CHAPTER 70: THE BATTLE OF JENA
The night had indeed been eventful, and on the orders of the emperor himself, only two to three logs per company had been lit to warm them in a way that would deceive the enemy about their positions and the number of men present. A strategic choice, but it had taken a serious toll on comfort, and the sugar and wine added to their pots during the night had not spared them from the cold and frostbite on their fingers.
"Tonight, if all goes well, we'll sleep in Weimar," Harry assured confidently.
"Unless the soldiers pillage the city," Juliette reminded him, rolling her eyes.
"As long as they leave us a mattress that we can share between the three of us, I don't see any problem," Nicolas retorted.
"It's wrong," she replied indignantly. "People own these houses, and we allow ourselves to help ourselves to whatever is inside without asking for permission!"
"Hey, I remind you that we had no part in these looting activities!" he hissed in a harsh voice. "I don't like it either, but if rations run out, we'll have to resign ourselves to it!"
Juliette remained silent, but the look she wore was enough to indicate to both of them that she was not pleased with that prospect.
Soon they crossed the Saale, which was low enough at this point for the horses to sink up to the boots of their riders while the gunfire intensified in the distance. Occasionally, a cannonball would explode near their position but never hit them and break the perfect order of their formation.
Harry sighed, almost disillusioned by the calm that prevailed around them to the point that he almost envied the infantry for being several hours into almost continuous combat. The cavalry was there today only in a supporting role, as reinforcements if things went wrong, and even magic was of no use given the circumstances. But on the other hand, he knew he was fortunate to be there and not further away, legs exhausted with fatigue as he advanced painfully in the valley while fighting with the bayonet to pierce the enemy lines. Others had not been so lucky and now lay motionless, their bodies riddled with holes, never to have the slightest opportunity to return to their homes where families waited with anxiety.
"At a trot!" someone ordered ahead of the formation.
A simple spur in his horse's flanks made him move faster, just as the tension finally rose a notch in the ranks. His grip on the reins tightened, his gaze hardened as he watched the smoke from musket discharges with the same resignation as a man preparing to enter the arena. At the same moment, a rider rushed towards the staff leading them to their objective, looking particularly urgent. However, Harry was far too distant to hear him clearly and had to rely on the judgment of his superiors, of whom Pajol was a part.
There was a moment of uncertainty where everyone wondered what would follow, trying to listen attentively to their neighbor for any information, then the line came to a sudden halt.
"What's happening?" Nicolas asked him, looking intrigued.
Another richly adorned and easily recognizable cavalryman passed in front of them, trotting back and forth along the line with his saber already drawn and ready for use. His horse itself was adorned for the occasion with a beautiful tiger skin under the saddle, while a frizz of white ostrich feathers adorned Marshal Murat's hat.
"Soldiers! Victory is close, and the emperor demands our presence to enhance his radiance! Will you answer his call!?"
"YES!" his men shouted in unison.
"Then follow me!" he ordered them, turning away from them to charge the enemy ranks. "For the emperor!"
"FOR THE EMPEROR!" they replied before initiating the same movement.
Like an automaton, Harry immediately positioned himself behind Vanhoeven as his comrades stuck close to him. The rest of the troop tried to maintain some semblance of order in its various lines, but soon it was just an imposing mass of several thousand cavalrymen surging towards the Saxons already engaged with Marshal Lannes' men. The cavalry quickly reached them but initially initiated an encirclement maneuver, cutting off the routes the enemy infantry could take in its escape before converging on them as one man.
As usual, breaking through the defenses was as easy as cutting through butter with a knife. Despite the desperate salvos fired by the last opposing lines, the Saxons were caught in a vice without the possibility of even retreating.
Everywhere, the order to surrender was pronounced, although some more daring than others chose to fight to their last breath. Harry had barely eliminated four opponents before realizing that the rest had already chosen to surrender to the French. Further south, Marshals Ney and Augereau were also pushing around the German troops, fleeing in total disorder. Some chose to plunge into the surrounding woods, while others now rushed towards the dirt roads leading to the cities and villages further north.
"That was fast," Nicolas commented casually as he approached him. "We almost did nothing!"
