20
"The madman has a death wish." was Katyusha's blunt statement at the sight of the Light Brigade advancing straight at her artillery.
The reaction of Lieutenant Tolstoj, in this circumstance promoted to post commander, was more or less the same, with the difference that he kept his observations to himself, worrying only about ordering himself to prepare themselves.
Cardigan ordered slow trot, unfazed even when from the batteries on the hill to his left began coming the first shots, that luckily were completely lacking in precision.
For their part, the artillerists of the main battery completely ignored, at least at first, the array of small-caliber guns placed one near to the other in a single, very long line, concentrating only on the longer-ranged ones placed at the back.
But those themselves, once loaded, inexplicably did not open fire.
The British commanded in his mind felt that something was amiss, but by then it was too late to have second thoughts. Just as one of the shots coming from the side hit true, taking away men and horses, he gave the order.
"Light Brigade, charge!"
The lancer in the van lowered their weapons, and from slow trot they went to furious gallop, announced by the fanfare of the bugler riding in the middle of the formation.
"Fire!" commanded at that Tolstoj.
This time, it was the small guns that fired; but it was the way they were being used that left Cardigan and his men completely dumbfounded.
Rather than all together, the shells came in very close sequence, with a single gunner who, running with the botefeux in hand, fired them all one after the other; the result was that the shells came in a veritable never-ending burst. Moreover, even though slightly, the elevation of each gun was slightly different, ensuring that each shell hit the ground where the enemy cavalry was riding.
Cardigan and his horsemen were hit with a rain of gunfire, and soon a large number of men ended up killed or thrown off their horses, and the gunfire's sequence was such that at each step one ran the risk of buying it.
But despite that, and notwithstanding the sight of his horsemen falling by the dozen, Cardigan refused to give up, ordering the bugler to keep up sounding the charge.
Unfortunately for him, that was just the beginning.
Like a wood emerging out of nowhere, in an second thickets of stakes literally sprung out of the ground, forming a barrier that almost completely covered the central section of the battlefield.
Many of the horsemen who had survived the gun's onslaught didn't even have the time to stop, ending up crashing against that wall come out of nowhere; some horses even stopped dead in their tracks, throwing their riders off their saddles and sending up to be speared by the sharp points, under the shocked and terrorized eyes of their companions.
But the worst was yet to come.
Because those stakes were not just a wall; they were also a canopy. Under them, and now on their backs, there were some narrow and long trenches, deep enough to allow a respectable number of men to crouch in there.
A score of rifles appeared from behind the edge while the horsemen were still trying to reorganize themselves, just as, on the hill at their backs, Lieutenant Tolstoj was raising his arm while glancing at the guns.
"Fire!"
What followed was, plainly said, a slaughter. For the riflemen, it was like a shooting gallery at point-blank range, with targets impossible to miss even to the greenest recruit ever; also, in the meantime the gunners had managed to reload one gun in three, that, together with the guns at their backs and those on the other hill, turned that small space before the barricades in a veritable slaughter-house.
Men and horses were blown apart by the hundreds, unable to react, and the few who had been lucky enough to survive were finished off by the following charge of the infantrymen, who, coming out of their trenches, ran to stab those who were still not realizing their defeat, at the same time taking a large number of prisoners.
The long history of the British light cavalry had come to an end.
With the success in the north valley, the Russian forces were dominating in two out of three portions of the battlefield.
Unfortunately, though, in the most important one the situation was by all means the opposite.
Completely unaware on how their fellow soldiers had by then command of most of the battlefield, the Russian infantrymen engaged against their British counterparts kept falling back, especially since the gunfire duel had been supplanted by hand-to-hand combat.
From high above Katyusha, although aware of the victory on the other two section, looked more and more worried; defeating the British and French light cavalry would have meant little if the price to pay was to be the almost complete decimation of her own infantry. Not to mention that that was nothing more than an intermediate battle, since the battle to end all others was still awaiting them twelve miles to the west, before the walls of Sevastopol.
To the Allies winning was not the most important thing in the end, just stopping them was enough, or even damaging them enough to make impossible for them to keep advancing; and they were managing that, despite everything.
"General, perhaps we ought to withdraw while we still can." Liprandi said.
"At this point it would be useless." Katyusha replied, her fisted hands shaking.
"We have destroyed their light cavalry and defeated the French." another one chanced. "Perhaps this would give us enough time to raise another army."
