15
Luckily most of the horses hadn't bolted, so it was possible to recover them to be used for the voyage that awaited the girls.
The lone surviving British agent was tied up in such a way that he couldn't get free in less than a few hours, while the others were piled together near the carriage, to be recovered.
Nonna had wanted to take care of Major Cross herself, respectfully placing his hands over his chest, and putting a wild flower between them.
Despite everything, she chose to keep the sword; she was too afraid that somebody, passing nearby, or his own companions coming over to recover the bodies, could take it as a trophy; she would give them back personally, later on.
In the end, though, against everybody's expectations, it was decided that only Katyusha and Nonna would immediately go to Balaklava. For Virginia and the others, the Grand Duchess had other tasks in her mind.
"Take my ring." she said, giving Virginia the jewel with her own personal effigy, recovered from the Major's pockets. "Go to each Oblast from here to the Odra. Knock at every palace, barrack, izba's door. We need more men, and now. I don't care how many, I just want them to Balaklava as soon as possible. If things don't go well, we'll need more forces to relieve Sevastopol."
At that, Virginia looked at her, almost smirking.
"And you are that convinced that they'll hear the orders of a young princess?"
"That's why I'm sending you." she said with an identical expression, at the same time glancing at the generous decollete of the young spy, hardly hidden by bindings. "I'm pretty sure you're well versed in the arts of persuasion."
"Hey, what do you take me for?" asked Virginia, pretending to be offended. "I'm no courtesan. Let's just say that I was trained to use... various kinds of weapons."
"That's it. I don't care if you'll need to use your dagger, your pretty little face or that rack you have, just convince the right men to help us."
"At your command, Your Highness." were the last words of the spy, to which she added a studiedly dramatic bow.
"Go, now. We'll await your arrival at Balaklava."
In just a little time, taken a few supplies, the caravan departed with Virginia in the lead, leaving Nonna and Katyusha alone.
"We can still go back, if you wish to." said Nonna, well aware that it was pointless.
"There's only a road we can take." Katyusha answered, jumping onto her horse with unusual agility, and closing her fists around the bridle like a good soldier. "And it's the one that leads towards Crimea." That said, she took off at gallop, closely followed by her inseparable handmaid.
The expedition put together to the relief of Sevastopol was, keeping to the facts, the most slapdash and unorganized thing that one might expect.
Formed by hastily collected troops from the various eastern Oblast, mostly raw recruits at their first experience, the army also had the misfortune of having the mission to help another force deployed in Crimea since the war had begun, whose respective commanders got along like oil and water.
On one side, there was General Pavel Liprandi, an old officer who had risen through the ranks after a past of espionage, beloved by the men and disliked by the elite, especially thanks to his tendency of cutting to the chase, even if it meant liberally interpreting the orders.
On the other hand, the Prince Alexandr Menšikov, Coomander in Chief of the whole Imperial Army, who had no need for an excuse to start boasting at any time about his long career in the higher ranks of the Russian army and navy, often repeating as a mantra that he "had fired his first gunshot when Napoleon was still thinking about conquering Moscow".
The two had butted heads from the day when Mensikov, having left command of the army in Crimea to his senior lieutenant, had joined with a small detachment Liprandi's forces not far from Novorossyisk, and since then he had done nothing but negatively influence the expedition; not on its speed, rather on the choice of the primary objective. On one side, the Prince had often stated how they needed to reach Sevastopol as soon as possible, on the other, the General had stressed more than once how they needed to do something to cut the enemy's supply lines, so that the relief of the city could be made easier.
In the end, Liprandi had gotten the upper hand, and the army had changed objective from Sevastopol to Balaklava close by, whose road was the major thoroughfare for communication and resupply between the Franco-British forces and the Ottoman ones to the east.
When they reached the place, the Russians almost did not believe their eyes to find, close to the road, a handful of Turkish redoubts quickly attacked, occupied and sacked.
Nonna and Katyusha had pushed their mounts beyond their physical limits, but when they arrived at last the battle to conquer the road had just ended, and the Russian forces, regrouped close to one of the hills that dominated the valley on which the road passed, were cleaning up the redoubts from the residual Ottoman troops.