"We can still boast of having fought twice in less than a week," Harry informed him, smiling. "And who knows? The battle may not be over..."
A certain commotion near him caught his eye, and with dismay, he noticed that a rider persisted in wanting to continue the fight, taking advantage of the chaos to slash the unfortunate Germans near him who, unarmed, could do nothing but protect themselves with their hands from the repeated assaults of the vile individual.
"What a disgrace," Juliette exclaimed next to them. "Someone stop him!"
The young man, whom Harry quickly identified as Boulanger, tirelessly continued his work of death, ignoring the violation of the honor code prevailing on the battlefields. More and more people looked at him with indignation, but none dared to stop him... None, except Pajol. As Boulanger was about to strike his saber again at a Saxon, his blade met that of his superior, who looked at him with such fury that Harry had never seen before. His former student seemed not to recognize him at first and even seemed about to run through the man who had dared to stop him in his butchery, but a second saber blow made him release his own.
"You will answer for your unspeakable acts!" Pajol yelled at him as he grabbed him by the collar. "You tarnish the honor of the 4th regiment with your conduct!"
And while holding him like this, he ordered a few men to follow him towards the rear lines.
"Serves him right," Nicolas congratulated, watching them move away. "I hope he'll face a court-martial, and we'll be permanently rid of his presence. Since Mainz, he hasn't stopped causing trouble!"
"I couldn't agree more," Juliette said, smiling with satisfaction. "He who sows the wind reaps the whirlwind."
"Since when are you literary?" her friend asked, turning towards her, looking curious.
"And you, since when are you familiar with disciplinary procedures within the army?" she retorted mockingly.
However, they did not have the opportunity to dwell further on this topic, as a new movement order instructed them to take the road to Weimar, located a few kilometers to the west, in search of the fleeing enemy. Immediately, the bulk of the cavalry set in motion again, leaving the skirmishers and grenadiers to gather the thousands of prisoners. The road was already almost deserted, and in front of such a mass approaching them, Saxons and Prussians immediately halted their course to surrender. Soon, the captures numbered in the tens and then hundreds as wagons, hastily abandoned and carrying military equipment and supplies, were quickly seized by the soldiers who shared their findings.
But as they approached Weimar, Harry's satisfaction doubled at the loot that lay before them; the city was being evacuated, no resistance had been encountered in their path, but, more importantly, the French cavalry stumbled upon an incalculable number of abandoned German cannons with all the necessary equipment for their operation. Cannonballs in abundance, powder barrels, and draft horses seemed to beckon to them.
"Fantastic!" exclaimed Nicolas, rushing towards the first pieces of artillery. "Have you seen all these cannons?"
"It's wonderful!" said Harry in an equally joyful voice as the rest of the cavalry also took possession of the long line of cannons. "It looks like we've got our hands on the entire Prussian artillery!"
"And how!" replied his best friend, dismounting to rush towards a culverin, which he straddled without further ceremony. "These things were German an hour ago, now they belong to the emperor! When we take Berlin, we'll return them to the King of Prussia; he'll be delighted to find them! Come on, Hu!"
And while whipping the tube with his riding crop, he raised his shako to the sky with a radiant air, happy to be there. Carried away by the merriment of their comrade, Juliette also dismounted and positioned herself behind him, shouting just as joyfully. Harry noticed that many others shared the same sentiment, and himself, seeing the joy of his two best friends sitting on the cannon and shouting in delight, quickly joined them, standing between the two immense wheels of the weapon.
"King of Prussia, beware!" he threatened, pointing to an imaginary spot with the tip of his saber. "Soon, the best army in the world will take up residence in your capital, so add a few more place settings to your table!"
"Was that rhyme intentional, or are you improvising?" inquired Nicolas, looking up at him.
"I must have a poetic streak," Harry supposed with a falsely thoughtful air.
"Then, by the time we get to Berlin, you'll have plenty of time to compose an ode to our glory!" exclaimed Nicolas, tossing his shako into the air. "Long live the emperor!"
"The hour was late, but rarely had Weimar been as lively as in this moment. Public lighting had been absent since the previous evening when its supervisor fled upon learning that the French army was approaching the small town's residents. The new occupants had to rely on the moonlight and torches held by some to navigate through the multiple alleys.