"Have you looked all around you, bunch of fools?" the little girl thundered, raging. "Farmers, carpenters, smiths! This is our army! And to put it together we emptied the country from here to Chelyabinsk! Were will we find another army if we retreat now?"
No one dared object to that, but despite her vehemence, Katyusha in her mind was the first one to know that, by then, the chances to get through that valley unscathed were dwindling to nothing; she had already lost at least a quarter of her strength, and the cost for a now unlikely victory was such that it was wishful thinking to hope to bring relief to the besieged city.
Then, the miracle.
An aide came running, out of breath, to bring an unexpected new, to say the least.
"General! A small unit is advancing from the north, straight towards the British encampment. Heavy cavalry."
"Who are they?" asked Liprandi. "Ottomans?"
"I couldn't say, Your Excellency. They do look European. Prussians, perhaps. But they show no ensigns nor flags."
In a matter of minutes, the sound of a big trumpet, like a call from Heaven, strongly echoed in the whole valley, announcing the appearance, from the north, just to the left of the British base, of a strong and rather threatening horse division, that popped out of the hills like demons from Hell, clad in gloomy and almost anachronistic black ceremonial armours and armed with lances, muskets and pistols.
"Who in the devil are those?" said as one Katyusha and Lord Raglan.
The British commander, though, was soon able to recognize those armors, and those peculiars crested helmets.
"Those are horsemen from Württemberg! What are they doing here?"
Katyusha instead had to ask for a spyglass to make them out, but as she recognized herself those dark green uniforms she was almost disbelieving.
"Sister!"
The Württemberg commander, a youngster with long black hair in a ponytail, awaited a few moments, then he raised his sabre against the sky.
"Forwards!" he yelled, and at his command a hundred and fifty horsemen threw themselves down the hill, aiming right at the British lines.
The artillery positions, caught completely by surprise, were overcome like many pins, and at that Nonna, recovering from her shock, likewise spurred her men on.
"Attack!"
The Cossacks went straight for the Heavy Brigade of Lucan, who, astonished but very much meaning to fight to the bitter end, ordered a counter-charge, leading to a mighty clash of cavalry in which the Cossacks quickly gained the upper hand.
In a short while, another small group of riders of Württemberg appeared from a ridge in the valley, and Katyusha was left speechless when, aiming her spyglass in their direction, saw that no one but her beloved sister Olga was leading them, having left behind the luxurious court dressed was now clad in an elegant blue officer's coat under a breastplate.
And she was not alone; because at her side, like a zealous bodyguard, was riding Virginia who, even before the unit had gone and smashed into the flank of the enemy infantry engaged in the brutal hand-to-hand clash, pounced upon the unfortunate Englishmen like an Angel of Death, immediately beginning to tear them apart.
"Your Highness!" Katyusha heard the call, and she turned to see Nina, Aina and the other maids, covered with dust and tired beyond belief, making their war towards her.
"Girls!"
"Please forgive us, Highness." said Nina. "We came as quickly as we could."
"You did exceedingly well."
In a matter of minutes, the situation turned upside down, and for the last time.
Because two hundred horsemen were not, by themselves, a force strong enough to decide a battle; but when it was horsemen of Württemberg one was talking about, that was another matter altogether.
Faced with those unexpected reinforcements, the Russian infantrymen regained belief and called for the last of their energy, eventually succeeding in breaking the resistance of the British who, in groups whose size began to increase more and more, began to fall back and run away.
At that point, rather than suffering the humiliation of seeing his whole army broken and fleeing, Lord Raglan made the only possible choice.
"Sound retreat!" he said in a barely audible whisper.
His staff at first refused to believe they had heard that, but in the end they had to face the inevitable.
From bugle to bugle, the order reached the battlefield as just a few units were stubbornly fighting on, and at the sight of the Alliance soldiers that were abandoning the field to run away, it was saluted with a mighty roar of joy.
The Russian army was left in command of the field.
They had won.
As the time of celebrations went past, it came the time for the butcher's bill.
On the whole, the Allies, Ottomans and French included, had left on the field almost half of their army, between killed, wounded and prisoners; the Light Brigade had been completely annihilated, the Heavy Brigade halved, while the infantry, counting all the divisions and regiments engaged, had fared only slightly better. The Ottomans, taking the hint, had thought better and had buggered off with barely a fight; but the biggest success had to be the one obtained versus the French, whose very General was now sitting among the POWs, closely guarded together with his men, under the shadow of a canopy a small distance away from the tent of the enemy General.