From the encampment came cries of jubilation, and in general the vibe was a serene one. It looked like nobody around there had realized the trap they had fallen into.
"We came too late." stated Katyusha glumly.
"Now what do we do, Your Highness?"
At that the discouragement in Katyusha's eyes was immediately replaced by determination, together with that fire that Nonna was almost getting accostumed to.
"I'll die before I let a handful of British outwit me. Let's go!"
A few minutes later, the sentinels placed at one of the encampment's entrances saw two figures wrapped in dusty cloaks coming towards them, one of them so small that it looked hardly bigger than a toddler. And it was the latter that addressed the two soldiers, with a tone and an authority that belied her innocuous appearance.
"I need to speak with General Liprandi."
"And who might you be?" said one of the two, visibly annoyed.
The newcomer uncovered her face, and the blood of the two guards turned very, very cold.
"Happy now? Now get me to the General before I have you whipped!"
Meanwhile, in the command's tent, the General and the Admiral, the brief moment of cohesion already passed, were once more busy squabbling over the appropriate strategy, with the staff as a silent spectator.
"We took a favorable position." said Liprandi. "I say we need to deploy here."
"Should I remind you that we're here to relieve the siege of Sevastopol?" Menšikov said provocatively.
"Sooner or later they'll need to send somebody to try and regain the road. But they'll need a few days to organize a force strong enough, and they'll be forced to draw from the troops assigned to the siege. If we fortify and prepare for it, we'll manage to keep this position and to deal a heavy blow against the British."
"This easy win has worsened your character." Menšikov sarcastically commented. "Just two days ago you would have charged like a raging bull towards the walls of Sevastopol."
"Our men have marched for a thousand kilometers. I think they deserve a few days' rest."
"There will be no rest!"
The two newcomers barreled into the tent so quickly that nobody could announce them, leaving everybody present speechless.
"Y... Your Highness?" the General stammered.
"Did you hear me?" repeated Katyusha, hands on her hips and a nasty look in her eyes. "In the situation you're in, rest is a luxury that you cannot afford."
"What do you mean? And, even more, what are you doing here?"
"It's a long story. However, you surprise me, General Liprandi. Given the rumors that surround you, I had thought you a wiser and smarter man than that. Instead, you didn't notice that you marched straight into a British trap."
"A trap?!" A staff officer let out.
"Getting you right here was in the enemy's plans. I'm almost certain that they placed some bait to convince you to occupy this area, a bait that you took without blinking."
Those present looked around with wide eyes, while a rivulet of sweat came down the General's temple.
"Your silence tell me that I'm right. We're barely twenty miles away from Sevastopol. Did you not find suspicious that the enemy allowed you to come so close without attempting to stop you? The British spies in Moscow were aware of you and your arrival for some time, now, and they had all the time to prepare for it."
"Forgive me for asking, Grand Duchess." said Menšikov. "But would it be possible to know how are you aware of such things?"
"How I know is not important. What matters is that this expedition will end up as a massacre if we don't withdraw at once."
"Withdraw?!" let out Liprandi.
"Grand Duchess, with all due respect." the Admiral replied instead. "I am afraid that the military matters may be a thing way beyond of what Your Highness might completely understand. You ought to leave those decisions to those who have more experience."
"General Menšikov." answered Katyusha, annoyed by such lack of respect but far from intimidated. "I heard about you. My father said that you are an idiot."
The statement caused a half dozen of chuckles from a few of those present, and the same Liprandi smirked inside. On the other hand Menšikov felt the blow fully, settling his collar to try and keep his composure.
"Anyway, with your permission we are in the middle of a council of war. We'll soon have you brought back to Kiev. But until then, it will be better for your safety to be kept in a tent." Then he gestured towards the guards. "Please bring the Grand Duchess to my tent."
The two soldiers made to come closer, but the fired up eyes that Katyusha turned towards them paralyzed them on the spot, arousing in them a mixture of terror and respect.
"Don't you dare touch me!"