Most of the dwellings were vacant for several hours, as the population followed the Queen of Prussia and the few regiments tasked with holding the city when it was learned that Prussian troops were retreating in large numbers from the battlefield. But now, its inhabitants consisted exclusively of French soldiers, some drunk, celebrating unrestrainedly the victory achieved at Jena and Auerstaedt. After all, it wasn't every day that a nation could boast of annihilating one of the world's most powerful armies in a matter of hours and in two different locations. The second battle, one against three, was even more resounding, but history books would remember the first primarily due to the presence of the Emperor of the French.
The road to Berlin was now wide open, and no obstacle seemed capable of stopping the French war machine, already victorious four times in less than a week: tens of thousands dead and prisoners, an artillery park of over a hundred cannons obtained without a fight, Prussian troops disbanding everywhere, and a Saxon ally now negotiating with Napoleon's staff to join him. The victory was splendid!
Harry could already imagine returning to France in a few weeks, adorned with new glory as the campaign seemed to be ending. But not before entering the capital of the Kingdom of Prussia through the Brandenburg Gate and parading through the city's streets and boulevards. In any case, that's what he dreamed of, and his mind transported him to the confluences of the Spree, where Berliners must be anxiously anticipating the arrival of the troops of the 'Corsican ogre.'
Lost in his reveries, he clumsily attempted to erect a makeshift bed constructed with pilfered straw bales from a nearby stable. Beside him, Juliette illuminated the scene with a small candle found in the small house they had taken over. Like the rest of the population, they had taken only the essentials and left during the day, abandoning all their memories, belongings, and anything that could have been useful for their unforeseen journey. The room, which served as a dining room, kitchen, and bedroom, had since been ransacked by soldiers eager for trophies, money, or simply pleasure. Amidst broken furniture, utensils scattered on the floor, and a fireplace where they had lit a small fire, Harry, Nicolas, and Juliette were trying to arrange a small bed for the night before resuming the journey tomorrow.
"I found these," Nicolas declared, showing them the few tubers he held.
"Do you know how to cook them?" inquired Juliette as she and Harry now fashioned crude cushions from canvas bags.
"No," he admitted sheepishly. "Besides, they need to be peeled first, and we need to find water and some accompaniments."
"I sometimes feel like you forget you're a wizard," chuckled Harry as he pulled his magical wand from his sleeve. "For the first two problems, it's very easy."
With a gesture, the potatoes floated out of Nicolas's hands, hovering a few inches from Harry's head. With another, the tubers began to rotate as they shed their brownish skin, gradually being cut into small pieces.
"Wingardium Leviosa," he said, pointing this time at an overturned pot a few meters away, which also began to levitate towards him. "Aguamenti."
A stream of water emerged from his wand and gradually filled the container as he placed the potatoes inside.
"I'm not a very good cook, so if you have any suggestions for tonight's meal, feel free to choose," he explained as he positioned the pot over the fire.
"I have some carrots and an onion," mumbled Nicolas as he rummaged through his bag.
"I have some leftover bread," added Juliette. "Ah, and bacon."
"Same here," he said, placing the bacon wrapped in a sheet of paper next to him. "I also have some fruits for dessert, but I feel like they're starting to get too ripe."
"You just have to cut off the spoiled part," advised his friend. "But we need to be careful; we don't know when the next rations will arrive, so we'll have to exercise restraint."
"Still, as much as we have the best army in the world, the rationing is lamentable!" grumbled Nicolas as he now peeled his carrots. "It's as if they think we fight better on an empty stomach!"
"That might be the case," argued Harry absentmindedly. "But if the need arises, I could just Apparate to Lamballe and ask Giuseppe to replenish our food. I sometimes miss his cooking."
"In truth, everything was missing in Lamballe, including, of course, the presence of his own family. It was impossible for him to send them news, as the mail was not functioning at the moment, and the relay stations along the roads were devoid of horses, with the postal workers taking off like the rest of the population. As for using Archimedes, the presence of a falcon would be too strange to go unnoticed.