The Russians themselves, though, had ended up paying a higher price than Katyusha had hoped for, with almost a third of her forces dead on the field or unable to fight on, especially among the light infantry.
Just as Katyusha was getting from Nonna the report on the losses, Olga reached the space before the tent, accompanied by Virginia and by the trusted Captain Loehner.
"Sister." said Katyusha, with admirable restraint, that left Olga herself stunned for a moment. "Thank you for your help. You were most welcome."
At that Olga ran her hand just like many times before, but this time Katyusha's reaction was by all means opposite; she looked almost embarrassed at the thought of being treated like a child before her staff.
"Who are you, exactly?" she asked her with a smile. "What happened to little Katyusha, who used to hide in the folds of my skirt?"
"I might ask you the same. What's with that dress?"
"I couldn't just charge the British in my coach and dressed in an evening gown. Luckily, our father was sharp enough to give me the appropriate education since I was ten.
But, compared to you, this is nothing. What happened to you?"
"It's a long story. Maybe I'll tell you later. In any case, when I sent Nina and the others to seek help, I would have never expected that they'd run into you."
"Luckily for you, we had to go through Kiev because of a few incidents on the Polish border. And when the girls explained me everything, I couldn't believe them."
"About that... Are you sure you won't have any problems? I mean, Württemberg is not involved in the war, and I wouldn't want to..."
"Until proven otherwise, I'm still a Grand Duchess of Russia. These men are my bodyguards. How I employ them is my decision and mine alone."
"That makes sense." laughed Virginia.
In that moment, a huge noise was heard, and in a short while a couple of soldiers strode forwards, bringing with them a weird young man, sharply dressed and tied up like a hog.
"General." one of them said, throwing the man right at Katyusha's feet. "We happened upon this man while he was trying to get into our camp-"
"Wait, this is a misunderstanding!" piped up the poor guy, laboriously getting to his feet. "I can assure you I have no ill intentions."
Katyusha went up to him, looking straight into his eyes.
"Are you British?"
"My name is William Russel. I am a war correspondent."
"A what?" said Olga.
"A journalist. I was following Lord Raglan and the British army. But then I saw you, so imperious and so fearless. I just had to get to know you."
"Yes, he's undoubtedly an Englishman." stated Virginia. "Nobody else can speak in such a honeyed way, when it comes to butter up people."
"Please, let me come with you. I want everyone in Great Britain to know of you and of your genius. What you have done. What you are. Everybody must know who you are."
Katyusha gave him a long glare, like a cat with a trapped mouse, turning poor William's blood to ice; then, unsheathing her dagger, she cut the cord that tied him up.
"If I hear that you're double-dealing or something, the next thing to be cut will be your family jewels."
The thing left pretty much everyone surprised, especially because of the way the General had stared at her new British friend before freeing him; but not Olga, who brought her mouth close to Nonna's ear.
"I might be wrong, but somebody here is already stoking her own ego." she commented, eliciting a small laugh from the girl.
Even before Russel was dismissed, before Katyusha another prisoner was brought, this time by the very hands of Lieutenant Tolstoj; unlike the young British journalist, the newcomer was dressed in a British cavalry uniform, and the General only had to look for the chevrons to understand that she was dealing with Lord Cardigan himself.
"We found him among the corpses before the stockade, General. He has a few scratches, but nothing else."
Realizing he was before the enemy General, Cardigan called for the last of his strength and of his dignity, and snapped to attention.
"Lieutenant Colonel James Brudenell, Earl of Cardigan, commanding officer of the Light Brigade of Her Majesty." he solemnly stated to Liprandi.
"You are talking to the wrong person, Lord Cardigan." answered Liprandi in a strange tone, before gesturing towards Katyusha.
At that Cardigan, not without apparent shock, saluted once more, this time to the right person.
"I offer you my congratulations, General. With your innovative tactics, you have overcome the most victorious unit of the British army."
"It was not prepared for that." Katyusha coldly replied. "I thought I had to stop infantry units, not six hundreds madmen anxious to die."
"We have done our duty. Like each soldiers worth his name should strive to do."
"A soldier's duty is to do his best to win, not to go and kill himself. Why did you not try a flanking maneuver?"
At that question, Cardigan hesitated, earning himself an even more disquieting and threatening glare from his counterpart.
