Clash of Arms: A Romance

by John Bloundelle-Burton

But the chance had not come for him to communicate with Andrew, when, at nightfall, and with the whole French army sheltered from the Imperialists, not only by the darkness, but also by the incessant rain and mist, the passage of the Breusch was commenced, and when gradually the distance between the enemy and the river--a plain of about a mile and a half in extent, which had foolishly been left unoccupied by De Bournonville--was filled with Turenne's army. Thus, when the day broke, foggy and wet as ever, the two enemies were facing each other--the French with the river at their backs, and the Germans with a large wood serving as cover on their right and a smaller wood on their left, and with the village of Entzheim between them and the foe.

But if, by the time the filthy day had dawned, the Imperialists had not found out that they were face to face with France once more, and that the Elector of Brandenburg would be of no service to them here, they discovered it soon, for from their enemy's position there rose now the cheering of twenty thousand voices as Turenne rode along in front of his first line, and, with an air of gaiety which he always possessed on the day of battle, waved his hand and hat to them, and gave the order to advance, the Little Wood being the spot principally subjected to attack. And among those who first reached that wood was Debrasques, the "King's" dragoons and those of Listenai being sent forward to clear it of the enemy. Shortly the battle became general.

Meanwhile Turenne, who was everywhere, saw that his cavalry was driven back by numbers of the other side who were in possession of the wood, and instantly gave the order for the infantry of the left to advance, amongst those who went forward being the regiments of Churchill and Monmouth.

The chance Debrasques desired so much of communication with Andrew was coming near!

Avoiding the interior or middle part of the "Little Wood"--where were three battalions of the enemy with two pieces of cannon--there went forward the regiments of Burgundy and Orleans, the "King's" dragoons and Monmouth's foot, after which followed Debrasques' regiment, it being separated only from Churchill's by the men of Languedoc. And, sweeping round to the left to prevent the enemy's troops from coming to the assistance of those who were already in possession of the wood, the whole of Turenne's right line advanced, while the left was engaged with Caprara's right.

And now the fight in the "Little Wood," as it was ever afterwards called, became a scene of terrible slaughter, a scene made doubly so by the downpour of rain which fell incessantly all that day, by the fog and mist which surrounded and hid Austrians from French, and by the vomiting of the cannons. Twice the French obtained possession of the wood, and twice were driven out--for half an hour the battle ceased, so thick did the fog become; then, at last, when once more the whole of the left went at the wood again, the possession of it became assured for the attackers.

Amidst the scene of carnage, none fought more bravely on that day than two Englishmen, Churchill and Andrew Vause. From the first, in that high-pitched, aristocratic voice, which, later on in his life, was to give the orders that should for ever crush the might of the French king under whom he now fought as an auxiliary, was issued command after command. From the other, tall, stalwart, grim, his big sword grasped as easily as, not long before, his rapier had been, was dealt forth blow after blow against Austrian, Bavarian, Luneburger, and Holsteiner; while over their prostrate bodies he, in company with others, leapt to find fresh foes. And in a pause, as still he and his comrades swept their way into the fringe of the wood, he heard above him a quiet voice exclaim, "Well done, my handsome Englishmen. Well done," and looking up at the horseman above him--a broad-shouldered, short-necked man, whose morose countenance belied his words--Andrew recognized Turenne. But a moment later he was gone, riding all along the advancing line to utter encouragement to other regiments.

And now the charge was ordered for what was to be, happily, the last time, when rushing down through the open ranks of the infantry went the dragoons, while amongst them Andrew recognized the fair hair of Debrasques, as, without covering to his head, he flew by.

"Bravo, Debrasques! Bravo!" shouted Andrew, and the boy, turning his face, saw his friend. Then he waved his sword and vanished into the gloom around.

The darkness was growing more intense, there was something more than fog and mist enveloping them, they knew that the October evening was at hand by the time the fight was done, and when, from neither little nor great wood, nor from where the village of Entzheim lay, came aught but desultory firing.