It was impossible for him to reassure them, to tell them about his daily exploits where the routine of the days passed calmly. Still, it was also impossible for him to get the constant thoughts he had about the current campaign out of his head – about the thousands of dead he had encountered, the horrors of this war, and the bestial behavior of those who claimed to be men but acted at times like animals. He couldn't escape his little sister's latest nonsense, Marie-Louise's political calculations, or Lily's recommendations for his well-being.
"This could be considered dereliction of duty," argued Juliette, furrowing her brow. "If they look for you while you're in France, you'll be in serious trouble."
"Unless it's not known," he replied calmly, glancing at her. "I have full confidence in you to know that you would never go to our superiors to report my little excursion on my lands. Anyway, I would never go against Pajol's recommendations regarding the improper and dangerous use of magic for personal purposes, and this situation is exactly the kind of forbidden activity he expressly advised against."
"Very true," she agreed, redirecting her attention to the various foods at their disposal.
"Yeah, but still, I wouldn't have said no to some extra vegetables," grumbled Nicolas. "Or to a good pound of fatty meat... Just thinking about it makes my mouth water... Or... a good, plump poultry..."
"Will you shut up, yes?" Juliette snapped, throwing the first object within reach at him. "You'll end up making me hungry too!"
"Do you hear that?" Harry suddenly asked, turning his gaze toward one of the broken windows at the entrance.
Outside, several bursts of laughter could indeed be heard on the street, but at this hour, it was not uncommon to hear the ramblings of particularly drunk revelers.
"Probably comrades who partied a bit too much," commented Juliette after a few seconds of silence. "Maybe we should close the door as a precaution."
"On the contrary, they'll find it suspicious if a door is closed when all the houses have been searched," replied Nicolas. "Someone should take a turn on guard duty, and we'll take turns every two or three hours."
"Good idea," Harry agreed as he took out two bottles of cheap wine given by the army's vivandières and his cup.
Soon, a pleasant aroma of broth filled the room as the three comrades gathered around the pot and its bubbling liquid. With their respective portions filled, each spent a short time enjoying their meager meal.
"Bon appétit," Nicolas said before dipping his piece of bread into the soup. "And cheers!"
"Cheers!" his friends echoed in unison, clinking their glasses and taking a sip.
"This moonshine is really disgusting," he grumbled, grimacing after taking a sip. "They say it's made from guts, but it's more likely to make us sick..."
"It's the standard drink for the troops. If you want to complain about it, write to the administration that manages the armies' supplies," Harry commented with amusement, although he fully agreed with Nicolas.
"I won't hesitate to do that," he affirmed, nodding his head. "You'll have to write it for me, though. You have better handwriting and, more importantly, you phrase things much better than I do."
"You just have to give me the general idea, and I'll handle it," he replied before biting into a potato.
The crackling of the flames was the only source of noise for the next few minutes, except for the drunks outside the house, and each preferred to enjoy their meal in silence. While doing so, Harry absentmindedly observed the arrangement of the room, focusing on the few elements of coquetry of the likely woman who occupied the place: some slightly wilted flowers, poorly quality paintings hung on the walls or thrown on the floor, one or two porcelain knick-knacks miraculously escaping the hands of looters...
Seeing this, he couldn't help but agree with Juliette about the encroachment on this person's private space, a blatant violation of property that, even in times of war and therefore perfectly logical, still made him uncomfortable, as if he had no business being here. If roles were reversed, and the Prussians occupied his Lamballe castle, he certainly wouldn't have reacted appropriately.
"Do you think many people lived here?" he asked them, looking at them.
"Probably a family," argued Juliette. "I saw clothes for both men and women, as well as those for at least one child, so I wouldn't be surprised."
"They probably won't be gone for very long," commented Harry, rubbing his chin. "They must be hiding nearby, waiting for the army to leave the city to head further north. Before we leave, maybe we could fix up their house to make it habitable again."
Nicolas looked at him strangely, as if wondering if his best friend had suddenly gone mad. However, Juliette was smiling, and a joyful gleam could easily be seen in her eyes.
"I'm sure they would appreciate that," she said, glancing back at her bowl. "Your kindness honors you, Gabriel."
"You'll have to play the house fairies if you want, I'm absolutely not interested," grumbled Nicolas as he rubbed his belly with satisfaction. "Good God, I ate well!"
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