"You wanted to grab all the glory for yourself, didn't you? Didn't you stop and think that it could be dangerous? Even discounting the tactic we had prepared, who would throw himself against the muzzles of a deployed artillery unit with no support at all?"
"We do what we are ordered to do. That is the duty of a soldier." Cardigan replied, in the tone of someone who is quickly losing his patience.
"I had heard of the British commander, Lord Raglan. And I shall never believe that he might have ordered such a foolhardy action. I rather believe you have disobeyed his orders and done your own thing. And that qualifies you as a deserter, other than as a fool." Then Katyusha made a gesture towards Lieutenant Tolstoj. "Tie him up."
Cardigan, despite his protests, was thus tied up with his arms behind his back; then, again on Katyusha's instructions, he was forced onto his knees.
"What are you doing?" he screamed.
All of his bravado and arrogance however disappeared in the moment when he saw Katyusha unsheathe her pistol and walk to his back.
That made even Liprandi, Nonna and Olga gape in astonishment.
"Katyusha, what do you want to do?"
"Take out the trash."
"But, General, the customs of war..." Liprandi feebly protested, only to be silenced at once by a glare that was nothing short of terrible.
All around them a complete silence fell down, and a small crowd formed quickly, standing by immobile and shocked at the sight of Katyusha who, stoically, brought the pistol's barrel onto Cardigan's nape.
"S...Stop!" screeched the British colonel, shaking like a leaf and sweating up a storm. "You can't do that! I'm an officer of the British army! I have a right to..."
"A man that sends his men to die in that way out of pride is no officer, is merely a buffoon in a uniform."
"No! Please! Don't do it! Please, no!"
Katyusha's finger clamped onto the trigger, and just as the hammer fell harmlessly, Cardigan rolled in the dust, as his pants and the dirt around them took on a yellow hue. In his eyes there was pure terror, but it was only hearing the soldiers' laughter all around him that he fully comprehended what had happened.
At the General's gesture, Cardigan was once more brought to his feet, so that everyone could see what was running down his pants.
"You'll come with us. And maybe you'll learn how a battle is led." said Katyusha, and at her command Tolstoj and another soldier took him away towards the huts.
The whole show had been seen, other than by the soldiers and officers from Russia, by all the other prisoners as well, and Canrobert himself almost pissed himself when he saw Katyusha quickly making her way towards him.
"I presume you are the French commander, am I right?"
"Y...Yes, sir." he answered, with a salute. "General Canrobert. French Imperial Army. I take full responsibility for our defeat. The decision to surrender was my own. I just ask to guarantee the safety of my soldiers."
The two stared at each other for a long time, and Canrobert was left speechless for a moment when, with a pleased smile, Katyusha offered him her hand.
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, General."
"F...For me as well, sir." he replied shaking that hand, although with a few mental reserves.
"You did the best you could. It takes no small courage to admit defeat. If your men are still alive is because you acknowledged you had lost, and that is worth of respect.
Don't worry, they'll be treated with all due considerations. You'll understand that you and your men will have to be confined to the back lines until negotiations for your release can be begun. In the meantime, I'll give orders for you to be brought to Kiev with the next convoy."
"You have my thanks, General."
Having gone through this formality as well, Katyusha went back to the command tent to discuss the situation with the staff.
"Gentlemen. I have to take upon myself my responsibilities. This battle cost up more than I thought it would. I don't know if it's because of bad luck or because of my decisions, but what matters now is that our chances to relieve Sevastopol have been considerably reduced."
"We still have two thirds of our initial strength, and the support of Grand Duchess Olga." Liprandi offered.
"Two hundred horsemen are not enough to swing the balance of a war the other way, even if it's horsemen of Württemberg we're talking about. About our men, the few who are not wounded are now tired, not to mention that we've lost most of our Cossack cavalry.
Faced with that situation, Katyusha fisted her hands and grit her teeth, feeling the weight of a huge frustration.
"At this point, the only available solution would be to coordinate an attack with the units inside the city. If we link up with my brother's forces, perhaps the situation would change for the better."
The officers looked between themselves, well aware like her of how difficult such a proposition was.
"General, the city is completely surrounded. There are one mile and a half of trenches and field fortifications all along the outer perimeter, and the inner harbor is filled with mines. It's impossible even to communicate with Sevastopol."
"Actually..." Lieutenant Tolstoj, invited for the occasion, stepped forwards. "There might be a solution to that."