At that the two thought prudent to take a step back, almost placing themselves to protect her at Nonna's side, leaving everybody speechless again."
"I always thought that the problem in our army were its officers, unprepared and owing everything to connections." Katyusha resumed. "But now I see that our issues go far deeper than that. The greatest problem is that you're in command. Eighty years old farts of commanders still stock to a decades old concept of war. The world has changed and you still think you're fighting Napoleon.
I bet that most of you still believe in the myth of the cavalry charge, and sent entire divisions to their deaths launching them against deployed armies, thinking that numbers might win over modern technologies.
With such a mentality, each war is lost before it even began.
At this point, I think a radical procedure is needed."
With that, Katyusha, firm on her legs lightly spread, brought her hands behind her back, glaring at those present as if in a challenge.
"From this moment, because of the title I am invested with, I take command of this army. All decisions will go through me, and you will obey me with no discussions. Or else, and I don't care who you are, I'll have you put under arrest at once."
It was as if in the tent a cold win had come down, and for long seconds nobody was able to open his mouth; Katyusha was barely able to reach the belt of a few of them, but in that moment that impudent little girl was towering like a giant over all of them with the mere force of her gaze.
"This thing has gone long enough already." Menšikov then exploded, making a point of showing off the blue admiral's sash. "I don't care if you are the Grand Duchess. His Majesty gave me command of this expedition, and nobody, you first, has the authority to relieve me! And I have no intention of standing here and listen to your insults..."
He couldn't go on. Because Katyusha, drawing the revolver from the belt of the soldier at her side, opened a bloody hole in his right leg, right under his knee.
"Anybody else?" she said, blunt and impassible, while everybody looked at him, shocked. "Does anybody else wish to discuss my orders?"
"Y...Your father will know about this..." the Admiral stuttered, rolling on the floor and trying to contain the blood loss, somewhat limited though.
"By all means. I'll write him myself to tell him of our victory. And to advise him to relieve you from any and all commands." Then she gestured at her new subordinates. "Take this bag of horse manure away from me."
The two men forcibly lifted Menšikov and dragged him away in a complete silence. Then, when his lamentations ceased, Katyusha went to the table, even though she had to climb atop a chair to have a clear view of the papers and maps strewn over it.
"And now give me a complete report."
Nobody could talk for some very long moment; it was the most unexpected person who broke the silence in the end.
"Right now." said General Liprandi. "We are deployed here, on this ridge. From here we can easily control the road towards Sevastopol. We cleaned out the Ottoman redoubts here, here, and here, occupying them and taking over their artillery pieces. The few decent ones they had."
"In other words? What weapons are we talking about?"
"Old-fashioned muskets." answered one among the staff. "Around twenty British sixteen-pounders and at least sixty eight-pounder Ottoman small guns, all with relative ammunition. Little more than costly peashooter, in the end."
"I guess they didn't want to sacrifice any of their best guns for this live bait." Then Katyusha looked at all of them sternly. "Didn't it look to you like too small a force, and so badly equipped, to defend such an important position?"
"We... we had thought that they weren't expecting us." said Liprandi. "We lost barely a few dozens' men to take them."
"Even if it's a trap, in the end it's still a really small force. They had everything to gain if they had tried to keep you busy till the main force arrived. Did you come for this valley from the beginning?"
"Actually... actually no. At first we were thinking of going straight to Sevastopol. We diverted towards Balaklava only after we reached Crimea."
"Now it's clear. Your dithering must have confused them. For once, the legendary indecision of the Imperial army was useful. How long since you occupied this position?"
"More or less six hours." said a Colonel.
"In that case, it's very likely that the news have already reached the enemy commanders. Even if they need time to redeploy, it's safe to say that they'll be here tomorrow morning."
"We could try and march to them before they have the time for that."
"We wouldn't make it. Our forces are scattered all over the valley too. We'd run the risk of reducing the time we have. Might as well stay here and prepare adequately."
"Do you believe they'll make a strong attack?"
