Ere many weeks were past, Algernon Grey took leave of Agnes Herbert, to accompany the younger Prince Christian into Moravia, and never set his foot in Prague again till, after winning high renown in every skirmish and combat that took place, he accompanied Christian of Anhalt from Rakonitz in his retreat to the Weissenberg.
CHAPTER XII.
It was a dark and stormy night, that of the 19th of November, 1620, the eve of the twenty-third Sunday after Trinity; and clouds were rolling heavily over the sky, carried on by a keen and piercing wind which howled and whistled round the old battlements of Prague, and shook the lozenges in the long casements. Not a star was to be seen; the moon afforded not even that pale and uncertain light which she sometimes spreads over the general face of heaven, though her orb itself be hid beneath the vapoury canopy; and the only thing which chequered the darkness of the scene, was a light here and there in the windows of the straggling and irregular city--or a lantern, moving up from the lower to the higher town, caught through a break in the narrow and tortuous streets.
Such was the aspect on the side of Prague; but, upon the Weissenberg, a different scene was displayed. There, crowning the summit, was the camp of the Bohemian army; and, between the tents and waggons, glowed many a watch-fire, to warm such of the soldiery as had no shelter provided for them, while lanterns, hung up before particular pavilions, at some distance from each other, marked the quarters of the leaders of that inharmonious and disjointed force. Thus the whole crest of the hill was in a blaze of light; and a long line of fires ran down from the summit to the wide and beautiful promenade of the Star, marking the ground occupied by the wild Transylvanian horsemen. On the opposite side, towards Pilsen, a dark, black void extended; Christian of Anhalt having strictly prohibited any of the parties to pitch their tents beyond the brow on that side. This order, at least, had been obeyed, though not so with any other he had given; and, indeed, the whole afternoon had passed in wrangling insubordination, which required the utmost exercise of his authority to repress it, and restore order ere nightfall. About six in the evening, indeed, an event had happened which in some degree seconded his exertions. The troops had previously been left nearly without food, and totally without wine; but the strong remonstrances of the General to the court of Prague, and the liberal use of his own purse amongst the suttlers of the town, had at length procured a supply of meat and bread, and a moderate quantity of wine. The distribution was immediately made, and, while the soldiery were engaged in eating and drinking, measures were taken by their officers for restoring discipline; so that, by nine of the clock, a greater degree of order was to be seen in the camp, and this night promised to pass over quietly.
It was about that hour when Algernon Grey gazed forth from his tent for a moment over the impressive scene always afforded by the night encampment of an army. As he looked out, his eye ran over the several groups--rested upon the watch-fires--sped on, again, towards the Hungarian quarters, and then turned to the tents behind, and marked the different lines with a watchful and grave expression. From time to time he turned his head, and spoke a few words to some one within the tent, in broken and disjointed sentences--somewhat after the following form:--
"There must be twenty thousand, I think; that is to say without counting the Hungarians. How many do they count?"
"Twelve thousand," said a deep voice from within.
"Not so many, I should imagine," continued Algernon Grey. "Let me see--reckon ten men to a fire--there cannot be more than eight thousand, at the most. With such an army, one could do much, if there were but some bond between them, and we had something like discipline; and yet, and yet, I very much doubt the result."
"Where's your cousin? where's Lovet?" asked the voice again.
"He is gone into the town," answered Algernon Grey, turning back into the tent, and seating himself at a small rude table, by the side of the young Prince of Anhalt. "To tell the truth," he continued, "I am not sorry to be free from his presence: Lovet's spirit is too light to accord with mine in such moments as these. I must and do feel these things deeply, Christian. I cannot forget the scene that we witnessed here just twelve months ago, nor avoid comparing them with that which Prague presents even now; menaced by a superior army, with no proper preparations for defence, with your father's vast military skill fruitless to remedy faults of others, and the daring courage of yourself, and many like you, all cast away in the service of a prince unequal to the task he has assumed, and, I must add, little worthy of the crown which has been bestowed upon him."