Shortly before it had become dark, a reconnoitring expedition which had been sent out returned with the intelligence that General Steenbock, the commander-in-chief of the Swedish army, had approached until within three miles of the Danish camp, and that, according to all appearances, he was preparing to attack the Danes at dawn of day. Messengers were sent in various directions. A few of these were to summon the general officers to a council of war, others to take orders to the different portions of the infantry who lay in cantonments in the nearest villages.
King Frederick IV. had arrived at the camp two days previously from Oldeslobe. He had taken up his quarters at the little country town of Wakenstadt, whither the officers who had been commanded to assist at the council of war that evening repaired.
There was a striking contrast between the appearance of these gentlemen, who, on account of the presence of the king, wore their embroidered and dashing uniforms, and the low, dirty, peasants' parlour, where the meeting was to be held.
A peat fire was smoking and blazing in the open chimney; its lurid glare fell on the plastered clay walls, to which time and damp had imparted a greenish hue. Two small windows, whose panes of glass the storm raging without caused to shake in their leaden frames, had no curtains. The floor was of clay, the furniture consisted of a long bench and three straw chairs, which were arranged around a deal table that stood in the middle of the room, covered with maps and drawings, and the apartment was illuminated by two or three tallow candles. The moment, however, was too critical for any of those present to waste a thought upon the chattels around them.
The discussions in this council of war were long and stormy. Immediately after the king had communicated the intelligence brought by the scouts, there arose a difference of opinion between him and Reventlow, the commander-in-chief. The count thought that it would be unwise to accept battle at the place where the army then was, because the infantry either could not be assembled before the following morning, or, at any rate, they would be fatigued after their forced march, which it would be necessary to undertake very early to arrive in time.
To this was to be added that the Saxon auxiliaries, thirty-two squadrons of cavalry, happened that evening to be at eighteen miles' distance from the rest of the army.
The king did not see the force of the argument; he entirely differed from the count. Full of confidence in the continuance of the good luck which had placed in his power the most important of the German provinces of Sweden, he declared the position of the army to be excellent, covered as it was by hills, woods, and morasses. He hoped that the forthcoming battle would crown all his previous victories.
The shrewd courtier only adhered to his opinion until he saw that the king was determined not to give up his own. Thereupon he pretended to have been reasoned over to his majesty's views. He bowed smilingly, and exclaimed:
'I also agree that we should remain here. If we conquer, to your majesty will belong the whole glory of the victory. The whole glory, but above all the whole responsibility,' he added, in a whisper to his neighbour, as he took his place again on the wooden bench at the table.
Reventlow's yielding to the king's wishes was a sign to all his party to act in the same spirit. One alone still contended that it would be wrong to accept battle under their circumstances--one alone, and he was Major-General Gregers Daa. He stood in that circle somewhat paler and more suffering than usual, cold, stiff, and stern as ever. He would not swerve from his opinion, gave reason after reason, and did not seem to remark that his coadjutors had by degrees changed their ground and had become his adversaries.