, when its mines were close enough to create a breach in the defenses. But the counterscarp could be patched up and repaired. For now, the fight would continue.