"No, I don't think so. On the other hand, it's likely that we'll have the numerical advantage." Then Katyusha made a nasty smile. "Do you know what is an Englishman's worst flaw?"
"M...My Lady?"
"He believes he's better than anybody else. Pride is their best friend. They won't waste too many men for a bunch of farmers loaned off to war."
The definition, cruel as it was, was nevertheless exceptionally accurate in representing the average experience of the vast majority of the men that they had.
"They believe us a band of headless brigands, don't they? Very well, let them. We'll give them a welcome that they don't expect."
The Grand Duchess turned to the map once more.
"The valley is divided in two by those hills. It would be risky to leave either of them undefended. We'll place troops along the ridge here, here and here. If they'll try to climb up to flank us, we'll be able to push them back. The heavy cavalry will stand here, in the valley to the south, while the light cavalry will deploy on the top of the middle ridge, ready to move in any direction if necessary."
We'll place the artillery here, instead."
That last statement caused an universal perplexity.
"Here?!" blubbered Liprandi. "But, Grand Duchess..."
"Cut that 'Grand Duchess' out, if you please. Right now I'm just your General!"
"F...Forgive me... General. This is an open field. Even with the protection of the troops up the ridges, they'll be able to make a frontal charge towards the artillery and cut it to pieces."
"It won't be an orthodox artillery position." At that, Katyusha's eyes once more shone with that evil expression. "And anyway, they have baited us. We'll return the favor. You'll see."
The last enquiry was about a pair of crosses placed above the middle hill, and Katyusha asked about them.
"Mortar emplacements." answered Liprandi. "We are already working on some redoubts. We were considering leaving them to protect the road before continuing towards Sevastopol."
"Mortars... mortars... Of course!"
Grabbing a piece of paper, Katyusha quickly jotted down something, and then gave it to one of the officers.
"Get me those materials as soon as possible."
Said officer and a few of his colleagues read the note, and at once they broke into a cold sweat.
"But, General... were do we find all this..."
"We are Russians, you should know!"
"But if we do such a thing, the soldiers might..."
"Duties comes first! Move it!"
The plans that Katyusha presented to the rest of the staff, after the officers chosen for that thankless task had left, were met with the same dismay, if nothing else because not even the maddest, most lunatic general would have thought about such tactics.
However, Menšikov s blood was still fresh, and nobody dared to raise objections, also because this would have meant dealing with the young Cossack girl that, like a shadow, kept vigil over Her Highness and everything around her.
"Just you wait and see." Katyusha ended. "This will be a battle that the British will never forget!"
Just like last time, I take advantage of this to put a few notes relative to some historical domain characters that have appeared in the chapter.
Pavel Liprandi (1796-1864) – Russian General of Italian descent, unlike most of the highest ranking Russian military officers he rose from the ranks. Of humble origins, he enlisted while very young in the Tsarists army during the French invasion of Russia, at the end of which he had already reached the rank of Corporal. Gaining fame as a secret agent during the Russo-Turkish War of 1829, he had a pivotal role in the repression of the Polish revolution one year later. Strongly convinced of the need to modernize and reform the Imperial army, in 1854, having reached the rank of General, he took command of the expeditionary corps tasked with relieving the siege of Sevastopol from the Anglo-French-Ottoman alliance.
Aleksandr Sergeevič Menšikov (1787 – 1869) – Coming from the highest Russian aristocracy, he joined the Russian army at the age of twenty-two, after holding for four years the role of attaché for the Minister of Foreign Affairs. Promoted General after a mere eight years' service, he resigned from the army in 1824, after taking part in the wars against Napoleonic France and the Ottoman Empire, dedicating himself to the political and ambassadorial career. Recalled in service after just two years by the new Tsar, he was appointed Admiral and, at the beginning of the Crimean War, named commander of the whole Imperial army. Heavily responsible for the disastrous Russian conduct of the war, he suffered two devastating defeats from the coalition in the battles of Ilma and Inkerman, before the Tsar's choice to relieve him in favour of Prince Gorčakov, at which point however the conflict was all but lost. Disgraced in the eyes of the Imperial court, he retired in 1856.